He looked back and forth between her and Grace and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to people sneaking up on me in my sleep.”
Davey tapped the IV pole with his foot. “This might have something to do with that.”
Matthew rubbed his face. Abigail had never seen him looking so miserable. It was probably just now beginning to dawn on him how long the recovery was going to be. “Can we do anything to make you more comfortable?” she asked.
“Either rewind time to give me a do-over or fast forward it.” He sighed. “Sorry, I’m being an ungrateful cur. My mother told me what you all did for me and I certainly won’t ever be able to repay you. It was crazy to try frame-skipping just because Benny had read about his favorite racing team doing it.” He trailed off and looked away. “But thank you.”
Abigail opened her mouth to respond, but Davey beat her to it. “No way. This doesn’t even get close to making us even. I think I speak for everyone when I say you’ve turned our lives around. Mine anyway. Uh... So rest up. We need you back.”
Abigail clapped Davey on the back. “I didn’t know you did sappy so well. It suits you better than surly.” His face turned deep crimson and they all laughed. At least until Matthew winced and gripped his sides. They sobered up quickly. “No one say anything funny,” she chided.
“Then bore me with business,” Matthew said. “Did you find our bikes?”
In their hurry to get off Mars, there had been no hope of retrieving either Matthew’s bike or Abigail’s. She’d spent nearly an entire day sending messages to various government offices in Arizona, trying to get any information.
“That’s probably not going to be a very happy subject,” Grace warned.
He grunted. “Seems appropriate. Let me have it.”
Abigail twiddled her thumbs. “After a few inquiries, we found my bike. It got towed for illegal parking. I paid the ticket, but it’s still in impound, probably stacking up more fees. I’m trying to figure out who I can ask to go pick it up for me.” She’d been relieved. Her oversized bike had been a custom job and wasn’t something they could afford to replace.
“Despite money not growing on trees,” he said. “That’s not too bad. I’m guessing you’re about to follow up with worse news.”
“Your bike is gone. Probably stolen. No one has seen it. Probably never will.”
She watched his face closely. Outside of his lip twitching twice, he made no response for fully half a minute. Finally, he half shrugged. “Davey, I’ll be borrowing Vanquisher the next time I need to go out.”
Davey’s mouth dropped open. “Hey now. Let’s talk about this before—”
“Tell you what. You pay to keep that tank full, and we’ll let you ride it.” Grace said. “Deal?”
“Not a chance,” Matthew said. “I warned you two when you bought it that you’d regret how much fuel it would drink.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “Say. Grace, pass the remote.” She frowned as he flipped through the hospital’s meager selection of channels.
“Are you looking for something,” Abigail asked, puzzled at the out of character behavior.
“Only my childhood.”
She turned to the screen. “Qash Quiz Qlub? What is this? Some kind of old game show? That’s a terrible name.”
“Local show out of Arizona. Watched it growing up. Well, my dad and I did. My mother thought it was a waste of time. I figured out a couple days ago that the hospital plays episodes in the afternoon. I bet I can beat all three of you combined.”
She raised an eyebrow, not one to back down from competition. “If that’s what you want. You’re on.”
“He’s going to roast us,” Davey warned, pinching the bridge of his nose, and despite knowing that he was probably right, Abigail wasn’t going to be deterred.
It wasn’t even close. Even on painkillers, Matthew’s encyclopedic knowledge was enough to give them a thrashing. So much so that she began to wonder if he actually remembered the answers from his childhood. Still, she wouldn’t have traded the afternoon for anything. She couldn’t remember the last time the crew had had so much fun together.
A WEEK LATER, WHEN Bishop Elias returned to Antioch, he took Candace and Benny with him. Benny was itching to get set up and back to his career. He’d been struggling to find peace and quiet to work uninterrupted in the visiting dignitary suite the Vatican had set the crew up in and had been slipping back to the empty Sparrow every morning since they had arrived.
“When Matthew is able,” Elias had said, “come and spend some time at Antioch. You have friends and loved ones anxious to see you.”
“I’m sure we’ll swing by,” Yvonne said, her mind already trying to plot three steps ahead. It was going to be more complicated than just taking some time off, regardless of what everyone else wanted. “I think the Vatican docs will want to keep him for a good while. He’ll have some rehabilitation too.”
“Yes, I was afraid of that,” he said. “Still, I am thankful to the maker of all good things that Matthew survived. And in such a near-miraculous fashion. Abigail tells me that the Sparrow’s frameshift device has been ‘cooked to a crisp’ as she put it.”
“We’ll have to go easy on it,” she agreed. “The lattices are brittle as toffee. Another burnout would crack them and we’d be stranded.” And if that had happened on their trip to Ganymede, Matthew would have died. No question.
After he left, Yvonne called a meeting with the crew. Elizabeth was with Matthew, so it was just Davey, Grace, and Abigail. It was peaceful again after all the extra faces. The others waited patiently in their suite’s sitting area as she paced, deciding best how to begin.
“The calendar hasn’t stopped,” she said finally. “We’re eating into our cash reserves, even while grounded. And we’re behind schedule on recruitment for the guild.”
“We have to head back out,” Davey said. “I was afraid of that.”
“We can’t just leave Matthew here alone,” Abigail said.
Yvonne crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t think being left in the care of his own mother qualified as alone, but if you disagree, speak your piece.”
Abigail rubbed the back of her head. “Right, well, what do you propose then?”
“We’ll make short cargo runs around the Jupiter neighborhood and contact the crews Matthew has already pegged for recruitment. If we stay close, we can stop by if we’re needed.”
“Do you think they’ll buy into it without Matthew?” Grace asked.
“We’ll find out. Some may need additional encouragement when he’s mobile. Abigail is well enough known by this point that she may provide all the assurance they need.”
Abigail grumbled something, and Grace shook her head. “You weren’t going to get to stay here, you know. Look, Yvonne. Let me stay to help keep Elizabeth company. I’ll just be taking up space on these kinds of jobs. And if whoever it is that wants Matthew dead figures out where he’s hiding, I’ll be there to smash them.”
Yvonne resumed her pacing. There probably wouldn’t be any harm in Grace remaining behind, plus they’d be in and out over the next several weeks so they could always swing through and pick her up. “Okay. I doubt there will be any danger here with the Swiss Guard keeping so close an eye on him, but I can see the sense in you staying behind. For now.” She ignored Abigail as she wrinkled her nose in disappointment. She was pretty attached to Matthew these days, but it wasn’t like the duo would be out shaking up the solar system anytime soon, regardless.
“I’m sure you’ve talked to Matthew about this already,” Davey said.
“This morning, yes. And Benny should have us a cargo run by tomorrow. Most of the crews we’re recruiting in this phase are ground-based, and without ships, they’ll be easy to meet up with. We won’t be chasing them down.”
Abigail shook her head. “I still can’t believe you’re charging headfirst into guild recruitment so soon.”
Yvonne frowned. “We have prior commitments and the mea
ns to fulfill them. If you disagree, you can take it up with Matthew.”
“I don’t think he’s in the best condition to be making decisions right now.”
Yvonne sucked in a breath and planted her feet. “Which is why I made them and then confirmed them with Matthew.”
Abigail took a step toward her. She towered over Yvonne. “You’ll forgive me if I have some doubts about your judgment these days.”
The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees. “Excuse me?”
“Maybe you should tell us about that deleted file.”
Through sheer force of will, Yvonne didn’t physically react. “What are you talking about?”
“You know damn well.” She had taken another step forward.
Davey appeared between them. “Cut it out. Both of you.” Yvonne glared daggers at him, but he didn’t flinch. “Abigail, back off. Yvonne, what is she talking about?”
“I told you, I don’t...” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I don’t have time for this. I have to make sure the Sparrow is ready for flight.” She stormed out of the sitting room and down the staircase, feeling the steady drumming of her heart. She wouldn’t tell them. It wasn’t their business. It had been her right to pull that trigger, and no one was going to tell her otherwise.
Only now she would never escape the questions.
FOR MATTHEW, THE DAYS in the hospital dragged on intolerably, one much the same as the rest. Especially after the Sparrow took off for Callisto and he was left with just his mother and Grace. They soon fell into a routine. His mother, being an early riser from years on the farm, would spend the mornings with him. Grace, never giving up a chance to sleep in, showed up around lunch and stuck around long into the evening.
For Matthew, his recovery was far too slow. It started with agonizingly painful walks through hospital halls, IV tower in tow. While Grace and his mother seemed to get excited over the tiniest improvement, he was less than impressed. Worst of all was that infernal contraption they made him breathe through to gauge his lung capacity. Apparently small children had tougher lungs than he did right now or at the very least teenage girls. To his absolute horror, Grace procured one of the devices herself.
“A little competition won’t hurt you, will it?” she said.
“You’re getting me confused with Abigail.”
“And you’re losing.”
He scowled and put the tube in his mouth to try again. She still beat him.
It was strange knowing that the Sparrow was away on business taking jobs without him. The daily updates from Yvonne were brief and to the point. “Rasheed has agreed to join the Lanterns. Delivery went according to plan.” Sometimes he got near hourly updates from Abigail, mostly short and clearly aimed at keeping him entertained while recovering, but occasionally there were long diatribes about how Yvonne would barely look at her, let alone speak to her. He’d heard about their tense standoff a week ago. Everyone had reported back on it, except Yvonne. Matthew never thought he’d see the day when Davey would be the peacemaker, but he and Yvonne had apparently switched places.
And for the first time, Matthew was at a loss about what to do for his crew member. Figuratively, he’d worn a lot of different hats since they’d come on board. Captain, partner, friend, father figure. But what hat could he wear for Yvonne? She’d hardened a spiny shell around herself. And he’d come to the conclusion that, in all likelihood, he wouldn’t be the one to crack it.
All he could do was pray.
One evening, after a typically unsatisfying hospital dinner of overcooked particle meat, dry mashed potatoes, and mushy green beans, he and Grace sat up talking. “Did I tell you that I met the pope this morning?” he asked. “He came here with half the Swiss Guard in escort.”
She flicked a lock of hair out of her eyes from where she sat on the corner of the bed. “We all met him last week.”
“Huh,” he said. “No one told me about that.”
“We weren’t sure if you were going to be upset or jealous.”
He laughed. At least that was starting to hurt less. “I may have been a little disappointed. But he is just a man. An important one, but a man none-the-less.”
“Do you know what he said about you?” Grace asked. That gave him pause. Pope Willems had been polite and thoughtful but had neither said much nor stayed long once they had finished their business. She continued. “He said that you might just be the most important man alive, what with Ceres and now the Guild.”
Matthew’s mouth went dry as the arid Martian wastes. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“That’s what I said.”
He stared at her in horror. “You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.”
She winked. “Abigail’s right. It’s way too easy to freak you out.”
“He’s right, you know,” a third voice said from across the room. Whitaker. “Though by those metrics, I’d surely rank as well.”
Grace just about fell off the bed, but recovered and had her arm extended, most likely ready to thrash the man into oblivion if he so much as looked at them wrong. “You know,” Matthew said. “If you’d knocked, I would have said to come in. I hope you haven’t hurt my guards outside the door.”
“They’re fine, fit, and doing their job.”
In hindsight, Matthew realized the door was still closed. Whitaker’s little disappearing trick could either move him through solid matter or he’d been in the room for some time already. “Well, you’re here. And you always want something. So go ahead. A relic of Moses? You should know I’m a little indisposed right now.”
Whitaker’s lip curled. “Your guess is as good as mine as to where the last Anemoi piece lies hidden. No, truth be told I was in the area and wanted to see how you were doing.”
Grace snorted and Matthew just raised an eyebrow.
“Why is it so hard to believe that I’m actually invested in your well-being?” Whitaker asked.
“Maybe because you sold my colony into slavery, left me in the wastes of Io for dead, and have been a thorn in my crew’s side for two years now. Doesn’t seem a controversial position to take in my eye.”
“You know that saying of yours. Iron sharpens iron, does it not? You’re a stronger man for my meddling ways.”
“What about the others that have suffered?” Matthew said.
“And here surfaces our age-old argument on the degree to which utilitarianism is moral. Let’s not bore Grace on grounds we’ve already staked out.”
“Too late,” she said, giving him her well-honed death glare.
“If looks could kill,” he said before turning his attention back to Matthew. “I’m sorry about what happened to you. I have some theories about who was behind the attack and I’m having my contacts on Mars look into it. Rest assured, they won’t get another shot at you.”
Normally Matthew would refuse any help from Whitaker, and yet... And yet how was he supposed to protect his crew from an assassin? “I’d appreciate that,” he said, crossing his arms. “Would those be the same contacts you used to help convince President Barclay to invade Kyoto?”
“One and the same, actually, though again you overstate my influence. Barclay was more than prepared to secure the Kyoto factory without my aid, but I’m privy enough to how the board is stacked to grease the wheels a little. Our mutual friend Logan could strike at any time, and he’ll have a much harder time of it now.”
“And I suppose the Phobos Platform was your idea as well?”
Whitaker hesitated for the briefest moment. It was one of the few times Matthew had ever seen his characteristic overconfidence evaporate into thin air. Maybe it really all was just a performance. “No,” he said. “I’m less keen on that one, though I’ve been aware of the project for some time.”
Matthew shook his head. “And the thought hasn’t crossed your mind that instead of calming the waters, you’d just help drive the colonies closer to war? That there’s a giant gun pointed at most of Mars, inclu
ding the factory that’s essential to the survival of humanity.”
“It’s not online yet,” Whitaker said sharply. “And there’s more at stake than you realize. If half of Mars is allied against Kyoto, then the other half is talking quietly about supporting them. The factory needed protecting and I won’t apologize for ensuring that happened. But if the invasion tarried too long, then Kyoto would have had allies leap to their defense and brought war to the red planet.”
“That may still happen.”
“It might,” Whitaker conceded. “But at least it’s not assured this way.”
“You’re too rash in your prognostications.”
“You have to be if you don’t want to spend your life second guessing every decision. About Phobos, if I can’t get the project scuttled, then I’ll at least be sure it’s as well defended as the factory itself. I promise.”
“Not another Ceres,” Matthew warned.
“Agreed.” Whitaker tipped his hat to them. “And I’ll see what I can do about that assassin. With that, I’ll bid you a goodnight.” As expected, he was gone in an instant.
Matthew turned to the door. It remained shut. “Grace, do me a favor and run around the room with your arms extended.” She looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Just trust me.”
She shrugged and obeyed. It was a small room and in less than three seconds, it happened. Whitaker appeared, arms in front of him to keep Grace from bowling over him. She squeaked and jumped back, eyes wide.
Whitaker tipped his hat to Matthew. “Clever. You outplayed me that time.” He placed a hand on the door and pulled it open, disappearing in the same motion.
Two startled swiss guardsmen ran into the room. “Was someone just in here?” Are you alright?”
Matthew smiled and leaned back in the uncomfortable hospital bed, hands behind his head, turning over what he’d just learned. “Everything is just fine.”
MILENA DRUGOVA RUBBED her hands together. She sat in the back of a grav car driven by a chauffeur who had yet to say a word. Pretty typical for a government job on the hush. She wasn’t sure it was all that good an idea for a Rossiyan citizen to work for Kyoto’s government, given the current political climate. There was a century old treaty and a factory dividing them at the moment.
After Moses: Wormwood Page 24
