Kassa’s disaster, Garcia.”
“At least tell me you’ll sell that list.” He was whining, which was unlike him. Usually he blustered or threatened when money was involved. Prudence decided he was developing a conscience. Given his past, it was almost certainly a painful process.
“We’re going to do everything we can to prevent anybody else from getting rich off it, too. The news goes out on a public broadcast as soon as we reenter normal space.” It was the best thing she could do for Kassa. The more freighters that knew about it, the less any of them could gouge.
Melvin had been next, paging her from the gunnery console.
“The laser’s still broken, Pru.” He said it like it was her fault. Melvin had become increasingly volatile since his exposure to the wreck. “We’re unarmed. What if we get attacked?”
What good would a stupid mining laser do? They had been lucky the first time. Just a dumb mine. If they met a real combat ship—even one of those little fighters—they would die in the first pass.
“We won’t be attacked, Melvin. There will be Fleet swarming through all the hops between here and Altair.”
Garcia rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. “Assuming they haven’t already destroyed Fleet.” She’d told him about the alien wreck. She had to; he was part of her crew. He deserved to know.
“What if they’ve already blown up Fleet?” Melvin asked, his voice rising.
She snapped at him through the microphone. “Then we’re better off running, instead of waiting here for them to come back and finish the job.”
Silence from the intercom. He’d turned it off, the most insulting thing he could imagine. That being cut off from him was a relief to everyone else was not the sort of thing Melvin would understand. He couldn’t bear to be unheard, so he assumed no one could bear to not hear him.
Garcia walked out, and left Prudence with Jorgun. For a moment she wished she was still arguing with Melvin.
“Will we come back and see Jelly?” Jorgun asked.
She had already told him the truth, but he kept asking. She could not determine how much he understood, whether he was in denial or simply expressing his grief, holding on to her memory with the only thing he had left. In either case, there was only one thing she could do now.
She lied. “When we can, Jor. When we can.”
It was a double lie. They would never see Jelly again; they would never come back to this planet. She would never put her ship where Kyle Daspar’s impressment papers could reach it.
He had left her bridge when she had told him to. He had left her ship when they landed, running to the whistle of his master on the Phoenix . He had let her go in silence.
All the way out to the node-point, she had pushed the edge of safe velocity, eager to escape before he called her back. She had congratulated herself on slipping out while the Phoenix was too preoccupied to realize its mistake.
But in the seconds before they entered the node, in the last instant that they could still interact with the outside world, she had discovered a part of herself waiting for the comm board to light up. Hoping for a word from him, even if it was only “good-bye.”
A curious desire to hold toward a man she despised. A man that represented her worst nightmare. As much as she detested his authority, she still missed his competence.
Now she sat on the bridge, preparing to reenter the universe. Not entirely certain of what she would find out there, and four days of worrying about it gnawing at her belly. Melvin couldn’t take the strain; he’d snuck off somewhere and hid, no doubt stoned again. Garcia pretended indifference, claiming fate was in the hands of some nebulously defined supernatural entity, but she had seen him drinking heavily in these last few hours. Only Jorgun was immune. Jorgun could not comprehend his own death any better than he could comprehend Jelly’s. He was asleep in his bunk, oblivious.
Prudence had other
“At least tell me you’ll sell that list.” He was whining, which was unlike him. Usually he blustered or threatened when money was involved. Prudence decided he was developing a conscience. Given his past, it was almost certainly a painful process.
“We’re going to do everything we can to prevent anybody else from getting rich off it, too. The news goes out on a public broadcast as soon as we reenter normal space.” It was the best thing she could do for Kassa. The more freighters that knew about it, the less any of them could gouge.
Melvin had been next, paging her from the gunnery console.
“The laser’s still broken, Pru.” He said it like it was her fault. Melvin had become increasingly volatile since his exposure to the wreck. “We’re unarmed. What if we get attacked?”
What good would a stupid mining laser do? They had been lucky the first time. Just a dumb mine. If they met a real combat ship—even one of those little fighters—they would die in the first pass.
“We won’t be attacked, Melvin. There will be Fleet swarming through all the hops between here and Altair.”
Garcia rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. “Assuming they haven’t already destroyed Fleet.” She’d told him about the alien wreck. She had to; he was part of her crew. He deserved to know.
“What if they’ve already blown up Fleet?” Melvin asked, his voice rising.
She snapped at him through the microphone. “Then we’re better off running, instead of waiting here for them to come back and finish the job.”
Silence from the intercom. He’d turned it off, the most insulting thing he could imagine. That being cut off from him was a relief to everyone else was not the sort of thing Melvin would understand. He couldn’t bear to be unheard, so he assumed no one could bear to not hear him.
Garcia walked out, and left Prudence with Jorgun. For a moment she wished she was still arguing with Melvin.
“Will we come back and see Jelly?” Jorgun asked.
She had already told him the truth, but he kept asking. She could not determine how much he understood, whether he was in denial or simply expressing his grief, holding on to her memory with the only thing he had left. In either case, there was only one thing she could do now.
She lied. “When we can, Jor. When we can.”
It was a double lie. They would never see Jelly again; they would never come back to this planet. She would never put her ship where Kyle Daspar’s impressment papers could reach it.
He had left her bridge when she had told him to. He had left her ship when they landed, running to the whistle of his master on the Phoenix . He had let her go in silence.
All the way out to the node-point, she had pushed the edge of safe velocity, eager to escape before he called her back. She had congratulated herself on slipping out while the Phoenix was too preoccupied to realize its mistake.
But in the seconds before they entered the node, in the last instant that they could still interact with the outside world, she had discovered a part of herself waiting for the comm board to light up. Hoping for a word from him, even if it was only “good-bye.”
A curious desire to hold toward a man she despised. A man that represented her worst nightmare. As much as she detested his authority, she still missed his competence.
Now she sat on the bridge, preparing to reenter the universe. Not entirely certain of what she would find out there, and four days of worrying about it gnawing at her belly. Melvin couldn’t take the strain; he’d snuck off somewhere and hid, no doubt stoned again. Garcia pretended indifference, claiming fate was in the hands of some nebulously defined supernatural entity, but she had seen him drinking heavily in these last few hours. Only Jorgun was immune. Jorgun could not comprehend his own death any better than he could comprehend Jelly’s. He was asleep in his bunk, oblivious.
Prudence had other
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