by Joe Vasicek
“I copy,” said Jeremiah, adjusting his course. “Lots of traffic today, eh?”
The operator didn’t answer. That was the thing about the larger settlements—they lacked the personal touch that gave the more distant outposts character. Still, there were benefits to visiting such a large and well-developed station: prices tended to fluctuate less, and suppliers tended to be more diverse, especially for the manufactured goods that were in such high demand throughout the Outworlds. For a station as large as this one, though, it was unusual for them not to have room for a one-man freighter as small as the Ariadne.
Jeremiah skimmed over a handful of news forums on the local planetnet to see what was going on. The most prominent threads had to do with a major labor union deal; good for business, certainly, but it had little bearing on system traffic. Mirzana, the innermost planet, was experiencing a seasonal migration as its orbit grazed the sun. But Oriana Station was more of a way-point for starfarers than a major in-system hub. There had to be another reason for the delay.
The sound of soft footsteps made him turn and glance over his shoulder. Noemi stood in the cockpit doorway, slipping her arm through the sleeve of one of his jumpsuits. She pulled it over her bare shoulders and zipped it only halfway up, as if the clothing was little more than an afterthought. The gesture reminded him of the intimacy they’d shared over the past three months in deep space. Her tousled brown hair had grown a couple inches and now covered her slender shoulders, curling up a little at the ends.
As Jeremiah smiled back at her, she frowned and pointed out the forward window. He turned and caught his breath as an enormous starship passed between them and the station. It was flat and roughly diamond shaped, with a massive spherical protrusion in the back near its engines. Judging from the scanners, it must have been at least two kilometers long.
Only Gaian Imperial battleships were so large.
“Attention Ariadne,” cackled the operator’s voice. “You are cleared to dock at bay 27A. Please proceed.”
I guess that was the hold up, Jeremiah thought to himself as he eased forward on the controls. The battleship must have just undocked from the station’s central hub—not an easy feat for a ship that size.
But what were the Imperials doing this far out from the Coreward Stars? Had there been some kind of an invasion? Alpha Oriana was technically independent, but that didn’t mean it was strong enough to stand up to Imperial aggression. The lack of any real discussion on the news forums either meant that it wasn’t an issue, or that the authorities had silenced any public discussion.
Not that it made much of a difference. After refitting the Ariadne and making their trades, they’d soon be off to the next system.
“Jerem-ahra Noemi home?” Noemi asked, pointing to the massive twin wheels of Oriana Station as it grew steadily nearer. Her question puzzled him at first, until he realized she was asking if they were going to settle there.
“No, Noemi,” he said. “This isn’t our home.”
She frowned and pointed again. “No home?”
“No,” he said, pointing back through the doorway to the cabin. “The Ariadne is our home.”
From the way she scrunched her face, it was clear she did not approve.
“Don’t worry—I need some time to refit the drive systems and fix a few aging parts. We’ll stay here for at least a couple of weeks, perhaps longer.”
Noemi offered no sign that she’d understood him. He turned back to the controls, carefully negotiating the approach to the docking nodes along the outside rim of the station. Whatever she thought of the starfaring lifestyle, he’d have to deal with it later.
Something told him he didn’t have much time.
* * * * *
“Jeremiah Edeni?”
At the mention of his name, Jeremiah stopped and spun around to see who had called him. The station’s bustling business district teemed with people, nearly overwhelming him, but amid the flood of strangers he soon picked out a familiar face.
“Samson!” he shouted, running up to meet his old friend. Noemi followed close behind, holding tightly to his hand so as not to be swept away by the crowd.
Samson laughed heartily and gave him a friendly embrace. “Ah, Jeremiah, fancy meeting you here. I just sold a shipment of lumber for a tidy profit, and it made me think of those stories you used to tell me of your birth world. How goes the trading?”
At almost six and a half feet, with broad shoulders and a bright red beard, Samson easily stood out among the smaller dark-haired locals. But even if that weren’t the case, his loud voice and jovial demeanor were enough to set him apart almost anywhere.
“Well enough, I suppose,” said Jeremiah. “I’ve got no complaints.”
“I see. And who’s the girl?”
Samson gave Noemi a smile, but she shrank and took Jeremiah’s arm without saying a word.
“This is Noemi, my, ah—my girl. We got together only a short while ago.”
“Very nice, very nice. Care for a bite?”
“Sure.”
He led them to a café just outside the district’s main square, where the overhead skylights gave them a magnificent view of space. After spending so much time in the narrow cabin of the Ariadne, it was a shock to be surrounded by so much wide, open space—not to mention all the people. The café was almost as busy as the square, but they managed to find a table in the back that was fairly secluded. Jeremiah let Noemi into the booth first, while Samson took the seat opposite from them.
“This place is pretty good,” said Samson, leaning heavily on the polished basalt tabletop. “I’ve closed a lot of deals here, and picked up a few passengers as well.”
“Interesting. I didn’t know the Starflight had that much room.”
“It didn’t. I sold her and bought an upgrade.”
Jeremaih blinked and did a double-take. “You did?”
“Sure.”
“But—but wasn’t that your father’s ship?”
“Of course,” said Samson, “but can you blame me for wanting a new one? Not that the Starflight II is a luxury liner. Barely carries the same cargo load, with enough extra room for only a girl or two—but that’s room enough, right?”
He winked knowingly, making Jeremiah blush. From the earliest days they’d known each other, Samson had always had a way of saying things that made him feel slightly inadequate. His friend had originally been something of a peer mentor, back when he was just started out and didn’t know the first thing about making trades. That was all different now, of course, but there was still that tension—that sense that he didn’t have nearly as much knowledge or experience as his friend.
Fortunately, the waitress chose that moment to walk up to them, saving him from having to come up with a response.
“What’ll it be?” she asked in heavily accented Gaian.
“One coffee, extra black,” said Samson, “with a shot of Orianan vodka on the side.”
“An’ you?” she asked, turning to Jeremiah.
“Two fruit cocktails, virgin please.”
She nodded and walked off. Noemi watched her go, biting her lip as if unsure of this place. Under the table, Jeremiah put a hand on her knee to reassure her.
“You’re sure that’s what she wants?” Samson asked.
“I think so, yeah.”
“Not even going to ask?”
Jeremiah swallowed. “I, ah, can’t.”
“Can’t?”
“I don’t speak her language.”
Samson stared at him for a moment, a wide grin slowly spreading across his face.
“You finally got a girl, and you don’t even speak the same language? Oh, this is rich. Where did you pick her up?”
“Delta Oriana,” said Jeremiah. “There was a famine on Megiddo Station, and I, ah, rescued her from it.”
“Well that makes you a proper hero now, doesn’t it?”
The waitress came back with their drinks. Without a word, she set them down on the table and took
off to help another customer. Samson took his vodka and poured it into the steaming hot coffee, stirring it in with his straw.
“So are you going to leave her here?”
“Leave her?” said Jeremiah, passing Noemi her fruit cocktail. She took it eagerly and began to eat it with her spoon.
“You heard me. Or do you plan on settling down?”
“Er, no,” said Jeremiah. “We’re not ready to settle down just yet.” He glanced at his cocktail. Chunks of pineapple, strawberry, mango, and some sort of white fruit indigenous to the Oriana cluster floated about in a thick yellow mix of icy juice. He lifted it to his lips and took a drink. Next to him, Noemi got a sheepish look on her face and set down her spoon to do the same.
“Exactly. So if you aren’t settling down, I imagine you’re planning to leave her here at Oriana Station while you make your next trade run.”
“Well—actually, I thought it might be better to take her with me.”
Samson raised an eyebrow. “On the Ariadne?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you serious? That starship isn’t big enough for a rat to stow away on, much less a girl.”
Jeremiah shifted nervously, unsure what to say. He wanted to object, but Samson seemed absolutely certain that it was a bad idea. And honestly, now that he and Noemi were in port for the first time since leaving Megiddo Station, he had no idea what he was supposed to do.
Samson set down his coffee and looked him in the eye. “Here’s what I think you should do: sell your cargo, then use the profits to buy your girl a nice apartment. It doesn’t have to be that expensive—you’re just starting out, after all—but once you’ve made a killing on a good trade, you’ll be able to give her an upgrade.”
“I don’t know,” said Jeremiah, remembering Noemi’s message to him through the dream simulator. “Something tells me she won’t be as happy here by herself.”
“Sure she will. I’ve got almost a dozen girls between here and the New Pleiades, and they’re all doing just fine.”
Jeremiah nearly choked. “A dozen girls?”
“That’s right.”
“How—how did you find them all?”
Samson threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, Jeremiah, you should see the look on your face right now. You always were a shy one around the ladies. If you would just open up and seize the day, though, you wouldn’t have any problems in that department—though it certainly helps when you’ve got a double bunk on your ship, with room on the bottom bunk for two.”
He laughed again and slapped the table, turning the heads of some of the nearby patrons. Noemi giggled, though it was clear from the blank expression on her face that she had no idea what they were talking about. Jeremiah managed a weak grin, but inwardly, his stomach did a nervous flip.
“Look,” said Samson, getting serious again. “I’m telling you, this is the best way to go. You’d be crazy to take her on the Ariadne—frankly, I’m surprised you’ve made it this far. And don’t worry about her missing you. She’s not a pet, after all—she can take care of herself.”
Jeremiah shifted uncomfortably and glanced over at Noemi. Not for the first time, he wished he could talk with her—both to explain things and to get her point of view. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think she’d like the idea of staying behind without him.
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Why not?” Samson asked, taking another sip of his spiked coffee.
Because she needs me.
“Well, for starters, she thinks we’re married—and after all that’s happened, we might as well be. If I left her now …” It would be too much like abandoning her.
Samson looked at him as if he’d grown a third arm in the middle of his forehead. “Married? Are you serious?”
Jeremiah took a deep breath and swallowed.
“Yes.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“It’s … a long story.”
“Look,” said Samson, “you can’t afford to let yourself get tied down to a woman like that. If you do, she’ll just want to possess you—to put limits on where you can go and what you can do.”
“But—but she needs me.” And I need her.
“Look, I’m not saying you should abandon her—I’m just saying you shouldn’t let yourself get tied down. You don’t have to be her husband to be her man.”
Jeremiah frowned. Next to him, Noemi set down her glass and gave him a funny look, as if to ask what was the matter. He wondered what she’d say if she knew what they were talking about.
“Doesn’t that seem … a bit unfaithful, though?”
Samson chuckled. “‘Unfaithful’—what does that word even mean? I take good care of my girls: I pay for their living space, I support them while I’m gone, and whenever I’m in port, I spend all my time exclusively with them. Does that mean I’m unfaithful if I take another girl at some faraway star?”
“No,” Jeremiah said automatically, shaking his head. The last thing he wanted was to get into a personal argument with his friend.
Samson finished off the last of the coffee and set down the cup with a flourish. “Some of my girls have the same misgivings that you do, and they like to play petty games whenever I’m with them. That’s just the way women are. Doesn’t bother me, so long as I can possess my own self in peace.”
Jeremiah didn’t know what to say to that. He glanced over at Noemi, who returned his attention with a smile. She seemed so innocent and trusting—not at all like the possessive kind of woman Samson had described. But then he remembered the look on her face when he’d told her that Oriana Station wasn’t going to be their home. What if his friend was right?
“Are you sure I can’t just take her with me?” he asked. “I mean, she doesn’t have a home anymore—she’s a wanderer too.”
“Doesn’t matter. All women want stability: that’s just how they’re hardwired. Eventually, the starfaring lifestyle will get to be too much for her.”
“But can’t we make it work out for just a little while longer?”
Samson groaned and shook his head. “Look, what do you really have to offer? Your ship is too small for the both of you, and you sure as hell don’t have room for a baby. You’re constantly on the move, wandering from star to star—the only way to give her any stability at all is to leave her at one.”
“But—but how can I leave her here when she doesn’t even speak the language?” Jeremiah asked, grasping for objections.
“No problem,” said Samson. “You said she’s Deltan? There are plenty of immigrant communities on the lower levels—it shouldn’t be hard to find someone from her home world who’s subletting. Leave her with them and she’ll feel right at home.”
Jeremiah’s heart sank. He tried to come up with a smart response, but had to admit that his friend had a point. Noemi had already been through so much, leaving her family and knowing that she’d never see them again. The way she’d been forced to surrender herself to the mercy of a complete stranger—even if it had worked out, she’d be far better off among her own people than she’d ever be with him.
“It’s all for the best, really,” said Samson, patting his arm. “She’ll still be your girl—and you’ll be free to come and go as you please.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re not abandoning her—lots of other star wanderers do it this way.”
“They do?”
“Sure. There’s nothing wrong with it. Just think of it as something you have to do—for her.”
“For her,” said Jeremiah. He glanced at Noemi as she finished off the last of her cocktail, totally oblivious to their conversation. “Maybe you’re right.”
* * * * *
Jeremiah’s heart beat a little faster as he led Noemi down the narrow, windowless corridor deep into the bowels of Oriana Station. The air down here was slightly thicker than the main concourse, the gravity stronger due to the increased distance from the hub. Noemi seem
ed to be taking it in stride, but she glanced at him questioningly every few minutes, making him wish that he had some way to tell her what was going on.
He reached into the pocket of his jumpsuit and absent-mindedly fingered the datachip with the credits from the recent sale of his cargo. He’d done surprisingly well, making more than enough from the Chondarrian coffee to refit the Ariadne and fill his hold with Alphan electronics. With the leftover cash, he could easily set Noemi up in a decent sublet for the next couple of months. How to explain that to her, though—that was the part that he dreaded.
“Are we even in the right place?” he asked aloud, reverting to his nervous habit of talking to himself. The corridor was surprisingly empty—the ceiling lights flickered a few yards away, and the air smelled faintly of bleach. Noemi put her hand on his arm as if to reassure him, but he ignored the gesture.
“583c—this is it,” he said, stepping up to a door with the number stenciled in black on its surface. He keyed the doorbell, and quick footsteps sounded through the thin metal door.
It soon hissed open, revealing a low-ceiling entryway with at least a dozen pairs of shoes lined up against the wall. A young girl with jet-black hair stood in front of him, dressed in dark pants and a sleeveless blouse. She was about Noemi’s age and height, though her figure was a bit more developed.
“Welcome!” she said, smiling cheerfully. “Please, come in!”
As Jeremiah stepped inside, the smell of incense exploded in his nose like a solar flare. He took a deep breath and followed the girl into a modest living room, with old, faded couches lining the wall. A stained-glass lamp, obviously an heirloom, hung from the ceiling, while an authentic wooden table sat on top of a colorful rug not unlike the one at Noemi’s home on Megiddo Station. A gilded icon hung prominently on the far wall, with half a dozen unlit candles on a table beneath it.
Noemi’s eyes lit up almost immediately. She posed a question to the black-haired girl, and a smile spread across her face as the girl answered in her native Deltan. Within moments, they were chatting as happily as long lost sisters.
