by V. S. Holmes
The rest is up to the choices you and a hundred other people make over the next few weeks. Why don’t you get some rest.
“I’ll try. Phil?” She stared at her hands, still dipped in the sand. The cursor blinked on her comm, waiting. Expectant. “Are you lonely?”
Good night, Dr. Bently.
Her shoulders slumped under the weight of his unspoken answer. “Night.”
She didn’t return to her room. How could she? It was as much hers as any hotel room she had taken over during her shovelbumming days. As much hers as the dorm on Samsara had been, or the tiny pod where she spent two unconscious years crossing star systems. She didn’t know where home was anymore. Would her ranch house still be there? Surely it would need a new coat of paint by now. Was the lawn mowed? Did they rent it out for her or just pay the mortgage until she returned?
She leaned back, pressing herself into the packed sand. If she closed her eyes perhaps even she, like the insects, would believe this was Chile. Or the boreal forest. Or whichever fabricated ecosystem she picked from the greenery arching over her head. She sank into the memory of pulling into her driveway, hearing the grind of old asphalt under her tires and the tick of her truck’s engine when she turned it off and sat for a moment. Every moment she could remember since blasting free of Earth’s atmosphere she had spent longing to go home. But now, hesitation tangled her homesickness.
Her key might still fit, but would she?
THREE
Stiffness woke Nel. She rolled her neck with a groan. “I don’t think I have the body for camping anymore,” she muttered, peering against the sunlight bathing her face. Somewhere above, a hideously cheerful bird chirped, and she fumbled for her sleeping bag zipper.
There was no sleeping bag. Or tent. Sunlight was beaming from mirrors and lamps just overhead. The chirping continued and she glared at the holographic message displayed over her wrist.
REMINDER: Shuttle Departure for Le Fe De Amor in T-105 minutes
She peered at the glowing red letters for a moment before parsing that if she didn’t hurry, she might miss saying goodbye.
“Fuck fuck fuck!” She scrambled to her feet and bolted to the nearest elevator shaft. Shoving through the doors, she jabbed at her communicator. No messages from Lin or Zach, or frankly anyone. Only one unread thread blinked in her inbox, and it was the four system reminders that she had apparently slept through. She swiped it clear and bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to blink exhaustion from her bleary eyes.
“C’mon,” she muttered to the elevator as the floors rolled past. Weight draped over her as the capsule hurtled outward. Another two seconds and it hummed to a halt at the residential level. She broke into a jog. Whatever she and Lin had was complicated, made even more so by the layers of their increasingly complex world and Nel’s own mercurial temper. But I’ll still miss her. More than she’d like to admit.
Tense voices slowed Nel’s steps as she rounded the last bend to Lin’s room. Shrinking back against the wall, she peered around the corner. Dar lounged beside Lin’s open door, feet crossed at the ankle. Despite the relaxed stance, a dark glare knotted his features. Lin blocked her doorway, arms crossed.
“I don’t really care what you think,” Lin snapped. “And I don’t want to get into this at all, let alone here and now. Just because you’ve suddenly grown some emotions doesn’t mean I have to put them above my own. You had your chance to see things my way years ago. You had another chance back on CE7.”
“I’m not suddenly interested in ‘seeing things your way,’” he spat, “I’m interested in my baby sister’s safety! I’m concerned this rabbit hole, this obsession whatever it is, will get you killed. You were on track for a promotion—”
“You demoted me! I could have been Ndebele’s intern—”
“I had my reasons. What kind of person follows someone across fucking space—” he hissed.
“Dar, language.”
She never corrects my cussing. So why was she bothering with her brother’s? Lin’s voice was tired but tense with something else. Fear? Nel fought back the urge to rush from behind the corner and wedge herself between them. Except Dar didn’t look like he was going to hurt her.
“Lin, please just think about it. Ayah and Ibu are worried too, you know.”
Lin’s hand slammed into the wall with a sickening thud. Tendons bunched in her throat, but Nel couldn’t say if it was pain or fury. “Is that why I haven’t heard from them in months? You’re holding them over my head until I sharpen up and fly straight?”
Dar looked away and his gaze halted on Nel, tucked by the door. She opened her mouth to apologize, but his head shook almost imperceptibly.
“You know I haven’t heard from them either. But they mentioned it before. And again, when Nel’s transfer docs came over their screens this morning. Associating with her is going to get you killed.” He shoved off the wall and made to reach for her shoulder but stopped a few inches shy. “Please, just consider it.”
Nel jerked out of sight again. A second later he almost collided with her as he strode around the bend. His gaze pinned her, but he said nothing, boots stomping long after he disappeared up the hall.
She peeked at Lin’s door again. It was shut, the corridor deserted. Dar clearly felt she threatened Lin somehow. Why do I feel like he just entrusted a huge secret with me? Drawing a deep breath, she stepped up to Lin’s door, heart hammering. She pressed her brow to the door, palm spreading across the gleaming metal. None of them want me here—fuck, I don’t even want to be here.
And every nasty comment her exes’ bigoted parents spat at her now drifted in the space stations recycled air lightyears from home. Intellectually she knew it wasn’t anything to do with sexuality—not if she was to believe Paul’s anecdote about his relationship with IDH’s hotshot Komodor Muda Udara Dar Nalawangsa.
She pressed the private intercom. “Lin?”
Silence.
“Sorry I’m late. Can I see you before you go?” Still nothing. “I saw Dar in the hall, looked kinda pissed. Do you—”
“Nel?”
She whirled to see Lin striding down the hall. Her gleaming electrosuit was perfectly fastened, long hair braided and tucked carefully away in preparation for the helmet of her space suit. The shadows under her warm eyes rocketed Dar’s words to the forefront of Nel’s thoughts. “What kind of person follows someone across fucking space?” She pulled a smile she didn’t feel onto her face. “Hey, babe. Just looking for you.”
“Me too.”
Nel stared after her for a moment. They hadn’t kissed since the gala. “Sentimental” was the last word Nel would use to describe herself, but the undercurrent of exclusion gave her new sympathy for all the exes she ghosted over the years. “You sleep okay?”
“Not really. Been up since 0500.” Lin frowned at Nel’s half-done suit. “You packed?”
“What?”
“Is your comm on? Did you get the messages?”
Nel glanced at her wrist. “Just a bunch of updates about your mission—”
“Our mission,” Lin interrupted. Her expression might have been a smile, were it not for the hardness in her eyes. “As of 0200 today you’ve been transferred to the Field task force.”
Excitement blasted through every one of Nel’s more complicated emotions. “What? Thank you!” She wrapped Lin in a tight hug. When it was only reluctantly returned, however, she stepped back. “You pulled strings?”
“Not me. Harris, I guess. Said he wanted someone like you on his team.”
Confusion dampened Nel’s thrill. She barely knew the man. What about the woman who almost single-handedly destroyed their second home appealed to him? Cut the shit, Bently, and be grateful. “Any idea what I’ll be doing?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe research? They’ll need data on CE7, Los Cerros—”
“Yeah, I know the abbreviation.” At Lin’s closed expression Nel forced tenderness into her voice.
“Sorry, just got a bit of mental whiplash. I’m happy to help any way I can.” Tagging along behind a stranger was better than nothing, but it was far from ideal. But I could try to find Mom. And Tabby. And Annie. And everyone else who went dark. It could be just the radio silence, but the shadow behind Emilio’s eyes at the gala and Lin’s extra avoidance frayed Nel’s tenuous trust.
Both their wrists flashed. “You better get ready,” Lin suggested. At long last, something close to amusement graced her regal features.
Nel backed toward her own room down the hall. “Don’t let them leave without me, okay?”
No sooner had her door hissed shut behind her than she was yanking her case from under her bunk. “Christ, Bently, your only chance to fast-travel back home and you’re about to miss it.” Her bags were mostly packed—honestly, she hadn’t really ever unpacked much more than a few items. She was triple-checking that both her father and Mikey’s cremains were tucked safely into her bag when the final call flashed on her wall screen. She shoved her last things into her bag and did a final sweep before jogging to the nearest outward-bound elevator.
It took a span of seven minutes to cross to the designated departure bay. To Nel, it felt like hours and a single heartbeat. Home. After having the possibility ripped from her, she wasn’t quite sure she believed she was actually going. Maybe she wouldn’t believe it until her boots were on terra firma.
A dozen shuttles awaited, hundreds of crew members and mechanics swarming their undercarriages. Even with her limited experience, Nel could tell these were nothing IDH had created. She glimpsed styles that were surely inspired by Russian and U.S. space tech. Instead of the modular, efficient equipment Odyssey usually hosted, these bore clunky heat shields and battered landing gear.
Emilio jogged up, a loose button-down open over a bulky black electrosuit. “Morning, Bently. Well rested?”
Nel snorted, but her expression must have been too somber to warrant teasing. “What’s the deal?”
“You’ll be on my shuttle. We’ll get you loaded up and head out, then you’ll be checked into the med bay for cryo-prep. I’ll be up front, but I can walk you over, if you’d like.”
Nel frowned. “Cryo? You guys beamed out of that gate like fucking Solo. You telling me I still have to be locked in a tin can for this?”
He chuckled and led her to the third shuttle from the left. “Gate-passage is dangerous and takes far longer than it looks like from where you were.”
Nel’s hopes sank. “So what’s the point?”
“I don’t know about you,” Emilio confided, “but I’d take a two-week flight over two years.”
“Wait, I thought black-hole stuff looked like it took forever from the outside and was fast inside.”
“I’m no ah, ingeniero aeroespacial? But I believe this is closer to a wormhole.”
Nel snorted. “Can I opt-in to being awake? I’ll wash your space dishes or whatever you want.”
He strode up the loading ramp with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, we already have a busboy for the mess, but we’ll find you some busy work once we land. I promise,” he winked, “we’ll be home before you know it.”
A klaxon blared from somewhere in the shuttle’s bowels and he swore. “Med bay is down that hall to the left. I’ll see you when we’re planetside.”
Nel trailed off in the direction he indicated, counting her breaths in a failing attempt at maintaining control. Fucking cryo. Emilio may have been her one nebulous tether to Earth, but with the high-tech words rolling off his mouth as easily as his Chilean Spanish, that connection was fading fast.
Lin emerged from the large room that smelled of antiseptic and pulled her into a service alcove. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Nel responded, uncertain.
Lin pressed her brow to Nel’s, eyes fluttering closed. Nel forced her eyes shut and gripped the other woman’s hands. Steam hissed. Boots clomped on metal grates. A dozen different languages shouted instructions and warnings.
“You alright?” Nel whispered. She wished Lin would ask her the same but had no idea how she’d begin to answer.
“Yeah. Just nerves. It’s been a strange few months. Years. I miss my family.”
“Me too.” Nel squashed the bitter voice chirping that she had a lot more change to contend with than Lin. It wasn’t a competition. “We’ll be okay, though. I’ll try to be less of an asshole. And I’ll help, promise.” She tried a chuckle, but it fizzled between them. “I’ll have the home court advantage.”
“Home court?”
“I swear you have the strangest gaps in your understanding of Earth lingo. It’s a sporting reference. Familiar ground gives us an advantage…” She trailed off. “Never mind.”
Somewhere outside engines screamed to life.
“Am I going to see you again before we get put out?”
Lin shrugged. “I don’t think so, but I put in a request for our pods to be next to each other.”
Nel laughed and squeezed her hand. “Well, have a good trip. Miss you.”
“You too. And you’ll wake up before you ever miss me.” Lin dropped a kiss on Nel’s lips before backing away into the med bay with a last little wave.
Nel tilted her head back against the battered corridor wall. It’s just cryo. You did it before. But she couldn’t remember the moments beforehand. She barely recalled the days leading up to it, even now, months after waking. Had she been afraid? Cool-headed? She snorted and jerked herself upright. According to Mindi, from the moment Nel slid squalling and furious into the world, she had never been cool-headed.
“Dr. Bently?” A dark face peered through the doorway. “We’re ready for you.”
Nel tried a friendly smile, but by the pity on the tech’s face, she figured she looked closer to constipated. “That makes one of us.”
Heavy hooks and anchor rings lining the bay told Nel it had once been used for cargo. Or at least, I hope that’s what those are for. Cellulose curtains cordoned off each cubicle, though most hung open and vacant by now.
The tech stepped into one, pulling the curtain closed once Nel followed. “It’s simple, and we give sedatives. Just a few questions and scans first.”
Nel hopped up on the table, recognizing Jem. “Oh, hey again. Do you need me to strip?”
“In a moment. For now, you’re fine.” Their eyes crinkled. “Nice job playing it cool in the committee there.”
Nel winced, face heating. “Playing it cool is something I’ve never been good at.”
“Well, some of us space folk don’t mind when the officers get hardballed. When was the last time you were on Earth?”
“Ah, a couple months ago? You were there when I came out, actually.”
The tech glanced up and smiled. “I was, but this is as much about what you recall as facts.”
“Well, very little. I lost the whole week before cryo, except for flashes.”
“That’s probably the sedative. I can lower it this round.” They made a note on the holochart and turned a dial on the bank of fluids hanging from the wall. “Any chance you’re pregnant?”
Nel snorted. “I’m a lesbian.”
They held her gaze. “That tells me about your preference, not your genitals, or those of your partner.”
“Right. Um, no chance, no.” Nel shuddered. She liked her friends’ kids well enough, she supposed, but the idea of tethering her life to another person was uncomfortable enough when they were both independent adults. She had little interest in making or caring for a pink raisin of her own.
“Good. Any underlying conditions? Chronic illness? Tachycardia? Anxiety?”
Zach’s analysis of her mental state flickered in her mind, but she shook her head. “Not that I know of. This more dangerous if I did?”
“Depends, but it’s always good to know the whole picture. Cryo lowers your body’s systems, and if some of yours work differently we need to adjust levels.”
“What happens if yo
u die in cryo?” The question was out before Nel realized she didn’t really want an answer.
Jem glanced up from their examination of Nel’s forearm. They paused, meeting her eyes. “I’m told it’s like going in your sleep.”
“I see.” Silence hung between them while Jem returned to their notes.
After another moment they looked up. “Alright, ready to get wired up?”
Nel tugged off her suit, folding it carefully on the exam table before turning back and raising her chin. She blenched at the cold cleansing alcohol and the pinch of the needle. A moment later the injection burned. She didn’t dare look down at the gentle tugging of Jem inserting the mainline through her carotid. It’s fine. Just needles. Just cryo.
“Dr. Bently?” Jem asked.
Nel hummed.
“Can you look at me, please?”
Nel’s gaze flicked down to the tech’s. “What?”
“I need you to take a few long, slow breaths. In through the nose—”
“Out through the mouth, yeah, I know this one.” She was too distracted to regret the snapping tone. She obeyed, however, fixing her attention on the rings of the cubicle curtain. The edges of her vision darkened. “Aren’t I supposed to be in the tin can before I go under?”
“I’ve just given you some sedatives. Why? Dizzy?”
“Just vision’s tunneled a bit.” She licked her lips, mouth tasting of metal and sawdust. “Bit woozy. Feel like I’m having a heart attack.”
“I see. That’s pretty normal when you’re nervous. Keep breathing, I’m almost done. Let me know if you think you’re going to pass out or vomit.”
She forced her hands to unclench from the exam table’s covering. “Just been a wild few weeks.”
“You can say that again,” Jem muttered. A few careful movements later and they were withdrawing the needles, leaving the mainline taped and coiled. “Alright, let’s get you bundled in.”
Nel slipped her suit back on, letting Jem attach the port to its twin above her left breast. When she stood her knees trembled, but her legs held. Each of the smaller rooms lining the outer edge of the medical bay held twenty cryo pods and Jem led Nel to the nearest one.
