Duster

“We are continually faced with great opportunities which are brilliantly disguised as unsolvable problems.”—Margaret Mead

Sector Two Airlock, Prime Dome

Planet Irkalla, Survivor’s Refuge

4452.2.16 Interstellar

With only minutes to go before the start of the Trials, Janus watched impatiently as Lira made her farewells to her father. The two of them looked as stiff as boards, her father making increasingly agitated if small gestures and Lira standing her ground, or at least appearing to from where Janus was standing. She’d made no attempt to call him over or introduce him, and Janus had no desire to meet a man who apparently hated him, but if she didn’t finish up soon, they were going to start late. “Should I go over there?”

“I wouldn’t,” Ivan answered.

“Don’t be a big idiot, big brother,” Callie said.

“We’re going to be late,” Janus said, fidgeting with the glove of his aspirant suit.

The crowd was the biggest yet. Even on Irkalla where every workday was needed to keep the human population alive, dome administration had given the early-shifters the day off and the main-shifters an early stop so they could watch the beginning of the Trials. They were mostly quiet, talking in low voices as they waited for Janus and Lira to begin their month-long journey.

“All right, Janus,” Ivan said, checking his suit over. “No big speeches. I wish I’d had another six months to train you for this, but you’re ready. Use Lira’s skills, but trust yourself. Not everyone is going to be on your side out there. Just remember the void takes, so make sure it takes someone else if it comes down to it.”

“I will,” Janus said, although he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Ivan stiffened, and Janus turned to see Administrator Bennin and a group of four wayfinders approaching. Their leader was clearly Nikandros, the architect’s pleated robes and silver mask easy to make out. The two people trailing him were wearing what Janus had always thought of as the typical wayfinders’ clothing, priests in simple white robes without cowls, pleats, or masks, who carried well-used bags full of tools and schematics on their backs and shoulders. The last man wore a cowl but no mask, and Janus was surprised to see it was Ryler Abraxxis, his longtime friend.

“The survivors of Prometheus, all in one place,” Nikandros said. “It seems we’ve come at the right time.”

“What do you want, priest?” Ivan asked, stepping in front of Callie.

“To give the aspirant a blessing, Emissary,” Nikandros said. “The path is long, as you well know.”

“Don’t call me an emissary, Priest,” Ivan said.

“Must you be so contrary, Ivan?” Bennin asked. “It’s the first day of the Trials.”

Ivan’s upper lip curled in disgust. “That title only applies to people who buy into their crap. I’m not their lackey.”

“There are many ways to serve, Emissary Invarian,” Ryler said with a gentle smile. “If your defiance keeps you alive, then you walk in the Survivor’s footsteps, regardless of the reason.”

Ivan balled his hands into fists.

Janus just felt cold. “So, what? You’re a wayfinder now?” he asked his old friend.

“I didn’t hide it from you, Janus. You knew me and my parents were devout.”

“You’re wearing different clothes than you usually wear,” Janus said.

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“So are you, my friend,” Ryler pointed out.

“I thought you might want to say your farewells, young man,” Nikandros said. “Librarian Abraxxis’s work in Prime Dome is concluded. He will be leaving with me, shortly after your departure. You may not see him again.”

Janus didn’t know how to feel about that. Ryler had been his best friend, sometimes his only friend. Did it matter that he was part of the Cult of the Survivor? Until recently, Janus had thought his uncle’s suspicion of the priests had been paranoia, and yet Nikandros had shown up with the Beta Station refugees just in time to push Prime Dome to the brink. “Thank you for being my friend, Ryler. It was a kindness, regardless of the reason.”

“I’ve appreciated your friendship as well, Janus,” Ryler said with the same old smile and the same kindness in his eyes. “I hope the tests ahead of you help you realize people don’t need a reason to be your friend. Your friendship is reason enough.”

Janus would have felt touched, under different circumstances.

“Are you really leaving?” Callie asked Ryler.

“I am,” Ryler said. “I’ve finished my studies here, and there are many more habitats on Irkalla that need to be cataloged.”

“Is that what a ‘librarian’ does? Spy on people?” Janus asked.

Ryler sighed. “I was born here and I grew up here, Janus. I worked a shift like everyone else.”

Administrator Bennin cleared his throat. “I understand Librarian Abraxxis was recently promoted within the cult. Congratulations may be in order.”

“What did I miss?” Lira asked, joining them with her helmet under her arm. She didn’t seem surprised to see Ryler in robes.

“You knew he was a wayfinder?” Janus asked.

“You didn’t?” Lira answered. “I thought you two were friends.”

“It never came up,” Janus said, blushing.

“It would have come up if he wanted it to,” Ivan said, putting his hand on Janus’s shoulder. “Five minutes until show time. Suit up.”

Janus nodded. He and Lira put on their helmets. The aspirant space activity suits came with microphones and speakers that allowed him to hear and speak without removing his helmet, which was a little unnerving since that was usually the first way to tell if the seal was broken, so he ran a quick diagnostic before checking Lira’s remotely. With that done, he gave Callie a hug and said, “See you when I get back, Bug.” He shook his uncle’s hand and then did the same with Administrator Bennin and Architect Nikandros. He looked at Ryler one more time and decided to hug him after all. There was no guarantee Janus and Lira would survive the Trials. He didn’t want to leave the dome weighed down with regrets.

“Strength through struggle, Janus,” Ryler said.

“How about we try for smarter, not harder, instead?” Janus answered, and he was relieved when Ryler laughed. Maybe his friend wasn’t some kind of fanatic after all.

“Come on, let’s take our places,” Lira said.

Janus bumped Ryler’s shoulder with his fist, then joined Lira at the starting line.

Since all the habitats were different, the wayfinders had decreed that the aspirants had to begin the Trials one hundred meters from an external airlock in the main population center. Janus stood there now, his toe on the line, ready to begin a journey he’d watched others begin dozens of times before. Some of those aspirants didn’t come back, either because they settled in a different dome after the Trials or because they died. Janus was going to make it back, though. He owed it to Callie, his uncle, and himself. He’d lived as a second-class citizen of Prime Dome for twelve years. He wanted to make it back and see a better side of the place, and also make things better for other immigrants who wanted to make Prime Dome their homes.

“Everything okay with your dad?” he asked Lira.

“No, but it’s too late to do anything about it,” she answered.

The crowd had gone quiet. There was a charge in the air, like the time Janus had worked on a faulty transformer. His muscles tensed, and the suit’s material registered even that slight motion, drawing taut like a bowstring. Lira leaned forward, ready to go, and Janus threw one last glance at his family. Stay smart and safe, Bug. Take care of Uncle Ivan.

The countdown reached zero, and the crowd roared.

“Go!” Janus said, and he and Lira took off.

Janus and Lira ran through the sea of people, the sound deafening, the ecstatic look on the people’s faces completely surreal. They crossed the hundred meters in twelve seconds thanks to the suit’s mobility assist and ran straight into the airlock, which started cycling as soon as they cleared the threshold. The run served the dual purpose of getting their heart rate up and testing the suits’ integrity. As Janus slid to a stop and the air was sucked out of the chamber, he had a moment’s worry he would wind up unconscious with a breached suit and lose precious time getting it patched, but then the outer door opened and he and Lira were running again.

Their boots sunk and slid through the Irkallan dust.

Five hundred meters to the buggies, Janus told himself. He was running at the best pace he could manage without exhausting himself. His retinal display told him his heart rate was steady at 130 beats per minute. Lira was keeping up with him; she’d had much longer to train than he had. His thighs and calves started to burn from running in the dust and grit, but they were almost to the buggies. He was tempted to speed up, but he kept his pace steady, even slowing down when his heart rate started creeping up and his visor started to fog.

Then they reached the buggies. Janus jumped onto the one with the trailer, and Lira took the unencumbered one, not stopping to wait for Janus before taking off.

He gunned the throttle and drove after her.

The Trials had begun.