Shattered lives, p.39
Shattered Lives, page 39
part #2 of Rymellan Series
This was Mo’s fault. When Ann left the Falcon, Mo could have been rid of her once and for all. But no, she had to answer her dispatches, because she was missing Les and feeling sorry for herself.
Les sat next to her and reached for her hand. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Mo glared into space. “I can tell her to stay away.”
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”
Mo sighed.
“He’s twenty-two, old enough to take care of himself.”
“Yeah, and she’s flaming twenty-seven!”
Les shrugged. “If he’ll turn twenty-three before she turns twenty-eight, that wouldn’t be unusual for Chosens.”
“But they’re not Chosens!” Mo snapped. She took a deep breath. She was angry with Ann, not with Les, and certainly not with Andrew. “He doesn’t know what she’s like. I’m going to talk to him.”
“He won’t listen to you. If you try to interfere, all you’ll do is push them closer together.”
That was the last thing she wanted. She pulled her hand from Les’s and flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “I introduced them. I told them to dance together.”
Les chuckled. “I remember now.”
“It’s not funny! Am I the only one who cares about Andrew?”
“No. But there’s nothing you can do.”
Mo wasn’t sure she could stand by and watch Ann set Andrew up for a gigantic fall. Worse, she’d then have to see Ann swaggering around 72 with a perpetual smirk on her face, asking her how Andrew was every five minutes.
“I take it you’re staying here tonight,” Les said.
“Yeah, I am. And do you mind if I sleep on this side of the bed? I want a clear path to the bathroom, in case I have to throw up.”
Amusement flashed across Les’s face. “Andrew’s never been that serious about dating,” she said. “They’ll probably hang out for a while, get bored, and move on.”
No, they’d hang out for a while, Ann would humiliate him, and she’d move on. In the meantime, Mo would be stuck in the middle, and when things did blow up, she’d have to endure Ann’s gloating on 72 and Andrew’s pain at home. “I have to do something!” she moaned.
“Mo, you’ll only make things worse. Stay out of it. If Ann is playing some game, the worst thing you can do is react. Just ignore it. She’ll get bored.”
“You’re right,” Mo mumbled, planning to avoid Ann. If she ran into her on 72, nothing would stop Mo from speaking her mind.
*****
Jayne rifled through her closet, wondering what she hoped to find. The outfit Carol had bought her was the only formal outfit she owned. It was suitable for the awards ceremony, but Jayne had already worn it. Considering that she’d patched most of her other clothes and usually didn’t care what she wore, that shouldn’t bother her—and wouldn’t, if not for Adelaide, and perhaps Lesley and Mo. They said they didn’t care, but had Mo truly offered to buy her another outfit because she wanted her to feel comfortable? Or was she just being diplomatic? Jayne sank onto the bed, pulled out her comm unit, and beeped Carol.
“If they say they don’t care, then they probably don’t care,” Carol said after Jayne had told her why she’d just vainly searched through her closet.
It was the “probably” that worried Jayne. “Mo offered to buy me a new outfit. She said it was so I’d feel comfortable, but I don’t know if that’s true.”
“So what are you worried about, then? You’re getting a new outfit.”
“I turned her down.”
“Why?”
She rose from the bed and paced. “Because it’s humiliating.”
“It’s humiliating that your Chosen wants to buy you a present?”
“That’s not what she’d be doing. And it’s not just that. I’m going to lose my allotment.”
“There’s nothing you can do about that,” Carol said firmly. “You’ll link accounts with them when you Join, anyway.”
“I’m sure they’ll appreciate my three credits.”
“There’s nothing you can do.” Jayne heard Carol’s exasperation. “You’ll have enough adjusting to do without creating problems.”
“I’m not creating a problem, Carol! It’s a real problem for me.”
“What, that you’ll be dependent on them? Right now, you’re dependent on Rymellans you don’t know.”
Something Jayne tried not to think about.
“Take it one step at a time. Beep Mo. Tell her you’ll take her up on her offer. If she wants to do something nice, let her do something nice. You will feel more comfortable at the ceremony in a new outfit, right?”
Jayne nodded, then remembered Carol couldn’t see her. “Right. But I wish I could take care of myself.”
“Apply to college.”
“What?”
“Apply to college. Art school.”
Jayne sat on the bed again. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I won’t get in.” As she’d told Carol every time they’d had this conversation over the past few years.
“You won’t know until you apply.” When Jayne remained silent, Carol said, “So let’s say you apply and you’re turned down. At least you’ll know for sure. You could be accepted.”
“Even if I am, nobody will buy anything I create. You know that.”
“Do it for you. You’d enjoy art school, and if you were in college, you wouldn’t feel so bad that they’re supporting you.”
“I don’t know, Carol.” What was the point, when she wouldn’t get in? If her name didn’t disqualify her, then her portfolio would. Not one art teacher had encouraged her. Nobody, except those who didn’t want to offend her—and she could count them on one hand—had ever said a positive word about her drawings. She told herself it was because of who she was, but maybe she just lacked talent and her name was a convenient rationalization. When they turned her down, she still wouldn’t know if she was deluding herself, so why bother?
“Think about it,” Carol said. “You have nothing to lose by applying. And beep Mo about the outfit. You want to, otherwise you wouldn’t have beeped me.”
Jayne chuckled. “You know me too well.”
Carol’s voice softened. “Yes, I do. And I think you should apply to art school. And that’s the last thing I’ll say about it,” she added when Jayne drew breath. “For now. Beep Mo. Bye.” She disconnected before Jayne had a chance to respond.
Jayne stared at her comm unit for a minute, then punched in Mo’s code. Oh good, she wasn’t answering. Leaving a message would be easier. “Hi, Mo. It’s Jayne. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to buy me an outfit for the awards ceremony. It’s really generous of you, and I appreciate it very much. Let me know when you’re available to go to the Trading Centre. I’m available anytime. Okay, then. Bye.” Should she have said thanks again at the end? Or would that have been too much?
Mo beeped her fifteen minutes later. “Sorry, I was in the shower. Yeah, that’s great! But I don’t have to go to the Trading Centre with you unless you want me to.”
“You sure?”
“Just authorize me to transfer credits into your account. I mean, if you want me there, I’ll go. But to be honest, I’ll probably be bored. I hate trading for clothes.”
Jayne could relate. “Maybe I’ll take Carol with me, then.”
“Yeah, do that.”
“I really appreciate it, Mo. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. Anyway, I have to go. I promised Nathan I’d fly him to class.”
They said good-bye. Jayne would feel more comfortable at the ceremony, but she didn’t feel comfortable now. Maybe Carol was right and she should apply to art school. At least while her application was in, she’d feel as if she were trying to do something with her life—or fool herself into thinking she was, since the gesture wouldn’t result in anything but a rejection dispatch. And then what? Would she still cling to the belief that she had talent, or would the rejection suck all the joy from drawing? No matter what happened, she’d still be dependent on Lesley and Mo. So maybe applying to art school wasn’t such a good idea. It wouldn’t solve anything in the end, and might force her to relinquish a long-held delusion, one she wasn’t ready to give up.
*****
Mo read the dispatch from Archer and snapped off her comm unit in disgust. “Great.”
Les looked up from her late supper. “What is it?”
“Archer wants me to do a couple of shifts, one Sunday and one Monday.” Maybe she could avoid Ann, though Ann would probably seek her out. Mo’s icy silence in response to Ann’s dispatches hadn’t deterred her from sending three or four a day. “You’re on duty, I guess?”
“I am on Monday.”
There went that idea.
“I’d go with you, if I could,” Les said, giving Mo a sympathetic smile.
“I suppose you’ll see Jayne on Sunday,” Mo said, trying not to sound surly. “Otherwise Berry will wonder.”
Les swallowed a mouthful of food and pointed her fork at Mo. “Take Jayne with you.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Why not? Her presence might keep Ann away, and you won’t have to worry about us seeing each other. We’ll have to see each other at some point, but maybe you’ll have calmed down about Ann by then.”
Mo doubted it. “Where’s Jayne supposed to sleep?”
“You can request two bedrooms. They have to comply. You’re notified Chosens, not Joined.”
Mo considered Les’s suggestion more seriously. Having Jayne along would prevent her from sitting in her quarters brooding about Ann, and Les seeing Jayne.
“Jayne has to go sometime,” Les said. “This would be the perfect introduction to 72. It’s a one-night stay, not four or five nights.”
“And you won’t mind?”
“No. I trust you.”
Mo detected a slight edge in Les’s voice and knew it wasn’t because Les was worried, but because of the unspoken Why can’t you trust me? “I wonder how everyone will react to Jayne being on 72.”
“You’ll have to find out sometime. You could wait until I can go too, but that might be a while. And you sort of need someone to go up with you now.”
That was true. She turned on her comm unit again and beeped Jayne. “How would you like to go with me to 72 on Sunday?” she asked after they’d exchanged greetings. “We’d come back on Monday.”
“72?” Jayne exclaimed. “Are you sure you want me along?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s only for one night. I’ll have to fly a couple of shifts, but they’re only four hours each. You can stay in our quarters, if you want. But I’ll show you a couple of places you might like.” The observation deck was high on the list. “You’ll have to go sometime, so we thought a one-night stay would be a good way to start.”
“So Lesley knows?”
“Yeah. She’s right here.” Mo held the comm unit out so Les could say hello. “So what do you say?”
“Is Lesley coming too?”
“No, she’s on duty on Monday.”
Silence, then, “I hope I don’t throw up.”
Mo smiled. “If you suffer from space sickness, it’s better to find out now. Don’t worry, it’s easy to remedy. So what do you say?”
“Okay, I’ll go,” Jayne said, sounding mortified. “What time?”
“I’ll pick you up around 8:00. In the morning.”
“Do I need to bring anything special?”
“No, just pretend you’re staying overnight with a friend.” Which she was. “Bring your sketchbook. You might find some interesting things to draw.”
“Oh, I’ll bring it,” Jayne said fervently.
An image of a white-knuckled Jayne clinging to her sketchbook flashed through Mo’s mind. She stifled a giggle. “I’ll see you Sunday morning, then.”
As soon as they disconnected, she beeped Archer. “It’s Mo. Sure, I’ll fly those shifts. Can you book me quarters with two bedrooms? I’m bringing my Chosen.”
Archer, who’d been on 72 forever and knew of her and Les’s relationship, chuckled. “Had an argument with Lesley?”
“Not that Chosen. My other Chosen.”
“Oh,” Archer said, suddenly serious. “I see. Um, all right.”
“See you Sunday?” Mo said after several seconds of dead air.
“Yes. Archer out.”
Mo stared at her comm unit, then looked at Les. “What do you want to bet that he’s beeping Larson and whoever else he can think of right now? I won’t be surprised if they tell me I can’t bring her.”
“They can’t do that,” Les said. “If they don’t want her on 72, they’ll have to ban you, as well.”
“Wouldn’t that be great! The closest I’d ever get to a real fighter is the simulators.”
Les pushed her plate away. “They won’t do it. They’ll hold their noses. You’re too good to be completely and utterly grounded. Ross would fight it, and so would others.”
Still, Mo held onto her comm unit, expecting it to beep at any moment with the news that she’d been removed from the domestic supply list. Only after Les finished dessert did she slide it back into its holder.
*****
Jayne tried not to cling to Mo as they left the shuttle and strode into the waiting area. “Grab my arm,” Mo said over her shoulder. Surprised, and grateful not to have to fight the urge, Jayne grasped Mo’s arm.
The waiting area was busier than Jayne expected and seemed unnaturally quiet, given the number of Rymellans milling around. A few whispers and a cough here and there, but that was it. Was talking against a rule? Blood rushed to her cheeks. They weren’t here to see her, were they?
Mo confirmed her fear after they’d passed through the waiting area and entered an elevator. “Can’t get away from the gawkers, I guess,” she said as she pressed a button labelled D6.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have brought me.”
“You had to come sometime. Was the shuttle ride okay? You seemed better after we lowered the window shade.”
Something about being surrounded by nothingness rattled Jayne. “You must think I’m fragile. You and Lesley zoom around in fighters, but I can’t handle a shuttle ride.”
“It was your first time. You’ll get used to it.”
Like she’d get used to the fact that she was now on a space station orbiting around the planet, a space station that could drop from space at any moment and burn up in the atmosphere, incinerating her and everyone else on board in an instant? Her grip tightened around Mo’s arm. “Oh, sorry!” she said, letting go.
“I didn’t even notice,” Mo said with a smile. Then she frowned. The elevator door swooshed open. “It should be to the left.” Mo led the way to her quarters, stepped inside, and surveyed the room. “I didn’t realize how much larger two-bedroom quarters are. Nobody I hang out with has ever been at the stage of needing two bedrooms. Well, David, a friend of mine—he needed two bedrooms on the Falcon, but I don’t remember his quarters being that much larger than mine.”
Jayne glanced around, struck by the room’s sterling appearance. A cleaning crew had obviously visited after the last occupant had left, and the lack of personal belongings, ornaments, and trinkets lent the room a sterile air. She was almost afraid to touch anything.
Mo peered inside both bedrooms. “They’re identical, so do you want the left or the right?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Are you a late sleeper?” Mo asked as she shrugged the knapsack off her back and dropped it just inside the door of the room on the left.
“No.”
“You hungry? It’s a little early for lunch, but I have to fly at 12:00. I’ll need to head out at 11:40 or so.”
Jayne glanced at her comm unit. They had about an hour. “Let’s eat, then.”
“Why don’t you come with me to the canteen? Then you’ll know where it is, in case you want to get a snack while I’m gone.”
Jayne wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to roam around the space station on her own, but since it sounded as if this stay would be the first of many, somehow she’d force herself out into the corridors. “If I’m up before you tomorrow, I’ll get us breakfast.” Maybe fewer people would be up and about then.
Mo’s face lit up. “That would be great! But I’m flying at 08:00 tomorrow, so I’ll be up at 07:00.”
Then Jayne would set her alarm for 6:00. She wanted to be useful.
“Anyway, you want to dump your bag?”
Jayne left her knapsack and sketchbook on the bed in her room and accompanied Mo to the canteen, doing her best to commit the route to memory. She was a bit surprised at how few people they passed in the corridors.
“The space station is huge,” Mo said when Jayne voiced her thoughts. “And a lot of people are on shift. I’ll show you around tonight. I want to take you to one of the observation decks. You can see Rymel!”
Hopefully she wouldn’t faint.
They decided to take lunch back to Mo’s quarters, where they made fast work of their sandwiches. Jayne tried not to panic when Mo headed for the door. “I’ll be back at around 16:20,” Mo said, making Jayne mentally subtract twelve to convert from military time. “Oh, send Les a dispatch, let her know we made it here okay. And you don’t have to stay in here. Walk around. If you get lost, um . . . beep Les! She can guide you back. Or ask someone. We’re in quarters D6-155.”
“Okay,” Jayne said, intending to stay inside until Mo returned.
“Oh, and look over the emergency instructions near the door. If there’s an evacuation, just follow everyone else.”
Emergency? Evacuation? Jayne forced herself to think about something else. What did one say to a pilot about to go on patrol? “Be careful.”
“I can do this in my sleep,” Mo said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But I will. See you later.”
Jayne busied herself with unpacking her few items and slipping them into a drawer, which took all of five minutes. She sent a short dispatch to Lesley, then settled on the sofa to sketch, and forgot where she was. Before she knew it, it was almost 4:00. She wandered over to the small kitchen area she’d noticed. Mo might appreciate a tziva when she returned.
