“Most criminals don’t. It’s easy for the police to track, and most uplinks are set to electronically handshake with any other nearby units automatically, making figuring out who was nearby when a crime is committed easy.”
“I suppose that makes sense. Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I owe you. Because I don’t want to leave anything I should apologize for between us.”
“Do you need to apologize for something the other person doesn’t even know about?”
“Yes. Especially then. What we do when no one is looking is more important than what we do when they are. Tell me, Morgan, why did you come out to find us?”
“I got to thinking that you and Haruhi, with the silly toy, would be a tempting target.”
“And what started you thinking that?”
“I don’t know. A bad feeling?”
“One you acted on.”
“Yeah, so?”
“No one was watching. You could have just gone to bed. You offered, and I said no. No one would think less of you.”
“I don’t quite follow what you’re saying.”
“Never mind. This probably isn’t the best time to be having heavy philosophical discussions. Probably not a good time to have any serious discussion, but there is one thing I want to ask you.”
“What’s that?”
“How much is your rent?”
“Your thought process is really hard to follow. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Naru, all the time,” Gertrude said with a sad smile. “How much?”
“Five hundred a month.”
Gertrude winced.
“That’s more than I expected for something that size.”
“I couldn’t find anything cheaper than that in the whole city.”
“I guess I haven’t looked at rent prices in a long time. Anyway, what would you say to renting a room from me, for three hundred a month?”
“Why would you offer?”
“It’s the right thing to do. Plus it actually would help me out. With Naru gone making ends meet until I finish school has been hard. Especially since I can’t get a part time job and leave Haruhi alone.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” Morgan said. She was pretty sure she liked Gertrude, but this was a sudden offer, and not one to be decided lightly.
“Good. Why don’t you lie down on a couch there for a bit? The throw pillow’s pretty comfortable, and there is a blanket folded up on the shelf beneath the table top. I’ll check on your clothes. Is there anywhere you need to be in the morning? Church or something?”
“I have to be up at two forty-five to get ready for work.”
“Where do you work?”
“I actually work cleaning the school,” Morgan stammered.
“It’s probably a bit closer from here than from your current place.” Gertrude said as she left. “And isn’t tomorrow a holiday anyway?”
“Oh. You’re right. I don’t have work tomorrow.”
It wasn’t until Morgan had laid there for a minute that she realized that at some point it had been assumed that Morgan was just going to stay the night in Gertrude’s home. Crafty woman.
No sense arguing it now. She really did need sleep, even if she didn’t have to be up super early.
With the blanket pulled up over her head she was able to at least pretend she wasn’t exposed in the cavernous room, sheer exhaustion did the rest.
CHAPTER 09
With civilization spread across the unfathomably vast light years many think the time of tribes and fire-forged friendship are over, that our connections to each other as humans don’t matter. These people, of course, never served in the military or on a starship.
- Major Jamie O’Neill, (retired) professor of psychology, 1st Ena University
TO SAY MORGAN took pride in being a light sleeper wasn’t quite accurate. It was more that she took comfort in it, given her background and upbringing. Living in Isa, Morgan routinely found herself woken by a strange sound six or even seven times a night. They were always false alarms, but one day it might not be, and besides she usually fell back asleep within a few minutes.
That night Morgan slept without waking, and she couldn’t be sure why. Had she been exhausted? An effect of her body dealing with the damage to her eyes perhaps? The result of the earlier adrenaline rush of the fight?
These things she wondered later, however. The first thing she was aware of after falling asleep initially was waking up and finding Haruhi staring straight at her face from less than ten centimeters away.
Morgan sat bolt upright, gasping in surprise.
“Hi!” the little girl giggled, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Morgan took a moment to tighten her robe and to compose herself.
“It’s not polite to wake people up like that.”
“Umm, Mom said breakfast and is Morgan up?”
“And did she tell you how to wake me up?”
Haruhi shook her head.
Morgan snorted in amusement. “She probably meant calling out my name or tapping me on the shoulder.”
“Oh. Okay!”
And off the little girl went.
Morgan could see sunlight streaming in through the gaps in the curtains on the far wall. It was at least eight in the morning, possibly later.
Well, first things first. Morgan stood up, stretched, and headed for the bathroom. Her clothes were folded neatly on the counter next to the sink, so she dressed gratefully after doing her business and a quick shower. As she was pulling on the coveralls she noticed a newly repaired rip along one of the seams of the right arm. She must have torn it during the fight. Clearly, Gertrude did nothing by halves.
Including breakfast. Morgan found the dining room and kitchen by following the smell of bacon to the other end of the hallway. The table was already full with piles of eggs, bacon, sausage, stacks of some flat bready-looking circles she didn’t immediately recognize, pitchers of juice in five different colors, smaller thin necked bottles of thick looking brown liquids, several plates of sectioned fruits, bowls of oatmeal, rice, several plates with assorted muffins, and even several pitchers of steaming coffee and what smelled like hot chocolate on a side table.
One thing there wasn’t on the table was anywhere to put a plate to eat from, nor even silverware to eat with.
Was cooking how Gertrude dealt with stress? Could she still be shaken up about the attack? Morgan needed to talk with her. She just hoped Gertrude wasn’t planning on the three of them eating even a fraction of that food.
Between the dining room and the kitchen there was a half wall topped with a counter running most of the length, a pair of swinging doors next to it. Morgan couldn’t see Gertrude, but the sounds coming from the kitchen suggested where she was.
“Gertrude?”
“In here, Morgan.”
Walking into the kitchen presented Morgan with a scene of utter chaos. There were dirty dishes piled on any surface not actively being used for food preparation, and most of the cabinets and drawers were open, things scattered haphazardly. Gertrude and another woman Morgan did not know were busy cooking at least three things each, including more eggs and bacon.
Both were wearing flour dusted and food stained aprons, but the similarities ended there. The strange woman was quite tall, probably fifty centimeters more than Morgan, fifteen or so more than Gertrude. She was wearing a high collared, long sleeved dress that was cut very sharply, faintly reminding Morgan of the military uniforms she had seen at the spaceport in Ein city. She was slim with a sharp face and hard eyes, the same jet black color as her neatly braided hair.
“Are you going to have enough food?” Morgan asked.
The other woman laughed.
“Oh, I hope so. Last I heard at least a dozen were going to make it today,” Gertrude answered.
“Make it to what?”
“Oh, right, I didn’t tell you last night. I guess I didn’t expect you to sleep in quite that long. Not th
at you didn’t have good reason to, the day we had yesterday.”
Morgan motioned for Gertrude to continue.
“It’s a memorial holiday. As many of Naru’s squad that can get together for the holiday along with their spouses. My house is the best suited to hosting, at least on Zion, so we do it here.”
The woman cleared her throat.
“Right. Let me introduce you.” Gertrude made a grand pause to twirl her hand in a theatrical flourish. “This is Lady Dame Colonel Emily Davenport, DCB, thirteenth Baroness of Novan. She was Naru’s commanding officer.”
Emily glared at Gertrude for a moment. “Just Emily, if you please. We’re hardly at court here. And I’m retired in any case.”
“Which is why all the guys still call you colonel on reflex?”
“Those are titles then?” Morgan interjected.
“Not from around here, huh?” Emily asked.
“Lady Novan,” Gertrude started, pointedly ignoring the injunction to call her Emily, “is part of the nobility of Albion, with her holdings being the area called Ena Crossing. Dame is the title for women who have been knighted, and the DCB tells you which order. Colonel is a rank of officer in the military, Marines in this case.”
“And Gertrude loves tweaking my nose with them every chance she gets.”
Morgan regarded Lady Emily, and then motioned to the food.
“I don’t have much experience with nobility, but do many of them spend time cooking?”
Emily laughed.
“Not many. So who are you, that you don’t have such experience?”
“This is Morgan,” Gertrude said, “Though I can’t rightly tell you much more than that. She’s in my mechanical class.”
Emily looked Morgan up and down, pursing her lips as she considered her.
“Gertrude isn’t one to make friends easily. She must see something special in you.” Morgan squirmed a bit under Emily’s gaze, but stood her ground. “So, who are you?”
“Gertrude already told you, I’m Morgan.”
Emily waved her hands dismissively.
“That’s your name, or part of it at any rate. I want to know who you are.”
“Actually it is my whole name,” Morgan replied, straightening up to her whole hundred and forty centimeters. She wasn’t lying, saying she had little experience with nobility, but that didn’t mean she didn’t recognize the type. The Voice of the Comradery carried herself a lot like this woman did, as had the few visitors from the capital they’d had in Pari Passu. Morgan wasn’t going to let herself be intimidated by this woman’s titles, nor let her have power over her. “Not that it is any of your business, but I am from Hillman. I worked in the mines for years before my parents got me off planet. Now I’m here, preparing to work in starship maintenance. I take care of myself, and keep to myself, mostly. So, who are you?”
Emily responded by laughing again, surprising Morgan.
“You’ve got spirit, kid. I like that. Too many people refuse to stand up to me, seeing the titles rather than the person.”
“Morgan has certainly shown that.”
Something about the way Gertrude said that caught Emily’s attention, and she turned her intense gaze on Gertrude.
“You’ve been a little quiet today. What happened that you aren’t telling me?”
“It’s nothing,” Gertrude started to say, before Emily cut her off with another wave of her hand.
“When I came in this morning you looked like you hadn’t slept at all, there was a strange girl sleeping on the couch wearing one of your robes, and you’ve been distracted the whole time. Not to mention the fact that as I came inside, I thought I smelled pepper spray.”
“Are all your friends this observant?” Morgan asked.
Gertrude sighed, turning back to the stove to check the sausages.
“I was almost mugged, okay? I’d taken Morgan to the Obon Festival, and three guys attacked me after I dropped her off at her apartment.”
“Haruhi seemed okay this morning. She is okay, right?” Emily’s bearing went from stern to worried in half a moment, showing Morgan a slightly less prickly side of the strange woman.
“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Gertrude seemed to wave away Emily’s concern. “I don’t think she really understood what was going on. They didn’t have long to threaten me before Morgan showed up out of nowhere and took one of them out.”
“And the pepper spray?”
“With Morgan’s distraction I was able to get it out of my bag and spray one of the muggers. Morgan was standing close enough that she got hit too.”
“You were lucky, in other words.” Emily turned to Morgan. “What prompted you to go back outside? Did you see them following her?”
“There aren’t any windows in my apartment. I just had a bad feeling about letting Gertrude go alone. I thought she’d look like a tempting target.”
“Deo gratias,” Emily muttered, though Morgan could have been hearing it wrong. It wasn’t a language she recognized, let alone understood.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing. Old habit. Giving thanks is all.”
“Emily, I think your pancakes are burning,” Gertrude said suddenly, reaching across the other woman to pull the large frying pan over to a different part of the stovetop.
“We should finish talking later, perhaps,” Emily said, taking the handle of the pan from Gertrude. “The others should be arriving any time now.”
“Right.” Gertrude grabbed a plate off of a pile near the counter, a clean pile. “Obviously we won’t be eating in the dining room. The other door in there leads to the patio, which is already set for the meal. We’ll be eating buffet style, so go ahead and fill your plate with whatever you want to start with and go find a seat. We’re almost done here and will join you once as the others arrive.”
“Sure,” Morgan said, taking the offered plate. She hoped Gertrude would be out soon, she didn’t enjoy the thought of meeting the rest of the guests without any sort of introduction. So far her experiences with military men and women hadn’t been especially pleasant.
With so much food to choose from, Morgan didn’t even try to get some of everything. Not even a good sampling. She did grab a few of what Gertrude had called pancakes, which she topped with some fruit, as well as eggs and bacon. Heading outside, she snagged the spot farthest from the door to one side. There were two empty glasses to each place setting so she went back in for some juice and hot chocolate. Having now been introduced to chocolate it was never to be passed up, hot or not. She had years of deprivation to make up for, after all.
The following hour or hour and a half passed by in one big blur of unfamiliar faces and confusing stories and recollections.
In the end there was closer to twenty people crowded out on Gertrude’s patio than a dozen, all loudly talking and laughing about old times and absent comrades. Morgan did her best to stay out of the way and only answer direct questions, aided by the fact that the wives tended to clump together in one corner, the smattering of husbands in another, the veterans in the middle. Gertrude moved about from one table to the next, hardly seeming to slow down long enough to eat or drink anything herself. She certainly didn’t have time to talk to Morgan, not that Morgan blamed her for the lack of attention.
Emily, interestingly enough, mostly stayed in the corner opposite Morgan, smiling at the jokes and stories, answering the various questions put her, but not volunteering much information herself. Clearly the men and women who had served with her respected her immensely, but it was more formal and stiff. Morgan gave up after a while trying to figure it out, instead choosing to concentrate on the surprisingly good food.
Even with the dining table practically groaning under the weight of all the food on it, several varieties ran out in short order, first being the bacon, unsurprisingly.
At last something seemed to shift in the gathering and couples started leaving. Within another twenty minutes there was only four people left besides Morgan, Gert
rude, and Emily. Morgan stood, placing her plate and utensils in the plastic box with all the other dirty dishes.
“I think it’s about. . .” she started saying when a man she had not seen previously walked out onto the patio and somehow managed to clear his throat loud enough to be heard and yet remain unobtrusive.
“Is the child-wrangling proceeding apace, Boris?” Emily asked with a faint smile. The man stepped closer and Morgan noticed that he had several food stains on his otherwise immaculate black vest and pants, and there were a few damp spots on his white dress shirt.
“Lady Novan, while I am sure you jest, I fear wrangling may indeed be the best verb for it. These children seem to believe that any picosecond spent not exuberantly engaged in horseplay is wasted. They didn’t waste the food, at least,” Morgan noticed his hand twitch, as if he was stopping himself from pointing “For the most part.”
“Thank you Boris. I had the utmost faith in your abilities, wrangling or otherwise. Was there anything you needed?”
“Indeed, Lady Novan. Young mistress Haruhi was asking for her mother. Since the gathering is beginning to disperse I thought it an appropriate time to relay the request.”
Gertrude quickly slipped out of the room, followed a few step back by Boris. Morgan frowned slightly. It was time she left, but she didn’t feel right leaving without at least thanking Gertrude. Not wanting to talk to the two remaining couples Morgan busied herself picking up discarded dishes and fallen pieces of food. As she bent low to grab a bit of bacon from under a table Morgan sensed someone standing behind her.
Morgan straightened up before turning about, unsurprisingly finding Emily standing there.
“Persistent. And nosy as well,” Morgan said.
“Guilty, though I suppose it’s a bit silly to plead guilty to something you don’t feel is wrong.”
“Oh, why is that?”
“My job – any of them, pick one – basically revolves around knowing what is going on and making decisions based on that to make things run well. If I miss something important people could die on the one hand, or people could lose their livelihoods on the other. Such decisions weigh much more heavily on me than ‘being polite’ ever will, especially when I have to put on such a façade for my political interactions.”
The Long Black (The Black Chronicles Book 1) Page 12
