The softwire : Virus on Orbis 1 (6 page)

The trip on the spaceway was quick. The ride through zero gravity let the transport travel at great velocities. Once the monorail passed back through the ring, gravity returned to normal.

“Children, stay together now. We will cross through the Trading Hall, where you will be assigned your Guarantor.”

As we followed Theylor off the spaceway, some of the other kids gathered around me.

“Couldn’t you tell you were a softwire?” asked one girl who had never spoken to me on the
Renaissance.

“How?” I replied.

“But you knew you could move files around just by thinking about it,” she said.

“I thought that was normal. I used to think speaking to Mother was normal,” I said, not accustomed to this much attention. I always kept to myself on the
Renaissance.
It felt odd discussing my newfound ability in front of everyone.

“Well, I’m glad they discovered that you’re a softwire,” Max said so everyone heard. “Makes us humans look a little more important, don’t you think?”

I heard Switzer scoff.

The Trading Hall spaceway station was nothing like New Arrival Processing. Flashing lights, booming announcements, and strange aromas of alien spices overloaded my senses. I walked with Theylor past brilliant O-dats that towered above me, advertising everything from private space shuttles to boots and even neural-port enhancements (whatever those were). Each vendor tried to upstage the next one. Holographic 3-D salespeople floated overhead, begging us to visit their trading chamber. I even saw a 3-D holograph passing out electronic paper to Theodore. He stood staring at the handout.

“How could he do that? He’s a holograph,” Theodore said.

“Children, we need to get through here quickly,” Theylor said. “We are about to go outside.”

I followed Theylor through the atrium doors. The crisp air caught me by surprise. Then it hit me. I’d never been
outside
before.

“Whoa,” Max said as she stood in the open air and looked up.

I followed her gaze. The effect was dizzying. I reached for something to steady myself with — anything.

“I’m gonna fall,” Theodore said, and sat on the ground.

The ring curled up and over my head. The stars were still visible toward the edges of the ring, and the atmosphere hung thick and dark, tinted with a greenish blue the color of hydraulic fluid. Something didn’t look right. My mind was wandering. I wasn’t thinking straight.
You need to sit down,
I told myself.

Theylor stood there watching us. “I should have anticipated this,” he said. “You have lived your entire lives under a ceiling. Take a moment to orient yourselves. This effect will diminish.”

I took deep breaths. The oxygen was thinner than on the ship or in the atrium. I looked around. The effect was the same on everyone.

“You all right?” I said to my sister. “What is it, Ketheria?”

She nodded and pointed above my head. I looked up and saw a tree, a beautiful, regal tree. I reached around and ran my hand along the trunk. Ketheria did the same. So did Max and Theodore.

“Please, children, if you are ready, we must proceed this way,” Theylor pleaded.

But this was a tree. A real tree. I had never seen one before. Yes, I’d seen digis of trees, but never one planted right in front of me.

“It’s so tall,” one boy said.

“I like the roughness,” another said.

Ketheria was right against the tree. She leaned her whole body against it and closed her eyes.

“Theylor?” came a voice behind us. I turned around and saw another Keeper marching across the garden. His gait was confident; his eyes focused on Theylor. “Why are these children not assigned yet? Their Guarantors grow impatient.”

His voice was steely and sharp. Nothing like Theylor’s. He was dressed in a purple robe, just like the other Keepers, but he carried himself with the same arrogance as Switzer.

“Children, let me introduce you to Drapling. He assists the Guarantors and the Trading Council with their new arrivals,” Theylor said.

“
Acquisitions
is the proper term,” Drapling corrected as he scanned the group.

Even though Theylor’s eyes were creepy, they still seemed deep and warm, almost comforting. But Drapling’s were the exact opposite. I could see fire rumbling behind them. The intensity withered his skin and made his foreheads scowl. I figured Drapling was someone to stay away from.

“I need every last one of you in the assignment sector now . . .
please,
” Drapling said. Theylor bowed his heads and did not interrupt.

Drapling turned his right head to Theylor and said, “Show me the Softwire.”

“Johnny, come here, please,” Theylor said.

How does this Keeper know about me already?
I wondered.

“A human softwire. Well, what a very big day for your species. I know of no other human with this ability. I’m sure your Guarantor will feel better for having to take care of a bunch of children.” Drapling then spoke to the whole group. “By decree set forth by the Keepers, the Trading Council, which arranged passage for your parents, must now take responsibility for your well-being.”

“As slaves!” Switzer interrupted.

“If you define slavery as working for your parents’ honor, as well as your keep, then, yes, as slaves. Most Guarantors are not happy about this situation, either. Instead of a shipful of adult workers, they must settle for a small cargo of unskilled children. But they will follow the orders of the Keepers, as will all of you. Now follow me . . . please.”

I had forgotten about Ketheria. She was still wrapped around the tree and had completely ignored Drapling’s request. As the other children filed past Drapling, I watched the Keeper turn and head straight for Ketheria. The determination in his stride made me feel that something bad was about to happen. I could not let him get ahold of my sister. I needed to do something, quick. I stepped in front of him.

“Drapling, what if I don’t want a Guarantor? What if I want to be on my own?” I asked.

That worked. Drapling stopped in midstride. Actually, everyone stopped.

“I wouldn’t choose this moment to get brave, JT,” Theodore said.

“There are many things you do not know, young human, such as the consequence we impose on those who do not follow the decrees set forth by the Keepers.” Drapling leaned in lower. He whispered now. “Break the decree and you just might wish you had died along with your parents.”

I barely heard what Drapling said. I was concerned only with my sister’s safety.

“Step out of my way,” Drapling demanded.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even glance back at her for fear I would tip Drapling off.
Move, Ketheria. Get back in line.

“Do you not hear me, Softwire?”

“Yes,” I said, “I understand.” I closed my eyes and stepped aside.

Drapling turned his attention back to Ketheria, but she was gone, safely hidden among the other children now filing into the Assignment Sector.

The Assignment Sector was even larger than the chamber at the New Arrival Processing Center.
How big is this place?
I wondered as Theylor guided us toward a ramp at the edge of the round room.

“Follow this to the stage at the far end,” Theylor said, pointing toward an area illuminated by an enormous pulsing teardrop of glass.

“Come here, Ketheria,” I said, and took her hand. Together we crossed the narrow riser, staying clear of the blue electrical fence that penned us in.

At our feet, running the entire length of the riser, stood a collection of aliens, who began pointing and whispering as we paraded past them.

“Is that fence for us or them?” Theodore said.

I stared down to the end of the riser, searching between the pulses of light to catch a glimpse of what they had in store for us. But whoever stood there waiting was concealed by the garish light, and I could only make out silhouettes against the tall, narrow windows that curved over the auditorium.

The riser opened onto a round stage big enough for all of us and then some. The electrical charge from the fence collected in a channel that encircled the entire area. Standing on the other side were four Keepers, now joined by Theylor and Drapling. Past them, waiting on a raised area made of stone and decorated with metal and crystal, was another group of aliens. They stared at us eagerly, as if sizing us up for something important.
Are these our Guarantors?
I wondered. My eyes darted from alien to alien, and I noticed that most of them flaunted some item bearing the insignia of Orbis. Whether it was a large belt or a necklace, a pin, or even a crown, each displayed the same symbol — four overlapping rings around a glowing light.

“Trusted Citizens,” Drapling announced, “we have your consignments.”

“So we belong to these guys now?” Theodore whispered.

I knew only Citizens could be Guarantors. “I guess so,” I said.

“Drapling, I want the Softwire,” grumbled one unusually large Citizen. His legs alone were six or seven times the width of my whole body. Perched on top of his massive light yellow form was a small pea-size face. At least twenty wires protruded from his skull and connected to a silver spherical device floating above his tiny head.

“How do they know about you already?” Theodore whispered.

“I think the central computer must have alerted them.”

“Why should you get the Softwire, Boohral?” said another Guarantor, jutting what might have passed for a chin toward the smooth, pale yellow giant. This Guarantor looked much older, with an abundance of wrinkled pink skin. His eyes drooped around the side of his head, and there was a large, clear bubble of skin on his forehead that changed color when he talked.

Boohral’s two assistants immediately struck an aggressive stance in front of the other Guarantor. The assistants wore vests matching the color of Boohral’s belt. I thought they might be Boohral’s bodyguards, but from the frightened expressions on their long faces, I knew they did not want to fight.

“Because, Torlee, there are certain Citizens who should not possess such an instrument,” Boohral said.

“Are you accusing me of something?” demanded Torlee, the fleshy globe on his head flushing a deep red.

“Enough with the ridiculous bickering!” Drapling shouted. “The assignments were made many years ago, before some of you were even involved. We will keep to the original agreements or you will forfeit your claims,” ordered Drapling.

“But we did not know there was a softwire on board!” Boohral shouted. “I demand a hearing before the Trading Council.”

But before Drapling could respond, Theylor spoke up and said, “Friends, please. This is an insignificant event. It does not require the valuable time of the Trading Council. The decree set by the Keepers cannot be changed. The Trading Council has agreed to commit to the cargo and we must disperse them.”

“Do not confuse this with a load of Greepling feed from Tristan,” Drapling said, his voice filled with contempt.

“Nor do I consider it a load of ordinary humans, either,” said another Guarantor with insectlike antennas. “How do we know there are not more softwires?”

The Guarantors grumbled to each other, and the atmosphere grew more and more intense. Boohral appeared to be gaining support.

Theylor raised his arms to quiet the crowd. “I assure you, every human was checked. There is only one,” he said.

“I’ll find it,” Boohral announced, and he pushed his way through the other aliens. The huge Guarantor labored toward a ramp at the end of the stone riser. A few of the children moved away from me as Boohral reached the open area where the Keepers stood. Theylor raised his hand, and the massive alien froze on the spot. I don’t think he could have moved even if he had wanted to.

“Engage the protector shield around the children,” Theylor said.

Drapling walked over to us. “This is for your own protection, but do not touch the barrier.”

With that, Drapling tapped on a portable O-dat molded to his wrist. The channel in the floor began to glow around us, and a force field shot up, surrounding us completely. A few of the kids gasped.

“Convene the Council,” Drapling ordered.

We sat and waited while the Keepers contacted the members of the Trading Council, all twelve of them. I overheard that some members were on other rings, while others were on the moons. A few members were even in distant galaxies. Five members attended the meeting only as holographic projections — larger-than-life three-dimensional representations that paced through the great hall above everyone’s heads. One of the projections was hunched over, talking intently with Torlee, whose head-bubble kept changing color. I noticed Boohral scrutinizing them from the corner of his eye.

“Now,” Drapling announced, “we will begin.”

One of the holographs stepped forward. “Which one of you has chosen to question the decree of the Keepers?”

“I have,” Boohral said.

“Ah, Boohral. You are always trying to change the deal,” said the Trading Council member.

“The deal changed. I did not. We were never told of the Softwire.”

“Nor were we, Boohral,” said the Trading Council member who had been talking to Torlee. She had jet-black skin and piercing silver eyes. “The deceased human cargo was not supposed to bring offspring. They broke this rule by storing embryos — embryos they planned to birth late in the journey. When the adults died from an unknown malfunction on the spacecraft, there wasn’t any knowledge of the unborn, let alone the existence of a softwire.”

“How do you know this?” demanded Boohral.

I wondered the same thing.

“Their ship is in our control now,” she said. “I personally searched the ship’s AI. There is nothing we don’t know,” she said.

I thought about my parents’ restricted files. Did they know about those, too?

The Trading Council member looked like a human, but I could not tell where her skin stopped and her leathery outfit began. Her pure white hair was braided. Strands of it hung in front of her face, while the rest lay obediently against her ebony skull.

“We learned that one of the children was a softwire only when the Keeper tried to install the implant. Theylor suspected the male’s abilities and ran the tests with the central computer. It was only then that the central computer notified us of the event. No one has tried to cheat anyone. The decree stands.”