Biology was a powerful thing, and while humans had not lived on Earth for generations, the human body still craved Earth’s cycles. Argos was structured accordingly, though with the firm rigidity of a carefully designed calendar. There was no changing of seasons, and the artificial lighting rose and set at the same time each day, with a sort of flat predictability.
In the Forum, the high ceiling was smattered with tiny lights, imitating the night sky that their ancestors had looked on from Earth. Although Argos was in an entirely different sector of the galaxy from Earth, the constellations were the same constellations onto which the human people had projected their oldest mythologies, rotating through the hemispheres and the seasons. Jaya’s eyes always looked for Ursa Major and Ursa Minor when she walked through—the big bear and the little bear nestled safely together in the Forum’s night skies.
Jaya was settled into her bed. Her little room was peaceful and dark, but even in the stillness, she couldn’t sleep. It was jarring to not have the constant, low-frequency vibration of the ship’s engines. In space, the motion of the ship was invisible so long as it was moving at a constant speed, which it almost always was between FTL jumps. But the thrum of the ship itself was always there, almost alive and breathing as much as the crew.
The quiet of the base at night was stale, in comparison. Music still played in her head, and Luka’s words filled whatever silence was left. That’s not something you lose. Not really.
She rolled over onto her side, staring into the velvety black shadows of the room. Then her palm drive beeped, the sound reaching her ears through the implanted earpiece. She opened the holographic display: it was Rhodes. She answered.
“I need your help. We have a personnel situation. I’ll send you the location.”
“On my way,” Jaya responded.
She threw on the clothing she had worn earlier in the evening and tucked a pistol into a shoulder holster. Covering the whole thing with a jacket, she hurried down to the Forum Level.
The location was a small, unremarkable bar. Drinks were cheap, and the place was packed. She spotted Rhodes right away—in a booth halfway back in the room, struggling with a very large, drunk man.
The man was Thompson, and judging by the smell of him, he had started his drinking long ago. Perhaps as soon as he had set foot on Argos and dropped his belongings in the barracks. His jacket was stained with sweat, liquor, and vomit, and he was shouting at Rhodes, who was trying to remove him from his booth.
Thompson’s words were incoherent by now, but when Jaya approached, he mumbled something in her general direction. Rhodes helped steady him as he teetered back, his mouth set in a stern line.
“You could hear him four tables down shouting about the Sons of Priam. He’s pissed out of his mind and was drawing a lot of attention.”
Jaya glanced around. There were furtive glances cast their way from a number of tables, and others were looking very firmly at anything but Thompson.
“Still is,” Jaya said. “We should get him out of here.”
“Yeah,” Rhodes agreed. “Help me get him upstairs. I already settled the bill.”
He maneuvered himself under one of Thompson’s arms, and Jaya wedged herself beneath the other and hoisted the large man up.
Together, they carried Thompson out of the bar and toward the elevator. His shouting had turned to nonsensical mumbles and then silence. His head drooped as they carried him through silent hallways into the barracks.
“My apartment,” Rhodes said. “I’ll keep an eye on him tonight.”
“You sure?” Jaya asked. “Shouldn’t we take him to the med bay?”
Rhodes shook his head. “Not like this. He’s fine, and I’ve got a few sobriety tabs that should ease him back from the edge. But we should avoid HQ. If they catch him this wasted, he won’t be. Shore leave or no.”
They got into Rhodes’s apartment in a neighborhood not far from the Diplomatic Level’s main entrance and hoisted Thompson onto the couch. Jaya helped Rhodes peel off the stained jacket and Jaya rolled it and tucked it under her arm. Rhodes pulled a chair up.
“Thanks, Mill,” he said.
She turned to leave, and then paused. “Did Thompson call you?”
Rhodes heard Jaya’s other question in the silence that followed. Thompson was on her strike team, but Rhodes had been there before she had even known about it. He sighed, and then he looked at the unconscious man as though he might wake from his stupor and provide an answer. After a moment of silence, with Thompson as still as the dead and not looking likely to offer an explanation, Rhodes spoke:
“This is a tough job. It’s a tough life. You know it. I know it.”
Jaya nodded her agreement, and Rhodes continued. “Thompson was a private first class in my very first strike team command. He pissed me off even then. I never thought he was serious enough for this job. He was always goofing off, always ignoring regulations and protocol. But people liked him—he lightened the mood. After a rough day, it was Elias Thompson who got everyone together. Got them to laugh, to forget about whatever had happened.”
He reached over and pulled the blanket up more snugly. “It took me a long time to realize that was a skill,” Rhodes admitted. “It took me a lot longer to learn how to cultivate that skill myself.”
Rhodes smiled, his teeth white against the dark brown of his face, even in the dim light of the room. But it was almost a grimace. There was a long silence. They both watched Thompson—his breath was shallow for sleep. His rest would be fitful at best tonight, and he would have a head full of regrets in the morning.
“I don’t always like him,” Rhodes confessed out of the darkness, “but when it matters most, he pulls it together and does his job. He has a place on the Avalon, and like it or not, the company wouldn’t be the same without him.”
“True,” Jaya said.
“I think Thompson knows that I feel that way. He may not realize that you do, too.”
Jaya nodded, the words landing hard. They weren’t delivered harshly, but she felt the blow all the same.
She shut the door quietly behind herself and took the dirty jacket back to her apartment, doing her best to wash the mess off in the sink. She hung it over her shower door to dry and readied herself for sleep for the second time that night.
In the Forum, the high ceiling was smattered with tiny lights, imitating the night sky that their ancestors had looked on from Earth. Although Argos was in an entirely different sector of the galaxy from Earth, the constellations were the same constellations onto which the human people had projected their oldest mythologies, rotating through the hemispheres and the seasons. Jaya’s eyes always looked for Ursa Major and Ursa Minor when she walked through—the big bear and the little bear nestled safely together in the Forum’s night skies.
Jaya was settled into her bed. Her little room was peaceful and dark, but even in the stillness, she couldn’t sleep. It was jarring to not have the constant, low-frequency vibration of the ship’s engines. In space, the motion of the ship was invisible so long as it was moving at a constant speed, which it almost always was between FTL jumps. But the thrum of the ship itself was always there, almost alive and breathing as much as the crew.
The quiet of the base at night was stale, in comparison. Music still played in her head, and Luka’s words filled whatever silence was left. That’s not something you lose. Not really.
She rolled over onto her side, staring into the velvety black shadows of the room. Then her palm drive beeped, the sound reaching her ears through the implanted earpiece. She opened the holographic display: it was Rhodes. She answered.
“I need your help. We have a personnel situation. I’ll send you the location.”
“On my way,” Jaya responded.
She threw on the clothing she had worn earlier in the evening and tucked a pistol into a shoulder holster. Covering the whole thing with a jacket, she hurried down to the Forum Level.
The location was a small, unremarkable bar. Drinks were cheap, and the place was packed. She spotted Rhodes right away—in a booth halfway back in the room, struggling with a very large, drunk man.
The man was Thompson, and judging by the smell of him, he had started his drinking long ago. Perhaps as soon as he had set foot on Argos and dropped his belongings in the barracks. His jacket was stained with sweat, liquor, and vomit, and he was shouting at Rhodes, who was trying to remove him from his booth.
Thompson’s words were incoherent by now, but when Jaya approached, he mumbled something in her general direction. Rhodes helped steady him as he teetered back, his mouth set in a stern line.
“You could hear him four tables down shouting about the Sons of Priam. He’s pissed out of his mind and was drawing a lot of attention.”
Jaya glanced around. There were furtive glances cast their way from a number of tables, and others were looking very firmly at anything but Thompson.
“Still is,” Jaya said. “We should get him out of here.”
“Yeah,” Rhodes agreed. “Help me get him upstairs. I already settled the bill.”
He maneuvered himself under one of Thompson’s arms, and Jaya wedged herself beneath the other and hoisted the large man up.
Together, they carried Thompson out of the bar and toward the elevator. His shouting had turned to nonsensical mumbles and then silence. His head drooped as they carried him through silent hallways into the barracks.
“My apartment,” Rhodes said. “I’ll keep an eye on him tonight.”
“You sure?” Jaya asked. “Shouldn’t we take him to the med bay?”
Rhodes shook his head. “Not like this. He’s fine, and I’ve got a few sobriety tabs that should ease him back from the edge. But we should avoid HQ. If they catch him this wasted, he won’t be. Shore leave or no.”
They got into Rhodes’s apartment in a neighborhood not far from the Diplomatic Level’s main entrance and hoisted Thompson onto the couch. Jaya helped Rhodes peel off the stained jacket and Jaya rolled it and tucked it under her arm. Rhodes pulled a chair up.
“Thanks, Mill,” he said.
She turned to leave, and then paused. “Did Thompson call you?”
Rhodes heard Jaya’s other question in the silence that followed. Thompson was on her strike team, but Rhodes had been there before she had even known about it. He sighed, and then he looked at the unconscious man as though he might wake from his stupor and provide an answer. After a moment of silence, with Thompson as still as the dead and not looking likely to offer an explanation, Rhodes spoke:
“This is a tough job. It’s a tough life. You know it. I know it.”
Jaya nodded her agreement, and Rhodes continued. “Thompson was a private first class in my very first strike team command. He pissed me off even then. I never thought he was serious enough for this job. He was always goofing off, always ignoring regulations and protocol. But people liked him—he lightened the mood. After a rough day, it was Elias Thompson who got everyone together. Got them to laugh, to forget about whatever had happened.”
He reached over and pulled the blanket up more snugly. “It took me a long time to realize that was a skill,” Rhodes admitted. “It took me a lot longer to learn how to cultivate that skill myself.”
Rhodes smiled, his teeth white against the dark brown of his face, even in the dim light of the room. But it was almost a grimace. There was a long silence. They both watched Thompson—his breath was shallow for sleep. His rest would be fitful at best tonight, and he would have a head full of regrets in the morning.
“I don’t always like him,” Rhodes confessed out of the darkness, “but when it matters most, he pulls it together and does his job. He has a place on the Avalon, and like it or not, the company wouldn’t be the same without him.”
“True,” Jaya said.
“I think Thompson knows that I feel that way. He may not realize that you do, too.”
Jaya nodded, the words landing hard. They weren’t delivered harshly, but she felt the blow all the same.
She shut the door quietly behind herself and took the dirty jacket back to her apartment, doing her best to wash the mess off in the sink. She hung it over her shower door to dry and readied herself for sleep for the second time that night.