The Refugee (The Korvali Chronicles Book 1) (22 page)

When Catherine sat down to second meal with Tom and Snow, she was somewhat surprised that Eshel hadn’t shown up yet, as he usually arrived before she did. Then she recalled that he’d been preparing for an exam, and that Eshel often skipped second meal on exam days. However, Eshel didn’t show up the following day either. Nor the day after that. She hadn’t heard from him, either. He disappeared from time to time when he had much to do, but would always surface eventually. And while it took longer than usual, he did finally make an appearance, paying her a visit after their duty shifts were over.
 

Eshel walked into her quarters, his eyes clouded. She knew something was on his mind, something likely related to what had kept him so busy. Catherine approached one of her chairs, ready to sit down and listen to whatever Eshel had to say.
 

But Eshel didn’t sit.
 

“What’s wrong?”
 

He looked at her with his sea eyes. “We can no longer have a relationship, Catherine.”

Catherine felt a chill go through her. “What do you mean?”

“Our… involvement. It must end.”

She maintained eye contact with him, waiting for clarification. But none came. “Are you angry at me?”

“No.”

“Did the brass come down on you?”

“No.”

She put her hands up in puzzlement. “Then why?”

Eshel hesitated. “There is no explanation that I can offer.”

“There is no explanation you can offer, or none you want to offer?” Eshel said nothing, his gaze appearing almost as if he looked right through her. It was the first time Eshel hadn’t responded to a direct question from her in longer than she could remember. “No matter what question I ask, I’m not going to get a satisfactory answer, am I?”

“No.”

She could find no words. Her mind was blank. She only knew that trying to coax information out of Eshel would further alienate him. Finally, she took a deep breath. “Okay.” She paused. “Can we remain friends, at least?”

“Of course.”

Softening slightly, she nodded.
 

Eshel broke eye contact with her. Then he turned and left.
 

For several days, Catherine felt a strange, hollow feeling as she worked and slept. She didn’t talk to anyone about what had happened; she didn’t know what she would say. The others wouldn’t understand what it meant for her and Eshel to be separated because they didn’t understand what it meant for them to be together. That’s how Eshel had wanted it. She hoped he’d offer her some sort of explanation for his decision. But it never came. So, now, they would be friends. That’s what they’d been before, and that’s what they’d be again.

Catherine worked late that day, with Steel’s permission. At 2130 she realized she’d missed third meal, so she grabbed a quick snack, swung by her quarters to pick up her water bottle, and headed back to her office to do some more work. She veered from her usual route to drop by the Free Box; she had an extra beach mat from Derovia that she no longer needed. After Derovia, the Free Box contained far more items, which made her smile, recalling Eshel’s fascination with it.

On her way back, she passed a couple of crewpersons and gave them a brief nod. She glanced at the time again, but as she looked up, she saw Eshel coming her way. He didn’t see her yet. Once he got closer to her, he made eye contact. She smiled, slowing her pace a bit.

Eshel nodded at her briefly, looked away, and kept walking.

Catherine stopped and turned around. She watched as Eshel’s long strides took him further and further away from her, until he was out of sight.

A couple of days later, Catherine left her lab at nearly 2230, surprised Steele had allowed her to remain so late again. As she walked to the mess to get a snack, she rather improbably saw Eshel in the hallway again, heading toward her. Catherine watched him as he approached; Eshel made brief eye contact with her, and, as before, gave a brief nod as he continued walking.
 

She halted. “Eshel.”

Eshel ceased his walk, turning to face her, his expression cold as he waited for her to speak. Catherine walked over to him and slapped his face as hard as she could.
 

Eshel’s webbed hand immediately went to his cheek as he attempted to balance himself from her unexpected assault. The expression on his face was one she’d never seen before.
 

“You don’t want to be involved with me, that’s fine,” Catherine said, her voice shaking. “But don’t you ever,
ever
nod at me again.”
 

She turned and walked away, the stinging feeling dissipating from her hand.
 

Holed up in her office, the sound of a knock made Catherine jump.
 

“Where’ve you been?” Tom asked her, looking at her with some concern.

“Working.”

“You coming to eat today?”

“No.”
 

“Come eat. It’s just me and Snow. You gotta eat sometime, right?”

She sighed. “Okay. I’ll be there shortly.”
 

When she arrived at the mess, she got herself a plate of spaghetti and joined Tom and Snow. She took a few bites; it tasted as dull as it looked.
 

“Why so mopey?” Tom chided her.

“I’m not mopey. I’m tired.”
 

“Leave her alone, dumbass,” Snow said.
 

Tom ignored him. “Oh, come on, C! You can’t be that upset over Esh. I’m telling you, it’s always weird when things don’t work out, especially on a starship where everyone knows about it, but that passes.”

She nodded, fiddling with her noodles. “I know, Tom. I’m fine.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Tom said. “Look, even Jimmy will tell you that getting involved with otherworlders is a bad idea. Eshel’s a weird guy. I don’t think he’s capable of… what we’re capable of.”

“Who asked you, man?” Snow said, giving Tom a look. “It’s not your business.”

“I know it’s not my business,” Tom said to Snow, stabbing a meatball with his fork. He looked back at Catherine. “But I know Eshel. He had a few cups of rallnofia one night and admitted he’d never do that kind of thing, that getting it on with otherworlders is one of the strongest taboos the Korvali have. And it was pretty plain that he found the entire idea disgusting.” He glanced at Snow. “It’s just the way he is and she should know that. It’s not like they were serious, anyway. See, I told you he wasn’t gay,” he added, shoveling the forkful of spaghetti and meatball into his mouth.
 

Catherine’s throat tightened and a sick feeling came over. She lowered her head, concentrating on her food, hoping the tears that welled up in her eyes would quickly go away. She ate some more spaghetti and forced herself to chew it slowly, but could barely swallow it. After slowly gathering another forkful, she managed to recover herself from what Tom had told them.
 

When she finally looked up, Tom had turned his attention to some women who walked by, but Snow’s eyes were on her. Catherine forced a smile, hoping it would convince them she wasn’t shocked at the news. Too many thoughts running through her mind, she glanced at her contactor. “I have to go. Boss is expecting me.” She stood up, walked her tray to the dish area, and slammed it down, her barely-eaten spaghetti spilling off the plate. Back at the lab, she ignored Holloway and Varan and shut her office door behind her.
 

It all made sense. Eshel unexpectedly touching her on the beach, and looking as surprised as she was that he’d done so. The hesitation that immediately followed, like he was wrestling with some part of himself that believed it was wrong. His repeated requests for secrecy, with his remarkably vague explanation for why secrecy was so important to him. Eshel had broken a fundamental edict of his own culture, had done something that not only went against his people, but against his personal beliefs. He was ashamed of what they’d done. Ashamed of her.

After her duty shift ended, she went back to her quarters and pulled up the epigenetic data she had, including the file Eshel had given her. She sat there staring at it, but made no move to begin working again. Then, something caught her eye.
 

The painting. The one Eshel had given her after their trip to Mellon.
 

She turned away, refocusing on her data, on the progress she’d made. But she could still see the piece of art hovering in her peripheral vision.
 

Finally, she stood up and walked over to the painting, loosening the mountings and removing it from the bulkhead. She left her quarters and walked fore to the nearest stairwell, climbed up one deck, and proceeded aft again. Once she arrived at the Free Box, she carefully set the piece down amongst the plentiful clothing, computer parts, and other junk. And with that, she turned and walked away.
 

November 20th
 

Hi Dad,

I finally got your messages now that we’re back in range. We just left Station 3, and it looks like we land on December 6th. Unless re-entry takes longer than they said it would, or something unexpected happens, I should be at the house by dinnertime.
 

I’m really looking forward to seeing you, Dad. I miss you a lot.
 

But, I have bad news. You won’t like it. I’m not returning to the mission when the Thirty is up. I’ll explain more when I get there.

Have a nice Thanksgiving and say hello to Aunt Cora.
 

C

Captain Ferguson’s voice rang out over the Com at 0900: in one hour,
Cornelia
would land at the Space Corps shipyards in Virginia.

Tradition dictated that all officers met in the starboard bar before leaving the ship. They would each receive one shot—typically whiskey but not always—and drink to a good Thirty. But instead of attending, Catherine grabbed her bag and headed to the exit, where Yamamoto stood with two MAs. He hadn’t yet announced that they could debark, but she’d requested to leave early. He’d approved her request so that she could elude the press, who would hound her about Eshel. But she got the feeling that wasn’t the entire reason.

Yamamoto signaled for the two MAs to step aside. “I will see you back here in thirty, Lieutenant,” he said. “That’s an order.”

Catherine nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

When she’d told Yamamoto her decision, she knew her career with the Corps would, in many ways, come to an end. Yamamoto had refused to honor her decision until Day 30 of her leave. She’d told him she was resolute, but he’d insisted. She could have ignored his order to return; once resigned from the mission, she was no longer under his command. And if it were anyone but Yamamoto, she would have.

Catherine left the hangar, crossed the tarmac, and exited the Space Corps shipyard. Being first off the ship, her scans went quickly, and they let her through once she tested negative for biological agents and illegal substances. Back in the civilian world, she walked to the train station that would take her to the airport in Washington D.C. Once seated on the train, she heard a chirp.

Her contactor. She’d forgotten to remove it. The message was from Tom, probably giving her a hard time for not showing up to the starboard bar. She ignored the message and put the contactor away. She heard another noise and sighed in annoyance. It was her phone this time—Tom again. She ignored it. But after sitting for a few minutes, she tucked the detachable earpiece into her ear and listened to her voice mail.

“Finnegan,” Tom’s loud voice began. “Hey. Listen… I just went to your quarters and all your photos are gone. What the hell is going on? I can only assume the worst, and… and I damned well refuse to.” He paused. “Look… I’m sorry if I was an asshole, alright? Snow told me… well, we can talk about that later. I’m sorry, alright? Please call me back.”

She sent him a message.
It’s okay, Tom. Let’s talk in a couple of weeks. Have a great tim
e.

At the airport, she waited in line for scanning, looking around at the other people. Couples with young children, elderly people, professionals in suits. All human. It felt like she’d been gone longer than 18 months.

Aboard the next flight to Denver, she sipped her beer and felt the weight of the ship, her duties, and the cloud of negative associations lift. The further the aircraft travelled west, the quieter it all seemed, as if she’d left the clamor of the city for the stillness of the country. She peered out the window for the entire flight, happy to have something to look at besides dark space. There were densely populated cities, rectangles of agricultural land blanketed in white snow, forests, and lakes, all glowing in the waning light of a winter’s day. She felt better than she had in a long time. Even the prospect of her father’s disapproval couldn’t dent her mood.
 

Forty-five minutes later, when Catherine exited the plane, she found herself surrounded by people, all talking to her at once. She heard familiar clicking sounds as they took photos of her, and ahead she spotted reporters with their serpent-like self-tracking cameras.
 

“Lieutenant Finnegan, did Eshel alter his own DNA to survive his escape from Korvalis?”

“Dr. Finnegan, is it true that you defended Eshel from numerous attacks on Derovia…”

“Ms. Finnegan, did Eshel end your relationship because you wanted children with him?”

Catherine, unprepared for the onslaught, focused her attention one thing: the sign with the picture of a train. She walked toward it, keeping her eyes on it as they followed her through the airport. Finally, she flashed her ID and entered the waiting area for the train, leaving the madding crowd behind her.
 

Once on the train, the sight of the Rocky Mountains to the west put her at ease. She watched Denver go by, all the urban sprawl of six million people. She saw the rise of downtown’s exceptionally tall buildings in the distance, reminding her of the place she’d lived before she accepted the mission and put most of her things in storage. The winterscape was peaceful and quiet, with its dormant trees and the ground covered in snow, leftover from a recent storm. The approaching mountains glowed under a fading sky.