by J. S. Morin
Rai Kub looked aside. “I… may have had some other time on my hands occupied.”
Carl grinned at the shy stuunji. “You sneaky bastard. You met a girl, didn’t you?”
The stuunji minister tugged at his collar. “My… um, position has seemed to make me more desirable to suitors. My sister reports that ten women a day approach her with sibling offerings to introduce them. Perhaps if things go well, I might invite you to New Garrelon on a special permit when it’s time for my wedding.”
“Don’t be a stranger. OK, Rai Kub? You invite me and Amy, and we’ll fly circles around the galaxy to get there.”
“Thank you. Rai Kub out.”
The comm went dark. Carl chuckled to himself. The offer was politeness both ways. Earth was probably never going to grant a visitation permit to an official from a rebel government, and New Garrelon wasn’t likely to have Carl as a guest while they were allied with a species he’d killed like shooting gallery ducks back in the war years.
“Good for you, big guy. Get a little rhino cutie of your own. You deserve to catch a break.”
# # #
The Mobius jetted through astral space. Their course would bring them to the Sol system within a few days if nothing changed. Not everyone had come along.
Archie had opted to stay behind. That wasn’t surprising, seeing how his mere existence in civilized society was illegal. There might be a few sympathetic tongue clucks from the One Life Party, but the OLP didn’t have many seats in Earth Parliament. The hardliners held sway back home, and even with anti-xeno sentiments running high, there would always be time to push the anti-AI agenda to the fore. The Convocation made sure of that.
As for Keesha Bell, staying behind made sense for a different reason. Earth Interstellar was after her. Heading to the planet with their headquarters, training center, and innumerable field offices would have been sheer, unvarnished hubris. Not that wizards were immune to that foible, but the Convocation was after her too. Hobson, of course, stayed with his boss.
But Cedric had surprised Carl by opting to remain behind as well.
At some level, all of them were fugitives of one sort or another. You simply didn’t commit the sorts of crimes they did without gaining notoriety in law enforcement circles. Carl could barely recall the last time they’d had their records digitally cleaned. For all her prowess with naval systems and slightly out-of-date civilian computers, she hadn’t gained the access needed to manually alter their records.
Cedric was only wanted by the Convocation, as best Carl knew. And the last place those stuffy, baggy-sleeved busybodies were liable to look was their own back garden. There was something more bothering Cedric, and Carl suspected it had to do with how Esper had been treated during her captivity by the Poet Fleet—which was to say: as the admiral’s mistress.
The ship had been cleaned out as well. Carl hardly recognized his ride. So many systems were chop-grade, out of spec, or downright illegal that he’d wondered if Roddy could make it both spaceworthy and star-lane legal without a complete overhaul. As it turned out, a little basic maintenance and clearing out Yomin’s quarters was all it took.
Amy interrupted Carl’s musings by easing into the co-pilot’s chair. She joined him watching the blank gray slip past at incalculable and imperceptible speeds.
“How you doing?” he asked casually. “Kid still keeping you up?”
“I miss being able to drink until sleep was easy,” Amy replied. “But no. Just jitters.”
“Second thoughts?” Carl could only hope.
Amy’s eyes twinkled as she replied. “You’re not getting off that easy.”
“Whoa. Not looking to pull the eject on the marriage part of things. But you say the word, we can get hitched out in Orion or Delos.”
“Earth,” Amy stated firmly. “I’m doing this right. My mom gave up hope of me ever settling down and having a semi-normal life. But she never gave up on me. I was hell on that woman. Didn’t mean to be, but I was. If I’d never been born—”
Carl shot a finger Amy’s way. “Hey! None of that. Your mother might have come apart at the seams, but that’s not your fault. You wanna get married with your mom there. I can’t relate, but I can understand that. Roddy’s idea of a med-assist flight might be worth looking into, though. It’d be easier to get her off Earth than sneak all of us in.”
Amy sighed and slouched in her chair, hands folded across her swelling stomach. “Don’t you think I know that? But I want mom happy. It’s closure. It might be our only time getting back to Earth in her lifetime. I’m a realist. I know if we pull this off it’s a one-time deal. I want to visit home again, get married with mom and a few family friends there, say a proper goodbye to everyone in person—”
“And prove to everyone that you turned out OK,” Carl added in his take on the real reason Amy wanted to get back to Earth. “I get that. I grew up with different expectations than you. Respectability was a crime in my family. It got my sister Jaime killed, playing soldier and enlisting. I joined the navy as much to piss off my dad as anything. My parents will come just to rub my nose in running me off Ithaca.”
Amy snorted. “You’re inviting Chuck and Becky? We never talked about it, but I’d just assumed you were snubbing them.”
The leather of the pilot’s chair creaked as Carl settled himself comfortably with his hands behind his head. “Yeah? Well, let’s just say rubbing noses goes both directions. I’ll comm mom as soon as I decide how to phrase the invite.”
# # #
The turntable blared Fleetwood Mac, and the Scotch was a double. Becky Ramsey wasn’t much of a singer, but she mouthed along to the words of a song she’d named a daughter after. The former navy ship had only started feeling like home the past few months, but now that she was used to living large, the roomy captain’s quarters were making her last apartment feel shabby by comparison.
The comm chimed. Rolling her eyes, Becky threw back the last of her Scotch and scooped up the bottle on her way to the comm panel. To her surprise, the comm was from Carl.
“Playback, pause,” she called out. Despite the turntable having a needle and playing authentic replica vinyl records, it still accepted voice commands. She tapped the screen to accept the video comm. “Hey, sweetie. Didn’t expect to hear from you after that business with Tanny.”
Carl looked healthy—for him, at least—despite a case of stubble and some dark rings under his eyes. Nothing bloodshot. Cheeks full. Hair greasy but not falling out. He was keeping the booze in check and staying off the hard stuff, it seemed.
“Hey, mom. Yeah. That was half a moon less than I should have lost. My mistake. But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Really?” Becky asked, pouring another glass without looking away from the screen. The day she couldn’t fill a tumbler blind would be the day she stopped drinking. “Because your father seems to think you owe a little more than an apology.”
“I’m getting married, Mom.”
Scotch spilled over the edge of her glass. Getting surprised mid-pour didn’t count. “Again?”
“Yeah. Last time. I swear.”
“Is it the creole girl or the one with watermelons down her shirt?” After seeing him with a marine all those years, it was hard to get a read on Carl’s taste in women.
“Neither,” Carl replied. “I’m marrying Amy, the one who used to fly with me in the navy.”
“I thought she swung the other way.”
“Nope. Oh, and you’re going to be a grandmother.”
The tumbler fell from limp fingers, saved from shattering by the shag carpet.
“You all right?” Carl asked, peering down as if trying to see through the comm panel what had crashed like glass.
“A grandmother?” Becky echoed. “One of my little vagabonds is finally going to have a baby?”
“Technically, Amy is. But I had something to do with it.”
This was all too much. Rhiannon had seemed like the best bet. That one at least kept
trying. She’d given up on Michelle and Carl. “You’re sure? I mean, she hasn’t been—”
“No, Mom. Baby’s mine. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Becky lifted the bottle to her lips and drank. She gasped and hoped her swimming head would clear. “Amy’s the one with the gap teeth and the corn rows, right?”
“They were braids, Mom. And she’s let her hair down since then. And her teeth are fine. Geez, I’m trying to invite you to a wedding here. Can you just say ‘yeah, what time?’ and be done with it?”
“When? Where? Tell me everything! I want details! I need to meet my granddaughter’s mother.”
“It’s a boy,” Carl said. “And you’ve met Amy. Multiple times. Maybe if you laid off the hard stuff, you could remember.”
Becky lifted the bottle of Scotch into clear view of the comm panel. “This? Aw, this is kids’ stuff. My mind’s clear as a bell. You tell me when and where, and we’ll be there. I… assume your father’s invited too?”
Carl let out a beleaguered sigh. “Yeah. Dad too. Anyone else from the syndicate who wants to come is welcome—not the fucking marines but the old navy crew and anyone I brought in after.”
“Chuck!” Becky shouted into the washroom. “Get out here! We’re going to be grandparents, and Carl’s getting married again.”
Chuck came out in all his glory, dripping wet and hairy all over except for the skin of his freshly shaved face. He wrapped a towel around his waist as he made his way over to the comm panel.
“Brad?” Chuck called out as he approached, squinting his aging eyes to make sure he saw what he imagined. “Damn, son. I knew the cojones didn’t fall far from the tree, but you’ve got a lot of nerve calling here after that stunt you pulled. What’s this about grandkids.”
“Amy’s pregnant. You’re invited to the wedding. It’s on Earth in six days. You can make it if you book a fast transport. I’d recommend flying with Tanny since I hear she’s got a wizard who can do Mort-style astral drops.”
“Slow your roll there, cowboy. What’s this about Earth?”
“He’s getting married on Earth for some fool reason,” Becky said. “But, hell with it. If he wants to knock up his lady, I’ll fly to a supernova to see the baby.”
“It’s six days, Mom. The baby’s not coming for a while. It’ll just be little old me and my expectant fiancée. You know, plus the other guests.”
“Why Earth?” Chuck asked. “Why not just have it here? You’re still brigands and swindlers.”
“No offense, Dad, but you’re a sore loser,” Carl said. “There’s—”
“That’s no way to talk to your father, he—”
“I can defend myself. I don’t need you to—”
“But he shouldn’t talk—”
“I’ve handled harder men than Brad without breaking a sweat over a few barbed-wire jabs. I can certainly—”
“He’s gone,” Becky said.
Chuck grunted. “Rude kid. Michelle’s the one who got the grace in the family.”
The comm panel had gone blank. Carl had cut off the transmission.
# # #
Sitting quietly just outside the view of the comm panel, Amy offered a forced smile. “That went well.”
Carl drew back his arm to throw a beer can but took a deep breath and lobbed it into the waste reclaim instead. “Should have just told them we were getting married in a black hole, and they could go fuck themselves.”
“It’s an olive branch. You just happen to be holding the jagged, broken end where someone tore it off the tree,” Amy said. She was proud of Carl for at least trying. It’s not as if Chuck and Becky Ramsey were the easiest people in the world to deal with. Not that Judith Charleton would be any better, but at least her mom was a disoriented sort of harmless. Chuck in particular had teeth.
“Am I that bad?” Carl asked, gesturing to the flat, glossy black panel on the wall of their quarters. “Is it even possible that Chuck Motherfucking Ramsey could pull his head out of his ass long enough to have a civil conversation?”
Amy ran her tongue under her upper lip. “Should I get that gap closed up? I mean, maybe I could—”
“No,” Carl cut her off. “Don’t even start that. Be you. That’s who I’m marrying. Becky’s a bitter old lady who’s drunk more often than sober. She’s leather-souled from being Chuck’s test audience for new material her whole married life. It’s left her with all the tact of a comedian’s B-list material. Maybe even C-list.”
“Even with an auto-braider, corn rows take too long,” Amy continued, running fingers through her hair. The lack of braids was already taking some getting used to. It was like she’d swapped linguine for vermicelli, and the texture was all wrong. She had to admit it was easier to wash now, and soon enough that would take precedence over style and feel.
“Just don’t listen to her,” Carl said. “You try living your life by Becky’s rules, you’ll end up safe and boring, reliving a life from five hundred years ago like paisley upholstered plastisteel. That’s not what I fell in love with.”
Amy cupped a hand to Carl’s cheek. “You may not be as grating as Chuck, but you got your way with words from him. Just stay sweet. Promise me?”
Carl snickered. “You might be the only person in the galaxy who both knows me and trusts me at my word. Yeah. I promise.”
Patting that cheek, she pointed back to the comm panel. “OK. Pep talk over. Time to call Tanny.”
# # #
Carl had gone and bitten his own personal bullets. Now it was Amy’s turn. After finishing up with the comm panel, he’d agreed to leave her the room to herself. The relaxation techniques from the omni had helped calm her nerves, but this was still the call she’d been dreading.
The comm connected, and a kindly face was looking into the screen from too close. “All right, Ms. Charleton. Judith is ready to speak with you.” Off camera, she could hear him speaking to someone outside view. “I’ll be here the whole time. If anything gets you upset, just let me know and we’ll go back to your room.”
A chair was wheeled into the frame, and Amy’s heart fluttered. It was her. Judith was a time-transposed version of Amy. Gray hair and wrinkles were a disguise for Amy’s future self. The cheekbones and nose matched perfectly. Even the eyes, unfocused and wandering, were like looking into a mirror. Those eyes suddenly caught the image appearing on Judith’s side of the comm and snapped into focus.
“Amy?”
Her heart swelled. The dice roll chance of her mother not recognizing her was what thwarted most of Amy’s calls home. It was better not knowing than having that knife twisted in her soul. “Yeah, Mom. It’s me.”
Judith reached up and rested her hand against the screen, blocking most of the image. “Amy? Come out of there, and give me a hug. It’s been weeks since you last visited. I miss you.”
It had been years. Several, in fact. She’d been on shore leave from the navy.
“I’m on a starship right now, Mom,” Amy explained. “A little too far for hugging. But I’m planning on coming to Earth soon.”
Judith narrowed her eyes and leaned in close to the screen. “Have you put on weight? Thought the navy was supposed to keep you fit and fiddling.”
“I’m pregnant, Mom. That’s why I called. I’m getting married.”
There. She’d said it. Now for the fireworks. Amy clenched her jaw and waited.
“Boy or a girl?” Judith asked, totally blowing past the whole extramarital childbearing that she’d harped on all through Amy’s teenage years.
“I’m, we’re having a boy,” Amy said.
But Judith wasn’t having any of it. She brushed a hand in the air. “Marrying a boy or a girl? You never showed much interest either way, so I’ve always wondered.”
“Boy,” Amy said, treading carefully on a conversational path that had suddenly turned to loose gravel beneath her feet. “His name is Carl. I met him in the navy, and we—”
“Navy man, huh? Well, I guess there was alway
s something about men in uniform. Suppose it was inevitable. Don’t need the juicy details over a comm. You can tell me all about how good he is in bed when you come visit. I insist on a full run-down on where my grandchildren are coming from.”
Amy felt the flush warm her cheeks. The orderly who’d helped get her onto the comm was sitting just off camera. He was hearing all this. Since when had she gotten bashful? In her navy days, she told stories raunchier than any that Judith was imagining and in front of the whole squadron. She’d once drawn diagrams using a squirt bottle of mustard to illustrate her exploits, drawing hoots of laughter that hadn’t phased her one bit.
This was the onset of responsibility. This was caring what people thought of you. Also, this was her mom, which was an entirely different brand of embarrassment, practiced since grade school and honed into an art form.
“How about I just introduce you?” Amy offered. “Carl’s nice. You’ll like him. He owns his own planet.”
It was an exaggeration to the extreme, but it was an easy lie with that orderly listening in. He wouldn’t buy the boast for a minute, but he also wouldn’t hear about illicit asteroid laundering and rogue terraformers. Plus, if she ever wanted Judith to like a beau of hers—and despite her claims of ignorance, her mom had met boyfriends of hers before—making sure she knew he was successful was the key.
“Well, isn’t that something special,” Judith said with a warm smile. But her sudden frown held a warning. “But he’d better take good care of my grandson. And you, too, for that matter.” She held up a hand to shield her next words from the orderly. Pointlessly, since she didn’t lower her voice. “Just between you and me, your father was equipped like a fuel rod. I swore he could tickle my tonsils by just—”
“Cody,” Amy broke in, hoping she’d remembered the orderly’s name right. “Can you get my mom to the hotel by 2 PM on Tuesday the 9th?”
Cody leaned into the view. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll make sure she’s got something appropriate to wear for a wedding too.”
“Thanks,” Amy said with a weary smile. “Please just make sure she knows it’s my wedding day.”
# # #