“It’s my father you’re all fighting about, jet.”
“Stay out of it!” Dorr yelled, turning to him and taking a step.
Ryan backed up, fast. Madison put a hand on the corporal’s arm and Aki said, “Erret.”
Dorr visibly calmed with the quickness of a dimming light. “Y’know,” he said reasonably, setting his gaze back on Sanchez, “if you’re so eager to keep fightin’, you know where to find me.”
“You find that line up your ass, Corporal?” Sanchez muttered, holding his side.
Dorr said, “You don’t think we busy enough with Falcone’s allies? Even you ain’t so brainless that you don’t see where we oughtta be expendin’ our energy.”
“I hate bleeding-heart symps, Dorr, and all their bitching about the injustices of the universe against those damn strits. If they want injustice to stop they oughtta stop bombing stations! Why don’t you tell that to our captain?”
“Why don’t you get over your sister’s death?” Dorr yawned. “You done made up for it in strit bodies—and your moanin’ just hit the expiration date of my tolerance.”
“Screw you, mano.”
“Both of you,” Aki said.
Sanchez said, offhand, “Go screw your symp assassin, Wong.”
Aki decked him, a fireball of a fisticuffs. Sanchez fell right off the table.
Ryan felt his mouth open.
Neither Dorr nor Madison moved a finger to help.
“Wong!” a voice snapped from behind Ryan.
He turned around and stepped out of the way just as a gray-haired man strode forward. In short order the man threatened Dorr out of medbay and sent Sanchez down the line of examination tables, though Sanchez could barely walk from that smackdown. Then the man looked at Ryan. “Get in my office,” he said, pointing to a room on the right.
Clearly it wasn’t a time to argue with anybody.
Ryan went.
He watched through the office window as Chief Medical Officer Mercurio (judging from reports Ryan saw on the man’s comp when he leaned to look) verbally lashed pretty Aki Wong-Merton for her treatment of Sanchez. She stood with her hands at her sides and no expression on her face, like a jet.
Still—ouch.
Sanchez had deserved it. Dorr had deserved one too, but nobody seemed willing or able to properly mete out punishment on a jet like him.
What had Sanchez meant by Dorr being in the captain’s bed? Surely not literally.
Allegiances, probably. Even on a ship like this, they were divided. Or divided lately, thanks to the captain’s actions.
The thought occupied Ryan as he sat on the victim’s side of the desk. He didn’t turn to look when Mercurio finally came in and shut the office door.
“Ryan Azarcon,” he said as he sat in his tall black chair. “A pleasure to meet you. How are you doing?”
A friendly doctor question, which he’d heard before and knew how to answer.
Politely. “Fine. How are you?”
“At the end of my tether with some of the crew. So I hope you won’t give me a hard time about this physical examination.”
“No, sir.” It fell out of his mouth with no effort whatsoever. He’d had it in his mind to bitch about the exam, but not now after that altercation. Mercurio was a commander and probably played cards or something with the captain every Saturday.
The man regarded him with a slight smile, leaning back in his seat with his fingers laced on his stomach. “Glad to hear it. Your father told me that you’ve taken drugs before. Silver. Anything else I should know about?”
Nobody pulled punches on this ship.
He hoped his face right now was fit for the Send. But maybe that was a giveaway too, when he lied: “No. Just Silver.”
Mercurio’s mouth twitched, a brief smile. “All right. We’ll go with that for now. I have your medical history from Austro, basically you’re a healthy young man. Why don’t you go next door to this office, there’s a private room, and get undressed? There are proper clothes laid out for you there and I’ll be with you in a minute. In the meantime, don’t flirt too much with Aki. You see how she handles suitors.”
Mercurio did everything except take his blood, since he’d gone ahead and eaten breakfast, and that meant he had to come back after fasting for twelve hours. He should’ve known better; now the doctor would get a second go at him. Aki was nowhere in sight so he ended up returning to his father’s quarters, sore and tired and just a little peeved that he had to ask for directions.
Main forward lev, command crew deck, quarters 0001 at the end of the corridor.
At least nobody seemed to care who he was and treated him like a tourist. Must’ve been because he wasn’t attached to a symp or a Marine this time.
Once in quarters he got a drink of juice from the cold rack, first, then went to the bedroom and lay down.
The silence thrummed.
He had to occupy himself if he couldn’t sail. In medbay he’d had the passing thought to steal some of their meds and an injet, but everything there was locked in cabinets and people were everywhere. It would be impossible.
He thought about playing his guitar, but it was still too quiet.
So he climbed off the bed and rummaged in his drawer for his mobile. He hooked it on, slipped down the interface eyeband, and blinked the connection. As he worked his way backward to sit on the bed, he calibrated his system to the ship’s link codes. His father had told the truth—he was cleared all up the line, though the safety gates were double what he was used to on Austro.
If he tried to transcast he had no doubt this system would flag it and alert the comm officer or maybe even his father.
So he just blinked a rap to his mother’s comm and waited the few seconds it took for the sig to bounce in quantum teleportation to the node on Austro. He hoped she wasn’t in the middle of her sleepshift. Eventually Marine Perry picked up. He didn’t seem surprised to find Ryan on the other end (had probably traced it the moment it lit the comm) and promptly fetched Mom Lau.
He knew the first thing she’d ask.
“How’re you getting along with your father?”
“All right. I guess.” Not really. But anything more would turn into a bitch session and it wasn’t like his mother was an objective listener.
And hard upon that—
“How’s Tim?”
“He’s in training as we speak. Captain insisted. He says hi but… you know, he can’t comm you. He misses you though.”
His mother was silent. He saw the slightly distorted image of her, combed and immaculate in a soft dark suit. “I understand. How’re you doing? Were the leaps okay?”
“Yeah. Listen, Mom, did you take care of Tyler?”
Someone must have passed by her; she was in her office at home, he recognized the leather chair she was sitting in. “What about Tyler?” she asked, distracted.
“That stuff he’s saying on the Send. About me—pushing that girl.”
“I guess you’re lagged out there. Apparently someone tipped the pollies to raid his residence. They found a stash of Silver bullets and harder Earth-born drugs.” Her gaze fixed on him. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He couldn’t help it; he grinned. “No.”
“What about Tim?”
“Nope.”
“Ryan, don’t lie to me.”
“I’m saving you the headache, Mom. Plausible deniability. You know. In case Tyler starts ranting about illegal search and seizure and who might’ve instigated it.”
She frowned. “I don’t want you getting involved in things like that, Ryan. I could’ve easily handled Tyler’s statements.”
“I said I didn’t do anything.”
“Listen to me.” She leaned forward. “I don’t want you taking action in cases like this. Especially no transcasts. Everyone thinks you’re still on station and I don’t want you doing anything that will tell them otherwise.”
A good burndiver could trace his transcast origin
back to Macedon, that was why.
“So I’m just supposed to sit on my hands. I guess now you and the captain finally agree on something.”
“Ryan.” She sighed. “You’re on his ship now. Don’t antagonize him. You haven’t been antagonizing him, have you?”
Now she looked worried, as if she thought the captain would hurt him.
“He’s annoying me but I haven’t beat him up yet, if that’s what you’re asking. He wants to put me in school. And have that symp train me.”
“What?” Sudden angry alarm.
Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut on that last. If she railed at the captain over comm it might just come down on him in the long run.
So he tried to smooth it. “The symp’s a kid. He’s acting as their interpreter or something so I guess he’s trustworthy. Grandpa doesn’t seem to mind him either. I haven’t really spoken to him much.”
Just argued.
“See that you don’t. I don’t want you near him, Ryan. Or the Warboy, or any of them. If your father puts you there, you just refuse and tell him I said so.”
That would go over well. “Mom, I’m not a child.”
That opened a floodgate. “Listen to me, Ryan. These aliens aren’t in it for peace. They’ve been blowing out stations and forcing relocation of Hub citizens for years— many of whom end up on Austro and we have to take care of them—just because of some gripe that happened decades ago. Those strits got their planet but they still attack the Hub. I don’t know what your father’s thinking but you stay well out of the way, hear me? Are you listening, Ryan?”
“Yeah.”
“Symps only look human, but they think like strits. I don’t want you near it.”
He’d never thought of her as a warmonger or a racist, but he could see her point. How could you trust the strits? An alliance with them seemed impossible considering history. They blamed non-symp humans for usurping scientific colonies and bases.
Musey didn’t seem to blame humans much, as he was still on this ship, but Ryan didn’t think his mother wanted to know about his conversations with the symp who’d murdered that pirate Falcone.
Someone spoke to his mother off-comm. He didn’t hear anything but a mutter, but her eyes shifted for a long second.
“I miss you,” his mother said then, shocking him into focus. “Tell Tim I hope he keeps you safe.”
She missed his bodyguard. But she wasn’t going to show it over comm.
“I will.”
“I have to go, sweetie. Be careful. Comm again soon.”
“Okay. You too. I mean, you can, you know. Comm me. Here.”
She smiled at him, then the image blanked.
He wondered if she’d ever comm him on this ship. She only used to comm the captain once a month, unless she had an issue to discuss.
He wondered if his room looked the same. She’d keep it like it was, like she had when he went to Earth. He’d told her he planned to come home. All of this would die down and he’d get to go home.
If the Hub decided to back his father all the way. If people stopped being pissed at his father. If pirates were no longer a threat.
He stared at the graphical menu layers on his mobile interface, not really seeing them, suddenly so weighted by the dread of possibly never going home that he lost here and now for a long second.
A message icon flashed at the corners of his eyes, a welcome distraction. Not a live link. He blinked to it automatically. From Earth, dated a week ago. He’d probably received it when the ship was in transit.
Shiri. She appeared in his field of vision, as clear as her voice in his ears. She sounded reserved and sat rather still.
“Hi Ryan. I’m glad you commed me and you’re all right. Maybe I shouldn’t be sending this but… well, I can’t help it. I still care and I want you to be happy and you just weren’t—happy—when you were on Earth those last few months.” Her eyes dropped for a few moments. He didn’t move, as if she could see him. “Anyway… I wanted to tell you that I did graduate. With honors.” She grinned and gave him a familiar sidelong look, a teasing “be proud of me” prompt. “And! I even got an interview with Paulita Valencia’s staff.” Her eyes brightened and she started to nearly jitter in her seat. “If I land an internship with her or Ben Salter you will hear my scream all the way to Austro. I know what you’re thinking too and you can just stop. Shiri, you’ll have to go off-planet… well, I know that. And I’m prepared. If you can live on some tin can station and not go crazy then I suppose it’s doable.”
He had to laugh.
“Well, that’s it, I guess. Comm back, okay? I mean, I won’t mind. I’d like to hear how you’re doing. So, okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
She leaned over and the message folded. He almost blinked at the reply icon before realizing that she’d be able to read its source or at least its path, and know that it came from past the Rim—unless he masked it somehow.
But he didn’t know how to do that with any efficacy—or else he could transcast too.
If he could get past the ship’s link security.
Maybe he could ask Sid.
This was presuming he ought to answer her. Or even attempt to transcast and risk the wrath of the captain of Macedon.
Don’t antagonize your father, his mother had said.
Funny coming from a woman who couldn’t speak to the captain without arguing about something.
Sid would help him if it was a girl thing… Sid was a bit of a romantic.
He wanted to answer Shiri. She wasn’t put off by his brief reply. His heart thudded with the beat of how much he wanted to be back in that time, his first year on Earth, when things were new and easy. They’d met in pubs or cafés, shopped outdoors where unpredictable rain chased them into restaurants, or sun warnings in the high summer made them hole up in her dorm with the blinds drawn for a day. Sometimes they didn’t feel like lathering on cream block just to walk across the park.
Days melded into nights with a same-day deception, hours stretched out like a slow dawn.
The memory boiled and burned.
Even Sid had liked her, had run her through a million security checks, but in the end he’d liked her. His mother had too, as soon as she found out where Ryan had met her and what Shiri was majoring in.
He’d never told his father about her. Wasn’t sure why, now, except it hadn’t seemed like the kind of thing he thought his father would be interested in. Like, well, his life.
He disconnected and pulled off the mobile. Shiri had probably gone through the interview already, maybe she’d even won the internship, but she hadn’t sent anything more to him. Waiting on his cues.
He had to disguise his comm’s point of origin, and his transcast code. Sid would do it for him, if he begged, even though Sid technically didn’t want him ever to burndive. The types of people you meet when you dive, Sid said, will make more work for me. So just don’t.
And he never had, really, unless it was just stealing music or vid files without paying for them, things that required no interaction with other living people.
But this was different.
He’d ask nicely.
He’d decide first if he wanted to talk to Shiri… what would he say?
I’m sorry.
I miss you.
I want to tell you what happened…
Do something constructive, Sid had ordered. Spinning about a girl wasn’t constructive. At any time.
His father had said, Look around.
So he left the quarters and flagged down the first person he saw on deck, an older man in a jet uniform and a purposeful stride.
“Hey, can you tell me where the library is?”
The man didn’t slow down. “Training deck.”
The same as the school. Naturally.
He walked the long, clean corridors (no damage on the command crew deck, at least), watching his dim shadow play on the walls from the bright intervals of lights overhead. Everyone seemed to be on duty or maybe ev
en in bed, ships had round-the-clock schedules like stations. There was always someone awake and someone asleep at the same time, dictated to by shifts, not the sun. That had been the oddest part of living on planet. Up with the sunrise and abed with the night, generally, but once you got used to it there were privileges. Like feeling that warmth on your skin or wearing shades for something more than fashion; or watching your skin change color just from walking outside, not lying under specialized lights.
He used to climb to his apartment rooftop in the summer and stretch out, especially that first year when the sky and its colors completely fascinated him. He’d wear block, of course, and never stay out for more than a half hour at a time, but it had done its work in short order. Your eyes, Shiri had said. I like the way they look against the tan.
He’d never told her his eye color was genetically tampered. But maybe she’d known anyway. All she’d had to do was look him up on the archived Send. There were stories about him from the time he was a toddler. People assumed they knew him when he didn’t even know himself. They wanted to categorize him in one sentence.
Austro’s Hot #1 Bachelor.
Shiri had never seemed to care about all that.
It was a long time since he’d been with anybody. Or anybody who didn’t care who he was or what he could do for them.
That thought got him nowhere, especially when he met a young woman waiting at the lev. She was blond, halfway cute, and her eyes roamed. But he doubted anybody on the captain’s ship would seriously step his way; who would, with a father like that?
“The library,” he said. “Training deck?”
“You Cap’s kid?” she said.
“Yeah.”
“You’re at the wrong lev.”
He looked over his shoulder, down the temporarily empty corridor. “I am?”
“Yeah, you need to go aft. This is the forward deck.”
“And aft is… behind me?”
She looked at him up and down. She wasn’t in jet or command blacks. Gray coveralls instead. “You sure you’re Cap’s kid? He’s got a better sense of direction. And he’s taller.”
“Are all of you people so smart-ass?”
She laughed. “Pretty much. Go aft, young man.”
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