The Outback Stars

by Sandra McDonald

  She sat next to him, but not so close as to actually press her leg against his. Wolf, his expression as carefully blank as ever, said, “Lieutenant, Sergeant, this morning marks the end of your debriefing. We’re satisfied that that you’re not holding back information about your experience. We’re grateful for your full cooperation to date, and would like to extend an invitation for you to join our project.”

  Looking perplexed, Myell asked, “Which project is that, sir?”

  “You need to ask?” Wolf replied.

  “Exploring the Wondjina Transportation System,” Jodenny said. “Finding out more about it.”

  Myell said, “But it makes people sick. It wasn’t made for human use.”

  Wolf steepled his hands together on the tabletop. “Your security clearances have been updated and backdated to the day you left Kookaburra. You’ll be signing your agreement to them shortly. What happened to you, and any information you’ve gained from that experience, is strictly classified. If you were to speak of it to others, the entire project would be jeopardized. If you stay here, with us, you’d be able to explore the matter more fully with like-minded researchers and explorers. It’s a rare and precious opportunity.”

  Jodenny sat back in her chair. The walls and overhead were smooth, but she imagined somewhere a camera was recording this session.

  “Commander Osherman said we were somehow encoded,” she said. “All we have to do is step into a Sphere from now on and the system will activate.”

  Wolf’s expression gave nothing away. “Not exactly, but it’s accurate enough that you should never attempt it. We’ll be watching to make sure you don’t.”

  “You’re not listening,” Myell said, to both of them. “It wasn’t made for us to use. Who knows what might happen if you keep sending people through—not just to them, but to all of us.”

  “So you believe,” Wolf replied, leading Jodenny to wonder what exactly had transpired during Myell’s debriefings. Wolf continued. “If you join us, Sergeant, you’ll be able to see firsthand what accomplishments we’ve made and how the system could benefit everyone in the Seven Sisters. If you choose not to participate, you’ll be unable to tell anyone about your experience upon pain of court-martial or worse.”

  Jodenny already knew what Myell’s answer would be. As for herself, she was sorely tempted to say yes. Traveling among the stars, setting forth on new planets, maybe meeting the Wondjina themselves—she could happily sign up for a project such as that. But then she remembered Myell’s heart stopping at the end, and his body lax in her arms.

  “I want to return to regular duty,” she said. “I’m sure the Aral Sea’s departed by now, but perhaps the Alaska has an open billet.”

  “Two open billets,” Myell insisted.

  “You’ll never get another chance like this one,” Wolf warned.

  Jodenny reached under the table and squeezed Myell’s hand, surveillance cameras be damned. “We know that.”

  “Let’s hope you don’t regret it,” Wolf said, rising to his feet.

  “What happens now?” Myell asked.

  “Once you sign your new clearances we’ll notify Fleet that you’re ready for active duty. I’ll convey your request to return to ship duty, but nothing’s guaranteed.”

  Jodenny asked, “You’re not going to erase our memories?”

  Wolf’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not sure why Commander Osherman told you that story, Lieutenant. As far as our doctors can tell, nothing of the sort was done to you by Team Space. Or, if it was, the chemical markers are no longer detectable.”

  Jodenny pushed down a shiver. “Who else would want to block my memory of an ouroboros? And why?”

  “I don’t know. If your memory had been intact, we would have simply debriefed you, offered you the same deal we’re offering you now, or sworn you to secrecy.”

  Wolf left the conference room. The woman with the heart-shaped face came in with flatgibs for them to review and sign. Jodenny read through document after document that outlined her new security clearance and the penalties she faced if she violated its terms, including court-martial and life imprisonment. She would be bound to it for the rest of her life, even if she left Team Space and became a civilian. After she and Myell were done affixing their signatures, a guard took them down more stairs to a small self-service café and said, “If you’ll wait here, someone will be with you shortly.”

  The guard took up position at the door. Jodenny grabbed a cup of horchata and slid into a booth. Myell’s coffee went untouched as he sat across from her and leaned forward intently.

  “You’re all right?” he asked. “Your hand?”

  Jodenny wanted to laugh. “It’s fine. You’re the one who stopped breathing.”

  “I don’t remember much. Snow and ice, but nothing after that.”

  “You’re okay now?” she asked, and it wasn’t so much a question as a reassurance. They were both alive and well, and would soon return to their professional lives. Though she was ridiculously happy just sitting with him, Jodenny had no idea what to do next about their relationship. She could resign her commission. He could leave Team Space at the end of his contract. Or they could both continue on active duty, and willingly violate fraternization rules.

  “Things are going to work out,” Myell said, as if reading her mind. “Three months, and I’m free of Team Space.”

  Jodenny clutched her cup. “You shouldn’t have to give up your career. You deserve to be a chief, and Team Space needs people like you.”

  Myell glanced toward the guard, who didn’t appear to be listening to them. “I never figured myself for a career sailor. Whatever happens, for the next three months you’re just another lieutenant and I’m just another sergeant. Easy, right?”

  He smiled, but she could see that the effort was for her sake. Three months was manageable, she supposed, though it sounded like a lifetime. She was still mulling it over when another guard came to take them to their rooms, where fresh uniforms in correct sizes and with proper insignia had already been laid out. Twenty minutes later Jodenny was escorted to an underground parking facility, where Myell was standing outside a limousine-flit with tinted windows. He looked as uncomfortable in his uniform as she felt in hers.

  “Our ride, apparently.” Myell held open the passenger door. “After you, Lieutenant.”

  Jodenny slid into the cool, dark interior and was startled to find a three-star admiral sitting inside.

  “Ma’am!” Jodenny said.

  “So you’re the infamous Lieutenant Scott,” Admiral Nilsen said flatly, and waited until Myell was seated beside Jodenny. “The equally infamous Sergeant Myell. How exciting for me to meet you both.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” Myell said, a little tentatively.

  The car began moving. The windows made it impossible for Jodenny to see where, but her attention was in any case focused solely on the woman across from her.

  “I’ll be brief,” Nilsen said. “The Aral Sea hasn’t left orbit. Her departure was delayed. Captain Umbundo is adamantly opposed to your returning onboard. The legal investigation into the smuggling ring is still ongoing, there have been several internal reassignments, no one has been able to locate Agent Ishikawa, and he has enough on his hands without you two adding to the mixture. Several of my staff have suggested I simply stick the two of you in the dullest, drabbest jobs possible, somewhere where you can’t possibly cause any more trouble than you have already.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jodenny said, her stomach churning.

  Nilsen continued. “At the same time, it’ll be less of a hassle for my office if you’re far away from curious journalists. We’ve squelched most of the reports of you two disappearing in the middle of a Mother Sphere, but interest isn’t going to die anytime soon.”

  Myell spoke up. “The media can’t reach us if we’re on the Aral Sea, ma’am.”

  “My point, exactly.” Nilsen tapped something on her gib. The flit sped up. “Truth be told, I have my doubts about you
, Lieutenant Scott. You received excellent evaluations on the Yangtze, your actions during that disaster deservedly earned the MacBride Cross, and I’m told that aside from disobeying Commander Osherman’s orders, you were performing well on the Aral Sea. But the rumors of fraternization are discouraging, you sometimes let your emotions overrule your head, and you have a tendency to jump the chain of command when things don’t go your way.”

  Myell protested, “It’s not like that at all—”

  “No.” Jodenny felt herself blush, but she held the admiral’s gaze. “It’s all right. It’s true.”

  Nilsen lifted her chin. “On the other hand, my nephew speaks quite highly of you, and by all accounts you’ve treated him better than any other division leader he’s ever had.”

  “Your nephew?” Myell asked.

  The corner of Nilsen’s mouth quirked. “Peter Dicensu’s not the brightest sailor ever to join Team Space, but he means well. He speaks well of you too, Sergeant Myell. Commander Al-Banna says that your recent evaluations are not representative of your true performance. He also believes you were unfairly accused in the matter of AT Ford and have been cleared in regard to certain inventory irregularities. He thinks you might have a promising career, if you don’t derail it with hasty choices.”

  Myell said, “Choosing to get off a train isn’t the same as derailing myself, ma’am.”

  “I’m not much for transportation metaphors,” Nilsen said. “I also didn’t get to the position I have because I followed every rule and regulation that came my way. Neither one of you should take that as advice. Merely consider it a point of information.”

  The flit slid to a stop. The passenger door opened on its own, revealing a busy curb at the Waipata spaceport. Nilsen said, “Better hurry if you want to make that last birdie.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Jodenny said, and Myell echoed.

  They raced through the terminal and boarded the last shuttle to the Aral Sea with only moments to spare. “I forgot Dicensu had an aunt,” Myell said, once they were safely in their seats.

  Jodenny leaned back and let her eyes close. “Thank goodness for nepotism.”

  * * *

  Their first stop back on the ship was the Supply Flats. Al-Banna had stayed behind on Warramala to fulfill his Inspector General duties, and Captain Umbundo had elevated Lieutenant Commander Wildstein to Supply Officer for the duration of their cruise. Wildstein didn’t see either pleased or displeased to see them, and she asked no questions about what had happened on Warramala. To Jodenny she said, “You. Flight Support. Commander Rokutan needs an Assistant Division Officer.”

  Myell didn’t like the idea of Jodenny working for Rokutan, even though whoever she slept with prior to their relationship was really none of his business. Jodenny didn’t look excited, either, but off she went without a farewell glance.

  “You,” Wildstein said to Myell, “are staying right here. Bartis is in the brig for aiding and abetting Chiba and someone’s got to clean up this place.”

  Myell gazed unhappily at the piles of work on Bartis’s desk. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Underway Stores was being run by Ensign Ysten, who most people believed was in over his head. The Maintenance division had been reorganized, with Lieutenant Commander Zarkesh moved over to Tower Ops because of his failure to properly supervise Quenger and Chiba. Lieutenant Anzo and several members of the Data Department had been relieved of their duties pending indictment as part of the smuggling ring, as had Commander Senga from Security.

  “Always knew he was a rotten one,” Timrin said that night, at Myell’s welcome-back dinner. VanAmsal was there, as well as Chang, Minnich, Kevwitch, Amador, and several others. No matter how much they asked, Myell refused to discuss what had happened while trapped in the tower with Jodenny or anything that had occurred on Warramala.

  It didn’t take him long to discover that Chaplain Mow was no longer onboard. As with Dr. Ng, she had been hastily transferred to Fleet on Warramala, no explanation given. Governor Ganambarr and the Aboriginal colonists in T9 had all departed, leaving him with no one he could confide in or consult. Neither the snake nor the Wirrinun had appeared since his trip among the stars, and he wasn’t sure he would ever see them again. He felt an unexpected loss at that, but relief as well.

  Four days after leaving Warramala the ship dropped into the Alcheringa and started downriver to Baiame. After a while people stopped asking Myell about Chiba and the smugglers. Eva sent a few imails that he refused to answer. Slipping back into normal routine wasn’t as hard as he feared it would be, except that as the days and weeks dragged on he saw precious little of Jodenny. She never came to the Flats, no longer frequented the E-Deck gym, and rarely went over to the Rocks. Apparently she spent all of her time either at work, on watch, or in the Supply wardroom.

  VanAmsal said, “I heard Rokutan’s keeping her at arm’s length. That’s a boys’ club over there, you know?”

  “Any rumors about…” Myell tried to sound nonchalant. “Them being together?”

  VanAmsal rolled her eyes. “Is that what you think of her?”

  No. He didn’t. But he certainly wished he were working for Jodenny again. Wildstein was relentless. She came in early, worked through lunch, and went home late. She had rigid paperwork requirements, and took great satisfaction in reprimanding Myell about something new every day.

  “These evaluations should be filed by MOC code, Sergeant, not alphabetically,” she would say. Or, “Why haven’t you finished the DLRs I gave you an hour ago?” A few days before they reached Baiame she asked, “Why is it, Sergeant, that you can never remember to put incoming requisitions in my middle tray, not the top one?”

  He was tempted to tell her exactly where she could put those requisitions. But then Wildstein’s gaze focused on the clock and she asked, “Shouldn’t you be at the chief’s exam?”

  “No, ma’am,” Myell said. “I’m getting out of Team Space when my contract expires.”

  “That’s a plan.” Wildstein took the requisitions from him. “Then again, plans change. Go take that exam, Sergeant. The results won’t be announced until we get to Fortune. If you pass, you might stay in. And if you get out, at least you’ll have it on your record for future employers to see.”

  He supposed she had a point, but he was woefully unprepared. Weeks had passed since he’d practiced any questions. Nevertheless he got RT Sorenson to cover the office and hurried up to the auditorium. Several officers were stationed at the registration desks, Jodenny among them. She looked rested and healthy, and in no way pining for him.

  “Sergeant Myell.” Ensign Hultz had him sign in. “I heard you weren’t taking the exam.”

  Myell took a tablet gib. “Figured I’d give it a shot.”

  He sat near VanAmsal, who was already hard at work. Myell concentrated on the questions and ignored Jodenny. In the second hour the exam changed to essay format, and in the third he was faced with a harder series of fill-in blanks. The auditorium was quiet but for breathing and the tap-tap-tap of gibs.

  Just after noon, with his stomach growling and vision beginning to blur, Myell finished up, turned his gib in, and headed for the mess decks. As the lift doors were closing he heard Hultz call, “Hold up!” and she boarded, along with Jodenny and some officers he didn’t know from the Navigation Department.

  “I’m just saying,” a lieutenant said. “It wasn’t my idea in the first place.”

  “You can’t wriggle out that easily,” one of his friends said.

  Jodenny didn’t participate in the conversation. She stood with her gaze on the deck indicator, expression inscrutable. As the decks continued to slide by she didn’t look his way once, not even a tiny bit. The lift stopped at the mess deck to let everyone out. Myell abruptly changed his mind and headed upladder for the vending machines on the Flats.

  “So how was the test, Sergeant?” Wildstein asked when he returned to the office.

  “I think I passed,” he said. It was Jodenny who had failed, a
nd he was determined to tell her so.

  * * *

  “Lieutenant Scott, I relieve you,” said Lieutenant Hamied.

  “I stand relieved,” Jodenny said, and suppressed a yawn. She had qualified to stand Command Duty Officer shortly after they left Warramala, and this was the third night watch she’d pulled in a week. Someone in Scheduling obviously held a grudge. Jodenny didn’t mind. The alternative was lying alone in her lonely bed, thinking about Myell, and that only led to frustration and sadness. Funny how just one month of separation could feel like ten years. In some ways it was better to stay completely away from him, to pretend he was on some other ship or planet, than to catch fleeting glimpses in the passageways. Two days earlier they’d boarded the same lift, and his nearby presence had been enough to send her spiraling back to the too-short time they’d had together on Warramala, the memory of his body pressed against hers. Not being able to reach out and touch him was a worse punishment than anything Team Space could have dreamed up.

  But just two more months, she told herself. The Aral Sea was soon due to slide out of the Alcheringa and arrive at Baiame. Flight operations would begin almost immediately, with tower releases commencing three days hence. In a week they’d depart the last of the Seven Sisters and begin the long trek toward Fortune. Jodenny could keep her feelings at bay until then. No problem at all.

  The bridge was beginning to liven up with the arrival of the morning shift. Jodenny took a three-hour nap in her cabin, then went up to the officers’ gym for a few kilometers on the treadmill. A hot shower and extra sugar in her horchata made the world more manageable. She made it to Flight Support a half hour before the Alcheringa drop. Rokutan was up in Ops, going over final fuel schedules.

  “Hey, Lieutenant,” said Sergeant Gordon, who was busy on the deskgib she and Jodenny shared. “How was your midwatch?”

  “No problems.” Jodenny cleared off a corner chair. She’d thought the Flight Support office was small when she first saw it, but now she knew it was absolutely minuscule. She glanced out the open hatch to the row of shuttles lined up on the hangar deck. Beyond them, the Fox fighters were queued up for launch. A group of pilots were debriefing in the center of the hangar, and a sudden burst of laughter rose above the sounds of machinery.