“There have been rumors.” Picariello checked the clock. “In any case, it’s late. Go get some rest, Lieutenant.”
“Take tomorrow off,” Al-Banna added.
“No, sir.” Jodenny stood, her legs like rubber. “I’ll be fine.”
Picariello motioned for a guard. “Escort Lieutenant Scott back to her cabin.”
She went, and all the way back she saw only Nitta’s wide, unseeing eyes, like so many of the dead on the Yangtze.
* * *
That same night, over at Minutiae, Myell and Eva ate steamers culled from the ship’s artificial seabeds and mushrooms drizzled with tofu cheese. Eva had a glass of wine. Myell kept a clear head. Small talk consisted of comments about their work, shipmates, berthing, and hobbies. Eva didn’t like her job much and disliked her roommate, who brought strange men home unexpectedly. Myell allowed that he wasn’t sure about his new job but had a great roommate.
Eva squeezed his hand. “You’re lucky.”
The conversation stayed casual. Myell wasn’t brave enough to attempt anything that would require more than pleasant nods or exclamations of agreement—topics such as How I Adore My Division Officer, or How the Last Girl I Dated Cried Rape. When the bill came, they split it fifty-fifty and strolled down the Rocks to an ice cream shop. She ordered chocolate chip on a sugar cone. He opted for butter pecan in a cup. If she noticed that they were being surreptitiously trailed by Gallivan, she didn’t mention it. A full moon had been grammed onto the dome above, and as they drew closer to the main gazebo they heard snazzy tunes from a swing band. Couples spun and dipped in the plaza.
“Do you dance?” she asked.
“No.”
“Will you try?”
He would try, even though dancing reminded him of the school dances back on Baiame. The pretty girls had always flocked to Colby, the weak ones to Daris. Eva tugged him into the crowd, arranged his arm around her waist, and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Move forward, back, side. Forward, back, side. You’ve got it, Terry.”
Her breasts pressed against his chest. Myell tried to relax but he suspected that he looked as awkward as he felt. Gallivan was probably laughing his ass off.
“Maybe we should get more ice cream,” he said.
Eva kissed his cheek. “Not now. I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”
He tried to let the music carry him, but was entirely too aware of her warmth and closeness. Myell tried thinking about Jodenny and her betrayal of their pact by talking to Ng, but the clamminess in his hands and tightness in his chest kept him firmly rooted in the off-balance present. If Eva noticed his anxiety, she chose not to comment on it. Her smile stayed wide, and when his steps faltered her guidance kept them going.
“My ribs are starting to hurt,” he said. “Let me take you home.”
He walked her back to Admin berthing, where the lights had been turned down in the lounge and couples snuggled on the sofas. Eva put her hand on Myell’s arm. “My roommate’s on duty. Want to come in?”
“Never on a first date.”
“Don’t you believe in seizing the moment?”
“I believe the best things are worth waiting for,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek.
Gallivan caught up to him in the lift. “Why didn’t you take her to bed?”
Myell cuffed him. “Two words. Wendy Ford.”
“You don’t think—” Gallivan didn’t finish his words. “You did think.”
That Chiba might have sent Eva to find out what he knew or suspected? Of course he had. “And I made sure no false accusations could be made,” he added, holding up the pocket server.
“You recorded everything?” Gallivan asked. At Myell’s nod he said, “Smart bucko.”
They returned to Supply berthing. The minute they stepped off the lift Myell sensed something wrong. Far too many people were clustered in the lounge and passageway, their faces showing shock or satisfaction.
“It’s Nitta,” VanAmsal said grimly. “He’s dead.”
“Lieutenant Scott found him,” Amador said.
Lange snickered. “Maybe they were together. Maybe she was fucking him.”
Myell punched him in the face. Lange went sailing backward over the sofa. Gallivan and Amador dragged Myell to his and Timrin’s cabin and sat on him until some semblance of reason returned.
“Got your Irish up, did he?” Gallivan asked.
Timrin pulled a bottle of whiskey from his locker. “Give him a belt of this.”
Myell threw back a shot. “What did he die of?”
“Looks like Sweet,” Timrin said. “Message boards say he tested positive this morning, but you know how reliable they are. I never figured him for it.”
Myell drank some more of the whiskey. He’d heard occasional rumors about Nitta, but nothing worth paying attention to. His gaze fell on Koo’s terrarium. The rocks were bare, and her favorite corner was empty. He lifted the lid and peered inside, dread mixing with the alcohol to make his stomach churn.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“Where’s who?” Gallivan asked, bewildered.
Myell moved around the rocks and plants. “Koo. Where did she go?”
He lifted blankets, shook out boots, and even searched through desk drawers, but Koo was nowhere to be found. Timrin and Gallivan both tried to assure him she’d turn up, but he imagined her somehow tangled up in the morning laundry and gone down the chute. Or maybe Chiba had broken in and caused her harm—
“Wherever she is, she’s fine,” Timrin said.
In the morning Lange muttered an apology, but Myell barely acknowledged it. The mood at quarters was grim and Jodenny was pale as she addressed the division.
“As you know, Chief Nitta passed away during the night,” she said. “His death is a great loss to the department and to the ship. There will be a memorial service this afternoon in Hangar Bay 3. Uniform is service dress with medals. I expect you all to be there. Underway Stores, dismissed.”
Myell and Caldicot trammed over to the office, but Jodenny didn’t. Caldicot was off running errands when she finally returned. Myell brought her a large cup of coffee.
“Thank you,” she said, standing by the wallvid and looking at the inky blackness of the Alcheringa.
“Did you get any sleep at all?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ve seen one dying sailor, you’ve seen them all, right?”
Myell closed the hatch. Jodenny covered her face with both hands and said, through tears, “Damn it, I didn’t even like him.”
“No one did,” Myell said.
Her shoulders shook. He couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Myell put his arms around her and rubbed a small circle of comfort on her back as she cried against his shoulder. He asked, “Should I call someone? Commander Vu?”
“No,” Jodenny sniffed. She pulled away. “I’m fine.”
“Jodenny,” he said, and it was the first time he’d ever used her given name.
She reached for a tissue. “I just need to be alone for a few minutes. Off with you before Caldicot starts wondering.”
Myell went, leaving her alone, cursing himself as a coward for doing so.
* * *
The memorial service was held in the ship’s auditorium. The chiefs’ mess made an impressive turnout, with rank after rank at parade rest for the entire ceremony. Underway Stores showed up, more or less, and most of Maintenance. Even Osherman was there.
“Sit with me, Lieutenant,” he said.
“No.”
“Stop being a stubborn pain in the ass and just sit,” he said.
Though Jodenny hated to admit it, there was some comfort in having him by her side. She shifted in her chair, sensing accusing stares leveled at the back of her head. But what had she done? Nitta had been the one trespassing in officers’ country. Nitta had been the one who threatened her.
Master Chief DiSola began the eulogy. “I first met Hiroji back in Supply School…”
J
odenny told herself she wasn’t going to cry. She already regretted breaking down on Myell’s shoulder. What kind of leadership was that? Nitta’s death was hitting her so hard only because of the Yangtze, she decided. At the reception afterward, people expressed their condolences to Jodenny as though she’d lost someone important, and she resented them for it. Half the people offering sympathy about Nitta hadn’t even liked him. The Aral Sea was a ship full of hypocrites, and she herself was probably the biggest of them all.
Quenger and Chiba were at the reception, of course, as was Myell. Jodenny watched them circle the room but never approach each other.
Later that night Holland told her, “Sick Berth has released the autopsy report on Chief Nitta, Lieutenant. He officially died of an overdose of Sweet.”
Jodenny blamed herself for not seeing the symptoms. But if he had been cruising on a Sweet high when she saw him, maybe the nonsense about enemies and hurting her had been just that, nonsense. After all, Picariello and Al-Banna had both told her that it was nothing but the ravings of chemicals and hallucinations.
A comforting thought.
She didn’t believe it for a moment.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“You’ve got a crush on Lieutenant Scott,” Gallivan said to Myell at breakfast, half an hour before quarters, as they sat in a corner booth on the mess decks. On the overvids, Hal and Sal showed excerpts from Chief Nitta’s memorial service. His autopsy results were already the subject of rumor and gossip on the ship’s message boards.
Myell stared at his gib. “You’re wrong.”
Gallivan snatched one of Myell’s pieces of toast. “Punching Lange in front of a dozen witnesses cemented the rumors.”
“What rumors?”
“What do you think, that we’re all daft? Saw her sitting with Commander Osherman during the memorial service, though. Heard they were an item on the Yangtze.”
Myell peered over the top of the gib. “Do you want me to punch you?”
“Certainly not,” Gallivan said. “I’m just saying nothing good can come of it.”
“Shut up, Mike.”
Gallivan managed to stay quiet for only a moment. “Did you find your lizard yet?”
“No.” Myell knew it was absurd to grieve over a missing gecko, but he felt sick just the same. “Tell me, what part of ‘shut up’ don’t you understand?”
“You going to eat those hash browns?”
“Have them.” Myell pushed his plate away. He’d lost his appetite.
* * *
For the first time since taking over Underway Stores, Jodenny rushed through quarters. All she wanted to do was get back to her office, turn off her gib, and shut off all the lights. Otherwise, just one more sympathetic comment or imail about Nitta’s death would make her start screaming. She hurried out of T6 as soon as possible, made it back to the office before Myell or Caldicot, and was settling into her plan for total retreat when the comm pinged. She only answered it because Ng’s caller identification flashed on the screen.
He said, “I’m sorry about your chief, but still angry with you for wasting my time.”
“Wasting your time? What do you mean?”
Ng told her about his conversation with Myell, and how he’d left the soil analysis from her boots—nothing surprising in it at all—with him. Once Myell and Caldicot were back from T6 and working at their desks, Jodenny emerged from her office with a stack of folders. Myell was on a call that sounded personal.
“I’ll talk to you later,” he murmured. A pause. “Okay, lunch.” He hung up.
Jodenny handed the folders to Caldicot. “Take these to Lieutenant Commander Vu. Right now, please.”
When they were alone, Jodenny asked, “Is there something you forgot to give me, Sergeant?”
Myell went to a filing cabinet and began sorting through paperwork. “Such as?”
“Something from Dr. Ng?”
“The same Dr. Ng you confided in? About that thing we agreed to keep quiet?”
Jodenny wanted to grab the papers out of his hands and throw them into the air. “I only told him what I had to.”
“Did you tell Commander Osherman, too?”
Jodenny glared at him. “What? Why would I?”
“I saw you with him at the memorial service. You two have a history.”
“My history, Sergeant, is none of your concern. Do I ask you who you’re going to lunch with? Who you’re whispering with on the comm?”
As Myell opened his mouth to retort Faddig emerged from his office wearing a baffled expression. “These F-189s—” he started to say, but stopped. “Everything all right here?”
“The lieutenant and I are having a disagreement,” Myell said.
Faddig perked up. “About what?”
“Inventory,” Jodenny snapped. “Step into my office, Sergeant.”
Behind closed doors Jodenny said, “I don’t have to ask you—” and at the same time Myell said, “You don’t get to decide—” and a part of her observed how close they were to each other, how dangerously close. She could even smell the faint trace of soap on his skin. The comm pinged.
Jodenny hit the speaker button. “What is it?”
“Watch your tone, Lieutenant,” Al-Banna said.
She was immensely glad they were on audio only. “Sorry, sir.”
“Just so you know, the glitches in Core have been repaired. You’re authorized to start sending people into the slots again.”
“They fixed all the errors?” Jodenny asked.
“You don’t trust the Data Department?”
“We’re talking about people’s lives, sir.”
“I know what we’re talking about.” Al-Banna terminated the call.
Jodenny sat at her desk. As much as she wanted to throttle him for talking to Ng, fighting with Myell made her feel sick. By excluding him from Ng’s theories she was treating him as poorly as Nitta and the others had. But she wasn’t quite ready to admit it.
“Call Amador,” she said, “and tell him I’ll be over there at fourteen hundred to pull Athena out.”
A little too sharply Myell asked, “You?”
“Yes, me.” Jodenny’s anger began to rise again. “I won’t send anyone in until I’m confident the problems are cleared up.”
“I’ll go in. I’ve got the most experience.”
“No one’s going into the slots until I do, and that’s an order.”
Myell threw up his hands. “Do you know how stubborn you are?”
“Not half as stubborn as you!”
They didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the morning.
* * *
Myell waited until Jodenny was off to a meeting and Caldicot at lunch before he used Faddig’s agent to read the Data Department’s report on the glitches in Core. Then he got Dicensu to cover the office and went up to C-Deck to track down Ensign Cartik, who was listed as one of the report’s authors. Cartik, who worked in one of a dozen small cubicles, was surprised to meet him.
“Not everyone who gets flattened by a dingo lives to tell the tale,” he said, clearing a chair for Myell.
“How many people get flattened by dingoes, sir?”
“You’re the only one on this ship. There was an accident on the Oceania a year or so ago, though.”
Myell hadn’t researched the problem on other ships. “Same glitches?”
Cartik squinted at him. “What’s your interest in it all?”
“Purely personal, sir. Lieutenant Scott said I should follow up on anything that I didn’t understand.”
Well, maybe she hadn’t said it in so many words. But the mention of Jodenny’s name seemed to assure Cartik. He tapped on his deskgib. “The Class III on the Oceania did ignore a lockdown order, but it was corrupt all the way through its registry. The Oceania pulled all their Class IIIs and inspected them. No other unit had the same problem.”
“But we didn’t pull all of ours, did we?”
“No.” Cartik looked uncomfortable. “They
decided not to.”
“Who decided not to, sir?”
Cartik shut down his screen. “I don’t have that information.”
“One more question, sir. I noticed Circe had no record of the collision with me. Are we sure she was the one who did it?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Cartik said.
“How do we know it wasn’t another dingo on that level?”
Cartik’s gaze went over Myell’s shoulder. “Sergeant,” Commander Osherman said. Myell wondered how long he’d been standing there. Osherman continued. “Good to see you’ve recovered from your accident.”
Myell stood. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“The sergeant was just on his way back to Underway Stores,” Cartik said.
Actually, Myell was on his way to T6. If he timed it right, he could be in the slots before Jodenny arrived. He would try again to talk her out of it. But when he reached the tower, Jodenny was already up in the observation module getting into the EV suit. Amador was manning the command module.
“She won’t listen to me,” Amador told Myell. “Stubborn as hell.”
Ysten arrived. “She’s really going in?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes, sir,” Myell said.
Ysten edged out Myell for one of the command chairs. “Where is she?”
“About to come down,” Amador said. A few moments later, Jodenny powered by the command module windows. She gave them all a brief wave. Myell’s stomach knotted. He tracked her progress on the overvid.
“I’m entering level twelve now,” Jodenny said.
Although he would have traded places with her, Myell was suddenly glad not to be in those dark, narrow confines. He double-checked that the level was locked down and verified all traffic had stopped.
“Athena should be halfway between Mike and November blocks,” Amador said. “Should take you about ten minutes to get there.”
“I know.” Jodenny sounded amused. “I’ve been in the slots before.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Amador said.
“One of the ensigns on my last ship got lost in them once,” she offered. “Blew his headlamp and got turned all around. It would have been kind of funny if he hadn’t been so petrified.”
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