by N M Tatum
Sam hadn’t thought about it that way until she came aboard Sonic. The Notches may have teased her a bit about the mask, but they never treated her worse because of it. They treated the mask as an accessory, not part of her body.
That’s when she realized she had not been doing the same.
The skin around her mouth was a shade paler than the rest of her face. It didn’t get the same amount of light as the rest of her skin, and the seal the mask formed as it suctioned to her face affected her blood flow. Her lips were pale pink, like a salmon’s belly.
She wet a washcloth and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. They grew dry and crusted with spit throughout the day; a detail she would never share with anyone. She ran the cloth over the rest of her face and looked at herself again.
An unexpected sadness grew in her. She was struck with the fact that she could feel this way—accepted, safe being herself—and then realize what she had missed out on so many years by hiding. She wanted to focus on the positive, on the fact that she was not that little girl on the streets anymore, hiding and struggling. She was a feared mercenary, a successful mercenary, and now, she had friends she could trust.
The sadness did not go away, but she refused to let it win. She put the mask under her pillow and lay down in bed. The Notches returned a short time later. Joel and Reggie, both quite drunk, tried to be quiet, but still stampeded through the bunk like elephants. They passed out quickly, though.
For the first time in years, Sam did not fall asleep to the sounds of crime on the streets or the worries that were constantly streaming through her head. Instead, she fell asleep to the sound of Reggie snoring, which she strangely found calming.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sonic Shuttle
If the sun could shine through the hull of Sonic, Sam would swear that she felt its warmth on her cheeks. She woke in an uncharacteristically good mood, a smile stretching across her face before she even rolled out of bed. The potency of her good mood was matched only by that of her appetite.
“Guys,” she called through the curtain that was her bedroom door. “What’re we doing for breakfast?”
“Smurflepuffins,” Joel mumbled.
Sam almost asked what that was before she realized that it was the hungover ramblings of a man woken too early from a late night.
“Come on,” Sam said. “I’m starving. Get up and make breakfast.”
“Go flufflegurf,” Joel said, sounding like he had a mouthful of cotton balls.
“Don’t know what you just said, but it sounded like you were cursing me out.”
“Yes,” Joel answered, but not even his muffled obscenities could dampen her mood.
“All we have is oatmeal,” Cody said. “And it’s not even steel cut. I wish we had some bacon.”
Reggie, who had been snoring until now, woke with a sudden snort. “Bacon? Yes, please.”
“We don’t have any bacon,” Cody said. “I said I wish we had bacon.”
Reggie groaned. “I wish you hadn’t said anything about bacon. That’s all I want now.”
“Whatever, guys. We’ll figure it out.” Sam threw on her clothes, buzzing with energy and antsy to get her day started. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this pumped. “I’m coming out, so make sure your morning wood is all tucked away.”
The guys collectively grumbled awkwardly.
Sam swept the curtain open and stepped into the bunk room. The guys were fumbling with their blankets, none looking at her. That’s when she realized that she wasn’t wearing her mask. Time slowed down. Each of the guys’ eyes rolled slowly toward her. She could see them clearly, each eyelash bristling as they moved, the color of their irises coming into view like a lake on a revolving planet.
Her face felt like it was on fire. A debate raged in her head, happening at hyperspeed. Put the mask on, or let them see my face? Each side of her brain took a position and argued with impassioned pleas and faultless logic.
The guys sat up, leaning closer to stare at her. They were blinking at her across the room, trying to see her clearly, but she had yet to decide. She wanted more time. She couldn’t allow the decision to be made for her, to let them see her face just because she had failed to act. And suddenly, her decision was made. If I allow them to see my face, it will be done intentionally, not as an oversight.
She ducked back into her room just as the guys set their eyes on her. They’d caught a glimpse, like a reflection in a broken mirror. Enough to get a sense of what they were looking at, but not the whole picture.
That sense alone was enough to fluster them. They felt like they’d just seen a shooting star. Something beautiful in their periphery that was gone in a flash and left them wondering whether they’d really seen it at all. They fumbled their way out of their blankets, like cats trying to get out of a paper bag, and rushed to the kitchen before Sam reemerged from her room.
They were clanging around the kitchen when she arrived, trying to act natural and failing miserably. Cody got started on making a big batch of oatmeal for everyone, while Joel started boiling some water. They were out of coffee, and he didn’t like tea, but brewing it was something to do besides think about how beautiful Sam might have been.
Reggie sat at the table, hands folded, bouncing his feet and wishing he’d thought to boil water before Joel.
That sense of sadness grew larger inside Sam. The safety she was so excited to have last night already felt like it was slipping away. She wanted to trust that it would stay, but life had given her no reason to trust in anything other than inevitable disappointment.
Reggie’s eyes went wide suddenly when he thought of something to say. “You skipped out early last night, Cody. You missed an epic game Rock, Paper, Dragon.”
Cody’s eyes lit up at having something to do other than stir oatmeal. “Yeah, I need to talk to you guys about that. I came back to study a ShimVen sample I collected at the space station.”
“You’re right, we should talk about that,” Joel said. “You left the best gaming bar ever to dissect a giant bug? I think something might be wrong with you.”
Cody explained his findings and his theory that Layton was using the ShimVens to sabotage its competitors. The news landed like his dense, overcooked oatmeal in the center of the table.
“Who gives a shit?” Joel said, poking at a nearly solid mass of oatmeal with his spoon.
“What do you mean ‘who gives a shit’?” Cody said. “It’s illegal. They’re causing millions of dollars in damage. I think a guy was even killed on the Waystation.”
Joel shrugged. “Sounds like rich people being rich people. They get in a fight, the rest of us get shit on. We at least found a way to get paid.”
“Are you serious?” Cody asked, offended.
Joel continued poking the oatmeal. “Are you serious with this? I need a real breakfast.”
“We can’t just ignore this,” Sam said. “We have a responsibility.”
“We have a responsibility to kill bugs,” Joel emphasized. “That’s our job. And aren’t we helping solve the problem by eliminating their ShimVen infestations?”
“No,” Sam said. “We’re just cleaning up their mess.”
Cody clenched his jaw. He wanted to throw something at Joel. “What do you think, Reggie?”
Reggie seemed like he was on another planet, his mind on something else.
He snapped back to the present. “I don’t know. I mean, we’re exterminators. Our job is to exterminate bugs… We aren’t police.”
Cody stood and planted his fists on the table. “No, we aren’t police. Yes, we are exterminators. But that’s not all we are, and this gives us a chance to prove what else we can be.”
“Stupid?” Joel said. “Because this corporate espionage bullshit is the only reason we’ve gotten paid so far. We do anything to fuck that up, and we’re out future high-paying jobs.”
Reggie stroked his chin and stared off again, like he was looking into another time or place, two d
ifferent futures decided by two different decisions. “I think we need more to go on before we take this to the authorities or intervene at all. We’ve just got a theory so far. Police can’t do anything with that, and we’d just get laughed out of the station.”
Cody relented, not wholly disappointed, but not satisfied either. “Fine. I’ll chase down some more leads, then. There is something here, I know it.” He marched out of the kitchen without eating breakfast.
The others seemed deflated. “Bunch of bullshit,” Joel said, still poking at the mass of oatmeal. “Chasing conspiracies. How about chasing up some goddamn bacon?”
Reggie perused their bare pantry. “We do need to make a supply run. Food and general supplies are low. We should make some upgrades to the ship as well, while we have the money for it.”
“Good idea,” Sam said. “There’s a place on this station. I’ll let them know we’re coming.”
Tension was thick on Sonic all morning. Sam ached for the optimism she’d woken with, and then grew angry with herself for falling so easily for the belief that it was something she could keep. She’d had to break herself of that naivete as a child, after only weeks on her own. It wouldn’t take long to break herself of it again.
The tension was soon replaced by optimism. Stress never lasted long with the Notches. Joel went shopping for supplies and basic necessities, and the cupboards were fuller than they had ever been. Full of food they actually looked forward to eating. Reggie got the ship fueled and upgraded. The engine got a boost, making Sonic faster and more reliable when flying in rough conditions. The internal sensors were repaired, allowing Cody to run more thorough diagnostics and keep on top of trouble areas as they arose. And they decided to upgrade their sleeping arrangements. Each of the Notches got a mattress, trading up from the uncomfortable cots they’d been sleeping on.
“We can’t perform at our best if we don’t get some rest,” Reggie said.
But, even with all that, negativity clogged the air.
“Well,” Reggie said. “That tapped us out.”
Joel grumbled. “Seems like we’re always working, but we never have any money.”
Reggie scoffed. “We just got all those internal upgrades. Our pantry is full. And you’re going to sleep on a mattress tonight. But you’re whining because you don’t have any cash in your pocket?”
Joel snorted his offense. “That’s right. I’ve got no money for the honeys. How am I supposed to take a girl out on a date without any cash to my name? It’s all wrapped up in this ship.”
“This ship is our future,” Reggie said. “No ship, no business. No business, and we’ve got nothing to any of our names.”
Sam watched them go back and forth a minute longer, exchanging barbs and bitching at each other over one thing or another. It evolved from money to everything else. Sam realized they weren’t mad about money—well, not just money. They were frustrated about a lot of things, and it was coming out as anger focused at each other. She had no interest in helping them untangle their shit, so she left.
There was another mess of shit that interested her. Cody had his wristcom cloned on the large display on the bridge. There were several windows open, each showing the homepage of a different major player in the pharmaceuticals market. He was copying down contact information for executives, administrative assistants, and anyone with a contact listed.
“You think I’m wasting my time?” he asked Sam without turning around to look at her.
“No.”
She left without saying anything else. She’d felt off since stepping out of her room without her mask. Like she’d never put it back on, and all her vulnerabilities were on full display. She only knew one way to overcome that uneasy feeling—train.
The cargo hold had been largely converted into a gym since they rarely had any cargo. Weightlifting equipment occupied one corner. Sam had set up a training dummy and some obstacles opposite that. The other two-thirds of the cargo hold was divided between actually holding supplies and empty space. There was also a small computer station that Cody had set up so he could run diagnostics in the rear of the ship while monitoring the systems in real-time.
Sam kicked off her shoes and taped her wrists and ankles. Her knuckles were scarred from her days on the streets. She’d realized fast that the only way she could overcome her fear of living alone, of scraping by, of dying in the gutter, was to fight. That’s why she was still alive.
Squaring up with the dummy, she bounced on the balls of her feet. Then she unleashed a flurry of punches and finished with a leaping elbow to the dummy’s head. She reset and launched the same combo again. She reset and tried another. Soon, sweat was rolling off her, making her clothes stick to her body.
Only when she took a break to get some water did she realize that Reggie was on the weight equipment. “You just come in?” she asked him.
Reggie chuckled. “Man, you really get absorbed when you’re training. I’ve been here for, like, ten minutes.”
“And I’ve been here for five.”
Sam spun to see Joel in the center of the empty space, working with General Pepper on some training of his own. “Surprised to see you two in the same room.”
Joel and Reggie both looked confused.
“Why?” Reggie asked.
“You were just fighting in the kitchen,” Sam said.
Joel laughed. “That wasn’t fighting. That was us expressing a difference of opinion. We’ve had some fights over the years, and that was not one of them.”
Reggie lay on the bench press and lifted the bar, an impressive amount of weight on it. “Even if it was a fight.” He dropped the bar to his chest and groaned as he pressed it back up. “We get over them quick.”
That concept was foreign to Sam. She was used to fighting to the death; her disagreements usually ended with broken bones. A difference of opinion meant severed contracts and, more than once, severed limbs. There was no reconciliation. Even with Bruiser, she was just a customer—a well-liked customer, but that was not reconciliation. It was business.
Joel tossed a piece of day-old hamburger to Peppy. “What? You thought we were all breaking up because we had different ideas about handling a problem?”
Sam unleashed another flurry of attacks on the training dummy. “Kind of. Yeah.”
Reggie racked the bar. “That’s not how it works. Not with family.”
Sam felt frozen inside. The idea rattled around in her chest like a lingering cold. She couldn’t quite catch her breath. But the congestion began to break, and something familiar started to emerge. She’d had a family once. She knew what family meant. She had stuffed that way down, tried to forget it. Clinging to it would have only gotten her killed.
She nodded like she understood.
Cody burst into the room, frantic. “Guys, we’ve got a serious problem.” His face was white, his brow sweaty. He looked like he might vomit. “Okay, so, I contacted some of Layton’s competitors. You wanted to chase it down? I chased it down.” He was breathless, his chest heaving.
“Dude, calm down,” Joel said. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Take a breath.”
“No time,” Cody said through broken breaths. “Two companies. Jasob and Chrisoff. I made contact.” Sam handed him a glass of water. He tried to drink and talk at the same time, and ended up pouring most of it down his front. “They both received shipments from Layton in the last month. That might seem weird, ordering products from a competitor, but it’s not. I asked. Layton holds a patent on a protein synthesis that most of the major pharmaceutical companies use in manufacturing their own product, and selling it to competitors is Layton’s major revenue stream, since losing most of their market share after the giant, angry baby scandal.” He took a deep breath and sat on Reggie’s workout bench. The others braced themselves to catch him, should he pass out. “Anyway, they’re both fine. No infestations at either location.”
“Shit, man,” Joel said. “Then what the hell are you freaking out about?”<
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Cody held up his wristcom. He opened a window and displayed it for them to see. “Because I contacted their third competitor, StrobeNet, on a station called Rever. Anyway, that place is a total shit-show right now.”
The scene on the screen was as Cody described. Absolute shit-show. People running and screaming. Sparks shooting out of the walls. Panels falling out of the ceiling. A ShimVen skittered by with a human leg dangling from its mouth. The owner of that leg came crawling after it, dragging himself across the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
A round face suddenly appeared on the screen, popping up from below like she’d been hiding. “Hello? Hello, are you still there?”
Sam smacked Cody across the shoulder. “Fuck sake, Cody. You had her on hold?”
“I needed to tell you guys what was going on,” he answered defensively. “This is the administrative assistant to the director of operations at StrobeNet. Real sweetheart.”
“Oh, there you are. Great.” The woman tried to maintain a congenial tone as hell erupted around her. Total professional. “As I was saying, your call is quite timely. We are experiencing a bit of a situation here, which I believe you are uniquely qualified to assist with.”
Joel stepped into view of the video call. “Lady, the goddamn world is coming down around you.”
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “Yes, it is, indeed.” She dared a glance over her shoulder. “It’s Phil’s birthday today. We were supposed to have cake in the breakroom. I really love cake.”
“Betty,” Cody said, trying to get her attention. “Focus.”
Her head snapped back toward the screen. “Yes, of course. Your call. Quite timely. The station is being evacuated now and is expected to be empty of personnel within the hour. The director of operations has authorized me to approve every measure necessary to clear this infestation as quickly as possible. I will approve whatever bid you submit, but you must come to Rever immediately. You don’t even need to submit the bid right now. You can bypass our normal bidding procedures. Submit it while you’re en route. Or after the job, I really don’t care. Just please come kill these goddamn bugs.” Her sweet smile never broke.
