by S. H. Jucha
“We’ve a rudimentary construction vehicle for your transport, Envoy,” Latormus said, indicating the passageway out. “Three may ride comfortably. Six may sit in the bed.”
Jessie divided the twenty. He requested that Harbour travel with eight suited spacers on the first trip. The next to ride in the vehicle would only be suited individuals. The final group would be Jessie and the Pyreans who would require gear from the shuttle.
“How many of you are vac suit trained?” Jessie asked the final group.
Of the four, three raised their hands. When the three saw Imian stand forlornly with his hands at his side, they chuckled unnecessarily.
Jessie eyed the three individuals. “Stationers, right?” he guessed. In reply, they nodded in the affirmative.
“Figures,” Jessie replied sarcastically. “Spacers wouldn’t find it funny. They’d worry about how to protect Imian. Tell you what, Imian, you stay close to me. I’ll get you safely to the shuttle. We’ll let these three individuals figure out how to navigate their way across a barren, airless moon.”
Incredulity crossed the faces of the three stationers.
“Scary thought, isn’t it?” Jessie remarked. “Now you know how Imian feels. All of you, listen up! You follow my orders precisely. Do nothing until I instruct you. Is that clear?”
Jessie received timid but clear replies from everyone.
When the construction car returned, the four eyed Jessie, and he ordered them to board. No one chose the front seats. They climbed swiftly into the car’s bed and sat with knees drawn to their chests to make small profiles. Jessie stared at them for a moment, grunted his satisfaction, and climbed into the seat next to the driver.
The driver checked over his narrow shoulder to ensure his passengers were ready, and then he accelerated the car through the tunnel. The driver drove his vehicle with abandon, and they soon arrived at the shuttle tube.
Jessie thanked the driver and directed his charges through the airlock. They found Harbour on the far side. She stood beside a pile of vac suits.
“You’ll find your names on the suits,” Harbour said to the foursome. “The captain got your sizes from JOS medical. They should be close in size, and they’re already coded to your first name.”
“You should be safely aboard the shuttle,” Jessie whispered to Harbour, as the foursome sorted through the pile for their gear.
“I’m looking after my investment,” Harbour whispered and kissed Jessie’s ear.
Three were busy donning their suits, but a confused Imian held his suit’s body, while he watched the others climb into theirs.
Jessie helped Imian don his gear, and he walked him through the activation process.
“I’m closing you up,” Jessie said to Imian. “Your air will automatically flow. Breathe easy. Understand?”
Imian was too frightened to speak. Instead, he nodded nervously. Then his fear was swept away to be replaced by a sense of calm. He gazed gratefully at Harbour through his faceplate.
Jessie reeled off a safety line from his suit and hooked it to Imian’s belt.
Harbour had checked the suits of the stationers. She gave Jessie a thumbs-up and closed her faceplate. She and the stationers took the lift first. During the ride, Harbour hooked her safety line to one of the stationers and instructed the others to latch on in a line. They cycled through the final airlock to Triton’s surface and waited.
Jessie and Imian caught the lift after it returned. When they emerged from the airlock, Jessie felt a tug on his safety line. He stopped and regarded Imian. The boy’s eyes were bulging. He was locked in place. It often happened to newbie spacers, and it spelled the end of nascent careers.
Jessie tried coaxing Imian over the comm connection, but Imian wasn’t answering.
“Jessie, swap with me,” Harbour called over a private channel. She unhooked her line, exchanging places with Jessie.
Harbour employed her full power. It was Aurelia who had discovered that vacuum didn’t prevent the transmission of the form of energy that empaths could muster. Imian was a wall of resistance in that she couldn’t sense what he felt. She determined that he was catatonic. She stepped in front of the teenager to block his view of Triton’s surface and the inky blackness beyond the horizon. It didn’t make a change in Imian’s state. She searched her mind, reviewing the conversations she’d had with Imian for a clue and found one.
Selecting a private comm channel, Harbour asked Imian, “Do you think I’m pretty?”
When Harbour didn’t receive an answer, she asked, “Does that mean you don’t like me?” She hated using her sex in this way, but it would be better to get Imian to walk to the shuttle under his own power rather than have him suffer the indignity of being carried by Jessie and the stationers.
Harbour saw Imian blink, and slowly, he focused on her face.
“What?” Imian croaked, belatedly realizing he’d been asked a deeply personal question.
“I was asking if you thought I was pretty,” Harbour repeated, smiling gently.
Imian blushed, and Harbour used the opportunity to bolster his confidence.
“You know you’re a most beautiful woman, Envoy. Why do you ask?” Imian replied.
“Just curious about your opinion, Imian,” Harbour replied. She felt a slight tug on her suit’s belt. Gripping Imian’s gloved hands, she stepped backward, guided by Jessie. She kept her face in front of Imian and continued to talk to him.
Jessie guided Harbour around rocks and crevices, enabling her to hold Imian’s focus. Glancing at Imian, he could see the boy’s mouth moving and knew Harbour had him on a private channel.
The shuttle had descended a mere hundred meters from the launch tube. But the pace was slow. It wasn’t so much that Harbour was in danger from a fall in the light gravity as much as they couldn’t afford Imian’s focus to be interrupted.
When the group arrived at the shuttle, Jessie sent his charges through one at time. Then he tapped Harbour on the shoulder, unhooked her safety line from Imian, and guided the boy into the shuttle’s airlock. Then he motioned Harbour to precede him.
Inside the shuttle, the Belle’s crew helped strip off suits and hang them in the aft end cabinets.
Imian approached Harbour, when he saw she was free of her suit. He stood silently in front of her. Tears spilled down his cheeks.
Harbour wrapped her arms around Imian and inundated his mind with forgiveness.
“I was so scared,” Imian choked out.
“I know,” Harbour softly said. Then she released him, took his hand, and guided him to a seat.
Imian glanced guiltily at Jessie. The spacer sat on the opposite side of him. “I guess I didn’t do too well,” he said.
“You and your father are the first downsiders to walk on Triton’s surface,” Jessie replied. “That’s what I advise you tell your friends. You can leave out the other parts.”
“No, I don’t think I can,” Imian replied. Some strength had crept into his voice. “Downsiders make fun of spacers, saying they’re too stupid to get better jobs than sucking slush or digging ore. I’m going to tell my friends and anyone else who’ll listen just how mind-numbingly frightening it is out here.”
Jessie nodded his approval at Imian’s sentiment and extended a hand.
Imian shook Jessie’s hand. “And,” he added, leaning back into the seat and closing his eyes, “I don’t mind saying that I hope to never walk in space again, and I’ll be extremely happy to get downside.”
The shuttle launched. It was a short flight before it landed aboard the Belle. Crew greeted the repaired and led them to cabins.
“Welcome back, Envoy, Advisor,” said Dingles, when the pair made the corridor outside the bay.
Harbour hugged Dingles, and Jessie shook his hand.
Then the three made their way toward the bridge and Harbour and Jessie’s suite.
“Get an opportunity to load some slush?” Jessie asked Dingles.
“Only had time to transfer the
Annie’s load and fill a few tanks,” Dingles replied. “It’ll earn enough coin to top off the reaction mass and water tanks.”
“There’s every chance that you can be freed after we return to the JOS,” Harbour said. “Then you can load six months’ worth of slush. However, before you launch from the station, I want you to make sure that every adult aboard this ship has a registered comm unit. It’ll be on my coin.”
For a moment, Dingles frowned, and then his face brightened. “Aye, aye, Envoy,” he said. “We’ll need every vote.”
Jessie thought that they’d make their call to Liam and Henry, when they made their suite, but Harbour had other plans. They had a delicious meal, drinks, and retired, while the Belle sailed for Pyre’s primary station.
* * * *
After Imian settled into his cabin, he summoned the courage to explore the ship and was soon lost in the maze of corridors.
“Need some help?” Imian heard. He turned to face a teenage girl, three or four years younger than himself.
“Yes, I do,” Imian said apologetically.
“You’re Imian Tuttle, aren’t you?” Sasha asked.
“Yes,” Imian acknowledged quietly. He prepared for a verbal lashing but certainly not for what the girl said next.
“I’m Sasha Garmenti. Downsiders locked up my family for most of my life.”
Sasha watched Imian’s mouth open. He attempted to speak, but nothing came out. She could sense his embarrassment, his shame. It wasn’t what she expected a downsider to feel. She slipped her hand in his and pulled him along, as she said, “Come on. It’s this way to your cabin row.”
They didn’t make Imian’s cabin. Sasha was curious about Imian’s experience aboard Rissness Station. As they walked and talked, their conversation became amiable.
At one point, Sasha asked, “What happened to you?”
“What do you mean? When?” Imian inquired.
“What happened to your arrogance?” Sasha retorted. “You’re a prominent family member.”
“Oh, that,” Imian replied, chuckling. “Let’s see … near-death experience, aliens, exotic medical procedures, alien dome travel, a walk on Triton’s surface, and … oh, yeah, Envoy Harbour.”
“That last one can be more sobering than all the rest,” Sasha remarked, and the two teenagers broke out in laughter.
“Fruit juice in the cantina,” Sasha offered.
Imian’s steps stuttered to a halt. He would have released Sasha’s hand, but she held tightly. “I don’t want you to lose friends because of me,” he objected.
“I won’t,” Sasha replied blithely. “Most people pretend to like me, but secretly they’re scared of me.”
“Why’s that?” Imian asked.
“I’m an empath, and one day, I might be as strong, or stronger, than Harbour,” Sasha said proudly. Then she hesitated, regarded Imian with concern, and asked, “So, are you scared of me now?”
“Envoy Harbour was nothing but kind to me. I froze on Triton’s surface. I couldn’t move, and she talked me out of it. I would do anything for her,” Imian explained. Then he leaned close to Sasha, and in a conspiratorial tone, he added, “In fact, that’s just what I plan to do.”
“Ooh, a secret,” Sasha cooed. “Tell me more.” She linked arms with Imian and guided him toward the cantina.
-25-
What Are You?
Sika heard Harbour and Jessie were aboard ship, but despite careful tours through many corridors, she couldn’t confirm it. Contacts she’d made, residents who now called her friend, told her they’d heard the couple were aboard, but they hadn’t seen them either.
What Sika learned from crew was that they expected to return to Emperion after a brief visit to the JOS.
Sika knew the twenty repaired were aboard. Some of those individuals she’d met in her wanderings. More important, she’d learned that Imian Tuttle was among the twenty. When she heard that, she scoured her memories, trying to recall if she’d met the youth, even briefly.
In the end, Sika didn’t think it mattered. She determined it would be best to avoid meeting him. In the unfortunate event that they did meet, the question was whether Imian would recognize her. If he did, would he acknowledge her? If that came to pass, Sika would face a conundrum.
If Imian exposed her, she would be caught, and her value to her mistress would end. Dorelyn would be forced to deny any connection with her, if not send someone to eliminate her. If, on the other hand, she removed Imian before he could identify her, then she would have killed a prominent family’s child. The result would be the same. Dorelyn would have to sacrifice her to appease her council co-leader.
On one of Sika’s forays to spot the envoy and her advisor, she had a brief glimpse of Sasha. As a habit, she avoided the empath, who always tended to frown during their brief conversations. She couldn’t determine what Sasha’s reaction meant, but she didn’t like it.
On this occasion, Sika found Sasha chatting with a youth a few years older than her, and she paused to watch from the shadows. She hadn’t seen the boy on the ship until recently, and she considered that he was one of the repaired.
When Sasha laughed and playfully tapped the boy’s arm, Sika slipped out of sight. The boy was familiar to her, and that bothered her. He could be a resident, to whom she’d just never paid much attention. It could also be true that he was a stationer who had come aboard when she did, and their paths had never crossed.
Sika deduced that the only exposure she suffered was if the boy was Imian Tuttle. But that seemed highly improbable. She couldn’t envision a Garmenti enjoying herself in the company of any downsider.
Time grew short for Sika. The Belle had crossed the midpoint between Triton and Pyre. She waited until she had a day off from her duties. Then she rose, ate, and took a circuitous route to the bridge. If she was questioned, she wanted it to appear as if she’d gotten turned around.
The ship’s third officer had come off duty two hours ago, but he had reports to file and had decided to do them before retiring. He exited his office and ran into a middle-aged woman. “Can I help you?” he politely asked her.
“Oh, hello,” Sika replied, pretending surprise.
“Are you looking for someone?” the officer asked.
“No, I was just wandering around. I’m Luna, Makana’s friend.”
“Pleased to meet you, Luna,” the officer replied. “This is the bridge section. We’re underway, which means only officers and crew are permitted up here. Passengers must be escorted.”
“I understand,” Sika replied.
“Take this corridor,” the officer said, pointing, “and follow it around to the stairs. Then take them down two levels and proceed aft, you’ll run into the cantina.”
“Yes, I can find my way from there. Thank you,” Sika said.
The officer touched two fingers to his cap and walked off. Left with no other choice, Sika followed his directions to appear an obedient resident.
* * * *
“What is it?” Sasha asked Imian. She’d been touring him around the ship, and they’d just visited the bridge.
Empaths were the exception to the rule that officers and crew must provide escorts to the bridge for residents while underway. Too many spacers owed their livelihoods and some their lives to the empaths, especially to Harbour. Then again, there was Sasha, who was an exception unto herself.
“It’s that woman,” Imian said. They’d just overheard the last of the conversation between a woman and the third officer.
“What about her?” Sasha asked, suddenly intensely curious about what Imian had to say.
“Her voice is familiar,” Imian replied, “but I don’t remember it coming from a middle-aged woman. I thought it belonged to a younger woman, maybe ten or more years younger. Do you know her?”
“She came aboard when medical brought you aboard,” Sasha replied. “Her name is Luna, and she’s supposed to be a stationer who Makana met and befriended. Luna’s training under Makana now.”
Imian was watching Sasha, when the empath frowned and added, “But she’s odd.”
“Odd how?” Imian asked, as they wandered aft.
“I can’t read her,” Sasha replied.
“I thought you were the all-powerful empath,” Imian teased, which earned him a scowl and a swat on the arm.
“Ow!” Imian complained. “That arm is getting sore. Try hitting the other one. On second thought, don’t hit me at all.”
“Okay, promise I’ll make it lighter,” Sasha said.
Impulsively, Sasha rose on her toes and quickly kissed Imian on the cheek. “Better?” she asked hopefully. It was her first kiss of a boy, and she was exhilarated and embarrassed. She clamped her gates shut lest she expose her emotions to him.
Imian smiled and replied, “That’s better.” He suddenly realized that Sasha had developed a crush on him, and that meant he had to be careful with her for so many reasons.
“Why don’t you get a read on that woman?” Imian asked, trying to redirect the conversation.
“I don’t know, but I never do,” Sasha replied. She’d expected Imian to say something about the kiss, and she was disappointed he didn’t.
“Has that happened with others?” Imian inquired.
“With empaths, all the time,” Sasha replied. “They’re trained how not to broadcast, but with normals, no. They can’t help splashing their emotions about.”
“I’m considered a normal, right?” Imian asked.
“You are,” Sasha admitted.
“So, you’re reading what I feel all the time,” Imian pursued.
“As a rule, we aren’t supposed to read normals without their permission, but I’m not good at keeping to the rules,” Sasha said apologetically. “When I kissed you, you said it was better, but that’s not what you felt. Before I closed my gates, I sensed your concern, even a little fear. Why was that?”
“You don’t make it easy, do you?” Imian replied.
“I’m told I don’t make it easy for anyone,” Sasha said with reluctance. “Don’t you like me?”
“No, that’s not it,” Imian said earnestly. “I do like you, but as the sister I’ve never had. The crew and the stationers are uncomfortable in my presence, but not you. You accept me as I am.”