Space Deputy

by Jenny Schwartz

  Thelma traced a pattern on her desk, doodling with a fingertip as she listened and thought. “At its peak, I heard that the Collegial Ark had tens of thousands of transient inhabitants. You would have been extremely busy if you were communicating with all of them.”

  “With the majority of visitors, I limited myself to superficial interactions, as if I was no more than the managerial support servant the founders wanted me to be. It’s possible even for an AI to be overwhelmed by minutiae and lose focus on critical matters, like the reason I’d joined the Collegial Ark in the first place. I’d wanted to be part of developing multi-species responses to the grand philosophical challenges of existence.”

  His wistful regret resonated with her. “I understand. Well, not the philosophical bit, but wanting a dream that seems possible, only to find it couldn’t be mine. I wanted to serve the Federation as a diplomat, fostering justice and harmony.”

  “The Federation’s principles are admirable,” Lon agreed. “It’s just that we seldom live up to them. And an interstellar deputy’s role has the same goals.”

  She didn’t respond. She thought of thwarted dreams and the Lonesome’s strange crew and how they might have come together. “You were saying how you met Max…?”

  “I met his—no, I haven’t told you how I came to leave the Collegial Ark. Gerhard Hwicce came aboard as a guest lecturer for a week. Gerhard Hwicce,” he prompted when she showed no sign of recognizing the name. “He was president of Hwicce Corporation until his death a decade ago. He expanded it from one of a myriad of large tech construction firms scattered throughout the galaxy to become the preeminent one. People claim he was a genius inventor, able to see the next need, the next step forward. But the truth was, and Gerhard said it himself, his true talent wasn’t in engineering, but in recognizing talent. He could pick people who had the ability to change the status quo and put them where they’d do the most good.”

  “He recruited you,” she guessed.

  “Yes. He admitted later that he came aboard the Collegial Ark with that very purpose. All I perceived at the time was that he was personable, intelligent, and that he respected me. He invited me to join one of his secret development units. In fact, he built it around me, staffing it with people congenial to me, and allowing me to add to the team as we focused our efforts on a particular project.

  “We built the Lonesome. It is the only spherical-cube design spaceship in existence. The cube that houses living, engineering and cargo space is suspended within an armored sphere that is itself capable of being cloaked with a stealth shield that I constantly refine. The Lonesome was built to my requirements, and I feel at home in its structure.

  “It was completed after his death. As per the protocol we had in place from the beginning, the Lonesome was registered as a spaceship, but declared a failed prototype, one capable and certified as safe for habitation and space travel, but unwanted. It was sent to the planet of Gdansk in the Reclamation Sector to be scrapped…in a reclamation yard owned by a Hwicce Corporation subsidiary. I worked on upgrades to the ship and a couple of other projects until Max came along.”

  “I’d left the Star Marines.”

  Thelma jumped at Max’s voice.

  He stood in the doorway. “Lon was transmitting his story to me, too, as I worked in my office. Although I note that there’s yet to be any description of our actual meeting.”

  “Background is always useful,” Lon said.

  Max rolled his shoulders, as a fighter might before a bout. “I know what you’re doing, Lon.”

  “I should hope so,” the AI retorted. “I’m not being subtle.” His snippy tone evened out as he addressed Thelma. “Thelma, I’d like to continue the story on the upper deck.”

  “The mystery deck?” She stared at Max.

  He moved to the side of the doorway and gestured for her to pass. “It’s Lon’s territory, and he invited you.”

  She hurried forward, eager to discover what had been hiding all these months above her. But then she stopped. “If you’d rather I didn’t…” She glanced uncertainly at Max.

  The grim line of his mouth relaxed. “You’ll enjoy the garden.” He put a hand on her lower back, urging her on toward the ladder.

  For a second she hesitated, caught by the mention of a garden and by the feel of his hand.

  He was usually scrupulous in how he touched her. Hand or wrist was fine if he had to guide her, and the few times they trained together, well, touching happened. But otherwise, he adhered sternly to the guidelines designed to guard against sexual harassment.

  A little harassing from Max would be nice, she thought wistfully. Then gasped and almost leapt up the ladder, running from her treacherous urges.

  As she climbed the ladder, the hatch above opened. She emerged into a large space, seemingly the entirety of the deck, that was fully covered in plants. She looked around in wonderment.

  Orderly rows of vegetables gave way to a medieval-style herb garden. Beyond it was a miniature orchard with wildflowers and grasses around the fruit trees.

  “Lon, this is heaven. Can I walk among the plants?”

  “Of course. You’ll see the narrow paths my farm robots use.”

  It was magical, an entire home farm in a spaceship. “I’ve never seen anything like it. No wonder the air is so good on the Lonesome.”

  “It’s my hobby,” Lon replied. “I’m developing strains of edible plants particularly suited to the rigors of space travel.”

  She crouched and brushed her hands over a mint plant, enjoying the fragrance that filled the air and lingered on her skin. “This is why we always had fresh herbs, fruits and vegetables to cook with.”

  “Lon trades some of the surplus or we gift it to passing spaceships and remote mining camps. Otherwise everything either feeds the food dispenser or is recycled.” Max snapped a feathery green tip off a fennel plant and chewed on it. An aniseed scent mingled with that of mint. He looked comfortably at home in the space garden. “This is a good place to relax.”

  “You’re welcome to visit any time, Thelma,” Lon said. “Now that you know about it. We’ve been keeping secrets from you.”

  “You have every right to.” She kept her gaze on Max, directing her words to him even more than to Lon.

  He snapped off a second piece of fennel and held it out to her, perhaps as a peace offering. “Lon is right. For you to understand why I’m so against attracting Galactic Justice attention, you need to know about my background.” He paused, but not as if he wanted her to talk him out of sharing confidences. He was thinking. “Gerhard Hwicce was my grandfather.”

  Thelma coughed and choked on her piece of fennel, inadvertently spitting it onto the dirt.

  “Most people don’t react that badly to me being a trillionaire’s grandson.”

  She whooped for breath. “Not helping.” She leaned over, hands braced on her knees, and sucked in deep breaths.

  After a second, Max rubbed her back in soothing circles. “It’s not that bad. I have a couple of siblings and seven cousins to share the burden with. One of them is being groomed to follow his dad, my Uncle Trevor, as company president. I don’t have to do anything. My sister holds my proxy votes and keeps a close eye on things. Cynny enjoys it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Lon?” Max called. “Confiding in Thelma was your idea.”

  The AI cleared his nonexistent throat. “According to popular wisdom, single women of heterosexual identity are generally happy when they learn that a single man who exhibits interest in them is financially blessed.”

  It was Max’s turn to splutter and turn red.

  Between her shock at Max’s wealth, embarrassment at her coughing fit, and general stupefaction it took Thelma far longer than it should have to pick apart Lon’s complicated statement. Then she grabbed Max’s shirt. “You like me?”

  He tried to tug at his hat brim, but he wasn’t wearing a hat. He ended up tapping his own forehead. “Yes.”

  “You like-like
me?”

  His embarrassment faded and he laughed. “I like-like you.”

  “Oh.”

  He uncurled her fingers from his shirt. “I’m maybe not good at saying so or showing it. I’ve gotten used to guarding my emotions.” He guided her arms around his neck.

  She made no attempt to resist. In fact, she may have stroked the nape of his neck.

  “I’ll just be going,” Lon said.

  “Good idea.” Max stared into Thelma’s eyes. Their mouths came closer and closer, the kiss was imminent.

  “He hasn’t finished the story,” she murmured.

  “Later.”

  They kissed. For a man who controlled himself with a Star Marine’s discipline, when Max let go, he dropped every inhibition. He craved Thelma and his kisses, touches and murmured words told her so. His raw honesty demanded an equal openness from her. The exposed depths of her desire for him rocked her world and her sense of self. She hadn’t known that she could lose herself in another person, or be so vital to anyone.

  It was much, much later that Lon finished his story over dinner. He was gloating and giddily happy at Max and Thelma’s new romantic relationship.

  Harry seemed amused by it, but approving. He lounged at the table as Lon described how he’d monitored Max and Max’s family after Gerhard’s death.

  “When Max resigned as a Star Marine, I sent him a message as a friend of his grandfather’s. I said there was an opportunity on Gdansk that Gerhard would have wanted him to investigate and that we should speak in person.”

  Max smiled at Thelma. “When I reached my hotel, another message directed me to the scrapped spaceship, the Lonesome. The scrapyard was a disorganized mess, but what interested me was the tidy corner that seemed the Lonesome’s alone. And its condition. It didn’t look like a junked ship. The hatch opened, I walked in, and Lon greeted me. We had quite a discussion.”

  He paused to eat some pasta.

  Lon regained storytelling rights. “Gerhard was proud of Max’s decision to become a Star Marine and of his service to the Federation, but he wanted Max to have options outside of it. The Lonesome was one of those. I don’t have to remain embedded in the spaceship for it to function, but…I felt a sort of emotional connection to Gerhard’s family. I offered Max a partnership.”

  Max nodded. “After the mission in which Joe lost his legs I was recommended for promotion. That didn’t sit right with me, for a number of reasons. A year later, I got out. But I didn’t have a plan for civilian life. The Lonesome, and Lon, gave me an option I hadn’t considered, that of interstellar sheriff.”

  “Technically, the Lonesome was a scrapped ship, which reduced its value,” Lon said. “However, I’d maintained its registration. So when Max bought it from the reclamation yard he had a spaceship that wouldn’t raise any flags as being beyond a Star Marine’s purchasing ability. He could have saved hard for a tenth of the price, and either benefited from a modest inheritance or got a mortgage for the remainder. In fact, he bought it outright.”

  Thelma stabbed a baby zucchini coated in a delicious tomato and basil sauce. “Okay, it’s not my business, but Lon, why didn’t you buy the Lonesome?”

  Surprisingly, it was Harry who answered. “Because he wanted it to be Max’s home.”

  “True,” Lon said. “But I found I was also savoring my time in retreat. I had AI friends and a few people who I kept in contact with from their time designing and building the Lonesome, but I liked it that no one from the Collegial Ark or other aspects of my previous life bothered me.”

  Harry watched the two humans finish their meals. “AIs do vanish occasionally. I did. People assume we’re on hush-hush Federal projects. Max being the Lonesome’s owner keeps everything simple, and simple raises fewer questions.”

  Thelma used the tines of her fork to trace patterns in the pasta sauce remaining on her plate.

  The others let her process in silence. There was a lot to take in. A lot to adjust to, not least the new nature of her relationship with Max. She glanced at him.

  He was watching her with a rare tenderness in his expression along with a smidgen of shock.

  She shared that tangle of emotions. Impulsively, she wrapped her fingers around his. “We’re good.” In her own way, she’d been just as isolated as Max; not keeping huge secrets as he had, but alone at the privileged Galactic Justice academy due to her Rock Sector origins. Trusting someone after you’d gotten out of the habit of doing so wasn’t easy. She and Max had habits of reticence to overcome. “I’m guessing that you and Lon chose the job of interstellar sheriff together?”

  “It was Lon’s suggestion. I did mention it to my family, which perhaps had an impact on the fact that I got the job.” He brushed his thumb across her knuckles.

  “The Hwicce family influence,” she teased, her concentration on the shiver of sensation his caress caused.

  “Not exactly.” His mouth twisted in a very strange smile. “Mom is Gerhard Hwicce’s daughter, and while it’s true that the Hwicce clan is meddlesomely inclined to look after its own, I was actually thinking of the other side of my family. My dad.” He stalled.

  Harry chuckled, roughly sympathetic. “Thelma’s handled all your other revelations well. Cough this one up, son. One final complication.”

  Rather than sitting awkwardly twisted in her seat, she stood to face whatever was coming at her. Judging by Max’s conflicted expression it was a doozy of a confession. Was his dad a criminal? Was that why Max hid his background?

  He stood with her.

  Their arms slid naturally around one another.

  “My dad.” His muscles bunched as he unconsciously assumed the square, uncompromising stance of a Star Marine facing an admiral of the fleet. “Dad is Fergus Smith, President of the Federation.”

  Chapter 16

  “No,” Thelma said definitively. “No, you cannot be the President’s son. I can handle you being rich, and that’s why you keep a low profile, to avoid kidnapping attempts, but being the President’s son…no. I’ve seen photos of the president at Christmas. Family photos.”

  “Of my brother, Hugo, and sister, Cynny. Cynthia.” Now that he’d confessed his huge secret, Max relaxed. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “You’ll like Cynny. She’s just as driven as you. She has a law degree, but doesn’t practice law. Her focus is on ensuring that Hwicce Corporation adheres to her principles of ethical corporate behavior. She’s following in Mom’s footsteps as a—”

  “I know about the First Lady’s compassionate causes. Jeepers. You’re serious!” Thelma interrupted. “You’re President Smith’s son. I need to sit down.” She staggered backward as Max guided her to his recliner. He sat and pulled her onto his lap. She focused on his eyes at close range. “Are you ensuring I don’t run?”

  His arms were locked around her. At her half-humorous question, his embrace tightened. “Yes.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder. “Harry over-estimated my ability to cope with shocks.”

  “In your defense, this is a big one.”

  “Yeah.”

  Harry still sat at the table. “Do you want privacy?”

  Max looked at her. “Thelma?”

  “No, we’re all family.” Her breath hiccupped on a near-laugh. “Oh good golly. Does Joe know who you are?”

  “None of my Marine buddies do. It was kept a secret, even from my superior officers. I knew I wanted to serve while I was still at high school. I’m not cut out for civilian life. Hugo, my brother, is like Dad. He likes political games and power plays. But even he doesn’t want the public life Dad and Mom have. Hugo operates behind the scenes, but people still know who he is. He and his family are in official presidential photos. From the age of sixteen, I haven’t been. Mom and Dad tried their best to give me space to choose my own life, rather than have it shaped by their choices.”

  “Given that you’re out on the frontier, respected as a sheriff and kicking ass, I’d say they succeeded.”

  His th
umb stroked the soft skin behind her ear. Her head tilted instinctively into the caress, and he took advantage of the new angle to kiss her mouth.

  Life could be very complicated or very simple. She was attracted to a good guy who returned her feelings. She let go of everything else.

  “So, my family hasn’t scared you off?” he murmured.

  She traced the muscles of his right shoulder, the cords of his neck, felt him swallow under her fingertips, and finally, cupped his head. “I like you, Max Smith. Although this does explain why we’re avoiding Galactic Justice’s attention.”

  His eyes slitted in pleasure as she massaged his scalp. “Senator Gua worries me more. She’s one of Dad’s political opponents. If she learned that I was out here, she’d try to use that information.”

  As an information broker, Thelma could identify any number of ways Max’s existence and his job in the Saloon Sector could be parlayed for political gain by an ambitious senator. None of them promised the continuance of his chosen lifestyle. She frowned. “We’ll keep a low profile. We’ll stick to the patrol route and return to Zephyr.”

  “Via the Deadstar Diner,” Harry said.

  Thelma and Max jolted. They’d forgotten they had an audience. “No,” she said. “It’s only a nagging feeling on my part and dealing with the Kampia isn’t part of our duties.” Her argument didn’t even convince her. They were all dedicated protectors. They defined the interstellar sheriff department’s responsibility for “keeping the peace” broadly. But if her hunch was right and there was going to be trouble, she didn’t want it to involve Max and Senator Gua. This was the Navy’s problem—or someone else’s, anyone else’s.

  “A detour to Darlene’s diner won’t do any harm,” Max said. Now he was trying to convince her. Or maybe himself. “We can have our first dinner date there.”

  Docking at the Deadstar Diner proceeded normally, although Lon commented on the absence of naval spaceships and how much easier things were to navigate without their hulking presence.