by Zen DiPietro
Arin sat on the bench, leaning against the wall and stretching his legs out in front of him. “Maybe. But how would you find out who, and why, if that’s the case? You don’t have any family, do you?”
“No, not really.” But maybe that wasn’t as accidental as it had seemed. Had she been hiding from someone for decades? Someone who’d been after her family? “I’ll have to look into it.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Thanks, Arin. I will. And thanks for…” She waved a hand from her to him, then around to indicate the space. “All this.”
His face lit up. “You bet! It’s good motivation for me to train harder.” He stood. “I’m going to go to my quarters and shower, then put on a fresh uniform. I don’t want to offend the Briveen with my sweat stink.”
“Very thoughtful of you.” She wasn’t sweaty enough to need a shower, but she did have an appointment with Brannin to get to. She put their towels in the processor before locking the room up.
“Keep me posted on the Briveen,” she said as they parted ways.
“You bet. And keep me posted on what you turn up.”
“I will.” With a sigh, she headed to the infirmary.
“Look up,” Brannin Brash’s soft, cultured voice instructed. Em looked up as he shined a light into her eyes.
“Now down.” She cast her eyes to the floor.
“Left.” He peered into her eyes intently. “Now right.” He took a step back, slipping the tool he held into the pocket of his lab coat.
“See anything?” Em sat sideways on the techbed with her legs dangling over the edge. She’d been poked, prodded, scanned, and had offered up various fluids for inspection.
“A healthy young woman in her prime,” Brannin confided, as though delivering bad news. He was pretty good at deadpan humor.
“Nothing to worry about?” she pressed. “Anything that indicates a change in my brain?”
Now he looked regretful. “The swelling in your brain has disappeared and you’re the picture of health. But there’s nothing to indicate any particular regenerating activity.” He hurried on. “Not that that means anything. I can’t see memories, or the actual mechanism that conveys them. Your past may yet return to you.”
“What’s the statistical likelihood? Surely you must know that.”
His expression became guarded. “I don’t like to talk about statistics in a case like this. There are too many variables that can affect the outcome. Your case is unique, given the specificity of the memory loss and the nature of your wound.”
“Percentage.” She set her jaw and gave him a steely look.
He sighed. “From a purely statistical standpoint, I’d assess the likelihood of memory return to be twenty-three percent.”
“Twenty-three percent,” she repeated.
“Yes. But as I said, your case is unique. Statistics don’t always tell the whole story.”
“Right.” She slid off the techbed and reached for her belt, which Brannin had asked her to remove so that the stinger’s energy pattern wouldn’t affect her scan results. She felt better with its comfortable weight around her hips. “Anything else?”
He put his hand on her forearm. “I’d like you to speak with Gray.”
Her brain clicked the information into place. “Grayith Barlow. Station psychiatrist and counselor.” She hadn’t met him in person yet but she’d committed all officers’ names and faces to memory. She’d also begun working through the shopkeeps and the families of officers and shopkeeps. With a complement of seven hundred eighty-three people, it was taking Em time to memorize everyone. A couple more days and she should have it down.
“That’s right.”
“Why?” She didn’t love the idea of talking to a psychiatrist. She wasn’t about to spill all of her suspicions and activities, and tiptoeing around the things she didn’t want to divulge would take effort.
“Well, first to ensure that you’re handling recent events as well as you seem to be.” When Em started to speak, he cut her off. “I know, you say you’re fine. But I have a duty to the station to be sure of that. You’re the chief of security, and we can’t afford to have you going off on a mad rampage or something.” His lips twitched, and was that a twinkle in his eye? It was, dammit. He really seemed to think he was very amusing.
“More importantly,” he continued, cutting her off again, “he might have some ideas about prodding your memory. Associative therapy, perhaps, or even hypnosis.”
The idea of hypnosis set off a huge red alarm in her mind. No way she’d let that happen. But maybe Grayith Barlow could be of help in some other way.
“All right,” she agreed. “I’ll see him. Once, at least. We’ll see how that goes.”
“It’s a start. When I hear what he has to say, we can go from there. If it’s necessary, I’ll order you to regular sessions. This is something you need to take seriously.” He stared her down, proving he had some iron underneath his charming bedside manner and dubious humor.
“Understood.” She couldn’t hold it against him. He was just doing his job, and she respected that.
“Good! Then you’re free to go wrangle pickpockets and thwart conspiracies.” The humor was back in his eyes again.
“You’re an odd one, Doctor,” she told him on her way to the doors, trying to figure him out.
He chuckled. “That’s not the first time you’ve said that.” He gave her a small bow, which she returned before taking her leave. Before she even made it to her office, her comport chirped. When she stepped off the lift, she had an appointment with Gray Barlow for the next day. Clearly, Brannin was not one to waste time. She wasn’t surprised.
The Briveen ship had received its repairs. The official and his friends were ready to leave the station, having been on board Dragonfire barely long enough for an extended lunch and some shopping. At Arin’s notification of their imminent departure, Em met them at the docking bay.
She bowed to the official with her arms raised, palms inward, in the proper Briveen fashion. “Honorable First Son Gretch of the House Arkrid, it has been our honor to serve as your hosts during your brief stay. Can we not tempt you to remain longer?” She took a single step back, then nodded once.
“Security Chief Emé Fallon, Legate Arin Triss, it is we who are honored by your aid and hospitality. House Arkrid hopes to repay your kindness one day, should you ever be in need. We must depart, as we have a schedule to keep and business to attend, but we shall well remember Dragonfire Station’s esteem and respect.”
Em smelled fresh-cut grass and lemons as the official and the others returned her bow, made several arm gestures, and bowed again. A hint of something sweet sneaked in, and a small shift in Gretch’s facial muscles indicated amusement.
“And we’ll remember the excellent mandren meat, too,” he added.
Em chuckled. Gretch had deviated from the ritual with that statement, proving he had a sense of humor, and perhaps was not as devoted to the traditional ways as most Briveen. She continued the ritual though, taking a personal card from her belt and handing it to him. It listed her name, rank, position, and post, serving as a way to contact her in the future. He handed her his own card in kind.
“My respects to you, Honorable First Son Gretch of the House Arkrid. May the sun shine on your scales, and may your clutches be many,” she intoned respectfully. Wishing a guy lots of kids seemed like a strange goodbye to her, but the Briveen took breeding seriously. In fact, only the breeding caste was permitted to reproduce, to ensure the genetic health of the species.
“My respects to you, Security Chief Emé Fallon, Legate Arin Triss. May your leave time be plentiful and your sector of space free of deadly asteroids.”
She laughed outright that time. He’d changed the wording again. He made a snuffling laugh sound and, with a casual wave, boarded his cruiser.
The docking-bay door closed and locked, and the launch sequence began. That left only Em and Arin in the bay.
“Yup. I bet he’d be fun to know,” she agreed.
“Chances are he’ll be back here at some point.”
“I’ll put a flag on his name in the system, to make sure I hear about it. So where are you off to now?” she asked.
“Deck Two. A little minor vandalism. Either an accident or some kids, probably. We’ll see. You?”
Good question. She’d done her rounds early, and the Briveen hadn’t required as much of her time as she’d expected. “Back to my office. I’ll check in with all departments and go from there.”
“Let me know if anything comes up.” A lift of his eyebrows communicated his double meaning.
“I will.”
She took a long route back to her office, taking time to identify as many of the passing faces as she could. She tried to conjure memories of herself next to a certain shop or near that pylon to the left, as if her brain were a computer she could use to access a file that had been moved to another location. Her processor grinded away at it, but nothing turned up.
She wished she could dredge up just one shadowy memory. Something that would be proof that her entire past hadn’t been erased forever. Anything to give her some hope. The idea of forging forward with no knowledge of what lay behind her made her feel as if she’d been trapped in a service conduit, with inadequate lighting. Unable to go back or to call for help.
There was no sense in belaboring it, though. She smoothed her hands down her uniform, brushing over her belt. Turning her thoughts away from her past, she switched mental gears. If she couldn’t find her personal history through her own memories, she’d pull it up on the computer. Maybe some research would reveal whether someone had a grudge against her family. One way or another, she’d put the pieces together.
Surprisingly, her personal records said little about her family. Her mother, Maria Lin, had been a personal accountant. Her father, Reg Fallon, had been a mechanical engineer. They’d lived their lives on Earth, moving from country-state to country-state every few years for Reg’s work. They were nice-enough looking, but not remarkable. She didn’t notice any resemblance to either of them, but since her own appearance was fairly unremarkable as well, she could see being their daughter. Their faces looked like those of complete strangers, though.
She’d had an older brother named Marco. He and their parents had been hiking through a national park that was full of craggy rock formations and sheer cliffs. A surprise earthquake had hit. Not a big one, but big enough. Their bodies were found at the bottom of a ravine. Only weeks later, Em had started OTS.
Her grandparents and aunts and uncles had all gradually died off since then. She had a couple cousins in Japan, and one in England. Apparently her people didn’t care to leave Earth. Except for her.
That was the extent of her family history. Her personnel files said even less. She didn’t seem to be the sentimental sort, either. She had some photos and a few mementos here and there from places she’d visited. Mostly stuff she’d done with Wren.
She owned nothing on Earth. After her parents had died, their assets had been liquidated and deposited into her accounts, which explained why she owned so many cubics. Everything she owned was here on Dragonfire, which meant she had no additional family records anywhere.
She let her head drop back and pushed her chair away from her desk, giving herself a good shove with her feet so she could spin in slow circles. Her final options were to dig through old voicecom files for any official records or unofficial mentions, and to track down those cousins. She’d rather not look for the cousins. There must be a reason she didn’t have a relationship with them, and whatever that reason was, she didn’t want to upset the balance by blundering around trying to find them. No, as tedious as it would be, she needed to plow through the records. At least for that, she could enlist Arin’s help. She knew he’d be glad to do something.
Later. She was already ten minutes past her shift end. She needed to get home. She’d promised Wren she’d make dinner.
3
Translucid Chapter 3
“That was delicious. Thank you.” Wren stood and began clearing the dishes. When Em rose to help, she waved her off. “I’ll get it. Why don’t you change while I clean up? I thought we might watch a holo-vid tonight.”
“A holo-vid?”
“One of your favorites.” Wren didn’t look up as she began washing the dishes. “I thought it might…you know.”
Help jog her memory. Sure, why not give it a try? Anything was worth a shot. “Okay. I’ll go take a shower, then.”
“No rush,” Wren called after her.
In the shower, Em traced the tattoo on her stomach. Doing so had become something of a ritual. She wondered about the people she’d attended school with. Had they known her real abilities, or had she not yet become exceptional? Maybe she should contact some of her better friends from her class in OTS. It never hurt to catch up with an old pal. Though if the pal wanted to reminisce about old times, Em might be at risk. She’d have to think that through before contacting anyone.
She took her time showering, letting the hot water work some of the tension out of her muscles. She was glad her quarters had a hydro-shower. They’d gone out of fashion for a while, due to the space they took. Sonic and chemical showers had become more popular, particularly on spacecraft, where room had to be carefully considered. But she had a hydro in her quarters, and had found she took great pleasure in the heat and the steam.
Feeling more relaxed afterward, she slipped on a soft shirt and pair of pants and toweled her hair in front of the mirror. She took a moment to study the face that was becoming increasingly familiar. With the new hairstyle, she certainly looked more distinctive. More like she expected to look. More edgy. Less fussy. At least, the longer hair had felt fussy.
“A good shower does wonders, doesn’t it?” Wren had finished cleaning up and sat on the couch, fiddling with a holo-projector. She’d already changed into lounge clothes, and let her hair down. Em admired the shade of pale pink Wren wore, which complemented her eyes and fair skin nicely.
“Mm,” she agreed as she joined Wren on the couch. “Much better.”
“Tough day?”
“Busy,” Em answered. “A lot to keep up with, because of the Briveen arrival. Plus doing my personal research.” She’d already swept the quarters to ensure no one could be listening to their conversation, so she felt confident about speaking freely.
“Well, since I didn’t have to actually see the Briveen, and the repair was so simple, it barely affected my day at all.” Wren sent her a taunting look.
She pretended to scoff. “That’s because your job is easy and mine is hard.”
“Easy!” Wren affected an expression of outrage. “I’d like to see you crack open a nav system and repair it in thirty minutes flat.” She lifted her chin and looked down at Em condescendingly. “It’s not about being easy. It’s about being damn good at what I do.”
Em laughed and Wren joined her. It felt good to laugh together.
“I saw that the Onari will be docking here for a few days,” Wren said.
“Yes. Some scheduled maintenance to keep it within regulations, as well as several acquisitions meetings.” Em hadn’t paid particular attention. A Bennite hospi-ship was nothing to worry about.
“That ought to be fun.”
“Why? The maintenance doesn’t look like anything out of the ordinary. Just the routine stuff for a ship that sees a lot of high-speed and long-distance travel.”
“Not the ship,” Wren corrected. “The crew. They’re favorites around here. The Onari isn’t like other hospi-ships. It’s more…well, I don’t want to say renegade. I guess I’d say independent.”
“Why, what do they do?”
Wren pursed her lips thoughtfully. “They aren’t corporate. They aren’t supremely proper, and they’re not driven by profit.”
Okay, well, that did sound different.
&
nbsp; Wren explained, “The captain and CMO, Dr. Jerin Remay, has organized her ship and crew to help the underprivileged. The crew works for way less than the going rate, sometimes for free, on those worlds. And they all have unique backgrounds.”
“So I should be on the lookout for them?”
Wren laughed. “No, nothing like that. I mean they all have personal histories that made them want to do charitable work. They’re great people, nobody to worry about. Jerin only recruits the best and the most trustworthy.”
“How do they stay in operation?” The entire Bennite homeworld was organized around providing healthcare, making Bennites incredibly specialized. They were also known for being very cubic oriented. “I can’t imagine a hospi-ship being allowed to lose money.”
“That’s true,” Wren agreed. “Jerin has several sources of private funding, as do some of her crew. She also does a fair bit of pricy elective work. The ridiculous prices for that sort of thing helps fund the altruistic stuff.”
“I see. Very commendable.” Em wondered what the crew would be like.
“Yes. They tend to be very popular wherever they go. It doesn’t hurt that she has some premiere scientists on board, either. For example, the cyberneticist is at the top of her field.”
“I look forward to meeting them.”
“Glad to hear you say that. Endra will be joining us for dinner tonight. Maybe some of her friends, too.” Wren’s eyes lit with enthusiasm.
“Endra? Sarkavian, I’m guessing from the name?”
“Yup. She’s the Onari’s lead systems engineer. She and I have been friends since we were teenagers. You two have always gotten along great.”
“Then I’m sure I’ll like her.” So far Em hadn’t found a single thing that her knock on the head had changed about her likes and dislikes.
They fell into a companionable silence for several minutes. Em almost felt downright domestic, and she was surprised by how comfortable it was.