Into the Rift

By C R Simper

Onnie Nayir didn’t rescue the transport passengers without help, but to keep his secrets, Darragh Conally is perfectly content to let her have all the glory. The rescue story is changing the minds of Galladirans about the Earther Alliance and getting them to rally behind the captain of Rift Watcher Station, so Onnie goes along.
Not every Galladiran is impressed. When the cold hand of vengeance reaches out against her family, Onnie can do nothing to stop it, and Darragh, who could have easily saved the day, disappears at the wrong time and misses his chance.
Onnie is determined to insert herself into the rescue plan, but that means teaming up with a troubled Galladiran teen, defying her dad’s order to return to Earth, and somehow forgiving Darragh’s failure, all to follow her stolen little brother into The Rift.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Electric Scroll
• Release date: Dec 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781940311517

C R Simper

C R Simper was raised seven miles north of a small town, with two sisters, thirteen dogs, and an open sky painted every night with billions of stars. This unharried childhood allowed time for much reading, which led into a desire to create stories of worlds beyond her own. She is a member of the American Night Writer's Association. She has two published short stories in the Steampunk genre. Besides writing, she has a passion for genealogy, volleyball, and bargain hunting.

Book preview

Into the Rift

C R Simper

Copyright 2016, Chanda Simper

Smashwords Edition

Cover copyright 2018, Mariah Simper, used by permission.

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by The Electric Scroll. Cover Image Copywrite 2016 Mariah Simper, used by permission. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the publisher. For information contact The Electric Scroll, 745 N. Gilbert Rd. Ste 124 PMB 197, Gilbert, Arizona, 85234.

The characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and entirely in the imagination of the reader.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Rift Watcher: Into the Rift

About the Author

Dedication

Books by C R Simper

Connect with me online

One

Go fish!

Ensign Fwee's high-pitched voice trembled with the excitement of a small child with a new toy.

I couldn't help but smile. Of all the exotic things my little group of friends could have been doing here on Rift Watcher Space Station at the edge of the organized galaxy, we were sitting around my kitchen table playing a children's card game.

The deck of cards emitted sounds only Fwee's extra-large, super-sensitive ears could hear when he touched the upper corner. So, for the first time the fluffy, eyeless alien could participate in our game, rather than just listen in.

Bwudil, do you have any twos? I asked as the turn passed to me.

Ensign Bwudil perused his hand. One of his five black eyes focused on reading the cards and the other four took in everything else. It made me wonder if Bwudil saw everything as a whole or if it was more like having his own set of security cameras showing five shots from different angles.

Sorry, Onnie. Go fish. Bwudil smiled in his own way, with his long narrow lips stretched in a line, not curved upward.

Bwudil, I swear you have at least two twos, Emory Rhuick snapped. The fiery red-headed Galladiran teen—my brother's new best friend here on Rift Watcher—had a tendency to jump on anyone who told him to go fish, but this marked the first time he'd jumped on someone for telling me to.

Exactly two of Bwudil's eyes narrowed at Emory's accusatory tone. I do not cheat, Mr. Rhuick. It is your turn.

Fine, Emory conceded. Jay, do you have any fours?

Go fish, my younger brother Jayesh replied without looking at his hand. With how long this game had gone on he could have easily memorized it.

Seriously? Emory gasped with an explosion of drama. Where is Dr. Conally when you need him?

It has been a long game without him here to win it, Bwudil observed.

Fwee's laughter rang like tiny chimes in a breeze. Too true.

"Where is Dr. Conally?" Jay asked. He looked at me like I ought to know everything there was to know about my friend Darragh Conally – master of card counting and designer of Fwee's special new deck – even though we'd only known each other now for a total of five weeks.

Busy working on his list, no doubt, I replied unhappily.

What list? Jay asked.

Emory made a face. My mom is so mad at Dr. Conally over that list.

What list? Jay repeated, louder this time.

Darragh is asking every single sentient entity on Rift Watcher, Galladiran or not, to clarify their end-of-life desires, I replied. So he'll have it on record.

Why? Jay looked at me with wide-eyed alarm.

Because Galladirans have different beliefs about death than Earthers do and Darragh wants us to respect them and them to respect us.

And to not get himself into trouble, Emory added, his tone spiteful.

I ignored it. Darragh told Dad the list had to happen if he was going to stay on Rift Watcher any longer, and Dad agreed.

Jay turned his gaze to Emory. Why is your mom mad about it?

Emory glanced up at the ceiling a moment like he might be trying to remember his mother's exact words. She said: 'Dr. Conally's list will only make it harder for Captain Nayir to negotiate the agreement for Galladir to enter the Interplanetary Alliance.'

He mimicked his mother's voice badly, but Lieutenant Eris Rhuick had made a valid point. My dad, as the face of the Earther Alliance in this corner of the Universe, had been on Galladir for the past three days already negotiating the agreement.

Oh, great. I growled. "If Dad has to stay on Galladir much longer I'm going to be mad."

There's a first, Emory muttered loud enough for me to hear.

What was that? I couldn't ignore the obvious jab this time.

Emory glowered at me for challenging him. Nothing.

The only reason your dad got invited back to Galladir is because of you, Ms. Onnie. Bwudil must have thought I'd needed encouragement. You saved an entire transport full of Galladiran citizens and it changed the way many Galladirans look at Earthers.

"Me and Darragh saved them, you mean," I reminded him.

Bwudil frowned. Dr. Conally insists you deserve all the credit.

I know he does. I couldn't exactly stare down someone with three more eyes than me, but it was worth a try. "Because he's ly-ing."

Yeah, well, according to my mom, the less your dad mentions Dr. Conally to the Galladirans right now the better, Emory added.

I wouldn't have been nearly as annoyed with how much Lieutenant Rhuick shared with Emory about the goings on of the station if only my dad had told me first. Dad and I had gotten a lot closer during my visit to Rift Watcher, but there were still things he didn't tell me.

Jay, it's your turn, I prompted, ready to move on.

Oh, yeah, right. Jay looked over his cards with a knowing grin. Onnie, do you have any twos?

Ugh. I groaned and handed him my two twos, with which he happily made a set and put it aside.

Jay snickered at the glare Emory gave him. Emory, do you have any… he had to stop and yawn. Threes?

Go fish, Emory spat.

Last hand, I announced, on finding my brother's yawn contagious. I'm finally scheduled to hang out with the AI engineers tomorrow. I'd like to get some sleep.

Sounds fun, Emory said. What do you get to do?

I dunno. I shrugged. Watch them watching over the AI systems, I guess.

Never mind. Emory grimaced.

Bwudil, do you have any fives? Fwee finally took his turn. One of us should have clued him in sooner.

Yes, I do. Bwudil handed them over and we waited for Fwee to find his fives and put the set together.

This is so much fun! Fwee laughed again. I feel so…yellow.

Emory snorted. "What does that mean?"

Yellow feels happy, doesn't it? Fwee replied, confused.

Do colors have feelings? Jay asked.

Jay, I warned him for being rude. Ensign Fwee doesn't know what colors look like, so Darragh explained them to him by how they might feel.

Oh, huh, Emory replied with a thrust of his chin, the Galladiran equivalent of eye-rolling perhaps. Sounds like just the sort of thing Dr. Conally would come up with.

I narrowed my eyes at him, and he scowled back, but I couldn't exactly ask Emory in front of our friends why he didn't like Darragh all of a sudden.

Emory, do you have any nines? Fwee interrupted, since his turn hadn't ended.

Go Fish! Emory cackled.

Fwee didn't act at all disappointed. He patted the table in front of him until he located the pile and chose a card.

So, if colors do have feelings, red's got to be anger, right? Jay asked.

And black, hopelessness, Bwudil added quietly.

I don't remember him getting so detailed, I said.

We talked about it briefly after our last staff meeting, Fwee replied. Dr. Conally is still trying to define some colors for me.

He is truly a poet. Bwudil mused.

But he had to hurry away, so we didn't talk long. Fwee sighed. Something food related had come up.

I choked on a laugh. "Food related?"

Yes, something about developing his grain, Bwudil shrugged.

Must be a Cairistionan thing, I said, though I knew perfectly well Darragh wasn't Cairistionan. For my friend's sake I'd had become a pretty good liar lately.

He did seem unfocused during the meeting, Bwudil added.

Was he worried about something? I asked.

I wouldn't say worried. Bwudil blinked thoughtfully as he looked at me and reordered his cards at the same time. More like uncertain.

I wonder what color uncertainty would be, Fwee mused.

No idea, I replied in all honesty. It's your turn Bwudil.

Fwee, do you have any sixes? Bwudil asked.

We waited for Fwee to check each card. No one minded but Emory, who bobbed his head several times, but didn't make any audible indication of impatience.

Go fish. Fwee chortled.

The ringing of the door chime pulled my focus out of the game. Enter. I called, so the AI would know to open the door.

Hey, Dr. Darragh! Bwudil called out first at the sight of our guest.

You made it! Fwee exclaimed, and then waved his tiny hand, seeking.

Yes. Sorry it took so long. Darragh momentarily gripped Fwee's reaching hand and lightly patted his fluffy head.

Emory glared at him. Where were you? We needed you here to call out the cheaters.

Cheating at 'Go Fish'? Darragh scoffed and reached to the center of the table to grab a handful of the caramel popcorn I had set out for us to snack on. Maybe it's time we switched it up to something a little more vindictive like 'Rummy' or 'Hearts'.

No, please. Let me get used to 'Go Fish' first, Fwee pled. This is so much fun, Dr. Darragh. Thank you for making it possible.

Happy to assist, Ensign, Darragh's sincerity spoke volumes about his kind nature. My friend always seemed happiest when helping someone else, even, at times, to his own detriment. I'd never met anyone quite like him.

He smiled with just a hint of chagrin as he caught me admiring, but I couldn't smile back. The gray shirt he wore drained his face of all color – at least I hoped his paleness stemmed from a simple fashion color-wheel misstep.

You know a card game called 'Hearts'? Emory asked, interrupting Darragh's moment.

I suppose a ruthless Earther card game bearing the same name as the center of Galladiran religious culture might be considered offensive. Darragh glanced at Emory warily, then reached down onto the table to pick up the entire bowl of caramel popcorn. Your mom hates me enough as it is, so please forget I mentioned it.

I wouldn't say she hates you. Emory's tone sounded smug. She just says you're too immature and impulsive to be a good role model.

A wise woman. Darragh took a step away and with little effort, hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter, all while perfectly balancing the bowl of popcorn. Don't let me interrupt the game.

We can deal you in, I offered.

No, but thank you. Darragh nodded. I just stopped by to see how the new cards worked out. I'm happy to watch.

Dr. Darragh, what color would uncertainty be? Bwudil remembered to ask.

White, Darragh replied too quickly. Or maybe gray. I don't know. Good question.

You're uncertain about the color of uncertainty? Fwee teased.

I'm afraid so, Darragh laughed, mildly amused.

It's nothing to be scared of, is it? Emory asked.

Darragh blinked, not catching it.

No, Emory. I said. 'I'm afraid so' is an Earther expression.

Yes, sorry. Darragh paused in his obvious quest to devour the entire contents of the popcorn bowl. I meant to say I don't have an answer. I'll have to think about it and get back to you.

Oh, understood, Bwudil replied.

I pursed my lips and Darragh dodged my gaze. Something had to be off if he couldn't think through a problem on the spot. But it didn't feel right to call him out in front of the rest of my friends.

Jay, do you have any eights? I asked instead.

Nope, my brother snickered. Go Fish.

Two

Emory, Fwee, and Bwudil left as soon as the game ended, but Jay lingered.

Go to bed, I whispered.

Why? He drew back his chin and glared at me. Dad's on Galladir and you're not my boss.

Uh, first of all: Yes, I am. And you can stay up all night for all I care, just go do it in your bedroom. I caught him by the elbow and walked him over to the stairs. I tried to keep my voice down. I need to find out what's up with Darragh, and he won't talk to me in front of you.

Jay looked from me over to Darragh, still sitting on the kitchen counter, shoveling in the caramel popcorn like maybe he hadn't eaten all day. I guess he does kind of look like he walked through a wind-tunnel. Good luck.

I silently thanked my brother as he turned and hurried up the stairs.

A wind-tunnel; really? Darragh asked as proof I hadn't taken my brother far enough away. He ran his fingers through his golden curls to tame them.

Yeah, and if you overheard Jay–

I had a lot to do today, nonstop. Darragh laughed weakly. Mostly, though, I'll have to admit, I'm starving.

Ah, I said. Your robot cook is out of order?

My list of ingredients is lacking as always. He swirled the un-popped kernels around at the bottom of the bowl. But your caramel popcorn was more than sufficient, thank you.

Oh, don't give me that. I snatched the bowl from him and set it aside, then opened the refrigerator and pulled out the first thing I saw. Here. Purple salad. Eat it.

Are you…? His desire to question didn't get past my raised eyebrow. Thanks. He held the salad bowl firmly in his left hand and crossed himself with the right.

It drew my attention in more ways than one.

What's with the new ring? I caught his right hand a moment to inspect the silver and black ring. It had been engraved with words, only in another language. Is it Galladiran?

No. It's Hatonian technology.

A gift from your not-so-secret admirer? I scoffed. I could believe Ms. Madessa to be so bold, but I couldn't believe Darragh would wear her gift.

No, from your father, Darragh replied with his icy glare, though it didn't last long. It's a bio-sensor – meant to be more sensitive than the ones in the com-bracelets as well as less likely to be noticed, removed, and/or have its signal blocked.

Why? I let go of his hand so he could resume eating.

Its main purpose is to register and report any sudden physiological responses to pain: increased blood pressure, heart rate, peripheral blood flow, etc….

"No, I meant why as in: why did he give it to you?"

Darragh studied me behind his wrinkled brow. There have been a number of anonymous threats made against me recently.

"Death threats?" I squeaked.

Yes, generally speaking, he replied with a note of chagrin. No big deal.

"Big deal, Darragh. I glared at him. I mean, it must be. You're wearing the ring."

He sighed. I only accepted the ring for your sake, because you're with me often enough to be concerned for your safety if someone tries to take me out.

My conflicted feelings drew out a pained laugh. "Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

Yeah, he admitted. The number two reason.

Number one – you don't want to talk about your past.

He ducked my gaze and took a bite of salad. This is very good, thank you.

You're welcome, I said flatly. Now, how about you repay me for the salad with a story? Maybe the one you still owe me about being from Eden and not Cairistiona.

Darragh used his fork to move around various pieces of the salad. Obviously, he didn't like all Galladiran veggies. I am regretting I ever burdened you with so much information.

You didn't burden me. I huffed, feeling more impatient with his avoidance tactics than usual because of my newly-founded concern for his safety. You dropped enough clues, and I guessed.

Oh, right. His smirk revealed a hint of appreciation. You know, it has been a really long day.

But you've been putting me off for two weeks, I replied, but then realized whining wasn't an attractive strategy and switched to logic. I'm worried you might be obsessing over your list.

Oh, I know I am. Darragh's voice took on a slight tremble. But I have to. You don't know what it feels like to kneel next to someone and not know if you're about to go against everything they believe in just because your value system includes saving their life.

You're right. I don't. Sorry. I brushed his shoulder lightly with my hand. The conversation ended for a moment as I let him eat a few bites of his selected morsels.

Could we maybe try starting out with one small detail about your past? I asked. I got out a cup and filled it with water. Why did you leave Eden?

I would rather not talk about that.

Not even with your best friend? I encouraged and offered him the water.

He accepted it, meeting my gaze with a thoughtful frown. No, not even with him.

Darragh Conally the First, your friend from Cairistiona. I tried not to sound like he'd offended me, though he had. If he still revered his friend who died in the Kyvan attack more than me, there must have been a good reason behind it. "At least I presume he's still from Cairistiona."

Darragh slid off of the kitchen counter and moved to the table. Yes. Some details won't change.

So, what about the whole…? I drew a small cross before I thought about it possibly looking disrespectful. If you're not really Cairistionan, why pretend?

To express gratitude for what I have reminds me not to feel sorry for myself over the things I don't, he replied.

We both sat down, him on a chair and me on the edge of the table.

Darragh the First, as you understandably call him, introduced me to that aspect of his faith and I adopted it in his honor. I find it serves me well.

Did Eden have any sort of religion?

Yes, the religion of Self, Darragh replied with an edge of bitterness in his voice. In case you ever wondered why basic religious tenets such as gratitude appeal to me so, it's because you've never had to live among people whose only religion was making sure they and their children were better than everyone else.

I guess not. I'd met a few people who thought they were better than everyone else, but I couldn't imagine what it would look like in an entire culture. Would you tell me more about Eden itself?

The vegetables were very green. He picked up another purple leaf with his fork.

I took what I could from it. Then, it's like Earth?

In a lot of ways, yes, he replied. Though Edenites relied more heavily on technology.

It could have been an easy lead-in to the question of why Darragh had technology implanted in his hands, though the tech was now hidden again beneath his healed skin. I suppressed the direct question and aimed for it with more subtlety.

More than we do on Earth? Wow.

Darragh nodded. The Earther Alliance is founded on principles of individual autonomy. After years of technological intrusion upon their freedoms, Earthers demanded a step back. He set down his fork. Eden, however, pressed forward with their use of invasive technology until they formed a community connected at all times. Every move detailed, every conversation recorded. Every personality and thought process judged against everyone else's.

Ugh, I would hate it. I shuddered at the thought of so much of my life controlled by a collective community. No wonder you ran away.

That wasn't the reason. He looked away, probably not to study my dad's choice of wall art as deeply as he seemed to be. Because I lived in that world, I didn't understand how invasive it had become until after I left. He rose and set his still mostly-full dish on the counter. I don't appear to be as hungry as I originally thought.

I followed him. I didn't mean to upset you.

No, no, you've misjudged my reaction. I'm fine. I'm just tired. He reached out for my hand and then brought it to his chest. Thank you for the food and the company.

You're welcome. One more quick, stupid question, I said. The way you pull my hand to your chest, is it an Eden thing?

Cairistionan, he replied, and let go. Edenites would greet with palms touching. He raised his left hand in front of me and waited for me to do the same. Other hand, he said as I raised my left hand and instead I lifted my right. We touched palms.

Sort of like a high-five, but low impact, I teased.

Yes.

Does it have something to do with the wiring in your hands? I asked, since he'd practically invited the question this time.

But Darragh's eyes widened as he withdrew his hand. I told you not to ask about my hands.

In front of Commander Murdock and the rescue squad, no, of course I wouldn't. I met Darragh's fearful gaze with an angry eyebrow. But it's only me here, and I'm not going to tell anyone. What happened when your hands touched? Could you exchange information like a couple of linked keypads, or am I imagining things to be way weirder than they really were because you won't tell me?

You're not. He winced as if telling the truth hurt. We could exchange information, thoughts, even feelings.

Do you miss it? I asked.

No, not at all. His anxiety increased, but he kept talking. Sometimes people didn't even bother to speak to each other. But my father preferred verbal communication and taught me the same.

And did your father–

No, please. Darragh brought both hands up as if to shield himself. I don't want to talk about my father. I shouldn't have mentioned him.

It's fine. I knew when I'd cornered him. He'd asked me once to back off when it happened, but he'd also asked me to never stop asking questions. I had plenty of others swirling through my head, hopefully a change of direction might calm him. You can link up with computers too, can't you? It's how you saved the transport.

I didn't– He stepped back abruptly, and I thought I'd lost him, but then he set his jaw. Yes, you're right, of course I can link with most computer systems, which is exactly how I saved the transport. I forget I don't have to lie to you. I'm sorry.

Don't apologize; you're doing great, I encouraged. I mean, unless you need me to stop asking questions.

He drew his arms across his chest and tucked his hands beneath his armpits, then sat down on my table. No, please go ahead.

Are the wires some sort of implant or it is biomechanical?

Biomechanical, I suppose. He didn't look away. It's all just me: my secondary nervous system along with its connections to my own brain and nothing more.

A genetic enhancement, then? I asked.

He tensed, but continued. Perhaps originally, but after being passed down through multiple generations it became a normal part of Edenite design.

That is so awesome.

He laughed. It's kind of a pain in the butt actually. His demeanor brightened as it often did after he'd unburdened himself to me. You'll recall I disconnected the AI in my room. It's because I can get overwhelmed by too much input sometimes.

Oh, I replied, worried a little. Is that what caused your seizure on the transport, too much input?

I don't know for certain. He brought his hands up in front of his face and touched his fingertips together repeatedly, studying the movement as he spoke. It could have been because of having to interact with Galladiran technology and uploading somewhat incompatible data streams into my own memory systems. I haven't wanted to conduct further research and risk a repeat.

Right, no. It pained me to hear that his choice to save sixty Galladiran lives, including mine had hurt him. What you did – what you do – it's incredible.

If I linked up with a computer system on Eden it would be perfectly normal. He pressed his palms together, then looked directly at me, finally. Everyone could interact with any computer – with any other person – with a simple touch. But here, among the Earthers, it makes me a freak.

You're not a freak, Darragh.

A machine, then. Not human. He looked away as his anxiety started to ramp up again. You've said as much to me, more than once.

No, I said, but then thought twice about it. I mean, yeah sure, some of your personality quirks occasionally remind me of robots and computers, but– I narrowed my eyes. You don't want anyone to know you're from Eden because you hate the idea of people thinking you're part machine?

"Well, I am, so they wouldn't be wrong. The moment my Edenite ancestors decided to combine their humanity with cybernetics they crossed the line that redefined who we are – what we are. He flinched. Or rather, what I am, since they're all gone now."

Darragh, I know you're not a machine.

"How do you know?" Darragh gripped the edge of the table and studied my face in earnest, awaiting my response. His desperate need for proof of his own humanity alarmed me, but I had an easy answer.

A machine wouldn't have stepped between me and a weapon he knew might kill him.

If it had been programmed to do so, it most certainly would.