Chapter 10
Progeny Risk
“Well, that is shady as fuck, Fia,” Carissa huffed across the table in the mess hall.
Fia twiddled with the mug in her hands as she mulled the response over.
Davik was busy preparing dinner for the three of them, a cozy routine they had fallen into between shift changes.
It was really more of a midnight snack for Davik and breakfast for Carissa, but they called it supper, nevertheless.
“I did not think people operating outside of the law would speak plainly on an unsecured message board,” Fia replied, swirling the warm drink in her mug.
“I would love to tell you it sounds legit. But this sounds like some teenager role-playing as a secret agent,” Carissa said with a laugh, tapping the datapad in her hand. “Why didn’t you just talk like a normal person?”
Fia groaned and pressed her face into the table, covering her head with her arms so her slightly strained reply was muffled. “I do not know. I was never good at espionage.”
“Huh. So what exactly did you do before you were an ice cube?”
“Not espionage,” Fia grumbled, her face still hidden beneath her arms.
Carissa’s eyes narrowed at the deflection. “Alright. I’m not unpacking that right now. Anyway, this station isn’t a far leap outside our route. We’ll pass through it in a week or so.”
Davik set down a trio of bowls, and Fia peeled her face off the table as soon as the herbaceous scent hit her. She wasted no time tucking into the noodles as Carissa showed Davik the station data sheet they were reviewing.
“I don’t know much about this place, but—” Davik paused, using his pinky to awkwardly scroll the readout while juggling a pair of chopsticks.
“It’s in a low-sec region. Local enforcement only.
No feds. So, if you’re looking for others flying under the radar, seems at least a good place to make contacts at.
Ooh! And I can get some fuel cells on the cheap! ”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Carissa tacked on, taking a hearty sip from the bowl. “Worth a shot. If it’s a dead end, we’ll just have a rest day.”
“You’d let us have a day off?!” Davik asked incredulously.
“A half-day.”
“This is going to be difficult without my equipment,” Fia mumbled, re-reading the messages.
It was her fault for admitting to being a Sentu. “Finding the song” likely meant following a frequency. And without an observation tank, that was going to be hard to pull off. Minor breaches and decryption were easy enough, but she was limited without her tools.
“Equipment?” Davik perked up from his own curious scrolling, finishing a mouthful of noodles with rushed excitement. “Whatcha need? Some secret old Icthian tech, buried on a forgotten asteroid, locked within a chamber guarded by some creature of the void?”
“No,” Fia said, holding back the beginnings of a laugh. “Not that intriguing. I need an amplifier. Signal repeater, transmitter, data buffer.”
Davik drummed his hands on the table. “Oh, that is even better.” He picked up his bowl and moved around to sit right beside her, putting his datapad between them. “Alright, give me the specs. Lay ‘em on me.”
Carissa groaned and rubbed her temples. “Gods above, below, and betwixt. I can’t get one meal without schematics talk or weird innuendo from you two. I’m taking my breakfast with me. Ping me if you need anything.”
Davik was too engrossed in asking about the interworkings of the tank to react to Carissa’s comment.
Between scribbled notes, he asked Fia endless questions about the dimensions and operation of her “Diving Bell”.
He was so enchanted that he didn’t seem to notice that she was staring, and neither did she.
His focus was split between his running notesheet and the fabrication mock-up he was piecing together. And her focus was locked in, intently eyeing that tiny spot on his cheek. That little dimple that would appear with his smile, and disappear when he furrowed his brow.
She answered his questions as they came. But she had a burning question left unanswered when they parted ways after supper.
What sound would he make if I pressed my lips there?
With a cup of decaf in-hand, Fia tapped on the cockpit door. On the other side, she could hear a muffled and raucous conversation — one that ended suddenly as soon as she knocked.
“Come in!” Carissa hollered.
As the door opened, the bright light of the communication screens shone with several human faces nodding and smiling, all interspersed with tiny stylized symbols.
Next to the faces was a wild array of diagrams and maps.
Carissa gestured for Fia to sit in the copilot seat, and she watched with fascination as the woman navigated a complex menu and flurry of commands on her console.
“Alright, Jem. Your character sheet looks good for now, just remember we’re using the 89th edition rulebook, so you’ll need to choose a different blade proficiency. The rest of you, be on time tomorrow. Got it?”
The sea of faces nodded, gave their parting words of thanks. One by one, they disconnected until all that remained were the standard navigation controls in the terminal.
“Did I interrupt something?” Fia asked, handing the mug towards Carissa as she settled in.
“Nah, you came in right at the end. Just setting up for a campaign tomorrow.”
“A campaign?” Fia cocked her head to the side, peering back at the screens. It hadn’t looked like tactical overlays, but it had been a few centuries since she had seen a tactical interface. This might be the strange new way of things.
Carissa accepted the offering and sipped heavily.
“It’s a— Gods. How do I explain this? It’s collaborative storytelling, in a way.
Everyone chooses a role in the story, and I give them the structure to explore it.
I run a few at a time. Got another group starting up here in about fifteen, actually. ”
“I did not expect to find you in here weaving stories. Perhaps cleaning your firearms and intimidating the others in our airspace, but this is surprising.”
“What, you think I just sit up here by myself all day, plotting courses and staring into the void? I’ve got a social life, of sorts.
” Carissa set down her mug and tugged free a brutal and angular heated-plasma pistol from her leg holster, displaying it with a proud flourish.
“But you’re not too far off the mark. I cleaned this baby last night. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Oh, that is marvelous. May I?”
Carissa swiveled the firearm with expert grace and handed it toward Fia, pointing out all the intricate mechanisms of the weapon. She gushed excitedly about all the modifications she had made over the years.
It was a source of pride to her, to be sure, and it brought Fia back to simpler days aboard the flagship. Running drills, maintaining equipment. Even with the backdrop of war, there was a comfort in that routine. Of being among kindred spirits with a shared goal.
And here she was, centuries later. On the other side of that lost war. Feeling homesick beside someone who had served the very force that Fia was warring against.
If only I could truly be at home here. But smuggling nanites will do nothing to help my people find their freedom.
“Yeah, she’s my old faithful,” Carissa concluded as she tucked the pistol back into its holster. “But, you didn’t come up here to serve me coffee and gawk at my polishing skills. What’s on your mind?”
“They are skills worth gawking at,” she said with a smile. “But, I wanted you to know that your aid has been invaluable.” Fia tilted her head, looking down at her hands as she spoke. “It has been strange acclimating to this place. But you two have made it much easier to manage.”
“Yeah, can’t imagine it’s been a breeze getting your bearings in a new system, and four decades removed from where you thought you’d be. Though, how does that saying go? ‘The more things change, the more they stay the same’?”
Fia winced. Lies were hard to keep straight, and she had struggled to remember exactly how many years she had told Davik she had been “on ice” for. The reminder brought to the surface her irritation at having to balance a forged past.
She had to continue being evasive and obscure, and it made her feel like she was sitting in an itchy flight suit every time conversations veered too close to something that would require an outright lie.
“Some things have certainly stayed constant, even here,” she said, hoping her discomfort wasn’t glaringly obvious. “Federation strictures are something I am still struggling to understand. Even humans are not allowed to settle planetside here, I read?”
Carissa let out an affirmative grunt and sipped from her mug.
“Yes, and no. The Fed keeps a lock on any rock even remotely Earthlike in the settled systems. Some people are selected to settle or work there. Others can choose to, given the proper clearance and the funds. The barely habitable rocks, the Fed doesn’t worry about.
But then, someone has to fund terraforming it. And…”
“And so there is no safe home for you to descend to,” Fia stated firmly, sinking back into the chair.
“No offense to your home turf, but it beats dealing with the gangs and the raiders on the Rim. We’ve made the best of it here in Tau Ceti, at least. It’s not perfect, but it works. And I mean that ‘we’ with a capital W. Even your kind are thriving out here, in their own way.”
Fia reached up to rub along her neck, tracing the spot where the Pactbind would sink into her flesh. Even imagining it made her gills recoil in fear.
“Are they?” she asked, a touch of indignation creeping into her tone. “If my reading of the strictures is correct, even bound Icthians cannot freely travel in Federation space. And Federation space is wherever Sol pleases to claim, be it sky or ground. Is that what you consider thriving?”