to wear a covering that didn’t protect. For a moment I thought he was brash enough to uncover more, and from the grin on Dori’s face there would’ve been an interested audience. But I didn’t look at him. It was very distasteful—he’s so blatant about his maleness. I intend not to waste any more of my time thinking about it, or him.
I’m feeling the dislocation in my circadian rhythm that occurs because the ship’s day, reckoned by Earth Standard, is a different length from the planet’s day. This is another reason why it’ll be better for me to stay down on the surface, giving my system a chance to adapt to the longer Omareemeean day.
Something irritates me about Marit. His muscles stand out like cords when he moves his arms. His back and shoulders are sprinkled with freckles, the color of wet sand. The less I have to deal with him the better I’ll like it.
That’s all I can report tonight, CenCom.
Gia out.
CHAPTER SIX
Lil glanced at the disorder in exasperation. The bridge of the Ann Bonny was an informal place, crowded with instrument panels, large and small display screens and simboards, gauges, warning systems, monitoring devices, all the paraphernalia that allowed humans to fly through the unbreathable void. And there was more, for it was a microcosm of the ship itself, the nesting instinct of a magpie carried into space, Lil thought: coffee beakers, odds and ends of planetary artifacts from a dozen worlds that somebody had fancied as souvenirs, Sky Selese’s collection of pipes and bags of exotic tobaccos, even a discarded holocube of somebody’s lover left forever on Earth. And over it all, the watchful green eye of HANA, the Hybrid-Analogic biocomputer, series 451K. The Ann Bonny might be old, Lil thought with affectionate pride, but only the science ships had better computers.
As a young woman she’d served aboard a science ship on exploratory surveys, all clean lines and sterile surfaces. But she’d taken time out to stay on earth and have Vivi.
She’d even chosen to do it the hard way, bearing the child herself. She’d kept Vivi with her in Geneva for almost twelve years while she taught at the Academy. It was an unusually long time for a child and parent to stay together. Gia must be about Vivi’s age—maybe that was why she was troubled by the girl.
The CompSpec had not yet acknowledged Lil’s presence. Lil flicked invisible dust and pipe ashes from the command chair and sat down, setting her cane beside her. She didn’t regret those years, yet when they were over and Vivi went away to school, Lil learned the price she’d paid. Seniority gone, training outdated, her skills too rusty for the newer science ships, she had had to take a job with the Commerce Fleet.
Sky glanced up to reach an overhead display and noticed Lil.
“There was no choice involved, Lil,” Sky said without preliminary. “That’s the fact that has me by the throat and won’t let go.”
Lil shrugged noncommittally. “We all make the best decisions we can under the circumstances.”
“Nteko and I had been together since primary school in Nairobi. That’s a long time.”
“Sky.” There were other things more troubling than Sky’s lost lover. She moved to the first one. “I need an update on that wreck. Has HANA dated it? Any word from CenCom, where they were from?”
“Nothing from CenCom. But postulating its most likely original vector, and calculating from its slowly decaying orbit, it probably happened a century ago, Earth Standard, give or take a year.”
“Damn, but there’s something odd here.” She’d been turning the pieces of the puzzle over and over in her mind since their encounter with the alien wreck. Could the aliens have been traders, like themselves? The Sagittans were hard on ships that didn’t come up with acceptable trade agreements, but she’d never heard they destroyed them. Perhaps the rumors about marauding pirates were true, after all.
Sky had already dismissed the problem from her attention. “Nteko was part of myself. We shared everything.”
She’d plaited her hair in dozens of tiny black braids, Lil noticed, a style Nteko used to wear.
“I loved Nteko.” Sky’s thin face was a carving in topaz in the cabin’s muted evening-cycle light. “Yet when it came to the decision, I left him. I couldn’t even wait the few weeks it would take for his leg to heal.”
Obviously, she was going to have to humor the CompSpec first. Lil decided on the direct approach. “Why didn’t you wait? I would’ve missed you, but I would’ve found another computer specialist easily enough, even if she wasn’t as good. I managed to replace Nteko, didn’t I?”
“I knew he’d never fly again. I saw it in the MedTechs’ eyes when they first examined the break. It wasn’t a clean one, and Nteko had delayed getting help for it until after the infection set in. They’d never give him clearance for space. And I couldn’t face the thought of staying on Earth, of never going out among the stars again. Not even for Nteko. So I abandoned him. What kind of monster does that make me?”
“No monster. Space does strange things to us all.”
“I explained it to myself by blaming him. He shouldn’t have taken the risk that caused the accident. Did I have to give up my career because he’d been stupid?”
“Let it go now,” Lil advised. “It serves no purpose to torture yourself. What’s done is done.”
“But, Lil—would I have left him so easily if he’d been a woman?”
“Look, Sky, I know you’re feeling bad about this, but could we get to work? I’ve got some questions for HANA.”
Sky stiffened. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “You have command access, Captain.”
“Thanks.” There was nothing she could do about the wreck right now, but there were other, more immediate problems.
The small screen directly in front of the command chair remained a pearly blank.
“Good evening, Captain Cheng,” HANA said.
“Good evening, HANA.”
“How’s your hip?”
“Healing, thank you.”
“Is everything going well?”
HANA knew every last detail of Lil’s deteriorating bones and how the mission was progressing. In fact, Lil sometimes wondered if humans were needed at all. The computer could manage the whole thing by itself, and more efficiently. But CenCom was sensitive to the fragile human ego. A basic household Arti was often bossy and officious, but biocomputers of HANA’s complexity were programmed to maintain a low profile in the decision-making process. And in addition, she thought, they displayed a modicum of human warmth.
“As well as you could expect for such a dumb cargo,” she said.
“I’m sure the nature of the cargo won’t affect the size of remuneration the crew receives, Captain.”
“Stow it, HANA. I don’t need scolding. You know as well as we do, beads are an odd commodity for CenCom to want to trade in. They’re not even pretty. If CenCom wants to start a fad in junk jewelry, I saw some on Xyrus 9 that were far better.”
“Captain,
