His voice sounded hollow and distant, as if he had scrubbed and scrubbed to remove all emotion from it, but the stains remained. “They recorded farewell messages, said goodbye to their wives or husbands, families, friends. Some of them cursed me, some of them seemed resigned. Sooner or later they all died, and most of them not quickly. In the last seconds, they—” His voice hitched, and he glanced at his son. “Arden heard some of the messages. I should have sent him away sooner.”
Elisa stood straight, determined. “Do I need to listen to them? Anything valuable in the last words?”
“I deleted the messages. All of them. Couldn’t risk anyone else hearing that.”
She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Good decision, sir.”
He hung his head. “I’m ruined. I have assets from my other industries, and I’ve buried funds in banks on scattered planets, but it won’t do me much good. After this debacle, no one would partner with me again.”
Elisa had never heard him like this. “So . . . you came back to lie low?”
“We’re not hiding—we’re reassessing.” Iswander gave Elisa a self-deprecating smile. “Oh, and I lost the election to become Speaker, in case you were wondering. I got one vote.”
“I wouldn’t vote against you,” she said, and decided it was time. “In fact, I’ve found a new venture for you, something no other Roamer knows about. Are you willing to start from scratch?”
“Don’t have much choice,” Iswander said. “And I’ve done it before.”
Now she saw a faint light in the back of his eyes again. Good.
She displayed the file she had brought. After the explosions and the loss of her son, she had felt defeated as well, but there was too much at stake. Even if she was wounded from her own loss, she had to be strong in order to help Lee Iswander.
She showed images of the swollen nodules drifting about in the empty dark between the stars, thousands of them. “This is where I tracked Garrison in his stolen ship, a large cluster of strange nodules. Maybe organic, maybe not. They aren’t in any database. He tried to hide among them, but look how dangerous they are.”
She displayed the furious inferno as the bloaters detonated, one after another, a chain reaction that swelled outward like multiple supernovas. The blast flung her ship on the crest of the shock wave. She didn’t tell him that the initial energy discharge had come from her own ship.
Iswander blinked, as if reminded of the erupting fires on Sheol. He reached out to clutch her hand, a surprisingly warm and compassionate grip. “I’m sorry about your son, Elisa.”
She pulled her hand away and called up another file. She had to make him see. “That isn’t all, sir. Those bloaters . . .” She felt a pang as she used the word Seth had made up. “I analyzed a few outliers that survived the explosion. They were scattered across great distances, like bread crumbs in a line, and once I knew what to look for, I scanned far and wide—and discovered a second cluster of bloaters near the fringe of an uninhabited star system. I suspect there are other conglomerations as well. I left a marker at the new site—we can go back whenever we like.”
Iswander looked at the images of the exotic bloaters, dull brownish green nodules barely lit by the distant spray of starlight. “But what are they? Why should I care?”
“Because, sir, they will save you, make you fabulously rich.” Elisa’s eyes shone, and now she clasped his hand, trying to push her intensity upon him so that she reignited his own drive. “The bloaters are filled with ekti!”
THIRTY-EIGHT
GARRISON REEVES
The battered Iswander Industries ship made its way to the rubble belt that had once been the heart of Roamer government. Thanks to Garrison’s falling out with his father, Seth had never been to Rendezvous, despite its significance to the clans. The boy seemed nervous as they approached the main asteroid. “Does my grandfather even know who I am?”
Garrison tried to keep his voice light, though his heart felt heavy. “Of course he knows who you are! And I’m sure he’s anxious to meet you.” He reached over to tousle his son’s hair.
Seth ducked his head away. “But do you think they’ll be glad to see us?”
“Definitely.” This time, it was harder to sound convincing.
He was sorry to see how quickly Seth recovered from the loss of his mother. The boy had cried a great deal during the long flight from the explosion site in deep space, but now he seemed to be denying or ignoring what had happened. Children were resilient, but Garrison thought this was more than that. Maybe at Rendezvous his son would feel more settled, for a while.
Garrison had paid little attention to his last sight of the asteroid cluster when he turned his back on the place eleven years ago to run off with Elisa Enturi. Although clan Reeves had worked hard in the intervening years, he saw now that they had not made a great deal of progress in rebuilding Rendezvous. The project was just too big for them.
Garrison had been a teenager during the Elemental War, and he remembered the frantic evacuation of Rendezvous as the Earth Defense Forces bombarded the connected asteroids, a devastating act that had turned the clans into outlaws. From that point, Garrison had lived with his family in place after place, scrounging a living, surviving without “frivolous comforts,” as Olaf called them. After the end of the war, when the proud clans vowed to rebuild Rendezvous, Olaf Reeves championed the task as if it were a sacred duty.
But the scope of the reconstruction project became plain over the years. The members of clan Reeves spent years maneuvering the dispersed asteroids back together, connecting them with struts and walkways, excavating the collapsed grottos that had been meeting chambers.
Once the clans joined the new Confederation, however, Newstation became a more viable government and trade center. Rendezvous had originally been established as a mere stopping-over point for the generation ship Kanaka. Aside from its historical significance and being a place close to every Roamer’s heart, the system was out of the way, with no particular resources. Speaker Del Kellum had suggested a fresh start for the Roamers in a more hospitable place.
As the other clans lost interest and withdrew their support for rebuilding Rendezvous, calling the project a boondoggle, Olaf Reeves grew more intractable and more determined, though he refused to accept any outside assistance—especially not the Iswander Industries modules Garrison had tried to deliver.
“Stubborn” seemed an insufficient word to describe his father.
Garrison sighed as he flew the battered ship toward the main docking asteroid, steeling himself before he flipped on the comm. “Hello, Rendezvous, this is Garrison Reeves, on my way home. My son is with me. If you’ve got a place for us to stay for a few days, we have a story to tell.”
The thin face of his younger brother Dale appeared on the comm screen. His voice was almost a yelp. “Garrison! We thought you were dead on Sheol.”
Garrison’s heart lurched. “Dead on Sheol?” He had been cut off from all communications since fleeing the lava-processing facility. “What happened?”
“A disaster. The whole facility—lava eruptions! Hundreds killed.”
Seth’s eyes went wide as they filled with tears, and Garrison felt a hot coal in his chest. “You were right, Dad.”
“Not the way I wanted to be.”
After he landed the stolen Iswander ship—which he had never bothered to name, though Roamers always named their ships—several clan members gathered in the rock-walled bay to meet him. Clan engineers came forward to fuel the ship and check out the systems, as if this were any other vessel landing for a brief stopover.
A squat, swarthy man with the incongruous name of Bjorn eyed the discolorations on the hull. “You’re awfully hard on your ship, Garrison.”
“Not my ship.”
“Then you’re awfully hard on other people’s ships. We’ll fix what needs to be fixed, patch what needs to be patched. How long are you staying?”
Garrison didn’t have an answer for that. “Depends.” Depend
s on the reception we get. Depends on what happened at Sheol. Depends on what I decide to do from now on.
Bjorn scratched a bristly cheek. “I just need to know how much time we have to complete repairs.”
“As long as you need,” Dale said as he entered the bay. His younger brother had a high forehead and a pointed chin that was now covered with a wispy beard, as if he were trying to imitate his father’s extravagant whiskers, but came up far short—as he did in most things. He stepped forward to shake Garrison’s hand, then enfolded him in an awkward embrace. “Your timing is perfect—we’re all packing up to leave.”
“Leave?” Garrison couldn’t believe that his father would finally give up on the insurmountable task of reconstructing Rendezvous. “Going where?”
Seth broke in, pale and anxious. “Tell us what happened at Sheol?”
Dale grinned down. “This is your boy? Sendra and I have two sons of our own, five and nine. You knew that, right? We have plenty of time to catch up and . . .” He looked uncertain. “I, uh, should let Father tell you everything. He’ll be glad to see you.”
Garrison raised his eyebrows “Will he, Dale?”
Shy and awkward, his brother avoided the answer. “He’ll certainly want to talk with you.”
As they left the hangar bay, they encountered a slender and pretty woman with strawberry-blond hair. Standing inside the rock-walled corridor, she directed an intense gaze toward Garrison. Dale said stupidly, “You remember Sendra, my wife?”
“He better not have forgotten me.” She came forward to kiss Garrison on the cheek, which embarrassed Dale more than it did Garrison.
Sendra Detemer should have been Garrison’s wife; everyone knew that. They were a perfect match, attracted to each other, and the marriage should have joined the two clans. But after he had left Rendezvous with Elisa, Sendra accepted Dale’s marriage proposal. She was smart, pretty, and followed her own interests. His brother knew full well that he was merely the second choice. And now, after what had happened with Elisa, Garrison was painfully reminded of the bad choice he had made.
With Dale standing right beside her, Sendra gave Garrison a gaze full of meanings, regrets, questions, and not-so-subtle flirtation. You could’ve had me, she seemed to be thinking. “And how is your wife?” she asked.
Dale hissed, “Sendra—they came from Sheol.”
She looked mortified at what she had said. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”
Garrison lowered his head. “Elisa wasn’t there either.”
The boy blurted out, “My mother died in an explosion out in space.”
Dale hurried them along, eager to get away from Sendra. “We shouldn’t delay. I let Father know we’re coming, so he’s waiting for us.”
Garrison knew what that meant. “Then we’d better not keep him.”
The clan leader’s chambers had once belonged to the Roamer Speaker, back when this asteroid had been the heart of Rendezvous. Olaf Reeves sat behind his metal desk as if holding court. He did not get up to greet Garrison or Seth; he was too proud for that.
“It’s the prodigal son.” Even here in the small office, Olaf’s voice was booming. “You’re older now—and wiser, let’s hope. You went off looking for Hansa happiness, when you should have been satisfied with Roamer happiness.”
“I was looking for my own happiness, Father. I wanted to do what was right.” But Olaf’s words hit home. Elisa’s definition of happiness—her goals, her success, her drive—had been very different from Garrison’s desire for a fulfilled life, a strong family, close friends. That would have been enough for him, but it had never been enough for Elisa.
Olaf turned toward Seth. “And my grandson, quite a young man. We’ll have a place for you among us. We just retrieved our clan children from Academ, so they can be taught in proper Roamer ways. We even brought a Teacher compy to help.”
Seth brightened. “A compy?”
“We have five total now,” Dale interrupted. “We made sure the fail-safe programming systems are in place.”
Seth looked at his father, disappointed. “But I wanted to go to Academ.”
“I’ll still find a way for you to go there, don’t worry,” Garrison said.
“You don’t need Academ.” Olaf leaned forward, giving his grandson a warmer welcome. “The Teacher compy’s name is BO. She knows a lot about Roamer history—you can join the other children in their independent classes. With us. You’ll do well, I’m sure.”
Garrison felt distinctly uncomfortable. “That wasn’t my plan, Father. We’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
His father’s bushy eyebrows drew together. “Yes, we are. I’m not surprised you spotted the dangers at Sheol, because you’re smart and could see what was in front of your face. We hadn’t heard that you got away . . . thought you might have stayed with That Woman.”
“I sounded the warning, but Lee Iswander didn’t listen. Neither did Elisa.”
Olaf made a disgusted sound. “That man’s been Goose-headed for years, forgot he’s a Roamer. We are best when we push the limits and survive by the skin of our teeth—that makes us grow, makes us strong.”
Dale said, as if repeating a benediction, “A knife loses its edge unless it is sharpened.”
When Garrison was in his father’s presence, the big man seemed to consider Dale invisible. “Too many Roamers have gone soft on comfortable planets. The romance is gone. They lost something vital. That’s why we’re all pulling out—leaving Rendezvous and making a new home.”
“Leaving Rendezvous? You invested everything here, insisted on clinging to this place even when everyone else pulled out and called you a stubborn fool. Where are you going to go?”
“Far away,” Olaf said. “We’re too close to the stink of Newstation, the Confederation, and all the things that weaken us. One of our clan scouts found an ancient city in space, probably millennia old. It was like a sign. No one’s touched it. We’ll make it our new home.” He leaned forward to encompass both Garrison and Seth with his gaze. “Our home.” He pretended to notice reports on his desk screen, then glanced at the chronometer on the wall. “I understand they’re making repairs to your ship now? We’ll find a place for you to settle in, figure out what your place will be with us.”
Garrison held up his hands. “We haven’t said we’re going with you. Seth and I just came back for a visit, and to ask for a little help.”
“That Woman gave you enough help. The wrong kind. Now it’s time to come home, if you’ve learned your lesson.”
Seth looked lost, and Garrison gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He remembered the opportunities he had missed while growing up because of his father’s pigheadedness, and he would not inflict that upon his son. “No. We’re not going with you to whatever isolated place you’re taking the clan. Seth needs to grow up in the Confederation, to be part of the future, not part of the past. He’s going to Academ where he can learn with Roamer children his own age.”
A flush rose in Olaf’s cheeks, and his voice became a growl, though it didn’t get any louder. “You’ve already had a terrible lapse in judgment, Garrison. That Woman seduced you, corrupted you. You can be forgiven for making one major mistake, but you’re about to make another one.”
“I’m making a decision. Whether it’s a mistake or not is something we can determine later. Seth and I won’t be following you out to the middle of nowhere just because you’re fed up with the Confederation and with other Roamers. Seth wants to study at Academ, and I think that’s a good choice for him.” Olaf snorted, but Garrison stood straight, feeling his face flush. In the years he’d been gone he had learned a lot about strength. “Did you give the other clan members the chance to make up their own minds? Or are you forcing them to go with you, because you know what’s best for them all?”
“I do know what’s best for them, so their choice is obvious.”
“And the choice is obvious to me too. Seth and I will make our own way, build our own lives.”
Olaf
glowered. “Then let the consequences be on your own head.”
This was exactly what Garrison had feared, and he’d expected nothing less. He also knew that argument was useless with Olaf Reeves.
Olaf glanced at his other son, as if just remembering Dale was there. “Tell Bjorn to get Garrison’s ship fixed and fueled so he can be about his important business. The rest of clan Reeves has its own Guiding Star to follow.”
THIRTY-NINE
ORLI COVITZ
Matthew had asked Orli to meet him at one of their favorite restaurants, a colorful high-end establishment built and run by Rlinda Kett. By long distance, he had made reservations and added a significant tip so they had their favorite table—the one Rlinda always guaranteed for them. That was a good sign, Orli told herself, and she clung to the thought as she got ready, even though she felt a distinct uneasiness about what her husband planned to say.
Matthew Freling wasn’t a man who laughed often. He was serious and focused to the point of being preoccupied. Orli had fallen in love with his smile, but she couldn’t recall any hearty laughter—that wasn’t part of his personality. There had been no smiles in his recent message. He said he had something “important” to talk with her about. Not something “special.” Not a “surprise.”
In their apartment, Orli obsessed over which dress to wear. Expensive business attire? Something flirtatious to welcome him home after his long trip? Muted colors to acknowledge a serious occasion, or just a casual outfit to downplay any sort of concern she might have?
Finally, she asked DD for his advice. The Friendly compy lectured her about alternatives until she sighed and held up a hand for him to stop. “Make a random selection for me, DD. That’ll do.” He selected a maroon blouse over a pair of tailored black slacks made from merh-silk. Orli added a necklace of polished reef pearls from Rhejak—a gift from old Mr. Steinman, and more expensive than she liked to think about.
The Dark Between the Stars Page 21