Echo Rift

by G. S. Jennsen

  She barely had time to take in the setting when a commotion at one of the tables near the stage broke out. Shouting and shoving quickly commenced and, curiosity piqued, she headed toward the fray. She’d almost reached the epicenter of the conflict when two bouncers, a Dankath and a Barisan, grabbed an angry Anaden man by both arms and began dragging him away.

  Their absence revealed Morgan Lekkas standing at the other side of the table, wiping a trickle of blood off the corner of her mouth as she scowled at the unruly patron. “When I said ‘no cheating allowed,’ I meant no cheating allowed. Never show your gre…greasy face in here again.” She tossed a hand dismissively in the man’s direction, and the bouncers resumed hauling him off toward the exit.

  “Fucker made me spill my drink.”

  “I’ll get you a fresh one, ma’am,” a Novoloume man in emerald robes offered, then backed away and headed toward the bar.

  Morgan’s gaze drifted around the space, passed over Marlee—and returned to her. “Marlee, you came! Here, join me.” She raised her voice above the din. “Solstan, bring my friend here a drink, too. What’ll you have?”

  “Uh…a Diamond Dust, please.”

  The Novoloume man had halted halfway to the bar; now he nodded confirmation and continued on his journey.

  Marlee eased into one of the chairs at the table and studied Morgan in concern. “Did that guy hurt you?”

  “Bah. As if.” Morgan blinked a few times and scowled at a wet spot on the table. Her spilt drink? Her head wobbled, which was when Marlee pieced together the blindingly obvious evidence and realized the woman was drunk. As in, seriously drunk.

  Well, shit. She couldn’t very well seduce a badly inebriated woman, could she? No, of course not. Her mother had taught her a few manners.

  The Novoloume—Solstan, she surmised—arrived carrying their drinks. Marlee took a small sip of hers, while Morgan downed a third of her glass in one gulp. Then she held onto it rather than set it on the table and regarded Marlee with bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils.

  Marlee cleared her throat a tad awkwardly. “So, how have you been since we got back from Namino?”

  “Fabulous. Glad to be home, runnin’ my place, winnin’ chance games, doin’ my thing. You?”

  “Good. I’ve been training with Caleb, which is awesome. I’ve got a new boss, which is a little weird. I miss Mia, but she—”

  “Ran off. I heard. Stupid bitch. Everything she ever wanted is offered to her like she’s the princess of the high castle, and she thumbs her nose at it and skedaddles away.”

  Marlee frowned. “Yeah. I guess she’s technically a fugitive now. It must be scary for her.”

  “Not the first time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For Mia. Not the first time being a fugitive. In fact, it’s got to be like the…” Morgan studied her glass as if searching it for answers before turning it up for a long sip “…third time? Or is it the fourth?”

  “Mia? No, that can’t be right.”

  “Why, because she’s all elegant and cultured and perfect?”

  “Well…kind of, yes.”

  “Goes to show you—you never truly know a person. Remember that. It’ll save you a lot of grief in the future.” Morgan finished off her drink and motioned toward the bar.

  Marlee caught Solstan’s attention as he was returning to their table and gave him a minute shake of her head. He merely shrugged helplessly in response. “Another drink, ma’am?”

  “Yep. And one for my friend here, too.”

  Who had designs on plying who here? “I’m still working on this one. Give me a few minutes.”

  She watched Solstan stride smoothly toward the bar, working out the logistics of the situation in her head. “Where’s the lavatory? I need to step in there for a minute.”

  Morgan’s brow furrowed, as if she’d forgotten. Finally she gestured toward the far left corner. “Thataway.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back.” She stood and started heading in the direction Morgan had pointed. But once she’d passed a couple of dancers who blocked the view, she veered left and went to the bar. She leaned over it near where Solstan was mixing drinks. “Got to do what the boss orders, huh?”

  He peered over his shoulder at her, seemingly sizing her up in one quick glance. “Yes, ma’am. That is my job.”

  “Even when she’s like this?”

  “Especially when she’s like this.” He paused. “Are you a friend of hers?”

  “I hope so. Does she…does this happen often?”

  He sighed and stepped closer. “Oh, she always enjoys her drinks, make no mistake. And in the early days, yes, this happened with some frequency. She was hurting and…but it’s not my place to speculate. She had been doing a lot better lately, though. Until tonight, it had been almost a year since the last time she went on a hard bender. I don’t know what set her off. Perhaps her trip with Alex Solovy a few weeks ago?”

  “I was there with her. I don’t think anything happened that would trigger this.” They’d gotten shot at by a bunch of Rasu and blew up a giant invasion compound and a quantum block and had various other zany adventures, but it had all been more fun than upsetting.

  She took the glass from him. “I’ll bring it to her. Thank you.”

  On the way back to the table, she took a tiny sip from the glass—and spit it out. God, it tasted like pure grain alcohol.

  Morgan’s head was resting on her arm when Marlee arrived, and for a second she worried the woman had passed out. But when her chair scraped across the floor, Morgan’s head lifted, her hand instantly reaching for the glass Marlee had set in front of her. Another long sip followed, then Morgan steadied the glass on the table using both hands. “Fucking Malcolm fucking Jenner. What made him special enough to not die the way a good soldier’s supposed to do?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “How can Mia be so stupid? I always believed she was smarter than this. The universe hands the woman her greatest wish on an adiamene-coated platter, and she walks away from it? Doesn’t have any idea of the magnitude of the gift she’s being given, doesn’t appreciate what the rest of us wouldn’t do to be in her shoes—” Morgan abruptly turned the glass up again.

  Oh. God, how dense was she for it to take her this long to figure it out? Marlee gazed at Morgan with new, wiser eyes and…not pity. Empathy. What could she possibly say to make Morgan feel better? She didn’t exactly have much experience with this sort of thing, so she just started rambling.

  “I am certain Mia is so incredibly grateful that Malcolm’s alive. I think it’s…I mean, I wasn’t there when everything happened, but it sounds as if the way things went down was super-complicated, and everybody got played by the Savrakaths, and now the situation’s all mixed up. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

  “For them? Yep. Always does. Lucky S.O.B.s….” The nearly empty glass slipped from Morgan’s grasp and rolled across the table. The next second, the woman’s head landed on her arm. For real this time?

  Marlee half-stood to peer around the bar until she spotted Solstan talking to one of the dancers, then waved to catch his attention. He nodded as he arrived at the table. “It’s for the best that this bender has come to an early end.”

  “Do you know where her apartment is? Can you help me get her there?”

  “I do. It’s above and behind the bar here.” He slid an arm beneath one of Morgan’s, and Marlee hurried around to the other side to do the same. Morgan muttered a nonsensical protest when they lifted her up, and Solstan patted her on the back. “We’re going to take a short trip, ma’am. Just walk with us.”

  Step by step, they managed to maneuver a barely conscious Morgan through the rowdy patrons to a hidden lift behind the bar. Upstairs, a short hallway led to a door. Solstan input a code, and the door slid open to reveal a nice but spartan living area.

  “The bedroom’s off to the left.” He led them through a door-less archway to a smaller room containing an unmade bed, nights
tand and dresser, but little else.

  They eased her down onto the bed to the accompaniment of vague half-protests. Once Morgan’s head hit the pillow, however, she didn’t move.

  Marlee offered Solstan a genuine smile. “Thank you for your help. I’ll finish tucking her in.”

  “It wasn’t a problem. I’m glad you were here for her tonight.”

  “Me, too.” She’d need to think long and hard later about whether it was true.

  “I’ll see myself out.”

  She waited until the door to the apartment had closed behind him, then moved to the end of the bed, wiggled Morgan’s boots off and set them on the floor. Next she went into the kitchen and fixed a glass of water, taking a moment to check out the rest of the apartment. It was clean and had all the appropriate furnishings, but there wasn’t a hint of personalization. No visuals, no mementos, no quirky art.

  She carried the glass of water back to the bedroom, where she set it on the nightstand. There wasn’t much else to do, so she sank onto the edge of the bed and dropped her chin to her chest.

  This wasn’t how she’d envisioned the night going. And what had she been thinking, anyway? A rare bout of self-doubt crept into her thoughts. She’d never measure up to the memory of the great Brooklyn Harper, and the stinging truth refused to be denied: she was just a silly child for ever believing she’d be able to do so.

  She immediately chastised herself. Morgan was hurting, and she shouldn’t be selfish. She should want to help a…friend.

  But she had no easy fixes for a broken heart, and she couldn’t bring the dead back from the grave. Her ‘sprint gleefully ahead first, ask pertinent questions later’ approach to life had never led her to the key to either.

  She sighed ruefully as Morgan’s breathing leveled out into a not-so-troubled slumber. It wasn’t fair; tragedy should never have intruded to break the woman’s spirit. Morgan was beautiful and fierce and talented and, until tonight, larger than life. The woman had deliberately cut herself off from the world, but the world would be so much brighter with her in it. If only there was some way she could show Morgan how much she was worth.

  But Marlee didn’t know how she might accomplish such a feat. She was just a silly child, after all. But maybe she could change that.

  She pulled the rumpled covers up to Morgan’s chest, leaned down and kissed the woman softly. Even with the souring taste of alcohol on her lips, it was perfect.

  Then she wrote up a brief note for Morgan, detached an aural and situated it above the nightstand, and left the apartment.

  Morgan tried to open her eyes, but they were glued shut. She squinted and rubbed at her face to work the sleep loose from her eyelashes, then tried again. The mercifully dim light of her apartment greeted her, blurred, wavered and slowly solidified.

  “Ow.” She ordered her eVi to begin running its entire suite of alcohol cleansing routines and rolled over to bury her face in her pillow. What had she done last night? Drank too much, obviously….

  Because Jenner was alive and Brook was dead and life wasn’t fair. And all the alcohol in Concord space hadn’t made it any fairer.

  A shimmer to her left caught her notice, and she carefully shifted her head. On the nightstand sat a glass of water and an aural containing a note. She fumbled for the water, then slid the aural over above her chest so she could read it while she tried to drink the water and mostly spilled it down her chin.

  Morgan,

  I’m sorry I came by at a bad time, but it was still good to see you. We can hang out again sometime, once you’re feeling better.

  Best,

  —Marlee

  Shame flushed her skin hot. She hadn’t wanted the young woman to see her in such a sorry state. When Marlee looked at her, Morgan saw an idealized reflection of the person she had once been, and she’d forgotten how nice it was for someone to see her that way. But the next time they met, Marlee wouldn’t look at her with admiration any longer. The bloom was surely off the rose now.

  She groaned and struggled up to a sitting position, thankful the room had slowed its spinning. So what now? Her extreme acting out had drained her of emotions, had even drained away much of the pain, leaving her…empty. A hollow shell waiting to be filled. But by the same old anger and vitriol, or by something new?

  All right. The water was helping, but she needed to ingest something stronger, which meant getting out of bed. She eased her feet to the floor and stood. A little wobbly, but not too bad. She shuffled to the kitchen and brewed up a pitcher of Peronan espresso, then collapsed into a chair at the small kitchen table and dropped her forehead onto her palm.

  The details of the night before gradually drifted back into her mind—the ones before the bender commenced in earnest, at least. After AEGIS had finally released a full report on the sequence of events on Savrak, the news feed had gone wall-to-wall coverage of Jenner’s miraculous survival for half an hour. To her credit, she’d made it through twenty minutes of the breathless reporting before opening her first bottle.

  She’d give anything to be in the enviable position Mia found herself in right now. Were she, she’d do it all better. Most of all, she wouldn’t toss away the precious gift the universe had bestowed on her, the way Mia seemed intent on doing.

  After a few tenuous sips of the steaming, bitter coffee, she toggled off the neural block and tip-toed into the tsunami of information that formed the Noesis for long enough to confirm Mia wasn’t broadcasting her location there. Nope, not a trace.

  Next step in the hazy plan forming in her mind: she sent a pulse to Alex.

  Do you know where Mia is?

  She’d finished the cup of espresso by the time a response arrived.

  I do.

  Have you told Malcolm yet?

  No. Caleb promised Mia he wouldn’t disclose her location, and I promised him the same.

  You don’t think Malcolm should know?

  Of course I do. Malcolm showed up on Akeso, begging Caleb to help him find her. It’s a yobanyi mess from top to bottom, and I feel awful for both of them. But it’s not my responsibility, or my right, to try to fix it.

  A cute sentiment, and one Morgan normally would have enthusiastically ascribed to. But now, she was overcome by this absurdly virtuous desire to help.

  Will you tell me where she is?

  I can’t.

  Morgan groaned and refilled her cup. She was zero-for-two so far, and she wasn’t certain she had the energy to try a third time. Then Alex surprised her by sending a follow-up pulse.

  Valkyrie thinks Meno will tell Stanley if he phrases the question in the correct manner. She says Meno is worried about Mia and frustrated at his inability to improve her state of mind.

  I bet he is. They all think they’re noble stewards of our well-being. Okay, I’ll see what I can do. What are you up to?

  Chasing down a lead that might help us against the Rasu.

  She felt a flare of…jealousy? Or was it longing that panged around in her chest? She’d been doing nothing good for anyone for so long. Until Namino. Damn Alex for reminding her what an adrenaline rush it was to save the good guys and kick the bad guys’ asses.

  Good luck.

  You, too.

  She downed most of the second cup of coffee in one long, bracing sip, set the cup down and slapped her cheeks roughly. The cleansing routine was making progress, as was the industrial-grade caffeine.

  Stanley, while I take a shower, try to ply Mia’s location out of Meno. I’m not clear what Valkyrie meant by ‘phrasing the question in the correct manner,’ though. I guess be nice and sympathetic or something.

  I will manage.

  I’ve no doubt you will.

  He had the answer before she’d so much as activated the shower water. Meno must be genuinely worried.

  Morgan prepped a short message and sent it off before she thought better of it.

  Admiral Jenner,

  She’s on Pandora, running a tech retail shop in The Approach called The Whole Sh
ebang. Don’t fuck it up.

  Duty done, she stood under the hot water for a solid thirty minutes as uncomfortable ruminations warred with one another in her head. Why did today feel like a point of no return? If she continued down the path she was on, she feared she’d be lost forever. But stepping out into the light and taking a chance on something better might ruin her even faster.

  She finally turned the shower off and returned to the bedroom to dig up fresh clothes. Once there, though, she gravitated toward the bed and the nightstand beside it. She opened the drawer, where a visual of Brook gazed up at her, same as it always did. Smiling, which had not been an easy sight to capture and memorialize.

  “Oh, Brook, I still miss you every goddamn day. I wish so damn much that you’d made a different choice, because I’d have taken an eighty percent real, twenty percent synthetic, patched together version of you without hesitation. But you didn’t, and there’s no going back.

  “My foray on Namino made me realize that I’ve got to…do something. I think I’ve got to stop hiding, because in six years it hasn’t solved a damn thing. I think you’d want me to get out there and do some good. If I’m wrong, I hope you’d forgive me. Either way, I’ve got to try, else I’m already dead.”

  She closed the drawer with a reverentially gentle nudge and glared up at the ceiling. “Now, it would be simply smashing if I could figure out what it is I’m supposed to do.”

  PART III

  WHAT WAS LOST…

  31

  * * *

  SIYANE

  Ourankeli Stellar System

  Beyond the Boundaries of Concord Space

  The starlight from the system’s sun reflected brilliantly off the shattered halo ring encircling it, much like the lens flare in an overexposed old-timey photograph.

  At the sight of it, Alex brought a hand to her mouth with a sharp inhale. Even crumbling apart, the ring structure was one of the most stunning creations she had ever laid eyes upon. A monument erected to proclaim what wonders intelligent life was capable of forging. The Ourankeli had dared to lasso their sun and make it their own.