Paths Not Taken

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

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

Saturday, 09 Jul 2518
Kuiper II Class Summer’s Gift
New Lyon, Beaumonde
Kalidassa (Xuan Yu) System
21:30 hrs, local time

        I called it quits when I couldn’t push the rag another inch. I stowed it and left the engine room rather cleaner than when I’d arrived. I paused on the way out and surveyed my work…and felt no satisfaction from it. I turned my back on it and made for my quarters.
        Nothing but four walls met me when I stepped inside. Which suited me fine: my worry for Mike had me wound up tight and weighted with dread, making me damned unfit company. I shrugged out of my coveralls and kicked off my boots, left them in a pile on the deck. I skinned out of my holster next, pulling my gun free and hefting it. A Tokarev that Mike had given me. I’d had it, fully loaded, during the entire op and yet I’d managed to get through it without firing it once.
        Would events have turned out differently if I’d drawn it? Would Mike be safe with us if I hadn’t frozen on the sidewalk like a goddamned idiot? If only I’d—
        Don’t go there. ‘If only’ nets you nothing. Nothing but insanity.
        So I stood there, gripping my gun and refusing to believe it would be my only keepsake of the man I saw at my feet today, when someone knocked on my door.
        “Rina?” Nika called through the buzzer. “Open up.”
        “Hold on.” I slapped the call button mid-response and holstered the Tokarev, and put the lot loosely wrapped on my pillow. “Gimme a minute.”
        I splashed my face down from a water bottle and dried off. A mistake. The touch of my hands through the towel threatened to set free the despair inside and I stood for a second, getting a grip. I hit the door release with my elbow and went back to my desk, scrubbing my face briskly. The sting steadied me and I looked up to see Nika standing there with two mugs of coffee.
        “Coffee,” she said unnecessarily. She kicked the door closed behind her. “I’d’a brought something more alcoholic, but I got nuthin’ right now.”
        I capped my bottle, made a final pass with the towel and hung it up as if nothing were wrong. Not that it was going to fool Nika for a minute. The woman has eyes on her like a hawk. I took the coffee gratefully and settled on my bunk, and tried not to think how narrow it was or how empty it felt with just me in it.
        Stop. No more self-pity. Any more of it and I’ll be a sobbing mess.
        “This is fine, thanks,” I said, sipping my coffee. It was fresh and it was hot and it thawed some of the cold dread inside. “What occasions the call?”
        Nika shook her head and asked quietly, “Who is he?”
        Nope. Didn’t fool her one bit.
        Her tone was gentle and it rattled me. Anger over my stupidity I could have taken. Hell, I’d have welcomed it. Compassion only undermined my control and I resented it. She went on, twisting the knife deeper.
        “The guy we injured... I know he’s one of the Resistance. And in point of fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him before. What’s his name? And who is he to you that you damn near shit yourself in a public street on an op?”
        She sat next to me on the bunk and sipped her coffee.
        After our conversation on the bridge, after the events of today, there was no prevaricating. To hell with the consequences. I gripped my coffee mug and stared at the opposite wall, and told her the truth.
        “Everything.”
        Beside me, Nika sighed. Then:
        “He’ll be okay. He’ll find a way out. I’m pretty sure it’s not the first scrape he’s been in.”
        Despite my distress, I snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.” She really didn’t. No one did. I closed my eyes and shook my head, feeling it. “I’m tired, Nika. So goddamned tired. What do you want to know?”
        I could hear her grin coloring her voice.
        “Probably know more than you give me credit for,” she said. “Start with who he is. I’m hoping I can place him eventually. Talk to me,” she added softly, moving closer and running her hand through my hair. It was a sisterly gesture and it damned near broke me.
        “Yebani v’rot....” I choked. I bent forward and hugged my knees, evading Nika’s hand and breathing hard to get myself under control. Damned if I would give in and cry, however much I needed the release.
        If I start, I’ll never stop....
        “It’s Carter. Michael Cameron Carter,” I said when I could trust my voice. I straightened and kept it simple. “We met in the war. He saved my life. I owe him everything.”
        Nika stiffened at the mention of Mike’s name.
        “Well, I’ll be damned,” she breathed. Shaking her head, she said quietly, “I’m sorry. But trust me on this... he’ll pull his fat out of the fire. I have every faith.”
        The platitude stung and insult blazed inside me, roman-candle bright.
        “Forgive me, Nika.” I put some steel in my tone and nailed the other woman with it. Damn you and the horse you rode in on…“But you can keep your faith. In my experience trusting isn’t the same thing as knowing. I take only concrete proof and accept no substitutes. It’s the only way to be sure.”
        I stood up and put the coffee down on the first flat surface at hand. It was that or throw it in her face. “Mike will do as Mike does. That’s always been his way and no amount of praying or faith will change that. That’s the price I pay for knowing him, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy paying it.”
        Not fazed in the slightest, Nika’s mouth curled at the corners into a faint grin and I wondered if she hadn’t deliberately goaded me with her remark. I wouldn’t put it past her, the sneaky bitch.
        “Yeah, well... sounds like the guy I knew.” She shrugged. “I’ll have enough faith for both of us, then.”
        “When was that?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Don’t draw this out, girl. Don’t torture yourself. But I found myself leaning against the bulkhead and waiting for Nika’s answer.
        Nika flapped a hand, puffed out a pfft.
        “Ten years ago, easy,” she replied, a watchful expression on her face belying her insouciant attitude. “I remember him now that I have a name, because he came on board after a massive clusterfuck with a prisoner in tow that I helped.... obtain information from.”
        Concrete proof.
        “Sounds familiar.” I smiled, despite, and sobered. “You could even say it’s his specialty, cleaning up other people’s messes.” I picked up my coffee and regarded Nika over its rim. “What happened?”
        “Extraction that almost went south.” Nika shrugged. “Some enlisted mug with intel he wanted to give in exchange for safe passage somewhere.” She paused and smiled faintly at the memory. “I do believe I made him urinate on himself. It was quite entertaining. And I believe your Carter liked my style. Told me if I wanted to change jobs, come see him.” She shrugged again. “I wasn’t too in the business of playing with knives, though. So never really ran into him again.”
        I did the math in my head. Before Highgate. Before I met him, jealousy whispered and I told it to shut the fuck up. I knew where Mike and I stood. “He never did go much for helpless women. Protect them, yes. But he didn’t go for them, if you take my meaning.”
        Raising a brow, Nika sipped her coffee calmly. “You askin’ a question, or makin’ a statement?”
        “Both, even though one’s rude and the other obviously doesn’t need stating.”
        Nika laughed.
        “No,” she said. “I see the no trespassing signs planted firmly on the property, darlin’. And not to worry. Whatever there was, it was a moment in time. One I remember affectionately, but I don’t pine for it or anything foolish.”
        Touché. Give the lady a point.
        She sipped her coffee again and said, “Right place, right time to make things a little easier on one another, that’s all.”
        I looked down at my boots. “That obvious, am I?”
        Nika was a woman given to easy shrugs and hard truths, I noticed, and she didn’t disappoint now.
        “When a woman stops dead in the street and looks ready to puke or pass out, it’s usually cuz the guy means something.” She stood up. “If you wanna talk about it, you know where to find me.”
        Big damned olive branch. Right there in my face. Should I take it?
        “Nika.” I stopped her when she hit my doorstep. “Thanks. I’d like that.”
        I would, really…
        “Just not today.”

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