by Glenn Smith
“You’re welcome,” Dylan quietly commented after him.
Nicole drew a deep breath and sighed. “Eric, let me tell you something about Geoff. Our grandparents were among the original colonists who settled Europa. My mother died giving birth to Stacy. I was nine at the time and Geoff was eight. Three years later my father finally drank himself to death. That was fourteen years ago. He could easily have found help for his problem, but he was too depressed to look for any and too proud to accept any that was offered. That made it even worse for the three of us.
“Unfortunately, we inherited that very same pride, and after he died we raised ourselves rather than allow strangers to take us in. Even though I’m the oldest, Geoff always felt that as the man of the family he was responsible for Stacy’s and my safety. Old thinking, maybe, but that’s the way he felt nonetheless. I don’t know how things work on Earth, but on Europa taking on the responsibility for someone’s safety and wellbeing is a very big deal.”
“I imagine so.”
“Trying to live up to that responsibility has been really hard on Geoff. He’s done the very best he can, but he feels inadequate because he hasn’t been able to find work since he saved up enough to buy our way off Europa, which is why I do what I do by the way.”
“I don’t judge you for what you do, Nicole,” Dylan told her. “I have no right. But... he can’t find work? With his engineering skills?”
“I know. Pretty hard to believe, isn’t it? Until you stop and think about it, that is. He’s had interviews with any number of companies, but as soon as they find out he’s a legal citizen of Europa they suddenly remember that all their positions have been filled.”
“That’s discrimination,” Dylan pointed out. “He could fight that in court.”
“Is that right?” Nicole asked, sarcasm filling her tone.
“Sure,” he answered. “All you have to do is...”
“And who pays all the legal bills?” she asked, interrupting. “I certainly don’t make that kind of money, even in my line of work. Hell, in my line of work the clients only care about three things—that you’re clean, you’re good, and that you’re not too expensive. Not necessarily in that order, either. And even if I had the education necessary to qualify for a decent job, I’d just come up against that same discrimination.”
“But legal assistance and education both are readily available to all citizens...”
“...to all citizens of the United Earth Federation,” she finished for him, “which, thanks to both Europan and Federation governmental policies, we are not.”
Dylan paused for a moment to think back on what he learned in school about that whole situation. Europa hadn’t been independent for more than a few years before the president sent in the fleet Marines to restore the legitimate government, which in turn led its people back into the Earth Federation’s warm embrace, but no one in 2168 would know that was going to happen. He had to approach the conversation as though he were just another guy from the present looking in from the outside, knowing only what such a person should know. “But the help is still there for the asking if you go through the right governmental channels. Since you’re living on Mars now, you could declare Martian citizenship.”
“Mars is part of the Federation. Why should we trust the very government that abandoned us when we needed it most?”
“Abandoned you? I thought a majority of Europan colonists voted to abdicate.” He knew, of course, that that wasn’t what had happened, but again... just another guy from the present.
“The rebel forces who seized power and declared independence abdicated,” she told him. “As for the rest of us, we would have welcomed Solfleet’s intervention if we could’ve found a way to ask for it. Instead, we were silenced by our own self-proclaimed leadership under threat of death and the Federation government left us alone to handle our own internal affairs. Your government abandoned us and cost Geoff his military career, so Geoff refuses to go running back to it to ask for help. He says it’s a matter of principle, and I have to say that I do see his point.”
“You’d rather keep doing what you do now?”
“Of course not!” she practically shouted. “Why do you think Geoff used all our savings to put a down payment on this ship? That was a huge risk and we both know it, but the way we figure it, if we can land a few lucrative transport commissions, then we can pay it off. I can quit doing what I’m doing and we can turn transportation into a full-time family business. We could actually make a pretty decent living at it.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. I hope it works out for you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Dylan took a long sip of his coffee—it was pretty good—then asked, “So what about Geoff’s friends, Garcia and Verdai? What are they like?”
“Well,” she began, “most importantly, they’re good friends to Geoff. The bank wouldn’t extend the amount of credit necessary to buy this ship to a Europan citizen on his own, so Carlos cosigned for him in exchange for a percentage of the business. He’s an experienced engineer in his own right. He joined the Merchant Marine after Solfleet Academy rejected his application and spent several years in space. Verdai has been a pilot for God knows how many years. He’s been teaching Geoff how to fly this old bird for months.”
“They sound like good people.”
“They are.”
“And what about you and Stacy? What are your jobs aboard the ship?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “We help wherever we can.”
For the next few minutes they drank their coffee in silence. Dylan had a vague sense of the woman’s eyes on him as she refilled his mug, but he had something else on his mind.
“You seem distracted,” she noted as she returned the decanter to its place and then sat back down.
Dylan looked up at her without knowing why, and only then realized that she’d spoken. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I said, you seem distracted. What are you thinking about?”
“The Naku,” he told her honestly.
“Verdai?”
“No, not Verdai,” Dylan answered, shaking his head. “That little trouble I ran into on my way here was a couple of Naku warriors.”
“Cortan?” she asked, concerned.
“Yeah,” he answered, nodding.
“Well that certainly explains what happened to you. How’d you get away?”
“I put up a decent fight, even broke his nose again, but he had the upper hand. I still can’t believe how strong he was. Anyway, he was about to use me to sheath his dagger when the other one showed up and stuck him in the back like a roasted pig.”
“Oh my God!” Nicole exclaimed, wide eyed. “Did he kill him?”
“Without a second thought, or so it seemed. Then he gave me a rather stern warning.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me that Cortan did swear an oath of vengeance against me, just as you said, and that he had some very powerful friends, some of whom might still want to repay some of the old debts they owe him, even though he’s dead now.”
Nicole sighed. “Well, as soon as everyone arrives, we’re out of here. Once we leave the Solar system we’ll put a few light years between Cortan’s friends and us in a big hurry and you won’t have to worry about them.”
“Why doesn’t that make me feel much better?” Dylan asked rhetorically.
“I don’t know. Maybe it shouldn’t,” Nicole quipped.
They finished their coffee over much more casual conversation. Then, just as Nicole was setting their mugs into the sterilizer, the others came aboard the ship.
As his name implied, Garcia was a dark-haired, dark-eyed, Latino. He was obviously several years older than Dylan, well groomed, and grinned pleasantly as he greeted the others before he headed aft. Verdai, on the other hand, greeted Dylan with nothing more than a brief nod that made the dozen or so traditional metallic beads woven into the right side of his shoulder-len
gth black hair tinkle lightly, like distant wind chimes in a gentle summer breeze. He was a little friendlier with Nicole, greeting her with a ‘Good morning’ and a smile that looked a bit forced, and then he headed topside to get to work. Dylan suspected he’d met Sulaini soldiers on the battlefield who were friendlier.
Stacy was something else entirely. A seventeen year old beauty with long, golden blond hair and deep sea-blue eyes, she reminded Dylan of the young woman whose kidnapping he’d failed to prevent back on Cirra. Or rather, whose kidnapping he would fail to prevent in about twenty-two years. She was wearing a flight suit identical to her sister’s except for its slightly tighter fit, but hadn’t zipped it up much past her naval, allowing it to gape open and reveal a lot of bare skin. Her eyes locked onto Dylan and she flashed him a bright, pearl-white smile as she approached him. “Hi,” she said, offering her hand. “I’m Stacy.”
“Eric,” he returned, shaking her hand gently and trying very hard not to let his eyes fall to her cleavage. “Nice to meet you.”
Nicole stepped between them and then put a hand to Stacy’s chest, backed her gently up against the food counter, and zipped the front of her flight suit up almost to the collar. “What did I tell you about this, Stacy?” she asked calmly, as though her sister’s behavior wasn’t the least bit unexpected.
“Come on, Nicole,” Stacy replied, pushing her sister’s hands away and unzipping again, though not quite so far down as before. “These flight suits are too damn hot, and where’s the harm?” Lowering her voice to a barely audible whisper, she added, “It’s not like you don’t flash yours around whenever you want to.”
Dylan glimpsed the indignant look that flashed across Nicole’s face, then sat back down and turned his gaze to the empty chair across the table, doing his best to at least look like he was tuning out the rest of their conversation.
“Okay, folks,” Geoff said over the intercom. “Let’s go. Prepare for departure.”
“How do we prepare?” Dylan asked, glad that awkward moment had passed quickly.
“Find a chair and strap in,” Stacy told him.
“Oh.” He thought for a moment, then got up and started toward the rear.
“Where are you going?” Nicole asked.
He turned and faced her. “I think I know how to start making peace with your brother.”
“How?”
“He’s proud of this ship, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then he’ll enjoy answering some questions about it.” With that, he turned and walked to the bottom of the gangway. “Hey, Geoff,” he called.
“What?”
“Mind if I come up and watch?”
“Suit yourself.”
He ascended the stairs and found the Naku, Verdai Gen, standing behind Geoff, who was strapped into the pilot’s chair, hovering over his shoulder like an attentive instructor as he spoke to flight control.
“Affirmative, flight control,” Geoff said. “Standing by.”
“Close the floor hatch, Eric,” Verdai told Dylan. “Then you may have a seat at the table behind me and stay out of the way.”
Dylan complied, then asked, “You got a minute, Geoff?”
“About a minute,” Geoff replied, his eyes glued to his instruments. What do you want?”
“You told me this ship was modified for deep space travel. I was just curious as to what specific modifications you’ve made.”
“Okay,” he said, swinging his chair around to face his passenger as Verdai stepped aside to do the same. “As Nicole might have already told you, I didn’t make all of the modifications myself,” he began. “She came with the jump nacelles and the hard-brace pylon reinforcements already installed. I just had to wire them into the ship’s systems to make them work. I did add all the hull reinforcements though, and I’ve increased the operating output of the structural integrity field by about seventy-six percent so far, so she’s all ready to handle higher-grade jump nacelles as soon as I can afford them.”
“And I have overhauled and improved the inertia compensation field,” Verdai added, “so you do not have to worry about bouncing off the bulkheads too hard if we are forced to change course suddenly.”
“Good,” Dylan replied. “I’ve had about all the bouncing off walls I can take.”
Verdai suddenly looked confused, and he asked, “What do you mean?”
“Never mind. What else?”
“The environmental control system is brand new,” Geoff picked up again, “and my flight instruments are state-of-the-art. That’s pretty much it, except for most of the galley equipment.”
“How soon will we reach the jumpstation?”
“About twenty-five hours. Maybe twenty-six.”
“Why so long?”
“This isn’t a Federation warship, you know,” Geoff said, instantly on the defensive again. “We don’t have some massive fusion drive on this boat.”
“I was just asking, Geoff,” Dylan told him, raising his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by it. No need to...”
“Excuse me a minute,” Geoff interrupted, swinging his chair around to face front again. “This is the Star Eagle. Go ahead, flight control.” A moment passed, then, “Copy that. Clear for departure. Proceeding.”
Dylan sat back quietly to let Geoff concentrate on what he was doing, satisfied that his strategy had worked. Geoff had been ready and willing to talk to him civilly. All Dylan had had to do was demonstrate a little interest in the man’s pride and joy.
Chapter 53
Special Agent Barrett jumped and gasped, startled awake by her alarm’s shrill tone when it suddenly pierced the peaceful silence to which she had just begun to awaken on her own. She coughed softly, then rolled over onto her stomach and peered up at the clock’s blurry blue-green glow through tired eyes. She blinked a number of times to bring it into better focus. 0730 hours, she acknowledged as she reached up and tapped the button to silence the alarm. That wasn’t so bad. She usually didn’t set her alarm to go off on Sunday mornings at all, having chosen Sunday to be that one day each week when she could sleep in until she woke up on her own, but she’d taken off work most of the day Thursday and all day Friday to spend time with Ashley and help her out around her quarters however she could—she’d spent both nights with her and had stayed with her all day yesterday as well—and she’d decided to make that time up rather than burn all those hours of leave, beginning today.
She tossed her blankets aside—the room felt a little cooler than usual—sat up, and smiled with satisfaction when she dropped her feet to the floor and felt her brand new, slightly thicker and much softer carpet beneath them. It had finally been installed on Friday, but since she’d been at Ashley’s since Thursday she hadn’t seen it or felt it beneath her bare feet until she came in last night. As it turned out, the fleet had purchased enough new carpeting for all personnel quarters in the facility, so she hadn’t had to bribe any of the installers after all. Not that she had really been considering doing so. In fact, the only thing she’d had to do to get bumped up on the installation schedule was ask to be. Had she known that earlier she would have asked weeks ago. As the old saying went, the squeaky wheel had gotten the grease.
She wiggled her toes for several seconds, enjoying the carpet’s plush softness while she yawned, then stood up, reached for the ceiling, and stretched her tired muscles for all she was worth, cracking or popping every major joint she had and perhaps even a few of the minor ones as well. She’d been more than happy to spend as much as time she could with Ashley and to help her out in any way that she could, but doing so had turned out to be a lot more work than she’d bargained for. She was well on her way to a full recovery, but she still hadn’t mastered the use of her semi-biotronic hands. Hell, the poor girl couldn’t even take a shower by herself yet.
“Lights,” she muttered as she relaxed and dropped her arms to her sides, her voice a bit scratchy with its first use of the morning. The lights came up to half-intensity as
she cleared her throat. Excellent. Brand new carpet on the floor and properly adjusted lights in the ceiling. She smiled again. So far the Engineering and Maintenance folks were two for two.
She reached up to unbutton Ernesto’s pajama shirt and then remembered that she hadn’t worn it, or anything else for that matter, when her fingers found her bare chest. That’s right, she reminded herself. When she’d come back from Ashley’s last night she had decided that now that she’d moved on... now that she’d had sex and slept with another guy... she should probably stop wearing it, so she’d folded it up nice and neat and put it away in her bottom dresser drawer. She had actually thought about throwing it out, but hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to do that.
No longer having to worry about stumbling over that stack of boxes—she’d been forced to unpack the rest of her things and put them away and get rid of the boxes so the carpet could be installed—three for three—she headed into the bathroom. The lights flickered on and came up to fifty percent intensity just like those in her bedroom as she headed straight to the toilet and sat down. As she started to go, she wondered how much longer Ashley was going to need her help. She sincerely didn’t mind giving it—days, weeks, even months if necessary, she’d be there for her friend and partner—but at the same time it did force her to alter her daily routine, and that was, admittedly, a little annoying.
She finished going and then got up and stepped over to the sink to brush her teeth. She’d promised Ashley that she would return to help her take a shower again this morning, which essentially meant that they were going to shower together again, so when she finished brushing her teeth she didn’t bother taking a shower for the time being and instead went back into her bedroom. First, she double-checked her overnight bag to make sure she hadn’t missed anything when she emptied it of everything she’d worn over the last few days last night. Then she threw some clean underclothes and socks into it for afterwards. Finally, she went to her closet and pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, then clipped her badge and gun on over her waistband, slipped on her sneakers, and pulled on her jacket, flipping her hair out from inside the collar as she left her quarters.
