Among The Stars (Heinlein's Finches Book 2)

by Robin Banks

  Laika has calmed down by now, her face buried in Alya’s neck. Over her head, Alya stutters. “I had no idea. I thought it was about the wedding.”

  “The wedding? Why would I send you ninety-four fucking messages about the wedding? It’s not as if we thought you could come. We know how touring works. I mean, Sumit missed you there, we all did, but…”

  Alya cuts him off. “Sumit?”

  “Yes. He would have liked to have you at his wedding. Obviously.” His face twists in pain. “I didn’t tell them I asked you to stay. I didn’t want them to feel that they had to take sides. And I guess it was a matter of pride, too. Getting turned down smarts. Regardless of the manner or the reasons, it fucking smarts.”

  “Sumit’s wedding?”

  “Yes. Sumit’s wedding. Which wedding are you on about?”

  “Your wedding.”

  “My wedding? What the hell?”

  “Jameson said you’d gotten married. Said your dad sent him an invite.” Just as well she’s sitting on the floor already, because the blood has drained out of her face.

  Something clicks in my brain. “Shit, Alya. He didn’t. He said ‘that darkie you knocked about with’. He didn’t say ‘Raj’.”

  Raj sneers at that. “We all look the same, don’t you know that? Hang on a moment. You,” he points at Alya, “you thought I’d gone and married someone just weeks after asking you to marry me? You seriously did?”

  “I… That’s what he said.”

  “Who the fuck did you take me for? Did you seriously think, what, that I had someone on the side all along? That you were the one on the side?”

  “No. I didn’t. Lots of people did, but I didn’t. I didn’t think you could do that. Not you.”

  “What then?”

  “I guess I thought I broke your heart. Because I broke mine. And that you’d gone and found someone to help you mend it. And I really, really hoped that it would work out for you, because I wanted you to be happy, with or without me. But I also kinda hoped that whoever the hell it was would die in a fire or something. But I didn’t hope that on purpose, it just kind of happened. And only if it didn’t upset you.”

  “Alya, if I ever marry somebody I’d like to hope that her dying in a fire would upset me. A lot.”

  “I figured that. I didn’t hope it on purpose. It was hard not to, though.”

  “Gods. I don’t know whether to hug you, or send you off for a brain scan. How could you think I’d do something like that?”

  “I couldn’t. I couldn’t think about it at all. Hurt too much.”

  He glowers at her. She’s huddled on the floor in a pile of tears and snot and sorrow and dog, and looks plain awful. Raj shoves the blaster in his belt, marches up to her and picks her up off the floor to hold her against his chest, all the while mumbling a litany about mulish women and what could he have done to deserve this and how he’s going to have to squeeze some sense into her even if it requires specialized equipment. He sounds so much like Tom that I want to cry.

  Laika leans against his leg adoringly, looking up at the two of them. Raj turns to talk to me over Alya’s head. “Luke, man, I’m really glad to see you and I really want to catch up but can we do this in a few hours. Or days. I… You know.”

  “Yeah. I know. Well, no, I don’t, but I can imagine.”

  “Can you tell my guys how to move the animals? They have no clue.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “They’ll show you to your cabin. Anything you need or want, just ask. Ok?”

  “Yeah. No problem.”

  “Tell them to shoot the fuck out of this shithole on the way out, ok? I'm feeling tetchy.”

  “Sure.”

  He wheels around and marches off, Alya in his arms, Laika at his heels, and leaves me there to sort out everything else. That probably ought to worry me, but nothing seems that big a deal right now.

  I go up to the guy Raj spoke to earlier. He’s got a posh uniform on, a blaster on his belt, and he’s way older than me, but he’s looking at me anxiously.

  I smile at him. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Just tell your guys not to touch any animals unless they know what they’re doing. Which they don’t, most likely. So just tell them to keep their hands to themselves until I tell them otherwise. Unless they’re happy losing one of them.”

  The guy salutes me, calls his men over, and repeats my instructions. They all listen to me all the way through, as if it were normal for older men with uniforms and blasters to listen to me. We get done in no time and with no loss of limb, though a couple of the poor bastards get pissed on. When we’re done we use the circus ship for target practice until we’ve got it out of our system. They let me take a couple of shots, which is cool.

  When they show me to my cabin, it suddenly hits me that my godsdamned sound system is in my bunk on its way to Dione and I’ll never see it again. I wonder whether Raj has got something I can borrow until I sort myself out. Then my head hits the pillow and darkness engulfs me.

  Anteia

  Year 2380

  Terran Standard

  1.

  Alya’s ATR is rolling up towards me. Nothing unusual there. She checks in with me at work whenever she gets the urge; it’s her prerogative, after all. When she gets closer, though, I notice that she’s on her own, and she’s not smiling. Her face is set hard. When she sees me it sets even harder. That is unusual, and concerning.

  I down tools and walk up to her. As soon as she’s out of the ATR she bear-hugs me around the waist, which is as high as she can reach these days. It all feels friendly enough but she’s not said a word yet nor made proper eye contact. I’m getting a really bad feeling about this.

  When I push her back to take a good look at her face my heart sinks.

  “Come on. Out with it. You’re scaring me now.”

  She bites her bottom lip as she looks up at me, and still doesn’t say anything.

  “Please. Whatever it is can’t be worse than the stuff I’m imagining.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Alya. Get on with it.”

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  “With the worst bit of the truth.”

  “Tom is in town. I just saw him.”

  Ok. That I did not expect.

  She’s trying to read my face now. I have no idea what she might see in it because I have no idea how I feel about this. I feel a hell of a lot, though, that’s for sure.

  “How? Where?”

  “New show came in yesterday. I’d looked up the acts, obviously, but I hadn’t asked for names of everyone on show. It’s my fault.”

  “That’s bullshit, and not even useful bullshit. We had no reason to suspect he was still with a circus. In a brothel, maybe.” My voice is coming out bitter and shaky, and I don’t like that one bit. I thought this shit was over and dealt with. Clearly I was wrong. There’s only one thing for it. “You’re going to the opening night?”

  “We were planning to. The whole family. You know how it is.”

  “Mind if I come with?”

  “I did say ‘the whole family’, didn’t I?” She’d manage to look sterner if she wasn’t so obviously concerned about me.

  “Alright then. Shall I come over or will you swing by and get me?”

  “We’ll come by. 4 o’clock?”

  “Formal wear?”

  “You know it.” She hugs me again. Funny how good that always feels, even though she can only hug about half of me. Her voice comes up muffled by my coat. “Are you ok about this?”

  “Nope. Not even close. But I will be.”

  “Raj is really pissed off. Like, really pissed off.”

  “As long as he leaves his blaster at home, we’ll all be fine.”

  “I’ll make sure of that.” She gives me a hard squeeze and lets go. “Let me know if you change your mind. About going. Or about the blaster.”

  “You’re a bunch of meat-eaters, the lot of you. Terrifying to deal with. Thank yo
u. I’ll see you later, ok?”

  “Ok.” She gets into her ATR and sets off. I feel as if my brains, my heart, and my guts had been sucked right out of me. So I turn it all off, and get back to my tools and my job.

  When the convoy of ATRs swings by, I think I’m managing to look like I’m ready. I’ve got my formal clothes on. I feel infinitely more uncomfortable in them right now than ever before, even more than the first time I wore them. I wish that I could hide in one of my old coats, that I could just climb inside it, pull the hood over my head, lean against a wall, and disappear like I used to, but that would upset people I care about. They wouldn’t mind it because of the look of the thing; they’d be upset that my head is so tied up in knots that I’m reverting to type. So I put on my embroidered coat, brushed my hair off my face, and now I’m standing up straight watching the ATRs roll in. I feel like the talons around my heart and my throat are tightening, but I don’t let it stop me doing the right thing. There’s more at stake than my feelings.

  Alya opens the ATR door. “You’ve got two options. Come with us and have a civilized ride, or go in with the kids and get mobbed.”

  “Have they asked for me?”

  “Are you kidding? You haven’t been around for days. They’re nearly as excited about seeing you as they are about the show.”

  I can see their little faces staring at me, squished against their ATR windows. They’re all waving.

  “You know that’s not a choice at all, right? If I disappoint them, they look at me. With eyes.”

  “What else are they supposed to look at you with? Their nostrils?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. They all do that thing where their eyes get twice the size and four times the depth. I think they take special classes.”

  “I figured it was genetic. Raj does it too. Alright, then. Go to your doom.”

  So I get into the ATR with all the kids and get mobbed, which is perfect because it nearly stops me thinking. When the ATR stops I can still breathe, even though the talons around my throat have tightened up.

  The kids abandon me when we get within sight of the big top entrance. I expected them to: I know I’m not as interesting as a once-a-year event. It leaves me with nowhere to hide, though. Raj has gone up ahead and is herding everyone in, as he always does. Alya is in the middle of the bunch. When she wheels around to look at me, I can tell from her expression that she’s seen him. I look up ahead and he’s on doors, greeting the punters as they come in. Of course they’d put him there;. He’s still damn good looking and he can still smile.

  Alya’s still looking at me. I know she’s just about to come charging up to me, to stand by me and protect me from this and everything else, so I shake my head at her. Either I do this or I don’t, and I need to do it. If I didn’t need to do it, doing it would not be a problem. She doesn’t look happy at all, but she nods and walks on. Going past him she gives him such a look that I don’t know how he doesn’t set off running.

  I don’t know how I can do this, then I remember that I just have to let my feet follow each other, one after the other, and I’m there in no time, right in front of him. We glance at each other as I’m going past and I think I’m gonna manage this, I’m gonna manage to just walk on by and get on with the rest of my life, but then he says my name and it doesn’t sound anything like it used to because his voice is so much deeper now, but when I look at his eyes they’re the godsdamn same, and my feet forget what they were doing and just leave me there, stranded.

  The few people behind me make their way in around me, which is just as well because I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to move again. The curtains get shut, the show music comes on, and still I’m there, stuck and mute, fucking praying that he’ll say something, anything that will release me from this, but when he finally does it doesn’t help one bit because he sounds sadder than I ever heard him, sadder than I thought he could ever sound, and the talons around my throat grip me so fucking hard I think I’m going to choke.

  “You’re missing the start of the show.”

  “So are you.”

  “I’m not on until later.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’re looking good.”

  “You’re looking good too.” He does. He’s taller than I remember him, though not as tall as me, and he’s got some serious muscles on him. Then I catch his face properly and despite the talons in my throat I end up snorting. “You’re wearing fucking make-up?”

  He scowls and smiles at the same time. “Yes, I’m wearing make-up. Gotta look good for the show.”

  “Take more than make-up to fix that.”

  “You still look like a fucking hobo, even with a couple of kilos of embroidery on you. You wear that coat like you fucking stole it.”

  “Maybe I did.”

  “Like hell you did. You’re nowhere near good enough to steal something like that.”

  “You wanna bet?”

  “Bet what? Your shiny buttons against mine?”

  We look at each other for real now, and gods, this is my brother standing in front of me, and I’m not ready for this, I never have been and I never will be, and I can feel my eyes widening and I hope to fuck I’m not gonna cry now ‘cause we already have a fucking audience out here because of course we do, because this is a fucking circus and nobody’s got anything better to do than mind every other fucker’s business. I really, really don’t want to lose it out here, but I’m coming apart fast and there’s fuck-all I can do about it.

  He catches the look in my eyes and grabs me by the arm and drags me through the gap between the foyer and the big top, all the while muttering under his breath about fucking kids making a fucking scene and why it’s always him having to deal with this fucking shit, until we’re out of sight. He sits me down on a crate and looks at me so damn hard. I really, really wish I could be braver and stronger for him because what he sees is clearly hurting him, but I can’t, and that’s that.

  I try and smile for him. He nods and mumbles “that’s the ticket,” then his face comes apart and I don’t know what to do. I’ve seen him hurt as hell and I’ve seen him cry in anger, I’ve seen every side of him I thought there was and some I couldn’t even imagine, but I’ve never seen him cry out of hurt. He doesn’t do that. A pillar of my world is about to fall over, so I speak through the talons in my throat because I gotta fix this.

  “You’re gonna smudge yourself if you don’t cut it the hell out.”

  “You’ve not forgiven me, have you?”

  “Nope. Not a bit. But I’ve not forgotten you either.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “No idea.”

  “I don’t care if you hate me. Well, I do, but I’m still glad to see you. Ain’t that funny?”

  “Not as funny as hating you and still being glad to see you.” Which I am. I only realize it as I’m saying it, but I really am.

  “Is it because you want closure and shit?”

  “Are you going all woo-woo at me? First the make-up and now this?”

  “You’re a little asshole, you know that? Gods, Luke. It was all over the coms, you two getting kidnapped and the animals stolen and Raj rescuing you from pirates or some suchlike shit. Raj, of all people?”

  “You’d be surprised what he gets like when he’s roused.”

  “I guess, but still, what the fuck?”

  I wonder if one day I’ll trust him enough to tell him the truth. Either way, today is not that day. That hurts, but it is what it is.

  “It’s not like we planned it.”

  “Do you have any idea how I felt? I’d fucking left you and you got yourself kidnapped.”

  “No. In all honesty, I never thought about it. I didn’t think you’d care.”

  “Fuck.” His face falls apart again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry? I’m sorry.”

  “So we’re both sorry. Does it all add up, or does it cancel itself out?”

  “I don’t kn
ow.”

  The talons have started to let go of my throat, though my heart is still bleeding. My voice comes out nearly normal now. That’s something.

  “You do look good, though. And you’re in the show now?”

  “Yeah. Been in the show ages.”

  “Whatcha do?”

  “What I do best. Being big and built and good looking.”

  “Didn’t know that being eye candy was a job.”

  “Being a base for aerialists is, though.”

  “You’re a fucking aerialist now? No way.”

  “Yes way. I don’t have to do much. Just hang in there and catch girls.”

  “Man, you’ve been practicing for that all your life.”

  “True dat.”

  “So you like it?”

  “Apart from the fact that twice a day I risk killing myself or somebody else, yeah, I like it.”

  “You must be killing it with the girls.”

  “I’m fucking married.”

  “You what?”

  “No reason to look so godsdamned surprised.”

  “What, you got someone in the family way?”

  “Don’t be an asshole. Maybe I just decided that it’d be good if the people in my life were more permanent.”

  “And getting married does that?”

  “Doesn’t seem to hurt. One can but try, ok?”

  “Alright. I guess.”

  “What about you? You got a girlfriend?”

  “Nah.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Nope.”

  “Dog? Cat? Fish?”

  “I’ve got a guitar. Will that do you?”

  “What do you call her?”

  “Jay.”

  He squints at me. “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Fucking weirdo. Non-fucking weirdo. Weirdo, anyway.”

  “I’ve been busy. I travel a lot. Other things have taken a back seat. Maybe one day they won’t.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “It’s kinda hard to describe.”

  “Particularly if you don’t bother trying.”

  “I started out working at Raj’s place. They got horses for the kids and needed a groom, but there wasn’t really enough work there to justify me drawing a wage. They didn’t care about that, but I did. Alya thought I may be able to teach music, but it turns out that the way I learn it is too different. I don’t understand you normies. Your brains are all slow and shit.”