by Astrid Amara
“You sure?” Cruz said in a low voice.
Tover waited to feel the rising swell of nausea, but none came. He nodded. “I can do it, as long as I have my hands. Don’t strap me down.”
“Will it still work?” Lalo asked. The rest of the men gathered round the seat as Tover flicked on switches and powered on the speakers.
Tover then crawled beneath the navigation console and disconnected the biofeed from the cuffs. He rewired them together so they weren’t getting a blank signal. “Now it will.” He tried to keep the resentment from his voice. He’d looked up that particular hack the day before, appalled that all it would have taken is one small alteration on the navport to make his life that much easier.
But that had never been the point of using navigators, had it?
He checked that the amplification system was set to move the ship itself and not separate cargo, then turned to Cruz. “Where do you want to go?”
“Where can we go?” Feo asked, looking at the panel like it were some ancient treasure.
Tover checked the amplification capacity of the ship. It was far better than the Jarrow ship, and his mouth curled into a smile. “Anywhere. Well, anywhere in CTASA holdings at least.”
Lalo grinned. “How about Adelaide?” He glanced over to Cruz. “It’s a remote outpost. We could hide there for a day or two until the PKs give up the search for us. Then we can dock it in the hangars at Marisma del Norte.”
Cruz nodded. Tover grabbed hold of the helmet.
“Do you need a star chart?” Lalo asked.
Tover rolled his eyes. “Come on! Fucking strap in!”
“Let’s go, go!” Feo ordered the men around the ship. “If we’re going to do this without being caught we gotta do it now.”
Cruz hovered near Tover, glaring at the rest of the men.
“You gonna be my navboy?” Tover asked with a smirk. He acted cocky but he was pale, and Cruz saw it.
“Always got to be a fucking hero,” Cruz whispered. He took a seat nearby.
Tover hooked closed the clasp of the helmet. He gripped hold of the mouthpiece. It was cold but clean.
The mouthpiece stung cold as Tover stuck it down his throat, but there was no instant gag reflex. His hands twitched at his sides. He could always take the helmet off, he reminded himself. He was free. He could take it off.
He closed his eyes and listened. The vibrations sang. He belted out a response. It wasn’t loud but it was pure. The entire ship punched through space.
Adelaide was deep in an area patchy with nebulae and loose space debris. He could sense them like scratches on the surface of polished gold. He pushed through, popped them in low orbit above the outer station and yanked out the mouthpiece, the metallic taste foul in his mouth.
There was a stunned silence on board as the men stared out the bridge windows in surprise. Tover reckoned none other than Cruz had jumped by orbifold before.
“Fuck me!” Feo stared at the orbiting station in shock. “Fuck me!”
Everyone broke into applause. Unlike the ritual back at DK Station, this felt genuine, and Tover smiled, having forgotten the warmth of honest praise. Lalo’s open admiration glowed in his young eyes. Even Cruz, colder than the rest, face usually blank of emotion, looked fierce and proud.
“No wonder the Arlandians kicked our ass,” Lalo said. “You moved a million pounds with your mind, amigo.”
“Can they trace us?” Feo asked.
“Not effectively.” Tover’s voice sounded raspy and raw.
“I removed the tracer tag,” Cruz told him. He turned to Tover. “You okay?”
“Need water,” Tover growled.
Cruz left to fetch water from the galley, while Lalo checked his wristpad.
“No one has noticed the missing vessel yet,” he reported.
“We haven’t affected the investigation, though, have we?” Feo asked.
Lalo shook his head. “The guard’s going to tell them some kids took the old man’s cruiser for a joyride.” He grinned. “Who would have guessed we’d have a navigator with us?”
Tover suspected someone might. Eventually someone at Harmony could put two and two together—Cruz’s absence, Tover’s disappearance, and hunt them down. Harmony had its hands full at the moment with the Carida scandal, but once that died down, it would be possible to find Tover again. They’d done it before.
Tover wasn’t safe, nor would he ever be. But he had an army backing him up, a cause he believed in, and most importantly, a life partner, someone who made the frightening realities of the future a little less daunting.
The water Cruz fetched for him was brackish from the system iron, but it helped the burn. Tover sat beside Cruz and looked back at the navport.
Pride radiated out of him as he did. He jumped. And he didn’t throw up afterward. As long as it was his call, he could still use his powers. It made him grin and grab Cruz’s hand. It felt odd doing so in front of other men, so publicly, but then Cruz closed the distance and kissed him. Tover laughed against Cruz’s cold lips. Cruz reached down to Tover’s crotch, and someone in the back grumbled about perverts and someone else told them to get a fucking room.
Tover didn’t care. He was a navigator.
“I’m serious this time,” Cruz whispered. He caressed Tover’s rough cheek. “My fucking hero.”
“I know how you can pay me back,” Tover suggested, eyebrow lifting.
Cruz grinned. “Galaxy’s best blow job?”
“Am I that easy to read?”
“Tover, you love four things. Food, soccer, birds and fucking.”
“Five things,” Tover corrected. “You.”
Acknowledgement
A thank-you is owed to my friends and writing companions, Ginn Hale and Nicole Kimberling, without whom Carida and Dadelus-Kaku Station wouldn’t exist.
This story was originally designed to be part of a shared-world anthology written by the three of us, each with our own novella. We started designing the CTASA colonies, and Carida, together one year at a conference. As it happened, my idea came first and I worked on it while they were busy with other projects. As time went on, it became clear it would be some time before they could ever complete their stories set in this world. My story also grew in scale to the point that it was no longer just a short novella about a navigator with Stockholm Syndrome as originally intended—it became a full-length novel of its own. Hence I set about publishing it separately.
But fear not! There is always a possibility that one of these days, the story of Carida and the residents of DK Station will continue, courtesy of Kimberling and Hale. (But don’t pressure them too hard, you’ll get me in trouble.)
About the Author
Astrid Amara has lived in Maidenhead, England, Jerusalem, Israel, and Bukhara, Uzbekistan, but settled in Bellingham, Washington in the United States because she distrusts the sun. She is a former Peace Corps Volunteer and an advocate for animal rights. By day she is a bureaucrat working for The Man. At night, however, she’s either writing, riding her horse, or spending her time with her husband, two goats, and three dogs.
She is the author of over sixteen gay speculative or contemporary romance novels, including The Archer’s Heart, which was a finalist for the Lambda Literary Award.
More details and contact information are on her website: www.astridamara.com.
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They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Song of the Navigator
Copyright © 2015 by Astrid Amara
ISBN: 978-1-61922-862-7
Edited by Anne Scott
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: May 2015
www.samhainpublishing.com
