Song of the Navigator (21 page)

“No, nothing like that,” Tover assured her, thinking of Peter Owens. If he wasn't careful, he'd get Delia fired, or sent to a frozen outpost lacking her beloved Harmony parties to unwind at. “But I am frustrated that my access has been so restricted, for security reasons.”

“Is that why they are doing all this?” She shook her head. “They should have thought of this before you got kidnapped.”

“There's a gift I have for a friend of mine, and I haven't been able to give it to her,” Tover said. “It's very important to me, and they don't care about that. My personal needs are not as important as my security.” He leaned closer. “Would you give it to her for me?”

Delia raised an eyebrow. “I'm assuming it's not a live bird.”

Tover laughed at that. “No. I
keep
those.” He got up and found the data drive with Cruz's report on it. He handed it to Delia. “It's for Jemma Rose, in the Republicast offices. You know where they are?”

“No.”

“They are located in the Gemini Business Center.”

“Right.” Delia put the data drive in her purse. “Jemma Rose? She's your friend?”

Tover nodded. “I took some holocasts of the last time we partied together. Tell her it's from me and is a belated birthday present.”

“Okay.” Delia smiled at him. She lowered her voice. “I take it this isn't officially allowed.”

Tover leaned in close to whisper. “Like you said, my access has been cut off, but this is really important.”

“Then I'll do it.” Delia took out a recorder. “So, do you want to go over the last week of work with me?”

Tover was surprised. “Really?”

“Why not?” Delia shrugged. “I went through all the trouble of sneaking into your hotel room, I might as well give you a full session. So let's talk about this throwing-up business and see if we can't come up with some strategies for lessening your nausea.”

“I think I love you, Delia Yu,” Tover said.

She laughed and got to work.

The problem with Tover's casual way of getting Cruz's newscast to Jemma Rose was that there were a million ways it could go wrong, and he wouldn't know about it.

Delia could forget to give it to Jemma, or be intercepted by Harmony security. Jemma could be confused by the message, remember her dislike of Tover, and toss it outright. Or she could watch it and decide it was too hot, or too dull, or too unsubstantiated to cover.

Nevertheless, Tover watched Jemma's newscast every night, hoping the story of Carida's future would be displayed.

Days went by, and nothing came of his efforts. He grew disheartened. Cruz would be on the base in another day or two. Tover was out of time.

At last, on the station newscast, a full six weeks after his return to the station, reporters broke the news that the Caridan terrorist who had captured and tortured the station navigator had been brought to DK Station for transfer to Great Arland. Holocam footage showed the PK cruiser docking at the station and the transfer of a man, face hooded for privacy, as he was marched into the detention cells.

Tover knew Cruz's bare arms by heart.

Tover's desire to create an orbifold and jump into the detention cells was so overpowering he had to engage Delia's breathing exercises to calm himself. Even the peace of his aviary couldn't calm his restlessness and desperation. Why the hell was Jemma taking so long?

In the morning, Wert and Wilson greeted Tover without McIntire. He wasn't sure if this was out of trust or because McIntire had to go intimidate some other Harmony employee.

On his way to the cargo control deck, a small crowd of reporters and tourists had gathered as usual.

“Navigator?”

Tover turned at the quiet female voice. Jemma Rose stood amongst the throng of lower-level reporters and tourists.

“Hello, Jemma,” he said, keeping the enthusiasm in his voice to a minimum.

“Keep moving,” Wert whispered in Tover's ear.

“She's a friend, it will look odd,” Tover hissed back. Wert backed away slightly, but his hand clamped onto Tover's biceps.

“How are you?” Tover asked, smiling at Jemma as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd.

“Good! I got your present.” She narrowed her eyes. She was a stern-looking woman with a shaved head and large earrings. “It's a lot bigger than I expected from you.”

“Well, if anyone can use something of that size it would be you,” he said with a wink.

“I'll try it tonight,” Jemma said.

“Let's go,” Wilson said, pushing Tover from behind.

“Nice to see you!” Tover shouted, waving as he walked forward. He didn't bother turning around.

“Giving presents, are we?” Wilson asked.

“Jealous, Wilson? I have a few sex toys left if you want one yourself.”

Wilson grimaced, yanking Tover's arm and jerking him into the control-deck entrance.

Tover's jumps that day went relatively smoothly. Partly knowing something big was about to happen helped. Or maybe it was only that this would no longer continue. One way or another it would end.

Back in his rooms, Tover spent the hours between the end of his shift and twenty in his aviary, taking in the joyous sounds of birdcalls and water trickling into the soil.

He adored these birds. He wished he could take them with him, but he couldn't. It would be dangerous for them, and unfair. Their lives had been reduced to ornaments in this cage, but it was better than anything else that awaited them elsewhere. He hoped his substantial transfer of funds to Jason McGory's account and lengthy notes about their care would leave them in caring hands.

Close to twenty, Tover showered, shaved and changed into loose, comfortable clothing. He packed a small bag of essentials.

The Republicast started at twenty with a loud introduction.

“The Fate of Carida: Harmony's Ten Year Internment Plan,” Jemma announced over the rising chords of her theme music.

Tover watched the show as he ate a heaping bowl of fettuccine alfredo, a twenty-ounce steak, and followed it with a fried banana split. The amount of food made him sick, but that was okay. It wouldn't be in him for long.

“Fuck!”

Cruz exploded backward from his bunk. He lost his balance and collapsed into a heap on the grated floor of his detention cell.

Tover stood there, breathing deeply from the jump. His stomach churned emptily. The orbifold only needed to take him twenty stories down on the station into the detention center, but it was enough of a distance to make him ravenous with hunger.

He looked Cruz over in the dim light of the cell. Cruz's treatment at the hands of the PK secret service was far better than his own incarceration had been, but he'd still clearly been beaten.

His nose was broken and dried blood crusted the left side of his face. His respirator made an uneven sucking sound, as if busted.

The rest of Cruz looked filthy but whole, and he seemed to be in a bit of shock at Tover's sudden appearance.

Tover didn't waste time. He swiveled the pack on his back around and unzipped it. He grabbed his respirator clip, to hold at the ready. With his other hand he ripped open an energy bar and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Tover?” Cruz whispered. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Tover didn't answer. He polished off the energy bar and hastily crammed in another. He wouldn't be able to undo Cruz's restraints right now, but that was all right, as long as he could jump them somewhere where help would be on hand.

“Is your house safe?” Tover asked, mouth full.

Cruz blinked at him. “Are you serious?”

“Where is it safe for you?” Tover asked again. He tossed the wrapper.

Cruz swallowed. “Yes, it should be. Ana is still there, no one came back after I was arrested.” He frowned. “I don't want you to do this. You'll get sick again. Emaciated.”

“Tell Ana to feed me high calories,” Tover said between mouthfuls. “And none of that low-fat yogurt shit she's so fond of.”

A tentative smile broke over Cruz's face. “Are you sure? You'll never be able to come back.”

“I know.” Tover hesitated, but he had to ask. “Your mom. Is she…?”

Tears instantly filled Cruz's eyes. “She's dead.”

Tover's grief swelled inside of him, but there was no time to break down now. They could cry later.

“We've got to go.” Tover repositioned his pack and climbed on top of Cruz, clutching him in a desperate embrace. “Hold on tight. Don't let go.”

“Tover.” Cruz's respirator wheezed loudly. “Listen. I love you.”

Tover smiled. Then he opened his mouth and jumped them across the galaxy.

Chapter Twenty

The unsettling stretch of subatomic manipulation filled Tover's senses with acute nausea, only to be replaced immediately with heavy air and a gasping desperation to breathe.

He rolled off Cruz and stared up at the ceiling of Lourdes's living room, body weak and useless. Panic flared as he tried to inhale a breath and couldn't. He fumbled to lift his hands and put the respirator on his face, but he dropped it. His hands could barely function. He couldn't close his fingers.

He gasped loudly for air, suffocating and unable to call for help. His head dropped to the side. He saw Cruz rub his face against the wood floor, dislodging his own respirator before shuffling over to Tover. His hands were still cuffed behind him.

“Ana! Ana!” Cruz cried out, writhing as he tried to pick up Tover's breath clip. “
Ayúdame! Ayuda, Ana!
” he bellowed.

“
Ay, Dios mío!”
Ana rushed from her bedroom and darted into Tover's field of vision, but he was losing consciousness. He felt fingers on his face, heard something in Spanish. Everything felt weak, and heavy. He was so thirsty, and so tired. He closed his eyes.

White cotton sheets. A pillow. Home.

Tover blinked. The air was thick and humid, full of the odor of cut grass and wet soil.

He tried lifting his hand and was surprised he could. His left hand was heavy. A nutrient bag was attached by IV to his wrist. He felt sluggish and weak as hell, but he was alive.

Alive
, and free.

Something warm shifted beside him. He groggily turned his head and saw Cruz, sleeping alongside, his bruised face shiny with nu-skin. It was dark outside. He wasn't sure if it was simply the time change from DK Station or if he'd slept an entire day. He nearly asked Cruz, but he looked so peaceful sleeping there, Tover simply turned on his side and stared at Cruz's face until he fell asleep again.

He had a new nutrient bag when he awoke the second time. By now it was light out and Cruz was no longer beside him. Tover sat up, feeling queasy but excited that he was here, on Carida. He adjusted his respirator.

The room was momentarily unrecognizable, until he spotted the light lace cardigan hanging over a chair in the corner. He was in Lourdes's bedroom. He felt a moment of utter grief that he had been the destruction of someone so good and pure.

The smells of something with cinnamon and chocolate baking filled the room, and his stomach rumbled in response. In the living room he could sense the presence of several people, and heard low voices speaking a mixture of Spanish and English.

He lay back down, luxuriating in the feel of sheets warmed by starlight. Everything smelled delicious here.

The bedroom door opened hesitantly and Ana poked her head in. “You're awake!”

She shut the door and rushed in, hugging Tover to her. Tears filled Tover's eyes, and before he could stop himself he sobbed onto her shoulder. She cried as well, and he thought,
what a pitiful sight we make
, but he couldn't care. He was
here
, and all the doubts and indecisive anxiety he had about the idea of giving up everything—his career and safety and identity—to return to this toxic planet evaporated. He had made the right choice, he knew it by the way his bones settled in the bed, the way he felt an all-encompassing sense of comfort.

Home.

“Can you believe I missed you, you complaining bastard?” Ana said, pulling back. She wiped her eyes.

“I only returned for the food,” Tover told her.

Ana slapped his shoulder, smiling. “Asshole!” She lifted his nutrient bag. “You're almost done with
another
one?” She shook her head. “Over the last two days I've given you enough liquid calories to resuscitate a small army, you know.”

“That must be why I have to piss so badly.”

Ana grinned. “Need help?”

“No way,” he scoffed. “Where's Cruz?”

“Talking to los jefes in the living room.” Tover tensed, but she quickly added, “Don't worry, Ramirez and Peres aren't here. Ramirez got shot when they captured Cruz from the safe house, and Peres has been pushed out. You aren't in danger.”

“Unless I take the hardware out of my head, I'm too valuable to ever be out of danger,” Tover told her. He offered a smile. “But I appreciate the support.” Standing, he had to hold his trousers up with his right hand to stop them from falling down. He gripped the nutrient bag with his left.

“Lourdes's bathroom is through there.” Ana pointed to a door on the far wall of the bedroom.

“Thanks.” Tover made his way to the bathroom and leaned against the wall, breathing in the thick, humid air of Carida as he relieved himself. When he returned to the bedroom, Ana still sat on the bed.

“I'm cooking tamales and a cake for you and los jefes, but what do you want for dinner? I'll make whatever you want.”

“That soup.” Tover sat next to her. “The one you made when I first got here? I still dream about it.”

Ana smiled. She reached up and touched his neck.

“Looks better, right?” Tover asked.

“Amazing.” She shook her head. “You can't even see where the scar was. They did a good job on you.”

Yes they did
, he thought bitterly.

Ana dropped her hand. “You heard about Mom, right?”

Tover nodded, clenching his teeth together. “Ana, I'm so sorry. It's my fault—”

“Don't,” she interrupted, lifting her palm as if to physically hold him back. “I only just finished convincing Cruz it wasn't
his
fault that she was killed. I don't want to waste more time doing the same to you.”

“If she hadn't healed me, she wouldn't be dead,” Tover said. “It's the truth.”

“And if you told her she would be shot for healing you?” Ana replied, “she'd do it anyway. The blame lies only with the person who ordered that soldier to shoot her.”

Tover looked over at Lourdes's cardigan. “I missed her. More than I thought I would.”

The door flew open and Cruz entered, dressed casually in dark-olive cargo pants, a lightweight black T-shirt and military boots.

His dark hair had just been cut short, and his face looked nearly healed thanks to the nu-skin. Only the hint of a scar ran across the bridge of his nose. His expression, normally so guarded, lit up.

“Hey.” The corner of his mouth curled up into a grin. He walked to the bed and kissed Tover. Tover leaned into the solid weight of him.

Worth it,
he thought.
All of it. Worth this
.

“Ugh,” Ana groaned, getting up to leave. “Don't mind me sitting here.”

“Get out,” Cruz said, never taking his eyes off Tover.

“Prick!” she replied.

“Thank you,” Tover added, breaking another kiss to smile at her.

“By the way, Cruz, Feo asked me to marry him last week and I said yes.”

Cruz spun around as Ana slammed the door behind her.

Tover laughed. “Uh-oh.”

Cruz looked angry for a second. Then it melted and he grinned lazily, carefully leaning Tover back across the bed. “I'll deal with that later.”

“What about los jefes?” Tover asked.

“Now they're waiting for Ana's tamales.” Cruz ran his hand down Tover's chest. Tover involuntarily shivered at the touch. “God, you're so thin. How are you feeling?”

“Hungry, but fine. How about you?”

“Horny.” Cruz kissed him again, carefully leaning over Tover's body.

Tover was almost amazed at his cock's ability to swell with blood, given how emaciated he was two days ago. But clearly the army's worth of nutrients and calories Ana had pumped into him had gone
somewhere
.

He didn't have energy for much though, and neither did Cruz, it seemed. He set a lazy pace for them, simple kisses and strokes, and with a quick working of Tover's fly Cruz had both their cocks in his hand, pumping them in rhythm, delicious friction causing Tover to moan into Cruz's neck.

“Shhh,” Cruz whispered, “there's like six guys in the next room.”

Tover stopped writhing. “Shit. Will they freak?”

Cruz laughed. “No. They don't care, but I don't want anyone sticking their head in here and thinking they can join in on the fun.” He kissed Tover deeply, then pulled back, staring into Tover's eyes. “You're your own man now, and I won't let anyone ever touch you again without your explicit permission, you hear me?”

Tover thrust into Cruz's palm, his precome lubricating the movement. It didn't take much longer. Cruz's ejaculation spurred his own, and although his breathing grew labored, although he was now sticky with come and ravenously hungry and tired as all hell, he couldn't think of a time when he'd felt more happy.

Afterward, Tover and Cruz got cleaned up, then joined Ana and los jefes in the dining room.

Tover felt nervous, surrounded by those who had wanted to enslave him. But he recognized several of the faces around the table. And Feo was there, giving Tover a hug and a sloppy kiss on the forehead like he was some lost sibling.

“I told them you've joined our side,” Cruz clarified, pulling a chair out for Tover. They all sat around a massive wooden dining table that had always been covered in medical supplies and various unpacked shipments the last time Tover had stayed.

The makeup of los jefes surprised Tover. Something about the term suggested to him dozens of white-bearded men directing the fate of the Caridans impassively.

Instead, there was only one man sitting at Lourdes's massive dining room table with a white beard. The rest looked younger, and there were women as well.

“Tover, I want you to meet the leaders of el Pulmon Verde. This is Diego.” Cruz pointed to the bearded man, and moved clockwise. “Ramon, Luis, Maria, Tomas, Olivia and Soto.”

Tover inclined his head in greeting.

“And friends,” Cruz said, giving Tover a look of fierce pride, “this is Tover Duke, one of only forty-two improvisational navigators in the universe. His powers are beyond your wildest beliefs. And he saved me.”

Tover flushed with the compliment. Los jefes looked at him with a mix of expressions—curiosity, suspicion and gratitude.

“Thank you for bringing Arcadio home,” the old man, Diego, said. “We're grateful for this.”

“He's done more than that!” Ana burst out, clearly incapable of remaining silent for longer than two minutes for any occasion. “Tover's also the one that broke the newscast. He gave the story to Republicast! We owe him everything.”

That seemed a bit of an exaggeration, but he smiled at her regardless. “Has there been any pickup of the story? I left as it broke.”

The man named Luis laughed. “You could say that.”

Feo helped Ana bring platter after platter of food to the table. Once everything was laid out, he sat beside Ana and held her hand. Cruz watched Feo, frowning, but didn't comment.

As the food was passed, Tover's stomach growled loud enough that he feared everyone would hear and mock him. But they'd already moved on from him and were instead discussing what came next. The group switched easily between Spanish and English, clearly everyone fluent in both languages, so Tover missed quite a bit of the discussion. He decided one of the first things he would do as part of his new life on Carida would be to learn the native language.

Thinking about language made him think about studying, and maybe seeing if there were reference materials on the net he could get ahold of in Spanish regarding native Caridan bird life. The thought made him tap his feet in excitement.

Tover's attention was drawn by the heaping platter of food that was passed around the table. Dozens of small items wrapped in banana leaves were emitting some mysterious, delicious odor that, embarrassingly, was making his mouth water.

“You like tamales?” Olivia whispered, handing Tover the platter.

“I don't know, but I have a good feeling I will.” He took two because the smell was so incredible.

The taste was to die for. His body still demanded fat and protein, no matter how many bags of liquid nutrients he'd absorbed in the last two days, so he ate with an oblivious, ravenous hunger. He briefly recalled those first days on
The Baroque
, stuffing flavorless meat and potatoes in his mouth, plotting his escape.

But this was different. Each bite was an explosion of flavor, and while the men and women surrounding him weren't friends—he wasn't even certain they were allies—he had Cruz and Ana with him, and he was as home as he'd ever been.

While he ate he listened to the parts of conversation he could understand. He gathered that, after the document leak about Harmony's duplicitous plans for Carida, a special hearing had been ordered by a committee of CTASA council members. An investigation was already underway. The story had been picked up by syndicates across CTASA colonies, and protests were being coordinated in all major settlements including Great Arland. There was even talk of entire colonies boycotting Harmony products, although los jefes seemed to think that wouldn't last.

Tover got the impression that while Harmony itself wasn't hurting badly from the repercussions, it was no longer going to scuttle Carida without a fight.

At some point someone said something, and everyone laughed and stared at him. He wiped his face—did he have food on his respirator?—but then noticed one of the guests pointing at his plate.

Most of the others had only helped themselves to two, at most three tamales. In contrast a mountain of discarded banana leaves piled beside Tover's plate.

Cruz grinned. “I guess you like tamales after all.”

“Shit. Sorry, Ana,” Tover said. “They were too good to stop.”

Ana pretended to look upset, but Tover could tell she was beaming. “Don't apologize to
me
, apologize to the guards outside. You just ate their dinners.”