The First Jumper: Little Bear: The First Jumper, #1

The First Jumper

Little Bear

Brian Groover

Taproot Technologies, LLC

Frederick, Maryland

2015

The First Jumper: Little Bear

Published by Taproot Technologies, Frederick, Maryland, U.S.A.

Copyright © 2015 by Brian H. Groover. All rights reserved.

The cover design is copyright © 2015 by Julie Chapman. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For additional permissions contact author@briangroover.com

If in electronic form, this ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. This book is available in trade paper and for all eBook formats at many online retailers. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 9781512022247 (Trade paper edition)

ISBN: 9781310852244 (ePub/mobi/pdf/rtf/lrf/pdb/txt/html editions)

ASIN: B00X2ENLC0 (Amazon Kindle edition)

First Edition: May, 2015

10 9 8 7 6 5 4

for Mary Freeman Rosenblum,

who showed me how

Books by Brian H. Groover:

I Will Love You Forever: Book I of Protector

The Jumper

The First Jumper: Little Bear

1 Gerleesh

Gerleesh awoke slowly, stretching all her limbs, one by one. As she placed her four feet on the floor and rose up out of her sleeping place, she wondered why this day seemed so special. Then it came to her, and she leapt from the sleeping pouch to begin preparations.

Today would be her joining. This day, her life would inextricably be bound to another, and before the disk had set, she would have new life growing within her body.

She looked down at her body, and placed a hand over her pouch. Today, my daughter will be placed in there. She will begin life, and my life will become ...

She began preparing herself in excitement, making sure everything was just right. She absolutely had to look her best. She preened the dark brown fur that covered most of her body carefully. Her colorful facial feathers had to align just so.

As she worked on herself, anxiety began to swallow up the anticipation. In a few moments, she stood before her mirror, trembling. Her fur was shiny, but she could not get her facial feathers right. Then she heard her mother’s voice from outside her living quarters, and she felt the gentle touch of her mother’s mind.

Gerleesh? Are you awake so soon? I was hoping you would sleep longer.

Come in, mother. I need you.

Gerleesh’s mother Ahreesh came into the chamber, as beautiful as Gerleesh remembered her from the day of her own hatching. Her legs were already smooth, her fur sleek. Ahreesh’s facial feathers were of course perfectly done. By that alone, Gerleesh knew that her mother was nervous about the day, too, but no other hint of that came through, in her physical demeanor or in her mind touch.

You look wonderful, Gerleesh.

My feathers aren’t right!

Let me see if I can help ... there! What do you think now?

Gerleesh turned back to the mirror and sighed, then burst into vibrations of agitation.

Ahreesh let her cry a few moments, then put her arms around her. Tell me about it, love.

What if I can’t do it? What if I never hear the songs of our mothers? What if the egg is bad? What if she doesn’t love me?

Ahreesh smiled, slanting her eyes, and said, What do you think the chances would have been that you would have hatched without loving me? Her arms were still comfortingly about her daughter.

Most of Gerleesh’s vibrations calmed, as she said, None, I suppose. But mother, what if I can’t do it?

You forget, love, that I know your spirit, from before your birth. You can do it. I had the same fears on my joining day, wondering if I could love you enough to break free from my body. My mother reassured me just as I am doing now. She will be there today, you know.

I know. I’m looking forward to hearing her songs.

You will, love, you will. Once you join your heart with your egg, you’ll break loose from your body, and then you’ll hear them all, just as you’ve heard me from birth. Once your daughter can hear you and touch you back, you’ll pour so much love into her that you’ll become more than your body.

Not all the vibrations were gone yet. And if the egg is bad?

Ahreesh sighed. You know better than I do the chances of that, from your work, but you know the odds of that are very small, even with the recent flares. G’hosh has given us solemn assurance that her egg has been kept safe and sound, and she has been pouring herself into it, just as you will. The egg will be fine.

Gerleesh was calm, now, but her mother could see she was still not totally happy. Maybe I do know better than you, mother. There have been a lot of bad eggs, this year.

Her mother pulled back in shock. Gerleesh, are you sure?

I am. It hasn’t been in the listings, because no one wants a panic, but a lot of eggs have been turning up bad.

Ahreesh felt herself start to vibrate, and sternly repressed it. How many is a lot?

This year, maybe one in ten. We think it is from the last two flares. Seeing her mother’s stillness, Gerleesh realized she was putting her mother under great stress. There is nothing we can do about it, mother. Let’s finish getting me ready.

* * *

As she walked to the joining, Gerleesh kept looking nervously at the sky.

The world around her was beautiful, but not as beautiful as it had been. The ferns still reached for the blue sky, and the Loffa still bloomed, but there was less noise than there should have been. The beetles were out there, but they were not as active as they should be.

If the beetles don’t get into the Loffa, we will starve, Gerleesh thought, glancing once more upward.

The sun was bright, hot, and yellow, and it felt good, as Gerleesh began her long climb to the joining place.

About thirty degrees behind the sun, the problem stood just above the horizon. It had always been there, as long as her people had records. They had worshiped it as a two-eyed god, and they had reviled it as a devil, and neither had made any difference. It did, from time to time, ravage their world like a particularly vengeful god, but they had long understood what it truly was.

In addition to the sun, two lights showed bright and visible in the morning sky. At night, Gerleesh knew she could see the thread that connected the little white one to the dimmer big red one. Her people used to say that was the mother nursing her new hatchling, but now they knew it was one star robbing matter from another star. As new material collapsed onto the star that was taking it in, the star would periodically flare, sleeting Gerleesh’s planet with large amounts of damaging radiation.

The long-term threat was much greater, but with a quick vibrating shudder, Gerleesh directed her attention to the top of the hill, which she was now approaching.

The little monument had been the place of joinings for her people for thousands of years. Her mothers had all climbed this hill alone, to give an egg, or else to receive one to be fertilized, loved, and nurtured.

It was a moment Gerleesh had dreamed of her entire life, but with the bright binary threatening death and destruction above her, she wished she had insisted they do this underground.

All around the monument, her family and friends stood. Approaching from the other side of the hill came G’hosh, her pouch clearly full of ripening egg. Two friends walked beside her, as was tradition. Ahreesh waited for her daughter before the edge of the pedestal, holding the black Loffa.

Gerleesh reached deep into the flower, her feathers filling with its pollen. She slurped the nectar that was at its base, including the beetles that only lived in the black Loffa. As she swallowed, she imagined she could already feel her body changing, preparing to receive the egg.

G’hosh and Gerleesh alone stepped up onto the circular pedestal, four strides across. They stood, facing one another, until Gerleesh began to sway a little on her feet. The world was changing, and colors were becoming more intense. As the black loffa began to take effect upon her, she felt as if she could float out of her body.

Gerleesh took a deep breath, and started the ritual phrases.

Is the egg well? she asked.

It is, said G’hosh.

Have you nurtured and cared for it?

I have loved it with all my heart.

Is it ready to be awakened?

No. It is only half a child. It requires another to pour her soul into it, before it can be complete.

Now we come down to it, Gerleesh thought to herself, and she barely managed to still her excited trembling.

I will pour my soul into her, G’hosh, and your child shall become my child.

She shall become your child, then. Let us dance!

The two began a formal stepping about one another, in a pattern that became more and more intricate and intimate, until they spiraled in to the point at which their pouches were touching. Then G’hosh gasped, Take her! and Gerleesh reached in and took the heavy egg from G’hosh.

She lifted it carefully free from the other pouch, and just as carefully slid it into her own.

Then they resumed the dance in reverse, and if any noticed that both were vibrating, none mentioned it. They were entitled to cry, Gerleesh with joy, and G’hosh with both joy and loss.

Halfway through the separation dance, G’hosh stumbled, and several cried out. It wasn’t a big stumble, and she recovered quickly, but the idea of superstitious omens had not entirely been lost with increasing civilization. Gerleesh did not allow herself to stumble or react, but her worries sprang out afresh.

When they had reached the point of separation at which they had begun, they saluted each other with bending legs, then turned and stepped off the platform on opposite sides.

Gerleesh’s friends and family gathered about her. She looked back to see G’hosh stepping off the hill with her two friends, who were supporting her.

She will be fine, her mother said. She will grieve for a day or two, but then she will recover.

Have you ever given an egg, mother?

You know I have, twice, said Ahreesh. It is not as special as the first time you receive one, but it is still very special, although you are sad, after.

Sorry you did it?

Ahreesh laughed. I should let you find that out for yourself, but no, certainly not! It won’t make you immortal, like your experience with your daughter is about to do, but it is still special and wonderful. She hesitated, then said, You will have plenty of time for that later. Your daughter is going to require all your energy, for many years.

The celebration continued for half the day, before Gerleesh could get back to her sleeping pouch and rest. Exhausted from all the emotions of the day, she fell asleep very quickly.

She slept well, but her dreams were all about G’hosh stumbling in the joining dance.

* * *

Over the next few days, Gerleesh began the process of pouring herself into her child. The first part was easy and natural, as her body produced the genetic material that bonded with the egg and fertilized it. Then, as the egg quickened, Gerleesh would begin connecting to her child directly from her own spirit. Long before the child was hatched, she would be fully aware of her mother, and of her mother’s love for her.

By that time, Gerleesh would have broken free of her physical body, becoming nearly immortal. Once she had hatched an egg, Gerleesh would be able to maintain her body almost indefinitely, with the help of other Tarshen.

At work, the news continued to be grim. Gerleesh’s section of the Sky Research Group was evaluating the effects on planetary ecology of the recent flares. They were more devastating than Gerleesh had let on to her mother.

Gerleesh continued to work, feeling happy and excited despite the bad environmental news, although with a full pouch, she tended to bump into things. She could feel her body working to fertilize the egg, but she had not yet sensed that it had done so. Soon, she knew, that most wonderful feeling of them all would come from knowing her child was growing within her.

In the meantime, her spirit was already winding up to pour itself into her child. It was not merely a birth, it was a metamorphosis. In giving birth to her first child, Gerleesh would transform into something far beyond what she had been. The excitement and anticipation kept her spirits up, even when she realized it was taking longer than it should.

Another week went by before she began to worry. Her mother told her not to worry, but Gerleesh went to see a hatching specialist anyway. The specialist took a number of tests, then pulled Gerleesh aside to a comfort couch.

I’m sorry, the specialist told her. The egg has not quickened.

Noooooo! It was her greatest fear. It just needs more time! Gerleesh began shaking with grief.

There is nothing we can do, said the specialist. It looks like the egg was never viable to begin with, and it has already bonded itself with the inside of your pouch. It isn’t your fault. Sometimes this just happens.

Devastated, Gerleesh looked around. This can’t be happening! Mother, where are you? She needed her as never before, but she knew her mother was on the far side of the city, and would not be able to hear her grief.

Desperately, she clung to the specialist. What can I do? Please tell me there is hope for me.

The specialist sighed. I’m afraid there isn’t anything you can do, she said. We’ll post the notices, so G’hosh is not allowed to place any more eggs, since it was her egg that was bad. You appear to be normal, except that this egg will never hatch, and you will never be able to accept another egg.

If I can’t accept another egg, then, then ... The world was swirling about her, but she grabbed for the only support she could think of.

Isn’t there some kind of surgery that will fix this?

There is, yes, but it is both experimental and very expensive. It is only done for those who have performed extraordinary service to the Tarshen people. She got up. Wait here a moment.

Gerleesh sat empty in the sterile office, though it was filled with plants and flowers and life. Red Loffa bloomed, and beetles flew in and out. Yet all she could see was death.

Her pouch, which she had thought was so full of life, was now equally full of death. Not only would her daughter never come to be, Gerleesh herself would never be able to join with her mother and all her ancestors. The bonded, dead egg would be a part of her for the rest of her life, and she could never give or receive another.

I will never have a child, and I will die alone. She would never hear the songs of her mothers. She might live a thousand or more years, but it would be just one life, too quickly over, and gone forever. She would never know the stories, never be one with her ancestors, never have a child, and she would die alone. Alone, alone, alone!

The specialist came back in and handed her a pamphlet. Here. This describes the procedure, as well as what you have to do to qualify for it. I didn’t want to give you false hope. Not many qualify.

Gerleesh thanked her, and left in a daze. All through the ride home, she stared out the window of the tube, at the rock walls punctuated by flashes of open communities, with signs, gardens, and Tarshen walking about. Never, never, never, the flashes of sound seemed to chant as the capsule passed through the open areas.

For a brief time, the tube was above ground, and she looked up to where the binary stars were still visible, although the sun had gone down. Maybe the old myths were right after all, she thought. Maybe that is a devil in the sky, because it certainly has cursed me.

* * *

Gerleesh made it home, although she never remembered the trip. She almost stepped on two young Tarshen playing a game, and never noticed, even when they screeched at her.

She came into her quarters, and the walls accused her. You are not worthy of us, they seemed to say, and she shrank back from them. The extra room for the child she would never have seemed a precious abomination in her confusion. She went into the room and shook with sorrow at the hopes and dreams that had died in her pouch, sealing it forever.

She had material she could read or experience, or she could go out to visit with friends or her mother. But she did not want to read, or watch any entertainment. Her friends would all want to know how the pregnancy was coming. They would be joyful and irresistibly curious, until they found out the egg had died. Then they would be horrified and sympathetic, but they would also draw back, as if her personal disaster might be contagious.

The hardest one to face would be her mother. She would be more understanding, but seeing her own pain reflected in her mother’s eyes would be even worse. I can’t do that. She sat in her comfort rest in the empty room, staring at nothing.

Some indeterminate time later, she realized there was an alert at the door. Oh, no, she thought. I can’t face mother.

But the signal continued, and she went to open the door, getting herself looking as presentable as she could.

It wasn’t her mother. Gerleesh?

Yes? What now?

I’m with Management Services. The Tarshen worker said this as if it were obvious.

Gerleesh was puzzled. I don’t understand, she said. Why are you here?

I’m here to escort you to your new home.

Shock rippled through her. New home! But I don’t have any—

Right here, the Tarshen said, looking at a personal screen. I’m supposed to take you to dormitory 1798b.

It can’t be. A dormitory! Why would I move to a dormitory?

Something about no longer being eligible for parenting quarters. This way, she said, gesturing.

Gerleesh shook so hard, she collapsed. When she got control of herself a few minutes later, the Tarshen was sympathetic, but also unmoving.

Gerleesh took one last look around the place that had been her home for so many years. It was horribly cruel that they should do this so quickly after getting the news, but they were efficient, and there was no budging the worker. Gerleesh knew they were always looking for space in the parenting quarters, but she had no idea they were this urgent about it.

Gerleesh had no personal belongings, other than a bag with a few papers, and the pamphlet the hatching specialist had given her that afternoon.

The worker had a flitter, and in minutes, took her across the city to the public dormitories. Gerleesh would have her own sleeping chamber, but everything else would be shared with hundreds of others.

* * *

Alone in the tiny space that was all she had left as her own, she finally looked at the pamphlet. It said that surgery to remove a bonded egg so a Tarshen with a damaged pouch could again reproduce was expensive and difficult, but it could be done, with a high probability of success. It was only available, however, to those who had performed extraordinary service to the Tarshen people.

It then listed the types of service which enabled a Tarshen to qualify, and Gerleesh was appalled. They all involved what seemed to be extremely high risk factors, and probably involved changes to her body that would be both permanent and either partially or totally discomforting.

One didn’t seem so bad. She could be an interstellar explorer, surveying planets for possible colony sites for her people. That actually sounded like fun, so long as she could get home again.

The thought of moving permanently to another sun was anathema to Gerleesh, as it would have been to nearly all the Tarshen. Linked as they were to one another and all their mothers, the idea of leaving their planet was almost inconceivable. Gerleesh, however, worked with those who studied the results of the recent flares. She knew what had been happening to the plants and animals, but she also had talked to the physicists who studied the binary.

One of them had told her that the flashes were getting progressively worse, and the star that had most recently flashed was very close to going nova. When Gerleesh asked what that meant for the plants and beetles, she was told to calculate the effects from a flash a million times brighter than the last one, which went on for a month.

Gerleesh didn’t need to calculate it. The last flash was having devastating effects, all across the ecology, and it might have been directly responsible for G’hosh’s bad egg, now sealed in Gerleesh’s pouch. Much of the material would eventually be absorbed by her body, but most would not, forming a hard mass that was fused to her pouch. She would be forever pregnant with her dead child, unable ever to give birth.

A flash a million times as bright wouldn’t be devastating in the same way. It would torch their planet out of existence. Their oceans might not boil nor their crust melt, but nothing at all would be left alive on it.

Looking at the pamphlet, Gerleesh realized that they only had one position available. They didn’t actually need someone to do fifty years of underwater mining, outfitted with gills. Nor did they need someone to spend thirty years inside an active volcano. Nor any of the other things, which all now seemed absurd.

We need explorers, Gerleesh said to herself. She shook at the idea of being away from her mother and her home, but there was no other way to have a child, and she could be helpful to all of them. Finally, she had something positive to anticipate. I am perfectly suited for it, since I have not had a child yet. She looked down at the commitment. It required ten years of training, followed by fifteen years of exploration. Twenty-five years, and she could have a child. The world would have hope again. I will apply tomorrow.

She slept poorly that night, and was so confused that she almost followed her routine and went to work in the morning. Instead, she went over to the Exploration Group, which was conveniently just a short walk from her dormitory.

On the way, she looked up again at the binary, which was just rising. Sometime soon, the little white star would explode, killing their entire world. The physicist hadn’t been able to tell her when it would happen, but they were pretty sure it would happen in the next thousand years. It could theoretically happen at any moment.

Gerleesh stopped at the doors to the big building and shook for a moment. She wanted her friends. She wanted her mother. Then she realized that absolutely nothing would make a difference in her situation, or that of her people. She needed to be able to have a child, and her people needed a new home.

She took a deep breath, and went in.

* * *

Four years later, Gerleesh left for the stars.

No one told her why, but the ten years of training had been cut down in frantic haste. When anything happened that would delay the launch, her trainers just said she would have to repair, refit, or retrain under way. Her tiny hold was crammed full of spare parts and tools to finish building her ship, and to fix anything that broke.

Gerleesh had long since gotten over the shock of losing the egg, as much as she thought she ever would. She recognized the urgency in her training, and strove to complete it as quickly as she could.

Her mother had been more understanding than she had given her credit for being. She had been horrified at the idea of Gerleesh leaving the planet, however, until Gerleesh explained that it would give her a chance to have the corrective surgery and hatch a child. It was her one chance left to join with her mother and all her people and survive into the next cycle, so her mother reluctantly agreed with her choice, and never complained about it again.

The closer the day of departure came, the sadder Gerleesh felt about it. She would be away from her home and people for fifteen entire years while she explored ten star systems, and there were considerable risks in the journey itself. If anything went wrong in a serious way with any of the ship’s systems, she would die, much farther from her people than