I sat on the couch in the cabin for a while, I found that my P.A.D. was still more or less functionally hooking up to Galnet. It was having trouble displaying a lot of things, and crashing during searches though.
“Try setting your browser to legacy mode.” Torr told me, giving me a little start.
“Umm, okay. I'll see if that helps, thanks.” I changed the settings, it did help a little actually. “Could you not read over my shoulder though?”
“You may find it interesting that I cannot in fact, not read over your shoulder.” He replied.
“Lots of eyes but no eyelids?” I thought that was an astute observation.
“Indeed. What do you plan to do after your interview?” Torr wasn't looking for idle conversation though.
“I have no idea, play it by ear I guess.” I hadn't picked up on his shift in tone.
“Let me re-phrase: Do you intend to remain on-board this ship?” Torr noticed.
“You would rather I didn't, obviously.” I thought for a moment, trying to come up with some quip or something. Then I realized how much of a waste of both of our time that was. “I don't think that I really have a say in it, do I?”
“You may be correct.” If Torr had lungs, he would have sighed. “I can only suggest that you tread carefully and plan ahead.”
“Torr, I'm a reporter.” There was a sly smile forming on my face.
“The situation is debatable.” I think Torr would have had one too, if he had a face.
“No you artificial ass. I mean that my job depends on me treading lightly, and planning for contingencies.” I would have gladly broken down the nuanced differences with him.
“What are the differences?” I think he would have enjoyed doing so.
“How long you got?” A leading question.
“I would be glad to hear an explanation... Later. Ms. Valence has just informed me that the walls of her ship are thinner than she had realized.” I could faintly hear what I assumed to be him apologizing to her on the other side of the cockpit door while he said it.
“Oh, okay I can be quiet.” I whispered.
“Unless you have any specific requests, I would rather avoid any noise.” His reply came only slightly quieter. For all the things Torr could do, he couldn't really modulate the volume of his voice.
“Why don't you call her Commander Valence?” This was in fact the best chance I'd gotten to ask that good question I'd come up with a few days before.
“She was not yet a Commander when we first met.” I was leading into it though.
“Not missus?” Torr paused before answering, realizing what I was asking.
“No, she is not.” He eventually let me know.
I managed a nap, mostly just stayed quiet back there and laid on the couch. I got my recording software readied, made sure my P.A.D. was fully charged. Then after waiting for another few hours I took a shower and got the suit all ready and on. Then I sat back on the couch and waited a few more hours.
Suddenly Valence emerged from the cockpit still dishevelled from sleep. She silently wandered towards the table in the middle of the cabin and pulled two packets of coffee and another of something edible from it's cupboard. Then she wandered around and muttered until she found her shopping bags. She carried this all out of the cabin into the wet-room, where the sonic shower was.
Nearly two hours later she returned. She was wearing a long white dress over her flight-suit, with a side button, pleated red shirt over that. Her final layer consisted of a regal blue tailed coat, with buttoned cuffs and epaulettes. Her collars were carefully nested.
She had done her hair in the paired vertical ponytail style from Panem. The ties were black, matching the small bunched scarf filling her collar. A ponytail didn't really fit the outfit, two didn't either. But I had to ask about it, the style had nearly died out with it's place of origin three decades ago.
“I like your hair.” She seemed startled by my compliment, I pushed on. “Where did you learn the style.” The layering was very specific, and she'd nailed it.
“Oh... When I was little my aunt would do it this way.” She ran her fingers back from her temple, tracing the edge of the layered hair.
“I understand.” I nodded knowingly. She squinted at me.
“Understand what? What about my hair?” Her eyes turned intense suddenly. She wasn't upset, just extremely confused.
“It's from Panem isn't it? I didn't mean anything by it.” I explained quickly.
“It is? Torr do you know?” She pulled the lower ponytail over her shoulder and held it protectively.
“I am not finding much, this is an extremely esoteric search.” The robot admitted.
“It's nice, I like it. Maybe you'll bring the style back.” I held up my hands defensively. “Your aunt never talked about Panem, anything like that?” She brushed her hands through her ponytails for a moment as she answered.
“No, nothing... You mean, from Panem before it was bombed in the early thirty three hundreds?” She let her hair fall back from her shoulder and into place.
“Yeah, that's what I mean.” They started just before Christmas.
“Alsus.” She said slowly.
It's Imperialis for 'cool' I asked Torr later.
“I didn't know.” To her it was fascinating, only history. I remember arguing with people who believed in bombs that couldn't kill anyone.
“You look nice.” I didn't bother mentioning the miss-match of tied hair and a gown either.
“Thanks, I like your tie.” She looked me over making a face. “Are you going to tuck your pants in?”
“I'm trying to pass these boots off for dress shoes.” I was doing a good job.
“They're dress boots.” Valence wasn't sure why.
“Exactly, I'm trying to go for understated, unassuming.” I adjusted the plain kelvin knot I'd tied. “I'm a reporter, I need to go unnoticed at these things.”
“Whatever you say, mister Kenji.” She rolled her eyes at me. “So if you're such a fashion expert, where should I put this?”
She was turned away from me and looking over her shoulder. A small pistol held slightly aloft in her hand.
The image of her triggered serious deja-vu, for some reason. I ignored it to give the correct answer.
“Your purse.” She grinned at me.
“I don't carry a purse.” It was like she knew she was giving me the deja-vu, or something.
I pulled open one side of my jacket and mimed concealing a gun inside. Her smile widened and she turned around, placing the gun in it's holster hidden in her armpit. She was doing a bit, she'd managed to trick me into playing a little part in it. It was only then that I recognized it.
“So, Captain Stephanie DuHart?” Valence was aghast.
“How the hell do you- wait. Is it obvious?” She gripped the edge of her coat-tails for a moment.
“What?” Her surge of worry had unseated me slightly.
“Is it that obvious where this jacket is from?” She implored me.
“Well you did the quote and the pose and everything, come on.” She started to look a little upset. “No it's not obvious, you don't have knee-high boots, or a tail or anything. I didn't even notice until you did the bit.”
“Are you lying to me?” Valence isn't the best at judging honesty, she knows this about herself though. Her hand traced along the hem of her jacket, closer to her gun, as she asked.
“No.“ I held my palms up. “Is this one of those things you like, from thirty years ago again?”
“No, I just had this jacket from a convention.” She looked down. “I- uhm, watched the show when I was a kid.” Her arms fell to her sides.
“It broadens your shoulders, and offsets the femininity of your gown with strength. Colors work well too.” I rattled off quickly, so I could ask a suddenly pertinent question. ”DuHart is a kids show now?”
“Uhm...” She nodded, I'm not sure what I'd said that she was responding to. “What was it thirty years ago?”
“Holo-feature series, gritty-action stuff.” It was a little low brow, flashy and fun. If it had been trying to do so, a solid piece of Federal Propaganda could have been made of it. It was camp enough to potentially be tongue-in-cheek though.
“Holy shit, I have to see that. I love gritty cartoons.” Valence was enthused, I was shocked.
“It's a cartoon now?” A flurry of emotions shot through Valence's face, before she held up her hands and took a tiny calming breath.
“We don't have time for this right now, but we have to finish later.” She pointed towards the egress ramp. “We gotta go, we're cutting it close as it is.”
I followed her off of her ship and started walking towards the tram station. She called me back, and pointed to the car waiting at the edge of the landing pad. It was enclosed and black, sleek. Not literally a limousine, it was normal length. Very luxe though.
Valence seemed worried during the trip through the Star-port. The car had magnetic wheels, and we drove through the central spire. The driver asked us to fasten our lap-belts until gravity returned. I'm getting off topic, but I'd never done that before. I don't even think most Star-ports have that.
“Why so worried, not packing enough heat?” I'd learned fairly quickly after setting foot off Korwei that all Commanders were by their nature paranoid people, to some degree or another.
“Oh there's nothing to worry about at this place. Just habit.” Most of them even knew it.
“Then, why the face?” I'd say she looked like she was steeling herself for battle, but Valence was actually more comfortable in a dogfight, than she was in that limo.
“I don't really enjoy going to the fleet-meet deals.” She sighed.“ Too much politics.”
“How into the politics are you?” I asked in response to a crazy thought I had: What if I'd fallen into the hands of a Commander who held some kind of rank?
“As little as possible. Haven't done nothin' like this for a few years, actually.” She answered with a look on her face like she'd smelled something kind of rank. Reality befell me again.
“You worried someone's going to make a big deal, about that?” She gave me a sideways glance after I'd asked, it was a well aimed question.
“Yeah.” She answered quietly.
There really wasn't much I could say, or do about that. I sighed, so did she. Before too long we were there. The driver pulled up and stepped out to open the door.
“If we lose each other at the party, regroup at the bar.” She cracked her neck and fixed her posture.
The door opened to reveal a medium sized throng split in half by a carpet the same blue I wasn't supposed to wear. Valence swiftly stepped out of the car and started power-walking to the entrance. The venue was a relatively small hotel in one of the swanky districts in the hab-ring. I had to hurry across the seat and try to follow her.
I'd never been on that side of those velvet ropes before, it was weird. I was too fascinated by the fact that Paparazzi were focusing on Valence, to immediately notice they were focusing on me as well. I fought the urge to run towards her and just walked as quickly as I could. I lost her in the few seconds it took me to reach the doors.
Chapter Eleven
The lobby opened into a greater hall that was filled with banquet tables and a stage opposite. The place was packed, but for all the activity it was fairly quiet. I pressed through towards the hall until I could see the stage. A ceremony was underway, possibly a memorial hologram was being displayed. It was some fleet iconography.
It shut down and a man stepped forward, he was wearing a white floor length jacket, and a tricorne hat, both trimmed with what I was surmising to be Protectorate Blue. He wasn't familiar to me with his ancient face, or his lengthy mess of white hair. Not until he spoke.
“I have a long list of people to mention, but first allow me to thank everyone for making the Eighth Annual Veterans Fundraiser Gala a huge success.” Time sounded like it had robbed Captain Wald of some of his bombast, only a little though.
He continued his speech, I realized that I had some waiting to do before I even had a chance. Hopefully I could see the stage from the bar. I found a waiter and asked where that was.
“The hotel bar is currently cordoned off as the V.I.P. Lounge, sir.” His tone implied that it was obvious I wasn't allowed in.
“Oh, I see. It's just that my date told me to meet her there. Her name's Valence.” I went for it, worst that could happen was nothing.
“I'm sorry sir, right this way. Commander Valence is already waiting for you.” I decided to worry about what I hadn't been told about her once it stopped being so convenient.
She must have sprinted straight to that stool, judging from how much of her sparkling wine was already gone. The lounge wasn't completely empty, but nobody else was sitting at the bar.
“If Zero is 'folk-hero to half of a backwater', and Ten gets you on that stage with a microphone in your face. Where are you, Commander?” I gestured for a glass and received one quickly, she poured before giving her reply.
“Why ain't Zero 'Nobody'? Your scale's all fucked up.” Her speech was slurred more by her hands propping up her chin than the alcohol.
“That scale is for Commanders. My scale goes from 'space-hobo' at Zero, all the way to 'writes a book nobody reads' at Ten. I wouldn't complain if I were you.” Expensive booze tasted off, it was probably my palette though.
“I'd read a book 'bout someone like that; getting back on track.” She mused as she poured two more glasses.
“How about a historical write up about a war that didn't matter?” I asked the wine as I let it go flat.
“My dad once showed me a thing like that, it was from early twenty-first century Sol.” She sipped her drink. “He was usually busy, so when he was around he always tried to make an impression.” Valence smiled a thin, bittersweet smile.
“Historical data fragment? There's a lot of fake ones of those, well there were. I dunno.” I was skeptical, but trying not to be rude about it.
“No this was archived, backed up and kept archived since it was made.” I gestured for her to continue with her story. “It must have been important to people.” She went back to her drink.
“What was so important about it, was it about some turning point in history?” She was doing a bad job of telling her own story.
“Barely, a step up in a border conflict. One side took the upper hand in the water. Oh get this; they had ships that could only be on the surface of water, they couldn't fly or anything. And it took centuries to get them submerging, even.” She shook her head.
“Well, why was this recording still around?” If she hadn't been sharing the wine I would have been less patient.
“If I had to guess I would say; because it was fucking awesome to listen to.” She said quietly, staring into the middle distance.
“Go on.” She'd intrigued me.
“Well, I had no idea who the forces were supposed to be, but the gist of it was the narrator was a generation removed from one of the soldiers from the battle. And that their whole plan was like something out of a holo-show, but it worked perfectly.” The recording was playing again in her memory, she was happy then.
“So the narrator had an ancestor at the battle?” My question was just in an effort to get a glimpse too.
“Oh the narrator was just great, really good storyteller. It wouldn't have been so entertaining without that guy talking. But the whole thing was just a series of desperate ploys and people being in the right place at the right time.” She took another sip. “They had this experimental time-bomb hidden in a faked enemy ship, and rammed it into a maintenance bay.” Valence was giving me the bullet points of a favorite bed-time story.
“That sound's a little far-fetched.” I led her on.
“That's not the half of it; the guy who invented the bomb was on the ship, and ended up having to take the helm for the final approach.” A tiny glimmer of intensity washed over her eyes.
“I think this might not have actually happened, Valence. Don't get me wrong, this is a bad-ass story but-” My inner skeptic took over, and was promptly interrupted.
“That's not the point.” She emptied her glass then refilled it. “Even if it was fiction, the presentation was just so... Just the right kind of... Ahh, I don't know.” She didn't have the words, it seemed.
“Memorable?” Suddenly the moral of her story was dawning on me.
“Like that, but bigger, maybe.” She meant inspiring, I shut up and drank more of the fancy fizzy wine.
“Is that Commander Valence?” A booming voice came from the entrance to the bar.
Her shoulders sank, she finished her drink. Then she lifted herself out of the seat.
“Laertes, what do you want?” She crossed her arms and faced him.
The man she called Laertes was tall, robust. Wearing a grav-assist harness over his black flight-suit. He had an entourage of five people with him. They were all wearing high-top boots, and brightly colored jackets ranging from bright yellow to a dark red. Except Laertes, he was handing an orange trench-coat to the man standing at his side.
“I'm here to challenge you to a duel, a true Imperial lady should have no qualms with that.” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue.
“I... I Don't want to fight, anyone.” She balled her hands into fists a couple of times.
“Only in dark secluded space-station corners then?” Laertes smiled with his accusation.
“You don't know what your talkin' about.” Valence's stance widened very slightly.
“I know a contact of mine is dead, and I think you did it.“ He pulled the sword from it's sheath, being presented by another of his entourage. “I hope you remembered to bring a blade.”
Muttering under her breath, Valence pulled her coat off and threw it at me, then rolled up the sleeves of her blouse. She was still wearing her little pack and harness under there. Twin holsters concealed, just like Captain DuHart. She plucked a small object from her belt and flicked it open. It was a switch-knife. She tossed it from hand to hand tentatively.
“Traditionally, one carries a sword.” He mocked.
“She was carrying her's.” They all looked at me, I drank some more of the wine.
“Pete, shut up.” She hissed through her teeth at me. Laertes eyed me suspiciously, until the lackey holding a sheath spoke up, then Laertes eyed him.
“Listen up you-” He gestured at me with the scabbard. “Wannabe tabloid chaser. Free tip: know your place and watch.” His boss lost his stern expression and gave a slight nod of approval over this.
“Yeah.” He turned his attention back to Valence. “It will be a quick show, but quite the story.” Laertes' face returned to being stern.
“Oh, get over yourself Laertes. Back to back, let's do this.” Valence rolled her eyes at the man and started to approach him.
He seemed taken aback by her sudden callousness, but recovered quickly and appointed his favored goon the job of counting them in. As the two Commanders pressed their spines together, the rest of the entourage took up places at the bar. They were giving me some breadth.
Laertes brandished his sword, it was the kind of cutlass I would have pegged for a pirate's. But I was willing to entertain the idea that a certain Captain had changed that trend. Valence had the knife in her left hand, blade down. Unlike the man towering behind her she wasn't adopting any sort of martial stance or anything. She just had drooped shoulders and a sad expression. I started to worry a little as the man holding the scabbard started to count down.
Just before he reached 'one' she lifted her right leg, and brought her arms up with bent elbows. The next and final number had scarcely exited his lips when the mobility-rig she wore came to life. She was thrown to the ground, but had readied her foot to catch herself, she used her right palm and left knuckles as well. Then she curled her left foot up next to her right.
Laertes more or less got kicked in the lower back with four legs that could each at least lift her. He did a lot of damage to the table he landed on. She wasn't done though, she leaped backwards from her place on the ground, the legs lifting her across the room and rolling her over. She made equal use of the ceiling and floor for footholds.
She came down with her left foot on his hand, she wasn't a larger person but the pair of legs pressing against the ceiling were on her side. His sword was still in his hand, but not the free one. She punched the side of his helmet and his face-plate detached. Hooking her fingers under the back-plate, she pulled his head up a little and crouched the rest of the way down. Her knife was close enough to be a threat, but not enough to be threatening. This had all scarcely taken an instant.
“That's cheating, fuck you!” She rolled her eyes in response to him. A tense murmur passed through his cronies at the bar.
“Fuck me? You got that fuckin' exoskeleton on, an' I didn't say shit. Actually, you know what?” As an immediate answer to her own question, the top right and bottom left mechanical limbs swiftly clipped into the corresponding wrist and ankle of her flight-suit. The lower left one took up the opened spot on the ceiling, and she curled her right leg like a dancer.
Then she started to stand up, pulling his right hand away from his head. Maybe it was vise-versa. She put her knife to his face and drew blood from his cheek. He could barely squirm. His free hand was occupied by scratching at the neck of his flight-suit.
“Another off-handed one Laertes. You have more than just mine here.” She give him a final painful looking stretch before dropping him.
The rig retracted and she stomped over top of him. He was sputtering and tearing open his collar. Valence nearly tread on her skirt, so she slowed down. She stowed her knife and gripped at her clothing with her hands to finish clearing the broken bits of table. She was leaving though, not returning to the bar.
I stood up and took a half step to follow her, before I caught myself and grabbed the bottle. Laertes was being helped back to his feet as I followed her out. She stormed from the bar and across the lobby, I had to fight to keep up. She reached a little hallway leading away from the open foyer and darted down it.
I found her swearing at a locked restroom door, rather loudly. I offered her jacket, she glared at me for a fleeting moment before her eyes softened and she took it.
“That fucking ass-hole made me tear my skirt.” She muttered as she shrugged her coat on.
“What?” bemusement cut into my voice.
“With my Rig...” She showed me the ragged split running along where her left leg had been met by the mechanical one. “Laertes is such a cunt.”
Valence threw the hem down and crossed her arms defensively. She looked like she was about to cry. I offered her the bottle.
“You know you're awesome, right?” She pierced me with her eyes. “You just won a sword-fight with a pocket-knife!”
“Oh, fuck you. Don't make fun of me.” She snatched the bottle from me and took a swig.
“I'm not!” She continued to stare me down. “I'm not, not at all.” She took a less agitated drink.
“Oh, so you just got a thing for girls who hurt people?” Her accusation sounded resigned.
“Where did that come from? Who taught you it was wrong to hold your own out here?” The alcohol in me stopped me from filtering that. Probably for the best though.
“You... Didn't answer my question, Pete.” Quieter, calmer maybe. I wasn't as sure that she was angry with me anymore.
“No. That's not what I'm into.” A serious answer, I was guessing at the tone of her question.
“Then what are you into?” It was more an accusation than flirting, but still a little of both. She caught me off guard.
“You uh, didn't answer my question.” If I could fake-stoic my way through guns and duels, I could keep a straight face while she fumbled through hitting on me.
She blushed a little then paled. Then she took another drink.
“I don't uhm... I don't wanna talk about it.” I think she was wrong about that. “They've wrapped up the speeches, you know.” My eyes bulged.
“Oh shit, did they?” I started to panic a little.
“Chances are the bar's packed by now. Everyone will be in there.” She sniffed her runny nose into submission. “I'll meet you back at the ship.”
“You're gonna be okay.” She agreed with me hesitantly, thought I was asking.
Chapter Twelve
The lounge was indeed packed, in a few short minutes they'd cleared the broken furniture and started the after-party. This hotel knew what they were doing. Trying to slip through the crowd unnoticed, I was catching the attention of anyone whose eyes fell on me. There was one guy wandering around wearing less color than me, but black and white quartered tuxedos are still quite flashy. My attempt to dress down had me standing out like a sore thumb. I should have taken her seriously about the boots too, everyone else was displaying high-tops of varying levels of ornateness. Might have pulled it off with the boots showing, I should have gotten the red jacket.
“You must be the reporter.” He spotted me through the crowd, and shook me from my faux-pas induced trance. He was sitting at the bar.
“Is it that obvious?” I produced my P.A.D. and shrugged as I made my way towards Captain Wald. The rest of the seats were filled also.
“You dress like my Grandpa. I mean, I think you look awesome, but...” He gestured at me vaguely, the group around him enthralled. “You kinda look like a cartoon detective or something.”
His entourage laughed at my expense. That was fine, it was endearing me to them to take it in stride.
“Since we're already at this stage of the game, mind if I just show my hand then? I want an interview.” He seemed to appreciate that, the entourage didn't. “You know that, and I got this far. So I suppose the answer is probably yes.”
“You're right. That's why you were allowed in the car.” Wald answered smugly.
“I figured as much. That's why I'm already recording.” Holding up the P.A.D. I answered in a similar manner.
“Okay Pete Kenji, we've already started your interview, are you going to ask any questions.” He steepled his fingers and crossed his legs. Learning my name was a trick that wears off after it happens to you a few times.
“Captain Brent Wald, I want to ask you about a race. It was a long time ago, so you might not remember.” He pulled his fingers apart suddenly.
“Admiral.” He leaned forward, the other people sitting at the bar suddenly became much less interested in our exchange. “That's Admiral Brent Iovianus-Wald.”
“I'm-” He cut me off, nearly touched his nose to mine.
“I remember the race.” He fell back to a comfortable lean against the bar. “Doing you a favor here: this is now a hole that you are in.” He gestured around a little. “Stop digging.”
“I'm sorry, Admiral. My notes are out of date, no offense was meant.” He squinted at me dangerously, I pressed on. “I'm glad you remember that race, because I want to talk to you about where you were before it. Were you docked at Jameson Memorial?”
“Yes.” He just wanted to hear my next question.
“Did you see the riot?” I don't think he was expecting that one.
“Yes.” His intensity was leaving his voice, but he was still glaring at me.
“What can you tell me about it?” The Admiral took a moment to consider the question.
“It was an exciting evening, almost fun.” He wasn't expecting this line of questions, but he was ready for anything.
“'Almost'?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“We had civilians with us, a couple of ships docked. It was a lot to keep track of.” The Admiral wanted to know where I was going with this.
“Do you know who caused it?” He stopped squinting at me, but a strange intensity flared.
“Why are you here?” Normally I would have insisted on getting my answer first, but something about how he asked. That's not the kind of request you deny, even for a moment.
“I want to write about the people who stirred it up. I'm trying to research a conflict between them and EXO.” It was later that I made the connection, but that was me giving my own defence plea.
“You came here, to me, to ask if I know anything about the Church of The Space Cat?” The Admiral spoke like he wanted in on the joke, or to know how angry he should be.
“Yes.” Admiral Wald was taken aback, I thought by my candor. In reality, he hadn't met a perspective like mine in years.
“Why me? No, actually, just why?” A wide grin spread across his face, suddenly I found B. Wald to be quite recognizable.
“Just picking back up where I left off, Admiral.” I gave him the truth, he thought I was dodging the question.
“Okay, in that case; why me?” He asked his question as he rolled his eyes.
“I left off by just missing you, then this sort of fell into my lap right afterwards. I think I would be remiss not to have tried.” He nodded sagely, but I don't think he was actually sure what I meant by that.
“Alright. But why the Church of The Space Cat, how did you even pick that old thread up?” His bemusement told me some things about how old a thread it was.
“I'd just missed you at the race. I have to say I'm glad to see you survived, it looked like a war-zone.” He looked me over once again, fitting the pieces together in his mind.
“Well... Shit!” He leaned over the bar, ordered two shots of Indi Bourbon. “Been out and about long?”
“About a week.” His order arrived, he gave half of it to me. “Thanks.”
“To cryogenic technology, and a wonderful disregard for safety.” He tapped his shot glass against mine.
“Who's disregarding safety?” I asked once the liquor was gone.
“The Commander who blew your lid.” He gave a tiny shake of his head. “Seeing as how you're unstuck from time, you happen be in a unique position.”
“What's that?” I knew that I was, I wondered where he saw me.
“I'm going through with your interview. The Church was only implicated in the riot by rumors, as best as I could tell.” I was pulled hard, back into the interview proper.
“What triggered the riot, was there a killing, or some terrorist threat or-” He shook his head to stop me.
“A group of pilots showed up trying to smuggle Meta-Alloy into Jameson.” He sighed. “Customs stopped them.”
“Meta-Alloy? Wait, are you telling me the molluscs in the Pleiades were real?” If I was being asked to accept the Alliance having a real fleet and pulling off this party, that somehow seemed almost reasonable.
“You didn't know? Yeah, they were real all right.” He watched my eyes as my understanding of the 'Pleiades Territorial Conflict' came into new light. “Back then, nobody really understood how any of that worked. Jameson wasn't completely down and out from malfunctions, not by a long shot. So local authorities were just trying to play it safe.”
“So they stopped these ships with the alloy, how did that turn into a riot?” There were a lot of old rumors that I would need to run past Torr over this, to see what panned out.
“Those alloys could have been put to use fixing the station. Oh, what were they calling it back then?” He paused. “Immunized against the Techno-plague.” He chuckled. “Cops who did the stop probably didn't even know what was in those holds, just that it was illegal.” I nodded, he continued. “People on the ground who were trying to get the stuff delivered, they knew what it was. They'd told people it was coming, people wanted their problems fixed. When the cops stand in the way of that, things get hairy.”
“The malfunctions occurring at Jameson, what sorts of things do you mean?” having heard everything between 'Nothing but hearsay from morons' and 'Creeping alien biomass consuming the whole station' I had no idea what to believe.
“The first real sign was replaceable parts going on you too fast. Voltage regulators, fuses, blow off valves. Things that let go so something bigger doesn't, those would start to wear out impossibly fast. In the final stages, entire sub-systems would die and need replacing only to die again after a few hours. Every component blown out.”
“Where was Jameson at?” At least some of what I'd heard was madness, thank the gods it was looking like the bits that sounded the part too.
“The Memorial was only just starting to see problems, it was only just starting to tax the maintenance crews.” The Admiral explained solemnly.
“So it was only the slums that had to suck it up.” He didn't correct me. “Any idea why the Church was being implicated?”
“I'm gonna guess that you already know a gathering of them was happening at the time. So I guess the answer you want is: people considered them an authority on the Meta-Alloy and the Artifacts.” I knew that they considered themselves that...
“I thought people were afraid of them, thought they were linked to the spread of the uh, Plague.” I had to remind myself not to say 'alleged plague' anymore.
“That is also true.” He nodded sagely.
“That isn't a very straightforward answer.” I knew what he meant, but that only served to confuse the situation.
“If straightforward is the kind of answer you get to a question about history: you've been lied to.” The Admiral slipped me a fantastic piece of advice.
“You were parked alongside two other Commanders, did you know them?” I decided to go a little deeper.
“I did, why are you asking about them?” His suddenly defensive tone caught me off guard.
“Hopefully lining up more interviews.” I explained as casually as I could.
“Come with me.” He stood up and started walking away.
“Did I offend you?” When I spoke up the group of people at the bar hushed and Wald stopped walking.
“I was not asking, Patrick.” I shut up and followed him. That version of the trick would have surprised me thirty years ago.
He marched across the lobby towards the washroom, it was either locked again or still. Waldo slammed his fist against the door once.
“Be quick, please.” He said loudly through the door.
In a moment a couple stepped out from the washroom, both with their visors closed and hastily replaced formal attire. Both muttering apologies to the Admiral as they passed. He held the door for me once he was done pointedly not looking at the pair leaving.
“I like it when gambling pays off like this.” He announced as he locked the door behind us.
“You don't get interviews very often?” I was still hoping not to be stabbed or shot.
“Not ones like this. You want to interview my old crew?” His bemused question calmed my worry.
“They were your crew, I knew it!” His face lit up when I said it. “I've wanted to interview Commander Eidolon since I first heard of her, who wouldn't. I did interview your Altairian friend, but I screwed it up, need another.” I spat out answers in excitement.
“You... Wait, where did you hear of Eidolon?” Neither of them were well known, under Wald's shadow. He seemed to have a little trouble deciding which of the two he was more surprised to find I knew about.
“She saved my home once.” He looked at me expectantly, understanding shading his expression. “I don't think she knows anything relevant to my book, but she was there and I want to meet her.” The Admiral sighed.
“I'm sorry Pete.” He'd been there too, but not the way she was there.
“Why?” He looked at me for a long moment, through a years old sorrow.
“I can't hook you up with an interview with The Raptor, she's dead.” It had been a pipe dream within a fever, but still that chance was gone.
“Do you know how?” Give me something, damn-it.
“I don't.” He didn't pause when he said it, but the beginning and end of the universe took place between these words. “All I know is; that Altairian friend of mine, he told me she died a hero.”
I have to stop for a moment each time, when I look over this or listen to the recording. Then I didn't pause, then I barely let him finish speaking.
“Where is he?” I begged, getting drunk before the interview may have been a poor choice.
“He could be a jump away, could be twenty-two thousand light-years.” I didn't know what that meant yet.
“Gods damn it!” I almost stopped recording. “Not again.”
“What do you mean, again?” He leaned in and looked me in the face, like a worried father.
“I missed this once, this second chance is all I have.” Indi Bourbon was strong but it took a minute to kick in properly.
“You haven't missed him, it just might eat a bunch of your time. He lives in Colonia, but he's a Space-Trucker. He could be anywhere between there and The Bubble right now.” Wald explained calmly, I blinked back the tears.
It was strange to be torn between the relief and the confusion.
“What do you mean 'Between there and the Bubble'?” Once I'd collected myself I asked the pertinent question.
“You don't know about Colonia?” I shook my head at him. ”When did you get frozen?”
“I was being literal when I said I just missed you. I went into the pod a matter of hours after that race ended.” He knew what those thirty years meant, I could see in his eyes that he knew. But he swept through that horror to bring me straight to something beautiful instead.
“Okay, short version of a pivotal moment in Human history. Pete Kenji, are you ready, too bad!” He put his left arm around my shoulders, it felt bony under his jacket but he was strong. “So I guess you know about Jaques' Big Jump. Well the crazy Son of a Toaster goes through with it, but ends up lost in the fucking void! People round the Bubble barely had time to reel with that shit, and start planning their mopey speeches. When the greatest explorer who ever flew the Deep Black; I shit you not, spots the Star-port by eye while mapping nebulae near the core!”
“For real?” It sounded a little far-fetched.
“I don't lie, not about things like this.” He winked at me.
“What was his name?” They were someone's hero.
“Oh I don't even know if they were a man or a woman. They call them Commander Cly.” He nodded and smiled for a moment before adding. “Or Commander Sly.”
“Pardon me, Admiral?” He had a way of answering questions by raising more.
“It's spelled with a C but I've heard people pronounce it both ways.” He explained.
“What did they have to say about that?” It seemed crazy.
“After sending a message or two back to the Bubble and a short liaison with Galnet, Commander Cly was never heard from again.” Just like the kind of person who could spot a lost Star-port by eye, crazy.
“What happened to Jaques Station?” It wouldn't have been trivial, but a rescue operation wouldn't have taken a year.
“Colonia happened.” He pulled back the sleeve on his right arm revealing a bracer like the one Valence wore. My suspicion was confirmed when a hologram projected from it.
It was a map of the Galaxy, in many ways not unlike ones I'd seen so many times before. The Bubble was not nearly as spherical as it had once been. Several systems marked for importance were new to me, but not all. The string of them leading off towards the core were new, and the only slightly smaller second cluster of population near the base of the Sagittarius arm was a bit of a surprise.
“This is Colonia. Jaques had lots of friends who were glad he wasn't dead. Most of them were more than willing to bring him a few necessities, or luxuries if they were going to be passing through.” With that, Admiral Iovianus-Wald explained away thirty years of hard work and determination.
“People stayed out there?” But he didn't give me an inkling as to why.
“Some people had to, some people wanted to.” He said, like that was enough.
“No I mean, why wasn't a rescue mission set up, why bring more people out there instead of back to the Bubble. I-I don't understand.” It was so big, I couldn't fit the whys and the hows into my head.
“You haven't seen it.” I gaped at him. “You'll understand when you see it.”
“'When'?” He knew my plan before I did.
“Yeah, I'm out of answers Pete. You want to get your next interview, you'd better get yourself out to Colonia.” He was right.
“I have another question, I need to know for completeness.” That's what reporters call personal curiosity.
“Go on.” He knew that.
“The three of you parked together, but arrived and left at different times, and she wasn't at the race. What was happening?” He took a deep breath before he answered, there was a lot to unpack.
“Eidolon was there en route to somewhere else, she never told me where. We met her by total chance.” He looked out into the middle distance. “I found out years later that Allan knew, he got all clammed up when I asked though. He knows more, but I've told you all that he told me.”
“So you and Allan, Commander Revenant, why were you two there?” Research into the days Wald had spent smuggling in and out of Epsilon Indi turned up more legend that history, even thirty years ago, any insight into that I could get.
“We were working a job together.” The Admiral quietly admitted.
“What sort of job takes your whole smuggling crew, several ships, and a group of civilians to Jameson Memorial? Was the race even part of that?” He was over-simplifying matters.
“The race was an integral part of our mission.” I suppose winning it wasn't, they didn't.
“Mission? What were you doing?” He realized he was being frustrating, he gave me an apologetic look.
“We were just trying to save the world, we almost did too.” His phrasing caught me, I almost asked: Who's world?
“Admiral, that doesn't make any sense.” I should have, but I instead led him back towards facts.
“No, you're right. All I wanted to do was make a difference, so I got wrapped up in a plot to smuggle slaves to freedom. Then I dragged Allan into it too.” His answer was steeped in candor and venom.
“You sound like you regret it, but why, that's very noble.” I didn't yet understand what had happened, then or after.
“Oh it sounds noble, because you imagine everything going according to plan.” He took a deep breath. “I can't regret it though, I just tell myself that people should be judged on how they fall.”
“It went south for the slaves didn't it, how many died?” That was the kind of question you ask to get a response, not an answer.
“It only took one death, and you still have it wrong Pete. He was my friend.” He gave me an answer, but showed no response.
“What about the slaves, how many-” His solemn reply shut me down.
“She survived.” I had so many more questions, but I knew he was done. He'd told me how to find Allan the Altairian, I could learn the rest from him.
“Thank you for your time Admiral Iovianus-Wald, this has been an interview to die for. It's been a long time since you earned it but, I also wanted to thank Captain B. Wald for coming to Korwei.” His expression softened a little and he nodded at me.
“Which of those two thanks weighs more?” He was used to identifying hollow gratitude, but not comparing varying degrees of fullness.
“The newer one does.” I didn't hesitate, he raised a surprised eyebrow at me. ”No offense, but you didn't pull a Seventy-Six hour sortie in a Vulture to keep my home in orbit.”
“I know I didn't. You're welcome, for whatever I managed to do.” I had to let him know that he had managed plenty, just less than The Raptor.
“You brought her.” He just smiled and mouthed 'Colonia' at me before leaving.
I stared at myself in the mirror after the Admiral left. At the time I just stirred the roiling pot of my thoughts until I was able to tell myself that I was still researching that war. I couldn't tell you how it made sense anymore, just that I needed it to.
Chapter Thirteen
Halfway through the lobby someone stopped me and handed me the story I thought I was after. He was scruffy and unkempt, wearing a worn-out fur overcoat. His fingernails were long, a tall glass clutched before him.
“Pete Kenji, you've heard the sound out of time?” He brought his drink to the lips buried under his beard. “The Great Meow favors the curious.”
“Do I know you?” I half expected him to start casting magic from his fingers and handing me a Jeweled sword.
“You used to know Prophet Larzok.” His eyes glinted. “Now only a Martyr.” Larzok was on my list, he was there before I printed it out at Jameson. Before then, he was the list.
“Who are you?” He had my attention, I gave him all of it.
“Just Poe.” He took another drink and shrugged. “When you were alive before, Angels and Demons walked the galaxy. Songs came from the ether, and visions were gifted.” That old Space-Cat tossed flowery scripture my way. But the last time I'd heard it there was an intensity and imperative to it that was gone from him.
“And people died.” I accused.
“And people died.” He agreed. “History was no more favorable to The Church than anyone else. Her songs are quieter than ever before.”
“What happened to Larzok?” I felt like I had to corral him if I wanted anything worthwhile.
“He never stopped hearing the songs. He never... lost his purpose. He wondered what could have been, if you two had met.” So do I Larzok, so do I.
“What happened, I need facts.” A phrase I had become accustomed to saying while trying to interview the Cats.
“We had an order of preachers and an order of warriors. We were loud and violent, people started to take notice. Our brothers from EXO were the first to try and quell us, but not the last. They were not the most successful either.” That was not the sort of reply I'd ever received, too straightforward. But for one detail.
“What do you mean 'brothers'?” He'd truly meant it too, the sorrow and regret in his voice was pushing to a crescendo.
“Kittens of the same litter.” He smiled faintly when my jaw dropped. “All of the founding Cats started as Wolves of Thirty-Three-Oh-One.” I saw hints of the past shimmering behind the old man's eyes. Exciting memories.
“I didn't know. I don't think anyone does.” His flood of memories came to a halt.
“Not anymore. The stars have drank much blood while you were dead, but the Great Meow has brought you back.” I let the old man think answering a few questions for me was of cosmic importance, what harm was there in that.
“EXO started the war didn't they?” I knew they were the first to openly declare it, but I was getting the impression the Church wasn't trying to antagonize them.
“It's never that simple Pete! A time of Heroes and Prophets and Martyrs is by definition a time of pain. A time of extremism.” He emptied his glass and took a steadying breath. “We were blinded, and we forced their hand. They couldn't hear the songs, so they didn't understand.” I was right, EXO was scared. They had to be, they were sane.
“Who are you Poe?” So far, all I knew was that he was proof that my assumption of the Cats being crazy didn't hold up. He was making too much sense, I needed to know more.
“Now I'm nobody, and it's taken more sacrifice than I care to admit to keep it that way. All you need to know is that I was there, and I could see both sides of It.” I could work with that.
“What gives you the impression that you had this unique perspective back then?” I didn't accuse, his answer could tear down that claim better than a counterargument.
“I never heard any songs, I held one of those fucking spores in my hands and listened as hard as I could, but I couldn't hear anything. I lied, but Larzok was telling the truth. He was my Prophet, and I still don't know how to deal with that I believe him. So much has changed.” Instead his reply secured the foundation.
“The Church is gone then?” His sigh set me up for a 'yes' that never came.
“Different, but never gone. Many of the old-guard are still around the Bubble. I couldn't tell you how strongly any of them still believe. We attracted some of the most dangerous people in the Milky-Way during the bad-times, and some of the most brilliant. A few of them even joined us.” It was a great answer, but really just told me how difficult research was going to get.
“Where are these people now?” Maybe with a little more help...
“Here, the Imperial Navy, quite a few keeping the peace over at Gal-cop.” He chuckled. “The really interesting thing is Pete, some crazy bastard ran away to Colonia during her nascency. Set up a new life for himself away from the violence and the hate and the confusion back in the Bubble. Brought his friends, his family. They just tried to live their lives, and not let their religion dictate their dealings with others... Anymore.” That hole got deeper, but his new subject caught my attention.
“What's so crazy about that?” It sounded like a reason to stay in Colonia. It was the first and best I'd heard.
“It was an idea that caught on.” He beckoned a staff member and gave them his empty glass. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my starry-eyed grandson and get the trip back home started. It's Twenty-Two thousand Light-years, don't ya know. So we have to hurry.” He laughed at his own joke and started to turn away.
“Poe, wait.” He stopped and looked back at me. “How did... Why are you here?” Of all the questions the Space-Cat had raised, I tried to distill the most important. It wasn't hard, It took a lot of time to travel a distance like that.
The old man choked up for a second then collected himself. After an aching pause he nodded to himself as if being convinced of something. He'd decided to answer me, I decided I'd done well with that question.
“I thought I heard a song, just an echo while I was falling asleep... Quietly and then it was, gone.” He breathed a sigh of relief as he looked at me over his shoulder. “I felt like an old fool, until... I heard you in the bar.” Casting a final smile at me, he marched away.
I remember at the time just stopping the recording and shrugging that off. Made like it was just him trying to get under my skin. Pretended I didn't know why I had trouble sleeping the next few nights. There was almost five minutes of dead-air at the end of that file.
I made my way back to the docking ring, actually I stopped and got a hot-dog printed at a cart near the transit station. Those Chef-Carts make the best hot-dogs, but I never want to learn why. It's probably something unhygienic. The guy running it actually gave me two hot-dogs for a cigarette, I needed to thank whoever banned tobacco. He even let me have condiments on them.
He asked me quite severely not to bring them into the station though. Said rules were rules and he didn't want to get in trouble for a mess I might cause. So I stood on the street and finished eating. That explained why public transit was clean now, I have to admit.
I took some time to consider the Alliance while I rode the tram. I figured it was something easier to worry about than trying to convince Valence about this journey. I couldn't imagine they were doing any better these days, not from what I'd heard. But we were two for two Star-ports looking better than the last time I'd seen either of them. Still, I reserved drawing any conclusions, a third 'port had been discounted after all. But I didn't need to compare to anyone to know that the Federation was doing things wrong, and now I hear they can't even boast that anymore.
The thing is though, I never really felt like a citizen of the Federation. I didn't even think I was legally considered a citizen of the Alliance, but as a point of technicality I wouldn't have felt like one if I was. There was a time supposedly long ago, when somewhere was my home. But I didn't have that anymore. The place was still there, mostly, but what made it my home wasn't. I envied Commander Valence, no that's not true. I just envied Commanders.
Chapter Fourteen
She was waiting in the cabin of her ship, a holo-show projecting from the table. She paused it as I entered. She was still wearing her formal attire.
“Your legs aren't broke! The interview went well!” Torr and I each let out single laughs of differing monotony.
“Yep, sorry I took so long.” I was still processing my experience, so that was about all I could say.
“Don't be, I left early.” She dismissed casually.
“Hey is that the cartoon?” I pointed at the paused hologram, I couldn't make out anything from where I was standing.
“No, I'm just watching crappy talk shows.” She shut it off. “Local stuff.”
“So... Umm.” She started waiting for me to finish.
“You going to stand there all day? Sit down.” She patted the couch next to her, I sat on the one opposite.
“I need to ask you something.” It was going to be tough, but I had to ask.
“If we haul ass we might do it in like, three weeks. But chances are we won't, so more like a couple of months, plus any delays.” She replied casually, evidently the Admiral and Valence were in contact about me.
“What?” I was not ready for that, or her bold acceptance.
“Oh, what were you going to ask? Sorry.” She smiled at me.
“I was going to ask you if you could even do it.” I was blown away, she was crazy. Or had been ordered to help me. I was unsure which would be more worrying.
“Don't let this old boat fool you, we have some decent jump range under the hood.” I couldn't take it anymore.
“No Valence, what are you doing?” If she'd been ordered to do it, then that would be her answer.
“I-I don't understand. What... What's wrong?” She hadn't been ordered to transport me.
“How is this that simple for you?” That left her being out for something from me, or being unhinged.
“I just want to help.” She said defensively. “People head out to Colonia all the time.”
“Do you?” She broke eye contact.
“I- uhm... I...” Valence held her elbows.
“I'm not an idiot, I know dropping off the face of the Milky-Way for weeks at a time is rough for a Commander to recover from.” I gestured around. “This doesn't strike me as a cartographer's ship either.” I was pleading with her.
“Why is this all a problem for you Pete?” She muttered.
“Lexx would have taken over Fifty-Thousand Credits from me to get this far. What do you want?” She looked at me for a little while, trying to work out what to say.
“Something... New? Pete, you fell out of a box and asked to take me on an adventure...” She sighed then caught herself, her shoulders tensed. “Fuck, that sounded weird. Uhmm... I-I've got family living out by Colonia, it's an excuse to visit?” Valence laughed nervously.
“I would have started with the second one, and maybe left out the first one entirely.” Torr laughed at that one, only him though.
“I'm sorry Pete, if you wanted to walk away I'd understand.” She sounded used to saying that.
“You grossly overestimate my economic position in life Commander.” I tried for a reassuring smile.
“I thought it would be rude to ask, so I didn't.” It would have been, her heart was in the right place though.
“Honestly, I've been worrying about you leaving me a tab all week.” I forced a laugh, but it was true.
“Well don't Pete, I can afford food and shit.” I knew she could afford more, deciding to do so was the strange part.
“Okay well, honestly I'm still a little worried about why you're okay with that.” But I felt like I could tell her as much.
“Me too.” After letting that out, she blushed and looked away.
“Should I be looking for a new ride? How long are you going to-” She cut off my worried questioning.
“Pete, shut up. Could you just say thank you, and go back to not worrying about it?” Valence pleaded, resigned.
“I was pretending not to worry.” I always do. “Thanks Valence. I uh- Thanks.”
She switched the holo-show back on, It was someone foisting opinions about politics in response to nothing. She started to flip through programs absentmindedly. She wouldn't do this for anybody, but at the same time she might have done this for anybody. I suddenly realized that I was far less worried about the Twenty-Two Thousand Light-Year journey in a Cobra with her, than she was worried about it with me. Maybe she had been pretending not to worry when she was being so gung-ho about the trip.
“Could you show me the show?” The idea slipped into my mind.
“What, you mean Captain DuHart?” Valence sounded surprised.
“Yeah, I'd like to see it as a cartoon.” I had no idea. Valence gained a tiny excited smile.
“Actually, yeah I can.” She sat up and started looking through a cupboard full of data-keys. “I can show you the origin story, but that's like the fifth series.”
“How about the beginning?” She gave me a look like she thought it was a novel plan. I moved over to her couch.
Chapter Fifteen
They hadn't really changed her character design, she wasn't wearing an antiquated naval hat anymore though. The animation was styled to look like a printed comic book. It occurred to me that this was probably done for a nostalgic theme, but there was never a printed version that I knew of.
The show opened In-Media-Res, putting us in the middle of the action with DuHart fighting for her life through the halls of a large burning vessel. She was silently shouting for something, someone. Drowned out by the noise. Not much seemed to be out of place until there was a hard cut to a new scene. DuHart awoke in bed, frightened. This interpretation would prove quite different. They introduced the sidekick when she awoke as well, and tried to comfort The Captain.
It occurred to me that this was perhaps an animation not intended for children, and that they had invented this sidekick character. Stephanie used to have a first-mate, not a girlfriend. The Captain denied her nightmare and the episode continued.
“They get back to that.” Valence muttered.
In the next scene Captain DuHart and her new sidekick were walking the halls of a military facility. I asked Valence to pause it when Captain DuHart and her superiors began to converse in Latin.
“Oh right, I should put the subtitles on, my bad.” Valence apologized.
“Hold on, Captain DuHart's Imperial in this?” It wasn't alone, but was by far one of the most severe changes.
“She Captains the INV Queentia-Iactura. What did she used to be?” She used to be more carefree, and they usually hand-waved the details of her ship. Used whatever Vessels they could, for the scenes where they had to.
“She used to do wet-works for the Federal Navy.” I simplified the glaring difference.
“Hmm.” Valence made a satisfied sound and un-paused the holo.
Before long Captain DuHart had her mission for the episode. Moving an ambassador from one place to another. The show was introducing main cast and building up tone. It took me a minute to grasp that the setting being the very beginning of the thirty three hundreds meant that it was a period piece, rather than set in the Proverbial-Now.
The ambassador was eventually revealed to be a spy in disguise and a fight was had. There was a battle in orbit where DuHart was forced to disable a friendly ship that had succumb to subterfuge. Eventually the imposter was defeated, revealing himself to have been an agent of the Federation.
DuHart shot the imposter through his hostage, killing them both. The man being used as a shield was one of her bridge crew, he told her to do it. I expected him to at least have to repeat himself. The imposter was as startled as I was.
In the final scene DuHart stood in her quarters staring out into space. The sidekick embraced her and asked if all was well.
“I took this command to get away from choices like this.” DuHart said.
“You made the right choice, only a few died in the battle. Think of the planets you've saved today.” The sidekick wasn't a member of the Navy, just a civilian who lived in the Captain's quarters.
“I will have to.” Stephanie replied. “But I had hoped not to be adding to what I have to think about.”
Valence waited as the ending credits scrolled past. Eventually she got impatient and asked me.
“What do you think?” She savored her question.
“I thought it was a kids show.” Not many serious animated productions in the Federation.
“It is.” She shrugged.
“I guess Imperials give their kids more credit.” He would have liked it, when he was older.
“Did you like it?” I forgotten to give her a straight opinion.
“Yeah.” It would take some time before I could really put into words why, or how much.
“Is it really different from what you remember?” She looked at me expectantly while I pondered her question.
“She's a real character now.” I eventually managed.
“Pardon?” Valence was bemused by my reply.
“It used to be just action and one-liners. They changed her sidekick too.” They also were being unabashed with their relationship.
“How did they change her?” I'd misspoken, they'd invented her.
“DuHart used to have a big stoic guy who looked like a pirate as her first-mate. Mister Arrow was his name.” Valence made a sly face.
“Interesting...” She muttered.
“So do they explain where DuHart's girlfriend came from?” Valence smiled at me knowingly when I asked that.
“Oh yeah, in series five.” She served me a carefully meager answer.
“How many episodes of this are there?” They had produced almost thirty Holo-Shows back in the day.
“Oh I don't even know, They're producing a twenty-eighth series right now, actually.” Valence gave her reply casually, I was shocked.
“This show is current?” It had become somewhat of a staple in the Empire, with spin-offs and a handful of full length Holos produced as well.
“Well that episode first aired like twenty years ago.” I would later learn of the rocky and cult-ish beginnings of this production.
“How old were you then?” In that moment, an interesting question popped into my mind.
“I... Uhmm... I wasn't watching this yet.” I gave her an expectant look. “I'm twenty-two Sols old, this year.”
“So what, do you have a thing for older men?” I asked with a sly expression on my face.
“Uhm... I'm... Wait, how old are you?” Evidently I wasn't the only one of us to fail to consider things until too late.
“Twenty-seven.” Old enough to know better.
“You don't look that old.” Valence squinted at me.
“Thanks.” I chuckled. She stopped examining my face so closely.
“Should I put on the uhm, next episode?” I nodded, she did.
In this one the INV Queentia-Iactura discovered a damaged Federal Navy ship encroaching on Imperial space. It was framed as a mystery, with DuHart giving chase through the stars. It took them half the episode to even get a clean scan on the enemy ship. The writers had given the Farragut the name Hudson's Might, somewhat historically inaccurate. I'm not sure if this was done for humor or not, but I thought it was funny. The ass-hole wouldn't even have been president yet.
Stephanie DuHart knew the battle-cruiser she was chasing for some reason, she had her nightmare again. She was definitely calling someone's name, the sounds of battle were still drowning her out though. When she awoke this time, she told her sidekick that they were chasing a ghost ship. Eventually they caught up, the Farragut was nearly out of fuel and trying to bring a planet into it's weapons range.
The Queentia-Iactura resolved the Hudson's Might. DuHart's tactical officer brought the weapons online and called for battle stations. The lights on the bridge went red.
“Hail them.” DuHart said. Her bridge went silent.
“Captain, I-” She interrupted the comms officer.
“Hail them, now!” DuHart stood up from the captain's chair.
The Farragut ignored the hails until the Majestic had absorbed a pair of salvos. The first time Stephanie only repeated her order. The second, her tactical officer tried to remove her from command.
“One more time. Hail them!” She snarled, her hand hovering over the hilt of her sword. The tactical officer hesitantly nodded to the comms station.
Everyone but DuHart was surprised when the third attempt got a response. The main view-screen was taken over by a scarred old man in a black and red uniform. He was ranting that they didn't understand, that no-one did.
“Cease firing and power down your bombardment accelerator, we will escort you out of our space.” Stephanie had to repeat herself louder and louder until she was ranting the words back at the old man.
“Who are you to tell me-” He said this and DuHart had enough. Her anger turned to sorrow and she called to him.
“Damnit Arrow!” Her fists pounded uselessly on the console in front of her. “Don't do this! It doesn't have to be this way!” They had a panning shot of her, she was out of breath and her hair had become messy. The rest of the bridge crew visible behind her, all of them stunned. Some in awe, others horrified.
“But Stephanie, it already is.” Arrow lamented, before the view-screen unceremoniously returned to a view of the Farragut in the distance, and the world it was bearing down on.
There was a long close up of DuHart's face, she wasn't showing much emotion. Her pupils were dilating. The chaos and noise erupting on the bridge faded away until you could only hear her breathing. It started ragged, but steadied in a few short breaths. As she controlled her breathing the tiniest sound rose in volume: a cable under ever increasing tension. Timed to her first stable intake of air, the cable snapped.
“Fire the main lance!” Captain DuHart cried out, raising her voice above the cacophony on the bridge.
It cut to a shot from the ground, there were raid sirens blaring. Whoever put that sound effect in there did a good job. I remembered, sounds just like that. Someone's abandoned son was sitting on the pavement looking up, crying into the wanton panic around him. Then he noticed something, his face transitioned rapidly through awe into a smile.
Another view, from just behind the little boy's head. In the sky a little blue dot was killing a slightly bigger red one with a beam of light. The sirens went quiet.
The final scenes of the episode included DuHart's nightmare for a third time, only the old man from the view-screen was the one fighting through the burning halls instead of her. Arrow was clearly and desperately calling out, for her.
Stephanie shot awake again, eyes wild with fear. She turned to the space beside her on the bed, but could only watch her new sidekick peacefully sleeping.
I waited until the credits were rolling to turn to Valence, I had a lot of questions about what I'd seen. I also wanted to ask her how possible it would be to find some copies of the old version. I agreed, she had to see it.
But she'd fallen asleep, I was alone.
Chapter Sixteen
So I played the part of a hesitant pillow for a few hours, I almost convinced myself to try and start the next episode. Eventually she woke up, the change in her breathing alerted me. I don't think she remembered nodding off there. Realizing this was probably becoming as awkward for her as it already was for me, I made some sleep noises and kept my eyes closed while she crept off the couch.
Sounded like she got to the cockpit door before she stopped and walked across the cabin to the wet-room. She'd gone to change back into a sweater, I found a pile of formal clothing in there later. She went into the cockpit and stayed there for a while. Before too long though, her Cobra lifted off.
We were heading off to get a little refitting done to the ship. Mostly getting a Chef installed, some stuff under the hood I didn't understand. For the trip.
I used the time to ask Torr how Captain Wald became an Admiral. I was told that during the early Thirty-Three-Hundreds Brent Wald vanished from the public eye. He was next heard from in Thirty-Three-Oh-Six when it was announced that he had taken command of the Wintermoor near Alioth. He proceeded to unofficially work for the Alliance until he was requested by name in the call for diplomatic intervention in the Pleiades. He was granted Admiralty during the process of establishing the fleet.
The process sounded like nepotism to me, but I knew the times had been desperate and I knew Wald was a good man. I already had a suspicion he was connected to Delaine somehow too. I could only wonder how severed that connection truly was.
“How did he get his name changed?” Torr had alternated Wald's titles depending on when he was referring to.
“Admiral Wald married sometime during the early Thirty-Three-Hundreds.” He had also mentioned repeatedly how inconsistent the records were.
“He took his wife's name?” Not that unusual a practice, but it would have been comical to any other Alpha-Centaurians I've ever met.
“Yes. Very little is know about Quintina Iovianus before she married the Admiral.” For some reason her name sounded very familiar, maybe it was a common one.
“Well, that's good for him.” He didn't strike me as the settling down type. I was about to ask if they had any kids.
“The situation is debatable.” Tor liked that phrase, and it was growing on me as well.
“What does that mean?” Smiling as I asked.
“Quintina Iovianus-Wald is a fugitive.” Torr wiped the grin from my face.
“What did she do?” More serious with this one.
“She is wanted for multiple acts of terrorism, several counts of murder, and conspiracy to commit treason.” Torr's monotone delivery struck me as deadpan.
“That sounds... Controversial.” I laughed. “I suppose a man like that would have strange taste in women.” There were some fantastical rumors floating about thirty years ago.
“In the only published statement regarding the subject, the Admiral said only that the interviewer could not understand.” The robot presented a hint of scolding to me.
“Is she wanted by the Alliance?” It was absurd, but sounded serious.
“Yes, and by the Empire.” Very serious.
“What has the Admiral said about that?” I never got a decent answer to how he stayed an Admiral.
“Three reporters have put a variant of that question to him. To date, the Protectorate Fleet has settled all suits out of court. Estimates for the value of these settlements vary by a wide amount.” I was starting to think that Torr was implying things for efficiency.
“Ooh... When was his last interview?” A fascinating question popped into my mind.
“Yesterday.” There was a pause. “You meant before yours, Eleven sols ago.” It received a fascinating answer.
“I should have asked you about this stuff before I talked with him.” Hindsight is a bitch.
“So you could ask about his wife?” That hint of scolding returned.
“Yeah.” Right then, the missed opportunity blinded me to my own luck.
“Eleven years ago, when the Admiral was last asked about her, there was a scandal.” Torr was talking to me like I was a child again, he thought I was missing something obvious. I was.
“Why, what happened?” I'm an idiot, like I've said.
“The reporter suffered a broken Fibula, Tibia, and two broken Patellae. The Protectorate Fleet settled with him out of court.” Torr warned me, or scolded. I'm not sure.
“Oh.” I thought she had been joking, this robot jerk knew and laughed anyway.
The next question was about to come out of my mouth when she opened the cockpit door and called through it. I knew he was her Admiral, anything else between them would have to stay mysterious. Valence clearly wanted it that way.
“Pete, are you awake?” She must have heard voices through the wall.
“Yeah.” I replied.
“Great, get your butt in here. We're landing in a sec.” She finalized her sentence by relinquishing the door override.
One second was an overstatement, but the planet below us was very close. I got into the seat beside her. A sphere of continuous ocean stretching and growing under us. A mark on the H.U.D. Our destination, still over the horizon.
“So I guess you and the Admiral had some favors to return, or something huh?” I still wanted to know, but it was barely worth pressing the subject.
“What do you mean?” Valence was very hesitant.
“From what Torr was telling me, I think I'm as lucky to have walked out of there, as Wald was for me to walk in.” She continued to stare through the canopy. “I'm just saying that he must be good to his fleet, for his fleet to be this good to him.”
“Oh. Yeah, he tries.” She muttered.
“So were your folks both Protectorate fleet too?” I sidestepped the Admiral, there was something there she didn't want me privy to.
“Yeah, kinda.” She was unsure about this subject as well.
“Complicated?” I didn't need to know the answer, but she seemed to feel better for hearing my question.
“Yeah, my mom kinda... She bailed.” Valence didn't sound sure how bad that was.
“I'm sorry, that sucks.” I was starting to wish I'd asked a different question.
“Eh... She... Couldn't deal.” The girl's tone implied some unfortunate things about while her mom stayed.
“War is hard to deal with.” No toys with sirens, no toys that are guns. One was mine, the other was hers, he understood.
“Try having a kid in one.” I felt a lot of sympathy for this woman who tried.
“So... What do they sell here?” But I didn't want to talk about it anymore.
“There's supposed to be a decent ship-shop here, someone gave me a tip.” She waved her hand as she explained.
“Nice.” Acknowledged with a nod.
“And booze. Chef's can't print booze, so I'm stocking up before we leave.” If Valence was wielding that kind of deadpan humor on purpose, she could have killed someone.
I laughed again when I saw that she'd bought a few tons of booze, it was waiting to be loaded. She scolded me, explaining that it was damn good money to haul alcohol out to the stations along the route. She wasn't installing any scanning equipment, she told me that she was just going to follow the highway, no trailblazing. It had apparently taken less than thirty years to render a Twenty-Two-Thousand light-year path across the galaxy into well known territory.
She decided to grab a bite to eat before leaving. I asked if it would be a good idea to go somewhere nice, she said it would. The city protruded out of the water slightly, and extended out below. The port was built to be insulated from the main areas above the surface via the sub-surface sections. We knew we were entering a nicer neighborhood when we stopped passing through as many pressure locks. The very nice neighborhood was indicated by the presence of windows that could open.
“You excited?” She'd waited until our first course was finished to really start the conversation.
“Yeah, I've never...” I thought back to the last time I'd looked at her navigation screen. “Actually, I'm already further from Korwei than I've ever been.”
“I don't know where I was born.” She saw me make a sympathetic face, and blushed a little. “Well I mean, I was told but I can't remember, just a catalog entry. It's Skadu Sector and a string of letters and shit, or something.”
“That's cool, like the backstory for a fantasy character.” I quipped, mostly joking. Valence pulled a face at me.
“Don't even, it's not like some lost star. It's just empty and impossible to remember it's name, hold on.” To prove her point she used the hologram that burst from her wrist to send the question to Torr remotely.
“SKAUDE RI-T E 3-12, Ms. Valence.” Torr's reply floated between us.
“There ya go.” Shrugging, she deactivated the hologram. “Smack in the middle of nowhere, at least Ten-Kay light years core-ward. And just the catchiest name, very easy to remember.”
“Oh, you were born in The Black proper, that's actually cool.” Technically not that rare, but only because people born on Star-ports liked to make the claim. Almost no-one was born in-transit, few women were willing to fly pregnant.
“Maybe.” She rolled her eyes a little. “But my folks had to grease palms to get my birth certificate stamped. It says I'm from Bhritzameno on it too.” She let out a tiny mirthful snort.
The mains arrived so we held our conversation until we were waiting for dessert.
“I'm closer to writing this book than I was thirty years ago.” I said as the waitress took our plates, the thought had only just finished coalescing.
“Glad to help, usually something has to go wrong for my life to be this exciting.” She meant, go wrong for her.
“Speak for yourself, I'm riding a wave of luck and your charity. This isn't my plan playing out correctly over here.” I made it into a little joke.
“Well I guess you have, what was it Lexx?” I nodded. “You have Lexx to thank for that. If he hadn't been hauling liquor, it wouldn't have been worth my time to search through the debris. I thought you were another cask.” Valence brought a smile to my face when she told me that.
“Shit, he stole that you know.” We shared a laugh. Lexx probably would have thought that was funny too.
“I'll let you know when he's not paying for the trip anymore. He had good taste for a thief.” We shared another laugh. Lexx would have liked Valence, she'd probably call him out as a bit of a creep though.
After dessert we walked back to her ship, got strapped in, and in five minutes had breached a frontier I knew was insurmountable for my entire life. It had taken less time that I'd been alive, subjectively, to populate the stars along this highway too. Even if only sparsely.
It's hard to believe how casually it was done. I had only gone Missing, not one of The Missing. Humanity had lost so many souls trying for something so much less than Colonia was. Before I was frozen, the idea of such colonization was simply deemed impossible. Maybe the trick was to not do it on purpose.
We had no upsets for the first few days, I'll tell you about Hillary Depot later. She showed me a few more of her Holo-Shows, Valence told me that I made her feel comfortable. Sometime between the third night and fourth day she kissed me. My instinct was to stop her, but I didn't.
You want to hear what happened next, don't you? Fine, I stopped her from unbuttoning my shirt, and returned her kiss a little. Slowing down was simpler than stopping at that point. Valence was a better kisser than my wife. Later that night, I almost got some sleep, but nightmares were keeping me from it.
Chapter Seventeen
I suppose that you wouldn't mind hearing about my nightmare. Too bad, I won't describe it for you. You're probably disappointed with that, and about how I handled that last scene. So as a consolation prize: I'm going to tell you why I have nightmares.
We hadn't married yet, or adopted our son. That would come soon after though. I was in the docking ring, watching for ships. That used to be a pass-time of mine. All of Wingqvist Enterprise shook, the lights flickered.
The raid sirens started blaring.
A Commander burst from a nearby building and leaped across the docking pad to their Vulture. I had been waiting to see her, she was already catching fame. The Vulture shot up from the docking pad without waiting for it to turn, she flipped end over end and was firing her lasers through the mail-slot before she even cleared it.
I missed all of that, instead I was running towards a transit terminal, I needed to get out to the Hab-Ring. She worked in the Hab-Ring. But transit shuts down for emergencies like that, it would take another eight hours for me to hear from her.
“We're all in the basement of the building.” She'd said, trying to reassure me.
I heard echoing impact noises through the connection, moments later I felt the shocks pass through the Star-port. It was hard to hear her over the sirens, I could hear those coming from her end too.
We tortured each-other through that line for another hour before the connection was lost. Another blast and shock had punctuated the signal vanishing. A security officer tried to convince me that it was just the connection, the shock hadn't been big enough to be anything coming off the station. Wingqvist was still spinning, he told me.
I didn't believe him, eventually someone had to hold me down, I kept trying to get out of the shelter. Hours of noise followed by hours of silence, but for the sirens. They kept going for as long as there was power. At some point the officer who had tried to comfort me received a report through their radio. He almost silenced it before I heard the beginning of a list of depressurized sections of the ring.
Seventy Six hours.
It would be almost all of them before I found out that she was alive. We were married in another twelve. We adopted him a few months later, it was the right thing to do. Almost every couple who survived the siege adopted in the months afterwards. The ads everywhere said it best: There are orphans to spare.
The morning after we were officiated, the alarm on her P.A.D. went off. She'd forgotten to disable it. It woke me up with it's tiny little siren, and had me shaking and blubbering. I didn't understand.
She did though. She embraced me and told me that loud bangs were doing the same thing to her. Told me it was okay.
Both of us had to meet a shrink before they'd let us take him home. She never felt like talking about it, I never did either. I still don't. The shrink told me that post-traumatic stress can develop in many ways, mine was not uncommon. Far from being a Disorder.
He described it as 'An out of proportion emotional response' I asked him what differentiates that from any emotion. He raised an eyebrow, then booked me for more appointments than my wife needed.
Evidently I wasn't fully diagnose-able, the shrink said. I was only exhibiting some of the traits. Notably I still demonstrated empathy, and didn't externalize enough blame to be a complete psychopath. The shrink also told me that a complete one probably wouldn't have been able to get PTSD. Lucky, borderline me.
I never told her, I was so afraid that it meant they wouldn't let us bring him home. It didn't, I think the agency was taking what they could get.
I met a girl in the waiting room a few times, Deb was there for the same reasons I was. One day she was crying in the waiting room. Deb said that was her last appointment, they'd told her no. For someone out there, it had just been that simple. If I hadn't asked her name, I would never have noticed the article in the back of a local-rag a few days later.
Debbie Thurgood, 19, was found dead of an apparent suicide last night by her landlady. Police suspect no foul play. Debbie was a Siege Survivor. Her parents Matt and Francine Thurgood were killed when Hab sector F was breached. She is mourned by her brother, Theodore.
“She was trying to adopt.” He said, when asked for a statement. “I was going to move in with her, to try and help.” Mr. Thurgood added that he would continue to petition for adoption, then refused further questions.
“Deb was a rough kid, but a good kid. This is a terrible tragedy.” Said her landlady, who asked to remain anonymous.
There was more to the article, but it was all suicide statistics so I didn't save that. It was rough for the next few days. I didn't have an appointment for another two weeks, and they barely felt like help anyway. The shrink wasn't that bad though, he was giving me a cut-rate for the out-patient appointments.
I told her I was just nervous about him coming home. It would still be most of a month, but we already had the apartment ready. She knew I was still going to the shrink, but she pretended to believe me anyway.
Then, in the middle of the night, someone caught up the The Raptor with a camera and got an interview. I only caught it live because I was staying up late to watch some old Holo-shows, because I couldn't sleep again. They showed a little scrolling text telling me the program was about to cut to breaking news, I tensed.
That usually meant something awful. Not that night though.
“Thank you for joining us, we have here tonight Commander Eidolon, The Raptor.” Though he was so inspiring to me, I never learned that reporter's name.
“'Sup?” She was leaning against the open hatch at the rear of the Vulture. Feigning boredom.
“Before we begin, I would like to personally thank you for what you are doing here Commander, as well as thank you on behalf of all residents of Korwei.” A well canned opener.
“It's all in a day's work. I'm happy to help.” Blasé, but sincere. She had already been at it for a couple of months, and she was far from half done.
“What brought you to Korwei, Commander?” His first question was a great one.
“A friend sent me a message asking if I was nearby, looking for a fight to join. I was.” That was the story, more or less. But details and time-lines always muddle things.
“That would be Captain Wald?” Of course it would. But for all of Brent's fame, this part of their story was nearly unheard of.
“Yep.” She drew out her answer and smiled.
“How do you know the Captain?” Another great one from him.
“He picked me up as security detail once or twice.” Having heard her say this, I think I was now an authority on their working relationship.
“Commander, I won't pretend like I haven't done my research. I presume you are speaking about Rajukru?” I've looked, whoever he was had better connections or luck than me. Probably both.
“I might be, why do you ask?” There was this glimmer in her eye. It was the only time her facade of calm faltered.
“How does it feel, being on this side of it now?” His question told me the context about Rajukru I needed, and told her that he didn't care.
“I'm always on the side with money. Don't you forget it.” She cooed at him.
“I haven't, that's why I ask. The Raptor is a Hero, I guess I'm just gushing a little. Sorry.” They practically flirted on camera.
“It feels good. Knowing I'm helping others, while getting payed all the same. It has a delicious efficiency to it.” The most honest answer she gave.
“You recently defended Wingqvist enterprise in a protracted battle.” A good reporter knows when he is past the armor.
“The Siege, I think you're calling it.” But, The Raptor was armored in layers.
“Yes, there are varied estimates for how long it lasted, but you were there the whole time, did-” The reporter was probably from Bernoulli Gateway, it sounded theoretical and exciting to him.
“Seventy-Six hours. My ship logs that stuff.” That's how I know. I didn't count them, I was busy loosing my mind.
“How do you do it?” He asked after taking a tiny moment to collect himself.
“This is who I am. This is what I do.” Then, her sternness melted away. “Except when I'm taking some downtime. Then I dance, sing, and sometimes take unsuspecting locals home for the night.” Their eyes met.
“I have one more question, for completeness. Where are you from, Commander Eidolon?” Another tiny flicker of her pupils, not nearly at noticeable as the first, and the reporter killed his chances of being that local.
“Commander Eidolon came from hard work, and stumbling into the Pilots Federation. Also, she's got a patrol to do.” She waved him away from her Vulture and walked back inside of it.
Sometime during the interview I stopped tensing up so much. Once the Holo-show was back on I found myself leaning, then lying on the couch. I slept better that night, than I had since before The Siege. Once she made a habit of it, Valence nestling on top of me started to help me sleep too. Feels like safety.
Chapter Eighteen
You want me to get back to the story, don't you. Well, it would take some time before we got back to it. We eventually made it to the first properly populated cluster of systems along the route. We landed on a planet with a few cities on it and docked at Hillary Depot. The locals called it The Old Depot, I was told the place was of historical importance. The infrastructure was well maintained, but no noteworthy places to eat.
We didn't stay long, Valence wanted to have someone give her Cobra a once over. She claimed it was tradition to do so at six specific stops along the highway. A man was loitering around her hangar.
“You headed back to the Bubble?” I got the impression he wouldn't have asked if he didn't already know.
“Nope, other way.” Valence replied nonchalantly.
“How far you goin'?” He asked casually.
“All the way to Colonia, not in a hurry though. You uhmm, looking for a lift?” She cut to the chase.
“Wouldn't mind, I gots a couple of cargo-cans too.” His addendum was added dismissively.
“I can free up some space in the rack. Not uhm. got a lot in the way of sleeping space.” Valence gestured awkwardly.
“I already called the big couch.” I added a joke.
“Oh, you got gravity in there?” She nodded to the man. “Swank. I can roll out my pack in the cargo bay then.” He said and shrugged.
A price was decided and cargo was loaded. Shortly thereafter we were off. Something about him made me suspicious, I think it was that one of his cargo cans was a cryopod.
The highway took us through the Lagoon Nebula, then the Eagle Nebula after. The requisite stops at Terminal City, and Eagle's Landing took as little time as the first one. The next leg of the journey was longer, the highway wasn't evenly distributed or perfectly direct. It was when we passed the mid-point between the nebulae that I noticed a drop-off in population. We were much closer to Eagle's Landing before we saw civilization again, compared to the previous hot-spots. Valence was starting to make more regular use of her fuel-scoop too.
“Your first time out 'ere?” Valence's passenger was polite enough. Him and I were passing some time in the cabin while she flew the ship.
“Yeah, is it that obvious?” I put down my P.A.D.
“Well you's taking a lotta pictures.” He pointed at my device on the table. “It is pretty out 'ere, I'll give ya that.”
“Someone told me I'd know why people live out here when I saw it.” It was only part of a still unfinished answer, but it was there.
“Yeah, I can see that.” He nodded for a moment, then gestured towards the cockpit. “You two on vacation, or movin' out there, or somethin'?”
“Oh no, she's just giving me a lift.” My reply was dismissive.
“Lucky you.” He made a suggestive gesture with his eyebrows.
“How about you, what's bringing you to Colonia?” I decided to shift the subject away from this innuendo, it was too close to home.
“I'm being sent there. I'm a bounty hunter.” The businesslike manner of his reply caught my attention.
“Sounds interesting, would it be rude to ask about specifics?” It generally was, but you never know.
“Kinda yeah, if we're being honest 'ere.” He scoffed. “What are you a reporter, you ask a lot of questions.” He didn't take me very seriously, had a smile on his face.
“Actually, yeah I am.” I had introduced myself before, but did it again and included 'Freelance Reporter' after my name. Still mostly a lie, but it felt good to say again.
“So then, what scoop you after in Colonia?” He questioned casually.
“Ah, whatever the cat drags in. A place this interesting has to have a few good stories to tell, right?” His wasn't the only trade that had to guard secrets.
“At the risk of revealin' a bit much about my job here; Yes, yes it does.” He had a good sense of humor, for a hired thug.
With the Eagle Nebula behind us and shrinking with every jump, the immense distance we were covering was starting to dawn on me. We were a week into that leg of the journey when I asked what nebula we were pointed at. Valence said she wasn't sure, but pointed in a general direction. I couldn't see it, I asked if we could still see the Eagle Nebula behind us, she checked. We squinted and gazed through the canopy and eventually decided that we couldn't.
“That's creepy.” I declared.
“What? Why?” Valence asked, mirth in her voice.
“I'm... It's like just dawning on me how far away, from everything, we are right now... I guess.” I shuddered a little.
“You can barely see the Eagle Nebula from most of The Bubble.” Valence scoffed at me.
“Well I don't know. It's not the Nebula, it's just the distance, I guess it just sank in.” I thought out loud to answer her.
“Aww Pete, that's so cute. We're not even half-way there yet.” She cooed at me. “And here you had me believing you weren't gonna get homesick.”
“Shut-up.” I mock whined. “I'm not homesick, humbled maybe.” Probably both.
“Torr, has Pete ever said 'Humble' before?”Valence put on a faux severity as she asked.
“Not while aboard, Ms. Valence.” Torr replied rapidly.
“Oh by gods, you two. Not everyone is so used to flinging themselves around the void.” Something else it seemed that I had no choice but to deal with now.
“I'm sorry.” She giggled. ”We're actually getting into the area of space I was born in, I think.”
“You think?” I squinted at her, but smiled. “You don't know?”
“Like I said, I'm not sure exactly what sector it was in, and a bunch of them around here have nearly the same names.” She shot some air out of her nose, almost mirthfully. “Maybe I just have a fucked up baseline for homesickness.”
“Home isn't necessarily where you were born. Most Commanders call their ship home.” Most people call where they build their life home.
“Yeah, they do. Don't they.” She shook her head a little. “After a few more jumps, you wanna watch another episode?”
“Sure, I'm actually really wondering where they're going to take this season.” Every other episode of the first series had DuHart speaking with the Admiral she reported to about her uncertainties. He assured her at every step that he, and the Imperial Navy had absolute faith in her abilities.
“We're still a few episodes out before they actually go anywhere with this series though. You weren't expecting how the last one ended were you?” From the first episode onward, counterintelligence had become more and more of a plot-device.
“Holy shit, no! I'm telling you, I will find you a copy of the older version. The writers have definitely seen it.” That same Admiral had taken DuHart from her post. Her former Federal allegiance, and revelations of the previous episodes had changed the minds of the Naval council. She was not to be trusted with a capital vessel anymore.
“Well, all I'm going to tell you is that they fuck around on that planet for another two episodes then get down to the real stuff.” The second series had so far taken place entirely within a small resort, where DuHart was under house arrest.
“Does Stephanie's girlfriend have a name?” Just then it occurred to me that she didn't seem to, but I thought I'd maybe lost it in translation.
“No. They get into her back-story a little bit soon though.” I had thought it was weird that they never attributed her subtitles.
“What, she's main cast, why doesn't she have a name?” I couldn't imagine a reason for this, yet.
“They were making a point with her, about how people used to treat them.” Valence said. It took me a moment to guess at what she'd implied.
“Wait... Is she a slave?” I'd figured it out, Valence hadn't thought I would need to think so hard about it, also her eyes bulged and she snapped her attention to me.
“Oh no, that's... Fuck.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Okay, Pete listen carefully. I know you didn't mean anything by that. But it is not cool to say that shit anymore.”
“I didn't mean... Wait, what?” I have no idea how much of a factor the time in the pod was in this sudden blast of culture shock.
“They're just honest, working class people trying to get by. That kind of talk hasn't been okay since, well... Since the Federation fell.” She was carefully watching me as she explained.
“I've never... I don't even...” I took a deep breath. “Sorry. In the show, is... Ugh. Please explain the mechanics of this to me.” It occurred to me how little I really understood about this.
“What do you think they are?” She asked quietly, still piercing me with her eyes.
“I don't even know what words to use!?” I all but begged her.
“Operarius. Generally you would call them by their title, or their name.” She all but talked down to me.
“There's a contract right?” She nodded at me. “To someone who is your owner?” She frowned.
“Wow, I always wondered. No Pete that's not really how it works at all.” She shook her head at me. “They get to be your boss, it's like a job. Usually a job that comes with room and board.”
“Is there pay?” I suddenly felt the need to ask.
“Of course they get payed, what the fuck kind of question is that?” Valence exclaimed, her voice was mostly upset but there was also a tinge of sympathy.
“I-I don't know? That's just what they said, I was told that Imperial... Umm, Operarius?” She squinted and nodded at me. “That they don't get payed. That was crap?”
“Yeah.” She held out her hands as she gave her flabbergasted reply.
“Well, good. Damn.” I wiped my brow.
“Why did you think people signed those contracts?” Her question came slowly.
“Because they had to. To like, work off crimes and debts and shit.” I had no idea it was voluntary.
Valence stared at me for a minute, she was trying to make sense of what I'd said. After a little time I realized the silence was persisting. I turned to face her and found her squinting at me and making fish-like movements with her mouth.
“W-what? B-but, what did you- How does, did... Wh-Where the-” The depth of the cultural valley stretched out and rendered Valence momentarily speechless.
“It's okay, just think of one question first. I can answer all of them.” I almost never got to see her not knowing what to do.
“How did Federal citizens work off debts?” She eventually decided on.
“They just had to go find a job.” I answered simply.
“They had to find it? What if they couldn't, in the system, or... How would they know what the system needed for jobs? It was on individuals to work that out?” Her questions put some serious perspective on some thoughts I'd always had about the Federation.
“I... There were usually resources to go to, like Temp-agencies or workshops.” I concentrated on answering her questions though.
“What kind of workshops? Like, labor?” She was aghast.
“No, no. I mean a place to work on their CV or check job listings, that sort of thing.” She nodded a little as she listened to that.
“Okay, what's a Temp-agency then?” That question raised several, but she was interviewing right then.
“You give them your credentials, fill out a bunch of forms and they look for jobs for you. It's usually just short term work though.” My answer looked like it sounded familiar to her.
“So you sign a contract with them, they find a job, send you off to it, and you're guaranteed your hours for the debt?” Evidently she expected that from what I'd said.
“No, they usually didn't do anything to get you to it, sometimes they couldn't even find you a job. They usually only look in system. Big ones can get you jobs from nearby systems, sometimes. Er, could?” She started to squint at me.
“That sounds lame, why was that the best the local government could do back then?” She used the word lame like someone with agricultural background, meaning weak or unfit.
“Oh, Temp-agencies aren't government. Sometimes they get tax breaks, a little.” She deepened her squinting. “They take some off your paycheck for the service.” I added carefully.
“What the flying fuck?” She shook her head. “That's just a super shitty, exploitative version of Operor Vicis. What happens when this gets your debts cleared?”
“Sometimes, it doesn't.” I said with more dismay in my voice than I'd meant to use.
“Wha-ha-” She was about to laugh when she thought about that. “Gottdamn, that's... Oh no, no-no.” She was smart, most of my own people would never have understood the cycle of debt so suddenly.
“I would have guessed wrong on so many things about the future, but the fall of my great Federation is not one of them.” I told her quietly.
“We're turning in for the night.” She spoke with a button on her console held down.
“So soon?” She turned to me and smiled.
“I feel like taking a longer break than one episode.” She thought for a moment. “You were about to call them Imperial, uhm... You know.”
“Yeah, that's what they called them back then.” My answer gave her pause.
“Was that just like, propaganda or something?” Valence wondered at me.
“I, uhh don't know.” I thought about it for a moment. “Maybe it was. Like to draw a comparison.”
“There- Were there, did the Federation have... Actual slaves?” Valence whispered the last two words like a curse.
“No.” She looked relieved. “They were illegal too.” My attempt to clarify and reassure failed.
“Mister Kenji, you give me a straight answer. Were there kidnapped, in chains people, being forced to work back then?” Valence brought a sudden intensity I wasn't expecting.
“Yeah, there were. The Federation was trying to stop it, but I think they sucked at it. It was a problem in every-body's space to some extent.” I tried to simplify it as best as I could. Like I was some expert or something.
She looked out into the void for a moment. I think anyone she had asked about it before now had given her a coy answer. I think she was trying to understand an economy where both could coexist so rampantly.
“Both were against Federal law?” Valence eventually asked, timidly.
“Yeah.” I replied.
“Idiots.” She understood how.
“Yeah.” I agreed.
“Did you want me to tell you the point they were making with her, in the show?” Valence suddenly shifted backward in topic.
“No spoilers?” She thought, then shook her head: no. So I nodded.
“What DuHart is doing was, maybe still is considered quite vulgar. Well, no. Putting it onscreen and having her... Well, love her was the vulgar part.” She sorted what she was saying as she said it.
“So DuHart keeping a...” I caught myself and whispered. “Is 'Concubine' a word I can say?”
“What? No, that's perfect, DuHart's Concubine. I think that's actually a straight translation of Pallaca.” She saw on my face that the relevance of that was lost. “She's credited as Pallaca.”
“Oh. What does that mean?” She didn't tend to let me pay much attention during the credits.
“Concubine.” She held out her hands as she said it.
“So, showing a Concubine on screen is vulgar?” That made sense to me.
“It's more, was more about how they are, with each-other.” Valence tried to correct me.
“They heavily imply the sex, but it's still not even late-night special-access Holo-Shows by Thirty-year out of date Federal standards.” She insisted it was for children, but I still disagreed.
“No.” She waved a hand in my direction impatiently. “You aren't supposed to fall in love with your Pallaca. That's the point.”
“The point the show was trying to-” I hadn't followed her, she interrupted to get me back on track.
“Oh good lord, what are you eight Sols old? The point of a Pallaca is that it's just a job. The point the show is making is that it can be more.” Valence explained to me.
“That's romantic, kinda small time for a point about sl- uh, Operarius'.” I was still out of the cultural loop that would have gotten me to follow the last step on my own though.
“The plural is Operarii. The idea is that if DuHart's Pallaca is worthy of her love, than maybe the guy who wipes down your canopy is at least worthy of a decent tip.” That was in fact a solid point to be making, but I was in debate mode.
“Well, what if he does a shitty job?” I asked smugly.
“I do a shitty job for people who don't pay me properly.” Valence replied matter-of-factly.
“That's... Ooh.” I exhaled. “You've got me there, me too.”
“Come on. If we don't go put on the next episode, I'm just gonna explain the whole arc to you.” She stood up and pointed at the door.
Chapter Nineteen
Captain DuHart spent another whole episode pacing around her luxurious prison. Her Pallaca tried, and failed to console her. A slew of her bridge crew had come and gone throughout this part of the series. Most to wish her well, and show solidarity.
The Admiral arrived in the second episode we watched that night. They walked through a garden and spoke privately. He told her that he was surprised she was still there. He knew this place couldn't hold a person like her unless she wanted to stay.
Stephanie DuHart insisted that she would serve an unjust sentence out of respect for the ideals of Imperial law. The Admiral only replied that if she managed to escape, and stay off the radar, there would be almost no incentive for the fleet to do more than a show of searching for her. Should she prove to be helpful, even if only incidentally, then even that incentive would vanish.
She was in command of a black Cutter by the end of the episode. Her tactical officer had arrived with a Hauler marked as a service vehicle. There was a short montage of collecting the dry-docked Gutamaya vessel and crewing it. Most of the rest her bridge crew from the Queentia-Iactura had come to her before the final scene.
“It's been a long time.” DuHart muttered to herself as she brushed her hand against the frame of her newly re-acquired cabin window.
“You still won't admit where this ship is from?” Her Girlfriend stepped into frame from the darkened room.
“She can forget her past. It's the least I can do.” Stephanie didn't react to being embraced.
“You don't need me to tell you, that you care to much, for this type of work.” She said into the nape of DuHart's neck.
“Maybe this time will be different, things have changed.” Stephanie's posture softened, she reached for her girlfriend's chin.
“Oh? That you are older and wiser, showing some gray hairs?” Her playful tone brought a smile to DuHart's lips.
“I've never had you with me before, you change everything.” Stephanie leaned in and kissed her.
I was glad Valence explained to me what was going on with them. I still had to carefully process everything to wrap my head around this context, but what a context it was. I decided that this version of the show must have been written by a defector, or refugee from the Federation. It had to be their hauteur project.
You have Gal-Net, the show is not that old. You know I was wrong. I know that too, now. But that was the narrative in my head at the time, I'm including it for completeness. That final scene had moved me quite a bit, I'm finding myself a little bit of a sap for a good love story since I got thawed out. So Valence skipping directly from the beginning of the credits to the next episode caught me off guard. She said the rest of the season was where it got good.
The remainder of that season consisted mostly of direct homages to the Holo-shows I remembered. Slightly jumbled together, like half remembered dreams. Valence told me that despite the slow start, this was her favorite series. It was here in this version that DuHart first committed to her signature pose and quote about purses, something she would continue to do as the plot moved forward. We only watched a couple more episodes though, there was more sub-plot but we hadn't gotten to that yet.
Instead, she raised the volume and started to remove her flight-suit. We had taken a little break when she brought a new passenger aboard. She must have began to feel comfortable enough again. Down to her bra, panties, and socks she produced the spray-condom and started on my belt.
Valence and my wife were opposites in some ways, where they were guarded and where they let loose. It's probably not healthy that I still compare them like that. At the time I was not at all concerned with what Valence would be able to do if a siren went off, and I couldn't keep it together. But it had been decades since that was a problem, I could say.
Just then, I wasn't worried about anything. Oh by gods, Commander Valence made me forget which of my names I was using. No wonder Torr liked being in the ship she handled. By the time she was through with me, I was out of breath and couldn't have worried if my life depended on it. At least for a little while.
“What's your favorite part of the show?” She had pulled her flight-suit back over her legs and tied it at the waist, brought out her pipe.
“The, uhh- the morals are good.” I waved it away when she offered, I had to catch my breath first.
“What do you mean?” She wanted a more thorough answer.
“Decisions are tough.” I panted. “Things matter. Stephanie works hard- uhh- to do the right thing.”
“Oh, you like the melodrama. It's a little much for me, that's why I like this series.” She said dismissively.
“I'm not, sure if...” I was too out of breath to try and define a word with four syllables. “Old show's a lot like this season, you'd love it.”
“Really?” I nodded. “Alsus!” Valence rocked her head up and down when she exclaimed, her tits could mesmerize when she did that. “So what's not to like about the old one?” I think she was trying not to let me catch my breath.
“I dunno, it was more, simple.” She leaned over and laid with me as I wheezed out my answer.
“Well you clearly like the new one better.” Was that so clear, I still can't tell.
“New one's... Not propaganda-ish.” I said, about the shows.
“What, did the Federal Navy show up to save the day with orbital bombardment every episode?” She didn't know how funny her tone made that.
“Only every other one.” We laughed, she knew it hurt a little when I did.
“You are out of shape. I'd be proud, but don't die.” She hugged me as I tried to stifle another laugh. “This version is pretty Jingoistic, kinda makes me wonder about yours.”
“Well, this show has nuance. There was never any real downsides to anything in the old show. It was too simple for that. I don't really think they were trying to be propaganda, but it was about the Navy and didn't show the good guys as anything but. So there you go.” Valence waited very patiently for me to get that out, she occupied herself with a few hairs on my chest.
“You've had a lot of time to think about that.” She noted, bemused.
“Oh that's what you do when your kid wants to watch something like that. That's how I first saw it.” I noticed she has stopped moving, started looking at me intently. “He wanted to watch it, he'd already seen some but I wanted to make sure it was appropriate.”
“Oh, you- did-did... “ She held me a little tighter. “He liked the show too?”
“He'd seen a few before the adoption went through, I probably wouldn't have let him watch it if he didn't already like it so much, so I started watching it with him. He loved the one-liners.” My filter was nearly gone.
“Pete, I- I'm so sorry. You were from Bernoulli, uhm Gateway?” I gave her a curious nod. “Weren't you? I'm so sorry.” She buried her head against me and held me tight.
I wonder what would have happened if I'd lied, or even said nothing. Like if I'd made it to any of my missed meetings, I wonder all the time how a tiny change could have altered everything. But I corrected her.
“I wasn't lying, I was married and we had an apartment on Wingqvist. She moved on, I know she did.” I thought I would have been able to say it without sobbing, maybe I was just out of breath still.
“What... About, your son?” She was recoiling from me as she spoke.
“He has a life now, I couldn't-” Be a part of that if I wanted to. Is what I was going to say.
Chapter Twenty
I awoke some time later, in a daze. I was sprawled over the table in front of the couch. The right side of my head was pretty swollen, and that eye had a burst blood vessel in it. Commander Valence had such perfect form on her left hook, that I couldn't remember why my dick was out.
“How do you feel?” Torr asked startlingly.
“Oh just fine, is there any ice?” He understood me, even though my face was pressed against the table-top.
“The water dispenser can be set to a lower temperature, it will take a few minutes.” The robot sounded disappointed.
“Dandy. What did I... You have no clue what I did do you?” I crawled back onto the couch and waited for the cabin to stop spinning.
“Not in the manner you are referring to, no.” Torr said dryly.
“Fuck, me neither. Oh by gods.” I laid down on the couch and pulled my pants back on.
“Do not fall asleep.” Torr said with that hint of urgency.
“I'm not, what gives?” I asked as I sat back up.
“Are you feeling tired suddenly, or nauseous?” He still had the urgent tone.
“No. Why all the hospitality all of a sudden?” He was worrying me.
“Pete Kenji, you have a concussion. Once the water is cold you should apply it to your head and rest, avoiding physical and mental activity. Alert me immediately if you begin to feel any further symptoms.” Torr scolded me.
“Will do, thank you.” I touched my head, quite tender. “Did you decide I've had enough hostility?”
“Hardly, I feel that a positive prognosis for you would be helpful to Ms. Valence's mood at the moment.” He spat in reply.
“Is she okay?” He might know that, if not why she'd punched me.
“She is not injured, have you suffered memory loss?” Torr returned to his worried tone.
“What, n-no?” Did you know, that no-one can ever give a truly honest answer to that question.
“The two of you were performing coitus, when a disagreement caused her to strike you.” He explained in a monotone.
“Oh, you just make it sound positively textbook. I meant, what do you mean 'her mood'?” I asked impatiently.
“Ms. Valence is distraught, but she will recover.” Torr spoke the small amount quieter that he was able.
“I should talk to her.” I mumbled to myself.
“You are mistaken.” The robot warned. “This conversation has already become too engaging for someone with a concussion. The water is cold, please rest.”
I held the bag against my face and wondered when my life had gotten so damn interesting. It was getting harder and harder to decide on a starting point. In fact it was on that couch, many hours of resting later, that I came up with the opening line of this story. I had a lot of time to do so, I felt much less allowed to move around her ship suddenly, and she didn't say a word to me for almost a whole day.
“Did I hurt you?” She muttered over the couch ambiguously.
“A little bit, yeah.” I replied defensively.
“Just a bit?” I nodded. “Good.” She narrowed her eyes and went back to flying the ship.
The first I heard of the detour she was making was when her other passenger mentioned it. He was okay with stopping, maybe picking up another ride for the rest of the way, Valence would cut him a little more than half of his payment back to him if he did so. She was being fair. I was tempted to ask her about it, but refrained. I started having trouble sleeping again.
The bounty hunter was making a little more small talk, some time later. Honestly, I thought he was bored and wanted some gossip.
“What did ya say to her?” At least someone on board thought it was funny.
“I don't know.” I was starting to piece it together, but not yet or for him.
“Well she stopped at that, count yourself lucky. I've flown with Commanders who'd shoot a fella to win an argument!” He thought he was a comedian.
“I'd imagine that can be hard to be around.” He might have been, I wasn't laughing just then though.
“Nah, just agree wiv 'em.” He laughed. “Shay's Dive ain't such a bad place to be marooned. You'll be back on your feet in no-time.” That was the name of the system where she was taking us on her detour.
“Thanks.” I decided to just agree with him.
“You know why she picked there?” He asked casually.
“No idea. Is there something special about this place?” He wasn't the one to ask, but she wasn't answering questions.
“Not that much, that's why it's weird. I think we was around the same distance from there as Sacaqawea when she changed her mind.” He made a questioning face and shrugged.
“Some history there, maybe?” Valence had an interest in historical sites.
“That's what I'm wonderin'...” He thought I meant something else.
“Well she was doing this historical route, six stops. Is this one of those?” I clarified carefully.
“Oh, uh not that I know. Pretty new, kinda backwater.” He waved a hand. “She mention some family out this way, anything like that?” I was being grilled for information.
“Nah.” I shrugged. “She mentioned it to you first, never even heard of the place.”
“Shit, I dunno then.” He smirked. “Hey, maybe she just wanted to kick your ass out somewhere that's a bitch to leave, eh?”
“That would be my luck.” Hopefully I was better at faking a laugh than he was. “Can I ask you something?”
“Probably, let's see.” He shrugged to punctuate his answer.
“If you told me who's in your cryopod, you'd have to kill me. Wouldn't you?” I joked.
“Yup.” He made a pair of guns with his hands and pointed them at me.
“I figured, sorry.” I nodded to him. “I got stuck in one once, it's just a little creepy seeing one again.”
“Well... It's just my boss. He gets to blink the trip away, I'm stuck with draggin' that fuckin' thing around, bookin' flights.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Ahh, I've said too much.”
“Hey man, no worries. I wish I had a guy like you when I was last in one. The pay any good?” I did have someone watching the pod, it hadn't been enough.
“Yeah, well... We make the big catch, then neither of us gotta work again.” He checked the time and started to get up.
“Huh, writing's a little bit like that too.” I mused, he nodded at me.
“Hey, until I saw you, I woulda said the difference is: writers don't have ta dodge no punches. But ya proved me wrong on that.” He actually did get a laugh out of me with that one.
“Well, good hunting.” I smiled at him.
“Yeah, you too man.” He returned it, then left.
The next morning I waited for him to head into the washroom and crept into the cargo bay. I planned to ask him a bunch of questions about the place we were going if he caught me, pretend I was trying to speak with him in private. I felt like the cryopod was watching me. The man frozen inside certainly looked like a bounty hunter, scars and hardened expression. His hair was neatly cropped though.
Beside the bedroll was the man's luggage, I sifted through it and found a P.A.D. not unlike mine. It was fairly chunky and emblazoned with a marred Imperial Eagle across the back. I booted it up and looked for recently opened files.
There were a few maps, with meaningless to me markings added to them. Shay's dive was marked on a couple of them. I couldn't see an immediate way of learning when those markings were added.
I switched over to the messages and checked those for some context. I was quite pleasantly surprised to find that the bounty hunter didn't fuck around with his business P.A.D. The last received message was from the guy in the pod, saying he was getting in the pod.
Working backwards from there I learned that they had originally planned to head directly to Shay's Dive in the search of their bounty. That they didn't know if the bounty was there, but that this was the next step in the search. And finally, I learned that I had fucked myself, when I looked at the top left corner of the screen and saw that two instances of the client were both logged in.
I put the device back where I found it and tried to think of a cover story, while I made my way back towards the door. I was halfway to it when the bounty hunter appeared there and stepped through.
“Aww dude, what the fuck?” He said as he hit the lockout switch for the door behind him.
“I wasn't, I uhm-” He produced a rather mean looking handgun.
“Too late.” He stepped towards me, I backed up.
The pair of us moving across the cargo bay eventually came to the cryopod behind me. He pressed a switch on the device on his wrist and the pod began it's revival cycle. The man inside pushed the hatch open impatiently, then grabbed me by my collar.
“Who the fuck is this?” He growled in my face.
“Sorry bout that, Boss. This corpse just wanted to know who's in the pod.” The bounty hunter replied with a grim mirth.
“Too bad for him.” He turned to his lackey but didn't let go of me. “You'd better have a real lead though.”
“I think that I do, Boss.” He answered.
“So an interrogation is in order?” The man tightened his grip.
“Yeah, the pilot's the one, if I'm right.” The bounty hunter gestured at the locked door behind him.
“We shall see about that.” He brought his attention back to me. “You are interfering with an investigation, I am obligated to tell you that before I-” His attention was drawn to the doorway, it had opened.
Valence burst through the overridden hatch, propelled by her mechanical legs. She had a small gun in each of her hands, and put several rounds into the armed man. He didn't even have a chance to face her.
The one holding me made an attempt to pull me closer, and possibly draw a weapon from somewhere. Valence didn't let him, she didn't even stop crossing the room. I didn't notice the thin swathe of what looked like razor-burn along my temple until later. The man trying to use me as a shield took the bullet through the bridge of his nose.
She still didn't stop though, she finished crossing the cargo-bay. Then bore down on me and jabbed one of her guns into my forehead. With her mobility rig drawing up to full height, her arm was at full extension to put the gun down there.
There was a tense moment, probably a few of them. Slowly, the mechanical legs started to let her down. She kept the gun to my head for another moment after she was standing on her own two feet though.
“What are you going to do?” I eventually asked. Whispered shakily after she let her arm fall to her side.
“I don't know.” Valence sounded like her answer surprised her.
“I wasn't-” She didn't put her gun back to my head, but her hands tensed around them again.
“Shut the fuck up!” She took a deep breath. “Help me drag this shit to the airlock.”
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