you’ll fall … because stopping ends any chance of digging your way out. You push while people call you crazy. Maybe it isn’t healthy to do what you’re doing, but there’s no half measures. We fight or we don’t. If we quit, it’s over, and if we push – well, it’ll be worse before it gets better.”
The loudest sound in the crew lounge was the soft hiss of cooling fans, a faint burble from the autochef, which was percolating a fresh batch. Travers’s face was deeply reflective and Marin knew he was examining his own memories of the weeks they had spent in rehabilitation and physiotherapy after the incident on the ruined campus just above Hydralis. But the incident was brief, the radiation poisoning was treated quickly, effectively. Recovery was rapid, sure. The event did not compare with anything Vidal had endured, and Marin was grateful when Neil did not try to weigh one against the other.
At last Travers cleared his throat and said softly, “Give yourself a little respect for what you’re doing, Mick. It’s not a race.”
Vidal looked sidelong at his reflection in the armorglass. “Do you remember, Neil? The Delta Dragons, the Omaru blockade.” His left hand covered the tattoo, which looked almost like a scar on the too-thin face.
“We all remember.” Travers hesitated. “We were all about a hundred years younger. Curtis and I also remember the wraith that hauled itself out of the antique cryotank. You’re coming back, Mick. You’re probably halfway there, you just don’t realize it yet.”
The remark won him a rare, genuine smile. “Thanks.” Vidal offered his hand, and Travers took it. Vidal held on for a long moment, studying their laced fingers before he gave Marin a brooding look. “You really have been here. Done this,” he said as he let go Travers’s hand.
In that moment the Argos was as real as the Intrepid, and Marin was sure he felt a shade of color fade out of his own face. “I really have.” He set a hand on Vidal’s shoulder. “You need something, Mick, you tell us.”
“I will.” Vidal pulled his spine straight and mocked his reflection with a glare. “Somewhere along the line, I guess I decided to live. I still have a liver that doesn’t work, and a dick that can’t remember what it’s for … and Bill isn’t so optimistic on the subject of my gonads. My days of being the playboy Velcastran CityNet loved are probably over.”
“You don’t know that,” Travers remonstrated.
But Vidal only shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” Marin said, too loudly, causing Vidal to angle an almost amused look at him. “Give yourself a chance,” Curtis suggested. “You’re young. You’re going to meet somebody – it happens, Mick, and everything will be different.”
“I already met somebody,” Vidal said softly, looking once at Travers before he set the question aside. “Then everything went to hell, literally, and here I am. Oh, get the worried look off your face, Curtis! I was never going to try to get between you and Neil. You know me better.”
In fact, Marin did. He had no idea what had been on his face, but he drew a careful mask over his feelings. “It was Neil’s decision to make, unless you and I wanted to slug it out.”
“Oh, please,” Travers protested.
Vidal actually chuckled. “You never had a couple of young bucks duke it out over you?”
“Sure, it used to happen all the time,” Travers said facetiously. “The crewdeck of a super-carrier was the perfect place for young love to bloom.”
“And then you woke up,” Vidal finished. He tilted his head at them, curious, apparently fascinated by what he saw. “In fact, it did happen for you. You know it’s rare.”
“Very,” Marin agreed. “About as rare as the other end of the scale – Tonio Teniko.”
“And those hustlers we met in Henri Belczak’s house on Celeste.” Travers gestured vaguely over his shoulder, which might have been in the rough direction of
The loudest sound in the crew lounge was the soft hiss of cooling fans, a faint burble from the autochef, which was percolating a fresh batch. Travers’s face was deeply reflective and Marin knew he was examining his own memories of the weeks they had spent in rehabilitation and physiotherapy after the incident on the ruined campus just above Hydralis. But the incident was brief, the radiation poisoning was treated quickly, effectively. Recovery was rapid, sure. The event did not compare with anything Vidal had endured, and Marin was grateful when Neil did not try to weigh one against the other.
At last Travers cleared his throat and said softly, “Give yourself a little respect for what you’re doing, Mick. It’s not a race.”
Vidal looked sidelong at his reflection in the armorglass. “Do you remember, Neil? The Delta Dragons, the Omaru blockade.” His left hand covered the tattoo, which looked almost like a scar on the too-thin face.
“We all remember.” Travers hesitated. “We were all about a hundred years younger. Curtis and I also remember the wraith that hauled itself out of the antique cryotank. You’re coming back, Mick. You’re probably halfway there, you just don’t realize it yet.”
The remark won him a rare, genuine smile. “Thanks.” Vidal offered his hand, and Travers took it. Vidal held on for a long moment, studying their laced fingers before he gave Marin a brooding look. “You really have been here. Done this,” he said as he let go Travers’s hand.
In that moment the Argos was as real as the Intrepid, and Marin was sure he felt a shade of color fade out of his own face. “I really have.” He set a hand on Vidal’s shoulder. “You need something, Mick, you tell us.”
“I will.” Vidal pulled his spine straight and mocked his reflection with a glare. “Somewhere along the line, I guess I decided to live. I still have a liver that doesn’t work, and a dick that can’t remember what it’s for … and Bill isn’t so optimistic on the subject of my gonads. My days of being the playboy Velcastran CityNet loved are probably over.”
“You don’t know that,” Travers remonstrated.
But Vidal only shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” Marin said, too loudly, causing Vidal to angle an almost amused look at him. “Give yourself a chance,” Curtis suggested. “You’re young. You’re going to meet somebody – it happens, Mick, and everything will be different.”
“I already met somebody,” Vidal said softly, looking once at Travers before he set the question aside. “Then everything went to hell, literally, and here I am. Oh, get the worried look off your face, Curtis! I was never going to try to get between you and Neil. You know me better.”
In fact, Marin did. He had no idea what had been on his face, but he drew a careful mask over his feelings. “It was Neil’s decision to make, unless you and I wanted to slug it out.”
“Oh, please,” Travers protested.
Vidal actually chuckled. “You never had a couple of young bucks duke it out over you?”
“Sure, it used to happen all the time,” Travers said facetiously. “The crewdeck of a super-carrier was the perfect place for young love to bloom.”
“And then you woke up,” Vidal finished. He tilted his head at them, curious, apparently fascinated by what he saw. “In fact, it did happen for you. You know it’s rare.”
“Very,” Marin agreed. “About as rare as the other end of the scale – Tonio Teniko.”
“And those hustlers we met in Henri Belczak’s house on Celeste.” Travers gestured vaguely over his shoulder, which might have been in the rough direction of
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