The Outback Stars

CHAPTER


THIRTY-SIX





J

odenny didn’t see Myell for the next five days. Every day she asked about him and every day her handlers said, “He’s fine, Lieu-tenant.” She suspected he was being held at the same secluded facility she was, but had no evidence and no way of finding out. Her room had a bed, a desk, and an adjoining head, but no deskgib, comm units, or media access. The wallvids showed her a picture of a deep, tranquil forest at the height of summer, with simulated sunrises and sunsets. The door locked and unlocked only when guards came to es-cort her to medical appointments or debriefings. Not interrogations, her handlers told her. Debriefings.



“Please draw for us all the glyphs you saw on the ouroboros,” they asked, and she managed to sketch out a dozen or so. They showed her others, but she couldn’t say for sure whether or not she’d seen them. Jodenny was also interviewed, extensively, about the worlds she had visited, and their formation of Spheres. More than once she was asked to recount the exact events that had taken her, Chiba, Myell, and Osherman on their journey.



“Tell us again why you decided to split up,” said one of her inter-rogators. None of them wore insignia or uniforms, and Jodenny wasn’t sure if they were Team Space or some kind of ultrasecret civil-ian intelligence agency.



Jodenny said, “He wanted to keep going through the Sphere we’d been traveling through. Sergeant Myell and I didn’t think we’d sur-vive it.”



The interrogator consulted his gib. “Sergeant Myell had another idea. Based on information he received from a snake.”



The interrogator’s voice was mild, his expression blank. Jodenny said, “If you bring him in here, you can ask him yourself.”



The interrogator didn’t answer. He was about fifty years old, with short black hair and bright green eyes. He was physically fit, with the ramrod-straight posture of a military man. He said his name was Wolf, which seemed unlikely. He was in charge of the others—the woman with a heart-shaped face, the younger man with a scar on his cheek. She wondered if he had ever gone traveling through a Sphere, or if he knew what it was like to set foot on an utterly new world.



Wolf and his friends didn’t seem seemed particularly interested in Chiba’s fate, though they asked repeatedly about Osherman. Late at night, unable to sleep, she pictured him lost in the network, lurching from one Sphere to the next. She wondered what fate was waiting for her and Myell. Would they ever be allowed to leave this place, wher-ever it was? Would Team Space try to suppress their memories as they had after the Yangtze?




“ I would like to see my lawyer,” she told Wolf on the third day.



“What is it you think you’ve done wrong?” he asked.



“I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong. But I’m being kept here incommunicado against my consent, and I haven’t been charged with anything. That violates the Seven Sisters Constitution.”



Wolf only said, “I see,” and went back to showing her pictures of different glyphs, asking if she recognized any from her travels.



Her hand had mostly healed up from the stinging shrub injury, though sometimes her fingers still tingled. The doctor who treated her was sure that the residual effects would fade.



“And the memory block?” Jodenny asked, letting her bitterness bleed through. “What about the effects from that?”



The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Your retrograde amnesia has been attributed to head injuries you received on the Yangtze. There’s no record of a memory block.”



“I’m not surprised,” Jodenny said. “It was put in without my per-mission.”



“Hmm,” the doctor replied, but said no more.



On the fifth day Jodenny woke early, did sit-ups and push-ups, showered under a welcome spray of hot water, and dressed in the civilian clothes they had given her. Breakfast was delivered on a tray by a young woman. Afterward two guards escorted her down several flights of stairs to a long hallway of closed doors. The building itself, decorated in soothing shades of dark gray and blue, was quiet all around her. She was shown into a conference room where Myell was sitting with Wolf.



He looked well enough, though there were dark circles under his eyes. He stood up immediately, saying, “Lieutenant Scott,” and in his voice she heard her own emotions: enormous relief, along with ap-prehension about their current situation.



She sat next to him, but not so close as to actually press her leg against his. Wolf, his expression as carefully blank as ever, said,

“Lieu-tenant, Sergeant, this morning marks the end of your debriefing. We’re satisfied that that you’re not holding back information about your experience. We’re grateful for your full cooperation to date, and would like to extend an invitation for you to join our project.”



Looking perplexed, Myell asked, “Which project is that, sir?”



“You need to ask?” Wolf replied.



“Exploring the Wondjina Transportation System,” Jodenny said.

“Finding out more about it.”



Myell said, “But it makes people sick. It wasn’t made for human use.”



Wolf steepled his hands together on the tabletop. “Your security clearances have been updated and backdated to the day you left Kookaburra. You’ll be signing your agreement to them shortly. What happened to you, and any information you’ve gained from that expe-rience, is strictly classified. If you were to speak of it to others, the en-tire project would be jeopardized. If you stay here, with us, you’d be able to explore the matter more fully with like-minded researchers and explorers. It’s a rare and precious opportunity.”



Jodenny sat back in her chair. The walls and overhead were smooth, but she imagined somewhere a camera was recording this session.



“Commander Osherman said we were somehow encoded,” she said.

“All we have to do is step into a Sphere from now on and the sys-tem will activate.”



Wolf’s expression gave nothing away. “Not exactly, but it’s accu-rate enough that you should never attempt it. We’ll be watching to make sure you don’t.”



“You’re not listening,” Myell said, to both of them. “It wasn’t made for us to use. Who knows what might happen if you keep sending people through—not just to them, but to all of us.”



“So you believe,” Wolf replied, leading Jodenny to wonder what exactly had transpired during Myell’s debriefings. Wolf continued. “If you join us, Sergeant, you’ll be able to see firsthand what accomplish-ments we’ve made and how the system could benefit everyone in the Seven Sisters. If you choose not to participate, you’ll be unable to tell anyone about your experience upon pain of court-martial or worse.”



Jodenny already knew what Myell’s answer would be. As for herself, she was sorely tempted to say yes. Traveling among the stars, setting forth on new planets, maybe meeting the Wondjina themselves—she could happily sign up for a project such as that. But then she remembered Myell’s heart stopping at the end, and his body lax in her arms.



“I want to return to regular duty,” she said. “I’m sure the Aral Sea’s departed by now, but perhaps the Alaska has an open billet.”



“Two open billets,” Myell insisted.



“You’ll never get another chance like this one,” Wolf warned.



Jodenny reached under the table and squeezed Myell’s hand, sur-veillance cameras be damned. “We know that.”



“Let’s hope you don’t regret it,” Wolf said, rising to his feet .



“What happens now?” Myell asked.



“Once you sign your new clearances we’ll notify Fleet that you’re ready for active duty. I’ll convey your request to return to ship duty, but nothing’s guaranteed.”



Jodenny asked, “You’re not going to erase our memories?”



Wolf’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not sure why Commander Osherman told you that story, Lieutenant. As far as our doctors can tell, nothing of the sort was done to you by Team Space. Or, if it was, the chemi-cal markers are no longer detectable.”



Jodenny pushed down a shiver. “Who else would want to block my memory of an ouroboros? And why?”



“I don’t know. If your memory had been intact, we would have simply debriefed you, offered you the same deal we’re offering you now, or sworn you to secrecy.”



Wolf left the conference room. The woman with the heart-shaped face came in with flatgibs for them to review and sign. Jodenny read through document after document that outlined her new security clearance and the penalties she faced if she violated its terms, includ-ing court-martial and life imprisonment. She would be bound to it for the rest of her life, even if she left Team Space and became a civilian. After she and Myell were done affixing their signatures, a guard took them down more stairs to a small self-service café and said, “If you’ll wait here, someone will be with you shortly.”



The guard took up position at the door. Jodenny grabbed a cup of horchata and slid into a booth. Myell’s coffee went untouched as he sat across from her and leaned forward intently.



“You’re all right?” he asked. “Your hand?”



Jodenny wanted to laugh. “It’s fine. You’re the one who stopped breathing.”



“I don’t remember much. Snow and ice, but nothing after that.”



“You’re okay now?” she asked, and it wasn’t so much a question as a reassurance. They were both alive and well, and would soon return to their professional lives. Though she was ridiculously happy just sit-ting with him, Jodenny had no idea what to do next about their rela-tionship. She could resign her commission. He could leave Team Space at the end of his contract. Or they could both continue on ac-tive duty, and willingly violate fraternization rules.




“Things are going to work out,” Myell said, as if reading her mind.

“Three months, and I’m free of Team Space.”



Jodenny clutched her cup. “You shouldn’t have to give up your ca-reer. You deserve to be a chief, and Team Space needs people like you.”



Myell glanced toward the guard, who didn’t appear to be listening to them. “I never figured myself for a career sailor. Whatever hap-pens, for the next three months you’re just another lieutenant and I’m just another sergeant. Easy, right?”



He smiled, but she could see that the effort was for her sake. Three months was manageable, she supposed, though it sounded like a life-time. She was still mulling it over when another guard came to take them to their rooms, where fresh uniforms in correct sizes and with proper insignia had already been laid out. Twenty minutes later Jo-denny was escorted to an underground parking facility, where Myell was standing outside a limousine-flit with tinted windows. He looked as uncomfortable in his uniform as she felt in hers.



“Our ride, apparently.” Myell held open the passenger door. “After you, Lieutenant.”



Jodenny slid into the cool, dark interior and was startled to find a three-star admiral sitting inside.



“Ma’am!” Jodenny said.



“So you’re the infamous Lieutenant Scott,” Admiral Nilsen said flatly, and waited until Myell was seated beside Jodenny. “The equally infamous Sergeant Myell. How exciting for me to meet you both.”



“Thank you, Admiral,” Myell said, a little tentatively.



The car began moving. The windows made it impossible for Jo-denny to see where, but her attention was in any case focused solely on the woman across from her.



“I’ll be brief,” Nilsen said. “The Aral Sea hasn’t left orbit. Her departure was delayed. Captain Umbundo is adamantly opposed to your returning onboard. The legal investigation into the smuggling ring is still ongoing, there have been several internal reassignments, no one has been able to locate Agent Ishikawa, and he has enough on his hands without you two adding to the mixture. Several of my staff have suggested I simply stick the two of you in the dullest, drabbest jobs possible, somewhere where you can’t possibly cause any more trouble than you have already.”



“Yes, ma’am,” Jodenny said, her stomach churning.



Nilsen continued. “At the same time, it’ll be less of a hassle for my office if you’re far away from curious journalists. We’ve squelched most of the reports of you two disappearing in the middle of a Mother Sphere, but interest isn’t going to die anytime soon.”



Myell spoke up. “The media can’t reach us if we’re on the Aral Sea, ma’am.”



“My point, exactly.” Nilsen tapped something on her gib. The flit sped up. “Truth be told, I have my doubts about you, Lieutenant Scott. You received excellent evaluations on the Yangtze, your actions during that disaster deservedly earned the MacBride Cross, and I’m told that aside from disobeying Commander Osherman’s orders, you were performing well on the Aral Sea. But the rumors of fraterniza-tion are discouraging, you sometimes let your emotions overrule your head, and you have a tendency to jump the chain of command when things don’t go your way.”



Myell protested, “It’s not like that at all—”



“No.” Jodenny felt herself blush, but she held the admiral’s gaze. “It’s all right. It’s true.”



Nilsen lifted her chin. “On the other hand, my nephew speaks quite highly of you, and by all accounts you’ve treated him better than any other division leader he’s ever had.”



“Your nephew?” Myell asked.



The corner of Nilsen’s mouth quirked. “Peter Dicensu’s not the brightest sailor ever to join Team Space, but he means well. He speaks well of you too, Sergeant Myell. Commander Al-Banna says that your recent evaluations are not representative of your true performance. He also believes you were unfairly accused in the mat-ter of AT Ford and have been cleared in regard to certain inventory ir-regularities. He thinks you might have a promising career, if you don’t derail it with hasty choices.”



Myell said, “Choosing to get off a train isn’t the same as derailing myself, ma’am.”



“I’m not much for transportation metaphors,” Nilsen said. “I also didn’t get to the position I have because I followed every rule and reg-ulation that came my way. Neither one of you should take that as ad-vice. Merely consider it a point of information.”



The flit slid to a stop. The passenger door opened on its own, re-vealing a busy curb at the Waipata spaceport. Nilsen said, “Better hurry if you want to make that last birdie.”



“Thank you, ma’am,” Jodenny said, and Myell echoed.



They raced through the terminal and boarded the last shuttle to the Aral Sea with only moments to spare. “I forgot Dicensu had an aunt,” Myell said, once they were safely in their seats.



Jodenny leaned back and let her eyes close. “Thank goodness for nepotism.”



* * * *



T

heir first stop back on the ship was the Supply Flats. Al-Banna had stayed behind on Warramala to fulfill his Inspector General duties, and Captain Umbundo had elevated Lieutenant Commander Wildstein to Supply Officer for the duration of their cruise. Wildstein didn’t seem either pleased or displeased to see them, and she asked no questions about what had happened on Warramala. To Jodenny she said, “You. Flight Support. Commander Rokutan needs an Assistant Division Officer.”



Myell didn’t like the idea of Jodenny working for Rokutan, even though whoever she slept with prior to their relationship was really none of his business. Jodenny didn’t look excited, either, but off she went without a farewell glance.



“You,” Wildstein said to Myell, “are staying right here. Bartis is in the brig for aiding and abetting Chiba and someone’s got to clean up this place.”



Myell gazed unhappily at the piles of work on Bartis’s desk. “Yes, ma’am.”



Underway Stores was being run by Ensign Ysten, who most people believed was in over his head. The Maintenance division had been reorganized, with Lieutenant Commander Zarkesh moved over to Tower Ops because of his failure to properly supervise Quenger and Chiba. Lieutenant Anzo and several members of the Data Depart-ment had been relieved of their duties pending indictment as part of the smuggling ring, as had Commander Senga from Security.



“Always knew he was a rotten one,” Timrin said that night, at Myell’s welcome-back dinner. VanAmsal was there, as well as Chang, Minnich, Kevwitch, Amador, and several others. No matter how much they asked, Myell refused to discuss what had happened while trapped in the tower with Jodenny or anything that had occurred on Warramala.



It didn’t take him long to discover that Chaplain Mow was no longer onboard. As with Dr. Ng, she had been hastily transferred to Fleet on Warramala, no explanation given. Governor Ganambarr and the Abo-riginal colonists in T9 had all departed, leaving him with no one he could confide in or consult. Neither the snake nor the Wirrinun had ap-peared since his trip among the stars, and he wasn’t sure he would ever see them again. He felt an unexpected loss at that, but relief as well.



Four days after leaving Warramala the ship dropped into the Alcheringa and started downriver to Baiame. After a while people stopped asking Myell about Chiba and the smugglers. Eva sent a few imails that he refused to answer. Slipping back into normal routine wasn’t as hard as he feared it would be, except that as the days and weeks dragged on he saw precious little of Jodenny. She never came to the Flats, no longer frequented the E-Deck gym, and rarely went over to the Rocks. Apparently she spent all of her time either at work, on watch, or in the Supply wardroom.




VanAmsal said, “I heard Rokutan’s keeping her at arm’s length. That’s a boys’ club over there, you know?”



“Any rumors about…” Myell tried to sound nonchalant. “Them being together?”



VanAmsal rolled her eyes. “Is that what you think of her?”



No. He didn’t. But he certainly wished he were working for Jodenny again. Wildstein was relentless. She came in early, worked through lunch, and went home late. She had rigid paperwork re-quirements, and took great satisfaction in reprimanding Myell about something new every day.



“These evaluations should be filed by MOC code, Sergeant, not alphabetically,” she would say. Or, “Why haven’t you finished the DLRs I gave you an hour ago?” A few days before they reached Baiame she asked, “Why is it, Sergeant, that you can never remember to put in-coming requisitions in my middle tray, not the top one?”



He was tempted to tell her exactly where she could put those req-uisitions. But then Wildstein’s gaze focused on the clock and she asked, “Shouldn’t you be at the chief’s exam?”



“No, ma’am,” Myell said. “I’m getting out of Team Space when my contract expires.”



“That’s a plan.” Wildstein took the requisitions from him. “Then again, plans change. Go take that exam, Sergeant. The results won’t be announced until we get to Fortune. If you pass, you might stay in. And if you get out, at least you’ll have it on your record for future employers to see.”



He supposed she had a point, but he was woefully unprepared. Weeks had passed since he’d practiced any questions. Nevertheless he got RT Sorenson to cover the office and hurried up to the audito-rium. Several officers were stationed at the registration desks, Jodenny among them. She looked rested and healthy, and in no way pining for him.



“Sergeant Myell.” Ensign Hultz had him sign in. “I heard you weren’t taking the exam.”



Myell took a tablet gib. “Figured I’d give it a shot.”



He sat near VanAmsal, who was already hard at work. Myell con-centrated on the questions and ignored Jodenny. In the second hour the exam changed to essay format, and in the third he was faced with a harder series of fill-in blanks. The auditorium was quiet but for breathing and the tap-tap-tap of gibs.



Just after noon, with his stomach growling and vision beginning to blur, Myell finished up, turned his gib in, and headed for the mess decks. As the lift doors were closing he heard Hultz call, “Hold up!” and she boarded, along with Jodenny and some officers he didn’t know from the Navigation Department.



“I’m just saying,” a lieutenant said. “It wasn’t my idea in the first place.”



“You can’t wriggle out that easily,” one of his friends said.



Jodenny didn’t participate in the conversation. She stood with her gaze on the deck indicator, expression inscrutable. As the decks con-tinued to slide by she didn’t look his way once, not even a tiny bit. The lift stopped at the mess deck to let everyone out. Myell abruptly changed his mind and headed upladder for the vending machines on the Flats.



“So how was the test, Sergeant?” Wildstein asked when he re-turned to the office.



“I think I passed,” he said. It was Jodenny who had failed, and he was determined to tell her so.



* * * *



L

ieutenant Scott, I relieve you,” said Lieutenant Hamied.



“I stand relieved,” Jodenny said, and suppressed a yawn. She had qualified to stand Command Duty Officer shortly after they left Warramala, and this was the third night watch she’d pulled in a week. Someone in Scheduling obviously held a grudge. Jodenny didn’t mind. The alternative was lying alone in her lonely bed, thinking about Myell, and that only led to frustration and sadness. Funny how just one month of separation could feel like ten years. In some ways it was better to stay completely away from him, to pretend he was on some other ship or planet, than to catch fleeting glimpses in the pas-sageways. Two days earlier they’d boarded the same lift, and his nearby presence had been enough to send her spiraling back to the too-short time they’d had together on Warramala, the memory of his body pressed against hers. Not being able to reach out and touch him was a worse punishment than anything Team Space could have dreamed up.



But just two more months, she told herself. The Aral Sea was soon due to slide out of the Alcheringa and arrive at Baiame. Flight opera-tions would begin almost immediately, with tower releases com-mencing three days hence. In a week they’d depart the last of the Seven Sisters and begin the long trek toward Fortune. Jodenny could keep her feelings at bay until then. No problem at all.



The bridge was beginning to liven up with the arrival of the morn-ing shift. Jodenny took a three-hour nap in her cabin, then went up to the officers’ gym for a few kilometers on the treadmill. A hot shower and extra sugar in her horchata made the world more manageable. She made it to Flight Support a half hour before the Alcheringa drop. Rokutan was up in Ops, going over final fuel schedules.



“Hey, Lieutenant,” said Sergeant Gordon, who was busy on the deskgib she and Jodenny shared. “How was your midwatch?”



“No problems.” Jodenny cleared off a corner chair. She’d thought the Flight Support office was small when she first saw it, but now she knew it was absolutely minuscule. She glanced out the open hatch to the row of shuttles lined up on the hangar deck. Beyond them, the Fox fighters were queued up for launch. A group of pilots were de-briefing in the center of the hangar, and a sudden burst of laughter rose above the sounds of machinery.



Gordon glanced upward. “The commander left that handmail for you. And he wants to know how you’re doing on the safety manual.”



Jodenny picked up the pile. Rokutan had welcomed her to the di-vision warmly enough, but all she’d done for a month was sort mail, take attendance at morning quarters, and update the division safety manuals.

“You’ve got to work up to it,” he’d said when she expressed a desire to do more. Because he seemed to be happily dating a lieu-tenant from Admin, she didn’t think he was holding their casual en-counter against her. “He’s defending his turf,” Vu had said, which was silly. She didn’t expect to make Division Officer again for a long time, whether it be on the Aral Sea or Alaska or any other freighter. She was no threat to his career.



Just after noon, the ship dropped out of the Alcheringa. The Flight Deck above them began launching robot recons to inspect the towers, soon to be followed by the foxes. Jodenny was more interested in the datastreams coming in from Baiame—local news and entertainment, along with any imail left for them by the last freighter to pass through. The news feeds seemed unusually skimpy, however.



“Maybe not so much has happened lately,” Gordon said.



Someone knocked. “Sergeant Gordon,” a voice said, and Jodenny snapped her head up to see Myell standing in the hatchway Myell continued. “Could you excuse us for a moment? The lieutenant and I need to talk.”



Gordon blinked. “Sure thing.”



When she was gone Myell deliberately closed the hatch, leaving just the two of them alone.



“Are you crazy?” Jodenny asked.



Myell gazed at her steadily. “Nowhere in ship’s regulations does it say that a lieutenant and a sergeant can’t have a private conversation behind closed doors.”




She rose. “You don’t think people are watching us?”



He advanced on her, his eyes dark and mouth grim. “We said we would keep this professional for three months. That doesn’t mean ig-noring me in public. It doesn’t mean not even saying ‘Good morning, Sergeant,’ or

‘How are you, Sergeant?’ in a lift.”



Jodenny flushed. “Ensign Hultz spoke to you.”



Myell took her by the arms, and the nearness of him nearly made her dizzy. “Ensign Hultz isn’t the woman I love.”



She would have answered but his mouth covered hers, and sud-denly everything that she thought mattered fell away under his de-manding kiss. Jodenny arched up against him, wanting him to touch her everywhere, eager to guide his hands under her uniform and around her hips. He groaned a little, and nuzzled the side of her neck.



“I’m sorry,” Jodenny whispered. “I shouldn’t have ignored you.”



“You never will again,” he vowed, and tightened his hold.



Which was exactly when the General Quarters began to shriek.



* * * *



F

or a moment all Jodenny could think was, Another goddamn drill. Of all the inopportune timing… but then something made an enormous whump on the deck above them, and fire alarms began to shriek along with the General Quarters. She froze in Myell’s arms.



“What the hell was that?” Myell asked, gazing at the overhead.



Holland spoke up. “Lieutenant, a General Quarters alarm has been triggered by Flight Operations. There has been a subsequent ex-plosion in the hangar outside your position. I highly advise against evacuating at this time.”



Myell moved Jodenny aside and started tapping on the deskgib. She felt ice-cold without him to ground her, and the comm an-nouncement did nothing to assuage her fears.



“Fire and Security crews to A and B Decks. This is a Level One alert.”



“Level One,” Jodenny murmured.



“Someone’s trying to board the ship,” Myell said. He didn’t elabo-rate on who that might be, but there were only a few possibilities. An unknown alien species might have popped out of nowhere, bent on the conquest of Team Space. The colonists of Baiame themselves had perhaps decided to revolt against the Seven Sisters. Or the Colo-nial Freedom Project had launched another terrorist attack.



Myell thumped the deskgib in disgust. “Vids are out. We can’t see what’s out there.”



Jodenny didn’t think she could move. Not when just outside the hatch was a hellish inferno of smoke and flame, and maybe burning bodies melting onto the deck, and who knew what kind of destruc-tion set off by whoever was trying to invade the Aral Sea. But some-how her rubbery legs supported her all the way to the hatch, where she pressed her hand against the metal and found it warm, but not searing hot.



Myell was examining the small office. Jodenny already knew there was no second exit, no convenient, man-sized air duct to make good an escape. They were sealed up in a corner of B-Deck, and by the time fire crews reached them they’d either be baked alive or suffo-cated by the fumes. Already the air was warm and acrid, oily in her mouth.



“Any EV suits?” Myell asked.



Jodenny shook her head.



The lights flickered, then dimmed to half power. Jodenny couldn’t hear anything from the hangar but she could imagine screams and moans, and the whoosh as the vacuum of space emptied compart-ments of air.



Myell wasn’t giving up. “Is there any firefighting equipment?”



“No.” Jodenny squeezed the word out. They didn’t even have an old-fashioned extinguisher full of foam or water.



He grimaced. “We’re going to have to go out the front door, then.”



Jodenny found that she could in fact move, especially when it came to grabbing his arm. “You heard Holland.”



“I heard,” he agreed, and though he didn’t say it, she could hear it in his voice: he trusted his own judgment over that of a computer program. Myell freed the belt from around his waist and quickly looped it between the two of them. “We’ll have to crawl out. Where’s the closest exit?”



“I don’t know.” Panic tinged her voice, and she didn’t bother to hide it.



Myell took her by the shoulders. “Jodenny, listen to me. We’re go-ing to get out of this, and get out together. But you have to think. Where’s the nearest exit?”



Jodenny swallowed hard, her throat tight. Diagrams of the hangar flashed before her eyes, fuzzy in some areas, crystal clear in others.

“About twenty meters to our right. There’s an escape tube with upladders and downladders, and maybe some EV suits.”



They tied parts of their shirts over their mouths to protect their airways, then crouched low and got the hatch open. It was a dark, smoky mess out there, impossible to see far. Suppression foam driz-zled down from the overhead, sticky and warm. Intense heat washed over Jodenny as she tried to make sense of shouts and muffled calls, and the blast of the General Quarters, and what might have been the high whine of mazer fire. Though he couldn’t possibly see where they were going, Myell began to crawl along the bulkhead toward the promised escape hatch. She followed on hands and knees, shaking so badly she thought she was maybe having a seizure.



“It’s not far!” Myell called back to her. How foolish he was. Twenty meters under these circumstances was easily equal to a half million kilometers. Doggedly she kept at his heels, choking on smoke, the deck hot beneath her unprotected hands. An explosion rattled her bones. A fuel tank on one of the birdies must have blown. Something clutched Jodenny’s ankle and she let out a yelp of fear.



“Terry!” she yelled. “Stop!”



But he couldn’t hear her over the klaxons and whoosh of flames. Jodenny reached for her ankle and touched someone’s raw, burned hand. Blindly she tugged three times on the belt that connected her to Myell and reached for the limp form of a sailor. He was too heavy for her to lift in any way, but she dragged him a few inches, paused to choke on smoke, then tugged him some more. Her lungs were sear-ing in her chest, and she could feel blisters forming on her face and eyelids. Burned alive was how they would be found. No MacBride Cross could protect against the element of fire. Without warning Myell’s hands fumbled next to hers, and suddenly he was pulling on the sailor and pushing Jodenny forward. As the bulkhead bumped up against her back she realized she was now in the lead. If she didn’t find the damned escape tube within seconds, all three of them were doomed.



Jodenny crawled, dragging her trembling, aching body forward and forward and even more forward, careful to keep the bulkhead at her right shoulder. She feared they would pass right by the airlock, but then the tiles under her pained hands changed texture. She rose against the bulkhead and jammed her finger against the ID plate. Fresh air lapped at her, cold as a winter breeze. She grabbed Myell’s shoulders and yanked with all her strength. He in turn brought the injured sailor with them, so that all three of them sprawled onto the small deck of the EV space and against the ladder that led up and down.



Jodenny was choking too hard to lift herself up. Through watering eyes she saw Myell’s dim outline as he rose on his knees and slapped the controls. Powerful fans whooshed to life, sucking the smoke out of the lock and replacing it with fresh atmosphere, but the damn klaxons continued to bang against her skull. Myell collapsed against Jodenny and they clung to each other. The sailor between them groaned, alive but seriously injured.




“Medbot activate!” Jodenny shouted, and the little robot swooped down to start administering emergency aid.



“We’re safe.” Myell kissed her forehead. “We’re alive.”



Something wet soaked into her sleeve. Not foam from Myell’s uni-form, but instead blood that was flowing down the side of his face. Jodenny discovered a chunk of metal embedded in his forehead just over his right eye. The eye was swollen shut.



Alarmed, she tried to stanch the bleeding. “Terry—”



He caught her hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay.”



It wasn’t okay. Myell’s eyes slid closed and he slumped against her, his body lax and heavy. Jodenny maneuvered him to the deck in a panic, barely aware of the stern voice now bellowing over her gib.



“Lieutenant Scott!” It was Captain Umbundo. “Respond if you can hear me.”



Jodenny blearily wondered what she had done wrong this time. “Sir?”

she croaked out. “Sir, we need medical assistance. I have two injured men here—”



“You need to go upladder to the Flight Deck,” Umbundo said. “We can’t get the clearshield to drop and the fire suppression equipment is damaged. There’s an emergency release near the hangar doors. Do you understand what I’m saying? You have to vent the Flight Deck.”



Jodenny squeezed her eyes shut. It would be so much easier to just go to sleep, all her cares and worries forgotten, Myell’s blood on her hands along with that of so many others.



“Everyone will die,” she pointed out, in what she thought was a reasonable tone of voice.



“Put out those fires!” Umbundo commanded. He must have as-sumed all of the Flight Deck crew were already dead, or so far gone it didn’t matter. “Do you understand me, Lieutenant? The entire ship is in peril.”



Jodenny staggered upright. Myell was unconscious, his breathing fast and labored. The injured sailor, his face bright red, was equally insensate. The medbot was doing its best for both of them and would have already transmitted their location back to Core. Jodenny groped for the EV suit hanging in its closet, got herself into it, and turned on the headset. Someone must have patched her into the bridge, because over the klaxons she could now hear Umbundo and other bridge offi-cers, and behind them, fire and repair reports.



“Lieutenant, do you understand what you have to do?” Umbundo asked. Under his words she could hear his unvoiced question: Do you understand you won’t be coming back?



“Yes, sir.” And so for the sake of ship and duty she began her long climb upward, the last trip Lieutenant Jodenny Scott would ever make.



* * * *





EPILOGUE





I

f Terry Myell spent one more day on the planet Baiame he might just end up hijacking a ship of his own and sailing off down the Alcheringa, regulations be damned. Of course, he wasn’t as stupid as to say the word

“hijack” aloud. Since the attempted takeover of the Aral Sea, everyone took that prospect way too seriously. That was de-spite the fact that the CFP

rebels who had boarded the Aral Sea had never gotten farther than A-Deck. Security had held back their ad-vances, and Jodenny’s jettison of the clearshield generators had taken care of the rest. Myell still resented Umbundo for ordering her into the inferno, but the tactic had worked well enough.



Still, here they were, a month later, the ship stuck in orbit around Baiame until the Alaska arrived. The CFP, emboldened by the destruction of the Yangtze, had toppled Baiame’s weak colonial gover-nor and seized Team Space assets shortly before the Aral Sea’s arrival. Now most of the rebels had fled to the hills, pursued by military and civilian security forces. Myell had been deployed planetside to help reorganize the supply stores, which had been raided and looted. But he had enlisted in Team Space specifically to get away from his home planet, and not even speeding a flit over the hills outside Pink Skunk could ease his restlessness.



“Could you slow down?” Jodenny asked from the passenger seat. She raised her perfectly healed hand and shielded her eyes against the sun. “We’ve got forty-eight hours’ leave, and I want to survive it mostly intact.”



Myell squeezed her knee and slowed down. He would do anything for her. After the aborted hijacking he’d woken up in Sick Berth suf-fering from burns and a head injury. Jodenny, ensnared in cables and other debris on the Flight Deck, had been pulled out of her EV suit with broken ribs, a skull fracture, severe burns to her right hand, and pulmonary edema. It had taken her a week to wake up, and another for her to understand his marriage proposal. One of the ship’s chap-lains had performed the ceremony in Sick Berth, with the bride and groom in adjacent beds and Commander Vu holding Jodenny’s bou-quet for her.



Before the ceremony, Captain Umbundo bestowed awards and field promotions. Jodenny received her second MacBride Cross and was now Lieutenant Commander Scott. Myell was issued a Silver Star, and made a Chief Petty Officer.



“The captain should have offered you a commission,” Jodenny said as they were settling into their new married quarters in T7.



He kissed her hand. “What would I do as Ensign Myell? Besides. Chiefs work for a living. Officers sit around and look pretty all day.”



“Killing fifty-three men wasn’t pretty,” she murmured, her eyes damp.



“It’s not that way at all.” Myell pulled her tight. “The Flight staff and Commander Rokutan were already dead or dying. You saved the ship.”



She still woke up screaming some nights, and he couldn’t blame her. He had his own nightmares to deal with. Usually they were about crawling through a hangar of fire or being lost in the Wondjina Transport System, but every once in a while they were about Daris or the Wirrinun or the Rainbow Serpent. While Jodenny was still in Sick Berth he had driven out to his parents’ farm, determined to put old demons to rest, but the place was gone. Flattened by the bank, the foundation covered over with dirt. His memories weren’t so easy to bury, but when the nightmares came he and Jodenny were there for each other, to hold and comfort in any small way possible, and for that he would always be grateful.



Now, on a bright hot day with several hours of shore leave still waiting to be filled, Myell stopped the flit on a hill. The capital city of Pink Skunk, with its prefab office buildings and well-planned park-ways, lay a few kilometers away, baking in the sun’s glare.



“That’s where I enlisted,” he said, conversationally.



Jodenny leaned against his shoulder. “On your eighteenth birthday. I saw that in your record.”



He had left home without Daris’s permission, and spent a terrified night in the Pink Skunk bus station fearing that his brother would show up and drag him back to the farm. The stern dictates of boot camp ser-geants had been pale in comparison to life at home. Team Space had fed him, trained him, and sent him down the Alcheringa, where he’d nearly gotten lost until Jodenny came into his life. He had tried to make her understand how she had saved him, but she simply insisted that they had saved each other.



Jodenny nuzzled his cheek. “Now you’re brooding.”



He kissed her soundly.



“Much better,” Jodenny said in approval. “So, have you thought more about Wildstein’s offer?”



“Was that an offer? I thought it was more like an order.” A wedge-tailed eagle glided by overhead, its golden wings almost as wide as Myell was tall. The rustle of its feathers reminded him of the hiss of a snake. “I don’t know if I’m the galley type.”




Neither was Jodenny sure she was ready to take on

Maintenance/Hazardous Materials. She would rather she and her newly minted chief—her husband, she reminded herself, though the wedding ring on her finger was never far from sight—spend the entire trip back to Fortune holed up in their quarters, leisurely and hedonistically enjoy-ing the cruise. But change was a Team Space constant, and she was looking forward to getting back to work after weeks of recuperation and light duty.



Myell had his eyes on the hawk circling overhead. Jodenny asked,

“Will you be happy? Staying in Team Space, married to an officer, un-able to tell people about traveling through the Spheres?”



“If you’re beside me, yes,” he said, with no hesitation in his voice.

“Will you?”



The trip back to Fortune. More personnel problems. Politics as usual, reports and paperwork, the gossiping and backstabbing. She didn’t think she would ever rest completely easy until she knew why her memory had been blocked and what had happened to Osherman and Ishikawa, but it had been weeks since she had thought about the Yangtze. The happiness she had found with Myell could be with her every day, as permanent a part of her life as much as anything could be considered permanent in such a day and age.



“Yes,” Jodenny said. The golden hawk dipped its head, let out a sharp cry, and flapped away into the clear sky. “I will.”