part0227

Nova kept her eyes on the cockpit data display scrolling a list of the new arrival’s inventory. Her scanners reported a shipment of foodstuffs not found on Bellac Tau along with barrels of liquor from Feyd and what scanned like bales of fabrics, possibly clothing. There were also about a dozen passengers in one of the cabins of the transport they had waylaid as it emerged from the jumpsite. Her findings were confirmed by the sensors of Lieutenant Rolyn’s Kite on the other side of the ship.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“You know I have to go through all this at customs,” the captain of the trader complained.

“Your destination is Siolet, then?” Nova entered the name of Bellac Tau’s largest city into her system. Besides housing the Union’s main base there, it was also its primary trade hub. “Not the skyranch?”

“You know damn well I’m going to Siolet! Why don’t you go chase rebels instead of bothering traders?”

“Rebel activity has increased in this sub-sector, sir. Your safety is our primary concern. Do you require an escort to the planet?”

“Your rebels aren’t going to chase me for my dresses. I told you I’m going to Siolet. I don’t need you to follow me to make sure of that.”

Her shift partner cut in, unheard by the civilian. “You’re so polite, Whiteside. He’s going to pop a vein for sure.”

She grinned. “Anything on voice?”

“Yeah. Human. Not so much irritated as scared spitless. Spiking all over the place. Can’t see what he’s hiding in there, though. Those could be slaves.”

“Let Ground handle this one.” Nova returned her attention to the trader. “It’s no trouble at all, sir. We’re glad to help you arrive safely.” She watched Lieutenant Sool pull forward and take up position beside the transport ship, ready to escort it to the surface. “We wish you and your crew a very pleasant stay on Bellac Tau.”

Nova closed the com link and sent their findings to the Air Command carrier hovering not far from the jumpsite. Their squadron had patrolled this area for fifty of Bellac’s short days in anticipation of saboteurs that might have dodged patrols on the other side. The Union relay station near the jumpsite, like the skyranch also still under construction, made an attractive target. Once it was guarded by a permanent Air Command detail, the squadrons would leave for their next assignment.

“You’re a wicked woman, Whiteside,” Rolyn said.

Nova signaled him to return to the jumpsite to join the rest of their flight and await the next arrival. “We were told to be courteous, weren’t we? Been a quiet day, sort of. I like that.”

Besides a shipment from Targon of materials for the unfinished relay, they had monitored just five arrivals during their shift. Three had exchanged polite conversation with the tedious but necessary Air Command checkpoint, one had tried to bribe them and was tagged as smuggler but harmless, and this was the only one today to complain about Union presence here. Predictably, it also seemed to be the one with the most to hide.

To traverse these instant subspace connections between far-flung sectors required powerful shields and even more powerful processors. Commonly, massive transport fleets provided berths to lighter vessels for the passage. It made for crowded ships and chaotic inventories. The liners, meant for migration and trade, often smuggled rebels between sectors and presented the greatest challenge to Air Command patrols.

“Black sky cruiser coming in from Bellac,” they heard Lieutenant Sulean’s voice. “Origin Panyan. In a hurry.”

“Panyan, eh?” Heiko Boker cut in. “Not a lot of traffic coming out of that continent. Is this something new?”

“Negative. No air fields in that jungle. Looks like our visitor took a round trip to hide home base. Piece of junk. Strange configuration.”

“Your turn to get the story, Heiko,” Nova said.

Boker and his wingman moved to intercept the new arrival. Nova scanned the ship while he made his respectful inquiries. “Surprised that thing made it this far,” she said over a closed band. “But fully shielded. I can’t even get a good look inside. Want to bet it’s carrying something it doesn’t want us to see? Might want to get your fangs out, Boker.”

The squad moved into a slightly more aggressive formation as the cruiser approached the jumpsite without slowing as was expected in this area.

“Well, he’s not talking to us,” Boker said after repeating his request for identification. “Tower?”

“We’ve notified Siolet,” came the reply from the carrier. “Do not engage. Stand by.”

“I feel they are lacking respect and common good manners,” Boker grumbled but stood down to let the cruiser pass. Without permission from Bellac’s governors none of them had the authority to waylay a traveler unless they were met with hostility. And until the construction was complete and the skyranch and elevator operational, Air Command had no authority to shut down the jumpsite’s guide beacons.

“What did I just see?” Rolyn yelled.

The others, too, took a moment to realize that the large cruiser had disengaged two smaller ships, no bigger than the Kites themselves. The main body veered and headed for the jumpsite’s relay construction, firing as it approached on a collision course. The separated components streaked toward the jumpsite itself.

“It’s going to ram the relay,” the Air Boss transmitted. “We’ve got this. Engage the two bogeys.”

Nova whipped her Kite around and raced after the escaping ships.

“Beacons are responding. Jumpsite is opening,” Boker said. “I’m right behind you, Whiteside.”

Indeed, their systems warned them that someone aboard the fleeing ships had tapped into the beacons that allowed navigators to enter subspace. The site opened, soon large enough to allow them to enter.

“Who the hell’s aboard this thing? What fucking nerve!” Boker yelled. He fired into the lead ship’s shields. The other vessel, not busy with opening this gateway to Magra, returned his fire and kept all of them dodging and weaving in their wake.

“Going in,” Nova said.

“Shit,” Rolyn replied. They were all aware of his aversion to traveling through subspace. It was a common phobia, even among pilots.

“Stay here, Rolyn,” they now heard Captain Dakad from the carrier. “Boker, Sulean, Nieri, Whiteside. Go.”

Nova set her course to follow the lead ship into the breach at ever-increasing velocity, letting them use up their coolants to calculate the passage. Sulean’s guns streaked past her and the second ship spun away, disabled. “Nice shot, we’re going—”

Nova’s remaining words were only in her head. They had passed the threshold into the ‘Big Empty’ and hurtled into the frightening nothing-void of subspace. She saw nothing, or at least there was nothing that her brain seemed to recognize any more. Felt nothing. Heard nothing. She was unable to move and only her thoughts felt alive, reaching a panic state that, for some, could cause lasting damage during a long jump.

This was not a long jump and the breach soon spewed the ships back out into real space to scramble for bearings. Nova’s neural interface grappled for the momentarily disrupted controls and she wasted no time in scanning for their quarry. It was also tumbling through space ahead of them and, as she watched, steadied and changed course.

“Battle cruiser ahead!” Boker called.

“I see it,” Nieri said. “Probably thought we’d take the carrier through instead of the Kites. Damn.”

“We’ve got time,” Nova said. She reached for her console to override the power management system.

“Time to get roasted, maybe,” Sulean answered. “We’re in range. Their range.”

“Whiteside…” Nieri began.

Nova punched every bit of power into her Kite, shortcutting a few routines via her interface to coax more speed from her plane. It raced ahead of the others, pushing the limits of the machine to bring the enemy fighter into her gun sights.

“Should have just said hello when we asked, assbucket!” Boker chortled when her guns took the ship down. “Uh oh.” The cruiser had issued a swarm of Shrills in retaliation, looking like angry insects around a hive.

“Out of here!” Nova shouted and then held her breath while her Kite seemed to make the turn back to the jumpsite far too slowly. The other three Union pilots fired past her to hold back the enemy ships as she raced toward the jumpsite. “Going negative,” she warned as the first to arrive there. She signaled the beacons and began to feed energy forward to create the opening.

“Remind me, Whiteside, you do have your chartjumper creds, right?” Sulean asked, somewhat nervously.

She did not reply, too focused on the mental connection with her plane. Once again, they plunged into the breach, losing all senses until they had crossed the unimaginable distance between Magra and Bellac Tau.

The other ships awaiting them veered out of the way to let the four Kites right themselves.

“Might be some Shrills coming through, team,” Nieri said, unruffled by any of this. “Do we still have a relay?”

“Everyone’s accounted for, Lieutenant,” the Air Boss transmitted. “That delivery didn’t make it. Salvage team is on the way. Return to base, Sulean. You’re reading a little jittery. Status, Nieri.”

“Enemy battle cruiser over there,” the pilot said. “Complement unknown. We took down the bogey. Whiteside’s probably a little short on coolant.”

“Heard. We’ll alert Magra. Resume patrol pattern. We’ll send replacements early.”

The squad hovered around the jumpsite, waiting for any sign that it might be opening to admit the enemy Shrills, perhaps even the battle cruiser, into Bellac space. It didn’t happen. Whoever had awaited the two rebels over there had decided to cut their losses.

“Too scared to come over here with their fancy cruiser and engage properly,” Nieri guessed.

“Just think,” Boker said, sounding meditative. “We were almost home there for about a minute or two. Hard to imagine.”

“Where’s home, Heiko?” Nova asked.

“Got family on Zera. And here I am, back on the other side of Trans-Targon again. Should have dropped by to say hello.”

She chuckled. “It’s another jump from Magra to that sub-sector. And about five days in real space between jumpsites to get there.”

“Well, still closer than this blip on the map.”

“Where’s home for you, Nova?” Rolyn asked.

She looked up from her controls and out into space. “Right now right here, I guess.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well…”

An hour later a trader came through, somewhat startled by the squad’s battle-ready formation, to inform them that there was no one near the jumpsite terminus on the other side.

“Boys and girl, our relief is here,” Boker announced not long after that. “Gather round, another busy, busy day in the service of our glorious Commonwealth Union is about to conclude with a considerable imbibement of glorious grain spirits personally smuggled from Bellac by your role model, Lieutenant Heiko Boker.”

“You are such a drunk, Boker,” Nova said and moved to formation.

“Role model for my pet churry, maybe,” another pilot said.

“Imbibement-whatever you said isn’t even a word,” Rolyn added.

“Don’t grief me, Rolie,” Boker shouted. “We’re on the brink of three days’ worth of downtime. Admire my stupendous splendicity or I’ll go to Siolet without you.”

“Nice work, Rolie!” Nova said. “Three days having your quarters all to yourself.”

“Wait a minute…” Boker said.

“This chase was combat level,” Lieutenant Nieri interrupted. “What’s your count now, Whiteside?”

“This little jaunt’s going to buy me four points, at least,” Nova said. So far, out here, she had not accumulated many of the type of flight hours recognized for her Hunter Class minimum. For the most part, they had cruised around, mindful of Captain Dakad’s complaints about wasting fuel, and harassed the tourists. She needed documented precision flying or combat hours to qualify.

“Five if I’m lucky.” Jumping a Kite through subspace, even just via a charted breach, certainly counted. “We need to start a brawl like this every day.”

“Depends on Dakad’s mood,” Boker supplied. He drawled his words as if that somehow made him sound more like a Centauri. “If he says: ‘That was damn bold, Whiteside, good job,’ she’s got the point. If he starts yelling about chasing bogeys toward an enemy battle cruiser stuffed with Shrills she can forget about it.”

The last of the Kites, except for Lieutenant Sool currently on his way to the surface with the disgruntled would-be smuggler, had joined formation and they now swooped past their arriving replacements to head back to the carrier.

Nova was not particularly eager for time off. She did not care to join the others in whatever carousing they had in mind for their time in the capital. There was nothing for her at the base and remaining aboard the carrier just meant that someone would surely find work for her to do. She listened silently to her squadron mates’ artless banter while they slipped their Kites into the carrier’s narrow chutes to be turned over to the hangar crew.

The daily debrief was of course focused on the mysterious and, as usual, random rebel attack on the relay. Reports about the battle cruiser in the Magran sub-sector had not yet arrived. Nova pulled her head between her shoulders when her Kite’s recordings of the last part of the chase were displayed. Captain Dakad pinned Boker with a violet glower when he said, “Good job, Whiteside.” Rolyn gave her a congratulatory punch on the shoulder.

Finally, Dakad held up a hand when the pilots started to shift in their seats, expecting dismissal. “One more thing,” he said. “We’re a go for rotation. We’ll transfer to the skyranch for a couple of sets so you can get familiar with the place. Have your quarters cleared before downtime – we’ll be billeted on the orbiter.” He looked meaningfully at some of his men. “I want those cabins left spotless. I want you ready to clear out the moment we dock. What you do then with your downtime is up to you. You can take the shuttle to Siolet or stay on the skyranch.”

“Yesss,” Nova whispered happily. Although the orbiter was still very much under construction, she had been eager for a chance to look around. No doubt some of the others were also rethinking their plans. Her memories of a few years spent on a skyranch were happy ones. Routines and rules were less stringent than those on the bases where she had lived and she had found friends among the other children. Somehow there had always been something to do between the lessons and chores designed to keep them all out of trouble.

She also looked forward to joining up with Caga squad, part of her wing and already stationed at the skyranch. Unlike her own, that squadron included female pilots and Nova anticipated gentler company, perhaps even an interesting roommate.

But something else was foremost on her mind. Had Djari made it up to the ranch? During these past few weeks of duty aboard the carrier, she had heard nothing more about him or any of the others that had survived the Shon Gat siege. Memories of that one sweet moment they had shared kept returning to her but when she recalled his face she saw only the reproachful look he had given her before he disappeared.

She had been tempted to make inquiries or to pull up personnel files but then decided against it. Looking up a fellow captive of the Shon Gat siege might just catch the attention of her counselors who still monitored her post-trauma state.

Dakad tugged on his nose, something he did when putting his words together. “Whiteside. Stay a moment. The rest of you are dismissed.”

The others filed out, not without throwing a few curious glances in Nova’s direction. Boker rolled his eyes and gave her a smile meant to encourage. Dakad rarely dealt with his pilots individually. It was often a sign of trouble.

The captain tipped his head toward the exit and waited for her to get up and join him. Puzzled, she walked with him around the clearance of the landing chutes and then into the interior corridor of the carrier. “Whiteside, I want to give you some notice about the rotation to the skyranch,” he said finally.

“We’ve had noise about rebel movements and there was some evidence found to assume sabotage attempts on the station.”

“I’m aware, sir.”

“General Ausan decided to provide Skyranch Twelve with additional security units. In fact, she’s rotating the current skyranch and elevator security personnel to the base and vice versa to give everyone a change of scenery.”

Nova winced. “Major Trakkas is coming up here?”

“No. He’s going to command the garrison at the elevator base. The skyranch is commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Thedris until we turn it over, so we’ll be working under him. We’ll make the announcement tomorrow.”

“I don’t suppose Major Trakkas is very happy about that.” Nova peered up at him, suddenly realizing why he was telling her this now. “Ausan transferred the ground units up, too, didn’t she? Beryl and his thugs.”

“Yes. She doesn’t want to use pilots where ground pounders will do. They’re providing security around the loading docks up there. Patrolling the construction sites. They’ve been there a while and I wanted to give you some warning. I don’t have to tell you…” he trailed off, waiting for her to fill in missing words.

Nova stopped walking. “To keep my door closed? To make no trouble? Not hit him, maybe?”

“No. I won’t do that. I am giving you the option to transfer to Zenta squad flying out of Siolet if you prefer. No one will think less of you for that, Lieutenant.”

“I’m not running from him,” she said at once.

“Think about it.”

They continued to walk toward the officers’ quarters. His offer, made in private, seemed sincere. It would mean less tension among his pilots if she transferred and it would certainly be a relief for her. Perhaps one of her well-meaning counselors had even suggested it. Still, hiding from Beryl was utterly unacceptable to her. It felt like running away.

“No,” she said. “I will stay with my squad.” She hesitated, needing to know. His ire over her decision would tip the scales here. Did he really think of her as so fragile? Perhaps punching Beryl had not been the best way to display self-control and fortitude under pressure. “What is your preference, sir?”

He did not look at her. “You’re a fine pilot, Whiteside. You have the grit. The men respect you and that’s where it counts. You will make Hunter Class and that looks good on me, too.” He allowed himself a faint smile. “I see no reason for you to transfer.”

Nova kept her expression carefully neutral. “Thank you, sir.”

“I also think you can work out your issues with him here. Deal with it. You don’t have to interact. I can try to get his gang scattered a bit. But anything more would require explanations to our new CO and perhaps even the general. And that will raise questions about the reporting by both you and Major Trakkas.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Nova had heard the note of disapproval in his comment about the reports. She wanted to ask him, but then decided not to press him about it. “Thank you for giving me the option.”

He gave a curt nod and opened the door to his quarters. “Whiteside,” he called her back when she continued along the hall. She turned. “I’m pleased by your decision. I think maybe I was wrong about you.”

“Now this is what this entire place is all about.” A Centauri officer waited for her small gaggle of sightseers to gather on the catwalk overlooking the elevator hub. Skyranch Twelve was not designed to attract much of a tourist crowd, unlike the ones above the ice-bound Feron where few inhabitants had ever seen food grow above ground or Feyd where a thick atmosphere made launching into space from an orbiting platform far more affordable.

The two orbiters that would serve Bellac were designed purely for the manufacture of food and electricity and down here, on the lowest level where the tether from the ground met the station, things were pretty much utilitarian. Nova had expected a modern passenger handling area, perhaps kiosks where one could get more information about the tether’s nanotube construction, or a spot to take some video of the planet hanging over their heads.

Instead, the area they were now shown looked like any loading dock she had ever seen on any base station or transport ship, albeit much larger. Metal floors and walls, cold metal railings, hoists, trolleys, storage containers and control stations. Workers bustled in the clear space around the tether to prepare for a new arrival from the ground. Nova’s group leaned over the railing to watch, restricted from entering the steady, well-ordered routines on the floor.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Boker propped his elbows on the metal bar. After Lieutenant Rolyn had decided to abandon him in favor of the skyranch, Boker had given up his plans for Siolet’s alehouses. Besides, the orbiter had two very nicely stocked lounges. His eyes traveled upward along the cable. “Look how thin that tether is. You don’t notice that down on the ground.”

Nova nodded. Their temporary guide chatted about tensile strength, payloads and velocity while actually holding a cross section of the nanotube belt in her hands. On the ground, near Shon Gat, the bottom part of the elevator was protected by graphene cages as well as shielding. As support for a system of sensors, com gear and defensive measures, its width seemed far more reassuring than this ribbon. Maybe the extra girth near the ground was intended to keep passengers from fleeing in terror. “I think I might be too scared to go for a ride down this thing,” she said. “The skyranches I’ve been to weren’t tethered.”

“Imagine sitting in a box tied to this for three days.”

Nova turned to the guide who had stopped to take a breath. “Will this be used for passengers?”

“Not at this time. It just takes too long. Once we’re fully staffed, the station will operate a commuter shuttle for round trips every twenty days. We’ll have emergency vehicles, of course, and a private transport company is going to offer trips to the surface if you can’t wait for the shuttle. So far we have just cargo pods traveling along the tether. Eventually we may bring in a passenger car for those who want the experience of traveling through space that way. It’s not a priority for Bellac.”

A slight vibration ran through the metal plates on which they stood and then a massive climber descended from the ceiling. Those among the pilots who had not seen a climber at the Shon Gat base gasped in awe at the sheer size of it, looking like a small transport ship sliding down along the tether. Nova had expected rollers and cables or perhaps magnets but the assembly attaching the climber to the elevator reminded her of one of the frustrating engineering puzzles at the academy. The cargo bins, once released by the protective shielding, slid effortlessly onto tracks leading into the adjacent holding area.

“Not a box, then,” Boker said. “Might actually be fun.”

“I prefer to be in charge of steering whatever is hauling me through space,” Nova replied.

“The elevator is of course powered by solar energy,” their guide gestured downward although from here they were unable to see the transparent dome on the other end of the station, surrounded by vast arrays of solar panels and communication systems. “But we also use the regenerative braking power of the downward crawler to power the upward movement.” She smiled. “Of course, up and down is a matter of opinion. Halfway there, gravity plays a big part no matter which way you go. And since the station’s gravity spinners are now below us, the planet is actually above our heads. We are, from Bellac’s point of view, upside down.”

Nova watched the dock hands unload the container. “What’s all that?”

“Supplies for the station, water, gasses. Much of that will of course be manufactured right up here eventually but we still have a lot to do before the farm rings are producing. We also accept shipments of export goods. Beyond those doors are air locks able to accommodate five transports at a time. The freighter leaving from there is taking those barrels of anai oil into Trans-Targon. It’s worth a lot there. So by acting as a shipping port, the station is already starting to pay for itself because those shippers don’t need to land in the atmosphere. Currently, we see one of these transports once every few rotations, but eventually the traffic will be constant.”

“That’s a lot of anai oil,” Boker said. He bent far over the railing to look over the rows of shipping containers waiting to be handled. Nova resisted an impulse to grab the back of his jacket to keep him from going over.

“Bellac also exports frozen seafood that your people eat in huge amounts, Lieutenant. Skyranch Thirteen will be at sea and include a sub-surface processing plant. By using the ranches for most of Bellac’s import and export activities, we should be able to curtail the smuggling of mince and exotics.”

“Drugs and slaves,” Boker translated out of the side of his mouth. Nova boxed him lightly in the ribs.

Their guide had heard him. “Unfortunately that is true, Lieutenant. The demand for mince outside Bellac is increasing. Fortunately, so far no one has tried to smuggle slaves using the elevator. We have, however, confiscated animals in stasis destined for the pet trade, a horrible practice and of course a violation of other planets’ ecosystem management policies.”

“Huge demand for churries on Targon,” Boker said wisely. Some of the others snickered.

“What about security here on the platform?” Nova asked.

The officer pointed around the domed hall, probably glad for the change of subject. “This area is normally restricted to all but transport personnel. We’ve got video surveillance, armed guards on all levels, and this access area to the tether can be closed off from the station in a matter of seconds. Air Command presence here will depend on current threat levels. The tether itself is shielded in ways that I can’t tell even you, Lieutenant, and of course the cargo bins are shielded individually against radiation and temperature fluctuations on the way to and from the planet.”

“She probably doesn’t know, either,” Boker mumbled behind his hand as they dutifully trotted after their host and out of the shipping area.

“Expect some gravity shifts,” she advised as walked along a curving passage. “We are going to walk around the gravity generators on our way to the upper levels. If you use the lifts this will hardly be noticeable. They move horizontally as well as vertically. Of course, you won’t have much need to come down this way.”

They soon reached a broad observation level that allowed a view of the exterior of the orbiter as well as an overlook into the hollow interior space. They were able to step out onto the bowed wall and, as pilots and inured to vertigo, all of them took that opportunity to look down into a central recreational area and then up to see the massive skylight. The station core was flooded with sunlight and its floor and terraces showed the beginnings of gardens and green space. Five levels of residential and work areas overlooked this space, alleviating the claustrophobia that struck so easily on base stations and long-distance transports. Two levels were still open as work crews completed the construction.

“As you will have seen during your approach here, the station is spindle-shaped with the gravity generator at the center which is now slightly below us.” She gestured through the window. “The residential and administrative wings are operated at point eight of Bellac’s gravity and dampened toward the station terminals.” She turned to Boker. “The pointy ends.”

Nova poked him again before he could retort with some wisecrack.

“As you noticed, gravity down at the elevator hub is much lighter, making work there more efficient and allowing for far larger containers. The same is true for the upper end of the station, where the solar collectors are almost weightless. Below that, of course are the two combat plane levels. A much grander landing bay is centrally located between the grow rings for the most spectacular view of the station upon approach. All civilians and off-duty personnel use those locks.”

Nova left the interior wall to walk across the broad, empty concourse to look out over the exterior of the station. The central portion of the orbiter was surrounded by multi-level, mostly transparent rings where they would grow food and recycle water and gasses. Two of the rings were in place, a third was nearly complete. She saw people moving through them, partially afloat in the curving tubes. Against the black backdrop of space it looked as surreal as she remembered from past visits to places like these.

Some of the others also strolled over to where she stood with her hands pressed against the transparent wall.

“We maintain minimal gravity out there, basically just what the station pulls,” the guide said. “The shells can be adjusted for radiation and light. The arms holding the rings are lined with conveyors that transport the bins of…”

Nova was no longer listening. “I’ll see you later, Heiko,” she whispered to Boker.

“Eh? Where are you going? I thought you wanted to see the place.”

“Got something to do. They won’t let us into the construction sites, anyway. Or the command center.” She stepped away from the group and hurried upward along the curving concourse and then took a lift to the next level. The design of this station included improvements over those built before it but she knew her way around well enough. The exit she sought was a quarter of the way around the station from where she had left the tour.

“Evening,” she greeted a technician standing near a workstation.

The Centauri looked up briefly and then back again when he realized that she was uniformed. “It’s morning over there,” he pointed through the transparent frontage at the planet. “Though my stomach says it’s supper time. I’ll never get used to it.”

She smiled. “Me neither.”

“Kind of out of your playpen, aren’t you?” he said. “Don’t often get pilots coming around up here.”

“Grew up on a skyranch.” She shrugged. “Lots of memories. And there’s someone here I know. Maybe you can help me find him.”

“Sure. Got a name?” The tech tapped on his screen to pull up a duty roster.

“Djari,” she said and held her breath while he consulted his system. “Nathon Djari.”

“Oh, I know that one. Human but from Bellac. You’ll find him in the upper ring.” He noticed her hesitation and gestured toward a service access ladder nearby. “Go on. Not restricted.”

She followed his direction and climbed up into the transparent tunnel reaching out toward the farm rings. Humid air met her and she soon wished that she had left her jacket behind. Gradually, the pull of the station’s gravity released her and she bounced lightly as she moved. Open service carts lined the wall to transport produce and supplies and probably some of the more adventurous staff to the ring. A transparent door swished aside when she approached and she was greeted by another draft of hot and humid air.

Some workers, more sensibly dressed than she was, looked up when she entered the ring but returned to their tasks when they saw her uniform. She declined an offer for a guided tour and was left to explore the space on her own.

So far, the growing platforms were empty except for a few racks of experiments. To Nova’s untrained eye, the seedlings looked perky enough to eat, whatever they were. The transparent shell of the ring was fogged in places, hinting that some balancing and fine-tuning was still to be done here.

She bounced along the central pathway, respectfully dodging workers and their carts, prepared to pace the entire circumference of the ring to find Djari. Aisle upon aisle of trays marched off into the distance and she paused to scan each one. He would stand out among the garnet-skinned Bellacs working up here.

She had come about halfway, starting to get bored with this, when she finally spotted him near the end of one of the aisles. He stood turned away from her, busy with a tangle of tubes and gages. He wore the loose-fitting white coveralls made for this climate but she recognized his powerful build and the shock of sun-bleached hair even from this distance. It came as a bit of a surprise to her to feel a surge of excitement upon seeing him again.

“Djari!” she called out and jogged down the aisle.

He turned and a broad smile spread over his face when he saw her. The one that could light up the dark and that had kept her from utterly despairing during their brief captivity in Shon Gat. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished and when she reached him he turned his face away from her.

Nova faltered. “Djari? No hug for your favorite officer?”

He glanced at her only briefly. “I… I hadn’t expected to see you up here. They said you were at the gate now.”

She frowned. “Yes, but we rotate often. What’s wrong? Aren’t you glad to see me?” She peered at him more closely. He did not resist when she reached out to turn his face toward her. “Gods, Djari,” she breathed.

He faced her for a moment before turning away again. “Didn’t turn out so pretty, did it?”

“Don’t hide from me,” she said. The laser blasts that had strafed his cheek and jaw had left a brutal wound on his face that was only now healing. “Why didn’t you have that breezed,” she said. “That’s going to leave a scar.” She looked down to see that his arm, below the rolled-up sleeve, was also a mass of twisted flesh.

“Too late now.” He shrugged. “I don’t need a pretty face up here.”

“Can’t you look at me when we’re talking?”

“Can you?” He turned and she had to bite back a startled gasp. It wasn’t the wound that troubled her; she had grown up among battle-scarred veterans and had seen worse than this. It was the look on his face that suddenly seemed so foreign. Something had erased the mild, open expression she had come to like and replaced it with anger and distrust.

“It’s not so bad,” she stammered, wondering if she sounded as lame to him as she did to herself. “Can they do anything for that?”

He shook his head. “No. After… after I left you at Shon Gat with your people I got caught up by a rebel group. They kept me for days, up in the hills. I don’t know why. I was sick. And in pain. I finally got away and made my way back down and to the garrison.” He bent to tuck his tools into a box by his feet. “By that time it was too late.”

“We have an amazing exobiology clinic on Targon. There’s a whole department specializing in Human—”

“Just leave it alone, Nova! I’m a civilian. How do you think I can get to Targon? Like you said, it’s not so bad. It doesn’t matter.”

“Seems to matter to you or you’d look at me,” she snapped back and regretted that immediately. “I’m sorry,” she said more softly. “I’m so sorry about the whole thing. I wish they hadn’t started to shoot. I wish you had stayed.”

“I’d be dead now. Like the other civilians they murdered.”

“They were… confused. It seemed like you were all armed.”

His eyes narrowed. “There was no need for that and you know it, Lieutenant. That’s what your people do if you give them the chance. And if you think that this was just some rare misfortune, you’ve been up in your plane for too long.”

She reached out to touch him but he pulled away. “Please, Djari. I don’t know what to say. How to make this right.”

“You can’t fix the world, Nova. This is what you’ve chosen. So live with it. You saw them down there! Maimed civilians, sick children, bodies in the streets. That’s your war. Not Bellac’s. Yours. You can’t make it right any more than I can.” He threw his hands up in a helpless gesture. “Why do you make excuses for this? Civilians get in the way. Your own people tried to break you. And you don’t think there’s something wrong with that?”

She frowned. “The Commonwealth was never meant to be a military force. It’s about trade. Gods, Djari, if it weren’t for groups like the Shri-Lan we’d need no military at all. We’re spread out with few resources over just too much space. It can’t possibly be perfect, no matter how hard we try.” She looked around the endless rows of racks as if to find answers among the drip trays. “If… things happen so far out here, it’s because of people, not some organization. People who don’t care about rules. People who are in this for their own profit. And that includes Union members.”

“More excuses,” he grumbled, unconvinced. “I’ve seen enough. Neither of us belongs here.”

“And yet, here you are,” she said, gesturing at the farm flats with a sweep of her arm. “Working for the Union.”

He said nothing for a moment. His eyes shifted to the orbiter seen through the transparent dome of the grow ring. “I’m working for Bellac,” he said finally. He turned away. “You’re working for Air Command.”

She grasped his arm. “Don’t do this, Djari,” she pleaded, hurt by his dismissal of her and worried by the pain that obscured the gentle, nurturing man she had met in Shon Gat. “Please.”

He turned back. For a moment she thought he would say something to show her that he was still in there somewhere. He searched her face and raised a hand as if to touch her. Her breath caught when the angry tension shifted to something softer, perhaps something she recognized. Instead he snatched that hand away and covered it with the other as if to hide the scars on it. “Leave me alone,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper. “Please just go away.”