by Dana Kelly
“Then maybe I didn’t completely miss my chance after all,” said Orin
“Not completely,” said April, and she closed her eyes as Orin leaned close. She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him lower, and he held her gently by the waist. She felt his body tremble. Her heart raced as she waited for his lips to touch hers, and her breath stilled as she sensed his body heat.
Orin exhaled and withdrew. “Uh, do you know what happened to the boxers I was wearing before we crossed back?”
She groaned. “Orin, what’s wrong?”
He stepped back, looking dejected. “It’s just that the last person I got involved with started out as a work friend, and if we’re going into business together, I don’t want things to turn terrible between us if we break up.” He grimaced. “Could you imagine our fights?”
She studied him for a moment. “Hm. You see, that sounds reasonable, but that’s not why you’re reluctant. Is it?”
Orin looked away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Except for this one time,” she said.
He quickly shook his head. “No, it’s just… It’s just that our connection is so strong, all I needed to do was think of you, and I projected to you! I’m still learning what I can do, and I’d die inside if something happened to you because of me. So, I’m not saying no, just…”
“Not right now,” she said.
Orin nodded. “Right.”
April crossed her arms and gazed up at him. “Now, that seems reasonable. I’m disappointed of course, but I’m willing to wait for you to figure things out.” She nudged him playfully. “For a little while, at least.”
“April, I…” Orin put his hands in his pockets. “I’m dying to know what happened to my boxers.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please! Well, I advised sleeping naked for a reason.”
“You did, but I’m modest, and I’ve never been comfortable with that,” said Orin.
April looked at him with disbelief. “Two weeks ago, we danced in nothing but my bathrobe!”
“True, but in my defense, I didn’t realize I was naked until Malmoradan pointed it out,” said Orin. “You can’t hold that against me.”
“Except that we did for almost five minutes,” she said, and she sighed. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see what happens to your boxers.”
“I can’t be the first binary that chose not to strip down,” he said.
“Oh no, many others have done exactly as you have—and some with far more clothing, too,” said April. “In fact, there’s a t-net personality that makes all their money on selling whatever comes out on the other side. As I understand it, the fates of all transition clothing are as varied as the individuals who wear them.”
He smelled himself, and he sniffed his clothes. “Last question, then. Why don’t I stink?”
“It doesn’t need to be the last question. I was hoping you might join me for a cup of joe before the rest of the ship wakes up.” She indicated the passageway.
“I’m more of a hot chocolate kind of guy.”
“Have you ever tried mixing the two?” she asked.
Orin stared, aghast. “What a horrible waste of hot chocolate! Who would ever do such a thing?”
“Lots of people,” said April. “They’re called mochaccinos, and they’re quite good. Come on, I’ll make you one.”
“I guess I can try it,” he said. “Give me a minute to send a message to my dad and my sister. The last time they saw me was when I projected from the nightmare, and since we’re locked out of the t-net in there, they’ve probably spent the past two weeks worried sick about me.”
“Be smart about it,” said April. “MABAS is going to be tracking your accounts.”
“I know,” said Orin, and he sat down at his desk. He searched for an image of the Orinoco river basin on Earth, stored it, and took a moment to create an anonymous profile. He addressed Oliver and Eridani and attached the image. In the message body, he typed, “I am okay,” and he sent it.
Orin smiled slightly and got back to his feet. “Okay, now we can go,” he said, and he closed the door behind him.
As they walked, she tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced his way. “As to your question about why neither you nor your clothes stink, it’s because when you’re in the nightmare, your primary state exists outside the flow of space and time.”
“So, we’re the same coming out as we were going in?” asked Orin.
“That’s right,” said April. “We’re exactly the same.”
“That’s so cool!”
April smiled. “And as you may have already surmised, the same is true for your nightmare state, except for your clothes because they’re made of primary matter.”
“That makes sense,” said Orin.
The chow hall’s overhead lamp flickered on as they stepped onto the deck, and they crossed into the galley. April guided him to the compartment where Cajun kept the beverage materials. Stooping low, she passed Orin pouches of coffee, hot chocolate, cream, and sugary syrup. She stood up and turned to face him. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” said Orin. He set down the pouches and raised his hand, summoning an aura of blue fire. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m really looking forward to getting Nimbus back.”
“I’m very much looking forward to meeting him in person,” said April, and she switched on the enclosed brewer. She placed a plastic cup within and inserted the pouches into a topside loader. “Orin, whatever else is going on between us, I’m here to listen. I want you to know that.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he said. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
The machine beeped, and she pushed the off button. “Here we go.” She presented his drink with flourish.
Taking it up, he closed his eyes. Cautiously, he sipped. With a smile and a nod, he said, “I can see the appeal.” He leaned back against the counter, and she soon joined him, sipping her own cup of coffee.
“What’s troubling you?” she asked.
“I miss Nimbus,” he said. “I’m worried sick about Torsha, my sister, and my parents. So many people died on Rocksaugh, and that haunts me.” He chuckled dryly. “And I’m really depressed about losing my scholarship at New Cal. How stupid is that?”
April slipped her fingers between his and squeezed. “It’s not stupid at all. It meant a lot to you, and I’m sure it was one of the positive anchors of your old life. If you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear more about Torsha and your family. Talking about them might help you remember their strengths, and that might ease your anxiety a bit.”
“Okay, let’s try it,” said Orin. “Did I ever tell you about the first time we went to Nostromo’s?” He shared stories about his loved ones, and April leaned against him as they talked.
In time, the interior lights brightened, and the ship’s complement soon gathered on the mess deck. “There ya are,” said Cajun, and he hugged April. “You two stay put now, ya hear? This here’s my breakfast to make.” He busied himself in the galley before crossing back to the chow hall, where he set down bottles of maple syrup, pouches of liquid brown sugar, and a round of oatmeal.
Mike scooted close to Shona. “So, is there a name for Cajun’s traditional post-nightmare oatmeal?”
“Oatmeal,” said Shona, and she laughed. “It’s just oatmeal. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Mike, and he blushed slightly. “When we crossed into the nightmare… The jambalaya… Never mind.” After a moment, he reached for the brown sugar.
“Oh, right,” said Shona, and she stole a kiss. “I don’t know if everyone would be happy about eating jambalaya for breakfast, though.”
“No, I meant—”
Shona stole another kiss, and she beamed. “I know what you meant.”
Mike kissed her lovingly. “There. Now it’s special,” he said. “Thanks to the aftertaste of my mouthwash, your oatmeal’s going to be minty fresh.”
“Gros
s,” she grumbled, and she chuckled. “Mike, that’s gross.”
April emerged from the galley, and her comrades joyfully welcomed her back into their company. Amidst laughter and chatter, Orin took a seat next to her. She cherished his company as they dined.
◆◆◆
Three days passed, and Casey sat alone on the bridge. She stared at the viewscreen. Ringed with the smoke of industry, Arsenal Bay lingered, a hazy orb of shattered sunglow on a bed of dark gray-blue. According to the scans, there were two dozen population towers on the planet’s surface and one-third as many space stations in orbit.
Before long, her bridge crew filed in and took their seats at their stations.
“Morning, Captain,” said Edison. “Happy New Year’s Eve, everyone.”
Casey looked his way. “Same to you.”
“We’re early,” said Krané, and he yawned.
Casey eyed him sidelong. “By two hours. I’d hardly call that early.”
“I beg to differ,” said Cajun. “Seein’ as how I don’t start up mornin’ chow for another hour!”
“Ja, und an extra hour of sleep vould haf been nice,” said Sturmhardt.
“You’ve gotten lazy,” said Shulana. “Guess who’s getting up early with me for the next week?”
Sturmhardt groaned and drooped over her station. “Kapitänin, how could you promote zis ogre?”
Casey chuckled. “All right everyone, look sharp. It occurred to me there’s a good chance the people down there may be eager to transit off world. It’s likely that certain parties will track us to wherever we set down and attempt to bargain or strong-arm us into providing transportation services. I expect it’ll get ugly unless we have a plan.”
“The folk down there, they ain’t so desperate as that,” said Cajun. “Despite Malmoradan’s maintainin’ that nullies are all indentured and barren urchins, his is a limited-experience opinion o’ privilege, him bein’ ocelini and all. On my walk, I found nullies to be a salty, rugged bunch, and it ain’t exactly like they’ve never seen a starship. The space stations send food down in shuttles on the regular. Plus, if any of ‘em punches out early, they lose their share o’ the profits, whatever comes from this site. I garrontee ya, ain’t none of ‘em endured the extremes of Arsenal Bay just to give up that money.”
“Oh,” said Casey. “Remind me to consult you first regarding countdown planets.”
“Ça c’est bon. Ain’t exactly come up before, seein’ as how this is our first trip to a countdown planet together, and Malmoradan’s notoriously good at diggin’ up or just knowin’ the word on the street.”
“How do you recommend we proceed?” asked Casey.
“Spikes are sealed affairs, so we ain’t gettin’ in but one of two ways,” said Cajun. “Breachin’, which would be as difficult as it is depraved, or settin’ down inside, which means the loadin’ platform. Takin’ our shuttle down might bewilder the locals, so seems to me we should consider catchin’ a ride, maybe with the delivery shuttle from Hector’s space station.”
Sturmhardt gasped. “He owns his own space station?”
“No ma’am, he does not,” said Cajun, “And to clarify, each spike gets their supplies from one station, which is shared between three or four spikes, dependin’ on logistics. Said station in turn recycles the waste they send back for re-issue.”
“You’re only talking about zee garbage, ja?” asked Sturmhardt.
Slowly, Cajun shook his head, and he grinned. “No ma’am, I am not.”
“All the waste?” asked Krané.
“Not all,” said Cajun. “Some waste—namely the liquid variety—gets reclaimed on the surface. Now, before anyone here bursts from sheer disgust, suppose those space stations were covered in greenhouses. Even then, ya think they’d make enough food for so many for ten years?”
“No, I suppose not,” said Krané.
“It’s an elegant system,” said Edison. “If you don’t think too hard about it.”
“If zey offer me any food, I’m saying no. I von’t even be polite about it,” said Sturmhardt.
Cajun laughed. “I’ll remind ya ‘bout that when the hunger gets bad.”
“We’ll be bringing our own rations,” said Casey. “None of us here is accustomed to eating recycled food, and I don’t want anyone getting sick. Sturmhardt, you and Shulana won’t need to worry about it, since you’ll be staying up here with the ship. Cajun, catching a ride with the local supply drop sounds like a good plan. Work with Edison to get me the right space station. Both of you meet me in the hangar bay at oh-six hundred. Krané, you have the conn while we’re away. I’ll rally our guests.”
◆◆◆
Casey’s team gathered round the shuttle’s side airlock, as Shulana and Ikunku packed and loaded their supplies. Casey regarded Orin and Mike. “April, Malmoradan, and Shona have already agreed to do this as contractors, but that’s not something either of you can do, unfortunately. Mike, since you won’t surrender Nimbus into our care—which I get—that means the only way you guys can join us is if I temporarily deputize you both. Are you willing to take the oath?”
“I’m Falcon, not Planetian,” said Mike. “How would that work?”
“Why do so many people assume the Interstellar Police Force is part of the United Planets?” muttered Casey. “We’re pan-galactic, Mike. Deputizing you is completely legitimate. In fact, the Centauri System’s Deputy Overchief is Falcon, now that I think of it.”
“How long would it last?” asked Mike.
“As long as we’re working together in an official capacity,” said Casey. “Longer, if you want to keep doing law enforcement work, but by default your tenure as a deputy expires when this job is done.”
Mike gave it some thought. “Maybe I can leverage this into a work experience credit at New Cal in place of my leave of absence. Would you be willing to write me an endorsement?”
“What’s your major?” asked Casey.
“Criminal Justice,” said Mike. “I’m planning to get into Law School in the next couple of years.”
Casey smiled and nodded. “I’m sure we can figure something out.” She guided Orin and Mike through the oath. When she was done, Malmoradan showed them how to equip the tactical vests, as well as how to use the lamps and gadgets built into them.
When everything was ready, Casey bid Ikunku and Shulana thanks and farewell. As soon as they had exited the hold, she led her team aboard and sat down for pre-flight. April joined her in the cockpit and secured the shuttle for launch.
◆◆◆
Tightly gripping the shuttle’s controls, Casey tracked the scene framed by the forward viewport. To her left, Arsenal Bay’s hazy southern pole curved up and down beyond her field of vision. Directly above her, a space station spun slowly on its axis as it rocketed around the planet, a tiny white lotus against the galactic core’s supercluster of stars.
April studied the flight data. “We’re up to sublight-5,” she whispered.
“Well, we have to catch up to it,” said Casey.
April leaned forward. “How fast is the space station going?”
“They’re all running a steady 4.6,” said Casey.
April quietly whistled. “That’s so fast.”
“It’s slower than most,” said Casey. “Think about it. The bigger the planet, the faster you need to go to maintain a stable orbit. The space stations around Rhyon are practically doing sublight-8.”
“Wow,” said April. “I had no idea.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Casey. “This may be your first space station docking maneuver, but it’s definitely not mine.”
Orin, Malmoradan, Mike, Shona, Edison, and Cajun sat within the passenger compartment. “Why didn’t they answer any of my hails?” asked Shona. She glanced at her comrades. “None of the space stations answered. Not one.”
“Couldn’t tell you,” said Malmoradan. He nodded toward a pair of large duffle bags secured to the deck near the cockpit door. “But it’s got Ca
sey concerned enough to bring along some of my favorite hardware.”
“Won’t gunfire breach the hull?” asked Mike.
“Not that kind of hardware,” said Malmoradan.
“It’s ridiculous that you’re bringing any weapons at all,” said Edison. “Arsenal Bay is at a very mature point in its production lifecycle. My scans suggest they’re only two or three months away from transitioning the population centers. It’s likely Taranis emptied out the space stations to make room and then put them all on autopilot.”
“We’re bringing the gear in case corporate security gives us any trouble,” said Malmoradan. “Make no mistake—Taranis doesn’t give a damn about any of those people down there. If they could get away with it, they’d leave ‘em all down there to die.”
“I’m sorry, but I beg to differ. Even if Taranis’s leadership team were so monstrously depraved—and I highly doubt they are—it would cost a fortune to train another workforce on that scale,” said Edison.
“Edison, ya best stop there,” said Cajun. “Right there. This ain’t a fight worth pickin’.”
“You’re right, of course,” Edison grumbled. “Malmoradan, I respect your opinion and life experiences that shaped it.”
Malmoradan glowered. “Thanks for the bone, Spacebucks, but you can stow it.” Pointedly, he turned away.
Edison frowned at Cajun. “You always wag your finger at me, but never at him.”
“He’s ocelini. Ya ever find somethin’ to wag does any good, ya tell me, hear?”
“You know what? I will,” said Edison.
April’s voice filled the passenger compartment. “We’ll be moving to zero-G in sixty seconds. Get ready for docking maneuvers.”
As soon as weightlessness took hold, Malmoradan unbuckled and pushed himself to the front of the shuttle. He double-checked the contents of the duffle bags, and satisfied everything was in order, he zipped them back up and drifted to the lockers. There, he retrieved the tactical vests. “Here,” he said. “Put these on. As Mike pointed out, hull breaches are bad, so we’re only bringing smoke grenades and lightning guns. We probably won’t need to use any of it, but it’s better to have the firepower and not need it than the other way around.”
