“Interesting. You’ve already made upgrades, haven’t you? None of this is standard-issue eVi code.”
“A few. I like to tinker.”
“You’d make a great Prevo.” The fingertips remained in place, but she sensed the rise of Morgan’s chest against her back as the woman drew in a breath. “This is what you’re trying to do, isn’t it? Become a Prevo without joining with a separate, fully realized Artificial?”
“You caught me. That is the plan. Dr. Canivon has signed off on the overall framework, so I’m double-checking everything before I take the plunge. And getting a few second opinions.”
Morgan’s fingertips drifted off her ports to linger at the base of her neck, and Marlee’s pulse set off to the races.
“I think Stanley’s right. You really are brilliant.”
Marlee oh-so-carefully shifted around so as not to step away and create distance while she turned enough to see Morgan. “I’m thrilled you think so. It matters what you think of me.” Gulp. “A lot.”
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as Morgan smiled in return, and the lab faded away. In a slow-motion sequence worthy of the best romance vids, their faces drew closer.
She leaned in the rest of the way and pressed her lips to Morgan’s. Warm and pliant, in delightful contrast to the woman’s hard persona, and tasting of peppermint and coffee. Heat flooded her chest as her hand snaked up toward the woman’s jaw—
Morgan yanked away from Marlee, scrambling backward until she banged into the workstation, her eyes wide in shock. “What—why did you do that?”
Still basking in the glow of the kiss, Marlee beamed. “Why do you think? I wanted to show you—”
“How could you…why…I thought you were my friend!”
The sharp, pained edge in Morgan’s voice penetrated the heady, fuzzy sensation engulfing her, yanking Marlee back to a reality that might not actually be going the way she’d planned. “I am your friend. I’d also like to be more than a friend.”
Morgan shook her head roughly. “What in the fuck about all of—” she motioned wildly to herself, waving a hand in front of her face “—the shitshow that is me suggests I am in any way whatsoever capable of being anyone’s ‘more than friend’? Goddammit!” She spun and practically ran for the exit, bumping into Devon on his way in as he returned from the storage room.
“Morgan, where are you off to?”
“To find the bottom of a bottle.” Then she was gone.
Marlee flopped unceremoniously into the sim chair, her shoulders sagging and her chin dropping to her chest. All the air had vacated her lungs, and it seemed her limbs, too.
She shouldn’t have leapt off the ledge. It was too soon. She’d known it was too soon. Her mouth was always getting ahead of her brain—literally, this time. But it had felt so perfect, dammit!
After wallowing for a bit longer, she looked up to find Devon watching her with a sympathetic expression. “I did warn you.”
“I know. I seriously thought we’d built a connection. An attraction and….” She dragged herself to her feet, removed the quantum cube from the dock and grabbed her jacket from the table.
“You’re leaving me, too?”
“Yep. I’ll be honest. The bottom of a bottle doesn’t sound too bad right about now.”
64
* * *
SENECA
Cavare
Milky Way Galaxy
Marlee loitered outside the entrance to Hemiska Research Laboratories, making a show of lounging casually against the decorative stone half-wall by the company’s fancy signage.
The evening shadows were growing long, and the outbound flow of people from the building had slowed to a trickle, but she was undeterred. She knew Gregor Feldt well, and he’d be working late. He’d only had this job for two months, so he’d be slaving away trying to impress his boss and coworkers.
Ten minutes later, Gregor finally came striding out the front doors with a knapsack weighing down his left shoulder, likely full of work he was taking home. But he wouldn’t be getting it done tonight, dammit.
She pushed off the wall and gave him a wave to get his attention.
He stopped on the walkway as his gaze fixed on her. Surprise came first, followed by a hint of hesitation. Then a speculative smile.
“Marlee. I haven’t seen you in months.” Since she’d picked a fight to break it off with him one morning on her way out the door, in fact. It hadn’t been her finest moment, though her spectacular flame-out earlier today obviously topped it. “What brings you here?”
“You, of course!” She meandered closer to where he stood. “I’ve been super-busy at the Consulate lately, but I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing. How’s the new job?”
“It’s, um, good. A lot of work school didn’t prepare me for.”
“That’s how it goes, right?”
“Right, though it would’ve been nice if school had warned us. But I’ve got a smart boss and talented…” his expression flickered “…why are you really here? With the way we left things, I frankly didn’t expect to ever see you again. Not on purpose.”
She worked to look contrite—and she was. She’d been cruel to him, even if she hadn’t meant to be at the time. “I’m sorry about all of that. I truly am. You had to follow your dreams and I had to follow mine, but I didn’t need to be a selfish bitch about it. Friends?”
“Sure, I guess. Friends.”
“Wonderful. Listen, do you want to…the thing is, I came across a bottle of Balvenie single malt scotch in one of the quirky shops on HQ the other day and picked it up. I remember how much you enjoy the brand. It’s…” she met and held his gaze, meaningfully “…at my apartment.”
“Oh.” His Adam’s Apple bobbed; he glanced down at his knapsack, then back up at her with a new light in his eyes, one she recalled all too well. “I have this important report I need to get done for work, but it’s not due for two more days. I guess I can…yeah. I’d like to have some of that Balvenie. Do you want to get a bite to eat first?”
A corner of her mouth curled up, and she shook her head. “No.”
Silvery light from Seneca’s giant moon reflected off the open-but-mostly-full bottle of scotch situated on the floor by the bed. Marlee leaned half off the mattress to grab it, then sat up and scooted back with it in hand. She took a long swig before offering it to Gregor.
He chuckled. “You know this is supposed to be consumed out of an inverted-funnel hand-blown crystal glass filled precisely to the one-third level.” He turned the bottle up and matched her swig before handing it back to her.
She set it on the bedside table and rolled onto her side to prop up on an elbow and face him. “The Novoloume have a drink called alonsa’dior. They only consume it through a three-meter-long looping tube with special filters situated in every loop.”
“They do everything with overwrought formality, don’t they?”
“Pretty much. I mean, they’re not that bad about it. Well, sometimes they are.”
He reached out to dance his fingertips along the curve of her waist and over her hip, until it hovered on the verge of tickling. “You’re happy at your job?”
“Oh, my, what a complicated question. I am simultaneously suffocating under the weight of the bureaucracy and paperwork requirements while also delighting in how I’ve gotten to help so many aliens and see such incredible wonders. In the last several months, I’ve gotten arrested and locked in a swamp jail, knocked unconscious by a rampaging alien mech, and trapped underground during a Rasu invasion. But I’ve also helped to rescue two entire species from certain death.”
“Sounds about par for the course for you.” He leaned in and kissed her softly. He’d always been a terrific kisser, and her enjoyment of it was only slightly marred by the resurgent memory of a kiss gone wrong. “Listen, my company is having a holiday party this weekend. It’ll be kind of stuffy, but if you want to come, you can meet some of my coworkers. A few of them are even burgeoning friends.”
“Oh.” She subtly scooted a few centimeters away. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I’ve got a work obligation with the Godjan refugees—they’re one of the species I helped to save.”
A frown grew on his features. “I didn’t say which weekend day it was.”
“My work obligation is going to take all weekend. Actually, weekends aren’t technically a thing at HQ. Everyone gets three out of nine days off—”
“Not the point, Marlee.” His chin dropped to his chest. “So this was just a random hookup, then?”
Her lips parted, but there was no gracious way to answer him, whether truth or lie.
He huffed a breath. “I see.” The next second he was crawling off the bed and snatching his pants off the floor. “I am such an idiot.”
“Gregor….”
“What? What is it you think you’re going to say? Something to get me to linger long enough for a second round, maybe?”
Her eyebrows arched hopefully before she was able to stop them, which was the exact wrong sentiment to display.
“You really are unbelievable. No. I need to go home, sober up, and work on my report. Oh, and I’m taking the rest of the bottle with me.” He pulled his shirt over his head and came around to her side of the bed, where he capped the scotch and tossed it in his knapsack.
“Okay. I want you to have it.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I want good things for you, Gregor. I want you to be happy.”
His hostile posture softened a little. “I believe you, though I’m not sure why. Even so, the next time you’re horny or lonely, or both, comm someone else. And I know there are plenty of someone else’s for you to choose from.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. I never cheated on you.”
“I know you didn’t. You’re a serial monogamist—you get bored, you move on.” He checked around the floor to confirm he hadn’t left anything, then stared at her with a soulfulness that used to slay her. “Listen, Marlee. I think you have a good heart, I genuinely do. But sometimes you’re like a wrecking ball, crashing through the lives of everyone in your orbit in your fervent rush to…I honestly don’t know what. Conquer the universe or something.”
Ouch. His words stung, and defensiveness flared; how could it not? “Maybe I once was, but I’ve grown up a lot. I’ve learned so much about myself and the world these last few months.”
“Yet here I am, walking away from you again. Or being thrown out. It’s not any clearer this time than it was the last one.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I had a great time tonight.” He nodded sharply, as if to himself. “Goodbye, Marlee.”
Then he turned, strode through the door and was gone. Too damn much like Morgan had done.
She flopped back on the bed with a dramatic sigh. What, exactly, had this accomplished, other than a few hours of fun and pleasure? She was alone again, just her and her wrecking ball self. She’d still screwed things up with Morgan, and upset the woman badly on top of it. And she still had no idea how to fix any of it.
Abruptly, she sat upright as dramatically as she’d crashed down. The one thing she retained absolute control over—the one thing she alone could fix—was herself.
The operating code was ready. She could tinker at the margins for the next decade, or she could bite the bullet and take the leap into the unknown. That, at least, she was quite skilled at doing.
Without hyper-analyzing everything any further, she made an appointment for later today at her cybernetics clinic of choice for the first round of implants and injections. Also for a neural imprint backup, in case this little ‘eVi enhancement’ took a wrecking ball to her brain.
Time to get on with it.
65
* * *
THE PRESIDIO
Morgan’s head pounded against her skull as she warily picked her way through the hallways of the Presidio. Well, it didn’t literally pound, since the alcohol flushing routines had cleaned up most of the hangover symptoms by the time she’d departed her temporary apartment in Cavare. But the brutal memory of the head pounding she’d suffered through on waking up this morning was sufficiently close to the real experience to be a bother.
You just admitted the sensation is ‘all in your head.’ Why don’t you banish it with a thought?
Stanley, how is it that you’ve been here for more than sixteen years and have yet to learn the first thing about human psychology?
Strenuous effort and constant vigilance.
She stifled a chuckle. At least one of them had developed a sense of humor. The levity was quickly buried, however, beneath a resurgence of such nasty emotions as dismay, confusion, betrayal and a touch of sorrow.
She liked Marlee; it had been…pleasant…to enjoy the beginnings of a friendship again. And dammit but it hurt to have such pleasantness ripped away from her. To have the benefits of their budding relationship stolen by Marlee flagrantly overstepping the explicit bounds of what was, by definition, ‘friendship.’
Hadn’t she?
I say this with the gentlest, most sympathetic of voices, but the kiss was nice, wasn’t it?
Of course the kiss was nice. That’s not the point! Done right, all kisses are nice, but they have nothing to do with relationships—what they are, what they should be, how to thoroughly trash them.
I see. Stanley’s tone made it clear he did not remotely see.
She dodged a colonel barreling down the hall toward some emergency. She imagined the Presidio was on perpetual high alert these days, seeing as the Rasu were playing peek-a-boo with Concord and making like thieves in the night with their ships and assets.
Beneath the stinging hurt and wounded pride, she found she wasn’t really angry at Marlee. The woman was young, bright beyond her years and effervescent. Also cocky and naively confident that the universe owed her magnificent things. And to be fair, Marlee wasn’t wrong on that point. But Morgan couldn’t be one of those things. For one, she hadn’t been magnificent in a long time. For another…she just couldn’t be.
Ugh. She forcibly put away the torturous ruminations as she exited the lift on the top floor of the station. Her ancient commission had gotten her through the security checkpoints up until now, but for the final gauntlet, she was subjected to a retinal and superficial DNA scan, as well as an interrogation on her purpose and intentions today.
She glared at the security lieutenant. “I made an appointment. The Fleet Admiral accepted it. What more of a purpose do I need?”
“You’re not active duty. What do you need to see the Fleet Admiral regarding?”
“I believe it’s none of your business. I bet he agrees.”
The lieutenant scowled and grumbled, but he gruffly waved her on. “Through the doors straight ahead, then take the first left. No deviations.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She scratched at her forehead once she was through the gate.
Pound, pound, pound.
Stanley was right; this was a psychological tic, and one that she needed to banish immediately. Perhaps if she was successful in her mission this morning.
After around ninety seconds of waiting in the lobby, a secretary showed her into the Fleet Admiral’s office. Malcolm Jenner looked up from a screen to jerk a nod as she entered. They’d known each other for too long and shouted through too many disagreements to bother with formalities, she supposed.
“Morgan, welcome. I admit I was surprised to receive your request for a meeting.”
“Me, too.” She plopped in one of the chairs opposite his desk and dropped her elbows to her knees. “So you fucked it up, huh?”
He gave her a pained grimace. “I prefer to believe the jury is still out.”
“You didn’t hear it from me, but you’re not wrong. Good luck.” It was a downright magnanimous gesture on her part, she thought.
Malcolm’s expression buoyed, but he hurriedly schooled it again. “I assume you’re not here to dispense unsolicited relationship advice. What can I d
o for you?”
“You can get me back in a fighter.”
“Excuse me?”
“A fighter. A small, agile warship that shoots bad guys for a living, with and sometimes without the aid of a human pilot.”
“I know what—are you asking to have your commission reinstated?”
“I suppose it will be a necessary first step, but I don’t care about the paperwork. These last few weeks, I’ve been helping Devon test out new warship tech over at Concord Special Projects, and the one thing I’ve learned from the experience is that I hate labs. I need the real thing. I’m ready to shoot some Rasu.”
“We would welcome the added gun. I recall you were rather talented at shooting things.”
“I wasn’t talented. I was the best the multiverse has ever seen.”
“Quite possibly. But this is the military. I can’t simply wave my hands in the general direction of a bureaucrat and get you reinstated to a combat squadron overnight.” He rubbed at his chin. “Though there are a couple of Concord specialty attack squadrons you could—”
“No.”
“But you’re already working with Special Projects. From there it’s but a few short steps to combat duty. And I suspect Devon Reynolds can simply wave his hands in the general direction of a bureaucrat and get you in a ship.”
“I said no.”
Malcolm grimaced…then realization seemed to dawn. “This is about what happened during the Ch’mshak Revolt, isn’t it?”
“Damn straight it’s about what happened during the Ch’mshak Revolt.”
“You blame Miriam Solovy for Harper’s death.”
“Don’t you?”
He sighed. “No. I blame the cruel vagaries of combat operations. Soldiers risk their lives every time they go into battle, and sometimes who lives and who dies is nothing but a roll of the cosmic dice.”
“It definitely isn’t skill, because—anyway, Miriam never should have sent Brook’s squad into that Ch’mshak nest. Not without a great deal more intel and a workable extraction plan.”
All Our Tomorrows Page 36