The Outback Stars (51 page)

Myell spoke up. “The media can't reach us if we're on the
Aral Sea,
ma'am.”

“My point, exactly.” Nilsen tapped something on her gib. The flit sped up. “Truth be told, I have my doubts about you, Lieutenant Scott. You received excellent evaluations on the
Yangtze,
your actions during that disaster deservedly earned the MacBride Cross, and I'm told that aside from disobeying Commander Osherman's orders, you were performing well on the
Aral Sea.
But the rumors of fraternization are discouraging, you sometimes let your emotions overrule your head, and you have a tendency to jump the chain of command when things don't go your way.”

Myell protested, “It's not like that at all—”

“No.” Jodenny felt herself blush, but she held the admiral's gaze. “It's all right. It's true.”

Nilsen lifted her chin. “On the other hand, my nephew speaks quite highly of you, and by all accounts you've treated him better than any other division leader he's ever had.”

“Your nephew?” Myell asked.

The corner of Nilsen's mouth quirked. “Peter Dicensu's not the brightest sailor ever to join Team Space, but he means well. He speaks well of you too, Sergeant Myell. Commander Al-Banna says that your recent evaluations are not representative of your true performance. He also believes you were unfairly accused in the matter of AT Ford and have been cleared in regard to certain inventory irregularities. He thinks you might have a promising career, if you don't derail it with hasty choices.”

Myell said, “Choosing to get off a train isn't the same as derailing myself, ma'am.”

“I'm not much for transportation metaphors,” Nilsen said. “I also didn't get to the position I have because I followed every rule and regulation that came my way. Neither one of you should take that as advice. Merely consider it a point of information.”

The flit slid to a stop. The passenger door opened on its own, revealing a busy curb at the Waipata spaceport. Nilsen said, “Better hurry if you want to make that last birdie.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Jodenny said, and Myell echoed.

They raced through the terminal and boarded the last shuttle to the
Aral Sea
with only moments to spare. “I forgot Dicensu had an aunt,” Myell said, once they were safely in their seats.

Jodenny leaned back and let her eyes close. “Thank goodness for nepotism.”

*   *   *

Their first stop back on the ship was the Supply Flats. Al-Banna had stayed behind on Warramala to fulfill his Inspector General duties, and Captain Umbundo had elevated Lieutenant Commander Wildstein to Supply Officer for the duration of their cruise. Wildstein didn't see either pleased or displeased to see them, and she asked no questions about what had happened on Warramala. To Jodenny she said, “You. Flight Support. Commander Rokutan needs an Assistant Division Officer.”

Myell didn't like the idea of Jodenny working for Rokutan, even though whoever she slept with prior to their relationship was really none of his business. Jodenny didn't look excited, either, but off she went without a farewell glance.

“You,” Wildstein said to Myell, “are staying right here. Bartis is in the brig for aiding and abetting Chiba and someone's got to clean up this place.”

Myell gazed unhappily at the piles of work on Bartis's desk. “Yes, ma'am.”

Underway Stores was being run by Ensign Ysten, who most people believed was in over his head. The Maintenance division had been reorganized, with Lieutenant Commander Zarkesh moved over to Tower Ops because of his failure to properly supervise Quenger and Chiba. Lieutenant Anzo and several members of the Data Department had been relieved of their duties pending indictment as part of the smuggling ring, as had Commander Senga from Security.

“Always knew he was a rotten one,” Timrin said that night, at Myell's welcome-back dinner. VanAmsal was there, as well as Chang, Minnich, Kevwitch, Amador, and several others. No matter how much they asked, Myell refused to discuss what had happened while trapped in the tower with Jodenny or anything that had occurred on Warramala.

It didn't take him long to discover that Chaplain Mow was no longer onboard. As with Dr. Ng, she had been hastily transferred to Fleet on Warramala, no explanation given. Governor Ganambarr and the Aboriginal colonists in T9 had all departed, leaving him with no one he could confide in or consult. Neither the snake nor the Wirrinun had appeared since his trip among the stars, and he wasn't sure he would ever see them again. He felt an unexpected loss at that, but relief as well.

Four days after leaving Warramala the ship dropped into the Alcheringa and started downriver to Baiame. After a while people stopped asking Myell about Chiba and the smugglers. Eva sent a few imails that he refused to answer. Slipping back into normal routine wasn't as hard as he feared it would be, except that as the days and weeks dragged on he saw precious little of Jodenny. She never came to the Flats, no longer frequented the E-Deck gym, and rarely went over to the Rocks. Apparently she spent all of her time either at work, on watch, or in the Supply wardroom.

VanAmsal said, “I heard Rokutan's keeping her at arm's length. That's a boys' club over there, you know?”

“Any rumors about…” Myell tried to sound nonchalant. “Them being together?”

VanAmsal rolled her eyes. “Is that what you think of her?”

No. He didn't. But he certainly wished he were working for Jodenny again. Wildstein was relentless. She came in early, worked through lunch, and went home late. She had rigid paperwork requirements, and took great satisfaction in reprimanding Myell about something new every day.

“These evaluations should be filed by MOC code, Sergeant, not alphabetically,” she would say. Or, “Why haven't you finished the DLRs I gave you an hour ago?” A few days before they reached Baiame she asked, “Why is it, Sergeant, that you can never remember to put incoming requisitions in my middle tray, not the top one?”

He was tempted to tell her exactly where she could put those requisitions. But then Wildstein's gaze focused on the clock and she asked, “Shouldn't you be at the chief's exam?”

“No, ma'am,” Myell said. “I'm getting out of Team Space when my contract expires.”

“That's a plan.” Wildstein took the requisitions from him. “Then again, plans change. Go take that exam, Sergeant. The results won't be announced until we get to Fortune. If you pass, you might stay in. And if you get out, at least you'll have it on your record for future employers to see.”

He supposed she had a point, but he was woefully unprepared. Weeks had passed since he'd practiced any questions. Nevertheless he got RT Sorenson to cover the office and hurried up to the auditorium. Several officers were stationed at the registration desks, Jodenny among them. She looked rested and healthy, and in no way pining for him.

“Sergeant Myell.” Ensign Hultz had him sign in. “I heard you weren't taking the exam.”

Myell took a tablet gib. “Figured I'd give it a shot.”

He sat near VanAmsal, who was already hard at work. Myell concentrated on the questions and ignored Jodenny. In the second hour the exam changed to essay format, and in the third he was faced with a harder series of fill-in blanks. The auditorium was quiet but for breathing and the tap-tap-tap of gibs.

Just after noon, with his stomach growling and vision beginning to blur, Myell finished up, turned his gib in, and headed for the mess decks. As the lift doors were closing he heard Hultz call, “Hold up!” and she boarded, along with Jodenny and some officers he didn't know from the Navigation Department.

“I'm just saying,” a lieutenant said. “It wasn't my idea in the first place.”

“You can't wriggle out that easily,” one of his friends said.

Jodenny didn't participate in the conversation. She stood with her gaze on the deck indicator, expression inscrutable. As the decks continued to slide by she didn't look his way once, not even a tiny bit. The lift stopped at the mess deck to let everyone out. Myell abruptly changed his mind and headed upladder for the vending machines on the Flats.

“So how was the test, Sergeant?” Wildstein asked when he returned to the office.

“I think I passed,” he said. It was Jodenny who had failed, and he was determined to tell her so.

*   *   *

“Lieutenant Scott, I relieve you,” said Lieutenant Hamied.

“I stand relieved,” Jodenny said, and suppressed a yawn. She had qualified to stand Command Duty Officer shortly after they left Warramala, and this was the third night watch she'd pulled in a week. Someone in Scheduling obviously held a grudge. Jodenny didn't mind. The alternative was lying alone in her lonely bed, thinking about Myell, and that only led to frustration and sadness. Funny how just one month of separation could feel like ten years. In some ways it was better to stay completely away from him, to pretend he was on some other ship or planet, than to catch fleeting glimpses in the passageways. Two days earlier they'd boarded the same lift, and his nearby presence had been enough to send her spiraling back to the too-short time they'd had together on Warramala, the memory of his body pressed against hers. Not being able to reach out and touch him was a worse punishment than anything Team Space could have dreamed up.

But just two more months, she told herself. The
Aral Sea
was soon due to slide out of the Alcheringa and arrive at Baiame. Flight operations would begin almost immediately, with tower releases commencing three days hence. In a week they'd depart the last of the Seven Sisters and begin the long trek toward Fortune. Jodenny could keep her feelings at bay until then. No problem at all.

The bridge was beginning to liven up with the arrival of the morning shift. Jodenny took a three-hour nap in her cabin, then went up to the officers' gym for a few kilometers on the treadmill. A hot shower and extra sugar in her horchata made the world more manageable. She made it to Flight Support a half hour before the Alcheringa drop. Rokutan was up in Ops, going over final fuel schedules.

“Hey, Lieutenant,” said Sergeant Gordon, who was busy on the deskgib she and Jodenny shared. “How was your midwatch?”

“No problems.” Jodenny cleared off a corner chair. She'd thought the Flight Support office was small when she first saw it, but now she knew it was absolutely minuscule. She glanced out the open hatch to the row of shuttles lined up on the hangar deck. Beyond them, the Fox fighters were queued up for launch. A group of pilots were debriefing in the center of the hangar, and a sudden burst of laughter rose above the sounds of machinery.

Gordon glanced upward. “The commander left that handmail for you. And he wants to know how you're doing on the safety manual.”

Jodenny picked up the pile. Rokutan had welcomed her to the division warmly enough, but all she'd done for a month was sort mail, take attendance at morning quarters, and update the division safety manuals. “You've got to work up to it,” he'd said when she expressed a desire to do more. Because he seemed to be happily dating a lieutenant from Admin, she didn't think he was holding their casual encounter against her. “He's defending his turf,” Vu had said, which was silly. She didn't expect to make Division Officer again for a long time, whether it be on the
Aral Sea
or
Alaska
or any other freighter. She was no threat to his career.

Just after noon, the ship dropped out of the Alcheringa. The Flight Deck above them began launching robot recons to inspect the towers, soon to be followed by the foxes. Jodenny was more interested in the datastreams coming in from Baiame—local news and entertainment, along with any imail left for them by the last freighter to pass through. The news feeds seemed unusually skimpy, however.

“Maybe not so much has happened lately,” Gordon said.

Someone knocked. “Sergeant Gordon,” a voice said, and Jodenny snapped her head up to see Myell standing in the hatchway. Myell continued. “Could you excuse us for a moment? The lieutenant and I need to talk.”

Gordon blinked. “Sure thing.”

When she was gone Myell deliberately closed the hatch, leaving just the two of them alone.

“Are you crazy?” Jodenny asked.

Myell gazed at her steadily. “Nowhere in ship's regulations does it say that a lieutenant and a sergeant can't have a private conversation behind closed doors.”

She rose. “You don't think people are watching us?”

He advanced on her, his eyes dark and mouth grim. “We said we would keep this professional for three months. That doesn't mean ignoring me in public. It doesn't mean not even saying ‘Good morning, Sergeant,' or ‘How are you, Sergeant?' in a lift.”

Jodenny flushed. “Ensign Hultz spoke to you.”

Myell took her by the arms, and the nearness of him nearly made her dizzy. “Ensign Hultz isn't the woman I love.”

She would have answered but his mouth covered hers, and suddenly everything that she thought mattered fell away under his demanding kiss. Jodenny arched up against him, wanting him to touch her everywhere, eager to guide his hands under her uniform and around her hips. He groaned a little, and nuzzled the side of her neck.

“I'm sorry,” Jodenny whispered. “I shouldn't have ignored you.”

“You never will again,” he vowed, and tightened his hold.

Which was exactly when the General Quarters began to shriek.

*   *   *

For a moment all Jodenny could think was,
Another goddamn drill.
Of all the inopportune timing … but then something made an enormous whump on the deck above them, and fire alarms began to shriek along with the General Quarters. She froze in Myell's arms.

“What the hell was that?” Myell asked, gazing at the overhead.

Holland spoke up. “Lieutenant, a General Quarters alarm has been triggered by Flight Operations. There has been a subsequent explosion in the hangar outside your position. I highly advise against evacuating at this time.”