Breach of Containment

by Elizabeth Bonesteel

  It was not, Jessica thought, an awful idea. Before he’d come aboard Galileo, she’d never have considered Herrod a diplomat, although she recognized that was mostly because he’d never had to be tactful with her. Recently, though, she had decided the role suited him: he read people extremely well, and he seemed to know instinctively when to behave with sympathy, whatever he might really be thinking.

  Greg, it seemed, thought the same; he nodded. “Very well. I’ll be in the infirmary with Goldjani. Let me know what you hear from them. And, Admiral—thank you for your help down there.”

  That had cost Greg something, but Herrod just arched an eyebrow at him. “I could hardly sit back and do nothing, now could I?” He nodded at Jessica. “Commander Lockwood.” And he left the landing bay.

  Jessica gave Greg an inquiring look, and he shrugged. “He held off the attackers,” he told her. “From inside Sparrow, but still. Freed us up to do what needed doing. He was a genuine help.”

  Despite her approval of Herrod’s diplomatic abilities, she still knew too much about him to trust his motives. She couldn’t keep the acid out of her voice when she responded. “Could you maybe go on a flight once in your life without getting shot at?”

  “They weren’t shooting at us, really,” he told her. “It’s pretty much devolved down there. Budapest was set up from the start.”

  Not my point, she thought, but she knew him well enough to let it go. “How’s the kid?”

  “Bad.”

  Minutes later the med team emerged with a boy on an anti-grav stretcher. His brown skin had alarming undertones of gray, but his eyes, as they swept over the storage bay, were alert and shiny. He met Jessica’s eyes and blinked, then turned away self-consciously. Lucid, then, she thought. It wasn’t a guarantee of anything, but it was not a terrible sign.

  After him, dressed in a civilian env suit and covered in dust and something that smelled far worse, came Elena.

  Her expression was drawn and anxious, and her appearance was uncharacteristically unkempt. Strands of hair had escaped from a loose braid and were hanging over her face, covered in the same red dust; but through the grime Jessica could see streaks of bright blue interwoven with her natural dark locks. A genetic graft, too; the color went down to the roots, and would grow like that until she changed it. It was a pretty color, Jessica thought, but the fact of it bothered her. Artificial hair color was a nod to civilian conformity. For Elena, it seemed like defeat.

  “Is it that bad?”

  Jessica realized she had been staring. She met her friend’s eyes, and suddenly none of it mattered, and she flung her arms around Elena, standing on her toes so she could give her tall friend a proper hug. Elena hugged her back. “You look just the same, Jessie,” she said.

  Jessica pulled away, aware she was now covered in the same muck Elena was. “You stink,” she said. “And no, the color’s not bad at all. Why blue?”

  “It cheers me up,” Elena said. Her smile was wan, and Jessica realized she was worried.

  “You want to follow your friend to the infirmary?”

  “And get away from the landing bay. Bear will be here any minute, and I can’t take him yelling at me just yet.”

  “It’s not your fault the kid decided to follow you.”

  She felt Greg move to stand next to her, and Elena’s eyes shifted to meet the captain’s. “I think that’s a matter of opinion,” she said, and she sounded tired.

  “He’s awake and alert,” Greg told her quietly. “That’s a good sign.”

  Which meant, Jessica realized, that Greg was worried about the boy as well.

  The three of them headed for the infirmary. Jessica walked between them, half an eye on Elena. This was the first time her friend had been on board Galileo in eighteen months. Jessica had imagined the reunion a dozen times, and it had never been like this: Elena filthy and dispirited, barely noticing the clean, bright halls of her former home. She wouldn’t be staying, either, Jessica realized; this would only be a visit.

  Maybe being home doesn’t mean that much to her after all. Given how long Elena had been away, the idea stung more than Jessica thought it would.

  Bob Hastings, Galileo’s chief of medicine, was waiting for them and had the med scanner out as the medics shifted the boy to one of the infirmary beds. The doctor frowned at the readout, then waved them away. “Ten minutes,” he told them. His blue eyes swept over Elena. “You. Stay close by. You don’t look so good, either.”

  Elena looked as if she wanted to protest, but she hung back, her miserable eyes on Arin. The boy wouldn’t look at her.

  “Come on,” Greg said, his voice gentle. “Bob will take care of him.”

  Jessica tried to catch Bob’s eye as they left, but his expression was grim and focused. Jessica looked down at Arin and made herself smile reassuringly. “Lousy bedside manner,” she told him, “but he’ll look after you.”

  Damned if the kid didn’t smile back.

  Once they were outside, Jessica couldn’t wait any longer. “What happened?”

  “He stowed away and hid,” Elena said simply. “And when we crashed, nothing in the shuttle was secured. All the cargo landed on him.”

  “After they shot at you,” Jessica pointed out. “Elena—”

  “Don’t tell me it wasn’t my fault.”

  “Of course it’s not!” Jessica’s temper flared. “How the hell could it be? Nineteen years old is grown-up on every damn colony we’ve got. And he knew how to secure himself on that ship, stowaway or not. Bob will fix him,” she said, “and then you can yell at him for being a stupid ass.”

  “Where’s my boy?”

  Jessica started; they should have been warned when Bear Savosky arrived, but she supposed he was too well-known to the crew for anyone to think of him as a guest. Normally Bear was relaxed and smiling, his massive bulk comfortable rather than a threat. But now he radiated rage and fear, and all of his ire was directed at Elena.

  Who inexplicably didn’t defend herself. “Bob’s looking after him,” Elena said. “He should be out soon.”

  Bear took two steps toward the main infirmary, then turned and paced back toward the door. He stopped to tower over Elena. “How did he get down there without anyone knowing it?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. He must have slipped between the cargo containers.”

  “You didn’t pick up the weight discrepancy?”

  “I didn’t weigh them before I left. I was thinking about how to get them off the shuttle without getting shot down.”

  “And you fucked that up, too, didn’t you?”

  At that, Greg spoke up. “Savosky—” he began, but Bear turned on him instead.

  “She is not yours to defend anymore, Foster, so stay the fuck out of this.” Greg didn’t react, and Jessica realized with some surprise that he was deferring to Elena’s current commanding officer. Not the time, Greg, she tried to tell him with a glare, but he wouldn’t look at her.

  Savosky turned back to Elena. “I warned you about that boy. I told you he idolized you, and that he’d follow you anywhere. And now he’s in there with some old quack, and you’re looking at me like he’s already dead and you’re trying to figure out how to weasel out of all of this.”

  At last Elena got angry. “That’s not fair!” she shouted. “I never wanted him to do this! I told him he needed to be sensible, to learn good judgment, to—”

  “To do whatever was necessary to get into the Corps?” Bear shouted. “How the fuck could he understand what that really means? Arin sees you, and Captain Perfect, and the pretty little redhead, and he thinks it’s like the vids he’s watched since he was a kid. He’s nineteen, and he thinks he’s going to live fucking forever, and you stand there telling me about judgment? You remember why the Corps doesn’t take anyone under twenty-two, don’t you?”

  For Jessica, that was enough. “Bear.” She said his name quietly.

  He turned to her, glowering, radiating fury. “What?”

 
; “Stop yelling in the infirmary,” she said simply.

  He glared, and loomed, and waited for her to say something else, and she just looked at him.

  And then, silent, he turned and stomped out of the room.

  Jessica looked back at Greg, and this time he met her eyes. Play nice, she thought at him, and by the exasperated look he gave her, she thought he understood. Then she turned and went after Bear.

  He had moved partway down the hallway, as if he were removing the temptation to barge back into the infirmary, and was pacing back and forth. Galileo’s hallways were wide and tall, but Savosky made every ordinary space seem smaller. He looked up as she approached, and frowned. “Don’t start on me, Lockwood,” he said. “You know I’m right. She shouldn’t have been encouraging him.”

  “You think that’s what’s behind this?”

  “Of course it is!” He looked away and began pacing again. “Ever since we left Earth she’s been talking up the goddamned Corps, telling that kid how good he’d be, all the travel he could do, all the fucking adventures. Is this a fucking adventure, Lockwood? Getting shot down and watching a bunch of colonists kill each other? That boy’s nineteen, and she could have ended his life today! She—”

  “That’s enough!” Jessica had never been patient with denial. “You’re blaming Elena for all of this? You brought her along because she was Corps! You threw her at this conflict—when you knew they might be attacking—because of her background, because she is what she is! You stand there shouting because she’s exactly what you knew her to be, what you’re using her for, and you’re blaming her for your own fuckups!”

  “I did not make that kid think he could be a hero!”

  “What difference does that make?” She knew he knew it, but he was too frightened to admit it yet. “He’s your responsibility, Bear. Your crew. It was on you to make sure he was where you assigned him. You knew he wanted to follow her down—you should have made sure he didn’t!” He turned away, but she wasn’t finished. “And by the way, maybe you should have been making that kid think he could be a hero. You think he follows her around because she’s got a nice ass? He follows her around because she’s telling him he can be more than what he is, than what everybody’s told him he could be his whole life! You’re his family, Bear. You should be telling him all that, and if you’re not? It’s your own damn fault if he doesn’t do what you tell him to do!”

  “He is a child!”

  “Not anymore, he’s not,” she said, more calmly. “He’s not grown yet, but he’s not a child. And you can’t treat him like one just because you’re afraid for him.”

  “And what the hell do you know about being afraid? You’ve got no children, have you, Lockwood?”

  And at that, she truly lost her temper. “Are we playing who’s seen the most death, Savosky? Because I’m the oldest of eighteen children. And do you know how many of us are still around? Four. No, I’m not a parent. But don’t you dare tell me I don’t know how it feels to be helpless when someone you love is hurt, because I will put you off this ship myself!”

  He looked enraged, and opened his mouth; and then he turned to the corridor wall and swore for a long time. When he finally stopped, his fists had fallen open, and he seemed less enormous.

  “He was thirteen when we adopted him,” he told her. “So hesitant. It took Yuri three weeks to get him to tell us what he liked to eat. We found out after he’d been with us a year that he’d been hoarding the allowance we gave him because he wasn’t sure when we’d ask for it back, or when we’d want something from him that he couldn’t give us. He didn’t trust us. He didn’t trust that we loved him. He didn’t think anyone ever had. I promised—” He broke off, and took a breath. “I promised I would never let anything hurt him. And this, Lockwood. This. All I would have had to do was verify where he was before we left Budapest. It would have taken three seconds. It’s not like I didn’t have any warning that he’d do something like this.”

  “You can’t stop him from having a life, Bear,” she told him. “And you can’t stop him from getting older, or doing dumbass things while he’s figuring out what kind of a person he wants to be.”

  “It’s impossible,” he told her, “living like this. How do you love someone, and watch them take risks like that? How do you just stand aside while they throw themselves into the void?”

  Oh, Bear. “You do it,” she said, “because the alternative is never loving anyone. And most of us, thank every god you can think of, cannot survive like that.”

  He turned toward her. “You’ve lost a lot of family.”

  “I have.”

  “I’m an ass.”

  “You bet.”

  At that he broke into a surprised grin, then sobered. “I apologize, Lockwood. I’m not at my best right now.”

  Instinctively she reached out, placing her hand over his massive forearm. “Don’t apologize, Bear,” she told him. “You’re terrified. You get dispensation for pretty much anything. And all I can tell you is Hastings is the best fucking doctor in the Corps, and Arin is conscious and lucid. Both of these are good things.”

  “There are days I think having a kid was the worst idea I’ve ever had,” he admitted.

  “My aunts always said the same thing,” she told him.

  Another flash of a grin, and then his eyes fell closed, and she did her best to embrace his bulk, the dust and filth of Elena’s env suit between them.

  Chapter 9

  “It’s not your fault, Elena.”

  She had dropped into a chair after Bear left, exhausted and helpless, vaguely aware of the state of her appearance. She should find somewhere to wash up, clean off some of the stench, find something else to wear. There would be clothes in the gym she could borrow, maybe even something without a Corps logo on it. She should go after Bear and let him keep yelling at her; she knew him well enough to know he would need to yell until he wound down. Then she thought of Jessica with him, and decided he might wind down on his own. Bear was no match for her friend.

  “You can’t know that,” she told Greg. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen her with Arin for six weeks, so grateful to have found someone who saw her life in the Corps as something other than some violent, incomprehensible part of her history. She’d been flattered. She’d felt a little less lonely. And she’d come close to getting him killed.

  But Greg just looked surprised. “Of course I can. Savosky’s the captain of that ship, civilian or no. It was his responsibility to make sure his people were at their posts going into this thing.” He was staring at her, his gray eyes clear, as if he believed it.

  “Arin’s been following me around the whole time, Greg,” she confessed. “Wanting to hear about the Corps. Looking for stories of glory. I fed him all kinds of crap. I even started training with him, telling him he could get in if he wanted.”

  “From what I saw today,” Greg told her, “he probably could. He kept a level head, which is saying something in that fucking mess.”

  “But—” He was doing what she had been doing: thinking about it from the wrong direction. “He’s a civilian, Greg. There was no way I could make him understand the reality of it all. I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have shoved him away. The last thing I should have done is encourage him to see the Corps as an option.”

  “Is that what Savosky told you?”

  “I—don’t you think he’s right?”

  Something flashed across his face: annoyance, she thought, or maybe anger. But when he spoke, his voice was soft. “I don’t think you really believe that, Elena,” he told her. “Savosky’s a civilian, too. He doesn’t understand.”

  “He understands Arin better than I do.”

  “Do you think so?” He was watching her, those incisive eyes studying her face. “Do you remember nineteen?”

  She thought back. She had been in college, serious and single-minded, eyes on one thing and one thing only: doing well enough so she would be accepted at Central Military Academy
, to fulfill the only dream she had ever had. She had been humorless, fatalistic, and invincible. “I was an idiot,” she confessed.

  A smile rippled over his lips. “Me too. And if anybody had tried to tell me anything—never mind my dad—I’d have dug in my heels and done exactly the opposite. What happened on Govi, Elena?”

  She rubbed her eyes. “That one was definitely my fault. We’d found this lifeboat, with seven people, and they were fucking freezing and scared as hell, and there were waves coming in. So I had Arin fly low, and I took a net cable, and I dove into the ocean to hook them so we could pick them up.”

  He stared. “You dove into the ocean.”

  “Yes.”

  “The freezing, toxic one.”

  “That’s the only one that was there, Greg,” she said irritably.

  And then, to her surprise, he laughed, and sat back, and she thought she caught something resembling affection in his eyes. “No wonder Savosky’s been short with you. He must have thought you’d lost your mind.”

  “I couldn’t leave them, Greg. I—”

  “I know, Elena. And if he’d asked me before you guys hit Govi, I would have told him exactly what would happen.” He grew more serious and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Here’s what I think happened today: I think Savosky fucked up. I think this kid is better at subterfuge than anybody thought. And I think you would have had to lock him in a cargo hold to keep him away from that moon. He’s lucky he was with you. I’m guessing it took some flying to keep that bird from shattering on the way down.”

  She hadn’t thought about it. She had flown the way she always did. “He shouldn’t have had to see what he saw today,” she said, clinging to her guilt.

  And Greg’s gray eyes grew somber, and she saw grief, deep and familiar. She always forgot how much grief he carried with him, all the time. “Nobody should have to see what he saw today.”

  “You know,” she said, careful and uncertain, “it wasn’t your fault, either. Yakutsk is Yakutsk. You got here as quickly as you could.”