next destination and thought I might warn you. Who are you?"
"I'm Pan, he's Fred."
"You do speak English. This is new to me, this contraption I find myself peering out from. What do you see when you look at me?"
"A mirror floating in the air that shows the reflection of a woman."
"I'm female? I've forgotten what I look like, forgotten who I am. I know something bad has been happening but I can't gather myself together to stop it. The boy. Oh, yes, the boy. Have you seen a small boy?"
"Yes."
"Do you know where the boy is?"
"Far away. He is with people who care about him."
"Good. That's enough information. She might find out. I want you to find me but you must be careful. The next time you see me I won't be me. Leave this place. Find me. Kill me!"
2-04 Is This Jamie?
She was getting tired, and when she got tired she got cranky. This idiot had lost his concentration and he would pay for it. She tripped him and punched him on the way down, barely pulling the punch. She knelt beside the stunned Marine and checked for serious damage, watching out for retaliation. She was disappointed the man didn't retaliate, and he was still distracted after he shook off the effects of the combat drill. She called a halt to the exercise and frowned at him. He grinned sheepishly while pointing at something with his chin. She followed his gaze to the boy. Did he never see a child before? Oh. That child!
She turned back to her sparring partner and helped him off the mat.
"I'll tell you what I told all the others," she spoke with disgust. "I won't tolerate anything less than excellence. I'll keep beating the hell out of you until you beat it out of me. Dismissed."
She took a deep breath, walked over to get her towel, and turned toward the boy. She was a big woman with a big sweat and she towered over the boy. He seemed unimpressed with her Marine Corps intimidation. He smiled at her as though he knew just where to tickle her and reduce her to jelly.
What an odd thing to pop into her head! Pectin. Her mother canning fruits and jellies. Sadly sweet that it was her grandmother, not her mother. Fruit from the orchard. The orchard still standing after the great quake, but the fruit fallen to the ground, rotting. Her adopted parents were dead. Not only dead but never having existed. They were her grandparents, and keeping secrets to the grave. Oh, God, what a thing to remember right now! Why now?
"You aren't waiting for me, are you?" she asked the boy. She tossed the towel onto her shoulder, still struggling to keep her unexpected ancient memory from making her cry. Here he was, the child of rumor, and she wasn't prepared. It was as if he was here to make her cry. She couldn't cry. She had lived too long and had used up all her tears. Why was she thinking too much? Why was the boy staring at her in silence? He didn't seem to understand her.
"I was watching you fight," he said in Twenglish. "You don't like men, do you?"
"I like them well enough," she replied in Twenglish, surprised one so young should speak it so well, surprised it came so easily to her own tongue. She had watched too many old flat movies, especially as a kid. She had learned the old version of English because she had lived too long and was too bored. There was so much entertainment media and historical data in Twenglish, and watching the pitiful dubbed versions with the graphic lip corrections was never as good as the original, especially with the historical data often available with a good language augment.
He was adorable! Her repressed maternal person rose from the dead. That was a delicious surprise! Maternal, indeed! The child's dark eyes studied her face and darted to other people in the gym, relentlessly inquisitive. He also had a little smile that was infectious.
"Are you augmented?" he asked.
"I have the usual Marine hardware. What happened to your leg?" She was horrified at the sight of his injury. It was a pleasant shock to feel so shocked. She hadn't believed the rumor, but here he was! She tried not to stare at the amputated leg with its automedic attached to the stump just below the knee.
"I'm not supposed to talk about it," he replied, shrugging apologetically. "Are you that good at martial arts, or is your security squad that bad? You beat all of them, one after the other."
"I don't like to lose." He had watched her for that long? Why? "Nor do I want incompetent people under my command. What's your name?"
"Sammy."
"My name is Jamie." She offered her hand to him.
"I know." He got up on his crutch to take her hand.
His hand felt so tiny in hers! He seemed genuinely pleased to meet her. She felt the same. He made her feel good. She hadn't felt good for a long time.
"You know my name already?" she wondered. "How did you know?"
Sammy shrugged again and kept his smile. Jamie was intrigued. He didn't look like he would tell her. Perhaps it was best not to act too much like a bullying Marine. Did she have subtlety to help her learn his secret? Probably not.
"Do you like to watch this type of activity?" she asked.
"I like to watch people. I don't like to see people hurt each other."
He had seen people hurt each other, Jamie thought. How many childless people educated themselves on theories of child rearing - and why did child rearing still need new theories? She had studied all of the literature, in ever fainter hope of one day becoming a parent. Violence was a major topic in the training of prospective parents. Someone was failing in their duty to Sammy.
"It isn't right to hurt someone," she said, "even when they might deserve it. Unfortunately, I'm a military police officer, and I often have to deal with violence." Jamie sat down and wiped the perspiration from her face and bare arms with her towel. The boy sat down next to her. Did he trust Marines that much, or had she lost some of her people repellent? "Did you come here to meet me? You seemed to be waiting for me to finish."
"I like to talk to people." Sammy smiled, making Jamie certain he was hiding something.
"I think that's an evasive reply." She spoke with mock seriousness. "I'm the Chief of Security on this ship, and I have to question suspicious persons. Why are you here? Are you related to someone on the crew?" She hoped she didn't frighten the child, although it still looked as if he was perfectly at ease with her. Maybe he instinctively knew how the sight of him made her feel. Children were so rare!
"I'm not related to anyone." Sammy looked pensive for a moment, then he smiled again. "You can't beat Zakiya."
"Who is she?"
"Sammy!"
Jamie looked for the source of the rude interruption. She saw the black uniform, the sparkle of diamond stars. "Admiral on deck!" Jamie announced, and jumped to attention.
The handful of military personnel using the gymnasium stopped their activities - if it was safe to do so - and came to attention. Sammy pulled himself up again and tucked his crutch under his arm. He waited for the admiral to approach, but the admiral stayed at the gym entrance.
"As you were," the admiral ordered.
Sammy waited. The admiral waited. Jamie relaxed and looked from boy to admiral, wondering what their relationship was.
"I think she wants you to leave, Sammy." She was disappointed that he would be leaving.
"I thought she would want to meet you," he said.
Everyone wants to meet me, Jamie thought, even though she put out warning buoys and left disaster in her wake. Perhaps that was the attraction, and she attracted the wrong kind of people. Who was this admiral, and what the hell was she doing with a child? She should have studied the ship's roster more closely. Khalanov was the only admiral she knew was aboard.
Sammy moved away from Jamie, using his crutch as a second leg, which looked dangerous to her. Gravity plates could be inconsistent. She stayed close, concerned for his safety. She looked up and saw the admiral carried a second crutch that Sammy must have abandoned.
Their eyes met. She couldn't look away from the admiral, until Sammy stumbled and both women rushed to catch him. Jamie was closer and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.
&nb
sp; "Two crutches, Sammy!" the admiral said reprovingly in Twenglish. She handed him the second crutch as Jamie released him. When Sammy took the crutch the admiral let her eyes move back to Jamie.
"Lieutenant Jamie Jones," Jamie said, snapping a salute, trying not to get trapped again by the admiral's eyes.
/
"Demba," Zakiya replied. She swallowed her maternal urge to reveal herself to her daughter. It was too soon! The ship needed to sail first. So Jamie was who Sammy was looking for as he explored the ship! How had Sammy seized on Jamie's name, then connected it to someone on the ship? He must have had help, and she thought she knew who: Freddy.
/
The admiral returned Jamie's salute. Few admirals bothered to return the salute of a junior officer. Jamie had never heard one speak Twenglish!
"I'm the Security Chief, sir."
/
"Mission Commander," Zakiya said, keeping Twenglish as her language.
/
"Pleased to meet you, Admiral." Jamie also kept her words in Twenglish, taking the cue from Demba as an order. This is the Mission Commander? Jamie wondered. Not Khalanov? She cursed herself for concentrating too much on the dregs of Marine personnel she was given to lead, leaving the Navy officers largely out of her business.
She did a quick shiplink perusal of the Navy crew and found Demba at the top of the chain of command. She dared to keep the admiral waiting while she viewed a summary of the admiral's record. Former commander of Navy Archives? No recent ship duty? Demba was no better than Khalanov! Jamie was