PERSONAL RECORD: DESIGNATION ZETA4542910-9545E
PALLAS STATION
478.2.7.01
I stayed in the quarantine room for another two days, with very few visitors. Even Nate had been scarce, since he and the other pilots ran almost nonstop trips to Thalassa and back. Daniel left the station, and nothing went amiss. Before James departed as well, he brought me a cane he had fashioned from a wooden table leg, smoothed and polished until it gleamed. Max had paced the quarantine room for hours until Nate returned with the news that James was safely ensconced in the room Freddie had shared with Eric and Cam.
“Go eat something, Max,” he said quietly. “Maybe catch a nap.”
“We’ll have thirty or so days to rest.”
“J’s in the break room.” Nate casually inspected his fingernails. “Just don’t let her make you tea. She forgets to take out the bag. Oversteeps it every time.”
Max chuckled. “Maybe a bit to eat would be helpful, but I’ll remember about the tea.”
Nate watched him leave.
His eyes caught mine, but I spoke first. “Nate? I must confess, I did not call for you when I went to fetch the drone. Kyleigh did.”
“When . . .” Perfect brows drew together. “Oh. I figured that out a while ago, sweetheart.”
“Forgive me?”
“Already done.” The wells of green in his eyes darkened. “Did you get my note?”
“Yes.”
He searched my face. “What did—what do you think?”
My hand rose to my chest, where I kept the note next to my heart. “I have not read it yet.”
Guilt rose up when his face paled, and the scar on his cheekbone grew clear. “You really didn’t—not that you’d fib.”
His communications link chimed, and Jackson demanded his presence in the control room.
“Be right there.” He swallowed visibly, then picked up his helmet. “Don’t worry about the note. Just rest, sweetheart.”
And he was gone.
I should have explained that I wanted to read it and why I had not, but I had not even explained my lack to Max or Williams. For unmeasured time I stared at the mural until I could see it in negative when I closed my eyes.
In one small way, however, my enforced rest was beneficial. Each day, I felt stronger and more myself, and though I limped, even my headaches receded. I practiced walking with the cane while marines loaded materials and personnel onto the shuttles, until only a few of us remained.
If they dealt with more intrusions, they did not inform me.
Finally, Max, Zhen, and Lars bundled me onto a hoverbed and escorted me and Elliott’s portable medical tank to the hangar. Zhen walked at my side, the Consortium Eye no longer adorning her shoulder, and her weapon back on its tether. She did not speak as we joined the short line waiting to board the shuttle. The bearded marine—Quincy, I reminded myself again, frustrated that the condition which had stolen my ability to read made remembering so difficult—inspected each item to be loaded. The line crept forward.
Quincy’s sharp “Is that a roach egg?” brought everyone’s attention to the front of the line.
The marine in front of Elliott’s tank snatched back his duffel but grunted an affirmative.
Color leached from Zhen’s cheeks. “Are you insane?”
“What d’you mean trying to bring one of those things?” Lars sputtered. “Don’t you ever watch the vids? There are at least thirty-seven about what goes wrong when you bring monsters and their eggs onto ships.”
“It’s for science,” the other man objected. “If we can study shifts in the genome—”
“Stars!” Lars’s mouth dropped open. “That’s exactly what they say in the vids!”
While I knew little to nothing of entertainment, the tall marine’s point about releasing monstrous insects on the ship was valid. “It is highly improbable Archimedes Genet will allow living samples on Thalassa.”
Lars crossed his thick arms. “And if the Recorder-who-isn’t agrees, you know I’m right.”
“They both are,” Quincy said. “Authorized specimens only. Live specimens, not at all.”
“Fine,” the grouchy marine huffed. “I’ll freeze it and submit paperwork.” Grumbling, he stomped off.
“Some people.” Quincy rolled his eyes and gestured to Lars to move Elliott’s tank for inspection.
Grinning, Lars complied. “’Preciate you backing me up.”
“I might not have seen your vids, but your insistence on leaving behemoth roach eggs behind is well-founded.”
His eyes widened. “Not even the classics?”
Momentarily confused by the idea of classic roach eggs, I belatedly realized he referred to entertainment. “I have not.”
“We need to fix that,” he declared. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’ve done it now,” Zhen muttered, but a smile flitted over her features. “He’ll talk Archimedes into horror vids on fifth- and tenth-days.”
Quincy waved Lars on and began to inspect my hoverbed. By the time he smiled at us and said, “Get her out of here,” I had resolved that even if I could not read, I would be busy on entertainment evenings.
Between Zhen, Lars, and my cane, I made it to my seat and buckled the harness. We three were the sole passengers, but Nate joined Lars in securing equipment and materials the marines had removed from accessible laboratories.
I studied my Nathaniel. Something did not seem right: he was pinched and pale. Sad? Disappointed? I could not tell. He paused by my side and took my hand when I reached for him, but Johansen announced that the shuttle was cleared to depart.
“I’ll see you when we get there,” he said.
Even with Zhen and Lars, I felt alone when he left.
None of us spoke as gravity shifted, pushed, and pulled. I had been correct that with Nate flying, the trip was smoother, though perhaps I was unfair. Perhaps there was no real turbulence. I did not ask. I removed my helmet and stashed my cap and gloves inside it.
Lars collected our helmets and gloves, then tucked them into a bag near the medtank, which burbled against the wall. When his back was to us, I reached up my sleeve and removed the black-and-silver identification bracelet I had worn since Zhen had given it to me days ago. My wrist felt empty without it.
“Zhen?” When she looked over, I offered it to her. “I cannot keep this now. If that Recorder finds out, he will steal it from me, and I will never get it back.”
She simply held out her palm.
Lars returned to his seat, yawning and setting off a chain reaction that provoked a glare from Zhen. He kicked out his legs and put his hands behind his head. “So, Recorder-who-isn’t, did you ever figure out a name? I’m guessing you’ll need one.” He jabbed a thumb toward the front of the craft. “No way he’ll let you go back. Don’t know how he’ll manage it, but I’m not the smart one.”
“Don’t say that, Lars,” Zhen said.
His face twisted, but then he offered us a half smile. “People think I don’t notice, but kinda hard not to. It’s all right.”
Zhen huffed.
“Daisy’s a nice name,” he continued, “although I should maybe tell you that Clarissa and me talked about using it if we ever have a kid. A girl. Might not be a good name for a boy.”
I smiled. “You and Zhen have something in common, then. She also suggested a flower.”
“Solid.” Lars grinned. “But, well, been thinking. Izzy’s all right, and Zeta is, too. Just . . .” His brow creased. “I don’t want to step on your feelings, but I don’t know if you should go with Sweetheart. I know Timmons calls you that, and all, but it might be awkward for other people. I mean, Clarissa wouldn’t like it if I walked around calling you Sweetheart.”
“That had not crossed my mind.” Concern for his feelings kept me from clarifying my antecedent. I had no desire for anyone other than Nate to call me by that name. “I promise I do not take this lightly.”
“Me and Clarissa don’t, either, which’s why we talked about it already.” He sighed. “I wish my parents had thought harder.”
Zhen tilted her head to the right. “What do you mean?”
He rolled his eyes. “Named me Chell.”
“Chell . . . That is unusual,” I said.
“Yep. Spelled it the old-Earth way to make it fancy. K-J-E-L-L.” He shrugged. “One, not a fancy sorta guy. Two, nobody says it right. Kids called me Shell instead. Pummeled a few who made fun of my mum for naming me after dead bodies.”
“I don’t blame you,” Zhen remarked.
“Changed it when I joined up.”
“To?” Zhen asked.
“Lars. Lars Larsen.”
I blinked.
One of his massive shoulders rose and fell. “Yeah, probably shoulda come up with a different one. That’s how I know names’re important.”
Zhen cocked her head. “I like it. It suits you.”
He relaxed, and his grin came back. “Thanks.”
She tugged her pack from under her seat and pulled out her yarn.
For a moment, I did not understand how she could knit while we flew toward an uncertain future, but Nate would take me safely wherever I needed to be, and I had friends.
The sound of knitting needles hushed me to sleep.