To See the Sun

by Kelly Jensen

  With an affirmative “Hmm,” Bram led them inside a building designated Maia’s Place by a discreet holo behind the darkened glass, and Gael’s view of Landing changed again. The inside felt less like a cavern than he had supposed it might, stone ceiling notwithstanding. Large fans freshened the air, and the windows at the front let in a lot more light than the color of the glass suggested. A bar lined one wall, a parade of stools nestled close. Tables spread outward from there, all facing a large stage.

  Miners dressed in Muedini coveralls occupied two of the tables. Several raised their hands in greeting as Bram walked in. Gael tried not to stare when he noticed that one wore a dark glove that might actually be a prosthetic hand. Another had his leg up on the table, coveralls pushed up to reveal a similarly dark limb. The others were all leaning in close, touching and tapping.

  Bram had told him a lot of mining stories that had ended in catastrophe. Gael was glad Bram had managed his thirty years without losing any essential parts.

  “Well look what the wind blew in!” Maia said as they drew up to the bar. She eyed Gael and Bram in turn before smiling down at Aavi. “I didn’t expect to see you all until next month.”

  Bram put a small case on the bar. “Got some samples to send up to Orbital.”

  “How’d those fancy drill bits work out?”

  “Just fine.”

  “And how’s everything over at Henderson? Heard you had a big storm pass through a couple weeks back.”

  Bram shrugged. “Still got my farm.”

  Bram could be wound up on occasion, but his usual conversational mode was to say nothing when nothing needed to be said, and minimal when he could get away with minimal. Gael chuckled quietly to himself. When he caught the twinkle in Maia’s eye, his smile widened and a weird tickle caught him behind the breastbone. He hadn’t missed Maia, specifically. He didn’t really know her, though she seemed nice enough. But he’d missed being with people, and it was kinda nice to share amusement at Bram’s habits with someone else, even silently.

  “Before I forget.” Maia reached under the bar and pulled out a credit chit. She slid it toward Gael. “This is for your locker.”

  “Oh! Thank you.” He picked up the thin plastic card and turned it around.

  “It’s not much, but you should be able to buy yourself something with it. Do you read? Watch HVs? I got a whole new season of Mining Mysteries.”

  Gael glanced at Bram. He’d meant to give this money to him, to pay for, well, everything. To pay him back or even just make amends for all the messes he’d heaped at Bram’s doorway. Bram always waved off any offer of credits, though. And any talk of leaving. Bram wanted him to stay, and after nearly a month of their quiet routine, Gael almost believed him—particularly when he thought about the time he and Bram spent together, not always watching an HV while they quietly pursued their own projects. The evenings when Bram encouraged Gael to lay his head down while Bram stroked his hair. The gentle kisses that frustratingly always stopped short of true heat. The little gifts—usually puzzles carved from stone—that Bram left at the breakfast table some mornings. Most of all, though, the stories Bram sometimes told during those evenings on the couch.

  Ducking his head, Gael pushed the credit chit back across the bar. “Aavi could use some new clothes if you have them.”

  Maia’s eyebrows jumped up, and Bram grunted. Gael glanced over to find he was smiling. Aavi, of course, was grinning and nodding.

  “I think we can handle that.” Maia tipped her head toward a door behind the bar. “You all want to come back?”

  Bram had already taken a seat at the bar and was keying open a holo terminal. “I need to find Orfeo.”

  “He’ll be so thrilled to hear that,” Maia said with a wry smile.

  “He in town?”

  “Somewhere around. Say, did you go in with him on that deal with Cliver?”

  “Claim at the top end of Landing? No. Why?”

  Maia chewed on her lips. “Never mind. Ping his Band. I’m sure he’ll come running.”

  Bram grunted again.

  Gael followed Aavi behind the bar and into the store. The space was larger than he expected, probably expanding into the building next door. Shelves marched down the center in seven precise rows, and each was stacked high with goods. Cans, freeze-dried rations, boxed materials, tools in so many varieties Gael couldn’t even guess at the purpose of most of them. Portable electronics, parts, flat-packed furniture, seed stock, and a selection of live plants under a small plassex dome.

  At first glance, the rows of shelves, all stacked with stuff, reminded him of Price’s place, and an unexpected pang of homesickness hit him. Not for Zhemosen, never that. For the one friend he’d managed to make and keep there. Maia’s store was larger and airier, though, and Gael would bet his credit chit and more that she didn’t have an entrance to any sewers hidden under the last row of shelving.

  Maia was eyeing Aavi with interest. “Not sure I have much in your size, maybe one or two things. Most of the kids on Alkirak are much younger or older. Just born or dragged out here kicking and screaming like mine.” She tilted her head. “We can put in an order. You might want to size up, though. Could be a few months.”

  Gael smiled. Maia even sounded a bit like Price in sales mode. Upselling, outselling, making sure people bought not only more than they wanted, but stuff they didn’t know they wanted yet.

  Maybe while he was in town, near a reliable signal, he should do some poking around on the news nets. Price had assured him that no one could trace their transactions and that Gael “Sonnen” would never be connected to a runaway (and failed) assassin. They’d both assumed Trass would be glad to see the back of him, debt aside. Still, the situation with Aavi was worrying. If he and Aavi were connected somehow, especially on either side of that rifle, it could mean trouble for Bram.

  “Were did you get this, honey?” Maia was inspecting the embroidery across the front of the tunic Aavi was wearing.

  “Gael made it for me out of one of Bram’s old coveralls.”

  “Did he now?” She turned to Gael. “This is your work?”

  “Yeah. Evenings are long on Alkirak.”

  “They are. You know, I could have a job for you after all. There isn’t a big market in pretty things out here. Costs a fortune to ship the basics, so most of the colonists make do with just that. But every now and then I get requests for decorative stuff. Pillows, curtains, quilts, shirts, dresses. Would you be interested in making up a few samples?”

  “Sure!” Gael swallowed the excitement rising in his throat. The opportunity to do something he really enjoyed and be paid for it? Sun, yes.

  “Can you sew as well?”

  “I made a few things for Aavi and myself.”

  Aavi raised her arms and twirled, showing off the less decorative aspects of her tunic.

  “Bram had a few spare shirts and coveralls for me to cut down. We both need clothes, but . . .” Gael held out the chit. It would probably pay for one nice outfit for Aavi.

  “One thing I have a lot of is fabric. You wouldn’t be the only person on Alkirak making their own clothes. Yours might be the best stitched, though. How about if I do you a deal on the fabric, seeing as I need to advance you some for the samples? And you can take your pick of whatever remnants I have. There are a lot of crazy patterns, I warn you. These miners spend all day down a dark hole. Show them a little color and they go wild. But I’m sure you can make something out of them. Everyone could use a pretty quilt or pillow, couldn’t they, sweetheart?”

  This last was directed at Aavi, and she responded with a grin. Gael touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him.

  “Pick out whatever you want and we’ll make you some stuff, okay?”

  Nodding enthusiastically, she followed Maia to the remnants bin where the three of them spent a cozy hour comparing samples, laughing at the wilder patterns, and drawing up a list of what Gael might make. It was about the most entertaining hour he’d passed in a
long while, yet when he returned to the bar, arms weighed down with packages of fabric, needles, and thread, one glimpse of Bram still bent over his terminal sent an entirely new sensation through Gael’s middle. He’d missed Bram. Even while he’d enjoyed Maia’s company, he’d missed the quiet presence of Bram, and he wanted to share his plans. Hoped to see a warm glint of approval in Bram’s eyes as he explained how he might be able to make a few credits on the side by doing something he was good at.

  Bram glanced up and eyed the packages with a raised eyebrow. “Where’s Aavi?”

  “Maia took her to meet her kids. Is that okay, or did you want to get going?”

  “It’s fine. I thought we might stay for whatever show Maia has set for this evening, head back out before sunrise tomorrow.” Bram fiddled with one of his pockets. “Figured you and Aavi might be getting pretty bored out at the farm.”

  “Never.”

  Bram’s hands slipped inside his as he relieved Gael of his burden. “Got anything else to carry?”

  Gael remained still for a practiced second, the way he did whenever Bram touched him. He didn’t often initiate the sweet kisses they shared, but right now, he wanted to. He could tell Bram wanted it too. Wanted more than a kiss. Maybe if they stayed the night away from the farm, away from Aavi, they might cross that final hurdle. Gael almost shivered in anticipation.

  Hands tucked inside his, the pile of wrapped fabric resting between them, Bram met Gael’s gaze and smiled like he knew exactly what was happening. And though Gael wanted more, knew Bram did too, he lived for these pauses, for the silent acknowledgment passing between them.

  They liked each other. Their friendship was a real thing. They wanted each other. The rest would happen, and when it did, it would be real too.

  Orfeo caught up with Bram late in the day. When Maia rolled her eyes, Bram glanced over his shoulder to see him striding up to the bar as if he owned the place.

  “Orfeo.”

  “Abraham. Where’s your bride?”

  “My what?”

  Orfeo gestured around his thick crop of black hair. “Curls, big eyes, too pretty to be on Alkirak.”

  “You mean Gael.”

  Orfeo’s face split in a wolfish grin.

  “He’s around,” Bram said. Checking on Aavi, despite Maia’s assurances that she would be fine.

  “Listen to you, getting all defensive.”

  “What do you want, Orfeo?”

  “Got your ping.”

  Oh, right.

  Raising her eyebrows, Maia gave them a “be nice” look and retreated to the other side of the bar.

  Bram pulled the sample cases out of his thigh pocket. “I need to get these tested.”

  Settling onto the stool next to him, Orfeo picked up one of the cases. “This from that deposit you found?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you want me to help you identify it.”

  “I know Muedini has a small lab in town.”

  “It’s pretty basic. You’d get a better result from Orbital.” Orfeo cracked open the sample case and shook the slim tube of deep-yellow crystal into his palm. “Could be trellacite, except I haven’t seen any this dark.”

  “Me neither.”

  Orfeo glanced up at him. “Why are you giving me this?”

  “Because I have a favor to ask.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “We’re not getting anywhere.”

  With a wry smile, Orfeo held the crystal sample up to the light and squinted at it. “So how are things going with the little mister?”

  “Why are you always disparaging my choices, Orfeo?”

  Orfeo peered around the crystal at him, smile dropping away. “Because you were the best foreman I had, and you’re wasting your talents digging around in that hole you call a farm.”

  “It’s my life. How’s that deal with Cliver working out?”

  Orfeo’s eyes darkened, briefly. Then his expression shifted into something unreadable. “You missed the shuttle on that one, Abraham.”

  It’d be just like Orfeo to overstate the situation, particularly if the investment hadn’t worked out, as Maia’s concern seemed to indicate. But Bram held his tongue—Orfeo wouldn’t appreciate any questions. Bram gestured to the sample. “Maybe I’ll catch the next one.”

  “Humph.” Orfeo slid the sample back inside the case. “I’m going to assume you ran a visual through the Muedini database?”

  “Took me three weeks, but yeah.”

  “Satellite coverage not so good over at Henderson?”

  “You know it’s not.”

  “How’re Gael and Aavi adjusting to all that isolation?”

  “Can we stay on topic here?”

  “Is it difficult to believe I’m interested?”

  Bram pushed out a sigh. “It’s Aavi I want to talk to you about.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Gael rescued her from a pretty rough situation. She was a slave.” Not too badly used, by all accounts, but the idea she’d soon have been used for purposes other than carrying things continually vexed Bram. Children should never be used, for any purpose.

  “Slavery is illegal,” Orfeo said.

  “Not on Zhemosen, it’s not.”

  Orfeo’s eyebrows drew down.

  “I want to make sure no one is looking for her,” Bram continued. “Discreetly.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. But why are you asking me?”

  Because I don’t have anyone else to ask. “You wanted to be in the loop. I’m pulling you in. You’re the law in this town.”

  “’Preciate it, Bram.”

  The front door opened, letting in the purple glow of sunset. Bram identified Gael’s silhouette and beckoned him over. Obviously recognizing Orfeo, Gael approached the bar slowly.

  Orfeo slid off his stool and offered Gael a friendly nod. “Evening, Gael. How are you settling in over at Henderson?”

  “Ah, fine. Just fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Orfeo reached for the sample cases. “I’ll slate these for testing. We should have a full report in a fortnight or so.”

  “Thanks, Orfeo.”

  “You all have a good evening now.”

  Gael watched him go, then turned back to Bram. “He feeling okay?”

  “Orfeo’s not all bad.”

  “Just some bad?”

  “Good men can be assholes as easily as bad men can be kind. It’s what serves the day, hmm?”

  Lips curving in a wry smile, Gael slid onto the abandoned stool. “Sure enough.”

  “How’s Aavi doing?”

  “She’s having a great time.”

  “Good.” Bram picked up his nearly empty glass. “Maia!”

  “What about you, Gael?” Maia called from the other end of the bar.

  Gael’s lips twisted with hesitation.

  “It’s probably now or much, much later,” Bram said, nodding toward the stage, where a rare band was setting up antiquated instruments alongside decks of electronic this-and-that. Actual instruments had fallen out of use for a long, long time, especially with digital music being easier to make and distribute, but at some point the galaxy had realized they liked to watch music happen, and that it was a lot more interesting when it came from an instrument. When a vocalist wept in front of a microphone and a guitar player skidded across the stage and into the arms of his fans. People always wanted to touch other people.

  Bram packed up his holo terminal. “Live music always brings a crowd. Why don’t you grab us a table while you can?”

  The place was already busy, with nearly every table full, and the line at the bar was two deep. Maia delivered two fresh glasses of beer. Bram collected the drinks and made his way to the table Gael had claimed, where he found a man leaning over Gael’s shoulder.

  The skin across the back of Bram’s neck prickled.

  The man had glanced up as Bram approached, and smiled. “Bram! My man. Just introducing myself to your friend here.”
/>   “Hey, Noah. Heard you got married.”

  “And pregnant.”

  Bram glanced at Noah’s midsection. “Early days.”

  “Not me, you lump of rock.” Noah made a show of shuddering. “My wife.”

  “Well, congratulations. She here?”

  “Nope. Left her on the farm to percolate.”

  “What now?”

  Gael was probably forming the impression all former miners were assholes, Bram excluded, hopefully.

  “I didn’t think this would be the right environment for her,” Noah said.

  “I see.”

  “How’s the farm?”

  “Doing okay.”

  Noah pulled out a chair and sat. He nodded toward the glasses Bram was setting down on the table. “S’pose I should head up to the bar before Maia runs out of the good stuff.”

  “I’ll get you one.” Bram wasn’t sure why he’d offered, except he was still on his feet and not that adept at small talk. The nape of his neck continued to itch oddly, though. When he got back to the table, the reason for it became clear. Noah was a good-looking man, and Gael was all pink cheeked and smiling.

  Bram pulled his chair out a little fast. Gael and Noah looked up at the scrape of chair legs against the polished concrete floor.

  “Cheers!” Noah reached for the third drink and raised it up. “To your new find.”

  Bram blinked.

  “I was telling him you found something new down under your terraces,” Gael said.

  They’d been talking about him? The burning at the back of Bram’s neck moved around to the front. “It might be nothing. Just another crystal.”

  Noah was nodding. “Still, if it’s good quality, Muedini ought to pay you well for it. Those tech companies can never get enough crystal for memory chips and such.”

  Which was exactly what Bram hoped for.

  “So what brings you to Alkirak?” Noah asked Gael.

  Gael shot a glance toward Bram. “I, ah . . .”

  “I needed help with the farm,” Bram provided.

  “Oh, yeah? That’s doing more than okay, then. Good for you.” Noah’s smile was genuine, and Bram relaxed a little.

  The conversation shifted between farming and mining and the effects both had on the atmosphere of Alkirak—a favorite subject among locals. Rather than appearing totally bored, Gael seemed engaged and had a lot of comments, most about Bram’s farm and plans for future crops. He’d been listening, then, as Bram shared his ideas.