Spectra Arise Trilogy

by Tammy Salyer

  “You okay?” Desto helps me up with one hand, pointing a modified Bhishma pistol the size of my forearm at Rajcik’s chest with the other.

  “Fine.” As I brush the sand from my clothes, the need to confront Rajcik and make him suffer for what he’d done fades like a carcass washed off a beach, pulled away by the tide. I’m beginning to understand David’s perspective, how he’d been able to move beyond Rajcik’s betrayal and get to the point where he can see him as an asset instead of an enemy. “I’m fine. Let him be.”

  Desto stares at me for a few seconds, surprised at my quick forgiveness, then holsters the Bhishma and says to Rajcik, “Come on. I’ll show you where you’re bunking.”

  Mason starts an inspection of the ramp hydraulics as Rajcik unloads his belongings and follows Desto inside—to my old bunk. The place I’d called home on many nights for the last three months is now Rajcik’s, another rude slap symbolizing just how dire and desperate things have become. Lending Mason a hand helps pass the time, and a short while later David emerges, soon followed by Vitruzzi and Brady, their hands held tight. I can only imagine what the doc is feeling at this moment. She’s already lost one husband to the Admin. How can she be so calm and resolute, knowing that the chances of reuniting with Brady again are so small? A knot rises in my throat, realizing that the same is true of Karl and I. Hopelessly, I wait for him to come out, at least to say goodbye.

  La Mer and Venus are the last to join us, Venus’s eyes and nose red from crying, and La Mer seems unable to quit wiping his own eyes with his sleeve.

  “I’m going to tell you one last time, I wish you’d let me go to Obal 10 instead of you, Eleanor.” Brady’s face, usually ruddy anyway, has hectic patches of red on the checks, making his scar stand out starkly. There’s no doubting the distress he’s feeling, though he’s trying, like the rest of us, to keep it together.

  “I know you do,” she replies, and brushes a kiss across one of his cheeks. “Someone has to negotiate with T’Kai, and I’m better at it.”

  He grabs her in a tight hug and I hear her whisper, “The Sphynx is yours now. Take care of it. I love you.” When he lets her go, water threatens to break over his lower eyelids, and for the first time, I see softness in Brady.

  “You be safe,” he says and shakes David’s and La Mer’s hands. When he turns to me, that same softness is still there. “You too, Aly.”

  His gentleness hits me like a soft blow, driving home more than anything else the possibility that this may be the last time the crew will ever be together. My voice is tight as I respond, “You all be careful, too.”

  The rest of us say our goodbyes, Desto nearly squeezing me lifeless in a farewell hug, and we make ridiculous promises to be seeing each other again soon. Then the three of us going with Rob mount sandbikes and trace our way up the canyon walls. I look back one more time before boarding the Horizon, but Karl is nowhere to be seen.

  TWENTY-ONE

  “Stay off the bridge,” Montoya says, backing me through the doorway. He towers over me, his brick-shaped jaw only centimeters from my forehead. His face tilts down as he enters the door code, his hostility emphasized by the deep, oversized pores running along his cheek and nose as he promptly seals me out.

  I’ve been walking around the ship, taking in its design and layout in case the need for a quick evacuation or disappearance comes around, laboring valiantly to keep my thoughts strictly on the mission ahead. Most of the doors inside the main hull are locked, and the ones that aren’t lead to insignificant storage rooms and empty berths. Besides our quick flight to R’Kadia, I haven’t been aboard a ship this size since the Corps and find its roominess a little disconcerting. The beauty of these long-haul cargo carriers is their self-sufficient handling. It’s easy for Rob to run a skeleton crew with the ship’s advanced piloting functions. Besides handling takeoffs and landings, the only essential functions to fulfill are setting the coordinates and fixing anything that breaks. Even so, I bet Venus could make it dance like a ballerina if she had a chance to bump it off auto.

  After my sweep, I came to the bridge looking for Rob. The moment I entered the flight deck’s open hatch, Montoya shut me down, jumping from his seat and letting me know in no uncertain terms that the bridge is now off-limits. What are they afraid I’ll do? We’re all headed to the same place. So maybe it’s not what I’m doing that’s of concern, but what they’re doing. Montoya’s behavior is just another example of their odd behavior, and nothing about the crew has put my mind at ease since they landed at the Beach.

  Jesus, has it already been over a week?

  I’d gotten just enough of a glimpse onto the flight deck to see that Rob isn’t there, but it’s time to track him down and get some answers, so I head straight to his cabin. When my knock is answered, I find both him and David inside, sitting at a table and talking.

  “Pull up a seat. I’ve been wondering what you’re up to,” Rob says.

  I sit down. “Why aren’t we allowed on the bridge?”

  There’s a slight blue tinge to his jaw where Karl had struck him, almost lost in the shadow of a day and a half’s growth of dark beard. “Just trying to keep things as under control as possible, Aly. My crew isn’t exactly celebrating the fact that I’ve agreed to help out on this mission—”

  “And why are you helping us? You said yourself that you stand to lose a hell of a lot if it comes out that you’re involved in anything that happens in the next few weeks.”

  Rob hesitates before answering, thinking about his words carefully. His eyes search my face, as if picking out a bottle of Bordeaux. David leans back on two legs of the chair and remains diplomatically quiet, knowing that it’s better for me to get my questions answered now, regardless of my own lack of tact, than to leave me guessing.

  “The Admin went too far. The settlers at the Beach are peaceful people. They shouldn’t be treated like this.” There’s nothing in his dark brown eyes but calm sincerity as Rob continues, “Besides, hundreds of ships go in and out of Tunis City every day. Mine will be just another entry in the dock logs, and no one will be able to connect whatever happens to me.”

  “So that’s it? You just want to help?” I’m not that easily convinced. “What about the money you could make by turning Rajcik in?”

  A worried shadow passes over his features, then it’s gone. “If your crew needs him as much as it sounds like, I’d be doing more harm than good by turning him in.” His glance jumps between David and me. “You know, I’m more than a little curious about this footage you say Rajcik has. I mean, information that could implicate Kurosawa T’Kai—that’s heavy. Any chance I could see it?”

  “I haven’t even seen it,” I comment caustically.

  Changing the subject, David asks, “What about your crew? How did you get them to agree to this?”

  Rob cocks one eyebrow in an expression I can’t read. “They’ll do as they’re told. They’re citizens, but they’re also ambitious enough. If they think there’s a payoff, they won’t question too much.”

  “Rob, there’s no payoff in this deal.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t know that.” His mischievous grin is tired, and he sighs. “I’ve thought of something to keep them off your backs. Leave that to me.”

  “Look, Rob, I wish this didn’t have to involve you. You realize that, right?” David says, his face drawn. “Old friends or not, you’ve got more at stake here than we do. If there was any other way, we wouldn’t have asked for your help.” My brother the peacemaker. He didn’t get my temper, which is a surprise. It was David’s father who was always the angry one, the guy who’d jump off the handle if you said anything disrespectful or sarcastic. David’s father, not mine. We only had the same mother, and David tells me she was always more passive, docile even, before she split.

  “After the shit we’ve been through together, brother? This is nothing. You’d do the same for me.” Rob seems to relax a little, and his charismatic grin returns.

  We fall silent for a m
inute, then David pushes back from the table and stands up. “I’m going to get something to eat. Anyone else hungry?”

  Neither of us are, and David drops a teasing wink at me before heading toward the galley.

  Rob leans forward and lays a hand on my leg. “So how are you holding up?”

  I have to think about that for a second, but thinking makes me worried, and worry makes me feel helpless. I answer stonily. “I really don’t know. How would you be doing in this kind of situation?”

  “Yeah, I hear you.”

  Our eyes stay locked. “I’m sorry about Karl…” I trail off, not really knowing how to apologize for something like that.

  Anger flashes behind his pupils, but he shrugs. “Yeah, well, I’ll live. But your boyfriend better not try that again. It could get messy.”

  His comment strikes a painful chord, and I look away, letting the conversation lull. Rob leans back on his chair and takes his hand off my leg. After a few seconds, I start to stand up to leave but am stopped by his muffled chuckle, as if I’d said something mildly amusing. “Look, Aly, it’s obvious that you’re in love with him. So why don’t you just tell him—go and be with him? I mean, I know I have my appeal”—he smirks a little—“but what are you doing with me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, give me a real answer.”

  Tearing my eyes away from the table and looking into his face is harder than it should be, but I’d made a deal with myself to start being honest. So I answer with the truth. “Being with you—it’s just easier. You seem like a better alternative.”

  He stares at me blankly for a second, then his lips wrinkle back in a cynical smile. “I’m an alternative. Alternative to what? Forgive me for sounding like an asshole, Aly, but that’s exactly what you just sounded like.” He chuckles again, like an exhalation. “You’re still so much like that kid you were a few years ago. I have to admit, I’m a little surprised.”

  I want to be angry at him, but I just don’t I have the energy. In fact, more than anything, I feel tired. Depressed. Like I lost something I should have fought for much, much harder. He must sense the way my mood is spiraling because he stands up and puts his arms around me tightly, almost protectively. “Hey, sorry. You’ll be all right. You just have to quit worrying about it, you know. Things will work out the way they’re supposed to. ’Cause look, it’s not hard to tell he feels the same way about you. You both just have to relax long enough to tell each other the truth.”

  I pull away, not liking the way he’s lecturing at me, as if to a child. “What do you know, Rob? You’re not exactly an expert on relationships. You want to talk about honesty? Do you really think I believe there’s nothing going on between you and Baker? And back in the Corps, when your detachment got reassigned, what happened there? Did you even try to keep in touch?”

  Instead of biting at my hotheaded bait, he walks away and sits down on the bunk. “Yeah, I noticed the waves pouring in from you.”

  Ouch. Nothing like pointing out someone’s hypocrisy to douse whatever self-righteous fire they were starting to whip up. Instead of getting pissed off and storming out of his cabin, I’m back to feeling the same empty sadness that’s begun to take up permanent residence in the pit of my stomach. “Yeah, well, I was still a kid. Like you said.”

  Before I can walk out, he comes up behind me and gently takes hold of one of my wrists. “Come on, don’t be like that. We have too much happening to start fighting over old news.” The sincerity in his face is enough to melt through some of the frost starting to form between us. “I’m sorry, okay? We’re good, right?”

  “Yeah. We’re good.” My eyes are pinned to the ground, and I start to speak before I realize what I’m going to say. He’s always had this kind of effect on me, made me feel like it’s safe to talk to him. “It’s really not as easy as you think it is, though. Karl and I are through. And once this job is over, once we get the settlers free, I can’t go back to the Beach. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  He’s silent and I begin to feel a little foolish. It’s not like me to be so forthcoming.

  “You could become a citizen.”

  There’s no need to tell him how crazy I think he is; the expression on my face makes that clear enough.

  “I mean it. You said you had money—it’s not that hard to buy an identity. You know? Your records were destroyed in the Rebellion, right? And you haven’t been arrested and IDed since you deserted, right?

  “That’s right.”

  “I know people who could make you a real person, fabricate an entire life history for you, and get you back on the Admin registry. It could be a fresh start for you.”

  “And what would I do?”

  “You could come work for me.”

  I say nothing.

  “Okay, okay. Whatever you want. That’s my point, though. You can start over and do anything you want.”

  Before I can even think of how to respond, Sims comes through on Rob’s wrist VDU. “Captain, you need to get up in the flight deck. There’s some trouble with one of the, uh, passengers, the one that works with the smuggler.”

  “What kind of trouble? You were supposed to be watching him!” Rob answers while reaching inside his closet to retrieve a handgun, instantly transformed into the no-nonsense platoon sergeant I remember from the Corps.

  “He’s a sneaky sonofabitch. Slipped out of the galley while I was eating. Montoya says he bypassed the code somehow and just walked on deck. He’s under control now.”

  I follow Rob out of the cabin during Sims’s explanation, and we move out at a good clip toward the flight deck. I’m not in the least surprised Thompson pulled this kind of maneuver; he isn’t one to stand by meekly and do what he’s told, unless Rajcik is doing the telling. Halfway down the crew quarters corridor, Rob stops at the elevator and uses a personal code to open the door. It puts us one story up, directly onto the flight deck. When the doors open, we’re staring into a wall of streaked blackness. The observation shields are open and the entire front surface gives us a view into nothingness as we cruise through hyperspace.

  Thompson sits stiffly in a seat near the door with his lower lip split and bleeding. Montoya stands nearby shaking one fist limply, letting the sting in his knuckles diminish, and pointing a pistol at Thompson with the other hand.

  Rob turns to Sims, who stands just on the other side of the main entryway working with a set of dangling wires extruding from a missing panel where the entry keypad belongs. “Damn it, Sims. How hard can watching one guy be?”

  Sims glares back. He’s taller than Rob by a few centimeters, but lanky and long limbed and closer to my age. His frosted blue eyes rest on Rob angrily, obviously resentful of the criticism, but he keeps his mouth shut.

  “Captain, he used this to get through the door. And I took this from him,” Baker informs Rob, handing him a portable electronics board with various leads hanging from it and a pistol. “He wanted our client’s name and clearance codes for Tunis.”

  Scowling at Thompson, Rob says, “Who our clients are is not your problem. You’re just a passenger on this trip and you either follow the rules, or you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

  “I’m just making sure you aren’t flying us straight into an Admin security station.” Thompson’s angular face and crooked, jack-o-lantern eyebrows always make him appear to be sneering. The expression is more pronounced with Montoya’s pistol pointed at him.

  “Even if we were, there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it,” Baker says.

  The look on Thompson’s face makes it clear that Montoya’s pistol is the only thing keeping him from leaping at her. “Fuck you, bitch.”

  “Quiet. We’ve got a few days to go. Everyone here needs to keep their mouths shut and stay where they belong.” Rob sweeps the crew, Thompson, and me with a hard stare. “Thompson, you’re just going to have to take it on faith that we’re doing exactly what we promised Vitruzzi we’d do. Since that doesn’t
seem to be easy for you, you’ll stay in your bunk until we get there.”

  “Try it,” he mutters, but not loud enough for Rob to have to do anything about it.

  “Montoya, put him and his gear in twelve,” he waves the bypass board at the crewman, “and double-check that there’s nothing in there he can use to short out the lock.”

  “I can take him,” I volunteer. This is a good opportunity for me to make it crystal clear to Thompson what will happen to him and Rajcik if they fuck this operation up.

  “No way,” Baker instantly says.

  “It’s fine,” Rob jumps in. “Go ahead, Aly. You know where it is?”

  “Captain—” Baker continues to argue.

  “It’s fine.” He turns and faces her, his stance rigid and irritated. She holds his eyes for a few seconds, then turns angrily back to the navigator console.

  Putting my hand on my Sinbad, I jerk my eyes toward the exit to get Thompson moving. He does it with a last scathing look at the crew.

  When we’ve walked too far from the bridge to be overheard, he says, “That crew is Corps.”

  “Don’t be an idiot.” He stops and turns to face me, prompting me to pull out my ’Bad. His long figure and wide shoulders create a barrier directly in front of me, but the corridor is plenty wide enough to dodge if he lunges. “Keep moving.”

  “What? Are you blind? Living on that rock made you stupid, Erikson. You used to be able to smell Corps coming before they were in atmo.”