I couldn’t meet her eyes for long, and I looked at our hands twined together. “I hardly know. Everything is different, for a lot of reasons, but now it looks like I’m going to have to be the main attraction for some kind of freak show.”
She shook her head. “You’re not a freak. You’re a hero.”
“But everyone died.”
“Not on the ships that rescued you.” She was quiet for a moment, then said, “I knew a bunch of sailors that died out there. But I also know a bunch that are there right now, and because of what you did, I’m pretty sure they’re coming back. That’s not nothing.”
When I didn’t respond, she wrapped her arms around me, and at first I tensed up. But soon I had relaxed into the embrace, and just tried not to think while the tears rolled down my face. I ignored them, but Katy didn’t. She wiped them off, and then wiped her hand on her leg. It made me laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
I wanted to explain, but I was afraid it would come out wrong. So I gestured to the damp spot on her leg and said, “You’re not much of a girly girl, are you?”
“I’m a Seabee,” she said. “And an electronics tech to boot. So no, not really.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I blushed as soon as I said it, and then felt a bit of panic when she pulled back a bit. “I’m sorry, I’m just being dumb.”
She laughed, but it faded into a sympathetic smile when I pulled back. “I forget you're not a native spacer.”
“I'm missing something again, aren't I?”
“Pretty much.” She took a deep breath and said, “People don't really have boyfriends or girlfriends out here. Not like you might think.”
I shook my head. “Explain it to the dumb Earth boy, would you?”
“Most sailors move around a lot. And are gone a lot. And all that kind of stuff...” She gave me a lopsided grin. “It's not that easy to maintain a relationship out here. But we're only human, so of course we try. It's just not that easy, that's all.”
“So this... thing between us?”
“I don’t know where it's going,” she said. “But I want to find out.”
I took her hands again. “When I was out there, by myself, wondering what death was going to feel like, it was you that gave me reason to live.” I leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Thank you.”
She smiled, and kissed me back. We did that some more, and I thought things were going nicely until my tablet buzzed. I looked down, and it was a message from Yeoman Meyers. She could read it, too, and I said, “When will I see you again?”
“We’ll work something out,” she said, and the smile she gave me was very feminine indeed. And made my heart race.
I pulled my calendar, and saw lots of things filled in that I didn’t recognize. So it was my turn to say, “Crap.”
“It’s okay,” she said as we walked out. “It looks like it’s not all work. One of the things I saw on there is the big cotillion coming up.”
“Are you going to be there?”
She laughed. “I don’t think so. Enlisted types hardly ever go to those, and Seabees even less.”
Meyers was waiting for me, and though he probably knew what had been happening, he didn't show any indication one way or another. He greeted Katy by saying, “CE2 Panetta. Very nice to meet you.”
She just nodded, and I said to him, “Are you setting my schedule?”
“For the next few days,” he said.
“Is there a time I can come back here?”
He shook his head. “Not when Panetta is free, no.”
“Oh.” I sounded depressed even to myself.
“But I have set up a social that both of you will attend next week.”
“Excellent!” Katy and I said almost simultaneously.
He didn’t even crack a smile, but I swear he was laughing at my reaction. “I thought that might work,” he said dryly.
My quarters ended up being in the single male enlisted barracks. It sounds like a mouthful, but the off-duty areas had some pretty strict divisions. It started with civilian or military, then continued into married or single, enlisted or officer, and male or female. Shipboard berthing was a lot easier to figure out, but Meyers led me down to a small room with two bunks, a desk with a monitor, and a stand up wardrobe.
“Who will I be rooming with?” I asked as I looked in the locker and found a couple of coveralls, stenciled with my name and the pins already on.
“Just you,” Meyers said. “I will be right next door if you need me, however. And I would advise you not to wander off. The station is as secure as we can make it, but there are a lot of civilians—and reporters—around, and I cannot guarantee they all see you the way we do.”
“We?”
“The Navy.” He watched me as I looked around. “The admiral wants me to tell you that the miners have put a price on your head for what you did to Juno.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? That’s all you have to say?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what else to say. I don’t feel like a wanted man any more than I feel like a hero.”
Meyers shook his head. “Take an hour or so to rest. We still have several other appointments, and then drinks at 1700.”
“Thank you.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you.”
I just sat there after he left, trying not to think about anything. It wasn’t meditation, exactly, but I did it a lot of that over the next few months whenever I got time to myself. And they scheduled it in, a couple of times a day. I don’t know who made that call, but I will be eternally gratefully to them. But right then, I just tried to fight off the feeling of isolation and terror that threatened to overwhelm me. It took a few minutes to recognize that as much as all the people around me was freaking me out, being alone was just as terrifying. Yeah, surviving was going to be hell.
Chapter 2
I got to the Bottoms right at 1700 thanks to Meyers. I hesitated before walking in the door, though, and he asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Negative,” I said. “Just steeling myself for seeing my friends.”
“Don’t you like them?” he asked.
“They’re great,” I said. “Just a little, um…”
“Hey look! It’s the boy in the bubble!” Hernanadez began weaving his way through the crowd, beer in hand, grinning widely.
“Intense?” Meyers said.
“Yeah, a little.”
Then Hernandez got to us, and I was lifted and spun around in a bear hug. I could feel my ribs creak, but I felt well loved, too. Hernandez set me down and looked me over. “Man, you are the luckiest squid alive. I hear you got it all done without a scratch.”
“None that are visible,” I said.
He nodded sagely. “That’s where the booze comes in. What’ll you have?”
“Something with a kick.”
He grinned deviously. He dragged me to the bar, and set me on a stool. “My friend here would like a Martian brandy. What about your shadow there?”
Meyers said, “Just a soda would be great.”
“Sure, someone’s gotta stay sober.”
“What about you?” I said. “What do you want?”
“This beer is pretty good so far.” He looked behind me. “Hey guys! Look, he made it!”
I turned and got handshakes and back slaps from McNamara and Green. Both said it was good to see me, and while not as exuberant as Hernandez, still made me feel like an old friend. Pretty impressive for a group of guys who only met me once before.
I got the bartenders attention. “These three can have whatever they want, on me. And everyone else can have beer on me till I leave.”
He could read my rate as well as everyone else, and said, “Need to run it first.” He held out a small tablet. I swiped mine across it, and he looked at a few screens. “Looks like you guys can go all night.”
“And you know we will!” Hernanadez said.
I know that I had never been as drunk
as I was that night, and I don't think I have been since, either. I think I spent a whole month's pay, too, but I really didn't care. Hernandez, McNamara and Green made sure that I was well hydrated, but also well shielded from the press of everyone who I helped to intoxicate. It looked like a party, but they had my back. It meant a lot to me.
Meyers also had my back. He made sure I made it back to my bunk, and even fitted me with a drunk mask. Okay, that's not its official name, but it's what we all call it. Officially, it's the Foreign Matter Exhalant Kit, and it keeps you from either drowning in your own puke or waking up with it all around you in the air. Very important in space, and especially important for me. I don't get hangovers, but I do get violently ill, with everything coming up through my mouth and nose together. I kinda wish I just got the hangover.
Meyers woke me promptly at 0600 the next morning, and said I had a full day ahead of me. He also whistled a lot while I dragged my sorry carcass out of my rack. He only stopped when he realized it didn't bother me, but I still felt pretty miserable with only a few hours sleep and a belly that felt raw and hungry at the same time. Protein drinks helped, but after breakfast Meyers led me out into the station, and I all I wanted was a nap.
The first stop was to get fitted for a Dress Uniform. We still have the old dress blues in space, with the thirteen button pants, pullover top, neckerchief and dixie cup hat. There are some modifications to make it a bit more space friendly, like having Velcro releases for the pants (seriously, thirteen buttons is a lot to get done or undone at the best of times), and special catches for emergency air helmets. Otherwise, staring into the mirror looked a lot like staring at old pictures of my grandpa.
Along with the standard gear, I also got fitted for Underwood gloves. I know they aren’t very common on Earth, but nobody goes to a formal shindig of any sort without them in space. Mine looked like fine leather, and hugged my wrist and forearm, though outwardly they flared like old cavalry gloves. But the feedback mechanism has to be fine-tuned for your particular physiology, and that took an hour.
We were just finishing up when Meyers’ tablet beeped, and he looked at the incoming message and grunted. “You’ve been invited to have dinner with Henendez’s family, and a few others. Tonight, and it’s been approved.”
“Is that unusual?”
“It usually takes some finessing,” Meyers explained. “They don’t normally let single guys in the family areas, and vice versa. It’s not unheard of, but it usually takes weeks to get approved.”
“Why so long?”
“Vetting,” Meyers said. “They talk to a lot of people to make sure that you’re not some kind of pervert.”
“So they deny most sailors?”
“Something like that,” Meyers said drily. “That’ll be at 1800. Right now, get your coveralls back on. It’s time for you to meet IS1 Galloway.”
The name meant nothing, and the only IS guy I had ever met was my Grandpa. It stands for Information Specialist, and covers journalists at least. But I didn’t know much about the rating otherwise.
We found Galloway in a studio control room, surrounded by monitors and keyboards, and overlooking what I guessed was some kind of sound stage. He was a lanky redheaded guy, with a nose like a beak and a pair of thick headphones on. And when Meyers tapped him on the shoulder he held up a finger. His brow creased, his fingers danced across the screen in front of him, and his foot tapped intermittently. Finally he sighed and took off the headset, rubbing at his ears. “You must be Wright,” he said, shaking my hand.
“Yep,” I responded. “That’s me.”
“Good. Tell me your story.”
“What, the whole thing?” I said.
He cracked a grin, but just barely. “Start with Juno. From when the main fleet first reached it. That seems like a good spot, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” I said. So I started talking, and it took me a good thirty minutes to go through it all. Meyers excused himself about halfway through, but Galloway just watched me intently the whole time. When I finished, he sighed.
“Not the worst I ever heard, but we have a lot of work to do,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
Galloway sat back. “Dude, you are the most famous man in the solar system. I’ve got a hundred requests for interviews, and that’s just the big ones. But there’s no way in hell that we’re going to let you represent the Navy if you’re not prepared. Meyers and I are going to guide you through this, and get you to the point that you can hold your own with an interviewer without embarrassing yourself, us, or the Admiral.”
“And that means working on my story?”
“Nah, the gist of it is fine,” Galloway said. “It’s the presentation that needs work. Try going through it again without sounding like your soul is dead.”
I tried to do what he said, but it felt weird, like I was talking about someone else.
“Better,” he said. “But still you go flat right there in the middle…”
“You mean the part where everyone dies?”
He nodded, but not unsympathetically. “I know this is hard for you. This type of thing is hard for anyone. I’ve talked to SEALs who watched their buddies blown apart in front of them, and a mother whose son was killed in action a half billion miles away from her. Death is hard, but surviving is sometimes even harder.”
“And what do you tell those people?” I asked.
“The same thing I’m telling you: practice saying the words. The pain may not fade, but you can learn to tell the story without reliving the pain every time. And the stories are damned important.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“That’s a start. But for now, it’s lunchtime. Let’s head to the mess decks, and we’ll talk some more.”
Galloway had been in for ten years, and had heard more sea stories than anyone I ever met. He gave me a smattering of them as we ate, and even Meyers told one. But as much as Galloway talked, it felt like it was a show, something to get me to trust him.
“What’s the most bizarre the thing you ever did?” I asked him as we were finishing up.
He pushed back from the table and said, “Me, myself? Hmm, that’s a tough one…”
“Come on,” I pressed. “All these stories from other people, but you got nothing of your own?”
He shrugged. “They’re just not as impressive.”
“Try me.”
“Okay,” he said, leaning forward. “My last duty station, about two years ago, was on the moon. New Washington, the largest colony. I actually worked on the space elevator anchor above, but most of us commuted down to the surface. The moon is like that. Anyway, we had a kid working in our department, an E nothing just getting his career going. Decent enough, worked hard, stayed out of trouble. And then one morning, completely missed muster. We called his wife, and she said he had gone to the bar the night before and never came home. Long story short, it turned out she had gotten him drunk and shoved him out an airlock without a steel suit.”
“She murdered him?” I said.
“Yep. Pretty cold about it, too. We got the report about a week later, and the MP’s on the case said she denied everything right up until the point where they showed her some video of it. Then they said she cursed a few times before going completely silent. But that kind of silence where it felt like she was plotting something, you know?”
“Creepy.”
“Aye that. But here’s the kicker: our work center supe had to inform his next of kin, and he took me along with him. And the guy’s next of kin was his wife. So we went to the brig, and informed this woman that her husband had died.”
“What did she do?”
“She grinned.” Galloway shuddered. “I mean, we had joked about it on the way down, how maybe we should say, ‘Congratulations you succeeded’ or something like that, but no, we followed the official script, and just said ‘We regret to inform you that your husband has passed away’. But that grin… man, you would have thought we h
ad said she had done a good job. Very self-satisfied.”
I whistled. “That’s a good one alright. What about you, Meyers?”
He just smiled. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time. You’ve got to get you back to the studio, and I have some other business I have to take care of.”
“We’ll get him next time,” Galloway said.
Meyers just gave us that smile of his, and left. When he was out of sight, Galloway said, “So how are you getting along with Stone Face there?”
“Is that what they call him?”
“Oh yeah.” Galloway gathered up his trash. “If he cracks a grin, it’s like a guffaw from most people.”
“I guess he finds me pretty hilarious then,” I said as we took our stuff to the trash chute. “I’ve seen him grin a dozen times or more in the last day.”
“Damn, that many?” Galloway said. “He must like you a lot or something.”
“What did you call him?” I said. “Stone Face? It fits. I hardly ever know what to make of him.”
Galloway led me back to his space. After the door closed, he sat me down and said, “Meyers and I are assigned to you for the time being, so I’ll tell you something that not a lot of people know. He’s a survivor, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.” Galloway put his headphones around his neck and sat back. “Did you ever here about the attack on Eros a year or so ago?”
“I was there just after it happened,” I said.
“Okay, so you know what a mess it was.”
I thought back to what seemed like a lifetime ago. “The main bomb went off in one of the malls, didn’t it? And then there were a couple of smaller ones that went off in more, ah, structurally sensitive areas. That’s what I worked on cleaning up.”
“You got it,” Galloway said. “Meyers was at the mall when it happened. Him and a group of friends, and they were pretty near the epicenter. Five squids, out cruising for girls, and only he survived, thanks to the fact that his buddies inadvertently shielded him. That’s his story.”
“Holy crap,” I said.
“No shit,” Galloway said. “I understand he was more outgoing before it all happened, but all I know is that he never talks about it. Or much else that isn’t official business. The admiral trusts him and listens to him, though, so don’t tick him off.”
Till the Conflict Is Over Page 2
