"What about when it was your turn?"
"I survived."
"You make it sound like a jungle—kill or be killed."
"Survival of the fittest, that's a fact. This is a frontier, Shea. In some ways, it always will be. The distances are simply too vast, the people too few, the stakes too high. And in the final analysis, we're still too goddamn human, subject to the same old frailties. We get as many crimes committed out of passion as greed. The Marshals, and you blue-suits, are around to ensure things don't get too crazy."
"You a philosopher, too?"
He looked at her strangely and laughed. "Holy Mother, I forgot how cloistered you rookies are."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"What d'you take me for, Shea, your typical dumb-ass, quick-draw cop? Typical I may be, but I doubt in the way you think. I am, in fact, a philosopher, with the sheepskins and books to prove it. I have a master's in spacecraft engineering and astronomy, I'm a Board-certified medic, and a lawyer. And that's just the official crap."
"Oh."
" 'Oh,' she says, in a very small, wee voice. What the hell kind of people you figure you'll be dealing with, woman? The scum of the Earth? The dregs and wretched refuse of a thousand teeming slums? People who couldn't cut life dirtside and fled to space the way men used to join the French Foreign Legion? Ha!
"Christ, I'll bet DaCuhna's exactly the same. Too damn much video reality." He shook his head and let his laughter fade. "You know what constitutes a 'dreg' in this neighborhood? A body with only a couple of degrees, in one or two fields. You know why?" Nicole shook her head. "Because it's too bloody expensive to send someone up here and keep him alive! No corporation, no government, is going to invest that kind of money in a clown who won't last long enough to make it worth their while. They send the best and the brightest and of the lot, only the best and brightest—and maybe luckiest—survive. Good and bad, Shea, you'll be dealing with some very hot numbers, products of the ultimate in natural selection. Underestimate them and you're finished. That's why none of the Earth-based syndicates have ever been able to get even a foothold on Luna. Because their people are quite simply no match for ours, crooks or cops. It's also why Lunabased criminals are no real match for Belters and vacuum riders. Different turf, totally different sets of rules."
"I'll remember."
"Mark this, too. Most spacers pass the time when traveling, since it takes so bloody long to get anywhere In-system, by studying. Anything and everything. It keeps the mind honed, and the mind is what keeps you breathing. Never take anyone at face value; chances are, if they're top-notch spacers, they're polymaths, experts in a half-dozen fields and knowledgeable in a score more. At this point, and for a helluva while to come, you're at the disadvantage, in an arena where, as you've no doubt heard often, there's no margin for error."
"So how does anyone manage to survive?"
"Skill and talent. And never making a mistake. Survival of the fittest."
There was a soft ping from the panel between them and the main speaker crackled: "DSC Wanderer from DaVinci Port Control, how do you copy, over?"
"DaVinci," Nicole replied, after flicking the appropriate switches. " Wanderer reads five-by, over."
"Please activate your video comlink, Wanderer; we have Major Garcia on-line."
Nicole acknowledged and, a moment later, Cat's face appeared on the fifty-centimeter main screen.
"As you've no doubt guessed," she said with a slight smile, "Lieutenant DaCuhna and Dr. Murai will be spending the night baseside."
"No problem, Major," Nicole grinned. "All on-board systems are nominal, and I've got Marshal Ciari to keep me company. And out of trouble."
"Of the one, I'm sure," Cat murmured. "The latter, less so."
"I think we'll be okay." Nicole kept her tone light, on the assumption that Cat was needling her in fun. But she was sure there was a faint edge of nastiness to Cat's voice, a burr of resentment. Half listening to what the other woman was saying, Nicole cast her thoughts back to dinner in the Oak Room and the way she'd reacted to Nicole's attack on her friend, Morgan. Did she still carry a grudge? What effect would that have on the mission? Perhaps, she rationalized, it's me, my imagination, making this up.
Cat was looking off-screen. "I'm just scanning your medical telemetry—" Mission Control had them under constant biological monitoring while they were aboard, via scanners scattered throughout the spacecraft. "When was the last time you got a decent night's sleep, Shea?"
"Same as everybody else, I suppose, about six weeks back."
"Very funny."
"Sorry, Major. We've been busy."
"That's no excuse. You've been doing far more than your fair share, Nicole, and while that's very laudable, it's catching up with you. You've overtired and starting to make mistakes. You know you missed two items on the weapons checklist?"
With a startled, " Damn!", Nicole jerked forward in her chair, forgetting she was weightless. Her suddenly flailing hand knocked the ring binder off its perch, which in turn sent her teapak tumbling away. She caught both easily, but she also knew she should never have struck them in the first place.
"I rest my case," Cat said. "Go to bed."
"Major..."
"Lieutenant, you've already had one lesson in the dangers of overconfidence; I guarantee the second won't be as pleasant. And General Canfield won't save you this time. I'm told you're special, prove it."
"Yes, ma'am."
The screen went dark and Nicole rubbed her face with her hands. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she told herself, over and over, thinking far fouler and more scathing comments.
"You'll have to shut down the weapons board," Ciari said quietly, "and recycle the command systems over to automatic." She nodded dumbly and he reached for the checklist. "I'll handle the guns," he told her, "you do the rest."
When they finished, Ciari swam through the air towards the core hatch and down to the "Home" Carousel. Nicole stayed behind on the flight deck, sitting in the dark, gazing through the viewports at the stars. There wasn't a sound around her; she had to strain to hear the shush of the air cyclers, though their status telltales told her they were functioning perfectly. In the distance, she saw a crease of light along the Lunar horizon, then held her breath as the full Earth slowly, majestically, rose into view, bright and blue and more beautiful than anything she'd ever seen.
It had been five months since she'd last stood on its surface, a little longer since she'd last seen her family. Her folks had celebrated Christmas early, combining it and Thanksgiving, just for her. Because when Christmas actually rolled around, Nicole would be on the Moon.
Everyone had been there. Family, friends, people she'd known and loved all her life, some she hadn't seen in years. A few, like her grandmother, she might never see again.
By Saturday, though, the constant good cheer was beginning to drive Nicole batty. She'd always been a fairly solitary person, more at home in the mountains or on the ocean than amid the hustle and bustle of the big city where she grew up. That ability to endure long stretches by herself was part of what made her a potential spacer. As the weekend wore on, she discovered that what she craved most was some time to herself. It was early morning, pre-dawn, when she slipped out the back door and headed for the beach. She thought no one had seen her leave; she was wrong.
Conal Shea found his eldest child sitting on the crest of a giant dune, overlooking the ocean. It was a favorite spot for both of them, with a panoramic view of the Atlantic. Sighing, he eased down onto the sand beside her, Nicole looking at him in surprise; she'd been so lost in thought that she hadn't heard his approach.
"Dad," was her lame greeting.
"Saw you scoot," he said, answering her unspoken question, "thought you might like some company."
"Not bloody likely," Nicole snorted, with a toss of her head toward the house, the words out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. "Oh, hey, Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... "
"No offe
nse given, hon, none taken. Besides, I didn't mean that kind of company."
They sat in silence for a while. Nicole sensed that her father had something to tell her, yet she was unsure of how to break the ice. She had a lot to say herself, and once again wished she had Paul DaCuhna's gift for conversation. Nicole was all right with people she knew, and had learned to deal with those she didn't, provided she was familiar with the subject under discussion, but whenever things turned personal, she froze. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk about herself—occasionally, the need was desperate—she simply couldn't. Terminal shyness. Which was pretty ironic, considering her father was a lawyer and her mother a world-class journalist-turned-novelist, both of them able to cope marvelously with even the most ticklish social situation. Somehow, Nicole had never picked up the knack. They always assumed that, sooner or later, she would. She knew better.
"Will you miss this place, Nicole?" Conal asked.
"Yeah," she replied wistfully, "more than anything, I think. Nothing like it where I'm going, that's for sure. The latest Lunar Appropriations Bill provides funding to expand the Park System to five acres. Can you believe it, Dad? Five acres, for the entire Moon!"
"Don't knock it, sweetheart. When I was a boy, there was no park, period. No DaVinci Base, either; no Copernicus, no people at all higher than low Earth orbit."
"The times, they have a'changed."
"That's for sure. And Dylan lived to see it. Judith Canfield still runs things up there, doesn't she?"
" Uh-huh. And, the way she's built, she'll probably last forever."
"Show some respect, brat."
Nicole chuckled and shook her head. "That was only partly a joke, you know. Her bionics give her a real edge over us purely organic critters."
"Given the choice, Nicole," her father said, with a faint warning edge to his voice, "I'm certain she'd prefer otherwise."
"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean any harm. I didn't know I was hitting any sort of raw nerve. I didn't even know you knew her."
"A very long time ago." He spoke with a finality that meant this was all he intended to say on the subject. "I'm all for the irreverence of youth, Nicole, but in this case you haven't earned the right."
There was another silence, as gulls cavorted overhead, arguing over a scrap of edible garbage one had scooped from the water. It was light enough to see, but the sun hadn't yet appeared, and the dawn breeze made Con wish he'd worn a heavier sweater. Siobhan would cheerfully kill him if he caught cold and spoiled their New Year's vacation.
"Scared, Nicole?"
"Stiff, pops."
"Are you certain this is what you want?"
"Helluva time for second thoughts, isn't it?"
"If you have them, better now than when you're in deep space."
"Y'know, Dad, when NASA first got started, people called space the 'Final Frontier.' Well, that's what it is for me, a frontier. I need to know what's out there – who's out there! It's a challenge I have to answer. Crazy as it sounds, that's where I belong. Christ, it does sound crazy!"
"I understand. Look back through our history—both your mother's family and mine—we've always been a footloose, wandering clan."
"Mom cried last night."
"Not for the first time, I'm afraid."
Nicole looked at him in astonishment. "She never let on she was so upset! Not in letters, not on the phone!"
"It's been building, in both of us. Nickle"—he used her childhood nickname, which she hadn't heard from him since she entered high school—"surprising as it sounds, your mother and I, whose stock in trade is words, more often than not find ourselves tongue-tied when dealing with those we love. We're very proud of you—what you've accomplished—but we also don't want to see you go."
"I've been away before. And I'll be back."
He shook his head. "If all goes well for you, the earliest we can hope to see you again—in the flesh, in front of us where we can touch and hold you—is six years from now. And if you're assigned to OutSystem duty, even allowing for the Baumier StarDrive, we may never see you again."
"I... never thought of it like that."
"Neither, I confess, did we." Conal took a deep breath and Nicole noticed a slight shudder in his voice that had nothing to do with the chill wind. "Now we think about it far too much.
"This past week, I've become painfully aware of everything I've done for you—and to you—in your life. And also of some things that had nothing to do with you. But perhaps will. All my decisions, good—and bad. And the person they created in you."
"I don't understand, are you disappointed in me?" she asked softly.
"Good Lord, no, quite the opposite!" Conal's mouth twisted in wry amusement as he searched for the precisely proper phrase, the way Nicole had seen him do in court, on the rare occasions she'd been allowed to watch her father argue a case to the jury. "What I mean, Nicole, is that I, and your mother, have become terribly conscious of all the missed opportunities of our lives together. The moments we might have shared, should have shared, but didn't."
"Balanced against those we did," Nicole countered.
Her father smiled. "Very sensible, eminently logical. Unfortunately, I'm talking emotion, which often has very little sense to it, but simply is."
Nicole caught sight of a crease of fire along the horizon, so blinding she had to blink; and when her eyes cleared, the sun was fully visible. She heard Conal laugh, almost to himself. He sniffed and she realized he was crying. She was shaken. It was a part of him she'd never seen and, in truth, hadn't thought possible. She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.
"I'm only human, Nicole," he said at last. "And it's only human to feel sad when one is about to lose something supremely precious. There's an old saying: that you never truly realize how important some things, or people, are until the moment you lose them. I thought I'd learned that lesson, the hard way, years ago. My error."
"Dad..." Again, Nicole was too stunned to speak. She'd never heard such naked emotion in her father's voice, seen it on his face. She was all confused inside—privileged that he would open his heart to her like this, yet embarrassed at the exposure. She supposed she'd wanted him to be stronger than that. She'd always tried to pattern herself after him and if he was flawed, what then did that mean for her? And what did his enigmatic references to the past have to do with her future?
She looked up, met his eyes, and suddenly all her questions fled and she was in his arms. They held each other fiercely close, letting tears run free.
"Wherever you go, my heart," Conal told her, "always remember that we love you. With all our hearts."
"I love you guys too, Dad."
"Yo—anyone home up there?" Ciari called from the hatch, yanking Nicole out of her reverie.
"Hmnh?! Oh, Jesus—sorry, Marshal," she said in a rush, feeling like a total fool. "I was just taking a minute to unwind."
"No problem. And the name's Ben." He flashed a smile, the light from the core DropShaft below giving his face a very sinister cast, and turned back for the Carousel. Nicole Called to him. "Ben, you remember the dinner when we all met."
"Yup."
"That drunk, Morgan, he made a crack about me and the General, you know anything about it?"
"I'm a cop, Shea, we don't traffic in blue-suit gossip."
"Then there is something?"
"I don't know. Strikes me there's only one person who does."
"Right, I'll just phone the General and ask her."
"The man was trying to be hurtful, Nicole, because you represent something he can never be again. Dump his file, he isn't worth the effort."
"I suppose. It bugs me, that's all—especially with Cat making the same kind of crack."
"She likes to needle, that's her way of seeing how good you are. But she's good at her job."
"You've served with her."
"Run a few missions, out in the Belt. I'd trust her with my back."
"I guess that's high praise."
"You'll learn. Face it, Canfield intervened to overrule her trainee evaluations board. That almost never happens. It's made you special. You fail, by implication she fails; some people would like that."
"I didn't ask..."
"Irrelevant."
"Is Elias one of them?"
"Of who?"
"You know—the crowd that's after the General. Morgan was right on the mark with him and the stunt he pulled to try to force me to resign."
"He had his reasons."
"Who? What were they? Damn it, Ciari, stop being so elliptical!"
"Morgan wanted to fuck with your head. I assume that much was obvious—" She nodded. "—and to that end, I'd hazard he was prepared to say anything. As for Elias, he trusts his instincts as much as Canfield does hers. He's also proud. It could be he thinks she made a mistake and he was simply doing his best to protect her."
"What do you think?"
"Simulators aren't reality, Nicole. Neither is orbit. I'll reserve judgment."
"Shit."
"It's done, Shea, something you'll have to live with. C'mon, we're overdue for bag-time. You wouldn't be half so crazy about this if you weren't so tired."
She started to speak, but voice and resolution trailed off together and she felt more foolish, more at sea, than she'd been at her first teen-age dance—and that had been an utter disaster. Ciari said nothing, but merely floated in the hatchway, looking at her, expression masked by shadow.
She tried again. "I was, uh, wondering... I... feel sort of nervous. I don't want to spend the night alone." As she spoke, she tried to see his eyes, wondering what he saw, what he was thinking; too late, she wished she'd never said a word.
"Your place or mine," was his reply.
The ship was in nocturnal mode, with a minimum of illumination; Nicole left the cubicle lights off as well, so that all they saw of each other as they undressed were random highlights cast against the darkness of their bodies. She was aware of his closeness, her back so tense it ached, as she slipped under the catchweb beside him, fastening it to the bed to prevent even natural movement during sleep from pushing them all over the place. She wanted to be held, yet found herself afraid of what that contact might bring. She wasn't a virgin and, though she was nowhere near as adventurous as Paul DaCuhna, didn't think of herself as a prude. Yet there was something about Ciari that activated all her defenses. Perhaps a sense that if something started between them, it wouldn't be casual. That thought surprised her.
First Flight Page 5
