Puppets of Time — an excerpt

PROLOGUE

HER MOTHER TOLD her, “You must pick your own horse. Or sometimes it will pick you.” Claire never forgot and drilled it into her own daughter when the time came.

It was a funny saying. Horses were in zoos. At sixteen, Claire hadn’t even touched one, much less ridden. Yet there was a romantic charm about it. Then the day arrived, and she finally had to choose her own. Of sorts. Well, a ship. In two years, her freedom and wandering would be over. Her mother was retiring. Two years, and they would tie her down, just as her mother had been, burdened by unceasing obligation. As Claire’s father had told her, with such a sad look in his eyes. Claire never understood. He seemed to know something foreboding but wouldn’t tell her. To his dying day, he never explained.

Her parents made it clear: There was no stopping the future. On her eighteenth birthday, Claire would take over the Trust, as was tradition - as was her destiny. Even at the top of the pyramid, they reminded her that they, too, had obligations beyond their control.

But they wouldn’t give up their fabulous ship. Claire had to choose one.

Claire scanned the dizzying inventories of too many shipyards. Shiny, brand-new, fantastic spaceships. All large enough to carry hundreds of people. But they were boring. Nothing caught her fancy. Too big, too pretentious. And then, a side lot of abandoned spaceships. Damaged. Disabled. Obsolete. Castoffs, hand-me-downs, rust-buckets. The detritus of space.

The mighty fleet ships were of no interest to her. Claire was ready to give up and let a dealer choose something. She took one last peek on a fanciful lark. Claire waved into the salvage catalog. She left-swiped through each spaceship, absentminded. What fate brought these relics to their desolate end? Her curiosity grew as she scanned the derelicts. What adventures had they seen? What memories were sleeping in their AI cores?

A heart-stopping gut reaction stopped her cold. Claire shivered and peered over her shoulder, but no one was there. Unknowable recognition leaped out. She zoomed and rotated and peeled away virtual layers. She inspected every aspect of one unusual, petite ship.

The hull was especially crusty. Pockmarks obscured the skin, indelible history. Flights through interstellar dust and debris too fast, too many times, for too many years. Indecipherable markings, remnants of worn-away paint. Quite different, unlike any spaceship Claire had ever seen. No pristine mirrored skin. It gave her an idea, and a mischievous grin appeared. It was the worst thing that her mother could have expected.

Or so Claire thought.

Here she sat six months later. It had taken thousands and thousands of hours in a dedicated spacedock. Claire had no idea what a difference time and money could make. It left her speechless when her mother embraced her choice and manipulated corporate priorities to make it happen.

The ship’s bones were exceptional. Oddly, no one could track down its origin or the designers. The yardmaster claimed they couldn’t determine who built the ship, when, where, or how it ended up in salvage. But the guts, structure, nav, sensors, and engine needed almost nothing. New upholstery, polish the brass, replace the portal glass, and add a fresh pod in the bay. The bulk of the labor was external. Reskin the forward sections, where the sandblasting was worst. The rest of the surfaces were hand-ground and refinished. To one end, an odd purpose Claire explained to her mother. A perfect canvas. Her mother had furrowed her brow and then firmly nodded approval.

Claire dug into the stories her mother had told her. Together, they commissioned a wrap-around mural. The spacedock painted an epic masterpiece, covering the entire hull, telling the story and struggles of their ancestors.

The spaceship was tiny in comparison to the fleet ship her mother used. But its simple elegance surpassed every spaceship in operation. No dangling wire bundles and no raw steel girders. No hissing pipes, sparking connections, dripping fluids, and dark passageways. Nor hundreds of staterooms. No scores of crew stations. There were three flight seats in the forward compartment - the pilot and two passengers. Claire restored them with the most beautiful authentic leather, a difficult feat. The brass had been spit-polished. The myriad displays and controls were restored to crystal clarity.

The AI core was an anomaly. Decommissioned ships got their cores wiped. But there was no record and no explanation. The shipyard had refilled the core, overlaying the latest persona fabric during the retrofit. Claire did not let them ignite it. This was her chance. She studied mesotronics and non-organic brains for months with one objective. She would be the one to imprint her ship’s personality. Now, the time had come; it was her privilege to bring it online. The first time she had broken the seal on a new mind. It was a very emotional, private event for Claire. She knew personas imprinted when awakened. To her mother’s dismay, she took the ship out of the dock solo and jetted out to higher orbit for seclusion.

Claire rechecked all systems green and held her breath. She wondered if it could sing. She nervously initiated the activation sequence and waited.

CHAPTER ONE

Calls

EVERYONE ANSWERS INCOMING calls. Like a reflex, an autonomic function. Hearts beat. Lungs breathe. Eyes blink. Throats swallow. Regardless of what they were doing, who they were with, or what time it was, people drop everything, look at their wrists, open their palms, pull their devices out of their pockets, and focus their attention on that annoying bleep, jingle, bell, or vibration.

Claire was no different. Never mind that an entourage of minders kept the world at bay. Never underfoot, unseen, actually human. Always diligent, ensuring she was where she was needed, when she was needed, with whom she was needed - protective of her privacy, sanity, and security.

But Claire still insisted on answering her own calls.

The 1st Class Lounge was empty except for Claire and her family. By design. Only one steward attended to her, Martin, and Keira. Privacy and security. Not to advertise her specific travel plans and destination.

The buffet was piping hot but untouched. The exquisite aromas wafted across the room. Soft melodies floated in the background. The robo-bartender polished wine glasses, clinking the crystal as it rehung them in the sparkling racks. Air-vids wrapped the walls of the lounge, vistas of hundreds of planets on display.

There was always one more call, even when she was out of the office. Sure, it was a vacation, and Claire’s staff knew she was taking time away. The corporation would run itself while she was gone, and Claire relished the prospect of downtime. She’d joked with her deputy that the company would do better without her. She simply wanted to fade into a gaggle of tourists, ride a few rides with Keira, drink too much wine with Martin, and even doze in a luxurious bubble bath. Definitely could use that long soak.

---

Nearby, a stiff-lipped steward opened the hatch and patiently waited for them to climb down. His professionally cleaned and creased uniform had cost him a bundle for this special day. He’d sent it out for extra care, knowing that this was his one and only time; not many of the staff were allowed solo with the Elsworths. This time might not ever come again. He’d never been this close. They didn’t seem that unapproachable, not at all what he had been told.

The husband was huge, just like the air-vids, hardly marred by the years since he’d played ball. He was a hulk you wouldn’t push far. Alert, eyes watching like a guard dog, taking in every detail, and missing nothing. Worldliness, muscles, perfection, like a museum statue.

Their daughter was tiny in comparison. But what a bundle of energy! He watched her and bit his lip. A miniature of her mother. Full of life. Bouncing hither and yon. Started to poke her finger in the chafing dish of dessert but caught his eye and stopped mid-reach. She turned on a dime and spun across the glass floor, eyes wide. Plastered on the wall, staring beyond at the robots servicing jump ships. He couldn’t keep up. Tracking her was like spying on shooting stars. He’d glance ahead where he anticipated she’d move, and voila, she’d swerve like a tight end and appear elsewhere. It must be her father’s genes. Ballplayer.

The steward watched her warily. He wasn’t comfortable with kids, and he wasn’t happy that this one was all over the lounge, grabbing treats and stuffing them in her floppy pants, standing spread-eagled on the glass floor by each of the airlocks, gawking at the empty docking berths. Then she’d flip her long black hair over her shoulder and race over to hang on her father. Having a great time.

The mother was enigmatic. Distracted. The steward watched her carefully, wondering at the balance between the three. He knew she was the boss. Even if he hadn’t known, it was unmistakable. She exuded authority and leadership. Her diminutive form contrasted with her public persona. Tough as nails. Like her daughter, she had silky, long black hair, but unlike her daughter, hers was expensively coiffed, braided tight in a bun atop her head. Both had unusual, piercing blue eyes, but hers lasered into the future. Everything about Claire Elsworth spelled: don’t mess with me.

Well, almost everything, the steward observed. Today, she capitalized on her femininity, sporting a high-fashion sundress. Hand-stitched lace and silk, embroidered with intricate flowers covering all the private places. If he was so inclined, he might have admired how it clung to her yet flowed like a wisp, drifting in the air with her slightest moves. He couldn’t even imagine what it cost; one of a kind, crafted as art to barely cover her perfection, worth more than his annual salary. They probably grew silkworms just for that bolt of cloth. She was, at minimum, intimidating. At worst — career-ending. He knew he had to get them on the ship and outbound, but he also knew he had to be delicate. He’d be shafted and expelled if the Elsworths reported badly on him.

---

Claire ignored the steward. She expected it; she tended to overwhelm most newcomers. She pivoted, marveling at the beauty of the gate station. Traveling the gates was incredible, and Claire never took it for granted. She thrilled seeing the galaxy of stars - utter starkness and emptiness. Claire never ceased exploring, dragging Martin and Keira from system to system. Like Keira but a little less bouncy. What could she expect from a tween? She smiled as she spied her daughter flitting across the room. The glass floor beneath their feet revealed the cavernous bay hosting hundreds of jump ships. Comfort spread through Claire as she admired WALLABY DARN, snuggled close, attached to the airlock.

Among the fleets of jump ships in the hangar bay, Wallaby stood out, not for her size, but for the unique tribal art adorning her hull. Claire’s pride and joy. There was no question when WALLABY DARN docked at a gate station. She was the prestige ship of the Columbia Valley Tribes and the flagship for the Communication Via Transit corporation’s chairwoman.

Claire looked to the steward as he nodded at the safety vid. It had just finished, hanging in the air above the hatch. Keira had noticed, too. She tugged at her father’s sleeve to get going, but Claire raised her hand and motioned them to pause.

Always one more call.

Claire shook her head silently, staring right through her husband and daughter. Light years away in her head. Deeply engrossed in another crucial issue.

Agitated, Claire said to thin air, “I know you told me it would happen sooner rather than later. But today?”

---

Martin began to shuffle uncomfortably, sensing trouble was afoot. Not surprising, just another distraction. He knew she couldn’t lead the galaxy’s largest profitable corporation without always having to deal with just one more thing. Even when she was officially away or at least trying to escape. It wasn’t the first time. Martin found it best not to look in her direction. Instead, he watched other jump ships through the glass floor, studiously engaged as if he’d never seen robot repair droids servicing the docked vessels.

Keira was not so subtle. At twelve, there was little room for patience. She rolled her eyes, put her hands on her hips, and didn’t speak, but huffed as only a petulant child can. It wasn’t mean-spirited or even rude. Keira adored her mother and her father. They pushed her, trained her, and spoiled her at every step. Even as a youngster, she knew how lucky she was. If it was imaginable, and she asked for it, they’d found a way to make it happen. They’d let her cross-train at nine, camping, riding horses, and shooting old-style guns. At ten, they’d trained her to fly WALLABY DARN. But last year, exceeding their expectations, she got accepted into the outback challenge and was on the winning team for the class walkabout. But today, this was vacation time, and Keira felt she had to let her mom know enough was enough.

Claire may have missed the cues from Martin and Keira or perhaps chose to ignore them politely. Instead of reacting, she waved the steward over and said, “I’ve got to make this call. Send them ahead; I’ll catch the next commercial jump ship.” She looked at Martin and added, “I am really sorry. You know I would never do this.”

Keira stamped her foot theatrically. “Mom, can’t you call from Disney World?” Martin worked hard not to notice.

Claire offered no solace. “Keira, you know better. It’s what we do for a living. You can’t talk real-time through a gate.”

Keira pooched her lower lip, a false pout. “I know. Is it okay if we go straight to the beach? Take that ‘killer my jar go’ ride you talked about?” She knew she could do nothing to sway her mother, so she might as well move to the next best thing.

“Yes, you should! It’s a mountain. Or a ride that seems like it.”

Martin saw the fleeting dismay cross Claire’s brow and stepped in to relieve her conflicted conscience. He knew she had to fulfill her obligations, whatever the cost. “How about we take a side trip and a couple of rides and meet you at the hotel later?”

Keira grabbed that plan and teased her father, “I’ll show Dad how to hold on tight.”

“All right. Don’t have too much fun!”

---

Claire pulled Martin and Keira close and squeezed them tightly, wedged in between her giant and her short-stuff. From the outside, serene and controlled, but inwardly, Claire had to bite down on her tongue to stave off a shiver, a foreboding she figured was the angst of parting. It wasn’t enough to tell them that she loved them. That she did this all for them. That Claire would do anything for them. Her life was all that she could ever have hoped. She had the perfect husband. Sports hero, business wizard, and negotiator. She nuzzled closer and breathed deeply, treasuring his freshly showered aroma. A fleeting memory flashed past, their intimate adventuring a few hours before. A rosy flush rushed up to her collarbone. She hoped no one noticed. He sure was a hunk she delighted getting sweaty with.

And Keira. She couldn’t have wished for a better daughter. Claire’s mother probably never adored Claire as much as Claire adored Keira. But maybe all parents felt the same.

Keira. She would change the world! Brilliant student, years ahead of her peers, disciplined in self-study, paralleling Claire as an avid outdoors adventurer. Oh, she had her moments, typical tween at best and at worst, stubborn for sure. But hadn’t Claire been wretched for her mother? Just deserts or such?

Claire clutched them firmly and kissed Keira lightly on top of her head, Keira’s face buried against her chest. She leaned away from the embrace and looked deeply into Martin’s grey eyes. Slightly sad, suppressing just a slight disappointment once again. It tormented Claire to let them leave like this.

---

The steward was doing his best to control his impatience. He urged them along, saying, “Two minutes. I really need to get them boarded and sealed up!” He swooshed the air with open palms, beckoning them to the ladder.

Claire smiled at her family enthusiastically and said, “Try the E-Ticket! You will love it! Please don’t wait for me; do it. It makes your stomach drop out - just like falling out of the sky!”

Martin wanted to let her off the hook. “Claire, don’t stress! We’ll be fine! Do your call, take the next jump ship, and relax at the hotel. We’ll bring you a souvenir from the beach.”

He could tell it helped, and he sensed Claire relax slightly before her shields raised in executive mode, preparing for her call.

Martin detached and peeled Keira away, untangling her octopus embrace from her mother. In an instant, she reset. It always amazed Martin how resilient his daughter was, unflappable. Pout forgotten, smile re-engaged, Keira blew her mother a kiss, pirouetted, and bounced down the ladder into the airlock, barely touching, dropping three rungs at a time.

Martin grinned at his daughter’s abrupt mood shift and mirrored her departure, throwing Claire a kiss over his shoulder as he descended.

The steward tapped his wrist and initiated the departure sequence. The ladder withdrew, and the hatch hissed into place. Claire watched through the floor, listening to the metallic clanking of the clamps retracting, the umbilicals disengaging. WALLABY DARN dropped away, silently accelerating out through the station’s vast maw towards a jump gate glistening in the distance. Claire waited quietly, transfixed, until the ship vanished in the flash of the gate.

“Okay, after my call, when and where’s the next jump ship?”

No longer impatient now that his immediate task was complete, the steward became almost reverential, bordering on obsequious.

“Ma’am, I will be privileged to wait and take you over.” Tentatively, hoping he didn’t betray his more than objective fascination with Martin, he added, “I’m a real fan of your husband. I was pretty young, but I remember when he won his first Gold. He was truly inspiring! And how many did he get in the Mars Olympics?”

Claire didn’t notice the hidden desire and answered innocently, “Seven. He was magnificent, wasn’t he, isn’t he?” Claire fell into a pleasant reverie for the briefest moment, musing out loud, “I was there too. We were just dating, and I sat at the inner marker. He said I was his good luck charm.”

She caught herself wistfully staring out into the distance, following them through the empty gate. Time to go, she reminded herself. People were waiting for her. Claire spun on her heels with a flourish and whisked out of the lounge.