by SM Reine
“But I didn’t.”
“But you did file a grievance against him,” Margaret said.
Natalya’s stomach turned cold. “Yes. Second year. He was—”
Margaret held up one graceful hand, a white bird fluttering in the night. “I know what he was. You had motive. You had opportunity. You’re trained in three different forms of unarmed combat.” She paused to sigh again and smile sadly. “You’re the best fighter we’ve graduated in half a century.”
“But I’m not a fighter. It’s just exercise.”
“I know. You’re also one of the best engineers we’ve graduated in decades, but that’s all moot now, my dear.” She paused and her face tightened again. “You killed an undercover TIC agent with his boss in the next room. What do you think will happen?”
The night seemed to spin around her. Her head felt like somebody had pulled her brain out of her ears and replaced it with wet clay. She couldn’t think. She could barely breathe.
“Is your ship ready to go?” Margaret repeated.
Natalya struggled for a breath. “I just need to get my grav-trunk and get aboard. I planned on leaving tomorrow.”
Margaret looked at Zoya. “What did you see tonight?”
Zoya shook her head. “Not a thing.”
Margaret’s smile looked a bit thin.
Zoya’s eyes grew wider still. “You think I’m in on this somehow?”
“What I think doesn’t matter.” She nodded at the door. “They’re going to go sub-orbital in about two more ticks. If I were you, I’d be burning for the Burleson limit right now.”
Natalya tried to speak but couldn’t get her mouth to move.
Zoya took a half step forward. “But where could we go? If we dock anywhere ...” She shrugged. “They’re not going to just let us walk away.”
“Where’s your tablet?” Margaret asked.
Zoya pulled it out of the holster, the pale light of the screen casting her face with a blue-white glow.
Margaret’s fingers flashed on her own device and Zoya’s machine bipped. “File a flight plan for anywhere. Someplace in Ciroda, maybe. I just sent you the coordinates you need to get to and your contact. It’s out of TIC jurisdiction but don’t linger. Don’t tell anybody where you’re going.”
Zoya looked at her screen. “Wait. You mean me, too?”
Margaret gave a tired chuckle. “Unless you want to spend the next ten stanyers trying to explain why your roommate killed an undercover TIC agent.”
Natalya heard a man’s voice raised inside the studio and Margaret glanced over her shoulder.
“I can give you half a stan. Maybe.”
Natalya’s face felt hot and her head didn’t seem to want to stay solidly on her shoulders. The night kept zooming around her.
The scream of a shuttle coming in for a landing at the campus spaceport cut across the night.
“That’s your ride. They’ll turn that bird around in just a few ticks and you need to be on it when it leaves.”
Zoya stashed her tablet and nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Margaret shook her head. “I’m not doing you any favors, but at least you’ll not spend the rest of your lives in prison.”
“But I didn’t do it.” Natalya’s voice sounded like a whisper to her own ears.
Ms. Newmar patted her shoulder. “You know it and I know it, but this is TIC. They’re not going to rest until somebody pays. Right now, that somebody is you.” She leaned in close to Natalya’s face. “There’s nothing you can do here except sacrifice yourself on the altar of their hubris. You and Ms. Usoko here get on that shuttle, take your ship, and disappear. Fast.”
Zoya took Natalya’s arm and gave a little tug. “Come on, Nats. She’s right. We have to be on that shuttle.”
Natalya let herself be towed and stumbled along the darkened path. “I didn’t do it.”
Zoya sighed. “I know, Nats. I know.”
* * *
They squeaked onto the shuttle just before the doors closed, still wearing their dress blacks and earning grins from the cadet crew. A sour-faced second mate shot them an angry glance and a pair of astrogation rankers glanced back from the front of the cabin as they buckled in.
“Why are we doing this?” Natalya asked, leaning into Zoya to speak over the noise of the engines and the rumbling of the tires on the tarmac.
Zoya glanced around before answering. “There’s nothing keeping us here, is there? Let’s talk about it when we get aboard.”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
Zoya patted Natalya’s forearm where it rested on the seat divider. “Later, Nats.”
The shuttle turned onto the runway and immediately kicked in the afterburners. The dull roar cut out any conversation as acceleration pressed them back into the padded seats.
Natalya sighed and gazed out at the academy campus rushing past the port. She’d arrived with such hope. Her head still felt stuffed with wet clay but her thoughts began to cut channels in it. She’d done nothing wrong. Purvis or Gavin or whatever his name was couldn’t be dead. He’d just fallen down. She had barely touched him before he collapsed. People didn’t die from that.
Did they?
Why run when she’d done nothing wrong? Shouldn’t she stay and exonerate herself?
She thought of Margaret Newmar’s face. The sadness and certainty she’d seen there. Was it possible that TIC would actually charge her with murder?
The bottom dropped out of her world as the ship tilted skyward, shoving her further back into the seat as they climbed out of the atmosphere while the ship seemed to slow the higher they climbed. In what seemed only moments, she saw the horizon curve from a flat line to the gently arching limb of the planet. The sky, already dark, turned crystalline when the stars no longer flickered through atmosphere and became hard-edged jewels. They raced around the planet, into the light from the primary, and back into darkness again, always climbing to catch the orbital.
Natalya’s thoughts seemed to freeze in her head. Or perhaps they just ran in circles. The image of her cup falling, falling, falling to shatter on the floor. The flat expression on Purvis’s face. The slow spread of blood and the splash of tea. Margaret Newmar’s harsh commands. Her insistence that she run.
The suspicion grew that Margaret Newmar knew more than she’d ever said. That the universe that Natalya had grown up believing in was not the one that actually existed. That the evening behind them might be more significant than she suspected.
Fear wrapped cold coils in her gut.
“You think they’ll let us leave?” Natalya asked, leaning her head close to Zoya’s.
Zoya glanced at her and shrugged. “Depends on whether they know where to look. How soon can we get undocked?”
Natalya shook her head. “We’ll need to file a flight plan but once it’s on file, we can get clearance to undock. The Peregrine is too small to need a tug or anything.”
“So? A few ticks?”
Natalya pondered, her thoughts still slowed and barely tracking. “Yeah. Under half a stan probably. Ciroda, she said?”
“Margaret? Yeah. Ciroda. You know anybody in Ciroda?”
“Maybe.” Natalya shook her head. “I don’t know. Not off-hand.”
Zoya patted Natalya’s forearm again. “One step at a time.”
The sour-faced second mate cast them another impatient look, his brow furrowed in a scowl.
Natalya pushed herself back into her seat as if to hold herself down. As if the seat-belt wasn’t keeping her from floating away. What was his problem? Could he smell the blood? She glanced down at her blacks, a bit wilted from a long day that had started so well with a graduation ceremony on the parade ground and ended … where?
She closed her eyes trying not to see the images playing out in her head. She took a deep breath through her nose and pressed it out slowly through her mouth. She called on her discipline to focus on the imaginary candle in the darkness of her mind. One flame dancing in the dark. She
focused on breathing.
In. Out.
The flame was her life. It burned alone in the dark.
In. Out.
Her mind grabbed the image and held it. Her training carried her into the place where only the flame mattered, where other thoughts slipped into the background. Not gone. Waiting to re-emerge. For now, her mind stilled. Her breathing smoothed out. The cold coils in her belly relaxed their hold and warmth filled her body as the heat of the flame filled her mind.
The thump of landing gear locking into the orbital’s shuttle bay vibrated in the background of her being. She released the flame, allowing it to fade away before opening her eyes. When she looked, the shuttle seemed clearer than it had when she’d entered. Her hands operated on their own, releasing the seat-belt from long practice.
Zoya looked at her. “Are you all right?”
A laugh struggled against her teeth.
Zoya grimaced. “Sorry. Bad question.”
One of the shuttle crew came back through the cabin and opened the passenger door. The second-mate bundled himself off the ship as soon as the crewman cleared the hatch. The two astrogators stared at Natalya and Zoya. Rank order meant they had to wait for the two new third mates to leave the shuttle.
Zoya waved them on. “Go ahead. We’re gonna need a tick to get our trunks off.”
The taller of the two nodded a thank you and bumped his seatmate on the shoulder. They hustled down the center aisle while the shuttle crewman released the latches that held the trunks at the back of the cabin. With a friendly nod, he stepped back to let them pass.
“Safe voyage. Sars.” He grinned.
Natalya knew him. A third year. Fourth year, now. She’d seen him on campus but couldn’t remember his name.
Zoya nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Mallory. Good luck with your classes.”
Natalya nodded and tried to smile. She didn’t trust her voice. She held the image of the flame, the peace of her meditation against the sea of outside influence. The control handle responded to her fingers and the grav-trunk lifted off the deck. She followed Zoya off the ship and into the hurly-burly of Newmar Orbital.
* * *
Zoya paused in the passage between the shuttle bay and the small craft docks. Most of the foot traffic had gone off toward the main docks or the lifts into the orbital proper. She looked at Natalya. “You hanging in?”
“I still feel like this is a nightmare. I’m going to wake up in my rack in the dorm and it’ll be graduation day.”
Zoya’s sympathetic grin felt good. “Yeah. I’m there. How soon before they lock down the orbital, d’ya think?”
Natalya looked around, taking stock. She blinked her eyes several times and stretched her neck. “Won’t be long now, but we’re almost at the ship. If we can get out of the docking bay, we’ll be free.” She sighed. “Still doesn’t feel right.”
Zoya set off down the passage again. “I know. Not to me either, but Margaret Newmar hasn’t gotten to be nine hundred stanyers old by being stupid about the CPJCT.”
“She’s not nine hundred.” Natalya felt a giggle forming in her chest. “She can’t be a day over five-fifty.”
The joke set Zoya off and the stress kept them laughing through the unmanned security lock, down the small craft dock, and up to the tiny scout craft resting on its skids at the far end.
“Mercy Maude,” Zoya said. “Could you have parked any farther away?”
Natalya just shrugged. “Cheapest slip. Not like I had a lot of spare credits, what with tuition and all.” She watched Zoya’s gaze take in the blocky shape of a ship that would never need to navigate in atmosphere. “She’s not much to look at but she’s all mine.” She crossed to the lock amidships and keyed in a code to open the outer door before leading her grav-trunk up the small ramp and into the cramped entry. Zoya stood outside the ship, her grav-trunk behind her. Her gaze kept sweeping the ship. “Come on if you’re comin’. We need to leave and you’ve got the address.”
“She’s beautiful,” Zoya said, jamming herself and the trunk into the lock. “You must have spent days polishing and painting.”
Natalya keyed the lock sequence and the outer hatch closed so the inner could open. “More like months. One of the last exploration class scouts still in service.” The hatch opened on a bright corridor and she led the way into the ship proper. She patted the wood textured bulkhead fondly as she passed. “Oswald Newmar flew a ship just like this one when he started filing claims in Venitz.”
Zoya grinned at her. “You sure it’s still spaceworthy?”
“Well, this is a hell of a time to ask.” She nodded at a stateroom door. “Stash your trunk in there.” She elbowed her way into a compartment across the passage, guiding her grav-trunk through the narrow door and locking it down. “I’ll get the systems up and file a flight plan for Halpern.”
“Why Halpern?” Zoya asked, having difficulty with the narrowness of the small ship’s doors and the width of her grav-trunk.
“It’s farther away and it’s not where Margaret Newmar said to file.”
Zoya locked the trunk down and followed Natalya to the cockpit that served as bridge. “Well, she gave us a destination. You thinking of ditching that, too?”
Natalya shook her head. “She never said that out loud. Nobody inside could have over heard.” She plonked into the left-hand couch and started slapping keys.
Zoya stared at her. “You’re not paranoid or anything, are you?”
Natalya threw her a smile. “Claustrophobic. Not paranoid.”
Zoya looked at the tiny spaces around her. “Claustrophobic? And you fly a scout?”
The ship vibrated and the blowers started a low whispering as the on board systems came online.
“Once we’re out there, there’s plenty of room. I’ve never felt claustrophobic in space.” Natalya patted the seat next to her. “Sit. Strap. Navigation console. You remember how to lay a course?”
Zoya made rude sound and dropped into the couch. “Who taught you how to use the mark twelve consoles, huh?”
Natalya grinned. “And who taught you orbital mechanics?”
“Fair.” Zoya keyed the console open and started typing commands. “These aren’t mark twelves.”
Natalya laughed. “No. Fourteens. One of the Plunkett fast packets upgraded. I picked these up for scrap value last spring. Took me all damn summer to get them installed and calibrated.”
“Sweet.” Zoya paused to gaze around the small, tidy cockpit. “It’s so small, but it’s so—I don’t know—comfy.”
“The old timers spent years living in these ships. Some flew solo. Most had a partner. Somebody to fly the ship back if they got into trouble. There wasn’t room for much more.” Natalya felt a tiny glow of pride at the clean, burnished surfaces and the polished metalwork in the cozy bridge.
“It looks more like an aircraft cockpit than a bridge.”
“Does, kinda. Straps,” Natalya said, pulling her own seat-belts into place and snapping them down.
Zoya looked up, her eyes wide in surprise. “Already?” She fumbled with her belts for a moment, untwisting them so they’d line up properly.
“Any tick now we’ll get clearance and I want us moving before they change their minds.”
Zoya pulled out her tablet and slaved it to the console, transferring the coordinates for their jump.
Natalya watched the comms screen for the permission to undock. “Come on, come on. How long does it take to let us out?”
Zoya chuckled. “We’re not exactly high on their priority list. You remember working there in our third year, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I remember.” She sighed. “But normally I get buzzed right through.”
“I’m guessing that normally you don’t have a potential TIC problem making normal delays seem really long.”
Natalya snickered but nodded.
A yellow warning message popped up.
“Uh oh.”
“What?” Zoya asked.
�
��We’re on hold.”
“Yellow-hold. Probably just traffic outside,” Zoya said.
Natalya took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Yeah. Probably.”
“As long as it’s not red-denied.”
Natalya nodded, her eyes not leaving the comms and her hand on the maneuvering controls.
A very long four ticks elapsed before the green-for-go message popped up on the console.
“Yes,” Natalya said, stretching the hiss out as she pulled shore-ties and triggered the lockdowns to release.
The ship lifted just off the deck and began floating toward the exit lock. As they approached, the lock’s tattletales flipped from yellow to green and Natalya slipped in. Behind them the inner door closed and the orbital’s heavy compressors started sucking the atmosphere out of the lock.
Time slowed for Natalya. The wait in the airlock never bothered her before yet she found herself tapping her fingers on the arm of her couch.
Zoya glanced at the pattering digits and smiled.
Natalya forced herself to grip the arm. “I just keep thinking this would be a good place to keep us locked down until they can figure out how to get to us.”
Zoya nodded. “Probably, but they’d just pump the atmosphere back in and tell us to back out slowly.” She pointed at the pressure indicator on the bulkhead outside. “It’s almost vacuum now.”
A few more heartbeats and the green-for-go light blinked on over the exit door. Natalya goosed the thrusters to push them out of the orbital.
Comms popped a blue informational message with the exit vector to leave orbital traffic control. Natalya cross-loaded the instruction to helm and followed the guiding signal out of the swirl of ships, cargo handlers, shuttles, and small craft that surrounded Newmar Orbital. The kickers rumbled the spaceframe as they came online and the ship picked up speed. Natalya felt it thrum in her chest.