by Zen DiPietro
“So what’s this holo-vid?” she asked.
“It’s Widow’s Sword. A woman’s husband is killed in the line of duty, and she tracks down the killer, both for vengeance and to complete her husband’s last case. She also teams up with a handsome mercenary with a heart of gold, and finds new love.” Wren sighed dramatically. “Something for everyone.”
It did sound good to Em, especially the murder and vengeance stuff. “Right after her husband dies? Sounds kind of cold.”
“Nahh. It takes years. The killer’s a powerful guy and she has to work a long time to get to him.”
“Well, that sounds okay then. But now you’ve told me all about it. Are you sure we need to watch it?”
Wren leaned over and nudged her with an elbow. “We’ve watched it dozens of times. It’s still good.” She straightened, but didn’t scoot away again. Em didn’t mind. She’d begun to feel quite comfortable with Wren, who never pushed or asked anything of her.
“If you say so. Do we have movie snacks?”
Wren’s eyes lit. “Yes! Actually.” She jumped up, ran to the kitchenette, and ran back, all in just a few seconds. She dropped a paper sack tied with a green ribbon into Em’s lap and kept another one for herself.
Em opened the sack to find an assortment of sugar dates, figs, and nuts. Sweet and salty, mixed together. Perfect. “Thanks.”
“You bet,” Wren answered around a mouthful of snack mix. She leaned forward and pressed a button, having already queued up the holo-projector.
A three-dimensional image snapped to life above the long, flat surface of the projector, with a black background behind it. A two-foot-tall woman began walking across the table, and Em snuggled back into the couch cushions, eager to enjoy the show. She felt Wren doing the same, and her right shoulder pressed against Wren’s left. It felt…not quite domestic. More like cozy.
They spent the next two hours watching murder, mayhem, awesome fight scenes, and some touching romance. She hadn’t been sure about that part of the story when Wren described it, but it turned out to be tastefully done. Not even a shred of histrionic angst, which suited Em perfectly. During the final scene, where the heroine and her new love end up together, Wren, probably unconsciously, had reached for Em’s hand. It didn’t feel as weird as she’d have expected, and the longer their hands remained clasped, the more natural it felt.
When the vid ended and the projection turned off, Wren sat up, gently tugging her hand away. She looked embarrassed and unsure. Em didn’t want her to feel that way, but didn’t know what to say.
“What did you think?” Wren asked in a chipper voice.
“I loved it. No wonder it’s one of my favorites.”
Wren smiled, looking satisfied. She didn’t ask if it had prompted Em to recall anything. They both knew Em would have said so immediately. But Wren didn’t look regretful. She seemed relaxed and happy. She looked very pretty, actually.
Em stood. “I suppose I should get to bed. I need to get a lot done before my appointment with Gray in the morning.”
Wren nodded. “Plus you had a busy day.” She stood and began arranging the couch for her to sleep on. Em felt a pang of guilt. Wren was still sleeping on the couch in her own home.
“Why don’t—” The words stuck in her throat and she coughed. “Why don’t you forget the couch?”
Wren froze, her eyes wide. Then understanding dawned and she looked hurt for a split second before nodding, not meeting Em’s eyes. “If you’re sure you’re comfortable with me sleeping in there with you.”
Oh. Damn. She thought I meant more than sleeping. Em felt bad about the misunderstanding, however fleeting. Wren’s hurt look still stung, though it had only been there for a moment. Em felt a surge of protectiveness.
She stepped forward and put her arms around Wren, who hesitated, then hugged Em back fiercely. Wren pulled her upper body back enough to peer into Em’s face. Em saw loss, fear, and desperate hope all twined around one another. And so much love.
Well, what the hell? She’s my wife. Impetuously, Em put her hand on Wren’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss. It didn’t feel like any kiss she could recall, but it felt right.
Holding hands, they went to the bedroom together. No one would be sleeping on the couch anymore.
Em took her morning run, then did her morning report in ops control. Captain Nevitt’s continuing disdain shouldn’t bother her. It really shouldn’t. But it irked her, just a bit. She’d worked for the woman for a year, given the station a reputation of excellent security, and even kept working after losing a significant part of her memory. What more did the captain want? There might be more to Nevitt’s dislike of her, but Em hadn’t been able to turn anything up.
Then she dutifully reported for her appointment with Grayith Barlow. Better to get it over with than to live in dread all day. She was glad for the early appointment time.
He answered the door to his office immediately and showed her to a cozy parlor. He gestured for her to take any seat she wanted. Her first instinct was to sit in the padded, straight-backed chair, but he might read more into that than she wanted. The couch seemed to indicate a greater level of comfort. She was taking too long to decide. She went with her original choice, stealing a look at his face to see if he was judging her for it. If he did, his expression didn’t give it away.
Gray was human, but from the Zerellis colony. The Zerellians had left Earth hundreds of years ago and had experienced just enough genetic drift to count as a different grouping of humans. Their society also diverged from that of Earth-derived humans, of course, giving them a very different cultural identity. Gray had light-brown hair, tan skin, and brown eyes, as was typical for Zerellians. Em remembered from his record that he was thirty-seven, unmarried, and a bit of an adventurer. Overall, he had average looks, but his eyes were quite nice. They were probably an asset in his profession.
“So, Em, how have you been doing?” he asked.
She hated open-ended questions. They were non-questions, really. Just an invitation to talk. “All things considered, very well, I’d say.”
“No lingering pain? Headaches? Nausea? Vertigo?”
Each time she shook her head. “None of that.”
“Good. That leaves us with what’s going on up here.” He tapped the side of his head.
Another open-ended invitation to talk. Blah. “Also fine, I think. I’ve had to relearn myself and all, but it helps that I have people to help me.”
“No post-traumatic stress from the crash?”
“I don’t remember the crash. So no.”
“Hm.” He tapped a note on the infoboard on his lap. “Have you had any flickers of memory of your life before the accident?”
“No. Do you think I’ll recover any of it, at this point?”
He sighed. “I’ll be honest. The longer you go without recovering any memories, the less likely it becomes that you ever will.”
“Isn’t it strange that my memory loss is so specific?”
“No. Different types of memory are stored in different places. Your memories pertaining to yourself were in a particular spot, and that’s the area that was damaged. It’s a good possibility that those memories were effectively deleted from your brain.”
A more pessimistic viewpoint than Brannin usually presented. Also, not what she wanted to hear. “Dr. Brash suggested you might have some therapies, like hypnosis, that could help.” Not that she was convinced about trying hypnosis. She had too many secrets to keep, at this point, to allow for that.
“I don’t think that would help. Hypnosis is more for repressed memories. We prod associations to try to unearth them. With you, we have none of those associations to prod.” He steepled his fingers and pressed them to his lips, looking thoughtful. “I’ve been researching a new memory-retrieval therapy, but I’m not sure it’s right for your situation. I’ve asked a few colleagues to see if they’ve heard of anything. There are always new things coming out. Maybe we’ll find something.”
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br /> “Sure.” She was not optimistic about his “maybe.”
“How are you handling your situation? Emotionally? It would be normal to feel angry, confused, scared, or any other number of things.”
“I’m just trying to find my way. Do the best I can with what I still have. I think I’m doing pretty well with it. I mean, I get a little frustrated now and then, but I’m glad I’m able to keep working and doing my normal things. The damage could have been a lot worse.”
“Yes, it could have. Still, losing your identity has to be traumatic.”
“Not as much as you’d think. I don’t know what I’ve lost, so I can’t mourn it.” She shrugged.
He looked sad rather than reassured. “That does make sense. How is Wren handling it?”
Em hadn’t expected him to ask that, though she should have. “She’s great, actually. I’ve caught her looking sad or worried now and then, but I think she’s convinced we still have a future together.”
“But are you convinced?”
Em felt a spark of offense. She didn’t like him questioning her relationship with Wren, even if it was his job. “Yes,” she said, trying to keep annoyance out of her voice. “We’re married. We plan to stay that way.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Having her support will be a great help to you.”
“Yes. It is.” She felt irritated. She shouldn’t. But she had a sudden urge for a sparring match. She fought to keep her expression neutral and her posture relaxed.
“I see. I’d like to talk to you and Wren together in a couple weeks. I’m not making it a medical order. Voluntary only. But I think it would benefit you both.”
“I’ll ask her.”
He nodded. “I’ll keep in touch with Dr. Brash and request another meeting with you if it seems warranted. Also, I want you to let me know if you have any issues. Irritability, inability to sleep, anything at all, okay? I’m here to help.”
“I will. Thanks.” She stood, grateful to have kept the appointment so short.
He walked her to the door, though it was only a few paces away. “I sense your reluctance, Chief, but you can trust me.”
Did he mean that at face value, or was there more to it? She had to admit that she did feel more and more suspicious of everything around her, but she was hardly going to report that to him.
“Thank you, Dr. Barlow.”
“Gray. You’ve always called me Gray.”
She nodded and, after a quick bow, wasted no time in moving on with her day.
It took Em some time to shake off the irritation. Maybe it was her increasing closeness with Wren, or maybe she’d always been protective of her marriage. Either way, Gray’s prodding had riled her.
The arrival of the Onari after lunch made her forget everything else. She descended to Deck One to greet the hospi-ship herself, only to find the concourse crowded. She had to push through to get into Docking Bay Five. Arin arrived a couple minutes after she did. Three more of her staff walked in just behind him.
“Hey.” He grinned at Em. “Big turnout, huh?”
“Is it always like this?” She nodded toward the throng out on the concourse.
“More or less. Everyone loves Jerin and her crew.”
“So I’ve heard. I’m starting to wonder if I should assign some light security near the quarters they’ll be using. ” She frowned, studying the crowd.
“I’m sure no one would cause any harm, but for privacy, it’s not a bad idea. Usually, we handle that internally on a volunteer basis, but if you want to put it on the schedule, no one will mind.”
“I’ll do that,” she decided. “I don’t want the Onari crew to feel mobbed or exposed.”
“Or be petitioned for free medical procedures everywhere they go,” Arin added.
Scrap. That was a good point. “Right. Let’s increase security throughout Deck One as well, for all public areas. Just to ensure everyone’s ease of movement.”
Arin nodded. “You got it, Chief.” He grabbed his comport and tapped some quick orders into it, alerting the Deck One security office.
She felt an almost imperceptible shiver from the deck plates as the clamps grabbed onto the Onari and began the docking procedure. The ship looked as good in person as it did on the specs she’d studied earlier in the day. Bennites kept their hospi-ships in excellent condition, and updated with the newest technologies. The Onari was big for its crew size, but that was due to all the labs and patient quarters. Healthcare took up a lot of room.
Finally, the airlock opened and the crew began entering the station, all wearing standard Bennite hospi-ship uniforms with long sleeves and pants. Arin took the lead, greeting each person, though Em had memorized the names and faces beforehand. Trin, a Kanaran physical therapist. Brak, the Briveen cyberneticist she’d heard so much about. Em felt odd not greeting her in the Briveen way, but her record had emphatically noted that Brak did not wish to engage non-Briveen in the formal rituals. It was a relief, but still felt weird.
Next came Ben, a human nurse; Endra, the Sarkavian friend of Wren’s; and finally Jerin Remay herself, the Bennite doctor, who served as the Onari’s captain and chief medical officer. Em was glad for the airlock scanners. Surely the crew of a hospi-ship encountered more than its share of disease. The bioscanners on the ship side of the airlock scanned each person leaving the vessel. If the scanners indicated any potentially contagious contaminant, containment shields would automatically appear and the person in question would not be permitted to board the station without proper precautions.
Em offered greetings and bows as appropriate to all of the Onari crew as they began to fill the bay, but her deepest bow went to the doctor, who honored Em with an even deeper bow.
“Thank you, Chief Fallon, for allowing us on board Dragonfire. Between you and me, it’s our favorite PAC station.” Dr. Remay’s golden-tan skin and shiny black hair contrasted with her green eyes in a strikingly attractive way. There was a certain kindness in her eyes that reminded Em of Brannin, and she wondered if it was a Bennite thing, or perhaps just a doctor thing. Brannin definitely didn’t wear a ruby nose stud, though. On Remay’s dainty nose, it looked both elegant and feminine. Remay was thirty-five, though she had an ageless quality about her. Em imagined that the doctor would look much the same in fifteen or twenty years.
“We’re pleased to have you here, Jerin.” Fortunately, Wren had advised Em to use the first names of the Onari crew. “I’d have thought you all would prefer Blackthorn Station for its amazing starport.”
“We do enjoy Blackthorn. But we always feel so welcome and well looked after here.” She leaned forward as if to tell a secret. “And the mechanics and the shopping are always fantastic!”
They shared a laugh and Em sent the junior security officers to clear a path through the concourse. Those officers would return to greet the lower-ranking crew members, who continued to come through the airlock.
“Well, if anyone gets too friendly, be sure to let us know. We’re increasing security to ensure your comfort.”
“We appreciate that. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
Arin’s attention was riveted on the woman behind Jerin, a new crew member whom he hadn’t greeted. He must not have looked up the crew before the ship’s arrival, assuming he already knew everyone.
“And you’re Kellis Mayvits? The new mechanical engineer?” Em asked.
The twenty-six-year-old stepped forward. “Yes. Pleased to meet you.” She gave a deep bow, which Em and her staff returned.
By Atalan standards, the woman was average looking. Which meant by human standards, she was exceedingly lovely. Her golden skin reminded Em of sun-baked sand, and her turquoise eyes were startlingly vivid. A soft cap of tawny curls encircled her head and framed her face.
“Have you been on Dragonfire Station before?” Em asked.
“No. I haven’t been too much of anywhere. I only recently escaped Atalus.”
Ah. A refugee from the planet’s civil war, then. She and Arin would
have much in common. Indeed, her legate seemed almost spellbound. She gave him a subtle nudge with her elbow and he blinked, shaking it off.
“Let us know if there’s anything we can help you with. In fact, Arin, why don’t you show Kellis around after she’s settled into her quarters?”
Arin nodded. “I’d be happy to.”
Jerin caught Em’s eye and the two shared a knowing look.
Em had a good feeling about this visit.
Em learned a great deal during dinner. She and Wren joined Endra and Kellis at the soup shop, where they enjoyed a leisurely meal and lots of conversation. Em found it interesting to watch Wren with her old friend, who seemed deeply fond of her. Kellis conversed freely, showing intelligence and good humor. In fact, as a mechanical engineer, she turned out to have a great deal in common with Wren.
Em and Endra sat politely sipping their soup while Wren and Kellis prattled on about the latest plasma converter technology. Though Endra was an engineer too, she was the kind who worked with schematics and systems tests, not the kind who got her hands greasy.
Em tried to think of something to talk to Endra about while the other two conversed in rapturous technobabble. “So what was Wren like as a teenager?”
Endra grinned. She was tall and had the white-blonde hair of a Sarkavian. Her face was rounder than Wren’s and in a classical sense, she’d be considered the pretty one of the pair. But Em thought Wren’s deviation from the classical was exactly what made her attractive. Wren’s face had character, and her smile always spoke of fun and generosity.
“Not much different than she is now.” Endra stole a sly glance at her friend, ensuring that Wren was entirely preoccupied with microtuners and diagnostics. “She got good grades, stayed out of major trouble. Though she did have a naughty habit of reconfiguring people’s tech when they weren’t looking.”
“Like how?”
“Oh, like a classmate being befuddled that his holo-vid projector would do nothing but emit whale sounds. That kind of thing.” She snorted with laughter. “She always put things back the way they were supposed to be, though. She never caused any real harm. She just liked being a prankster.”