Coming Clean

[With thanks to Bobby and Terri for RPing this conversation with me--Maer]

An excerpt from Peripatetica, by M. K. Sebastien, Engr. ret.


Wednesday, 06 Jul 2518
Kuiper II Class Summer’s Gift
En route to Beaumonde
Kalidassa System
23:45 hrs, ships time

        I’d spent the last seven hours buried in my work to avoid dwelling on Christian but I couldn’t hide in the engine room any longer. I’d already found and repaired the damage my boost had done and there was nothing left to do. All the gauges were in the black, nothing leapt out and screamed for my attention.
        Nothing except my shoulders and neck. I crawled out from under the deck plates, stretched out the kinks in my spine and stowed my tools. I was covered head to toe in grime and if I intended to look in on Christian, I wanted to be clean. No way in hell was I going to kill him with a stray bit of filth from under my nails. I ducked into my cabin, grabbed my kit bag and a fresh change, and headed for Potemkin’s quarters. The man had an honest-to-God bathtub stashed in there and for once, I was going to soak the damned dirt out of me.
        I locked the bathroom door and took in the room as the tub filled. The man liked his creature comforts. He pampered his skin more extensively than he abused his liver. I opened bottles of lotion and soap at random from his impressive collection, sniffing to find one without much of a scent. I poured a capful of something woodsy into the bath and stripped while it foamed up, then shut the water off when it was a handspan from the top and slid in.
        I almost melted from the pleasure of it.
        It took two changes of water before I was done. I drained the tub and quit the bath with twinge of regret. It was nice while it lasted, but it was time to leave. I tugged on my clothes and raked my fingers through my fresh-washed hair to settle it, frowning at the steamed-over mirror.
        No one’s going to care if it’s messy or straight. Get going.
        Arden was tidying things when I stuck my head in the med-bay. He didn’t notice me at first and I watched a moment as he gathered his instruments, tossed the biohazard stuff in the bin, went to the sink to wash up. He had his hands on his shirt to peel it off when I spoke.
        “How is he?” I asked, my voice low to avoid waking Christian.
        Say what you want about Arden, he recovered well. The man barely jumped. He glanced at Christian before answering.
        “Better, but not quite out of the woods. That Reaver was not a nice person. Hard to believe such violence exists in out ‘Verse.” Arden rinsed off a stray tool, put it in the sterilizer and turned to face me. He crossed his arms, despite the blood on his shirt, and leaned against the counter. “How ‘bout you?”
        That face of his, so like the damned Lieutenant’s, and his pose so like Mike’s—the conflict between the hated and the beloved hit me hard. I covered it by stepping through the door and leaning against the jamb. Crossing my arms put my right hand on the butt of my pistol and it steadied me. I shrugged. “All right, I guess.” I pointed my chin at Christian sleeping unaware on the table. He was pale and waiflike and I resisted the tug on the heartstrings the sight of him inflicted. “He’ll scar.”
        “Maybe,” Arden says. “Some of the new regenerative creams are wonderful. They can keep the skin from puckering. I think that with work and diligent care, he won’t scar much. At least that’s what I want.” Arden shrugs. “Sometimes you just have to take the cards dealt. Right?”
        Since there was no refuting that statement, I let silence speak for me. Arden sighed and hooked a foot around a stool, dragged it over and put a foot on its rung. I examined Christian from where I stood and recalling the damage I’d seen hours earlier, I had to admit that Arden did know what he was doing. The appalling slashes across Christian’s torso were gone, replaced by red seams held shut by sutures. Given what was said about the regenerative creams, in all likelihood the wounds would efface to less alarming welts. Only God and Arden knew how messed up Christian’s insides were.
        Tolka nyimnoga, I prayed. Please, God. Only a little.
        At the counter, Arden stirred.
        “Anything else on your mind?” he asked me.
        “Why?” I countered. “You got anything you wanna know?” Mind your gorram business, my tone said. A warning, should he choose to heed it. He didn’t. I should have known better.
        “Perhaps,” he said easily, even as his expression grew guarded. He examined me carefully and said, “Promise you won’t shoot me if I ask a question?”
        “Ask.”
        “What do you have against me? I mean, it seems the minute we are in the same room your back arches and you all but hiss at me.” Arden smiled and clawed with his hands like a cat, using humor to give me an exit from an awkward question.
        Not that it helped in the least. It was more than awkward. It was personal and no amount of humor would change that. I scowled down at my boots. I was a lousy liar at the best of times and Arden deserved the truth. The trick was gauging how much of it to tell. I looked up at him.
        “It’s…complicated,” I said. “You remind me of someone.”
        “Okay...” Arden paused and took a measured breath. “If I can do anything I will. But please try to remember that I am not whoever. I’m just me and I am still learning how to be that!”
        ‘Still learning’? What the hell does that mean?
        Aware he was waiting for an answer, I gave him a nod and said, “Fine. As long as you don’t get cozy and can keep it professional, I can do the same. You just hit me on a bad day. I’m sorry.”
        “Cozy?” Arden looked shocked. “Er, um... well, you see...,” he trailed off, coloring in embarrassment. “Ah. Well, then. Okay. I can be professional. Sure. Professional. That’s me. Us.” He grinned, his face still red. “I can do that.”
        He looked truly embarrassed and I took pity on him.
        “Good to know you can still blush,” I said then, chuckling to add a little levity.
        “Oh yeah... they hazed me horribly at school when I first arrived. I hadn’t even seen a couple, er, kissing before. Imagine my reaction when I walked in on my roommate and his girlfriend?” Arden chuckled quietly.
        “Ah.”
        A virgin? Him? I rapidly reviewed everything I’d said to him since he’d come aboard. My conscience stabbed and I told it to pipe down. He’s a big boy, words won’t kill him. “You don’t get out much, do you?”
        “It wasn’t pretty,” Arden continued. “Anyhow.... I will be professional, Rina. I can do that. I’m just glad it wasn’t something I did.”
        “Believe me, you’d know if it was something you did. I’ll make you a promise, Arden.” Time to lay it out on the table. I straightened and looked him in the eye. “I promise I won’t shoot you unless you cross the line. And that line is sex. Furthermore, if I cross that line with you, I won’t hold it against you if you shot me. Fair?”
        “More than .... uh, fair.” Damned if he didn’t blush again. “No problem.”
        “Good.”
        There being nothing more I could add, beyond further embarrassment on the man, I nodded farewell and left.


        So I quit the makeshift med-bay, satisfied that Christian was going to make it, and went to the bridge of my ship. Actually, only one-fifth of it’s mine. Huh. Still getting used to the concept... I gained the bridge and stuck my head inside. As I suspected, Nika was still manning the conn. She was slumped in the pilot seat, carefully watching all the sensors for any trouble either ahead or behind.
        “We can give Christian a green light. He’ll pull through.” I didn’t wait for a reply but flopped in the co-pilot’s seat across from her. I scrubbed my face with my hands, smelling Potemkin’s soap on them. God, I was tired. I gave my eyes a final rub and shoved my hands into my pockets, looking crosswise at our pilot. “Arden and I have called a truce. If not exactly a green light, we can put it definitely at the cooler end of the spectrum.”
        She’d slanted a glance toward the door when I popped my head in, and her tense expression eased slightly at the news of Christian’s recovery.
        “Thank God,” she said softly.
        She hadn’t moved from her post since we shook the Reavers. Not even to get more coffee, which she could decidedly use. I could see she was beginning to fade. “Glad to hear it,” she added in response to my cease-fire with Arden. Her blue eyes studied me for a long moment and for once I didn’t evade them but let her look. I’d come clean with Arden already. No point in flinching now.
        “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want... but what’s with you two?” she asked. “Is it that some guy’s had his hands on you in the past, or has Arden done something specific?”
        Her tone was matter-of-fact and I silently thanked her for it. Pity wasn’t something I could stomach.
        “I’d hoped it wasn’t obvious, but no one’s ever accused me of being subtle.” I grimaced and shook my head. I stretched my legs below the console and stared at my boots. “It’s nothing Arden’s done. It’s just that....he reminds me of someone. It’s downright creepy how alike they look.” I shrugged uneasily. Nika had closed her eyes and let her head fall back against her chair, but I could tell she was still listening. “But you’re right. Some guy did, as you put it, have his hands on me. Seeing Arden brought it all back. He just ended up catching the heat for it. I generally don’t think of it, haven’t in years. It’s...complicated,” I added. “And there’s no point in talking it out. Done’s done.”
        “I’m sorry,” she offered. There’s sympathy, but no pity in her tone. A blessing. “Hope you stabbed him good.”
        “Stabbing would have been satisfying, yes.” I admitted and let the moment pass. “The bastard’s dead. That’s all that matters.”
        “Dead’s good,” she agreed without censure, and I was grateful for it.
        “No one’s ever accused me of wearing my heart on my sleeve, either,” I added.
        “What’s the point in doing that? Just gets it broken,” Nika snickered wryly. Then she drew a deep breath and changed the subject. “You know... I’ve heard the stories. Even seen some things out here in the Black. But wasn’t sure they weren’t just makin’ up the Reavers thing. Sure as all hell wish they had been.”
        “Yes. The stories,” I snorted. “They never quite match reality. And we only tangled with one. I don’t want to think what would have happened had there been more.” I paused, not sure how she’d take what I’d say next. “This your first?”
        “Yeah... must have gotten lucky or something.” She opened her eyes and peered at me. “I take it that it’s not your first, though.”
        “No.” Memory stirred. I stared out the bridge windows, my hands fisted in my pockets. “Not my first.”
        Silence.
        I sat there, comfortable with it. It beat voicing what I felt or thought about either topic. I reckoned Nika wasn’t without her own ghosts and demons, either, and it was a rare individual who wasn’t haunted by both. Not this far out, not for anyone spacing this long.
        Nature of the ‘Verse. Damn her contrary hide.
        “It’s the first one I’ve not managed to outrun.” She looked out the bridge windows contemplatively. “I’ve seen the aftermath of an attack. People... ships. The Harbinger even had a couple of close calls over the years with a ship of them. But generally we ran like hell as soon as we realized what was what. It wasn’t our mission to get involved in that. And she was a fast little ship,” she added with a faint, affectionate smile. “But yeah,” she continued. “That’s the first one I’ve ever actually laid eyes on.”
        She misses that ship, I realized. Maybe the people, too. My regard for her went up several notches. Then my head caught up with my ears and I latched onto the ship’s name. Surprise made my tone sharp.
        “Harbinger?” I asked.
        “Yeah....” Nika didn’t miss the tone and she glanced over. “The ship I flew with for the last half of the war and a couple years after. Why?”
        Mike. Not ready to go there yet.
        “Rang a bell. Can’t put my finger on it,” I hedged, and kicked myself for being so transparent.
        “Mmmm.” Nika shrugged and turned back to the windows. “Wouldn’t shock me much. You worked with the same side I did, so... Harbinger did a lot of stuff. Courier work, intel gathering, evacs. You name it. Someone needed something fast, we did it.”
        Damn, now I've another topic to avoid dwelling on. I hadn’t said anything to any of the crew about my military history, but somehow she’d figured mine out. I could tell she was waiting for a response and I was loath to answer without further information. “What side was that?”
        “Mine.” Nika smirked and then chuckled. “Just cuz I don’t run about wearing the damn trench coat doesn’t mean my allegiances aren’t clear. Hell, Rina.... if it wasn’t clear after we took the cargo on board, I can just wear a sign around my neck!”
        Paranoia was worming its way up my spine and I squelched it. Cut it out. Nika’s the decent sort. Practically safe. But still, I couldn’t admit that part of my past without sounding the other woman out first.
        “ ‘Mine.’ I like that,” I said, meaning it. “It beats the hell outa saying ‘Both’.” And that was as close to an admission from me that she was going to get. “Besides, I’m wearing too many damned hats already as it is. Don’t need more. Certainly not one with a big fat target painted on it. And I’m sorry. I never doubted your stand on it. It’s just habit making me ask.”
        She gave me another sideways glance, and a click of her tongue. Tsktsktsk. “Woman, you’re not even the most suspicious person I’ve met... and that’s sayin’ somethin’, you know?” She actually seemed amused. “Look... if what you need to trust me is information, how’s this?” She looked back out the viewport. “If the Alliance knew who’d helped my captain take the ship, my name would be on some hun dahn’s Most Wanted list. I helped the official Alliance captain of what’s now known as the Harbinger steal the gorram ship.” She slanted another look in my direction. “And if that gets out, I’ll know where it came from and your life ain’t worth the blade you carry. Cuz I don’t need to be anywhere close to you to make sure you’re not a threat to me anymore.”
        She said the entire thing with half a smile and were I another woman, I would have found it frightening. We had, however, been through too much by this point and I knew the threat was half-hearted at best. Everyone had their limits, and I recognized I’d just hit hers. Some reciprocity was in order.
        “If word gets out, it won’t be me. You’re not the only one involved I don’t want mixed up in that scenario. Your secret’s safe.”
        As if that were even in question. Nika’s amused expression told me she already knew that, it didn’t need saying. But all she said aloud was:
        “It’ll be interestin’ to see what happens when we get where we’re going. The Colonel’s a pretty decent sort. Far more hardcore than I. I’ve taken jobs here and there for my old crew, but been laying low for a while.”
        “Laying low. Heard that.” I shifted in my chair, slouching a little deeper into the cushions. “Sometimes it’s necessary, but have you ever wished you could come up for air? Just the once?” Careful. You’re skating pretty close to the edge, here.... “I’ve lost count of the crews I could call ‘old’ in the past six months. At least you can look forward to seeing yours.” Hell with it. If I fall through, I fall through. Won’t be the first time.
        “Guess that’s what the past five years have actually been for me,” she said. She’d kept her eyes on the Black outside the viewport, giving me space to say what I’d needed to say and I returned the favor. “Last mission I took for the Harbinger was back that far. ‘Laying low’ for me is more about ... walking away from it all for a while. Like I said -- I take jobs here and there. Like this one for Nguyen and Solon. When I run across ‘em by accident or someone looks me up by design. But flying cargo, just... doing what I want? That’s the coming up for air. All I want to do is fly, without feeling like every mission is life or death. Adrenaline’s great and all, but it makes you old after a while. Needed the space. Ready to go back to the laying low part, I suppose. If the rest of you are willing to take the cargos. If not... I’ll fly with all of you ‘til it’s time to sell out my share.” She shrugged. It really was that easy for her, apparently.
        She paused and I looked over, saw her staring at me.
        “Just who you running from, Rina?”
        Everyone. No one. Me.
        “Right now?” I quirked a brow upward. “Not sure. Sometimes if you run long enough, you lose sight of why you’re doing it. There’s nothing left but running… and the feeling that you dare not stop. Look,” I sighed and faced Nika square. “I’ve been running a good long while now and I’ve outrun just about everything that matters. Shaking off tails, Reavers, whatever--those you can shoot. Those you can kill. Memories are another thing entirely. And right now, that’s what I’m dealing with.”
        I stood up and brushed off briskly.
        “Nothing is going to come between me and this ship, or me and this crew,” I said. “Not to put too fine a point on it, this crew and this ship are all I’ve got. I’m not about to screw it.”
        She gave me a long searching look. Then:
        “Fair enough. Sometimes, though, you gotta stop running and take a good look around. You might find there’s nothing left to run from. You lemme know if you need to talk through it. You know where I am.”
        “I’d prefer to stop running when I know I’ve got something solid under me, thanks. Speaking of solid,” I added, giving the other woman a searching look of my own. “You’re not looking too solid yourself. You want anything from the galley? I’m not as good a cook as Christian, but I can still make a decent cup of coffee.”
        She gave me the most grateful look I’d ever seen and I felt like a shit heel for doubting her integrity. “Coffee’d be real good, thanks. If we’re in the clear another few hours, I’ll get someone to sit here and keep watch to catch some shut-eye.”
        “Java coming up. Tell me when you’re ready to have me spell you. I might not know how to fly, but I know what’s supposed be green on the boards. Sit tight. I’ll be back.” And I got myself out of there. My isolation was making me sloppy, sharing too much information I shouldn’t, my paranoia insisted. I stifled a growl and got that coffee going in the brewer.
        Just give me a pain I’m used to. That’s all I’m asking. Just what I’m used to...
        It was an old mantra, and a familiar one. I leaned against the counter and closed my eyes, and waited for the coffee to stop brewing.

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