Promissory Note

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  On the next rest day, desperate to get away from the outcry, to find somewhere she could think, Laura left her normal early morning message for Micah to let him know she was okay. If she didn’t, he would come to check on her. With the same message she told him she was heading for the farm.

  She walked to the torus hub and climbed down to the farm, grateful for the physical release the fast walk provided. The farm was quiet and almost still, except that there were animals everywhere, their heads down as they cropped the grasses in lazy contentment. It was a rest day for the farm, too, and there was barely anyone about. Erron would be here somewhere, though.

  She found him in the hay barn, his shirt off and an ancient pitchfork in his hands. His flesh was loose and soft, an old man’s skin. Yet the muscles beneath flexed easily, proving he was still a vital man, despite his age.

  He dropped the fork and pulled his shirt back on, as Laura tried to hide her smile. “The hay gets into the cloth and itches,” he said shortly, embarrassed.

  “Aren’t there machines that can do that?” she asked.

  “There are, yet the old ways have their uses, including teaching snippets like you why we do what we do, in the way we do it.”

  “I am never going to work on a farm,” Laura pointed out. “Do I really need to know that pitchforks lifted the hay and got air under it so it wouldn’t spoil?”

  Erron grinned, the wrinkles around his eyes folding deeply. “You remembered.”

  “Of course,” she told him.

  “Here to talk, Laura?” he asked gently.

  She sighed. “Do you mind?”

  “Do I look as if I mind? This is about Micah, I’m guessing.”

  “Everyone hates him.”

  “You knew that before you even met the man.”

  “Only now they know we’re…whatever we are. It’s as though everyone is going out of their way to tell me what a bad idea it is.”

  “They’re telling you because they care about you, honeychild. They wouldn’t bother, otherwise.” Erron picked up the pitchfork and hung it on the pegs on the wall.

  “What do you think of Micah?” Laura asked curiously.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “It does to me. You, out of everyone I know. I’ve known you since I was four years old. You know me. You know about me. If you think he’s as wicked as everyone else thinks, then you I would believe.”

  Erron shook his head. “You shouldn’t believe anyone,” he said slowly. “That’s not what being an adult is about.”

  Laura frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “A long, long time ago, when I was still a kid myself, Jonah Solomon told me something. He was on the run, a wanted man. The Red Guard would have shot him on sight. I was scared out of my socks, because he was in my house and my mother had disappeared. In those days, Jonah was just this guy my mom knew and back then, it seemed as though everyone thought he was a complete waste of air.”

  “I know it happened,” Laura said slowly. “You’ve told me about it before. I still can’t believe that people thought so badly of Captain Solomon.”

  “That’s the problem right there,” Erron said. “Everyone was thinking what they were supposed to think. No one was thinking for themselves. Jonah made me think it through and make up my own mind. That was what being an adult was about, he said, and he was right.” Erron shrugged. “I didn’t turn him in. If I had, the ship would have considered me a model citizen and Jonah would never have been Captain and my mom would have…well, she wouldn’t have had the life she ended up having because of him. As a kid, it seemed to me that she was always sad. When Jonah came along, that changed. So even though I made up my own mind, it turned out to be the right decision in all sorts of ways.”

  “I could make up my own mind about Micah and still be wrong,” Laura said.

  “You could be very wrong. That’s the other half of being an adult. You learn to live with the consequences of wrong decisions. If you’re really smart, you learn from the bad choices. And you’re all that, Laura. Far cleverer than most people think you are, and intelligent enough to catch the attention of someone like Micah Thorn.”

  “He likes me because we’re both…flawed.”

  Erron shook his head. “That just gives him an excuse, honeychild. You, too.”

  Laura sighed. “I still don’t know what to think.”

  “Then take your time. Figure it out. Only, don’t let the fear of having people think badly of you shape your choice. You can live with not being popular, Laura. Trust me.”

  “Micah does,” Laura murmured.

  “It shouldn’t make a bit of difference and the stars alone know why you think it might, but for what it’s worth, I think he’s a good man,” Erron said. “He has the same buried strength Jonah had.”

  Laura gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

  “Come over to the main building. You’re too pale. I’m going to fill you up with a good meal before you go home.”

  She let him lead her from the barn. As he was closing the barn door, one of the taxi-boats settled down on the flat, hard ground between the barn and the administrative buildings. Micah stood on it, his hands on the grab rail.

  “Your chariot awaits,” Erron said, with a dry tone.

  “My what?”

  He sighed. “You really should read more history.”

  “Micah makes me read the stuff all the time. I don’t remember anything about chariots.” She reached up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll take my time and make up my own mind,” she promised him. “And I’ll try not to mind if no one likes my decision.”

  “Good,” Erron said roughly. “Go hug your fellow. He’s waiting for you.” He gave her a little push.

  Laura hurried over to the taxi-boat. “Is something wrong?” she asked Micah.

  He opened the gate of the taxi-boat and held out his hand. She let him help her up onto the boat.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he told her, “except I just didn’t want to go through the whole day before seeing you.” He glanced at the taxi operator and said nothing else. The scowl was back in place.

  The taxi lifted off smoothly and Laura waved at Erron as it moved over the roof of the barn. “It’s very nice to not have to climb the stairs,” she confessed. “Going down is fine. Going up, even with the gravity fading, is real work.”

  It was a very short journey to the hub. When they docked, Micah pointed to the little car, parked in one of the bays where Palatinians kept their private cars. As they walked toward it, Laura looked up at him. “And now that no one is listening?”

  Micah’s mouth curved into a smile. “I wasn’t lying. I didn’t want to wait to see you. I have something to show you.”

  “You mean you’re not dragging me back to the office to work on the project after all?”

  “Not today, although we are going to the office. Just not to work.”

  “I can’t think of anything else you could do there, but work.”

  Micah’s frown came back. “It stops me thinking.”

  “Working does?”

  He nodded.

  Laura thought of the nine screens in his room and the way he juggled tasks and thought processes. When he was working, there was no room for any extraneous thoughts.

  “Not thinking isn’t a way to live,” she said.

  “It worked well enough for me,” he said. “Until you came along, anyway.”

  Laura didn’t smile.

  Micah didn’t speak again until they were in the car, the hood was down and the car was connecting with the Artery. “Tell me,” he said simply.

  “You can’t go through life with your head averted, avoiding everything about it you don’t like.”

  His scowl came back, his brows coming together. “I don’t.”

  “I hide parts of my life from everyone else,” she said patiently. “You hide parts of your life from you.”

  He stared out through the hood, at the ship hull rushi
ng past them, right next to the Artery.

  “As long as you do that,” she said, “you will never be the man you could be.”

  His chest rose and fell heavily. “I never can be the man I should have been.” His voice was low.

  “You really want to spend your life being the most hated man on the ship?”

  His frown deepened. “I don’t care,” he said roughly. “Not if you know the truth.”

  “I care. I care a lot.”

  He looked at her, his dark gaze penetrating. “They’ve done their work on you, haven’t they? They’ve whispered in your ear for a week and now you believe them.”

  “No, Micah. That’s not it at all,” she said quickly. “I’m going to make up my own mind.”

  “You haven’t yet decided for yourself?” He looked away from her, his throat working. “You don’t trust me yet.”

  “I do,” she said quickly. “More than you know.”

  He didn’t speak again and Laura sat unhappily beside him, the past weighing down the atmosphere between them.

  Even when they arrived at the office suite and went inside, he still did not speak. He led her to his office. The back corridor walls had been colored in the last few weeks and the floor was no longer industrial black and unforgiving.

  Micah’s office, though, still had the most unique colors. The golden brown walls drew the eye. The shade shimmered and seemed to shift, as the light from the screens played off it.

  He drew her into the middle of the room and turned her to face one of the screens. His hands stayed on her arms. “Emma?” he said.

  “I’m here.” It was a woman’s voice, rich with control and beautiful.

  “Laura, meet Emma,” Micah said.

  “Hello, Laura. It is such a pleasure to meet you.”

  Laura looked up at Micah, puzzled.

  His hands tightened. “Emma is an AI,” he said. “An advanced one. I gave her a voice and some human characteristics. She will do the rest for herself. She can help you, Laura.”

  “I can,” Emma said, her tone confident. “I exist everywhere, so I can be by your side at all times. Micah explained how I can help. I can remember things for you, Laura. I can remind you of them at the right time. You never need worry about losing a memory anymore. I will remember everything.”

  A hard lump formed in Laura’s chest, making it hard to breath. Her eyes stung. “You did this for me?” she asked Micah.

  His arm wrapped around her shoulders, resting against her chest. Her back was supported by his big body. “If I could do what Emma will do for you, I would, but I am merely human.”

  Laura closed her eyes and let herself lean against him. “Perfectly human,” she breathed.

  His lips pressed against the corner of her jaw, then the side of her neck.

  She shivered.

  “Don’t lock me out, Laura,” he murmured. “Wait for me. Please.”

  She turned in his arms and reached up to wind her arms around his neck. “I trust you enough to wait,” she breathed and kissed him.

  Chapter Ten

  Emma really was everywhere. Laura stopped carrying her journal with her, because Emma could reach her from any screen, computer or terminal on the ship. Sometimes, she used public address speakers, using directional signals to speak just to Laura.

  Emma quickly learned to remain silent and in recording mode whenever someone was nearby. When Laura was alone, though, they talked. One of their favorite subjects was Micah. Laura knew she must be as frank with Emma as she had been in the pages of her journal, or Emma would not be of any use to her. Emma asked questions and never forgot the answers, so Laura found she was using the AI as a sounding board that was ruthlessly logical and completely and utterly trustworthy. She worked out problems with Emma and ruminated over dilemmas.

  “Micah is the only person who has never discounted you because of your epilepsy,” Emma pointed. “So you trust him because of that. It just isn’t enough.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Laura agreed. “Which is ridiculous. I was never supposed to fall in love, Emma. It was never going to happen. Now it might and instead of being grateful, I’m demanding even more.”

  “How much more?”

  “Everything,” Laura said flatly. “I want all of him. Not just the left-overs.”

  “Perhaps you would not like him as much if you saw all of him.”

  “That is why I am afraid to try.”

  Despite her fear, Laura couldn’t stay away from him. Micah lived in her thoughts and lingered in her dreams. She would go to his office simply to see him. He would always draw her into his arms and kiss her, his hands stroking her until her body throbbed and her breath came in pants. Her clothing would be disarrayed and her thoughts centered upon his hot, hard body and what his lips could do to her.

  It was one of those occasions when he had pushed her gently out of the office with her heart hammering, that Emma said quietly as she walked with trembling steps back to her desk, “I had not realized until today that the color of the walls in Micah’s office are the exact same shades as your hair.”

  Laura reached out for the wall, to prop herself up. Her heart squeezed even tighter as she recognized the fact for herself. “You’re right,” she breathed. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder, suddenly conscious of the length and the color. “Only, he changed the walls…such a long time ago.”

  Emma usually supplied a date when Laura generalized in that way. This time, though, she said softly, “Long before he kissed you.”

  “Before he even knew about me,” she breathed. She made herself straighten up. “It could be a coincidence,” she added.

  “Until there is corroborating proof,” Emma said, just as firmly. “This is hopeful, though, isn’t it?”

  Laura didn’t want to build her hopes upon a coincidence yet they grew, anyway. Her days were filled with optimism and happiness and she wondered why no one could see it in her face. She smiled a lot. Even the occasional dark warning from her friends about Micah could not dent her hope.

  A few weeks after Emma had become an essential part of her life, Laura arrived at the coders’ suite and went straight through to Micah’s office. She didn’t bother finding an excuse for the coders in the front room. They would make up their own stories, anyway.

  Micah’s office door opened for her as usual.

  Micah stood beside the high shelves on the back wall. The hand-carved wooden box was in his hands, the lid open. He was staring down into the box and there was a desperate, pain-filled expression on his face.

  He saw her and jerked upright, snapping the lid back into place. “Laura…” He shook his head, as if he was clearing his thoughts. He put the box back on the shelf.

  Laura didn’t go into the room. She was too shocked to move. She stayed in the middle of the corridor, her heart squeezing. Her head hurt.

  Micah strode out and grabbed her hand. “Don’t look at me that way,” he said, his voice low and hard. “Come inside. Just for a moment.”

  She let him draw her inside. The door shut behind them. She couldn’t take her eyes off the box. “I was wrong,” she said woodenly. “You’re not hiding from your past. You won’t let it go at all.”

  Micah’s scowl deepened. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “The Tankball Association soiree is tomorrow night.”

  The hot swirl of feelings and fear congealed in her chest. She looked at him. “Tankball?”

  He was watching her with a wary expression, his chin down, his gaze steady. “I thought it was time. Do you?”

  Pure fear and dizzying adrenaline wiped away everything that had happened in the last sixty seconds. “Oh, Micah…are you sure?”

  He swallowed. “No. So don’t ask me again.”

  Laura knew that he wanted her to kiss him, as he had kissed her. She couldn’t do that right now. Instead, she stepped around him and snatched up the box on the shelf. Holding her breath, she opened the lid.

  Browns, dusky g
reens. Gold highlights. The silk lay coiled in the box, glowing.

  Laura drew in a breath that shook. “My scarf….” She looked at him, stunned.

  Micah lifted his gaze to meet hers. Wariness radiated from the stiff set of his shoulders.

  “I didn’t even know I had lost it,” she whispered.

  His gaze didn’t waver. “Come with me tomorrow night,” he said quietly. “I can face them all, if you are there.”

  Wordlessly, she nodded.

  * * * * *

  The annual Tankball Association Gala and Soiree was a week-long celebration of everything associated with tankball, including the year’s newly crowned champion team. The soiree at the end of the week was a culmination of hype and festivities and was always heavily reported and gossiped about. Most of the adult population of the ship attended. The big open area in front of the arena in the Aventine was roped off with garlands and decorations.

  Everyone wore their glittering best to the soiree, which taxed Laura’s creativity. Emma puzzled over how to find a suitable outfit with her and it was Emma who came up with the solution.

  “You could print a dress, yes?” Emma asked.

  “If I had the energy to spare, sure.”

  “You are standing in a house filled with banked energy, aren’t you?” Emma asked.

  “You mean…recycle it?”

  “Yes. It is merely a swapping of energy units, after all.”

  Laura laughed. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. You’re right.”

  While Emma tracked the crediting of energy, Laura started with the items she could most easily spare, pushing them into the recycler in a steadily increasing pace. Once she had started the process it became self-sustaining and easier to drop more and more items into the blank, black maw of the recycler.

  When Emma announced that her energy rations had increased to a suitable level to print an evening gown, Laura looked around her denuded house. “There’s something to be said for simplicity.”

  “I liked all the things,” Emma said. “So did Micah.”

  “How do you know that?”