The voice of Zen Arrath started singing. “My love for you is …”
I checked the lookup, and saw it wasn’t a recorded message from the Zen Arrath fan club this time, but an incoming call from my dad. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I had to accept the call to shut up Zen Arrath.
“Krath, I’m coming home,” said my dad. “Meet me at the house right away!”
“What? Why?”
He lowered his voice to speak in a dramatic whisper. “We’re making a special broadcast. The underground network has just sent out a priority relay alert!”
“Amaz!” I jumped to my feet. “What are we relaying?”
“It’s not safe to discuss this on the call system,” said my dad. “We have to get back to the house.”
He ended the call, and I started jogging across the scrap yard to the side gate. As I reached it, I saw a huge, emerald green butterfly was flapping its way along the fence towards me. I stopped and watched warily as the evil thing flew past me.
I hated Asgard butterflies. On my first day on this world, literally three hours after walking through an interstellar portal and arriving in Asgard Off-world, I’d seen a crimson and gold butterfly. I’d thought it was totally amaz, reached out to touch it, and the nuking thing bit me! Within minutes, my whole hand swelled up and went bright red. I ended up in a medical centre, with some officious doctor treating me for an allergic reaction while lecturing me on the stupidity of not reading the safety warnings when I arrived on a new planet. Given I’d lived on nine other worlds with perfectly safe butterflies, I felt he was being unfair, but I’d kept well clear of butterflies ever since.
I saw my dad heading for the house. The butterfly was at a safe distance now, so I went through the gate and hurried to join him at the front door. We went inside, and started our standard lock-down procedure ready for the broadcast. Secure the door. Set the windows to black-out mode. Activate all the proximity alarms.
Finally, we dragged the huge couch in the living room to one side, opened the trap door, and went down to the secret room under the floor. Dad turned on the glows, and hurried over to the bank of equipment by the side wall, throwing the master switch to turn everything on.
“So what’s happening?” I asked.
“No time to explain,” said my dad. “We’ve got to spread the news fast before the Military throw a security crackdown over the whole thing. You’ll hear all the details when I’m making the broadcast.”
“But you said I could do the next broadcast!”
“You can’t do this one because it’s a priority relay alert. You’ll have to do the next one instead.”
I glared at him. “You’re always doing this. You keep saying I can do a broadcast, but it never happens.”
“I promise faithfully you’ll make the next broadcast. Now get the vid bees out.”
“You promised faithfully last time!” I got the small spherical vid bees out of their case, and activated them. “You promised the time before that as well. It’s always the same. You make the announcement. I get stuck with controlling the vid bees.”
“This isn’t about personal glory,” said my dad. “This is about spreading the truth. Telling humanity the things the big newzie channels are scared to say. Reporting the real stories behind all the lies of Parliament of Planets and the Military.”
I sent the vid bees floating through the air to the far end of the room, and started them recording. “I don’t see why I can’t be the one spreading the truth for once.”
Dad put on his mask, and took up his position in front of the big “Truth Against Oppression” sign painted on the wall. Personally, I thought it was a boring name for a subversive news channel. All the other ten news channels in our underground network had more exciting names than us, but Dad never listened to my suggestions for a new name. He never let me do a broadcast. He never …
“Wake up, Krath,” said my dad. “Can’t you see I’m ready to broadcast?”
I sighed and went over to the equipment bank. “Broadcast in three, two, one …” I hit the red button.
“This is Truth Against Oppression,” said my dad. “The channel that brings you the real truth behind the lying official propaganda. This is a special broadcast in addition to our regular weekly news update. Remember to follow our channel to make sure you never miss these vital extra broadcasts with emergency breaking news.”
I frowned. Only the viewers who already followed our channel would be seeing this, so reminding them to follow us was a bit silly.
“Today we’re relaying an emergency news story from an underground news channel in Delta sector,” said my dad. “They’re reporting a Military failure that’s been covered up for three decades. One of the worlds in Epsilon sector was cleared as safe by Planet First teams, and moved into Colony Ten phase. A thousand trusting colonists went there only to find that every one of their babies was born Handicapped, with an immune system that couldn’t survive on any world but Earth.”
I gaped at him in shock. I could see why the underground network had called for a priority relay alert on this story. The Military had really messed up. They’d be eager to throw a news blackout on this before the word spread.
“Worse still,” continued my dad, “the Military still refused to admit their failure. In an act of criminal irresponsibility, they allowed the planet Miranda to continue and be opened for full colonization.”
I wasn’t just shocked now, I was utterly grazzed. This story was huge!
My dad flourished an arm dramatically. “The Military have kept their secret for three decades now. For three decades, every baby born on Miranda has had to be portalled to Earth to save its life. For three decades, the parents of Miranda have wept for their lost children. For three decades, the Military have forced these people to suffer in silence, and …”
There was a sudden shrieking sound. I stared up at the ceiling in bewilderment, then realized one of the proximity alarms was going off. My dad broke off his sentence, and slammed his hand on the black button that cut the alarm siren. He started speaking again in an even more dramatic voice.
“This is Truth against Oppression. We are being raided! We are being raided! Going silent running now!”
I was so busy staring at Dad, that I didn’t remember to hit the red button to cut the broadcast until he pointed at it. We practiced raid response drill every month, so I automatically followed the routine after that, shutting down the vid bees and all the electrical equipment. My dad was opening the hidden door to the reinforced panic room now, waving at me to join him, so I ran across and we both squeezed inside.
It was when Dad was closing the door behind us, that his lookup bleeped the house interior alarm signal. I’d been counting on this being a false alarm until then, but if the interior alarm was going off then someone was inside our house. This was really happening. Armed Military were searching our house. I was either going to be shot, or locked up in some Military prison for the rest of my life.
Nuke this! My dad might be happy to die to spread the truth, but I wasn’t!
My dad shut the door, so we were in total darkness. For a couple of minutes, there was just the sound of our breathing, and then there was another sequence of bleeps from my dad’s lookup. I bit my lip. That was the alarm warning us that someone had opened the trapdoor. The Military were in the secret broadcast room now, so there was only the panic room door between us and them.
This was so unfair. I was going to die, and I hadn’t even got my chance at doing the broadcast!
There was silence for about five more minutes, and then Zen Arrath started singing from my lookup. I jumped nervously, banged my head on the low ceiling, and tapped frantically at my lookup. In my haste to shut up Zen Arrath, I accidentally answered the call, and a grim female voice spoke.
“Krath, I assume you’re inside that absurd panic room with your father. He’s blocking my calls, so can you tell him there’s no point in hiding from me. I’m right outside the door, and I in
tend to stay here until he comes out and talks to me!”
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or even more scared than before. It wasn’t armed Military in our broadcast room. It was my Aunt Galina!
My dad groaned, squeezed past me to the door, and opened it. Aunt Galina watched us with that frosty look of hers as we scrambled out into the broadcast room. Dad straightened his clothes, and gave her an angry look.
“Why did you break into my house, and how did you get past the security defences?”
“It’s not your house,” said Aunt Galina, “it’s mine, and I used my front door security master code to get in.”
“It may be technically your house,” said Dad, “but I’m renting it from you. I have a legal right to privacy. You’ve no business marching in here without my permission!”
Aunt Galina gave him a withering look. “You would have a legal right to privacy if you actually paid me the rent you owe, which you don’t. You prefer to spend your money making illegal alterations to my property for your ridiculous vid channel, Truth Against Depression.”
“It’s not Truth Against Depression, it’s Truth Against Oppression,” said Dad, “and it’s not ridiculous. We’re performing an essential public service, telling people the truth behind all the official lies. You’ve interrupted a critically important broadcast by marching in here. We must tell the whole of humanity about Miranda!”
“Who is Miranda?” asked Aunt Galina.
“Miranda isn’t a person,” said Dad. “It’s a planet in Epsilon sector. The Military messed up choosing it as a colony world. There aren’t any children there, because every baby is born a throwback ape!”
Aunt Galina looked even more disapproving. “I dislike hearing the Handicapped described in such disrespectful terms. They’ve simply been born with a faulty immune system.”
“It makes no difference what we call them,” said Dad. “They aren’t going to hear us because they can’t leave Earth. Anyway, it’s not as if they’re really human.”
“The Handicapped are as human as we are,” said Aunt Galina. “In fact, I’d argue they’re far more human than you.”
My dad glared at her. “That’s …”
She swept on, drowning him out with her voice. “What you’re telling me is that you’re spreading yet another wild rumour. There are several highly respected vid channels who take risks to reveal genuine stories of true public interest. Your channel can’t hope to have the respect and viewers that they do, until you start checking your facts before broadcasting them.”
“This story isn’t a wild rumour,” said Dad.
She sighed. “So you’ve checked the details yourself this time?”
“Well … no. It’s totally unreasonable to expect me to go to a planet in Epsilon sector myself.”
She sighed again, and tapped at her lookup for a moment. “Totally unreasonable? You could portal to Asgard Off-world, go through an interstellar portal to Gamma Sector Interchange 6, join a cross-sector block portal to Epsilon, and arrive in time for the once a day block portal to Miranda in … just under thirty-six hours’ time.”
“All that portalling would be expensive,” said Dad, “and I can’t spend three or four days going to Epsilon sector. I’ve got a business to run.”
“But I thought this was a critically important story,” said Aunt Galina. “Still, if going to Miranda is too much trouble, you could verify your facts in other ways. Why not look up the contact information for a few random people on Miranda, and call them?”
“I can’t start calling complete strangers on Miranda,” said Dad.
“Then just check the import and export information for Miranda.” Aunt Galina tapped at her lookup. “Miranda is an agricultural world, exporting food as well as genetically modified corn for the vaccine industry. It imports all its manufactured goods, including a surprising number of baby clothes for a world with no children.”
“Information is easily faked,” said Dad. “The Military cover things up very thoroughly.”
“Some of those baby clothes are made here on Asgard,” said Aunt Galina. “You could spend half an hour visiting the manufacturing centre and establishing the facts, but you won’t because the truth might spoil your exciting story.”
“It’s not like that,” said Dad. “I have to …”
Aunt Galina waved an imperious hand. “Be quiet! I’ve wasted more than enough time on yet another hopeless attempt to teach you basic common sense. I’m really here to see Krath.”
I’d been watching in total silence, waiting for a chance to sneak off and hide in my bedroom, but now I gave a startled yelp. “Me? Why me?”
She turned to look at me, studying me as if I was some sort of beetle. “Krath, your father is an idiot. You appear to be an idiot too, but I’m aware that may not be entirely your fault. Your father chose to drag you between a dozen different worlds without the slightest consideration for the effect on your education.”
“That’s not true,” said Dad. “It was only ten worlds, and it wasn’t my fault we had to keep moving. I was a fugitive! The Military were hunting me!”
Aunt Galina glanced at him. “If the Military had ever had the slightest interest in you, they could have arrested you years ago. They could have located you any time they wanted. Every time you step through a portal, your genetic code is scanned for billing purposes, and Military Intelligence have full access to that information.”
She turned back to me. “I intervened when you were 14, Krath, offering your father this house if he settled down here on Asgard. I thought this would give you the chance to attend school normally, but instead I find he’s turned what was a beautiful field into a scrap yard, and taken you out of school to use you as unpaid labour.”
“Krath’s not unpaid labour,” said Dad. “I may not actually be paying him any credits, but he’s being rewarded by learning valuable skills as my apprentice.”
Aunt Galina ignored him. “Krath, I feel it is my duty as your aunt to make one final attempt to remove you from your father’s scrap yard, and salvage you as a human being. I’m offering to take you to live in my own home.”
“Live with you?” I gulped.
“You will live in my home until next Year Day, Krath. You will spend every waking hour of every day studying history. On Year Day 2789, you will become 18 and legally adult. At that point, you’ll leave my home and become a student on a residential course run by University Asgard.”
I’d been busily picturing life with Aunt Galina, and shuddering with horror, but the mention of University Asgard caught my attention. “What? I’d be a proper student?”
“Yes,” said Aunt Galina. “I am an exceptional history teacher. I’ve often said that I could teach an intelligent rabbit enough history to get them into a leading university, and this is my chance to prove it.”
I frowned. “I’m not a …”
“It’s out of the question,” said Dad. “Krath doesn’t want to be a history teacher like you.”
Aunt Galina laughed. “I can’t imagine Krath as a history teacher. I think he’d be far more suited to practical excavation work, but this is his decision, not ours. Do you wish to spend the rest of your life doing unpaid work for your father, Krath, or would you like to be in a class with other students of your own age?”
I hesitated before speaking. “I’m not sure. Going to school never worked out very well. The other kids didn’t like me. They all had friends already, and they called me names. I wouldn’t have minded a bit of teasing. Friendly teasing means you’re part of the group, accepted as one of them, but this was meant to be really nasty.”
For a second, I thought there was a hint of sympathy in Aunt Galina’s face. “This time, Krath, everyone in the class will be just as new as you, and trying to make friends. You will be living, working, and studying together, and I assure you there will be no bullying. I have contacts at University Asgard, and can make sure that you’re in a class with a lecturer who deals with such problems quickly and
effectively.”
I thought for a moment. Spending months with Aunt Galina would be a nightmare, but at the end of it … “There’d be girls in this class?”
“There would be girls,” said Aunt Galina. “You’d need to learn some social skills before they were interested in you, but there would be girls.”
I considered that. If there were girls …
Aunt Galina tapped at her lookup. “It might help if you scan this.”
Zen Arrath started singing from my lookup. I hastily cut him off and checked what Aunt Galina had sent me. A boring history text, rambling on about primitive twentieth century vids. I looked up at Aunt Galina. “This is the sort of thing I’ll be stuck reading all day?”
She smiled. “You haven’t got to the end yet, have you?”
I groaned, looked down at my lookup, and skimmed on. At the end of the text, there were two images. The first one showed some men in weird, uncomfortable looking clothes. The second was a girl on a beach. I blinked. The girl was only wearing a couple of strips of cloth. You could see her legs, all the way up to her …
I made a choking noise. My Aunt Galina couldn’t possibly have realized that image was included in the text. Or could she?
“Most worlds, with the obvious exception of those in Beta sector, have strict rules against showing legally private body areas,” said Aunt Galina. “However, clothing etiquette has varied greatly through history. Images for school texts are carefully chosen to avoid offending the moral sensitivities of pupils, or more correctly, to avoid scandalizing their parents.”
She paused. “Personally, however, I strongly disapprove of such censorship. I believe students of history need unrestricted access to images to achieve a full understanding of the cultures in different places and different periods of history. What do you think, Krath?”
I nodded eagerly. “I agree. You’re totally right.”
“So, would you like to accept my offer and start studying history?” asked Aunt Galina.