Ariane took the slate and looked at the effective date-time stamp. Was
this to cover Edones’s ass, or hers? Then she realized that AFCAW would have covered her
medical bills, if she’d required more serious treatment. He was being more considerate than she
gave him credit for—but it also meant that he had control over any sort of Intelligence data
she might have gleaned in this period. So perhaps this action wasn’t altruistic after all. It
didn’t matter; these emergency recall orders went into effect regardless of her opinion. She
thumbed the slate and handed it back to the woman.
“You’re free to go whenever you like, Major.” She smiled and hesitated,
drifting farther into the room. “By the way, as one of the three thousand survivors in this
system—thank you. We all appreciate what you did.”
“Oh. You’re welcome.” Ariane expected that Terra and CAW would have
squelched all news of a “loose TD weapon”—but even the Directorate of Intelligence and yes,
even Owen, were powerless in the face of rumor and gossip.
“And perhaps you should know,” continued the sergeant, looking quickly
out the door. “That creepy Minoan in black stops by three times a shift to see if you can be
interviewed. You’ve got about an hour before it comes by again.”
Ariane didn’t have to be warned twice. There was one thing on her mind
now, and she knew the
Pilgrimage III
well enough to find it. One
deck up and she entered the crew lounge and bar. It was crowded, but with everybody hunkering
behind anything with a magnetosphere right now, she wasn’t surprised.
Two walls showed multiple feeds; a third wall had the bar. Across the
lounge, Matt sat with the young woman lieutenant, whose name she couldn’t remember, from the
Bright Crescent
. She took a step toward their table, but paused,
feeling like she was intruding. Matt looked young and unscarred, making her feel bitter and
scarred inside. He deserved someone more like himself: fundamentally happy, optimistic, and
with nothing to hide
. Ariane turned away from the couple.
“Ariane! Good to see you up and walking.” Hal, the loadmaster she’d met
on Beta Priamos Station, waved her over.
“Hal? What are you doing here?”
“We brought in your Sergeant Joyce. We loaded the
Golden Bull
with tons of extra shielding, making it the most expensive cargo
run in my life. But we had to do it, to get him to medical support.”
“Is he that bad?” Her spirits fell and her stomach felt hollow. “Maybe I
should go see him.”
“He can’t have visitors. He’s barely hanging on, but the
Pilgrimage
has good facilities and they’re hopeful he’ll pull through, provided
he can accept his own vat-grown organs.”
“He can.” Ariane didn’t explain why she knew this. She glanced over her
shoulder. Matt and his companion—name of Oleander, she remembered—were deep in
conversation.
“So how ’bout a beer?” Hal asked, gesturing to the bar seat next to him.
“I’ll buy the first round.”
Ariane watched Lieutenant Oleander lean forward and rest her hand on
Matt’s forearm. They were both laughing. She looked around the rest of the room. People were
enjoying themselves, eating and drinking away the knowledge they’d come close to death. They’d
felt the dank breath that usually chased them only in their dreams, and they wanted to forget
it. Some knew just how close their sun had come to going nova, while others merely thought
they’d escaped a madman’s plan for an abysmal future. She cocked her head.
“What are you doing?” Hal’s eyes narrowed.
“Listening.”
“For what?”
She spent another moment absorbing the babble. If Major Tafani’s voice
was expressing disapproval inside her head, she couldn’t hear him. Likewise, no ghosts
whispered.
“Nothing.” She smiled, and reached for the beer that had appeared as if
by magic in front of her. “Nothing at all.”