Stopping in the galley he pulled a cup of pseudojo from the VAT and took his cup to the front corner table where he could stare out at the collar.
It never ceased to amaze him how space looked when they were in cruise. The stars in front had vanished into the ultraviolet and the stars behind appeared as a red haze in front as they climbed past the photons that were heading in the same direction they traveled. But off to the side, stars were still visible. They just didn’t look like stars at all. Instead they appeared as a ring of streaks that ran all the way around the ship like a rainbow colored collar. Each streak was a star far off of their flight path, and as they ran through its light, it shifted from ultraviolet at the front, down through the visible spectrum until it disappeared into the infrared behind.
“What causes that?” Kaycee asked as she walked up behind him.
“It’s angular distortion combined with Doppler shift” he said, rolling his eyes and not turning to face her. Ordinarily he would have jumped at the chance to share the science with one of his passengers, but he reminded himself he had no obligation to talk to her at all.
“And what causes the red glow in front of us? Shouldn’t that look blue?”
“Look Kaycee,” he said, twisting in his seat to look in her direction. “If you don’t mind, I’m not in the mood for small talk.”
“Fine,” she said. “Then let’s talk about big things.”
“No,” he said, standing up and leaving his pseudojo on the table as he walked away.
By the middle point of the flight he’d run out of things to do in his quarters. But it seemed like every time he left his room he ran into Kaycee. It was almost like she was watching for him. There wasn’t a good reason for her to be hanging out on the mid-deck. She had a stateroom on the passenger deck. There was even a separate recreation room there to keep her entertained. But somehow, he never managed to get a meal and a chance to carry his food to a table before she was on top of him.
She wanted to talk. He wanted to be left alone. Especially by her. He understood that his decisions had landed him in the trouble he now faced, but it felt like she was to blame. His heart wanted to scream at her. To be mad at her. But his mind knew it was pointless. So instead, every time she walked up to him, or reached out to him, or even looked at him, he emptied out. His soul drained from him and he shut down.
So he sat and stared at the walls because he could only watch so many holovids before his brain melted. Over the course of the three years he’d been running freight for CSL he’d read everything in his library files. In the last twelve days, he’d even entertained the idea of writing his own book, just to break the boredom.
The only thing left for him to do was something he refused to face.
Pack his belongings.
Somewhere inside him that switch refused to turn. A light of hope refused to shut off. He didn’t know how he’d turn it around, but he knew if he accepted the possibility that he’d be leaving the Olympus Dawn, he was done.
His mind told him he needed to sort his possessions to pack, but it always ended with him putting them back where they belonged. He’d just pushed the drawer closed on his dressing cabinet when someone rapped on his door. He didn’t want company.
After the second day when he’d missed eating, Rene had come by once a day around thirdmeal to bring him food and give him a chance to talk if he wanted. He glanced at the small table and the uneaten meal there. It wouldn’t be him.
The visitor rapped again. If he remained silent, maybe whoever it was would go away. After almost a minute the rapping began again, but this time it was more like a fist beating on the door. And it didn’t stop.
“Ethan, I know you’re in there,” Nuko hollered. “Don’t make me override your door lock.” She beat on the door again this time sounding like she intended to kick it in.
“Fine. Enter,” he said, unlocking it but leaving it closed.
She flung it open and stood there looking like she was ready to come in and bodily drag him out. She was wearing a thinskin and had a towel draped over her neck like she’d either just come from the exercise room, or was headed in that direction. “Come on, get dressed. You haven’t had a workout in weeks and it will do you good.”
“It’s not that important anymore,” he said, shrugging and sitting down on the corner of his desk. She had been his workout partner since the day she joined his crew and was his equal physically. She pushed him to try harder since she was almost twenty years younger than him, and a lot meaner.
“Seriously, that wasn’t an invitation you lazy flatch,” she growled. “You need to push some steel around with me. Burn off this frakking shit that’s clogging your brain. Get angry and move metal. It will help.”
“Nuko, I really don’t feel like it,” he said.
“You think it’s sexy to be a quitter?” she came across the room, grabbed him by the front of his coverall, and hauled him to his feet. “I made sure nobody would bother us, and you will come do this. You’ve got to pull your head out or you’re fucked.”
He pried her hand loose and stared at her face trying to read from her expression what set her off. Her face looked angry, but her eyes looked scared.
“Are you alright?”
“No. I’m mad at you,” she said. “The Ethan Walker I know would never give up.”
“I haven’t given up,” he said, even though he knew it felt painfully close to a lie.
She looked at the food still sitting on the table and then around at his computer console. “What have you done since we left Starlight? For frak sake, you aren’t even eating.”
“And you think a workout will make a difference,” he said, shaking his head.
“It can’t hurt,” she said, pushing away from him and walking across the room before she spun back to face him. “If you don’t want to talk we don’t have to, but the endorphins will do you some good. Trade some emotional pain for some physical pain.”
He shook his head. Maybe she’s right.
She crossed her arms and glared in a way that told him she didn’t mean to give up.
“Fine, I’ll change and join you in a few minutes,” he said, almost smiling despite feeling like she was busting his bag.
“I’ll wait,” she said, not moving until he’d gotten into his workout gear and walked out the door. In front of her.
After a week of working out every day, he had to admit that he’d managed to grind up his anger into bite-sized bits and get some of it out of his system. He felt more like his usual self even if he was sore and almost too tired to move after Nuko finished pushing him around the gym.
After the intensity she’d shown in their workouts, he realized that she’d been holding back all along. The gap in their age made a difference in her endurance, and she ended up far less crushed than he did. She was pushing a lot less emotional toxin through her system, too. At least that was as good an excuse as any.
What he hadn’t realized when they started out was that the endorphins also carried away the things that were blocking up his thinking. He was back to waking up in the morning because he wanted to, not because he couldn’t find an excuse to waste more time in bed.
He still didn’t hold much hope that he’d be able to keep the Olympus Dawn, but he knew nothing would stop him from fighting to keep his Shipmaster license. He might be down for a while, but he wouldn’t be grounded forever.
Nuko showed up at her usual time, but when he opened the door, she wasn’t dressed for a workout. She still wore a black thinskin, but she had her hair down. Instead of a towel around her neck and treadsoles on her feet, she was wearing a thin gold necklace and sandals.
She had a tray of food in her hand. Usually they ate after their training session. He raised an eyebrow, but waited for her to explain.
“I figure we needed a day off from our usual workout,” she said, walking in and setting the tray down on the low table in his sitting area. “All workout and no relaxation, makes Ethan a dull boy.” She
grinned slyly and winked.
His eyebrow went up another notch as she sat down on the floor and unloaded two plates and eating tools.
“You do have something to drink here other than VAT crap, don’t you?” she said, looking around at the shelves along his wall. “Maybe something with some real bite?”
“Sure,” he said. “I’m a rum drinker, but you know that already.” He stepped over and grabbed a bottle out of the cabinet where he kept his liquor. Looking at the label he shook his head and put it back. Reaching farther down, he grabbed an older bottle. “What the hell, I’ll play along. I’ve had this around for a long time. Might as well enjoy it now.”
Snagging two glasses he walked over and set them down on the table beside the tray as she uncovered the food. It smelled amazing even if he didn’t recognize it.
“Ocean Scampi,” she said, reading his expression.
“I didn’t know we had fish protein in the synthesizer,” he said as he eased himself down on the floor beside her.
“We didn’t,” she said. “But … we do now.” She shrugged and looked down at the food. Picking up a set of eating sticks, she served up several disks of rather convincing looking shrimp.
“You programmed this yourself?” he asked as he took a bite and gasped in shock. It was the best food he’d eaten. Ever.
“Actually I cooked it from ingredients,” she said. “My grandma taught me to cook, way back. She said it was a lost art.”
“I’d say you found it,” he said. “I didn’t think food could taste like this.”
“Stop it,” she said, laughing. “I didn’t expect to blush until later.”
He paused with a bite halfway to his mouth. She was blushing.
She nodded at the rum. “Are you still saving it or will we be able to have some with dinner?”
He poured two tall glasses full, and they both sipped at it while they ate. Somewhere along the way, they both drank more than they should, but he didn’t care. It felt good to relax and laugh for no reason at all.
“You really are a hero,” she said unexpectedly.
He laughed. “Yah, but this hero is unemployed, at least for now.”
“Heroes are sexy you know,” she said, leaning back on her elbows and stretching like a cat. Or at least what he thought a cat would stretch like.
He didn’t know how to respond so he gulped down the last of his rum and reached to pour another.
“My grandmother was a hero,” she said.
“You’re saying your grandmother is sexy?” he asked, laughing again.
“Well, yeah maybe, but that’s probably why grandpa married her,” she said, dropping flat back on the floor.
Definitely a cat. She stretched her arms over her head and he was sure he felt the temperature change in the room.
“Really?” he asked, trying not to squeak like a mouse. “So she was a sexy hero.”
She nodded and rolled up onto an elbow. “Yah, he was the captain of the Galen at the battle of L-4 Prime. He told me the most heroic thing he ever saw was when she refused to retreat while his crew was forced to abandon ship. She risked everything to stand her ground against the ghost fleet until they hauled in his entire crew.”
“That’s pretty damned heroic,” he said. He was trying not to stare at the dangling bit of her necklace while she told the story. But the damn flashing glint of light kept pulling his eyes back to where they shouldn’t be wandering.
“What you did was like that,” she said.
He snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind if I am ever looking for another ex-wife.”
She laughed, reaching out to put her hand on his leg. It landed several inches too far above his knee to be misunderstood.
“Yah, I’m a mouse.” This time he did squeak.
She looked at him with a curious expression on her face. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long while,” she said. “Since you aren’t my boss anymore, there’s nothing to stop me.”
“You’ve got a point,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning into her.
In a few days, it wouldn’t matter, anyway.
Chapter Twenty-One:
Cochrane Station One orbited Galileo Station in a slow dance of balanced gravity. It didn’t orbit the original station, but rather oscillated in a circular path around the Earth Moon Lagrange One position in a stable halo orbit. CS-1 was one segment of a ring of stations 6oo kilometers in diameter connected by a rigid structure of transportation loop lines and residential nodes. It was part of what was planned to be the largest station the Human Coalition ever built, but for now CS-1 was an extra thick region on a spider web of gossamer thin threads in a perpetual construction project.
Cochrane Space Logistics had headquarters all over explored space and was one of the largest and oldest private interstellar cartels. It was the monster mother of everything that moved anywhere throughout the twenty-eight colonies and eighteen sibling societies and formed the linchpin of the Colonization Wing of the Coalition government.
In the Early Expansion, CSL drove the economic growth out into interstellar space, and now it shaped how all other transportation and colonization companies operated. Even the massive FleetCom held little sway over the monolithic enterprise of the late Dr. Cochrane.
It was no wonder that even though this wasn’t his first trip to CS-1, this time when Ethan Walker stepped through the egress gate onto the station’s main concourse, he felt powerless and insignificant.
He’d said his goodbye to Nuko the night before. Rene had made it as far as the docking stanchion at L-4 transfer before they parted company with a firm handshake and a stiff upper lip. He knew that once the two of them had returned the cargo and Kaycee to Armstrong Station, they’d be requesting new postings. Chances were they’d be on CS-1 to scan the ship boards before his hearings were over, so he expected to see both of them again before they headed off on new assignments.
Only Angel accompanied him all the way to Cochrane Station. She’d volunteered to come with him, since she was the only witness to what had happened on Starlight. He told her she didn’t need to, since she had been in with the kids when it all went foobed, but she insisted.
“A character witness is better than no witness,” she’d said and, although he didn’t know for sure what was coming, he was glad not to face it alone.
She tapped him on the shoulder and nodded at four uniformed security units that were making their way through the crowd in their direction. “Smile, they’re looking at you,” she whispered.
She was right.
“Ethan Walker?” the shortest of the officers said. He was holding a small identification scanner in his hand. The green light blinking on the screen showed that it had already confirmed his identity, so the question was pointless.
He nodded.
“We’re with CSL Station Security, you’re to accompany us to the security block to begin your processing,” he said.
“I’m being bound?” He knew that was a possibility, but he hadn’t expected it after his meeting with MacKenna. His heart stopped and the deck under his feet seemed to collapse. Angel’s hand on his arm was all that kept him from dropping.
“No, sir,” he said. “I’m sorry. You’re not being held. We need to get you processed for temporary residential status. At this point, you are only facing a formal enquiry.”
Relief washed over him and he glanced over his shoulder and tugged his elbow free from her grip.
“That’s a good sign,” she whispered.
“You’re not traveling alone?” one of the other guards asked, apparently noticing Angel for the first time when she spoke. “Will your companion be staying with you?”
He shrugged, and she nodded. “I’m CSL so I’m eligible for a room during a layover aren’t I?”
The officer with the scanner held it up and nodded. “Angelique Wolfe. Yes, of course you are. Your ship is operating in system for the duration of the enquiry so you are more than welcome to stay. Space is short in the handlers’
biv, but if Captain Walker is willing to share his room, we can probably bump you upstairs to the O-decks and get you both into a double occupancy suite while you’re here.”
He shrugged again.
“I think we’ll manage,” she said.
“Then let’s go get you bunked,” the officer said. “Your preliminary starts at 0600 tomorrow morning.” He turned and led the way through the crowd toward the main part of the station. The other three dropped into position to the sides and rear, a point that neither of them missed.
“It’s just a formality,” he said.
She nodded, but looked far less than convinced that it wasn’t something more serious that motivated the overstuffed escort.
It took almost three hours to get him processed and the bureaucracy never missed an opportunity to make the whole process as complex and dehumanizing as possible. The problem was that he, as an officer, could have a guest in his suite, but she as an enlisted crewman on a ship, wasn’t allowed to bunk in the officer section of the station complex. And once they started the processing, it was beyond common sense to just remove her name from the accommodations request and replace it with the word GUEST.
They had to cancel his room and remove him from the residential roster and then wait for shift change and a different intake manager to come in to start the process over. This time they were careful not to mention that Angel was more than a guest. An hour after shift change, and much swearing later, they got to sit down in a room and just breathe for a minute.
It was already past thirdmeal in the officer’s mess and they hadn’t eaten since they’d arrived at the station, so they ended up having to find a dive bar that served something that vaguely resembled food.
Yesterday. Today it was questionable if it had ever been edible.
Although ten minutes into their meal that didn’t seem to matter much to Angel since she seemed determined to drink most of her limit in substances that smelled similar to cleaning solvent.
Echoes of Starlight Page 15