“Good sailing,” Fisher echoed.
The chronometer counted down the last few seconds. Then the Cleland’s engines glowed as Choria slammed them into the Well at the angle she’d need. There was a surge of power—everyone on the station with any sense of anything would feel it—and then the Cleland streaked rainbow across the blackness of space and disappeared into æther.
“That never gets old,” Ned said.
“No,” Fisher agreed. The schedule indicated that they had two hours before the Harland arrived. “You should take a nap, if you can. We’ll need you.”
“We’ll need you too,” Ned said. “But I suppose you’re going to take a stimulant instead.”
“I am,” Fisher said. “I’ll sleep when the Harland is done.”
“You’d better,” Ned said, and the comm went quiet.
The screens changed to show the interior of the ore-processing facility as Fisher coordinated the work that needed to be done before the next shipment arrived. Fisher went to the calorie dispenser and requested something to stay awake. It didn’t taste very good, but it would do the job, and that meant Fisher could too.
11.
NED RETURNED FIFTEEN MINUTES before the Harland was due, which meant he couldn’t have gotten very much sleep. He looked better, though, and he wasn’t drinking a stimulant this time, so Fisher counted it as a win. It was nearing midnight on the station’s chronometer, the darklight shift half over. The restaurants and shops on the colonnade were long closed, but a few bars would still be open. Fisher didn’t frequent any of them, but he did read the health inspection reports, so he knew what amenities the station had to offer.
“This ship has been out there for twenty years,” Ned said, reading the screen in front of him. “The last time it was here, we weren’t even born yet.”
“How old is that ship?” Fisher asked. The newer ships could make the mining run in five years. Two decades meant the ship was practically ancient, and probably huge.
“It’s old,” Ned said. “It’ll have to dock on the lower half of the ring.”
That made unloading slightly more complicated, but there was nothing for it. That was the only place they could put a ship of that size. What they lacked in speed, they made up for in hauling capacity.
“Get a load of this thing.” Ned was now looking at a technical readout of the ship. “Most of it is engine and cargo space. There’s like four rooms. I would go absolutely insane.”
Ned did not take well to staying in one place, which wasn’t exactly a quality one looked for in the person who was locked into Brannick Station by his genetics, but at least the station was gigantic and there was plenty to do.
“Only the captain and first officer are scheduled to come on board,” Fisher said. “They’re not even helping unload. It’s going to be all on our end.”
Ned shuddered.
The boys watched as the docking procedures were completed and the airlocks regulated. As expected, only one crew airlock cycled for use, along with the main and auxiliary holds.
“There’s nothing in the second hold,” Fisher reported, skimming the official register. “They’re just opening up to maximize air recycling. I’m going to switch the cameras to run maintenance.”
“That’s fair enough,” Ned said. “And also handy, since that’s where we should have unloaded the Cleland, so they might think it was weird if the hold was empty when they know there was a ship in front of them.”
“Everything is working out very nice for you,” Fisher said sarcastically. “I didn’t nearly have a heart attack or anything.”
Ned didn’t reply.
“Do you want to go oversee the unloading?” Fisher offered an olive branch. “If you start doing it on regular shipments, you can do it when your friends come in as well.”
Ned brightened. He was out of his chair and heading for the door before Fisher could draw breath. It was something, at least.
Fisher watched on the monitors as the ship was unloaded. It was strange not to have anyone get off and help or supervise or go get a drink on the colonnade. Instead, the Brannick team removed enormous crates of semi-processed ore from the hold of the Harland, stacking them in the cavernous loading bay until they figured out what was going where. A requisition list popped up on Fisher’s screen, mostly medical supplies and food. He sent it on to the quartermaster to be filled. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Fisher even saw Ned shaking hands with a tall woman he assumed was the captain. She didn’t look particularly thrilled about it.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. All the cameras in the other loading bay were maintenance cycling through one monitor since there wasn’t anything going on there right now. Or at least, there wasn’t supposed to be anything going on there right now. Fisher turned away from his brother’s image, and brought up the secondary cameras on more screens until he found what he was looking for.
A small figure dropped out of the Harland and made her way across the empty floor. It had been scrubbed after the Cleland had departed, partly as procedure and partly to destroy evidence, so there wasn’t really anything for her to hide behind as she crossed the deck. The door opened for her automatically, and she seemed to hesitate before crossing the threshold, as if it was the most important step she’d ever take.
With a flash of insight, Fisher realized that it probably was the most important step she’d ever taken. She didn’t look older than he was, which meant she had been born on the Harland and had probably never stepped foot anywhere else. Fisher wondered whether it was curiosity or desperation that drove her.
The girl stepped into the hallway and Fisher looked for the next footage of her. By the time he tracked her down, she had changed. Her hair was longer and darker, and her jumpsuit was a different colour. He watched while she changed its shape, making the suit more form-fitting and less of a coverall. For a moment, he wondered if he’d had too many stimulants, but then it struck him. She must be a gene-mage. And not just any gene-mage, either. There were four doctors on Brannick who could read a person’s genes with varying ability, but none who could change.
He sent a signal to Ned, hoping his brother would return to the office right away. They had to talk before the girl went back to the Harland. But Ned was busy helping move crates—of all the times to decide to start doing that!—and didn’t notice the message. Fisher watched onscreen as the girl went farther into the station. She didn’t seem to be looking for anything in particular, but neither was she wandering at random. She stuck to crowds, like she was hiding or trying to blend in. She followed the movement of the masses, heading past the shopfronts until she reached one of the most notorious bars on the station. She paused for a moment, and then ducked inside.
On the loading dock, the crates were almost all in place. The Harland’s captain had already sent the first officer back to the ship. Ned was directing the placement of the last few crates. It occurred to Fisher that he could stall the requisitions, but no sooner had the idea come to him than the quartermaster arrived with everything ready to go. Usually, Fisher was very proud of the station’s efficiency, but at the moment, it was causing a small dilemma.
He kept half an eye on the feed that monitored the bar. She hadn’t left yet. She had to know how tight the timing was. Her captain probably bragged about how little time they spent in port. If she was going to get back, she was going to have to get moving.
. . . If she wanted to get back. She’d snuck out and changed her physical appearance. She didn’t have anything with her, but maybe she hadn’t been able to bring her possessions. If this was an escape, it was pretty dire, but it wasn’t a half-bad attempt. There was always work available on Brannick. And she was a gene-mage. They would be beyond lucky to have her. Which of course meant her captain must also want her. Fisher couldn’t see the whole picture yet, and he was sure he was missing something important.
He watched
helplessly while the Harland’s captain went back onto the ship and began the exit procedures. They weren’t using the Well, so they didn’t need Ned or any calculations or clearance. They’d just let operations know when they wanted the clamps released. Both of the cargo-hold doors were closing, sealing against the vacuum of space.
Ned came back into the office, whistling cheerfully.
“They weren’t so bad,” he said. “In a hurry because they’re meeting up with someone in a month for a contract and they have to control the engine burn or something, but aside from that, they weren’t as standoffish as I was expecting.”
“Someone got off their ship,” Fisher said tightly.
“Yes, I talked to the captain and the first officer,” Ned said.
“No, through the lower hold,” Fisher said. “A girl.”
“What?” Ned’s attention snapped to the monitor Fisher was using. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried!” Fisher said. “You didn’t answer me.”
“Why did you send it privately?” Ned asked. “You could have called the bay directly.”
“She’s a gene-mage,” Fisher said. “I watched her grow her hair twelve inches and change its colour. She changed her outfit too. And she snuck out, Ned. I think she might be escaping.”
“From what?” Ned said.
“I don’t know,” Fisher said. “Maybe she doesn’t like space travel. But she’s in a bar on the colonnade, and I think you should go talk to her.”
“Why?” Ned said. “She can find a job if she talks to the quartermaster. There are signs posted everywhere.”
“She’s a gene-mage, Ned.” Fisher resisted the urge to shake him by his shoulders. “Not like our doctors. She can alter things.”
It hung there for a moment between them, and then understanding dawned in Ned’s eyes.
“You’re out of your mind,” Ned said, leaning back in his chair.
“She ran away,” Fisher repeated.
“Maybe she murdered everyone else on the ship while the captain was in the hold,” Ned said.
“I think we should go talk to her,” Fisher said.
“Oh, it’s we now?” Ned said. He winced, immediately regretting what he’d said. “I’m sorry, Fisher. It’s always both of us. I know that. I just . . . did not imagine meeting girls this way, you know?”
Fisher managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. In space, the Harland’s engine fired. It would take a month of controlled burning to bring it back to Brannick now, and it would use up all the fuel in its reserves. Having just unloaded cargo, they would never be able to afford to refuel. Maybe this escape attempt wasn’t so morbid after all. Or maybe this girl was like Fisher, and things just worked out for her. But she was still running from people who couldn’t come back for her.
It didn’t matter. They were all here, and they had an opportunity, the three of them, even if they didn’t know each other yet.
“Should I brush my teeth?” Ned asked. He checked his reflection.
“Ned, you make business deals with total strangers all the time,” Fisher said.
“I think my hair looks too spiky.”
“I will murder you.”
“Can I see a clearer picture of her?” Ned asked. Fisher raised an eyebrow. “So I recognize her at the bar, jerk.”
Fisher cued up the camera and found a good image of the girl’s face. She was pale, but not entirely unattractive. Her eyes didn’t suit her face, which was a strange thing to think about a person, but he couldn’t shake the thought once it occurred.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Ned said. He did not sound ready, but he did sound determined. “Let’s shut down operations for the night and go to the bar.”
It was almost that easy. It took Ned half an hour to extract himself since they had to walk out the main doors to get to the colonnade and people had questions for him. After that, it was only a few more minutes to walk to the bar. This late, no civilians were going to pester the Brannick.
They heard the music before the rounded the corner. The bass was pumping, making Fisher’s ears throb before they even got inside. He didn’t actually mind the song, just the volume at which it was pounding through his skull. He spotted the girl quickly enough, pulling on Ned’s sleeve to get him moving in the right direction. She was sitting at the bar, eating the little nuts that the bartenders put out to make everyone thirsty.
For the rest of his life, Fisher could never think about what happened next without dissolving into uncontrollable laughter. He watched as his brother made his way across the floor, moving like a person who commanded a space station, only to lean against the bar and say the worst possible thing.
“Now tell me,” he said, with all the grace of unevenly packed ore crate, “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
12.
PENDT MANAGED NOT TO punch him, but only just. The other boy burst out laughing, and she didn’t know what to do. No one she met was ever so open with their emotions. The first boy’s line had seemed calculated to impress her, but now that she really looked at him, she could tell he was a bit nervous. She had no idea what was going on.
“Will you stop that?” the first boy said. “I am trying to make a good first impression.”
“I think that ship has launched, Ned,” the second boy said. “Possibly at light speed.”
“Ned, is it?” Pendt said, trying to get control of the conversation. She didn’t like facing this many unknowns. The Harland had probably launched by now, but she still didn’t want to attract attention, and these boys were clearly magnets for it.
“Ned Brannick,” he said. Pendt froze. “This is my brother, Fisher.”
“You’ve scared her, Ned,” Fisher said. “You didn’t need to throw the Brannick at her already.”
“I was being honest!” Ned said.
Everything was spiraling out of control. Pendt was going to get caught. She was going to be sent back. She was going—
“Let’s try this again,” Ned said. He held out his hand. “My name is Ned Brannick. I promise you, you do not have anything to be afraid of from me or from Fisher. We just want to talk. Can we go to a booth?”
Despite the noise and the crush of people, they were definitely starting to attract curious looks. And no wonder, two Brannicks talking to a total stranger. Pendt nodded and followed the boys to a booth in the back of the restaurant. A server appeared with menus, depositing one on the table for each of them.
“I’m starving,” said Ned, who didn’t look like he’d ever been on strict rations in his life. “We had two ore shipments come in today after literally months between deliveries. Can you imagine? Well, I mean, you were on one of them, so maybe you can.”
Pendt didn’t say anything. She didn’t pretend to read the menu either. It would only list food that she couldn’t afford.
“I saw you on the security camera,” Fisher said. “Usually when a shipment comes in, one of us stays in the booth to monitor operations and the other goes down to help.”
“What do you want from me?” Pendt asked. “Are you going to sell me back?”
“Sell?” Ned dropped his folksy pretense and sharpened to myriad edges at the word. “Stars, I was going to ask if you wanted us to send you back, but if you go straight to selling, maybe we should get right to it: over my dead body.”
Pendt relaxed a little bit. These boys were strangers, but they didn’t seem to be inherently cruel.
“I saw you,” Fisher said. “You snuck off your ship, changed the way you were dressed, and made no attempt to return when you knew the timeline was tight. Furthermore, you probably know how your ship launches. It can’t come back for at least a month, and that’s if they burn all their fuel. You don’t want to go back.”
“No.” Pendt was determined. “I won’t go back.”
The s
erver came back and Ned ordered for the table. Pendt didn’t understand any of the words he was saying, though she assumed they were all specific words for food. He didn’t mention who was going to pay.
“So here’s the thing,” Ned said as he distributed the cutlery. “My parents are currently being held hostage by the Hegemony, do you know what that is?”
“It’s what some people call the Stavengers,” Pendt said. She picked at the serviette in front of her. It was, rather pointlessly, folded in the shape of a flower. She loved it. “Because it feels like less of an empire that way.”
“We can argue about that later.” Ned waved off her comment. “Anyway, since my father is gone, I am the Brannick, the only one on the station with the right genes to keep the station alive.”
Usually at this juncture in the conversation there were awkward and ignorant questions about Fisher, but Pendt didn’t so much as blink.
“I have to stay,” Ned continued, “but I would very much prefer to go and fight in the rebellion.”
“The rebellion?” Pendt said. “I’m sorry, we don’t get a lot of current events on the Harland. I thought all that was more or less . . . finished.”
“Not entirely,” Fisher said quietly. “You’re right about the empire not really having died, and neither did the rebellion against it. It’s just more complicated now.”
“And you want my help?” Pendt said. She pressed a hand to her chest. “I just found out there was a rebellion, I don’t know anything about fighting in it.”
“That’s not what we want,” Ned said.
“I saw you change your appearance,” Fisher said. “It’s not just a disguise; it’s a full change. There hasn’t been a gene-mage on Brannick Station with that kind of power for generations, and you can’t be anywhere close to caloric maximum.”
As if mentioning food had conjured it, the server returned with a heavy tray. When it was all on the table in front of her, Pendt started to hyperventilate. She’d never seen so much food at one time in her entire life.
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