by David Ryker
We had word two weeks later that she’d been pulled out of an induced coma, the swelling on her brain having receded, but that there was some residual damage. What that was, I didn’t know — none of us did. Volchec had tried to look into it, but Alice’s father had interceded and told her where to shove her well wishes. I had to give Everett that one. She was bang on the money. Alice’s father didn’t know anything about what she was doing, and when he found out, he was less than pleased — especially considering that the Federation hailed him for his permission to put her into an induced coma. He was listed as her next of kin. Yeah, that didn’t go over very well.
Mac’s smirk was grating on me so I turned to the bar and ordered another round of shots, the last one still hot in my throat.
He came up on my shoulder and rested his chin there, the drinks clearly taking hold already. I could feel his breath warm on my neck and I wished it was Everett there instead.
“What is it, Mac?” I sighed, watching the bartender line up the glasses.
“I know something you don’t,” he mumbled, hiccoughing before standing up straight and clutching at his stomach.
“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” I almost sneered, reaching for the filled glasses.
“Alice is here — on the Athena.”
My shoulders clamped together and I stood up straight, the sticky liquid in the glasses spilling over my knuckles. “What did you just say?”
He took the remaining ones off the bar with his free hand, swiping his barcode on the bartop scanner, and tapped his nose with the other before turning and walking back to the table.
I swore under my breath and followed him. When we got there, Fish was slumped backward in the booth, Volchec was tapping something into her communicator — a thin glass panel — with one eye closed, and there was no sign of Everett at all. I put the glasses down and took my chair again as Mac slid in next to Fish.
“Where’s Everett?” I asked, not really giving a shit whether I sounded eager to know or not.
Volchec looked up and narrowed her eyes at me, forcing them to readjust to the new depth of field. “Huh? Everett? Oh, she’s, uh… She said she wasn’t feeling great — she headed home.”
I pulled my watch up to my face and checked the glowing readout. It was barely eight. Shit. Surely she couldn’t have been that bugged by what Mac had said? Could she?
Volchec reached over, took one, and then tossed it back. Mac scooped up two and put one in front of Fish. Mac shook him gently and he stirred, his gills billowing gently. His eyes blinked open one at a time and stared blearily into the air in front of him. I could see the drinks were taking their toll, and I wasn’t surprised. Eshellites had much slower metabolisms than humans, and he was all sinew — there was far less fatty tissue on his body to absorb the alcohol and it was being processed much more slowly than it was in the three of us. Mac lifted his hand ruthlessly and put it around the glass. Fish grumbled but couldn’t manage to string any words together.
“Come on, Fishy — drink up,” Mac said, closing his fingers for him. Volchec didn’t seem to notice.
“Leave it, Mac,” I said quietly, swirling my shot around my own glass. My mood had taken a nosedive all of a sudden.
But he didn’t stop. Fish looked slowly at Volchec, and then at me, letting out a low gurgling noise. It rang in my head as he tried to form words, but nothing but a moan came through.
“He’s fine,” Mac laughed, trying to get Fish to pick the shot up.
“He’s not, Mac.”
“I’ve known him a lot longer than you, alright, Red?” He laughed heartily, but it wasn’t a happy one.
“Mac, stop.” I snapped it this time and Mac paused, turning to me.
“What’s your problem, eh?”
“My problem?” I arched an eyebrow, slugged my shot and then slammed it down on the table top. “My problem is that you’re forcing a drink down Fish’s throat when he’s clearly had more than enough.”
“And that’s got you all twisted up, huh?” He looked at me dead-eyed.
“Yeah, it has, actually. So let him go — it’s not funny anymore.”
“Convenient timing — soon as I mention Alice, you go all moody.” He rolled his eyes and sneered at me before going back to Fish and his shot.
My fist hit the table before I could stop it. He turned to me, a drunken anger swimming behind his eyes. Volchec seemed indifferent, still tapping into her communicator with a stupid grin on her face. Whatever was in these shots was screwing with all of us. “Give it here,” I said, pointing at the drink in front of Fish. “I’ll drink it for him.”
“It’s not your shot.”
“But I want it.”
“It’s not yours.”
We both had our jaws set, fists clenched on the top now. Fish was barely conscious as it was. It was true that it wasn’t what was getting at me, and if Everett was still there, I probably wouldn’t be paying any attention to it, but she wasn’t, and Mac was being a bully and it was really starting to piss me off.
I drew a long breath and pulled my hands off the table. “It’s been a long night — hell, it’s been a long year. I think the drink is getting the better of us,” I growled.
“Oh, is that what you think, is it, Red?” He practically spat the words. If I let this go on, we’d be over the table after one another.
“It is, and I’m leaving.” I pushed myself to a stance. “And I’m taking him with me.” I dipped my head at Fish, my eyes not leaving Mac.
He sucked on his cheek for a while and then cast an eye at Volchec. He was crass at times, more than a little sadistic, too, but he wasn’t an idiot. We’d just spent a year trying to keep our necks out of the noose, and he knew that throwing a punch at me the day that we had our case dropped wasn’t too clever of an idea, especially not with Volchec sitting right there — and quite frankly, over something that wasn’t really that important. She was hardly a disciplinarian — we all knew where we stood with her, but if we started at each other's throats, she’d crack down with an iron fist that I didn’t want to feel again, and I could tell that Mac shared the same sentiment.
He grinned strangely and threw back his shot, pushing Fish’s toward me. I swallowed the rising bile in my throat and pounded it. Mac retained his grin and sat back, watching as I circled the table and grabbed Fish by the arm. He hissed weakly as I heaved him to his feet and put his arm around my shoulders. Mac stared at me the whole time, one wrong look away from saying fuck it and swinging for me anyway.
“You missed one,” he called as I moved past Volchec, pointing at Everett’s shot.
“You can have it,” I muttered, turning away. “Call it a consolation prize.”
I don’t think he heard the last bit, but I didn’t care. I was heading for the door, and was glad of it. Guess you never really know someone until you’ve seen them drunk. Usually, I liked Mac’s sense of humor — but that night I just didn’t have a laugh in me.
We trundled upwards on one of the hundreds of glass elevators that moved people around all over the Athena, backed by a huge central space that ran the full height of the station, and leveled out with belly-sloshing speed.
The doors opened onto a railed balcony and I bit into a belch to stop myself from vomiting. I took a deep breath and hauled Fish out onto our level. We’d been put on the Temporary Lodgings Deck. Whenever troops came to visit — either passing through for a restock, visiting, or for any other reason, they were put on the TL Deck. It was half a dozen levels of endless doors leading to identical rooms. Inside they were modest, with a bed, a kitchenette, and a shower, but not much else. They were clean, though, and it was the first time I hadn’t had to share a room with someone since I’d been on Genesis.
I wondered just then, feeling Fish’s fins poking me in the neck, whatever happened to it, my hab on Genesis — if someone else was living there now, and if so, who? Some random Tuber who hated the prospect of terraforming for the rest of his life? Enjoy it while you can, kid
. Nothing lasts forever.
I reached Fish’s room, conveniently situated right next to mine. There were more rooms than were ever needed, so they’d put us all next to each other. Volchec was on a deck above, of course — couldn’t have majors mixing with airmen. Everett, though, didn’t quite rank high enough for one of the swankier rooms.
I held Fish’s arm up to the scanner and the door beeped, swinging inwards. I hadn’t carried anyone to bed drunkenly since Genesis either, go figure. I pushed him onto the thin quilt and rolled him sideways, putting a pillow behind his back so he couldn’t roll onto it. I was filling a cup with water when he started groaning.
“Red…” he said quietly, his voice tinny in my ear.
“Yeah, buddy?” I replied, closing an eye against the ache that had started up behind it. I could feel my heart pumping hard on the thin blood, the alcohol taking a dislike to the physical activity.
“Thank… You.”
I smiled and put the cup on the bedside table. “Don’t mention it.” I nodded at him before going for the door. “Sleep it off,” I said warmly, then lied. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
His door clacked shut and in a blur of half-realized thoughts I was in front of another one. But it wasn’t mine. My mind was whirling, my heart beating even harder. I watched through pinholes as my hand raised and my knuckles rapped on the cold steel door of room 26-21.
I licked my lips, my mouth dry, and wished all of a sudden that I’d taken a drink of that water at Fish’s before leaving. But I didn’t get much time to ruminate on that before the door opened.
“Red,” she said, half shocked — half not. She’d shed her dress jacket and pulled her hair into a loose bun.
“Dem.” My voice was quiet and low, barely a whisper. I looked at her for a while, and she returned it, neither of us saying anything.
She pulled her lips into a line, eyes twitching as she weighed it up. I didn’t move until she tilted her head to the side and dipped it backward, motioning me in.
Then the door closed behind me, and I left all my thoughts of Alice out on the mezzanine.
3
I pulled my head out of the pillow at just after nine the next morning, the fuzziness of a hangover clinging to the back of my skull.
I cleared my throat and looked around. The thin smell of sweat hung in the air, but I couldn’t detect the presence of anyone else. I rolled over and sat up. “Everett?” I asked quietly to the empty room, knowing she wasn’t there.
I cracked my neck and rubbed my tired eyes. Despite dropping Fish off just after eight, it’d been well past midnight by the time sleep had claimed me.
I took a deep breath and tried to wipe the stupid grin off my face in case she came back in and saw it. I looked around and saw my pants in a heap next to the armchair in the corner. My shoes, on the other hand, were nowhere to be seen.
It took me a few minutes to find them — one was in the kitchenette, the other under the bed. I’d kicked them off in a hurry. In the process of hunting for them, I came across a note. It was on the bedside table, written quickly, but not hastily. It said:
Slipped out early to get a run in. Try not to get caught leaving — It’s nothing like that — It’ll just be easier if we keep whatever this is between us.
See you later,
Dem
I read it and reread it a few times and stared up at the door hoping she’d come back in. For a second I wondered if staying there and waiting for her was a good idea — but then I guessed that it wasn’t.
We’d both been under a haze last night, and though I definitely didn’t regret it, I wasn’t sure if she was thinking the same. She was my superior, after all — and a bit older than me, too. And I could see how it’d go. Here I was, an airman, bagging a stone cold fox — and a lieutenant at that. And her? She was slumming it — it wouldn’t look good professionally, or personally. Hell, if I was her I wouldn’t want anyone to know either.
I realized I’d crumpled the note in my hands as I thought that and unfolded it, reading it over again. “Shit,” I sighed, shaking off the last dregs of the hangover. I stuffed the note in my pocket and let myself out of the windowless room.
There was a light breeze blowing through the portion of the station we were staying in, and it was easy to see why. I stepped forward to the rail and looked over, my feet tingling with vertigo as I did. On the other side of it, there was a drop that was easily a few hundred meters down.
I looked up and saw a lot of levels above too. The entire space must have been a kilometer long, at least. A huge column of emptiness ran through the middle of it and on either side long balconies housing rooms and lodgings filled the walls. Creepers and other greenery hung from the otherwise gleaming steel surfaces, and below on the ground level was an ocean of trees that shaded walkways and shops and restaurants.
At the far end I could see massive paper fans moving up and down like huge diaphragms, wafting the air around. Daylight halogens burned above on a crosshatch of girders that spanned between glass panels revealing the eternity of space beyond.
I closed my eyes and let the wind wash over me for a few seconds, breathing in the smell of flowers blooming somewhere in the distance.
It was intermingled with sweat all of a sudden and I screwed my nose up, looking down. My white T-shirt, hidden beneath my jacket all day and then slung into a pile in the corner all night, was dry and crisp with sweat. I stunk, and looking at my creased clothes, if anyone saw me, they’d know I hadn’t been back to my own room yet.
I checked my watch — a little after nine — and then headed for a shower. We were on leave with nothing to do until Volchec caught up with us and told us where our next mission was, so until then, we could get some R&R — only I didn’t want any, because I’d spent the last year sitting on my ass doing practically nothing.
I sat down on the bed in a towel, droplets of still-warm shower water running down my stomach, and reached for the complimentary station pad on the bedside. I held it loosely in my left and activated it with my thumb while my other hand pushed a toothbrush back and forth over my molars. I bit down on it and navigated through to the station’s map. If I was going to keep my usual routine, it would be to get some sim time in until my eyes hurt from staring into the goggles, and then when I started to suck at it I’d head to the gym to work off my frustration. No point messing with what wasn’t broken.
I typed in ‘Sim’ with my left, working my incisors and a couple of options popped up — the Federation’s training sims, a couple of private ones, a full immersion experience, and then under ‘similar results,’ the words ‘Battle Arena’ popped up.
I wiped a droplet of toothpaste off my chin and tapped on it to check out what it was. It turned out that it was a holographic simulator of sorts where ‘competitors faced off in an ultimate battle of combat skill.’ And it turned out the next Mech event was happening in just over an hour.
I took the pad to the bathroom and spit, reading through the write-up for it. ‘Competitors from across the system all bring their Mech to fight for the coveted title of king of the arena.’ It would be perfect — give me a chance to get some practice in and shake the cobwebs off Greg. I tossed the pad onto the bed, grinning to myself. I was rocking top five for every sim-list I’d been on, and this would be no different.
I pulled on some jeans hastily and grabbed my communicator, searching the station’s menus for the number for their storage departments before heading for the door.
I dialed it and stepped back into the breeze, my hair still damp. A droid answered immediately and I gave them my ID and asked them to ship Greg up to the arena for me. The droid obliged and then cut me off. I sighed and stowed the communicator. “Guess your manners setting wasn’t turned up very high,” I muttered to myself.
“What are you mumbling about?” came a groggy voice from my right.
I turned to see Mac striding toward me, squinting in the bright morning lights. If I thought I felt like shit
he certainly looked it. I nodded to him and he returned it, not a hint of anger in his features.
“Rough night?” I asked, wondering if anything of our words from the bar would stay with him. I wasn’t holding on to anything, that was for sure.
He laughed abjectly. “Rough morning.”
“Why don’t you grab some more shut-eye?” I asked lightly, turning and leaning on the rail.
He shook his head and hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Fish’s door. “With him snoring like he does after a drink? Fat chance. Amazed I got any sleep at all.”
“I never knew — guess this is the first time I’ve seen him drink.” I laughed a little and looked at Mac, who was staring back at me, brow furrowed.
“I’m surprised you couldn’t hear him. You’re in 26-20, right?” He looked at my door now, next to Fish’s. “I’m in 26-18 — could hear him like a buzz saw.”
I looked from my room to Everett’s one along. The extra wall and five meters of space must have dulled it enough not to notice. I narrowed my eyes, trying to think — had there been music on, too? I couldn’t remember. It was foggy. “Guess I’m just a heavy sleeper,” I said, shrugging.
“Heavy sleeper? Suppose that’s why you didn’t hear me knocking, either?” he said, folding his arms. “Or were you just in there sulking?”
“What?” I said quickly — maybe a little too quickly.
He measured me for a second. “When I got back, I knocked on your door — wanted to straighten everything out. When I drink, I can get a little…” He rolled his shoulders and looked up. “And seems you can, too. Just a clash of personality, but I wanted to say that it wasn’t anything personal.”
“Oh, I was out,” I said, shaking my head. “Must have missed me.”