Her famous parents, but they were both dead now. Nona had messaged her after her mom passed, just before the jalinerines were approved. Satyana? Satyana ran concerts. Whatever the pirates wanted from the inner system, surely it wasn’t music. Satyana knew people with power, and got her picture taken with high councilors from time to time. Who in particular are you thinking of?
She didn’t expect it to answer, but it did. Gunnar Ellensson runs a fleet of ships that have been turned into a defensive force.
The last time I saw Gunnar Ellensson, I wasn’t even full-grown. I don’t have any influence over him.
Satyana Adams is his lover.
Oh. Good for Satyana. Maybe. Gunnar had a reputation for being ruthless. She remained silent.
One of the many things you may be asked to teach humans is that we can destroy their ships with no effort. Gunnar needs to know that.
I’m fairly certain he noticed the absence of the High Sweet Home, she said. Yi moved another piece, this time a bigger one. Maybe a general? No. A top merchant. I want my family with me.
Of course. That is part of how we stay sane; being close to people we care about.
That’s true for humans, and for that matter it’s true for chickens and even plants. But is it true for you?
I am growing you flowers, aren’t I?
Go away and let me think.
It did, and soon she felt lonely. Besides, she had questions for it, and it was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
NONA
Nona entered the command room and found Henry James taking quietly with one of the other crew members, a woman named Joi who monitored the ships’ food supplies. Her eyes were wide, and her voice edgy and loud, although Nona couldn’t catch her specific words. They both looked up at her arrival, and Joi, now off-shift, fled the room without saying anything to her. Nona glanced at Henry James. “Anything I should know.”
“I’ll sit with you awhile and tell you, if you don’t mind.”
She did. They would be in Satwa’s airspace soon, and she wanted to gather her thoughts. But she couldn’t think of any polite way to ask him to leave, and she did need to know if there were problems on the last shift. “Is Joi all right?”
Henry James said, “As well as anyone.”
They sat side by side in command chairs, watching the view screen even though the station wasn’t yet visible. Henry was compact, with well-defined muscles and a strong chin. Tattoos covered the back of his hands and wove up his arms, one for every ship he’d ever been on. His hands were inked black and white and grey for various crew positions. The tats representing ships where he’d been an officer were in subtle colors, and anything he’d captained included brighter colors. Blues and greens, punctuated with ship’s names in reds. So while his hands were all black and white, color bloomed and brightened from just above his wrists to just below his still-bare elbows.
If she followed that practice, she would have one colored tattoo, and only the one for captain. It bothered her, and she was sure it bothered him, but she wasn’t about to give up her position.
She had flown with him for almost half a year and they were at best uneasy acquaintances.
Charlie opened the door. She’d requested that he join her right after shift change. He nodded a hello at her and Henry James. “Good morning.”
Best to see what Henry James wanted before she talked to Charlie. “Why don’t you watch from the conference room?” she said.
Charlie had the grace not to look at all bothered. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, while Henry James stayed quiet.
Charlie walked between them and went to the back of the room and through the door to the conference room. During the long weeks of flight here, the ship’s AI had reported rampant rumors of a sexual relationship between her and Charlie. While on one level the rumors amused her, they also angered her a little, especially given that they weren’t true. But she had become careful not to feed them, and spent less time with Charlie. But he was an ambassador, and should be here when they docked.
The autopilot shifted their course slightly and the station came into view. Even though it was quite small when compared to the Deep, Satwa still dwarfed the Savior. Docking bays lined both sides of a long metal cage. Inside of the box, a large structure that looked a little like an oversized ship provided life support and human habitat.
The nav computer spoke up. “Cargo carrier Hercalum IV approaching from right, passing distance legal.”
“That’s three in the last hour,” Henry said. “We’re the only ships flying this direction.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“The crew’s talking about it, you know,” he told her.
She stiffened. “Of course they are. You and I would be if we were crew.”
“I am crew.” A touch of bitterness had seeped into his voice.
It got her attention. “Not really. Satyana said she sent you so I’d have a good second.”
He went quiet for a moment, watching the station grow bigger on the screen in front of them. “If you treated me like a second-in-command, you’d ask me what I think from time to time, and involve me in decisions.”
She stiffened and took a deep breath. “Seeing the Next is why we came. There’s no decision to make about landing.”
He flexed his muscles so his tats rippled. “That’s the reason you came out here.”
“We’ll land long before the Next. They may not even notice we’re here.”
He stared at her. “Surely you don’t think that will keep us safe?”
It was her turn to go quiet. “How long have you flown for Satyana?”
“A hundred years.”
That startled her. “Really?”
He didn’t bother to answer that.
“You’ve been her captain before, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Not on the Savior,” he said.
“But you’re used to that role.”
“Yes.”
“I have to make the decisions now,” she said. “It matters to me.” Her voice sounded high-pitched. She winced, certain Henry James saw her as a stupid little rich girl.
He steepled his hands and rested his chin on them. After quite a long silence, he said, “I’m not questioning your right to be the decider. It’s not like Satyana to put someone with no experience in charge, but she did. At first I figured she was trying to keep you out of danger since you’re almost her only family. But here you are flying right into trouble, and I’m pretty sure she and Gunnar sent you here. But trouble is a dangerous place.” He glanced at her, his expression carefully neutral. “Even captains can benefit from advice. Maybe captains more than anyone else.”
She hadn’t heard so many words from him at once, ever. She was being schooled and she deserved it. She swallowed. “I’ll look for opportunities to ask you for your opinion.”
He stopped staring at the screen and looked directly at her. “Will you share why you’re doing this? It could kill us all.”
“The Next could do what they did to High Sweet Home to every single station in the Glittering. We have to understand what they want, and who they are. We have to change their minds.”
“You’re asking a civilian crew to risk their lives so a biology teacher can save the world?”
That stung. She didn’t dare react immediately, so she sat still, watching the external docking arms grow larger. Crew members bustled around the edges of the room watching the conversation from the corners of their eyes. She didn’t even know some of their names. “So what would you advise?” she whispered to him.
“I’d say stay in the general area but lay low. Don’t go all the way to where the enemy is landing until you know more.”
“Have you ever been in a war?” she asked.
“I’ve flown defense for Gunnar.”
“And did you run from the enemy then?”
His jaw was so tight it looked like it might crack if she touched it. “No.”
> Her composure was returning. She thought of Chrystal and her family. She’d met Katherine. She’d hadn’t met the men, but she’d read about them and seen pictures and video. Their deaths needed to mean something. “I don’t want to be a coward.”
He turned his head so that he looked right at her. “The line between bravery and stupidity can be hair thin.” He pointed toward the Satwa. “Her docking bays are almost empty of big ships. Most captains are protecting their ships and crews.”
“We’re doing this.”
“Then send some of the crew away. This isn’t a military ship; you don’t own them.”
She took a deep breath. She hadn’t expected him to keep arguing. “They signed contracts. We might need them.”
“They all saw the High Sweet Home torn apart.”
“So did I. For now, we’re holding course.”
He gave her an unreadable look—not quite hostile; not exactly forgiving. It made her want to wince. She repeated herself. “We’re holding course.”
As if the station had heard her statement, the first hail from the Satwa came over the loudspeakers and she and Henry and the rest of the staff in command looked up at the screens.
A woman with skin so white she must color it that way, pale blue hair and eyes to match, and large pink lips smiled at them, her image filling the screen so she seemed to loom into the room. “I’m Shoshone Remore, and it’s my job to welcome you to the Satwa. Your nav computer has instructions to guide you in. Ambassadors are to join us for our evening meal at 18:30 hours.”
Henry stood up. “I’d prefer to stay with the ship. I’ll look after the crew.”
He knew Nona didn’t have that choice. “Thank you.”
At 18:00, Nona sat in a bar sipping too-sweet white wine with Charlie. They had found a table in front of a window that looked out into the docking bays. To their left, the bays that held the Savior were far from empty. Ships in various stages of repair had all been pushed close together. On the right, various mechanical parts were slowly changing configuration, opening, creating room for a bigger ship. Only two other people occupied the bar, a man bent over his slate who hadn’t looked up since they came in, and a woman who was busy drinking shot after shot, each one brought on a gleaming tray by serving-bot.
“How dangerous do you think it is to be here?” Nona asked.
He pointed to the drinking woman. “Less dangerous than she thinks it is. But it’s bad.” He glanced out the window. “Think of it as a first-contact exercise, only we know the aliens we’re about to meet are hostile. We know they have bigger guns than we do.”
“You think the Next are aliens?” She plucked absently at a gingery bite from a small dish of fruit and cookies the bot had brought them when they sat down.
He countered with, “Do you think they’re human?”
“No.”
Shoshone walked in and pulled an empty chair over to their table. “You must be Nona and Charlie.”
“Yes.” They held out hands and introduced each other all around. Shoshone ordered water and helped herself to a piece of their fruit. She seemed even brighter in person, the colors she’d chosen for her body making her look as if she’d been hand drawn and sent off to live her life as an exercise in color-blocking.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Nona said.
“Don’t thank me too fast. You’re not welcome here.”
For a moment, Nona was too shocked to speak. “Do you think it’s our fault the Bleeding Edge is landing here?”
“Absolutely. And that all of my business has fled—except you. We’re too small to save the universe here. I came by to make sure you two know that.”
Nona bristled. “Then whose job is it?”
“This is a big solar system. We can let them take what they want and hope they leave most of us alone.”
“We could,” Charlie said. “I have to admit that I’m a little scared to be here.”
Shoshone smiled, and Nona relaxed a tiny bit. Charlie had figured out exactly the right thing to say.
“Have they talked to you at all yet?” Nona asked Shoshone.
“Just computer to computer. I hear they have pet humans, and I expect that’s who we’ll eventually see. I’ll tell you what I learn when I do. That’s why I came to find you. Let me manage this. It’s my station. I won’t have you putting the Satwa or its people at risk.”
Everyone was accusing her of risking lives. Didn’t they see the size of the stakes? “We can’t just give up.”
Shoshone shook her head. “It’s not my job to save the universe. It’s my job to save this station.”
“We’re just here to listen—and to report back to Gunnar. We won’t be in your way.”
Shoshone gave them an over-bright smile that looked like it belonged on a kid at a birthday party. “Nothing leaves this station—even information—without my approval while the Bleeding Edge is here. Do you understand that?”
When neither Nona or Charlie answered right away, Shoshone added, “If you don’t, you can leave right now. There’s three more hours for ships to get away before the Bleeding Edge docks. You can take advantage of that.”
Nona’s heart pounded so hard in her chest that she felt her heartbeat in her neck. “No.”
Shoshone looked from one of them to the other. “Either you acknowledge that I am in charge here—unequivocal charge—or you leave. We don’t run things Diamond Deep democracy style out here. I expect you to leave or join me and my senior staff for dinner.”
“We aren’t leaving.”
“And you won’t send anything in or out of this station without my permission?”
Nona felt backed into a corner. She couldn’t afford to become powerless and she wasn’t about to leave. “We’ll join you, but Gunnar Ellensson sent me. He owns a good part of this station, and I’m here at his bidding.” Nona stood up, which gave her a few inches of height on Shoshone. “If there is any message I deem an emergency to save my station or my ship, or that Charlie needs to get to Lym, I can’t promise I won’t send it. That’s what I’m here for. But if I can find you first, I will.”
Shoshone stared at her, hard, the tense lines of her body odd given her coloring, so she looked like a toy soldier.
Nona fought for calm while refusing to look away.
Eventually, Shoshone nodded and said, “Don’t kill us all for no good reason.”
“I’ll do my best,” Nona replied.
“I’ll see you in fifteen minutes. Dinner will be a formal welcome, as befits someone sent by Gunnar Ellensson.” Shoshone walked away. Maybe pranced was a better description.
The slight but approving smile that touched Charlie’s eyes told Nona that she had done well, and offered the tiniest bit of warmth to offset the ball of cold fear in her heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHARLIE
A long, silvery robotic arm delivered a light pastry with a red berry sauce drizzled across the top. Charlie hadn’t been so relieved to see a dessert course come in a long time. He and Nona were separated from each other by three people. There were twelve around the table. Shoshone and her intimate inner circle as far as he could tell. At any rate, there seemed to be an unreasonable amount of simpering, and that, in turn, appeared to be covering political undercurrents he had no idea how to read. The tension circling under the surface of the room was thick enough to drown in.
He had listened carefully during introductions, but he was certain the woman Gunnar had told them to find wasn’t here. Amia. Instinct told him not to ask.
He didn’t like being so far away from Nona that he couldn’t hear what people said to her, or how she replied.
Shoshone sat on one side of him. On the other side, a tall willowy person named Miro had the most alluring parts of both a man and a woman warring in his or her face: high sharp cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, full pink lips and a ridged brow. Miro was saying, “Surely if you used more nano down there, you could get the restoration done sooner, and then more
people could come visit. Isn’t Lym kind of like a big museum? And wouldn’t that make you more self-sufficient?”
Charlie took a sip of hot tea and reminded himself the awkwardness of the table talk almost certainly covered fear. After all, the Bleeding Edge would arrive just a few hours from now—which also kept wine and spirits off the table. At least Shoshone had that much sense.
The dinner felt surreal. If he were running the station he wouldn’t be eating now, at least not at a formal dinner. He’d be pacing, and searching news channels, and meeting with senior staff. He’d be trying to work through fears with people. Shoshone was hosting an awkward party and talking about everything but the threat bearing down on them.
He picked up the pastry and bit into it. It melted in his mouth, the berry flavor just tart enough to offset the sugary bread. “Museums are dead and about the past,” he told Miro, even though he didn’t expect anything he said here to matter. “Lym is alive, and what we’re doing there is for everyone’s future. We’re re-creating a healthy planet to remind us that we’re natural beings.” He winced. He must sound like he was lecturing.
Shoshone put a hand on his shoulder. “Pardon me. I need to interrupt.”
Her blue eyes were bright with some emotion he couldn’t quite identify. Excitement? Nerves? She lifted a hand and he heard a soft click. A screen blossomed to life, and Shoshone stood up. “I give you the last ship to leave us before the Next arrive.”
Realization dawned slowly. If it wasn’t the Sultry Savior pulling away, then it was her twin.
Nona had come out of her seat. “That’s my ship!”
“I was very clear about your choices,” Shoshone said. “I messaged your second. Told him you’d decided to send the ship away for now. For its own safety, of course.”
Charlie stiffened, angry and alert all at once. “Why?” he demanded.
“Because now I control every outgoing message from here. You’re from in-system. You can’t know what it’s like to live near the Next.”
Shoshone had said “Next” as if it were an honorific. He was beginning to understand the red flags the woman had been setting off inside of him. “Don’t you work for Gunnar?” Charlie asked. “He wouldn’t approve of this.”
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