Xenia Dreams

by Scot Noel

Evening rotated down the walls of the great cylinder and the first stars appeared. Andrey stood on a patio overlooking the forest’s edge and called for Bobik, the Labrador the authorities had come for, half hoping the jet-black canine would have the sense to escape into the woods.

“Andrey, come inside,” his father called from the back door of the home where they were staying. “The men are here. Leave Bobik on the patio. This won’t take long.”

A chill caught Andrey as he turned, but Bobik suddenly appeared, taking the patio steps three at a time before jumping to his back feet and planting his paws on the boy’s waist. The dog’s tongue lolled and licked across Andrey’s arm as he scratched behind Bobik’s ears and moved his hands roughly down the Labrador’s back. His constant companion of the last five years was wet, sporting muddy paws, and seemed as happy as it was possible for a Labby to be. Kneeling for a second, Andrey said “It’ll be alright. I don’t know how. But somehow. You stay here.”

Both the patio and the home it adjoined were composed of burnished metal and polished glass. In the evening, the home glowed with a warm, yellow light. It was nestled among many similar structures stretching for kilometers on either side. Behind and above this neighborhood, on the opposite side of the great cylinder, Andrey could see the city of Xenia, starting on the horizon and rising like a wall of glittering spires and tubular trafficways, creating its own flickering milky way above the forest opposite.

The panel to the sitting room opened at Andrey’s approach. Two unfamiliar men in uniforms were already seated on the family sectional, one sipping at tea provided by their hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Comella, the other busily tapping at a large handheld, as if readying for the interview. Andrey’s father had taken a seat in a nearby lounger, dressed in mismatched blue coveralls and white boots. They were the only clothes he had left. He stood nervously as the men took notice of his son’s entrance.

“Didn’t you want to see my dog?” Andrey asked the officers.

“So, you’re Andrey Melnyk,” said one of the men with a rather jovial energy. “Nice to meet you, son.  My name is Officer John Harper. This is Sergeant Brecken. We, ah… don’t need to actually examine your emotional support animal. This visit is to check up on you and your father.”

“You’re not going to test Bobik, make sure he’s not a carrier?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Officer Harper explained. “You all made it through quarantine.”

“I can keep Bobik,” Andrey said, making it more a statement than a question.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, son. Sit down, and help us with the job we’re here for.”

Andrey sat cross-legged on the floor, a cocktail table between himself and the officers. Their hosts, the Comella’s, hovered nearby, offering refreshments and being very respectful of the men occupying the sectional.

“I know it’s been a confusing time for you, these last few weeks.”

“Whatever.”

“So,” officer Harper turned to Andrey’s father, “Mr. Melnyk, we have you and your son coming in at Port 32, aft of the factory mods on 3/21. That was at the height of the evacuations from O’Neill Prime. Says here you came in on a rock crusher, a mining rig registered to Bernal Corp, called the “Ore Seeker.” Did that all go OK?”

“How do you mean?” Andrey’s father answered nervously. He held a cup of tea their hosts had offered.

“Well, did anyone ask you for payment? We’re you pressured to give up any of your possessions?”

“Oh, no,” Mr. Melnyk answered quickly. “Everyone’s been so helpful. You can’t imagine the swarms of people and the ships coming and going.  There were just minutes between one airlock cycle and the next. Everyone kept things calm and moving.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” John interrupted, ticking off a checkmark on his handheld. “Give me a sense of possessions and resources. I don’t need the balance of your checkbook or an inventory of belongings at this point; just give me a sense of your needs at the moment.  Can you make rent, for example, will you have enough to eat, sufficient clothing and the like?”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that, officer,” said Mrs. Comella. “We’re a Class 5 family; we can handle Mr. Melnyk and Andrey well enough.” Standing straight and folding her arms within the flowing sleeves of her gown, she smiled with genuine warmth. “It’s nice to have a boy in the house again. My husband and I believe in the ways of Reception. We have enough to get the Melnyks started again.”

“My wife’s the same,” John said with a smile, just as his sergeant shifted uncomfortably. “Back to it then. Just so you know, there will be government resources available when needed,” the officer assured his small audience.

“We didn’t arrive with more than some clothes and a few personal items,” Mr. Melnyk explained. “We did have time to pack and I arranged for movers, but in the end it was a rush, wasn’t it? They didn’t have place for any bags on the mining ship. And the movers haven’t answered since. I am trying to transfer my pension and my savings, but the Prime banks are offline now, and I… I do want to pay all this back when we can. Pay everyone…”

“Don’t worry about it, Tato,” said Andrey firmly, hearing the anxiety in his father’s words.

“Indeed not,” Mrs. Comella added as she freshened the older man’s tea. “You have our home and our aid for Sine Die… ah, you understand, Mr. Melnyk?”

“As long as necessary,” Mr. Comella spoke up, his voice firm.  Turning to the officials, he continued in the same decisive tone. “Gentlemen… officers, you must see that we have more than enough resources to do our part. Why, we volunteered to take on a full family with children, but…”  His cheeks puffed as he silenced himself.

“Andrey,” Mrs. Comella addressed the boy directly, as she had been watching him with concern, “my anata doesn’t mean anything by that. Only that we are privileged to be able to help two or three times as many, if needed.”

“Or any without a dog,” Andrey said, staring at the carpet.

“Andrey, our hosts!” his father stood angrily.

“Well then,” Officer Harper said. “Let’s talk about your dog.” He scrolled to a new page on his handheld. “Registered as an emotional support animal. Assigned to you at age 10. You’re 15 now, Andrey, correct?”

Breaking in, Andrey’s father explained with quick words how the boy’s mother had died in a decompression accident when Andrey was 9, and after some reverses in his socialization skills, an emotional support animal —specifically a Labrador pup named Bobik— had become his constant companion.

“Prime has been declining for years,” Sergeant Brecken stated flatly, as if death by something as unpleasant a mechanical failure was inevitable on the older habitat. “Is the animal still needed?” the Sergeant asked. The question brought a tangible silence to the room, one which lingered uncomfortably until Brecken stood and asked the same question again.

“Bobik is…” Mr. Melnyk also stood, still holding his tea. “Bobik is family.”

“He’s not carrying any diseases,” Andrey said, also coming to his feet. “He’s not contaminating any—”

“We’re not asking for reimbursement,” Mrs. Comella interjected.

“Domina,” Sergeant Brecken respectfully addressed the woman of the house, “we know what’s being said on the channels, don’t worry about that.”

Andrey shivered. No matter how welcoming the Comellas and those like them, on Xenia the chatter channels and infinitalk stations were no place to find welcome.  No matter its history of “welcoming the weary, the wanderers, the star-lost souls seeking a home above the worlds…,” Xenia today felt under siege. Tens of thousands of refugees from O’Neill Prime were crowding its shelters, breathing its air, and overwhelming its every resource. Or at least, that was the story.

It was certainly hard to see that here, in the Comella’s quiet home.

“Andrey,” Officer Harper put down his tablet and took up his tea, a move calculated to diffuse tension and gain some quiet focus. “We understand that you’ve lost everything, and now you fear another loss, your ESA… your dog. Of course, Xenia has few animals. Special arrangements have been made: legal, social, and practical to accommodate certain types, like service and support animals, but it’s a foreign custom to us.”

“Bobik isn’t infected,” Andrey insisted.

“We know that,” Brecken said. “But let me ask you, did you ever see the infection on O’Neill Prime?”

“Me? No,” Andrey lied.

“I ask because you and your father lived near one of the blighted aerowoods on O’Neill Prime.” Brecken tried but failed to hold Andrey’s gaze. The boy turned away toward the patio where Bobik waited. “That’s why you were relocated to familiar surroundings. I thought you might be able to help us better understand what to look for. In case something dormant manifests over time.”

“We didn’t bring any infection with us,” Andrey’s father said with pleading tones.

“Of course not,” Officer Harper said calmly, reassuringly.

“Bobik passed quarantine,” insisted.

“I’m afraid that’s only the start, son,” Sergeant Brecken answered. “There is a lot of evaluation to do, and that was just the start. For one thing, even as a guest of Xenia, we can offer you and your father advanced Neuropsychotraumatology and Integrative Trauma Therapy. The idea of an animal to aid with emotional difficulties is… rather foreign to us.”

As he said these words, failing to stumble over even the most difficult of them, Brecken started as Bobik suddenly broke into an abrupt series of baying calls from the edge of the patio.

“We’re used to it,” said Mrs. Comella. “It’s how they talk.”

“I see.” Brecken reasserted his professional demeanor. “What’s it saying?”

“Not sure,” Andrey answered as he walked toward the patio. “No squirrels on Xenia. I’ll call him in; would you officers like to meet him?”

“No… ah, no thank you!”

“Not now.”

Exiting the room for the cooler air of the patio, Andrey reached Bobik and began to run his fingers behind the Labby’s ears. The barking stopped, but Andrey knew something was out there, even in the absence of squirrels. He stayed at Bobik’s side and gazed toward the shadowed woods until he was sure the officers in the room behind him were gone.

###

Days go by, the channel chatter gets worse. Some suspected infection has been found near the docks, emanating from the body of a dead cat. Father can’t get any money from accounts. Someone from a house down the row throws a stone at Bobin on their walk.

The habitat providing them refuge was not only Xenia in name (after the Greek concept of “welcoming”), it had a strong history of taking in those far from home and seeing to their welfare.  In earlier generations, as the space between the worlds filled with O’Neill and McKendree Cylinders, Bernal Spheres, Bishop Rings, and Stanford Tori, the need for rescue and providing sanctuary to refugees was far more common. In those days, migrants and wanderers who ended up at Xenia often reciprocated by becoming citizens and devoting their lives to paying back and paying forward.

In the days to follow, Andrey burned through the battery on his old handheld before lunch each day. Claims of contaminated land near one of the major ports blew up, spreading beyond Xenia to other habitats dealing with O’Neill refugees. Channel chatter claimed a pet cat had contaminated the soil, its body reduced to shards of bone and fur as some dormant infection burst forth.

There were riots in some city neighborhoods. In the early morning, while Andrey and Bobik walked near the forest’s edge, someone threw a rock at the Labby, skinning bark from a nearby tree. Luckily there was only one set of legs Andrey saw running away between the trees. It took all he had to hold Bobik back from exacting revenge.

For Andrey, it was difficult to settle on any gesture of thanks that might be meaningful. Nano systems in the Comellas’ home cleaned everything, keeping surfaces shiny and clothes bright, even assimilating dog hairs with little trouble. When he thought of sharing his favorite dishes from O’Neill Prime, he found the servos knew them all and prepared any meal with a gastronomic excellence Andrey could never match.

Though he scanned the channels daily, there were no jobs a teenager might apply for. On Xenia, positions that offered monetary compensation were in healthcare and education, ethics and social justice, management and research, counseling, craftsmanship, and the performing arts. Back on Prime, Andrey had been learning how to weld in a vacuum, but on Xenia cold welding seemed like a job for low level mechs.

Andrey tried talking with his dad, but the man proved more distracted by the day, his mind descending to a slow realization that all was lost. Their savings gone. His work forever finished. They were lost and on their own.

Andrey didn’t have much of a plan, but the plan he did have involved disappearing into the wilds of Xenia’s forest.

In the middle of the night, with a strap-pack loaded down by snack bars, water, and a few vacuum sealed meals, Andrey tapped his sleeping dog on the crown made a hand gesture for quiet. In a few seconds they were out on the patio deck, down the stairs, and gone.  He left his handheld behind, with a message expressing gratitude to the Comellas and conveying love to his father. Considering Andrey’s plan, he almost appropriated his father’s white boots, but they were a bit oversized and their reflective sheen would hardly help him blend into the landscape.

###

They took no rest that night. Andrey and Bobik walked for hours through the dark, first crossing the meadow between the suburban neighborhood and the tree line, then into the inky shadows between the towering alders. Andrey recognized these trees from his home habitat, as alders were historically used to help purify air and fix nitrogen in the soil of habitats. Willows near the streams would be another familiar sight, but the poplars and birches dominating the hills were, for him, nameless and unfamiliar.

Bobik stayed close, brushing lightly against Andrey’s right leg to keep him out of trouble. Like most canines, the Labrador couldn’t see in complete darkness. But the city lights on the cylinder walls high above them, mixed with starlight from the solar transparencies, proved enough.

The sounds of crickets and cicadas were welcoming, though Andrey was happy to note the drone of mosquitos went unheard. That invasive species seemed absent from the woodlands of Xenia. Deep in the shadowed dark, frogs and toads serenaded the night with their croaks and chirps. When Bobik disappeared to scout ahead, Andrey hoped the Labby was not hunting one of those. That mistake had already cost the pooch much unpleasantness in his younger days.

“It’s not so bad,” Andrey told his companion when Bobik returned to brush up against his side, tongue lolling. “We’ll find a stream tomorrow and hope we both still know how to catch fish. Here you go.” And with that, Andrey doled out a piece of protein bars to his indefatigable canine.

Night passed and morning came, and when it did Andrey heard neither sirens nor the buzz of police drones overhead. Making better time in the light, they kept to the cover of the trees as best they could and continued marching spinward.

###

All the first day was uneventful. There were no trails and no nature seekers to avoid. They found a stream, but it was too shallow for fish. The air was sweet, the sun warm, and Xenia itself appeared to be so large, there were none of the Coriolis forces that could cause vertigo when moving quickly or changing direction.

Andrey found rest at the foot of an elder tree. Its bark was rugged and deeply fissured. Its canopy was uneven, but expansive and shielding. That night, he used his pack as a pillow. Having encountered no one else for two days suggested both that the forests of Xenia were, surprisingly, seldom visited by the local inhabitants, and that they had not yet considered the possibility he would hide strike out into their depths.

The drones came before night the next day.

Andrey had been going over his threadbare plans, lost in reverie when Bobik spotted the first drone cresting a far hill. It was a four-legged mechanical, not unlike the Labby in its form factor. Bobik barked excitedly and turned to face the distant threat. His senses alerted, Andrey now heard the whine of rotor drones from above the trees.

“Quiet, boy!” Andrey grabbed for Bobik’s collar and pulled him to the base of a nearby tree.  The next thing he heard was the voice of his father, his dad’s quiet voice magnified to ring like a bell.

“Andrey, we’re looking for you! If you hear me, find a space where we can see you. If you’re hurt, tell Bobik to run to my voice. We’ll find you, don’t worry.”

Bobik whined a confused whine and might have bolted toward the familiar voice if Andrey didn’t hold him still. From behind the bole of a birch tree, Andrey watched as the four-legged drone on the distant hill raised itself on hind legs. The light glinted off its spinning sensors.

He was backing away, his hand on Bobik’s collar when another voice came at him from the ferns and duff only a meter or two away. The Labby lunged, barking wildly, but Andrey held and calmed his canine companion. There was no one to be seen.

“Good, boy,” said the voice, though Andrey was uncertain as to whether it was addressing himself or Bobik. “I’m over here. I’m going to stand up but keep that dog in tow; I don’t want none of us getting’ hurt.” With that a short, stout figure rose slowly from the green alder leaves and windblown detritus that covered him.

It was a man dressed in a ghillie suit, a kind of camouflage for the soldiers of old Earth. Andrey knew that much from watching the channels.

“I ain’t here with them,” said the shaggy green figure, pointing a long knife toward the drones overhead. “But if you don’t come quick, they’ll catch all of us.”

Bobik continue to bark and twisted to find release from Andrey’s grasp.

“That pupper will have us all in for it if you can’t quiet her.  If you know what’s best, follow me. Quick!”

Not knowing what else to do, Andrey crouched down so he could keep Bobik in hand while following the mysterious figure. They didn’t have to travel far.  Only a few minutes away he watched as the figure in the ghillie suit moved down toward a sheltered embankment. There he waited for Andrey to get closer. Then the figure appeared to reach into the hillside, pulling away a door and revealing the darkness within.

“Come inside!  Bring that yapper too or it’s all over.”

Andrey halted, took a deep breath, and moved toward the shelter. Instead of barking, Bobik resisted, but with his master’s grip solidly around the canine’s collar, the Labby could do little but back-peddle as they approached the interior of the shelter.

“Andrey,” came his father’s voice from the sky, “I’m here. I’m looking for you. Don’t worry, we’ll find you.”

Then Andrey was inside and the figure in shaggy camouflage closed the grass hatch behind them, blotting out the light.

“Hold on,” said the stranger’s voice. A small hand lantern blazed. “There, in the corner, some dry pine to sit on. Keep your voice down.”

Andrey could barely hear the drones outside, and the little shelter proved warm and not uncomfortable, but Bobik wouldn’t settle and whined, circling nervously as though caught in a trap.

“A runaway, eh?” asked the figure. Removing the ghillie head gear, the man revealed a shock of red hair and a thick face with a dark, ginger beard. “That’s inconvenient. They’ll be out there for days in that case. You look ah… you look newcomer to me. From O’Neill Prime?”

“Yeah,” said Andrey. Bobik huddled close, but never took his eyes off the man at the door.

“And a big talker, it seems.  Name’s Harrogate, and I guess I’m a runaway too. I do best on me own. And you’re not helping me out here.  So, what’s the plan?”

With the lantern focused squarely on his face, Andrey could barely see. He pressed his back into the corner and held on tight to Bobik. Suddenly, ducking into this hideaway seemed like a very bad idea. Bobik whined and sniffed at the strange surroundings.

“Hey, you got anything in that bag worth much?”

Andrey reached back over his shoulder, tentatively making sure his travel pack was still with him. He could feel the confusion dominating his expression as he tried to see past the light in his eyes.

“Just toss it here, boy.”

Something in the man’s voice made Andrey obey without protest. He swung the bag up from his sitting position and felt it taken away with a rough pull. The lantern light then shifted and Andrey saw his new acquaintance holding a gleaming stretch of steel, a knife about seven inches long and undeniably formidable. Harrogate pulled down the zipper with the point of his blade and dumped the contents on a makeshift shelf just inside the door.

“Nice pickins,” said Harrogate. He cut a protein bar in two with barely a touch of the blade. “Where you off to? What’s the plan?  Come on, might as well spill it. If I wanted to toss you to the drones, that’d be done by now. What’s the plan?”

Busy sniffing at the walls and whining, Bobik backed into Andrey’s lap  as though it were the only safe place to be.

It’s a stupid plan,” said Andrey.

“Probably so.”

“Well, I know the forest runs up toward the cargo ports. If I could walk it, there must be ships coming in from all over. I want to find an Earther. See if I can work my way planetside.”

Harrogate had been chewing lustily on a protein bar, but at these words he slowed. He seemed to consider something, and while doing so he sheathed his knife.

“Good plan.”

“You think so?” Andrey asked, his voice more childlike than he intended. There was something powerful about the redhead in the ghillie suit, and a moment of approval felt good after a couple of days on the run.

“Where do you think I’m from?” Harrogate resumed chewing. “Let me tell you, Earth’s the place for a boy and his dog.  You gotta handheld?”

“Left it where I was staying.”

“Probably for the best. I have a scrap of eversheet somewhere; I’ll sketch you a map. When the big cargos come in, you’ll see day jobbers waitin’, some lookin’ to work passage across system. That’ll be you.”

“Thanks.”

Harrogate looked at his wrist as though a device there was pinging for attention. He tapped something twice. “You want to thank me, let’s all of us keep quiet for about three minutes. Those mech dogs are sniffin’ close.” A minute passed, then another, with the shaggy figure’s attention intently focused on the wrist device. When he spoke again it was in a whisper. “Nano-tech in the walls is keepin’ us shielded from their sensors. Some of my best stuff. It digests organics in the soil for power.  It’ll eat anything.”

When Andrey looked nervous enough to rise to his feet, Harrogate waved him back down. “Well not us, boy.  Settle yourself.  We’re almost in the clear.  They’re off to spinward. We’ll have some time before they zig back this way.”

A few moments later, Harrogate opened the thatched door to the little shelter and let the sunlight in. Bobik pulled quick, and catching Andrey off-guard, jetted past the man in the ghillie suit and out the door. For his part, Harrogate burst into laughter, easing the tension for the first time since he had come upon the boy and his dog.

Before dark, Harrogate showed Andrey where the pit toilet was. After the ghillie man set a few motion sensors, they slept in the open, near the little shelter, it’s door open and waiting in case a quick retreat proved necessary.

###

In the morning, they fished a nearby stream. The woodsman unpacked lines they could use by hand and he had previously deployed traps using branch and root that proved effective on the native bluegill.  Using his knife, Harrogate descaled his kills in the water of the stream. The results gave them the foundation of a satisfactory meal, and they headed back to the shelter with the sun high overhead.

All this time, Bobik stayed near Andrey —nervously so— watching Harrogate and what he could see of the horizon with equal diligence.

“What are you doing out here?” Andrey finally worked up the courage to ask.

“Now that’s a question,” Harrogate said as he skewered each fish from mouth to tail and placed them over a smokeless pit fire. “Ever hear the legend of Johnny Appleseed,  barefoot wanderer of the frontier?”  Seeing the confusion on Andrey’s face, he amended. “Old Earth legends not worth much up here then.  I guess I wanted to get out here and see what’s been done in the ‘tats.’”

“I meant in the woods. No one else seems to come out here?”

“This is where you see how nature’s been twisted by these places.” Dropping one of the fish across a folding plate, Harrogate handed it to Andrey. “I’m heading in now to get some supplies though. What’s up ahead? Where you trailed from?”

“Not much.” Though Andrey tried to say little, Harrogate was at ease in that dark space between genial host and seasoned interrogator. By the end of the meal, Andrey had failed to deflect the older man’s interest, and he felt as though he had said more than was wise.

“I have scoutin’ to do,” Harrogate said. “The drones will track this way again soon. You stay here. Get some rest.  I’ll be back in a few hours. If you have to take off, you head spinward and stay close to the trees. Yeah, it’s a good plan. It’s Earth for the likes of you.”

###

Andrey awoke late in the afternoon with Harrogate’s refuge crumbling around him. Bobik’s barking brought him to, and though disoriented, he recognized sunlight and the smell of a forest breeze. There was no need to use the covering hatch, as the wall at his back had largely dissolved.

Bobik had already been outside, unwilling to follow Andrey into the shelter for a second time.

Andrey poured a little water from one of his bottles over his head and neck, bringing himself back to life. Harrogate, he soon discovered, was nowhere to be found, but in his pack Andrey found the scrap of evernote on which the ghillie-suited man had drawn him a map. An appended note warned him to keep moving spinward but to keep axial forward (toward the sun), avoiding the willows near the stream. The drones were hunting that area.

Half the supplies in Andrey’s pack were gone, and he didn’t know what to make of the situation, but circumstances seemed to leave only one course: it was time to keep moving.

“I guess he took his nano-bots with him,” Andrey explained to Bobik as he watched the shelter crumble, returning to the detritus from which it had been built.

They started out at a good pace, keeping watch for drones, but Bobik kept sidling their course anti-spinward and aft-axial.  Andrey would encourage him uphill, only to have to circle downward as the Labby moved into hollows that would take them back toward the stream.

“No!” Andrey commanded. “We’re not following him. He said to stay away from there. The drones will catch us.” Bobik paid little heed.

But soon Andrey saw the glitter. It was behind them, low in the valley along a stretch of stream shaded by a copse of willows. At first, he thought he was seeing sunlight on water, but the great, shadowed turnings of the habitat’s solar collectors made that impossible.

For Andrey, the world seemed to pause, a dizziness taking hold as though they had descended the hill too quickly and Coriolis forces had unbalanced him, but this was different.

“It’s happening again,” Andrey said, but only Bobik was there to hear him.

###

It was like walking through a nightmare. He had seen tiny, reflective sparks lurking in the roots of trees and among the rotting leaves and duff before. On O’Neill Prime. It was when the eco-loop became unbalanced, the air dried, and methane and CO2 spiked. He instinctively reached for his bag, but he had brought no breather.

Andrey swallowed his panic. If it was just starting, there was nothing to panic about. Except that Bobik was moving into the danger, carefully weaving between the infected areas, nose to the ground. The little, sporadic glints in the dark were only the first bloom. Once the trees started to die, there would be no seeing it.

“Bobik, get out of there!” Andrey’s own voice sounded shrill to his ears. Ahead of him, his dog sniffed, barked, and took a path to the left, still in the wrong direction.

Soon enough they came upon a bright bloom, filling a depression between ridges, and though Andrey screamed at the top of his lungs, heedless of attracting any nearby drones, Bobik continued to wind through what paths he could, stepping carefully now as though moving through a field of both visible and invisible mines.

Andrey stopped only long enough to push down his fear, then he followed. It was the infection, and something was balled up near the center of the mass.

At about four meters it was impossible to approach any further. Agitated beyond control, Bobik danced back and forth, alternating whines and barks, yet unwilling to move into the thick of it.

“No!  No!” Andrey screamed once he pieced it together. The blue coveralls, the white boots. He ran forward, but Bobik blocked him and they tumbled together into the undergrowth. The smell of musty, volatile decay filled his nostrils, as did whiff of the iron sweet smell of blood. As he got to his knees, he could see the body of his father was thick with the glittering infection, his body motionless, a wide cut across his throat.

Not drones, but Harrogate’s handiwork was the reason the ghillie man had steered Andre clear of the willows. What his gut had told him about the Earther being dangerous was all too true.

“Why?” Andrey asked helplessly as tears poured down his cheeks,  enough to clear lines through the trail dust and wash away beads of sweat. But he knew the answers. His mind just didn’t want to pull the lines together.  Not at first. The nano-machines that could eat living matter; they were under Harrogate’s control. They were like seeds he spread as he traveled. How had he described himself? “Johnny Appleseed?”

The body of the cat, found up near the ports. His father’s corpse. Who knows how many others or where they might be. Animal flesh gave these molecular machines the fuel to reproduce, the seed starting preparation they needed to take root. Now the nano-bloom would have the foothold it needed to spread to the trees.

###

Bobik was whining. Andrey felt the Labby’s paws push excitedly against him. He recognized the barks as if they were blows against his ears. Hot, canine breath poured into his nostrils. In the end, it took Bobik’s snapping teeth and strong jaws to pull him back from the pool of glitter before him.

As Andrey rose to his feet, he could see they were all but surrounded by the circling bloom of nanites. He didn’t know if they would attack living flesh. There were no records of infected humans on O’Neill Prime, but this was no time to take the chance.

He followed Bobik as the Labby sniffed the deck and wove through root and fern away from the murder scene. Soon his canine became a swift streak through the undergrowth and Andre followed as best he could. He ran until he could no longer breathe, and when the boy fell Bobik returned to lick his face and stay close.

When Andrey rose to run again, the tabbing, cramping pain in his side returned quickly and fought against it with every step. Bobik soon found a clearing and Andre broke out into the open. Once there, it was a different struggle, fighting the muddle of thoughts overwhelmed by his grief and rage. Which way had Harrogate gone? How could he get back to the Comellas?

He continued on, his thoughts outpacing his feet. Go to Earth? Never! It had murdered his father, destroyed his home. Now it was trying to bring Xenia down. It suddenly occurred to Andrey that if he hadn’t told Harrogate he was Earth bound, he and Bobik would be feeding the bloom too.

“Dad was out here,” he told Bobik, saying the words to keep himself sane. “Looking for us! He really was.”

Hours later, with twilight upon them, the dryness in Andre’s mouth and throat had become uncomfortable. Swallowing was difficult and his lips had gone dry and cracked, his pack lost far behind them.

When the low sun glinted on metal near the trees, Andrey swung his arms wide. It might be Harrogate slowly turning his knife in anticipation. It might be a drone. He had to hope.

When Bobik ran toward the reflection, barking loudly, Andrey felt a chill run his spine.

“Here!” he screamed, arms waving, throat burning. “Over here!”

###

“You could have kept going,” said a familiar voice. “You almost got yourself killed.”

Through the blur of returning vision and the crushing pain above his eyes, Andrey recognized the voice of Officer Harper.

“What happened?”  Andrey croaked. He felt a touch of water on his lips. The bed beneath him. Heard nearby movement and a sensor beep. Was he in a hospital? Lines brushed his arm; his right hand was numb.

“I’ve told you twice already. Maybe this is the charm, eh? You fought a madman, you and Bobik. You’d both be dead if it weren’t for the drones. They had Harrogate circling back, which is why you caught him. Emergency Response was on the scene in minutes.”

“My dad?” Andrey asked. His voice Bobik?”

Harper sighed, putting his hand on Andrey’s shoulder. “We’ve recovered your father’s body. Just waiting for you to be in shape for the Remembrance.  You’ll be back with the Comella’s when you’re stronger. If that’s OK.”

Andrey nodded weakly.

“You’re scheduled for hand and finger restoration.  Bobik is getting a new lab grown eye and lung.  We’ve called on veterinarians from Habitat Agape.  There’s a pet culture there.”

“How?” Andrey asked. “Why?”

“How… why?” Harper repeated slowly, bending closer. Andrey could see the officer’s brow tense.

“You’re not taking Bobik away?”

“No,” Harper assured him, then “God, no! You and Bobik will always have a place here. “I’ve met you, you see. They wanted a face you might recognize.  To be at your side. Officially, I mean. Someone has to keep people at arm’s length. Otherwise you’d be mobbed in this room, trying to rest.”

“From the Channels?”

“Oh, no,” Harper laughed. “From your public, Andrey. The media. Well-wishers. Apprenticeships. System wide sponsorships. We can’t even get the Comellas through the crowds just yet. You and Bobik uncovered a conspiracy against Xenia. Against all the Habitats. You’re heroes. You’ve even revived the old values. There’s not a citizen from Prime needs a friend or a free drink anywhere in the system today, thanks to you. There’s even talk of a charitable consortium to rebuild O’Neill Prime!”

A smile, or at least a part of one, bloomed on Andrey’s lips. The rest of him was still too numb to appreciate the news. What he was hearing wasn’t possible. Not for one person. Not for a boy whose only goal had been to save his dog. He couldn’t even remember the end of it.

Once more he felt Harper’s hand firmly on his shoulder.

“Andrey, how can we ever repay you?”

END