by Max Jager
"Not really. My gear is toast, my implants need recalibration, and I honestly have no idea where I'm going. I'll need some time to get my plans together."
He could already see Madeira was excited about the prospect. But she held back, maybe trying not to sound too eager. Jameson was just glad to have something to do for her after everything she had done for him. He knew she liked going into space. It was one of her favorite jabber topics.
"Let's do it," she finally said, a broad grin spread out across her face.
The early afternoon was gorgeous on the walk to the landing pad. Jameson almost felt bad leaving Furrow, but reminded himself they would soon be back. Suddenly losing Axus's trail wasn't the end of the world.
But it would be the end of Gibraltar if Jameson didn't eventually find him.
They arrived just as the skiff was touching down on one of the unoccupied pads. A few expensive shuttles and private skiffs stood silently about them, no doubt from wealthy visitors dropping down from the orbital resorts to visit the sea. By contrast, Jameson's skiff looked like a hodgepodge of hull plates and patchwork. Which it was. In the Expanse, its appearance fit right in; here in Gibraltar space, it looked out of place.
Jameson blinked as Madeira wandered up to the pilot terminals, nodding to herself as she identified various controls.
"You've done this before?" he asked off handed, strapping himself in.
"I always made a point to sit near the pilot whenever we went into orbit," she replied. She didn't even have to ask how to manipulate her own straps. "I like to know how it works."
Jameson filed that away for future use.
Although cobbled together, the skiff rose into the atmosphere smoothly, gliding without a single bump of turbulence. Jameson watched out of the corner of his eye as Madeira leaned forward in her seat, watching the endless blue skies fade gently into starry night.
She sighed quietly to herself, awestruck.
A few minutes later, Aquarius shrinking behind them, Crimson Night faded out of the void, its running lights illuminating its hull outline. The worn and faded plating from centuries of use gave it a rusted, red tinge that seemed appropriate for its name.
"Big ship for just one person," Madeira commented as they pulled into the skiff's docking slot.
"The Fleet gave it to me as a parting gift," Jameson commented, unstrapping himself. "It suits my needs."
"You don't get lonely in there?"
Jameson hesitated on the airlock. "I've got Grade and Mathison," he finally said aloud.
They proceeded inside.
Grade was waiting for them, prancing quickly down the corridor to greet Jameson with several whimpers and moans of joy. Jameson crouched low, scooping up the German shepherd in a comforting hug.
"Someone was missed," Madeira replied, cheerfully reaching out to scratch Grade's ears.
Grade didn't react too startled by Madeira's appearance, instead focusing on his long lost master. Even though it had been only a couple of weeks at the most, Jameson knew it was the longest he had gone without seeing Grade. The poor animal followed them everywhere as they continued into the ship.
Jameson subdued a chuckle as he watched Madeira's footsteps kick her into the air, several times losing traction with the artificial gravity. Regardless of how often planetsiders went into space, it was a natural habit. They walked as if they were still on the ground, where gravity would reach out to pull them back no matter how high they swung their feet with each step. It took years of living on artificial gravity or having grown up in space to get used to walking in a manner that was equivalent to dragging your feet. It was the only way to keep in contact with the clinger energy fields that surged through the floor, pulling things down.
Despite Madeira's obvious planetside heritage, she seemed to have little trouble. Her previous expeditions into space had trained some muscle memory, and although her steps were obvious, she never went soaring into the middle of the corridors.
Jameson gave her a brief tour, showing off the workshop that doubled as his cybernetics lab when he needed to operate on himself. He set most of his equipment into their modular compartments, Mathison activating the repair functions. Once the automated system had done all it could, Jameson would tweak each component individually. He would have to stay overnight for the system to get his cybernetics fully operational again, but that could wait for the moment.
From there they wandered past his gymnasium, the medical bay, the galley and recreational suite, and then onto the bridge.
Madeira hesitated in the doorway, breathing in the scene around her. Her eyes were naturally drawn to the large holographic projector in the center, displaying a graphic illustration of the Aquarius system. Beyond that was the panoramic view screen that was currently set to the exterior cameras on the Crimson. Aquarius dominated the center of the screen as a bright turquoise orb that she could almost reach out and hold in her arms.
Jameson walked back beside her, folding his arms as he took in the view with her.
"The views never get old," he remarked, filling the silence.
"I don't doubt it," she whispered, her voice as awestruck as when they first left the atmosphere. "And you get to see this everywhere you go, on hundreds of different worlds across hundreds of different star systems." She shook her head, her face flush with emotion. "You have no idea how much I envy you."
Jameson watched her expression, those pastel blue eyes of her drinking in every detail of the scenery before her. Had she uttered those words two weeks ago, Jameson couldn't have imagined why she would ever envy his position. But now he was beginning to see things a little differently. He could see exactly why she was so wanting of it all.
With his ship, by himself and with no restraints, Jameson had a whole galaxy out there to explore and visit at his leisure. Forgetting for a moment the cold vengeance that took him to each world, he really had seen some of the most gorgeous sights the universe had to offer.
It was shame it had been wasted all this time on his hyper focus to bring people like Axus to justice.
Madeira turned to face him properly, a tear streaming down her cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered, pulling him into a hug, "for bringing me out here."
Jameson returned it. Thank you, he didn't say aloud. Thank you for helping me to see the beauty again.
Evaluations
Chapter 17
Evaluations
* * *
Gibraltar space
Aquarius Star System, Planet Aquarius
Planetside Raft City Furrow
* * *
Jameson lowered his polarized sunglasses, letting the natural sunlight illuminate the interior of his faceplate.
From the roof patio atop Sergio's apartment and shop, he could hear faint bustling from the locals in this particular district of Furrow, going about their early afternoon business. In the distance, further across the Raft City, he could hear crowds of tourists in the main districts, resort hotels, and artificial beaches making all kinds of noise.
Madeira had explained that it was the peak season for summer weather in this hemisphere of Aquarius. It was also the high point of tourism, which meant the crowds would be thick in the more popular districts of Furrow. Jameson could only imagine how swamped Christmas Tree Resort Station was right about now. It had seemed so quiet and empty nearly three weeks ago when he first arrived.
At least the tourists were all gathered on the other side of Furrow. Jameson had only the distant roar of their combined jabbering to hint at the pandemonium of their activities.
By contrast, his place on Sergio's roof patio was calm and quiet, the perfect place to tinker with the new repairs on his faceplate. Somewhere below, Madeira was working with Sergio on a few of his other gear and equipment.
Jameson hadn't realized it at the time, but Madeira had some mechanical and technical skills under her belt. It had surprised him when he saw her working away on one of his wrist screens. He had assumed since she brou
ght them to Furrow specifically for Sergio's help that she had next to no knowledge on how to fix it herself. He had since learned that she had tried, but lacked the power supply system that Sergio had ordered to get any of it working.
That was another skill of hers he filed away for future reference.
Jameson wasn't sure why he was keeping track of these things. Her previous experience in space; operating in zero-g environments; rudimentary skills in mechanical and technical repairs. Even some basic medical knowledge.
Part of him was a little worried about this obsession. Why did he keep taking note of these skills, evaluating them and considering their use? It surely couldn't because he was thinking about putting them to work. No. Impossible.
But another part of him kept filing them away and making special note of them.
In the meantime, Madeira had gladly opted to stay in Furrow for a little longer, not only helping Sergio from time to time with modifying his gear, but continuing to help him with his physical therapy.
That was part of the reason he had returned to Furrow. While he had a fully automated medical suite aboard the Crimson, it was best to heal planetside after a particularly strenuous set of injuries. The human body responded better to natural gravity, regardless of how well the clingers imitated it aboard spacecraft and habitats. Mathison was always getting on him about it, too, following a dicey bounty left him cut up.
After losing again to Axus, Jameson wasn't taking any chances. He needed to be at peak health for their next encounter.
That was how he learned the true extent of Madeira's medical knowledge. Jameson had been unconscious for most of her initial treatments after rescuing him from drowning, so he hadn't seen firsthand the amount of effort she put into stabilizing him. Now that he was rebooting most of his implants and exercising them with his weak muscles, she was there beside him every step of the way. True, she monitored most of it from a handheld screen wirelessly synced to his implants, but she knew what she was reading. Knew when he wasn't pushing himself as hard as he should, and knew when he needed to cool down before he was pushing himself too hard.
Of all the people in all of the galaxy to be there when he fell into the ocean to die.
There was another side to his recuperation on Furrow that Jameson enjoyed. When he wasn't enjoying natural sunlight to work on his gear or spending time in Aquarius' gravity well to strengthen his body, he found a lot of his time was spent simply chatting with Madeira. There was always some down time between work and physical therapy, and Madeira monopolized that time to talk Jameson's ear off.
"You must be older than you look," she said on one such occasion.
"Oh?"
"You said you were in line to become the Fleet Commander of the whole damn Fleet. They don't just give that position to kids."
Jameson grinned. "What if I told you that nearly every officer aboard our Station was barely graduated freshman from the Columbia Military Academy?"
Madeira blinked, adding the math up in her head. "No…"
Jameson nodded.
"No… You can't tell me most of you were barely nineteen!"
"There were a few stationed there since Fleet construction began, as well as most of the Intelligence staff, but yes; most of us were nineteen."
Madeira shook her head, disbelieving. "Impossible. The military would never assign teenagers to plan for galactic war. Turn them into Commanders of warships!"
"They did. And before me or any of my friends were twenty years old, we had devised the greatest battle strategy to conquer Draconian. If they ever threatened all out war, of course."
Madeira rolled her eyes, still not convinced. Then she paused, thinking something else over. "Wait. You said you arrived at the Station nearly seven years ago?"
Jameson nodded.
"Then…that means you're only twenty-five?"
"Almost twenty-six, but yes."
Madeira blinked. "We're the freakin' same age."
That gave Jameson pause as well. He unconsciously looked her over, sizing up her body and features. He had always assumed she was much younger. Maybe in her late teens; maybe even twenty, but never his same age.
Madeira seemed to realize what he was doing. "Like what you see?" she quipped sarcastically.
Jameson shook his head. "I thought you were younger…"
"And I thought you were older. I still don't get how the military decided to put you and your friends in charge of a fleet."
Jameson tried explaining how his friends had all scored the highest marks on government issued psychometric tests. They were certified geniuses. But in truth, Jameson still couldn't get over the fact that the person taking care of him wasn't the little girl he had assumed her to be.
She could have been an officer aboard the Peacemaker Station had she been born in another life.
Among other things, Madeira often tinkered in Sergio's kitchen, cooking up interesting Nereis dishes for the three of them to feast on between work and physical therapy. The food was strange and new, but Jameson had learned to adapt to a variety of cuisines during his time in the Fleet. It had only been strengthened during the last few years as a bounty hunter, jaunting between countless worlds and cultures.
Interestingly enough, the Nereis were all vegetarians, eating absolutely no meat.
"Not a choice," she explained, serving him a steaming plate of…something. Was that spinach? "We're biologically incapable of eating meat."
"Let me guess," Jameson began, "another bioalteration that came with the whole…mermaid thing?"
Madeira shot him a look, but she knew he was just saying it to toy with her.
"There wasn't much of a biosphere when the first colonists arrived. Not a whole lot of higher organisms like fish you find on most other worlds."
Jameson frowned. "On a water world you didn't have many fish?"
"Not enough to survive off. The main life on Aquarius is and was various flora that grow across the shallower parts of ocean floor. So with no land to breathe on and not a lot of fish to eat, the colonists changed their bodies to adapt."
"Haven't you ever wanted to change back? You don't need it to survive anymore."
Madeira shook her head, laughing. "You don't get it. We've been living this way for literally thousands of years. It's not a simple biological switch you can just dance back and forth between. Besides, I like my veggies. I don't need a bunch of worthless genetic surgery just so I can try a steak."
"You might change your mind if you ever saw bacon…"
Jameson laughed to himself, remembering that conversation. He fidgeted a bit more with his faceplate, finally satisfied with the way the new screen was projecting. It would take a bit of time getting used to the fresh visuals, but he always did.
He quickly attached it back to his main helmet, donning the whole ensemble. His faceplate sank into position over his face, providing some much needed shade from the blistering sun. Jameson hadn't realized how hot he was getting sitting out in broad daylight.
"Jameson?"
He glanced around, spying Madeira sneaking up the stairwell from below.
"Is that you in there?"
"Of course it is," Jameson replied, his voice filtering out of his helmet's stereo projector. It seemed peculiar to hear the mechanically tinged sound of his voice this way again after nearly three weeks without his faceplate.
Madeira made a face. "It's…weird. Do you wear that all of the time?"
"Most of the time. Always when I'm on a bounty. Usually when I deal with people in general, actually."
Madeira cocked her head, still looking uncomfortable with the set up. "I liked it better when it was just you."
Unconsciously, Jameson retracted the faceplate, exposing himself to the sunlight again. He was surprised how instinctively it had come. He had dealt with clients before that felt uncomfortable with his faceplate down; who wanted to look him in the eye. He had easily ignored their requests. With Madeira, though…she hadn't even asked and he was alread
y making her accommodations.
Of course, that smile she was flashing him now made it worth it.
"That's better. Even if you do look all scrunched up inside." She laughed to herself.
Jameson rolled his eyes, pulling the rest of the helmet it off. Once he adorned the rest of his body armor, then he would feel more comfortable again. Back in his protective shell.
"How are things going downstairs with Sergio?" he asked, trying to be conversational.
"Sergio is out for the day. Got a work order at one of the resort suites across the city."