Julieta. There was a void left behind, regardless of his responsibility to everyone else there. He knew he needed to send out the message to mobilize; that much was clear.
Kun stood in the evening glow, watching the sun hesitate above the mountains, and wished that it would hurry to set. He had a desire to go to his telescope, and see if he could find the station in the inky distance. Those bottomless depths he had once dived into, bringing back with him two sleeping warriors.
Fifty years from their discovery he had waited to resurrect them. And though he found Wallace to be more than unusual, he wouldn’t trade their time together for all the wealth the universe could hold.
Kun looked to the fiery disk a last time before heading indoors, wanting some sort of connection to them again. They were so far away. If what Wallace had said was true, they had their work cut out for them. Kun was no longer able to control the outcome, though he burned incense to promote favor, and meditated on the fate of those far away from him.
۞The Nimitz – two days later.
Tark had given them the run of the station, more or less. They all had identity cards. He’d laid out the ground rules, given them briefings, and left them to their own devices. Tark felt they deserved a little liberty, given their circumstances. They were, after all, faced with a tremendous readjustment. Harsh reality would set in eventually as they tried to make new lives.
None of them was particularly inclined to argue the point. It was an unhappy thought; having to leave the protective womb of the station, and face into surviving on their own. They’d had skill sets chosen especially for their presumably now-defunct mission. One could only imagine that they would have to enter training all over again to make use of any of those skills. And the mission? They had no end orders.
Antonio argued that the passage of time was the expiration. There could be no person left who would have charge of those orders anymore. For once, Jemi took an opposing view and insisted that they ought to find out for certain. This discussion took place quietly, excluding Maeve. She had been, once upon a time, chosen as their leader. This was when it had seemed like a simple thing to join an elite program. Before any of them had met Maeve.
It had been touted as a program into which personnel fought to be accepted. This was the purported next stage of the space program, by then privatized. It had still been competitive. Antonio had been civilian, as had Jemila…as well as some of the others who were now lost. Fergus Wallace, for instance, and Hiroko Takemura. It had taken them months to realize that there were more than just a few similarities between all their life stories, though.
By then, they were too far into the program, too isolated, too aware of their precarious positions. Even if they’d tried to run, no one would have believed their stories. Even now, it seemed unbelievable. They wouldn’t have left Maeve behind. They couldn’t have taken her either. All that secrecy was pointless now anyway. They’d have to tell her everything soon, when they figured out how to. Would she be able to accept any of it? They had sat on that question for weeks now, while Leif mulled over other things he needed to tell her. Difficult, thorny things. He was not looking forward to any of it.
After all other considerations, they were all grateful that Wallace wasn’t among them. From her behavior to date, it seemed probable that she would not have been as well off if he had been. They did mourn Julieta Ramirez and Hiroko, and that Maeve had never formally met those two.
Wallace was an entirely different question. He never should have been included in the program, as far as any one of them was concerned. They all had their reasons for believing this was so. The only truly important reason, in Leif’s mind especially, was a matter of trust. There had been debate about whether Wallace’s actions had been deliberate or sheer stupidity, but what he’d done had led to consequences far beyond anyone’s control.
They halted directly outside the walls between Maeve’s rooms and them. Loud music emanated through the walls. Music had always been her refuge. It was somehow reassuring that she was at least listening to it. Before, after everything that had happened, she had gone silent. No songs, no talking, no anything.
Once, though, she and her brother had played guitar together in a long ago time, only dim memory now. They would sit out in the dirt and grass yard of their cramped housing, picking out songs under the stars. Those nights had been filled with the smell of citronella candles sloshing around in glass jars and beer of the cheapest variety. Anyone who had wanted to join in had always been welcome. Leif recalled that she’d favored bluegrass and folk. What pounded on the other side of the walls, as they stood listening, was distinctly different. It seemed that some inner conflict was still raging.
Josh broke their inertia, caused by the intensity of the sound, and began thumping on the door vigorously. The music quieted slightly, and they heard her call to enter. The door opened on its own, revealing nothing of Maeve, until they rounded the corner. She hung from a bar, finishing a set of pull-ups, after which she dropped and started in on pushups. The music made slightly more sense now, given the sweat she had worked up.
“Three hundred to go. Just finished the first hundred.” Josh nodded.
“You’re gonna be on your face by the end of ‘er.”
“That’s the idea.” She gritted her teeth and focused on getting through the discomfort and the urge to stop. Grace stood staring at the pull-up cage.
“Where the hell did she get this? I’m not saying I want one, but still.”
“I dunno. Let’s ask after she finishes, though.” They adjourned to her kitchen and began to raid the cupboards. Maeve ignored the rattling and banging. She struggled to find the focus to get through fifty more pushups, breaking them into smaller chunks. After that, one hundred sit-ups, while her body screamed at her, and then one hundred air squats.
Though she was finished, she waited several moments to peek at her timer. Twenty-eight minutes. Not great, but not poor, either. She reminded herself that this was not about sprinting to a finish line. She had to find her pace and hold to it. That was the trick, though. Finding a tempo, a rhythm by which she could live. A shadow loomed over her. She snapped out of her reverie.
“What do you say to a quiet night in?” Leif was smiling down at her.
“Somehow I can’t see quiet being a part of it for long.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Innocence was not one of his better acts.
“I saw the bottles you just brought in.” She forced a smile and waggled a finger at the kitchen counter.
“Oh, that. Just a growler and some wine. And some other stuff. Not my idea.” He screwed up his face and stared at the ceiling. “Completely.”
“Where did you find a growler?”
“Brewpub. They fill them right on the spot for you. We were thinking of getting some pizza, catching up on the cinematic treasures we’ve surely missed…what do you say?”
“Sure. Sounds, um, relaxing.” She continued to towel off, ignoring Leif’s pointed look.
“No other plans tonight?” He wanted to punch himself in the head. How could she fail to read him completely?
“None that I’m aware of.” She quirked her mouth at his relieved expression. “Alright, out with it. You’ve been acting weird for the past couple days.”
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Is this about Major Petrovich?” Maeve watched his face run through a series of expressions. She wondered if he was aware of just how poor a job he did hiding his thoughts.
“What?! Noooo…nah. Nope.”
“Jemi said you guys went out to a bar the other night. He and I were at a very similar place that night.”
“So? You’re an adult.”
“You’ve always looked out for me, like a br…you’re a good friend. Probably the best friend I’ve ever had.” He’d turned away, not wanting her to read his face right then. It was obvious to him why she’d pulled short of using the word “brother”, but being thought of that way, or as ju
st a friend…it cut deep.
“We might have seen you with him. No big deal.” He willed her to keep asking, to admit finally that she knew there was more to it. Somehow, though, he knew she wasn’t ready to go back in time yet. Turning back around, he strained a smile back onto his face. “Now, you still like the veggie pizza, right?”
۞
Tark was just stretching out on his bed, savoring the damp, fresh feel of just having had a long bath. Sa’andy stood leaned over the sink, toweling off her silky hair. She then tossed the cloth on the floor to mop up the excess of water that had escaped the confines of the tub. Sometimes she missed living in her watery world, but on fortune’s side, Tark had grown up in an environment well-accustomed to moisture. She hadn’t any idea what it had entailed, other than that he loved a good wet room. Someday, she hoped to visit his beloved bayou with him.
Humidifiers sitzed moisture into the air. Warmth seeped along the fog, creating a boggy atmosphere. Tark had tree frogs living with them, in a recessed terrarium. They loved the swampy air as much as the two bipeds that cared for them did. It was a simple and pleasant life. In fact, in spite of the day’s events, Tark would almost call it a charmed existence. He was more than simply content, and said as much.
“It is always content, I notice, when we have time to bathe together.”
“Doesn’t hurt that you’ve been extra attentive since that cursed morning. I’m not going to question any of it. C'est génial to be in love. At least, I’m assuming love is what’s driving this trolley. Otherwise, my whole universe is out of whack.” That earned a smile. He was as much a sucker for those lips of hers as she was for his quaint sense of chivalry.
“Assume away. There isn’t a thing in the universe to stop you.” She drew him closer, and began to massage his forehead. Except exhaustion, he might have amended, but he was already out cold. He snored a bit on the loud side until Sa’andy gently rolled him onto his stomach. Then all he did was hiss. In, out, in, out. It was familiar enough a sound to lull Sa’andy into a restful state. She tucked herself close up to him, and slipped into her own state of partial consciousness.
۞
That lone disembarkee from the laid over ship sat in a stranger’s room listening to the sounds of the station. It seemed almost alive to his perceptions. It had tremendous energy that he would need to make use of in order to complete his mission. He wanted to tap into its being, and make it bow to his will. Two hours had passed while he walked throughout the halls and chambers of the Nimitz, memorizing and planning.
No one had stopped him, not even to ask if he was lost. There did not seem to be even the least hint of suspicion toward strangers here. And that was its greatest weakness. It was exploitable, and he would taste blood again very soon because of it. There was a woman with him. She had willingly gone with him from a pub, a quiet little bar that had been the terminus of his tour.
And it was a veritable land of plenty, though after tonight, he’d have to orchestrate his return there carefully. No more pickups there anymore, though he’d go back. The woman lay very still on the floor. She appeared to be tired, after they’d thrashed together there for over an hour. So tired that she’d given up trying to seem alive.
He reached over and carefully undid his belt from around her neck. He’d been so gentle about it, skillful actually, that the marks left by the leather strap were hardly visible. She lived alone. Wouldn’t be missed for a few days, longer than he needed to finish up. It didn’t entirely make up for having had to abstain from cutting loose on the transport to this place. He always wanted so much more.
It was like that, wanting