Tin Star (3 page)

I opened my eyes. Through the tank I could see three aliens. Two were in beds. One was holding an instrument. I recognized her—although I couldn’t really be sure of the gender—as the doctor who had declared me alive.

She had four arms, a pointy chin, and a pointy head. The doctor was extremely thin, like a walking stick. She had one of her hands on the forehead of the patient in the bed, another entering something onto a keypad, while another was tapping her hip. I recognized her from my studies as a Per, another one of the Major Species. As a Human, I was considered a Minor Species, or maybe even less than Minor. The difference between Major and Minor had to do with how long you’d been a spacefaring race and how many colonies a civilization had out in the stars. You had to have more than a dozen to be considered Major.

The doctor noticed that I was awake, and she took her free hand and through a flap in the tank wall injected me with a hypo. I slid back to sleep, peacefully dreaming of stars and the colony that I would help build.

*   *   *

I felt warm. Where was I again?

Perhaps the hand that pressed on my forehead was my mother’s hand. Perhaps I had just been sick. Gotten a flu or eaten something disagreeable. Perhaps I was already there on Beta Granade, in a fevered sweat. Perhaps everything else that had happened that I was suddenly remembering had only been a nightmare.

Perhaps.

I opened my eyes again and saw the door slide open. An alien in a uniform came in. It was the Loor, the most Human-looking of all the alien species. They were taller and thinner with longer extremities than Humans. They had broad shoulders, short necks, and thick antennae on the tops of their heads. Between the antennae and above the small hairline was a small widow’s peak of pale skin. The color varied from Loor to Loor. I recognized him when he spoke as the alien who was giving orders when they found me and declared me alive.

Seeing him reminded me that I was still on the Yertina Feray. I had only been dreaming that everything was fine. I had only been wishing. I closed my eyes to make my reality untrue for a moment longer.

“How is she? Is she able to talk?” he asked.

“The patient is making adequate progress but is not yet all better,” the doctor said.

“When can she leave here?”

I could feel the weight of his glare through the envirotank. I listened.

“Perhaps soon,” the doctor said.

“You’ve been saying that for weeks now and yet, here she still is.”

“Humans, very tricky. I am not familiar with their recovery times. I am doing the best I can. As you know, we’re a sparsely populated station and I do not have an adequate staff.”

“Release her tomorrow and send her to me,” he said.

He left the room. The last of the warmth I felt from the dream slipped away. I opened my eyes and saw the doctor as she came over to me with an injection.

“No,” I said. “No.”

The doctor smiled and put one of her hands through the flap and placed it on my head, stroking me, as though I were a dog or a cat, and then I felt the prick of a needle.

“You have a little fight in you,” the doctor said. “No matter what species, that is always a good sign.”

“Something is wrong,” I said thickly, hoping my accent was acceptable as I slid into unconsciousness.

“Yes, but I do not know the details. And now it seems as though there is nothing more that I can do for you, Human.”

“Tula,” I said. “My name is Tula.”

The doctor smiled and then moved away. Whatever care she had given, she was done now. I was here on my own.

3

Constable Tournour’s office was bright, white, and spare. He sat at his desk, empty of anything except for a single, small, flowering plant, which I knew from my limited exposure to space travel was a sign of wealth. Plants on a space station were rare, except in arboretums. Perhaps it was a payoff. It didn’t matter. It meant that though he was a low-ranking constable, he had power.

Behind him, through the window, I could see the planet that the Yertina Feray station was orbiting had come into view. I’d forgotten the planet’s name but knew that it was smaller than Earth. It was a sickly gray color except for a strange rust-colored belt around its center on one of the continents. All I remembered was that whatever had been mined there in the past had long ago been depleted. The planet was inhospitable. No one lived there. No one mined there anymore. It used to be the reason why this station was so important. Now it was the reason why the Yertina Feray was on a little-used trade route. No one came here, unless they were lost or in trouble.

We had been detoured here with mechanical difficulties. What was it Brother Blue had said?
An unexpected glitch.

Until Constable Tournour began speaking in rapid Universal Galactic, he seemed almost familiar. It wasn’t just that the Loor carried themselves the same as Humans, it was that their eyes were not so alien as the others’ were. Of course, his antennae and lack of eyebrows brought home the fact that Tournour was not at all Human.

“Please speak slowly,” I said. “I have no nanites.”

Tournour stared at me. He squared his broad shoulders. And then he began again slowly.

“You’d have been better off dead,” he said.

“I don’t think I agree with that,” I said.

“You will,” he said.

I said nothing. He intimidated me. I couldn’t look at him, so I looked at the plant and its yellow flower. It was brighter than the yellow suns I used to draw when I was a little girl.

“No one claims that you are missing,” Tournour said.

“I came here with the Children of Earth colonists on the
Prairie Rose
; we were heading to Beta Granade when we ran into engine trouble. We were docked here for repairs. You must have seen us on the station.”

It took me forever to form the words. Tournour was patient as he watched me struggle to speak.

“Yes, we saw the Humans.” Tournour made a face. It was a face that I was beginning to recognize; one of distaste for my species.

“And yet no one seems to admit that you exist. The Children of Earth claim to have never heard of you and therefore have no place for you on any of their four colonies. They also say all life forms are accounted for on the
Prairie Rose
and that you are not on that manifest. Earth, as you know, does not extend protection to those who choose to leave.”

“You are talking too fast,” I said.

He repeated himself.

“They left me behind,” I said.

“No one wants you,” Tournour said.

“My family wants me.”

“They have a funny way of showing it,” Tournour said.

“There’s been a mistake,” I said. “A misunderstanding.”

Tournour looked frustrated. I noticed that his skin patch turned darker as though he were flushed.

“Well, whatever the problem is, it’s no longer mine. We are no longer responsible for you,” he said.

“What will I do?” I asked.

“You can try to appeal,” Tournour said. “We can no longer afford to extend any hospitality to you. As I said, you are Human and not our problem.”

“Where will I go?” I asked.

“That’s the trouble with Humans, you think that the rules of the universe don’t apply to you and that you can wander anywhere. You travel and roam from place to place. Nomads. You fight against each other instead of working together.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” I said. “I just want to catch up with my mother and sister and head to the Human colony on Beta Granade.”

Tournour’s antenna folded and straightened.

“Do you have any friends on the station?” he asked.

“No. What’s left of my family and friends are on the
Prairie Rose
.”

“Do you have a currency chit?”

“No.”

Tournour paused.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” I said. “Almost fifteen.”

“Is that old or young?” Tournour asked. “It’s hard to tell with some species.”

“Young.”

“Are you a child?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“That’s a shame. If you were an actual child, then maybe I could find a loophole. There are more lenient rules regarding children.”

It was hard to read aliens, but it seemed to me that this one had softened.

I didn’t feel like a child. I was only months away from the age of majority. At 15 I could legally emancipate myself, even if I was not allowed to vote or marry or imbibe.

“Are you old or young?” I asked.

I could tell that I had surprised him. It pleased me a little bit that I could. It made the moment seem more real, rather than surreal, which was how I’d felt since the med bay released me and sent me here.

“Why would you care?” He seemed defensive. His antennae turned from left to right quickly. I’d agitated him.

“I’m just curious,” I said.

“I don’t know what your species considers old or young,” Tournour said, relaxing. “I haven’t met very many Humans. I’m not very well traveled.”

“You’re here,” I said.

“So are you,” he said and then paused. “I’m more than less.”

I didn’t understand what that meant. I knew that some species considered fifty years old to still be a child. No matter how hard Humans had tried to extend longevity, it was rare for anyone to be older than 115.

“Where will I go?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Who can I ask for help?”

His antennae folded and pointed at me. Then they stood back up straight.

“There is always the Ministry of Colonies and Travel,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Since only the five Major Species have embassies, the Ministry of Colonies and Travel is for everyone else with grievances. A place for colonists from Minor Species, or those below that, aliens with only home planets and no colonies at all. Every Minor Species always has something to grieve about. But you need to purchase a token to do a search.”

“I don’t have any currency,” I said. “I don’t have anything.”

“You are no longer the Yertina Feray’s responsibility. I don’t want to see you again. So stay out of trouble. And disappear.”

I stood there, not quite knowing if that meant I was dismissed. Suddenly, my feet would not move. This was not a dream that I would awaken from. Brother Blue really meant to leave me behind. Worse, he thought I was dead. No one I cared about knew that I was not OK. I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to.
Nothing.

No clear thoughts formed in my head on what to do next. There were no other Humans here to ask for help. Humans had never had a presence on this station, something I had learned while walking around, helping Brother Blue. The colonists had been the first Humans on the Yertina Feray in decades.

I was the only one of my species here.

Perhaps this constable was right. It would have been easier if I had died.

I screamed.

Tournour cocked his head to the side and his antennae moved wildly on his head. I felt embarrassed as he watched me melt down, but I could not stop. Tears came. A moment before, I had felt old enough, but maybe it was not too late to admit that I was still a child. Perhaps a loophole was my best bet.

But before I could beg, Tournour spoke again.

“I am going to turn around now and look at the planet, Quint. I am going to stare at it for a minute or two.”

Quint. That was the planet’s name.

“When I turn back you will be gone,” he continued. “I will not miss you. Nor will I notice anything of value that might be missing from this room.”

Tournour turned around. I looked around the room. There was a token on the desk. There were strange rocks on a shelf. Perhaps jewels. There were datapads. Perhaps electronics were valuable? But my eyes kept going back to the plant with the yellow flower. I stepped forward and snatched the plant and the token and ran out of the room just as Tournour was turning back around.

I could use the token to do a search. My family was likely on Beta Granade by now, and the first thing the colonists would do would be to set up a communications beacon.

I wandered the station until I found the Ministry of Colonies and Travel. The many empty sectors of the station hinted at its former glory: the grand hotels, the closed entertainment centers, the Sunspa, the places of worship that almost no one attended. Most of the levels were sealed off to save costs. Only a small part of the station was fully operational.

I knew that I did not look presentable, but there was nothing I could do about that. Once I reached my family, they could transmit enough currency to help me rejoin them. I kept reminding myself that although I felt alone, I did belong somewhere.

I was a Human colonist from Beta Granade.

Until I reached my mother, I would have to wait it out alone on the station. Perhaps it would be a few months before they would be able to make arrangements. I thought a few months might be bearable with the promise of a reunion at the end of it.

I was sitting patiently in the waiting room when a receptionist, a fat round alien with an enormous head, small extremities, and two mouths came out.

“Tula Bane,” he called. His voice sounded like a chord played on a piano, high and low tones at the same time. It was pure music.

I stood up and smoothed my dirty clothes as best I could to look my best when I talked to my family.

The receptionist began to speak quickly. The music ceased. One mouth was talking, agitated. The other one was frowning. I stopped him.

“What did you just say?” I asked.

“The
Prairie Rose
never made it to Beta Granade,” the alien said. “A trace shows that it disintegrated on its light skip into that system. All life forms were lost. It happens all the time. Many colonists never make it to the planet, and if they do, they often don’t make it past the first year alive. So hard to become a Major Species.”

The alien turned away. He did not say
I’m sorry for your loss
. Or,
Is there anything we can do to help you?
He just turned away and called on another waiting alien.

My family was dead. They weren’t going to come for me. There was no help to ask for. There would be no happy reunion. Not ever. I wondered if that’s what Tournour was trying to tell me when he’d said, “all life forms accounted for.” I wondered if his confusing kindness was meant to tell me to sell the token to someone else for currency.