PERSONAL RECORD: DESIGNATION ZETA4542910-9545E
CTS THALASSA, LUNAR ONE
478.3.1.03 – 478.3.1.04
Ships faded into small shapes outlined by seemingly random pulsing lights as they passed into New Triton’s penumbra. The careful beauty of their movement reminded me of music: flashes trilled like violins, and the smooth darkness was the round, resonant sound of cellos. Floodlights swept the station, illuminating its own pale surfaces and the ships before moving on. I pressed my forehead against the lounge’s single viewport and took long, quiet breaths, trying to center myself each second.
When Nate’s footsteps sounded in the hall, though, all attempts at ordered thought were swallowed by a deep ache. I watched the ships’ lights until he spoke.
“Those floodlights mess with my night vision.” Nate settled in the chair, long legs outstretched, hands behind his head. “Can’t be night vision in space, though, can it? No day or night, really. Space vision? Sounds stupid.”
I sighed. “Perhaps disorientation is the point, although I do not believe space vision would be the correct term.”
The right corner of his lips edged upwards. I struggled to smile back and failed.
“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”
I attempted to keep weariness from my voice. “So many things. Today . . .”
“I heard about that. I should have been there.”
“It is as well that you were not,” I said. “Though it was good that Lars was. It took Lars, Quincy, Jackson, and Eric to wrestle Ross back.”
“Ross was wrong, you know. What you did to save Yrsa is nothing like what he did.”
“True, and not.” When he protested, I shook my head. “You are correct, but the end result . . . I suspect that I shall hear that man’s death for the rest of my life, however long that is.”
“Sweetheart—”
“But even if I do, Nathaniel, I must remember how valuable each life is.”
“Stars.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.” I covered my eyes and leaned back against the wall. “Williams ought not return. Since she is not a Recorder, she will not face the Halls, but after Edwards, I am concerned that the Elders will judge her harshly because of my actions. Her association with me could condemn her.”
“Want in on a secret?”
“What is one more?”
He waited until I lowered my hand. Given the topic of conversation, his broad grin seemed out of place. “You know how the marines pooled funds to save Daniel? He says he doesn’t need it, so J used her family connections and checked into Williams’s gifting debt. We combined resources and paid it off, with room left over. J has the temp ID, and we’ll shuttle her down to Albany City tomorrow morning. After the Hall of Records offices open up, she can pick up her bracelet, and Williams will officially be Elinor Anne Williams, citizen.”
Relief, happiness, joy, or whatever the emotion was, washed over me. Without even being aware of moving, I was in Nate’s arms, and his chuckle rumbled against my cheek.
“I am so very glad! Does she know?”
“Well, not yet.”
“Nate! You should tell her immediately! You must,” I insisted. “Give her that peace of mind, if she is still awake.”
“She was a few minutes ago. Adrienne Smith was complaining about a sore throat. Thought her allergies were the virus.” He grinned. “Everyone wanted to be there, but maybe you’re right.”
“It is what I would wish, in her stead.” A sliver of jealousy ran through the joy, but the lifted worry far surpassed it. “Oh! She will be able to seek—”
His communications link chimed.
“Well, Tim,” Jordan said. “You know I love my friends when I talk to Father twice in a ten-day, but I did it. Did you find her?”
His expression sobered. “She’s right here. What’s the news?”
“Jordan, what is wrong?” I asked.
“Break out your nicest clothes, because you’re meeting the deputy prime minister tomorrow.”
“I do not have nice clothes,” I began before the last half of her statement caught up with me. “Jordan, I do not know the deputy prime minister.”
She laughed. “That’s why I said you’re meeting her.” A yawn interrupted the explanation. “I’m exhausted. Stars, what a couple of quarters. I’m turning in. You probably should as well, because it wouldn’t do to miss a meeting that can set you free.”
She signed off.
“Nate,” I asked slowly, “what does she mean by free?”
His dimple peeked out at me. “Free. Told you we were working on it. J’s connections, my persuasive skills, and you.” He caught me up and spun me around once.
“I have done—”
“More than you give yourself credit for. Like I said yesterday, you pretty much saved the system. They owe you.”
I nestled against Nate’s chest and rested my head on his shoulder. Hope, true and sure, shot through my fears.
“She has a point.” He kissed my forehead. “You should get some sleep.”
“But Williams?”
“I’ll tell her. I promise.”
I snuggled closer. “Nathaniel, my heart, do you truly believe it is possible, that there is a chance I can . . . I could be free?”
“You have a shipful of people ready to testify on your behalf.” Nate bent down and all too briefly touched his lips to mine. “If it goes like we all hope, tomorrow Elinor Williams won’t be the only new citizen.”
Nate told Elinor that evening, after all, and though I smiled so broadly that my cheeks hurt, Elinor cried. Archimedes authorized a late shuttle so she could leave for Albany City on the last flight of the day and be at the Hall of Records as soon as it opened.
I spent my last night on Thalassa alone. Excitement over freedom and the potential of a name was not conducive to good rest. I woke at least seven times before my alarm sounded. When it did chime, I was too tired to hear it, and if Zhen and Alec had not brought me my breakfast as they usually did, I would have missed it altogether.
I changed into my greys, and when I exited the water closet, Zhen was fastening a sheath to her right leg, despite Alec’s low assertion that security would stop her.
She scowled at him, then at me. “Why on any known planet are you wearing those ugly things?”
“I will not presume freedom before it is granted.”
Alec huffed, then finished the dregs of his coffee.
She took a package from a bag next to her chair and handed it to me. “Open this anyway.”
A narrow scalene triangle of finely knitted, variegated blue lace slid through my hands like water. “This is beautiful.”
“She started it the day after you left Thalassa the first time.” Alec beamed, as if the craftmanship itself had summoned me from Agamemnon.
“Your favorite datapad is blue.” Her cheeks pinked, then she said roughly, “This doesn’t mean I like you.”
“Babe!” Alec expostulated.
I studied Zhen and carefully considered my response. “Accepting this does not mean I like you, either.”
Alec gaped, but Zhen threw back her head and laughed. She draped the gift over my shoulders and surveyed me, then adjusted it around my neck.
“Where’s your commlink?”
“I am not bringing it, for the same reason I am wearing my greys. I do not wish to alienate any Elder who might be present, should the Eldest send a tribunal.” She huffed, but I turned to Alec. “Alexander Spanos?”
He raised one thick brow. “Thought we settled that you’re calling me Alec.”
“We have, but I find that I must ask you something difficult.”
“Sounds serious.” He regarded me steadily. “What is it?”
“When you were a child, you and your sister were caught in an explosion.”
“Ah.” He settled back in his chair.
The single utterance neither reassured me nor informed me of his meaning. “Have you indeed forgiven us?”
His forehead knotted. “You?”
“The Consortium.”
Again, he said, “Ah.”
“When we first ventured into Pallas Station, you said people like me had caused your family harm. We had neglected to speak out and act, and as a result, your sister died in a medical tank and your father—I have not found him yet. You know now of my . . . deficit?”
“It doesn’t change who you are,” Zhen said.
Alec nodded. “Exactly.”
“Be that as it may,” I said, “before I was taken from Thalassa, I reviewed the incident. Indeed, proof that the Recorders documenting the attack had failed to protect citizens provided the impetus for my failed attempt to flee the Consortium. After I viewed those files, I found courage and reason to ask Nate and Jordan to help me escape.”
His steady, brown eyes remained on my face.
“On Pallas, before you and Nate left for Thalassa, you offered me your sister’s name.”
“I did. I still do.”
“Why?” The question’s insufficiency prompted me to press on. “Why would you offer such a valuable gift to a member of the organization responsible for your sister’s death and your father’s disappearance? After your family’s sundering and years spent in a struggle for basic necessities? After your mother’s death?”
“Been thinking about that for the past quarter. The fact of the matter is that the Consortium isn’t the sole guilty party here. They didn’t set the explosives.” He leaned on his elbows. “People like Skip did.”
“But as a member of the Consortium—”
“When I told you that you were different, I meant it. When they took you and left that other Recorder on Thalassa, I was angry. Still am, a little, to be honest.”
“So am I,” Zhen put in.
He shoved his hand through his long hair. “I didn’t see how Recorders are people until I met you. You and James and Daniel. Then, the marines mourned over Parker. All that made me think. You three can’t be the only ones to defy the system. Facing the fact that I’d been wrong, focusing on the Consortium so I didn’t have to admit my father played a part in his disappearance . . . that was hard.”
“It would be,” I said softly. “What was your sister like?”
“Arianna . . . Aria was the best. Loyal, funny, kind.” His gaze drifted. “She wanted to see the sky.”
“I, too, wanted to see the sky.”
“I know,” he said. “She was a lot younger than me, but Aria was my best friend. I loved her. Stars. It still feels wrong to say that in past tense, even now.”
“Love is always present tense,” Zhen murmured.
Was it? I wanted it to be true, yet the wrongness of what had happened chewed at any peace. “She should have lived.”
“Yeah. But so should you.” He stood. “Shall we?”
He offered me his left arm, and Zhen picked up my cane from the corner.
“Just in case,” she said.