PERSONAL RECORD: DESIGNATION ZETA4542910-9545E
PALLAS STATION
478.2.6.03
Lars followed Nate in and deposited a small bag on Kyleigh’s desk before offering greetings.
“You’re both okay?” Kyleigh demanded. “And Alec?”
“Alec is . . . stable.” Nate cleared his throat. “Max needs Edwards to run some scans to check for blood clots, but as far as they know, his trachea isn’t damaged. He’s got pretty deep bruising, though.”
“They’re taking him up to Thalassa?” Kyleigh asked, and I was glad she did, for my throat had tightened.
“Shuttle’s leaving in a couple hours to take us up for treatment,” Nate said. “They’re cautiously optimistic, yes. The rest of us will be fine. J’s untouched, which is standard. Only time I’ve seen her scuffed up is after sparring.”
“Don’t fib, Timmons,” Lars said. “You’ve got a hairline fracture.”
I pulled away, and the movement caused his mouth to tighten. “Nate, is this true?”
“Sure it is. Clavicle.” Lars cautiously lowered himself onto Kyleigh’s stool, which creaked alarmingly under his weight. “Maxwell and Jackson want him back on Thalassa for treatment, same as me, though I’m pretty sure I could tough it out like I’ve done before.”
My heart pinched. “Nathaniel!”
He glared at the marine. “Not the way I wanted to break that news, Lars.”
The taller man cocked his head. “Don’t see that hiding an injury makes it better.” He turned to me. “They’ve got those red-light things in the infirmary. Used them on that kid’s broken arm when he shunned nanites.”
Concern and confusion laced through me. “What do you mean? Which child?”
“It’s how Max treated Eric’s broken arm when he first came on board,” Kyleigh explained. “Advanced infrared light therapy.”
Nate brushed a gloved thumb over my cheek. “Max, Williams, and Edwards know their stuff. Like I said, I’ll be fine. Alec will, too. Zhen and Quincy are only bruised.”
Kyleigh’s eyes closed and her mouth moved silently, then she said, “What about Lytwin and Patterson?”
“Lytwin looks real bad,” Lars said. “Bad as Westruther from what I’ve heard, but Patterson is better. He ate breakfast and everything. The real good news is Michaelson’s out of the tank. Not up to much yet, but they’re sending him up to Thalassa to have the medicomputer check out his missing arm.”
“How or why would anyone examine an amputated arm?” Kyleigh asked.
“Ghosting,” the medic answered. “Checking for nerve damage, though my guess is they’ll send him to South Brisbane Research Hospital once we reach New Triton.”
“Well, I’m glad he pulled through.” Kyleigh glanced at Freddie’s mural again. “I’m tired of people dying.”
“I do not like death, either,” I said.
“No one does.” The medic shivered. She tugged her blanket off the bed and draped it around herself. “It’s why I chose field medic as a specialty. Do what I can while saving the system. Never thought I’d be the one in a quarantine room.”
Kyleigh rubbed a hand over her sternum. “Death is inevitable, but stars above, it hurts.”
A deep crease appeared across Lars’s forehead. “Sorry. About Freddie, I mean.” He reached in the bag and pulled out a prepackaged meal. “I . . . James made sure you didn’t get fish.”
I could not see any connection between the prepackaged meals and Freddie’s death, but Kyleigh said, “Thank him for me?”
“I will.” He grimaced. “Freddie was a good kid. It was downright decent of him to give up his name for James.”
The medic peered at Lars from her blanket-tent. “You really don’t mind that a Recorder is going to take that boy’s identity? I mean, it’s one thing for Dan. He earned it, and we all chipped in. No one will be erased.”
Kyleigh’s shoulders stiffened, and she crossed to the wall and leaned against the broad, black brushstrokes.
Lars grunted. “Nah. I don’t mind. From all I can tell, Recorders are basically good.”
“Not in my experience,” the medic began but stopped abruptly and looked at me.
Kyleigh whirled around. “How dare you say that? After she saved—”
“Kyleigh,” I said. “Please.”
“She needs to know.”
“Know what?” the medic demanded, her gaze darting between us.
Nate’s chin rose. “How you made it out of that hallway.”
“No,” I pled. “Not . . . not now.”
The air purifiers hissed in the brief silence.
“Don’t see why not,” Lars remarked, “but I guess it can wait.”
Anxiety gave way to relief, and I slumped back against Nate, though when he muffled a moan, I straightened.
“Anyways, I’m not saying Recorders are perfect, not any more than most of us.” Lars gestured broadly around the room. “But a lot of ’em stand up for what’s right. For the little guys, you know? Even the big ones.”
Kyleigh frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, when I was in school, I didn’t get the highest marks, and some of the kids teased me pretty bad.”
“Hate bullies, myself,” Nate said mildly.
“Not my favorite, either. Being bigger than other kids has its plus side, but big plus low marks paints as good a target as any shooting range.”
Indignation rippled through me. “Such behavior is unacceptable.”
Lars grinned and pointed in my direction. “See?”
“Yeah.” Nate’s voice softened. “I know.”
“So, right after we got a new Recorder at our school, some of the older kids were picking on me, and the Recorder pulled me aside and said I had two choices.” Lars shifted his weight, and the stool creaked. “‘You can be bitter, or you can be better,’ she said. So I decided to find the good things. Be thankful. Not always easy, you know?”
“No,” Kyleigh said slowly. “It isn’t.”
The medic fingered the spreading bruise under her chin where the man had injected her. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
Though my experience verified Lars and Kyleigh’s claim, the medic’s statement resonated with an ache in my chest. Nate took my hand and did not let go.
“Yeah.” Lars cocked his head in the medic’s direction. “Sometimes looking for good isn’t easy.”
Her hand still on Freddie’s wide brushstrokes, Kyleigh pivoted toward him. A single tear on her cheek shone like mercury. “Sometimes you can’t find them on your own.”
“What do you mean?” the medic asked.
Whether she addressed Kyleigh or Lars, the towering marine answered first. “For me, it meant Clarissa.” The overhead lights’ glare on his faceplate partially obscured Lars’s grin. “Met her when I was in my last year of school. Best girl in the system. Smart, pretty, a year younger. Don’t know why she took a chance on me.”
Kyleigh grabbed a tissue and scrubbed her face dry. “She sounds lovely.”
“She was—still is. Anyway, I broke it off when I turned eighteen and finished school, since she’s younger. I knew she could go on to university and do something with her life more than get stuck with someone like me, so I joined up with the marines.”
“Excuse me?” The medic glared at Lars. “Joining up isn’t just an option for people with low marks.”
“No one said it was,” Nate interposed. “Did four years myself after university before J, Alec, and I saved up enough to start freelancing.” When I looked up at him, he winked. “Got shot at a lot less. Maybe I should join up again.”
“Nate,” I protested.
He squeezed my hand. “It’ll be okay.”
Kyleigh kept her eyes on the tall marine. “But what happened with Clarissa?”
“Soon as she turned eighteen, she tracked me down. Before she was even out of school. I was back on New Triton, and she took an express from Destiny to Albany City to give me a right sharp lecture about never giving up on people.” Lars’s smile radiated, as crisp as starshine. “Worst fight of our lives.”
Not wishing to interrupt his narrative to ask why an argument would make him happy, I glanced at Nate instead. He was grinning, too, reaffirming my suspicion that citizens frequently did not make sense.
“She went on to the teaching college in Destiny, and I went back to work. Kept in touch long distance, and I was a little scared she’d find someone better than me. Saved every credit I could while she finished up.” Lars’s smile broadened. “Never been as nervous as I was, asking her to contract. Figured she’d say no. Stars, I think I’d rather face roaches than go back and ask her again.”
Kyleigh darted Nate a look, and his hand tightened around mine.
“But she said yes?” she whispered.
“Said she’d never wanted anyone else. Bought a ten-year contract, even though everyone thought it was foolish—two kids tying themselves up long-term, but it was the best decision of my life.”
“So she’s all right?” Kyleigh asked. “Is she waiting for you now?”
He jabbed his thumb at the door then winced and blew out a slow breath. “Yep. She wants me to stick around more, but problem is, I’m not much good at anything else. Most of the other jobs I’m qualified for are on the belts. Not taking Clarissa there. She’s back in Albany City, teaching little kids. Like I said, she’s the clever one.” His expression faltered. “Clarissa wasn’t too thrilled I was going on this trip, and if she knew where I was, she’d really worry. Doesn’t like tunnels, germs, or bugs at all—she washes her hands an awful lot.” He studied the wall behind me. “Might not tell her.”
The medic rolled her eyes. “She’ll know soon enough. It’ll be all over the news vids.”
Lars’s expression fell. “True.”
Kyleigh glared at the medic. “She’ll be proud, though, Lars, won’t she?”
He brightened. “Yeah, I think so. She says she wants me to quit, but”—he lowered his voice—“I think she likes the uniform.”
Nate let out a crack of laughter, then stopped abruptly. His hand rose to his shoulder. I moved closer, hoping he would lean on me, if needed. He did.
“Got the call to report while I was washing breakfast dishes. Tell you what. I was downright excited about this gig, myself. Good danger bonus. It might cover that permanent contract we’ve been talking about for the past few years.”
The thermal blanket crinkled as the medic snugged it closer. “Why would you saddle yourself to one person forever like that?”
“Because I learned my lesson.” Lars turned suddenly serious eyes on Nate and me. “When you find the best prize in the system, you don’t let go.”