“Why are you trying to send me away?” Morgan said, turning slowly to look at him with narrowed eyes. “I was there, I should, I should report in. Unless you want to lie about what happened, but that doesn’t make any sense.”
Morgan caught Eck and Weaver exchanging another glance and she just snapped.
“Enough!” she shouted as she jumped to her feet. “I’m hot, tired, my head is ringing, and you’re acting all strange. Now, out with it!”
She glanced down at her hands, and they were shaking again, but it felt different, somehow.
How Eck and Weaver would respond to her little outburst Morgan hadn’t been able to guess, but visible relief from both of them would not have made any theoretical list of possibilities.
“All right, Cutie,” he said, holding both hands up, palms towards her in a conciliatory gesture. “Its fine, you’re right, you should stay. In fact,” he turned to Weaver, “I think you can get back to what you were doing. Thanks for tagging along.”
Weaver didn’t say anything, but nodded and did exactly that.
“You need to get explaining,” Morgan growled. It felt good to have something to vent her anger at, even if he wasn’t really the target of her anger. Who is, though?
“Was that your first time in a real fight, Cutie?” Eck asked.
The question was a complete non sequitur as far as Morgan could tell, and what’s more it was so completely removed from the reality of her life that she couldn’t help but laugh. Uproariously, even.
“What,” she paused to laugh a bit more, “makes you think something silly like that?”
“Cutie, you were rather close to going into full blown shock there for a minute,” Eck said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen it before, especially with newbies.”
Morgan shook her head.
“Before I answer, how about you answer your own question? How many fights have you been in, real ones I mean?”
Eck nodded, a little frown crossing his face.
“That’s fair. To be honest, not sure I’d call that a ‘real’ fight, in that they weren’t actually trying to kill each other. A brawl, maybe. I’ve been in plenty of brawls over the years, and a couple real fights. The worst was one time I was on guard duty; the ship was docked, and some idiots decided to try and steal the ship. They ran off right quick when we opened fire, but we didn’t hit any of them and they didn’t even have any weapons beyond some bats and knives.”
Morgan snorted in amusement, a decidedly inelegant reaction, but natural. Now that her head was starting to clear a bit, she was beginning to realize how out of it she had been, and it puzzled her. She hadn’t reacted that way before, so why now?
“I guess, then, I’ve been in more real fights than you have.”
“Seriously?” Eck said, failing to mask the surprise in his voice, assuming he had even tried. “You don’t look it, Cutie like you.”
“Oh? So only rough and gruff men can get in trouble? I wonder what Marigold would say to that? Especially since she was there for one of my ‘real’ fights.”
“Ah. I should have realized; you were on the Fate of Dawn.”
“Yes, though that wasn’t the only time, or the first. First was when I was still in school, some street thugs almost killed me. The other time… I’d rather not talk about that.”
Any follow-up question from Eck was forestalled as the lift arrived, and Lieutenant Jacob sauntered off, looking rather silly in a pair of long shorts and some kind of light shirt with a bright floral pattern.
Evidently Morgan’s expression was less schooled than she’d thought, as his first comment was directed to her.
“Too hot for a uni. Got a problem with the outfit, don’t do crap to draw my attention.” His artificial voice was somehow even gravellier than normal, and his tone didn’t brook any backtalk, even if Morgan had been inclined to do so. Which she wasn’t. “What happened?”
Retelling the incident, starting with Eck telling what he could of the inciting insult, as neither of them had heard any of the rest of the conversation leading up to it, took longer than the actual fight had. Jacob grunted when the explanation turned to broken ankles, but he didn’t interrupt them.
“Fine. Not like cap’n wasn’t expecting a bit of this. Not good about the bones, though. He might have words for you in the morning.” Jacob shrugged. “Better if you hadn’t, but he threw the first punch.”
Pulling up his wrist, Jacob activated his uplink.
“Send me data, I’ll pass along,” he said. Once they had, he checked it briefly, then nodded. “Right. Thanks for getting me off bridge a bit, bloody hot up there.” With that he left with a wave of one hand, but not without calling out over his shoulder, “All the same, avoid fights, Morgan.”
Once he was back on the lift, the doors closing, Morgan slumped back down onto the bench.
“Now I’m exhausted,” she said, for the moment not even caring to keep up a pretense of strength in front of Eck.
He just nodded.
“Adrenaline is like that once it is all over. Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but I have a small suggestion for you.”
“Fine, I’m listening,” Morgan said, closing her eyes and covering them with one palm. I’m so tired I don’t even care if I eat anything before bed. I’m certainly skipping my gym time tonight.
“You’ve clearly got strength to spare, and now that I know you were with Marigold on the Fate, I assume you’re at least okay with a pistol.”
“And?”
“And you could use some training on fighting a bit less lethally.”
“Who’d teach me? You?”
She could hear him move a bit and peeked through her fingers enough to catch the end of his shrug accompanied by a sheepish smile.
“Why not? A few of the LT’s are better at it than I am, hands down, but they’re usually teaching more advanced stuff. I’m talking about just the basics here, nothing too complicated.”
Morgan closed her eyes again and thought about it. It didn’t sound like a bad idea, but him offering felt a bit self-serving. She’d gotten more used to it, but he was still constantly flirting with her, and any combat training was going to involve close contact, which she wasn’t thrilled about.
Then again, it would be a good way to work off some frustration, without hurting anyone, and with no sauna on board – ha, the whole ship is a sauna – and no way to talk with her therapist, she was finding herself getting more irritated as the weeks dragged on.
“Fine,” she said, “But don’t blame me when you end up broken.”
“Great,” Eck said, and she could hear the grin in his voice, “We’ll just need to be sure to get you the proper clothing for it.”
“Why do I get the feeling this is going to upset me?” Morgan asked.
“Because you are an untrusting soul?” Eck responded. “I swear, I’m just recommending the normal workout outfit for the style I’m familiar with.”
“And yet you feel the need to specify this.”
“It’ll be fine,” he said, “You’ll see.
Chapter 17
What are we? As humans, I mean. Are we the sum of our parts, merely some trillions of cells acting out the directives of our DNA? Are we a spirit, an immortal being temporarily inhabiting those trillions of cells? Or perhaps, we are both, and the sum of our parts – infinite and finite – is far greater than that of either alone.
- Bishop Gerald J. Stevenson, Planet Zion.
Gertrude
WORRY WAS a constant in Gertrude’s life. She’d known that would be the case the moment she’d agreed to marry Naru, and the children they’d hoped to raise together. They hadn’t gotten those children, and he’d not gotten to spend much time with Haruhi before he’d been taken from them, but somehow she suspected that one child or ten, the amount of worry would have been the same.
Having Morgan to worry about in addition to Haru certainly seemed to support her theory.
Then there were times like now, when s
he was so worried she felt like she couldn’t stand it another moment, each moment proving herself wrong as she managed, somehow. Morgan had been through a lot, more than any kid should have to. While Morgan was holding up better than Gertrude thought she would in her place, Gertrude could also see the cracks starting to show.
Which was why she was now outside Morgan’s quarters, sweating profusely – and not entirely from the insufferable heat – and walking up and down the corridor trying to work up the courage to ring the chime.
Why is it so hard to suggest something I truly know will be of help to her? Yeah, Morgan gets defensive whenever she thinks people are meddling or pushing themselves on her, but she’ll listen to me.
Is it because I’m afraid she’ll say no? That her upbringing is so foreign to mine that she won’t be able to see any benefit from it?
I’ve waited this long for a good opportunity, waiting for a better chance of success so I don’t blow what might be my only chance, should I wait longer?
Will there ever be a good time for it?
Shaking her head, Gertrude gave up on the pacing and sought out the end of the corridor. There was a small nook there with a bench and display screen that tied into the ship’s computer. That she ignored, but the padded bench was nice.
Maybe I’m just being silly. Maybe I should just take my own advice.
Taking a moment to quiet her mind and body first, Gertrude prayed. She prayed that Morgan would be receptive, that she’d seen enough of the influence religion had had on her life to recognize where Gertrude was coming from, what she was offering her. She prayed she’d find the right words, that she’d be able to truly help her friend.
As she finished, she reflected on the things that would help her. Including the fact that it could hardly be coincidence that Bill Brown served on the same ship as them, the man who’d led the small number of their religion working for Takiyama for some four years now.
Peace settled over her, and a line from one of her favorite hymns went through her head. Gird up your loins; fresh courage take. Our God will never us forsake.
She smiled as another, far sillier thought went through her head.
This could be so much harder. You could need to explain to Morgan what in the galaxy ‘gird up your loins’ means.
Gertrude walked sedately back to Morgan’s quarters and rang the chime. She had made sure to pick a time when the younger woman wouldn’t be sleeping, and it was only a few moments before she answered.
“Gertrude, this is a bit of a surprise,” Morgan said, but said with a smile. It looked like Gertrude had gotten lucky with her timing; Morgan was still dressed for exercise in a sports bra and short shorts, and she was sweatier than simply the heat would account for. She also looked more relaxed than Gertrude had seen of late; maybe the training she’d mentioned she’d be doing was helping as well?
“Sorry I didn’t call ahead, but I’ve been meaning to talk with you for a while.”
“Are you in a rush?” Morgan asked, gesturing down at herself. “I just got back, and was about to take a shower. We might not have cold water at this point, but even a hot shower will still help a little.”
“That’s fine, take your time,” Gertrude said, following Morgan back into the room. “Are you enjoying having your own space again?” Gertrude asked, trying to ignore the rather messy state of the spaces she could see.
“Mostly,” Morgan said, grabbing her things and heading into the bathroom. “I do miss having Haruhi around,” she added as the door closed behind her.
Gertrude sat on the couch, fiddling with her uplink as she waited.
It wasn’t a long wait; Morgan never had been one for long showers. Dressed in the oversized robe Emily had given her, Morgan settled in on a chair opposite Gertrude.
“So, what’s up? Are you doing okay? I know not being able to message Haru has been hard on you.”
“I’m doing okay. I have faith Haruhi is being watched after. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Faith.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I’ve thought about this a lot, about what I can do to help you, things I think will be valuable in your life. To put it simply, Morgan, I’d like you to start coming to church with me. Really coming, I mean, not just sitting there while Haruhi attends.”
Morgan was quiet for a moment.
“You know I don’t believe, Gertrude. I wasn’t raised with that. It still is hard for me to understand.”
“I know that. I also know that you don’t not believe, either. I just think it is time you find out for yourself what you believe, which you can’t do if you don’t even know what it’s about.”
“You really believe it?” Morgan asked.
“Absolutely.”
“And it really does help you?”
“It is a great peace in my life, yes.”
Morgan was quiet again, for a long stretch this time.
“Peace. I’m not sure I know what that really feels like anymore. All right, G. I’ll try. No promises, though. I’d hate to start this if you’ll be upset if it turns out I don’t feel anything.”
“An honest try is all I ask for,” Gertrude said, standing up and moving over to hug Morgan. “What kind of friend would I be, if I didn’t offer this to you, knowing how much it helps me?”
Chapter 18
Look. We should be honest here. Watching sensors, or waiting for incoming calls. All of that junk is boring as all get out. If it isn’t on your ship, you might want to consider relocating from whatever active war zone you’ve found yourself in. So how do we keep them alert for what is still, boredom aside, an important job? I know some navies keep their CIC cold, to avoid heat-induced drowsiness, and that’s okay, I guess. You can try giving them things to alleviate the boredom, but that just introduces a new distraction. You can try swapping them out more often, but that takes a lot of manpower. So how do you do it?
No, really, how do you? I’d love to know.
- Captain Rick Ramus, Aston Space Navy.
Bob, Tech Guy, Mining Station Nu-Gamma-Gamma-Yu-Upsilon
BOB HAD long since mastered the art of dozing with his eyes open, sitting upright and pretending to work. And why not? Nothing ever happened out here, way out beyond the ‘interesting’ parts of the star system and their nearest neighbors dozens of millions of kilometers away. Sure, there was a resupply ship twice a year or so, but that kept his attention for a grand total of a few minutes each time they arrived or left.
Things were so bad that the few minutes they’d received an unexpected message from the delivery guys saying they had some damage to something or other and wouldn’t be communicating until arrival had made his week.
Hell, it was so bad that he wished he could be transferred somewhere else where he would actually have to work.
But no, the company insisted they keep someone at the communication/sensor station at all times, that they didn’t trust computers to alert them when something was going on, and Bob was the newest hire, so it fell to him.
Maybe someone will start a fight or something, and be demoted? It has happened before.
So deep was Bob in his dreams of being able to, at last, haul ore or break rock or maybe even operate a mining laser that he missed the ping of a new contact trace on the sensors.
In fact, he didn’t notice it for at least a half-hour, and it might have been longer. It might have even been several hours, given how close they were when he finally did notice.
The angle of approach wasn’t what he was expecting, but the ship did look about the right size for their replacement delivery freighter.
What was its name again? Something stupid? Steve? Trevor? John?
Powering up the communication laser he got it targeted properly. Or rather, the computer did. Bob was not dumb, exactly, but aiming a laser at where the incoming ship would be in the seconds it took the laser to reach them, when ship and station were both moving about the star system, was quite beyond his more meager math skills.
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“Incoming freighter, please verify identity,” he asked, slouching back against his comfortable chair to wait for a reply.
When none came after a few minutes, he was annoyed. He finally got to do something, and they weren’t letting him do it! So he sent a more demanding request.
Still no response.
After the third, he remembered that the freighter had told them that they wouldn’t be able to communicate.
Still, he was puzzled at where they were approaching from. It was roughly on course from Zion, but from well below the plane of the system. And they weren’t due for at least a month, right? That was when the original ship was due, anyway.
Maybe they’re faster?
Shrugging Bob checked the time. The captain was assuredly still asleep, but she’d be awake and checking in at least a half hour before the ship arrived, so there wasn’t any point in waking her.
Yawning, Bob leaned back in his chair and watched the icon representing the freighter slowly crawl across his screen.
At least it was something new.
***
About ten minutes before the captain’s morning check-in, the station’s out-of-date communication systems finally recognized that they had, in fact, been jammed since slightly before Bob had mentally shrugged and decided it was just STEVE coming in early. Not that this belated realization did Bob any good, as he didn’t notice the bright red flashing light, nor would he have recognized it if he had, but the captain did when she came in.
That was when the swearing, screaming, and sobbing started.
Chapter 19
I’ve spoken before on the motivating power of spite, but there are other, more powerful emotions that can motivate people to do wonderous things. Hope, love, duty, loyalty, even something as simple as optimism. How we approach problems sets the tone for everything that comes after. Two people going through similar trials, both weighed down, both debilitated by factors beyond their control. One will buckle and crumble, the other will push on, a smile on her face. What’s the difference? Hope and despair. Love and hate. Optimism. Just looking for the positive can make things actually more positive. Conversely, a soldier convinced he will die on the battlefield almost invariably does, and often not alone.
Running Black Page 14
