Love and Rockets Part 14

Inside the holding cell was one long table against the bulkhead, with nothing on it; a sink, with no mirror over it; a small sanitary device in the corner, with a ration of wipes beside it. The cot upon which she sat, steel frame with the usual thickness of mattress and the usual blanket. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing she wouldn't have expected to find.

It took her a while to realize what was different about the cell. The bulkheads were painted mauve, with dark green accents.

After a time, the hatch slid open. Loren crouched on the cot, her knees drawn up, rubbing the sore calf. Her headache surged forward as her eyes snapped to the hatchway.

It was the redheaded guard, alone, and unarmed. She slipped in, then tapped the keypad. The hatch snicked shut behind her.

"What . . ." Loren started, then stopped herself. This whole business had more than a whiff of danger to it. Of things that weren't allowed.

"Quiet," the guard said, unnecessarily. She sat beside Loren on the cot, perhaps just a bit too close, facing her.

From this distance, Loren could see that her pale eyes were sea-gray. It was a striking look, with the lush red hair.

Hair that was now loose and flowing over the woman's shoulders.

"Tell me why you've come here," the guard now whispered, "and I may be able to help you."

"I . . ." Loren stared back into the woman's eyes. G.o.d, she was beautiful. Loren had been with women before-what girl hadn't?-but it had never done anything much for her. Women together-that wasn't how the romances went, after all. "I told you. I came to see the Consort."

The woman shook her head, but a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, you said that. But you know and I know that your gang boss didn't send you. Look: tell, and I might be able to do something. But quickly."

Loren bit her lip, then told the woman all.

She waited in the cell. After she'd poured out her heart and soul, the woman-Sonia was her name, and it suited her, Loren thought-had nodded, then hugged her tightly. "Be strong," she whispered. "I'll be back."

The next time the hatch opened, though, it was just an orderly with a tray of food. Rations that were neither better nor worse than what she'd get in the gang mess back on Deck 47 or from the dispensers scattered throughout her part of Ship.

She ate the food, though she had little appet.i.te. At least her aches and pains were subsiding.

A few more hours went by. Loren was wishing hard that the cell had been provided with an entertainment console when the hatch snicked open again, and Sonia entered.

The Consort was right behind her.

"Ohhh," Loren sighed, as they both stepped into the cell and closed the hatch behind them. Full of words, she was, thousands of words-and they all failed her, in this moment. The moment she'd been waiting for; the reason she'd taken this risk, risen to this level . . .

"Yes, this is the one," the Consort said to Sonia.

"I thought so." She sat on the cot beside Loren once more, though Loren barely noticed. The Consort stood just inside the hatch, watching her with an unreadable expression. She couldn't keep her eyes off him. He was even more beautiful than she'd remembered.

"Have you told her?" he asked Sonia.

"Not yet. I wanted to be sure."

Now Loren turned to the other woman. "Told me what?"

The redheaded guard took Loren's hands, both of them, and smiled at her. Yes, the woman was lovely indeed. Was everyone so gorgeous here in the upper echelons? Even the workers? Loren shook away the thought. It didn't matter. Of course they were good-looking. That was why they were privileged, right?

"We have an exciting proposal for you."

This is it, she thought, as a thrill filled her chest, saturated her heart with joy. She had been right. The Consort was looking for escape, a way out-he had singled Loren out, chosen her-life was a romance indeed . . .

Even if it wasn't playing out exactly as Loren had hoped, had dreamed, It would be better if it were she and the Consort alone, if it were his hands in hers right now, not Sonia's . . .

But the woman was still talking. Loren had missed the first few words, but snapped to attention at the word "Outside."

". . . never recruit for such missions openly," she was saying. "Too many people think they're strong enough, capable enough, for what we face out there, but they're not."

"Out . . . Outside?" Loren stammered. What?

"Yes." Sonia smiled even more broadly. "It's a new mission, just being formed, to map out our arrival. In this generation! The team will be doing planetary surveys. Exploration and mapping. High danger, high chance of injury . . ."

"High reward." The Consort finally spoke again. "And we think you're perfectly suited as the team's biomechanic."

Loren stared back at the man of her dreams. Her mind was both blank and racing. Thoughts, half-formed, flitted through her head and then vanished, chased by other, even crazier thoughts. Finally, she managed, "Why me? There must be hundreds of better engineering techs in and out of the bio specialties."

"But none more daring. None with your initiative." Sonia again. "Look at what you've done, all the rules you've broken, the risks you've taken."

"But not . . . that wasn't for going Outside." She didn't want to die! Were they insane? Was she going to wake up at any moment, safe in her own bunk?

The Consort laughed. "No, of course not. As Sonia said, we can't advertise for this-we'd get all sorts of fools. You couldn't have known."

"We've had our eye on you for some time," Sonia went on. "When your gang boss first reported that you routinely modified your work logs to cover the fact that you finished jobs faster than anyone else, but didn't ask to take on a new a.s.signment, we knew you had ingenuity, and a strong sense of self-preservation."

"I . . ." Loren stammered. Gramma Francesca had known about the logs? She thought she'd hidden that without a trace.

"And when we reviewed the records of what entertainments you ordered, we knew you were a dreamer, a woman with imagination." The Consort, this time.

"No one without imagination survives Outside." Sonia gazed at Loren, her face serious, pleading.

They meant it, these people. But no, there was no way.

Unless . . .

"What is the reward?" she asked.

Sonia beamed back at her, and the Consort smiled and took a step forward. "Name your price."

Loren looked up into his eyes. "You."

His smile fell away and his eyes narrowed. "Don't be a fool, Citizen." Her heart sank at the tone of the Consort's voice. "I meant credits, privileges-anything you desire that one of your station can have. Extra rations, larger quarters. Any work a.s.signment you request upon your return."

"I don't want that." Loren felt herself filling with desperate urgency, a sense of recklessness. She had nothing left to lose. "If you've been researching me and watching me all this time, you know what I want. That's why you've been following me personally, isn't it? Haunting me. You know. And you know I won't settle for some stupid larger bunk and a dozen extra drinks per cycle. You know."

His expression was not changing as she spoke. She might as well be arguing with empty air. Beside her, Sonia looked sad, disappointed. It didn't mar the woman's loveliness any.

"Impossible," the Consort finally said.

Loren stared back at him. Up close, she could see the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. His hair was thinning, just a bit. His suit, though made of exquisite material, fit him rather too tight around the hips, too loose around the shoulders.

He was not perfect.

He was not the hero.

"Let me go below, then," she said. "Just send me back."

"It's not that simple," the Consort began, but Sonia interrupted: "Yes, it is. We haven't told her anything that isn't general knowledge, or at least general rumor." She looked at Loren. "You can go."

Who was in charge here? Surely the Consort outranked a mere guard? But the man only nodded, and within minutes, Loren was back in the same high-speed lift she'd come up on, carrying nothing but memories and hastily swallowed tears.

Loren slouched in Frame Zero, the small bar on Deck 47, two ration gla.s.ses of slivovitz on the table before her. The murmur of conversation surrounded her; she listened idly to it, picking up words here and there, but nothing coherent.

Nothing interesting.

Garen walked in, scanned the room, and saw her. His face broke into a broad grin as he came over to her table and sat down.

"Hi! I haven't seen you in days!"

"Yes. They've got me working over in the gardens at hullframe 280. A big duct rupture. Got to do a bunch of reconditioning."

Garen frowned briefly, then returned to grinning. "I'd love it if you'd show me some day . . ."

"No can do. I can't pull you off of your own important work." Gramma Francesca had him stripping bimetallic windings from old coil drive cores. Yes, her work gang boss didn't miss a trick.

He sighed, then seemed to notice the two drinks. "Oh! For me? Thanks!"

"No." Loren reached a hand out, ready to bat his away if he reached for one. But her tone was enough. Her tone, and her next words: "I've got a date."

"Oh." An awkward pause, as color rose in his sallow, unattractive face. Then he was gone.

"I've got a date," Loren whispered under her breath. "A date with a redhead . . ."

Life wasn't a romance, after all. Not in the usual, traditional sense: with tall handsome knights in shining armor. But that didn't mean it had to be boring.

THE BUSINESS OF LOVE.

Kelly Swails.

Seth sat on his bed and looked out the porthole window. He and his mother lived in one of the most exclusive sections of the ship Genesis, and here all the rooms had views to the emptiness of s.p.a.ce.

At least there are some perks to being my mother's son, he thought.

A quiet hum and a whiff of ozone told him the air exchanger had started, and he took a deep breath. He'd read in school that electron storms on terraformed planets smelled like that. He wondered if he'd ever find out first-hand. Sometimes, his girlfriend Chloe would hang out in his room just to watch the stars and talk about life outside the ships.

Chloe. She would hear whether or not she had been accepted to aviation school today. Seth checked the clock on his Messenger. Soon. She would hear soon.

A bell sounded before his door swooshed open. His mother walked into the room, her usual icy demeanor radiating throughout the s.p.a.ce. One didn't become CEO of the largest ship manufacturer in the galaxy without being formidable, and his mom fit the description. "We're expected at the Dorsey's suite at six. The president of Billsken will be there, so you need to look respectable. Did Adriana pull a suit for you?"

Adriana was one of his mother's a.s.sistants. He pointed to a garment bag hanging from a hook by his closet. "Doesn't it look like it?" Seth looked at his Messenger again. Nothing.

"It's important that you make a good impression on Dr. Fillus," she said. "You're not getting into his university on grades, we all know that, but he needs to see that you aren't a complete dolt."

Seth rolled his eyes. Others might see it as a perk, but special treatment was a downside of being the son of a CEO. Sure, he'd get into one of the most selective schools in the quadrant, but everyone would know he didn't deserve to be there, including him.

"Did it ever occur to you that I am a dolt and so he should know what he's accepting?"

"Don't be ridiculous." His mother ran a finger over his desktop and examined the dust on her finger. "Liza's slacking off. That's the third suite keeper this month."

Seth felt a ping of sympathy for Liza. It must be horrible to work for his mother. I'll find out soon enough. "What's ridiculous is the idea of me going there in the first place."

Mom leveled her gaze on him. Most people would sweat under her glare, or at the very least squirm, but he looked her in the eye. Neither of them blinked as she said, "Billsken's business program is the best. You'd need that degree to work in my office, let alone inherit the company."

"a.s.suming there's a company to inherit," he said.

Mom's gaze hardened and this time Seth stepped back before he realized he'd moved. "If the war with the Sysdian escalates-and all indications are it will-Genesis will be making warships for the next three decades."

Seth looked at her for several moments before looking away. His mother had planned that Seth would take over Genesis Corporation since the day he was born. Probably before then, if he knew his mother. His mind was too preoccupied with Chloe to argue about it now. He checked his Messenger-still nothing-as the bell outside his door rang.

"Expecting company?" his mother said.

"Chloe said she might come over." Don't make a scene.

She opened the door to find Chloe standing in the hall. "Will wonders never cease? A young girl who keeps her word." His mother left without saying another word.

Chloe's cheeks flushed as she came inside and the door closed. "Sorry about Mom," he began, then noticed her tear-streaked face. "Oh, no," he said.

"Oh, yes." She handed him her Messenger.

He took it as she sat on his bed and grabbed a tissue from the bedside table. He pressed his thumb to the ID square and an official message from Ithaca School of Flight blipped onto the little screen. Despite your exemplary academic record, we regret to inform you . . . He tossed her Messenger onto his desk and joined her on the bed.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She blew her nose. "Not as sorry as me."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brushed a lock of soft hair behind her ear. Seeing her upset made him feel helpless. He tried using his charm to cheer her up. "You look pretty cute when you cry."

She barked a short laugh. "Stop it."

"It's true. You do." Some girls looked like splotchy messes when they bawled, but not Chloe. She looked beautiful.

"Must be something about the way I sniffle," she said.

"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe it's because you're cute at everything you do." He turned her face to his and kissed her.

She returned it before flopping back onto the bed. "Oh, Lords. I've wanted to be a pilot ever since I saw a flight deck with my dad. I saw all those planes and scouters and fighters and I knew then I wanted to fly them, not fix them like he did. And now I won't get to."