by T. M. Catron
Rance narrowed her eyes. “It was an honest mistake. But I’ll say sorry again if it will help.”
Solaris chuckled. “I’m okay. You can stop apologizing.”
“What’s really bothering you?”
Solaris shook his head. “Been having those dreams. Again.”
“The ones where the universe is destroyed?”
“Yes. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
Rance felt a twinge of guilt for waking him. She shifted on her feet, ready to move the conversation to a safer topic, but her innate curiosity bypassed the desire. “Why won’t you let me see your real face?”
“It’s for your own protection. I thought you knew that.”
“I thought we were beyond this, sunshine. If we’re ever caught with you, everyone’s going to know that we have been running around with a Galaxy Wizard all this time, if Unity doesn’t know already. At this point, it will be difficult to claim ignorance.”
Solaris sighed.
“Is it that bad?” Rance couldn’t believe she was asking. They had become friends over the last the few months, but she wasn’t comfortable asking Solaris deeply personal questions. Still, they spilled out of her mouth like water gushing out of the leaky pipe.
To her surprise, Solaris didn’t seem offended. In fact, he smiled. “I was wondering when you would get around to asking more questions.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “I guess I’m just not used to having someone to talk to about it. Not that there’s much to talk about. You know the basic story.”
The Galaxy Wizards had plucked Solaris from a battle between the Empire Triton and pirates. Then they had raised him, trained him, and made him one of their own.
Rance had lived a different childhood. She had been cared for, part of a family. Even though she disagreed with her father about many things and her mother had been absent most of her life, Rance hadn’t dealt with much hardship until she became an adult. She couldn’t imagine what Solaris had gone through as a child with severe burns.
“I don’t want pity, Captain.” He was studying her again, judging her reaction, perhaps. “Anyway, why are we standing in the hall?”
Rance looked up and down the corridor, realizing that she didn’t know how long they’d been there. She should be in the cockpit, ready for the jump into hyperspace.
“I came to see if you’re okay,” she repeated.
“Thank you.”
Solaris looked at her moment longer, then nodded and moved down to the lav at the end of the corridor. Rance watched him go, thinking that he had many layers and that she had only scratched the surface of them.
Then the captain berated herself. Solaris’ personal life was none of her business. Although Rance felt protective of him, just as she did the rest of her crew, she couldn’t help but feel like she owed him something. Then Rance remembered that she had helped him just as much as he helped her, and she felt a little better. It wouldn’t stop her from worrying, though. If Solaris’ dreams had returned, she didn’t want to add to his hardship by peppering him with questions.
As Rance made her way back to the cockpit, she again reminded herself that the crew was safe and happy, and they had a good job ahead of them. She couldn’t ask for more.
At dinner, the crew crowded into the galley to eat. They had ten hours to Iliea 4. After, the ship’s night cycle would begin, and they would all get some rest before landing.
Rance was scooping raspberry-flavored gelatin onto her spoon when Solaris appeared. He looked better than he had earlier—hair combed, freshly shaved. He grabbed a plate and eased into his customary seat on the bench across from Rance.
She looked away, and James caught her eye. The corners of his eyes crinkled, signaling his good humor. He wouldn’t pass up a chance to tease Rance some more about the ‘accident.’ He had been giving her heck about it for the last twenty-four hours. Solaris, who had more cause to be offended than anyone, hadn’t mentioned it again. But the way he moved about the ship was a clear indicator that he was more injured than he had admitted to Rance.
“When we reach Iliea 4,” Rance said, “James will go with me to make the arrangements. Solaris will supervise any cargo to be brought on board. Oh, and Tally.”
“Yes, Captain?” Tally asked. He sat to her right, his long arms tucked into his sides to keep them out of everyone’s way. He turned his bright green eyes to her.
“I still want to upgrade our comms. You and Harper do some quick research while we’re on the planet’s network. I may not get a Ghost”—Rance glared at Abel—“but it’s ridiculous to carry around outdated handsets when there are so many other options.”
As if on cue, the smell of cinnamon permeated the galley, and Henry, the pet cappatter, made an entrance. He cooed when he reached Solaris, wrapping four of his six long arms around the CO’s calf. Solaris shook him off. His nose wrinkled as if he wanted to sneeze, but he managed to stop it. When Abel had first brought Henry on board, Solaris had been severely allergic to the cappatter. Harper had tried many antihistamines to alleviate his suffering. All of them had failed. In the end, they’d had to wait for Solaris to build up an immunity to the furry little creature. Solaris still wasn’t pleased about having the cappatter on board. Rance pretended not to like it, either, but many nights Henry ended up snuggling with her in her room whether she invited him or not. She no longer shooed him away.
After they’d cleared dinner, James and Harper pulled out a deck of old-fashioned cards. Abel, who was on kitchen duty for the next month, washed up while the rest of the crew sat around chatting. These were some of Rance’s favorite times. Despite their little squabbles, everyone got along, and there was nowhere she’d rather be than with all of them, cutting up and joking and trading stories. Harper made tea, Abel finished the cleanup, and they all joined in the card game.
Solaris played for a while, then rose first.
“Afraid you’ll lose to me?” Rance asked him. “I’m on a winning streak.”
He hesitated at the door. The others played on while Solaris and Rance locked eyes. She silently dared him, willing him to stay and see the end of the game.
“I think he remembers what happened the last time you challenged him, Captain,” James said as he played a card. “Since it was just last night, it’s still fresh on his mind. Well, not his mind…”
Abel snickered.
Tally scowled. “Cool it, James.”
Solaris turned back to the table. He sat down, grabbed his cards, and winked at Rance. “It’s alright, Tally. I’ll play if that’s what the captain wants.”
“What are you betting this round?” Harper asked. The crew always gambled their shipboard duties.
“I want someone else to do my laundry for a change.”
Rance smirked. “Won’t be me, sunshine.”
“Laundry it is, then,” Harper said, and dealt everyone a new hand.
The game was both simple and complex. Everyone got five cards. Like an old-fashioned game of poker, the object was to get a better hand than the other players. The similarities ended there. After every play, the players switched hands, forcing them to play somebody else’s cards for a round. The trick was to count the cards, remember who had what, and use that to call a player’s bluff or bid according to their hand. It began simply. The longer it went on, and the more people who stayed in the game, the more difficult it became to remember who had what.
Harper was exceptionally good at it. More often than not, she ended up giving away chores to Abel and James. Rance, who favored an equal treatment of all crew members, had lost to Harper plenty of times as well. Harper loved to give away lav and kitchen duty. Solaris didn’t always play. When he did, he was cautious, typically folding before he lost too spectacularly.
This time, he hung in there, playing hand after hand, smiling when he won a round. Rance, who loved a challenge, couldn’t stand to lose to him after she’d goaded him into playing. Sh
e refused to fold and ended up losing the next three hands. Everyone else was out.
Solaris had lost a hand somewhere, gained all the laundry, and then bid it back in. At this point, Rance would have to do everyone’s laundry if she lost to Solaris.
“It’s all on the clothes line, Captain,” James said. “Win this hand, and Solaris does the ship’s laundry for a month. Lose, and you’ll have to assign everyone back their own laundry.”
“If I lose, James, I’ll do the laundry. Fair is fair.”
“Considering you haven’t done laundry in the last ten months,” Solaris said, laying down a card and reaching for a new one from Harper, “I’m not sure I want you doing mine, Captain. You might mess something up.”
“I seem to remember,” James said, “that—back in the day when I first started—the captain always found cleaners or someone to wash her uniforms when we landed. I’m not certain that she’s ever done her own laundry.”
“I have!” Rance protested, smiling.
“When?” Solaris asked.
“When I first got the Star Streaker, before I got a regular crew. I flew the ship, couldn’t afford a cleaner. I did my laundry here.”
“How long ago was that?” Abel asked.
“Almost six years.” Rance smiled wickedly. “Are you sure you want me to lose?”
Solaris laughed. “Oh yes, I’m sure. This is going to be fun.”
Looking straight into her eyes, he laid down his cards with a flourish. “Four Kings.”
Rance looked at her own cards, smirking.
Stalling.
Son of Triton, she thought with dread. He had called her bluff.
“Let’s see them, Captain,” Solaris coaxed.
Rance laid down her cards. Nothing. She had nothing—a pair of tens.
The crew laughed. Everyone except James, who looked worried.
“Something wrong, James?” Tally asked.
“Captain,” James said, “I’d like to withdraw my laundry from the bag. I’d rather do my own, thanks.”
“Nothing doing, pilot,” Rance said, still smiling at Solaris. “I lost. I do laundry.”
James, who was as particular about his clothes as he was his hair, sighed.
“Maybe you’ll stop fussing about the pleat on your pants and begin taking your training more seriously,” Tally said.
James sniffed. “There’s nothing wrong with being presentable.”
“Well,” Solaris said with a smug smile, “that’s a solid night’s work. Goodnight, everybody. Captain, I’ll have my laundry to you tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait,” Rance said, flashing her best smile.
Abel choked on the last drop of his tea. James shook his head, and the group departed. Rance hung back, pretending to wash out her mug. “Harper,” she hissed.
The woman stopped and moved to stand by the sink. The captain leaned over conspiratorially. “I haven’t done laundry since I was a recruit at the Flight Academy. Will you show me how the laundry machine works tomorrow? The ones we used at the Academy were old clunkers.”
Harper snorted. “Why would I do that, Captain? Ours is simple to use if you know where to pour the detergent.”
“I don’t know where to pour the detergent, and your clothes are in that bag too. Unless you want them stretched to fit Abel, I think you better help me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Harper said. She mock saluted and tried to move away again.
“Harper,” Rance hissed again, turning to face the rest of the galley. She looked down the hall leading to crew quarters and out the door leading to the cargo bay. Satisfied no one else was hanging around, she whispered again. “What did you mean yesterday before Solaris and I fought?”
“Which part?”
“The part where you said not to take out our frustrations on the object of our affection.”
Harper shrugged. “I was just playing around. Why?” Then, her eyes widened in understanding. “Oh. You don’t know—really?”
Rance stood resolutely, determined to let Harper explain herself rather than admit anything unnecessarily.
Harper took the hint. “Captain, it’s pretty obvious that Solaris is crazy about you. Are you really that blind?”
Rance took a deep breath. That wasn’t the answer she had expected. She had expected Harper to tell her the reverse—that Rance had let her feelings for Solaris show.
“No, I’m not blind,” she said truthfully. How could she be? Solaris’ teasing had always bordered on flirting, more lately than ever before. Rance had chosen to believe it was a result of her own attraction to him, rather than to be presumptuous about Solaris’ feelings.
Harper sighed, sounding relieved. “Good. I had hoped you weren’t just toying with him.”
“Harper! I wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Harper said, crossing her arms. Although she was tiny compared to Rance, she looked no less fierce at the moment.
“No,” Rance said firmly. She shook her head. “I wouldn’t. I’m shocked you would think that about me. Am I really that shallow?”
Harper leaned against the table. “Of course not. It’s obvious you care about all of us. No one doubts it. But you have walls up to protect yourself. It’s natural from someone who has had to fight for her independence. And from someone who has been forced to lead at a young age.”
Rance smiled. “I’m older than you.”
“—and raised from birth to be a leader, to hide your feelings behind a stoic mask of doing the proper thing. Don’t misunderstand me, I admire you for it. But Captain, we’re all family here. No one would blame you for loosening up a bit.”
“The rules stay, Harper.”
Harper shook her head. “I’m not talking about the rules. I’m talking about you.”
With that, Harper turned toward her quarters, picking up Henry on her way. Rance leaned against the counter a while longer, contemplating her friend’s words. Is that what the crew thought? That Rance was stodgy, unbending?
But then, a captain had to be a leader. A leader had to show strength. No one ever faulted Solaris for being stoic although he was the most ardent rule-follower Rance had ever known.
Then, what in all of Triton was Harper talking about?
Chapter Four
Six hours later, the Streaker landed on Iliea 4, one of the busiest civilian spaceports in the Empire. All around them, ships took off and landed. Engines and the crowds buzzed like bees at a beehive. Inside the station, the happy smells of metal and grease filled Rance with comfort. A tall, vaulted ceiling allowed smaller ships to pull inside so travelers could board their transports without having to walk outside in the weather.
A blast of hot, humid air shot through the platform, bringing with it the scents of flowers mixed with the burning smell of thrusters. Iliea 4 was a planet of rivers, rainforests, and sparkling cities. It was a jewel of the Empire Triton. Not a Core World, but one of the most beautiful of the Outer Colonies.
If its citizens didn’t mind enormous, biting, flying insects. Rance swatted a long mosquito-looking thing that landed on her arm.
James walked beside her. “We are looking for a woman named Eva Cross,” he said. “She should be waiting for us with her bags just inside the port office.”
The task was easier said than done. People swarmed all over the port, jostling anyone in their way. Since Rance was a head taller than just about everybody, she peered over hair and hats, looking at the seats near the office. Civilians, noblemen, and peasants sat there waiting to board their transports. A special section marked with a purple banner reserved the grander areas for the noblemen, who enjoyed plush seats, servers, and entertainment. Their own servants had to sit in a different section, separated like the second-class citizens that they were.
Rance turned away in disgust. Her family lived like that. Rance’s father Davos always traveled with an entourage. Her mother did too. Rance was happy to be removed from all of that pomp and circumstance, and from the elitist attitude
that caused nobles to turn up their noses at regular folk. Rance belonged to ships and travelers and cargo and adventure. She was about to make a comment to James when a woman sitting in the peasants’ section caught her eye.
She was dressed plainly in a simple white tunic, brown leggings, and muddy leather boots. A hood covered part of her head, but chestnut brown waves peeked out the side. The woman had a beautiful face with high cheekbones, strong but feminine jawline, and a perfectly shaped nose. Her expression was stoic and grand as if she had been carved out of stone rather than made of living flesh. Rance gaped.
“Captain?” James asked.
“That’s my mother.”
Rance couldn’t believe it—her mother was dressed as a peasant, looking as if she were waiting for a common transport. Rance had never seen Jane wear anything but the most elegant clothing and elaborate hairstyles.
As an independent woman who liked parties, Jane had never enjoyed living on Xanthes, an Outer Colony full of dust and sand and smugglers. She spent all her time away from home traveling, partying, and mixing with high society.
But there she was, sitting calmly and serenely amongst mere mortals, watching something on a handset. Without all her makeup and beautiful clothes, Jane almost looked approachable. At the same time, she looked like a queen in disguise.
“Your mother?” James said as he scanned the noblemen’s section.
Rance shook her head and pointed to her mother sitting over on a hard bench.
James whistled. “She’s beautiful.”
“Shut up, James. That’s my mother.”
James shrugged. “Just stating the obvious.”
Rance dithered on the spot, torn between running away and pretending not to see Jane and stopping to say hello. Ten months ago, the same day Rance hired Solaris, she had tried to visit her mother on Xanthes. But Jane had been off-world.
Although Rance hadn’t seen her mother in two years, rushing up to her for a hug never crossed Rance’s mind. The two women had never been close, but since Jane had sort of taken up for Rance when Davos tried to marry her off to Harrison McConnell, Rance had a soft spot for her mother. She sighed, deciding it was best to speak to her mother in case Jane noticed her first.