Personal Log 137: 28th & 29th October, 3302
10 Dec 2016Jemine Caesar
28th & 29th October, 3302 Matthew Victor Lehman was the first stranger I had met in Pegasi who'd offered me anything like a kind word, and I was grateful for it. Even so, he was still a stranger, despite the winning smile he wore so well. In the past I might have confided my whole life story to this man, as I had done before with Rudolphus, Marcus, Argent, Nathalie and, of course, Sam. But I had now come to realise that my past was my business, and no one else's.
I accepted commander Lehman's outstretched hand. "Jem," I informed him, adding, "and no offence, but it's just Jem for now."
"None taken," Lehman smiled back. "And no worries. I ain't fixin' on pryin' into your business. It was just nice to see a little bit of genuine wonder in the middle of... well, you know," he finished, indicating the assorted rough-looking patrons around the bar.
"Yes, I do," I agreed. Something about this man's easy manner relaxed me, and I found myself warming to him. Lehman was here in Pegasi, but seemed incongruous to it. As if he didn't fully belong, yet was tied to it in some unfathomable way.
"So," I continued, "what's your excuse? Are you in Pegasi because of your luck, or because you're just so dangerous?"
"Right now, I ain't a danger to anything but this drink. And as for luck?" Lehman downed the remains of his beverage. "Well, I reckon we'll be seeing how that holds up real soon, won't we? A quick drink always helps before take-off."
I smiled, though inwardly felt disappointed that this amiable stranger would soon be leaving. "You have a ship to catch?" I asked.
Lehman chuckled. "Worse. I've got one to fly. Pegasi ain't no place for a tensed-up commander."
So, my new acquaintance was not only friendly, but a pilot as well. I felt the faintest glimmer of hope. Might this stranger be able to help me in combat against Black Omega's rivals? Assuming, that is, he didn't belong to one of them himself. That was a chance I'd have to take but, knowing my luck, Lehman was probably just another T-9 trader. With a Mostly Harmless rating. And a drunk, too.
"And a drink or two makes it all better, hmm?" I said, feeling dejected once more.
Lehman's wrist computer beeped. He checked it, and then stood. "It's the part of flight school that Pilot's Fed never mentions," he said. "Pleasure meetin' you, darlin'."
I raised my glass in a sort of salute, then took a sip of the Pegasi Surprise, grimacing at its foul taste. "And you, Matt," I said. "Take care out there."
Lehman gave me one last smile before ambling out of the bar. Alone again, I watched the never-ending cycle of Black Omega propaganda bulletins on the overhead holovision for a few more minutes, then returned to the solitude of my apartment.
I lay on my bed, mulling over Marty Aston's ludicrously simplistic four-point plan. "One, you get into your ship; Two, you fly out the starport; Three, you find some rival faction ships; Four, you destroy 'em." Points one and two were easy. Point three was trickier, in that I had no idea of how to systematically go about it. And as for point four...
I buried my face in the pillow and wept. The memory of Aston's sneering voice rang in my mind; "Now's your chance to learn... You'll figure something out... Just fuckin' do it!"
I angrily fought back the tears. "I should never have become a spacer," I wailed. "It's brought me nothing but trouble!" I wandered over to the mirror and dabbed at my eyes with a tissue. "Well, Jemine Caesar," I told my reflection, "if today's the day you die, you may as well get it over with."
Changing into my flight suit, I sent off a launch permission request and then made my way to the pilot's lounge to await my alotted take-off time.
There, standing at the observation window and holding a cup of coffee, was commander Lehman. I cautiously drew a little closer. He didn't notice me, gazing instead out of the window at the ships beyond. Or, rather, at one ship in particular. It was no T-9, but rather a magnificent Fer-de-Lance. Hope surged through me once more. It was now or never.
"So much for no tensed-up commanders in Pegasi, huh?" I said, mimicking Lehman's accent and adding a heavy touch of sarcasm. I don't think the accent worked, though. Lehman whirled round to face me, surprise on his face. "You didn't seem like the kind of man who'd actually fly under the influence." I went on.
Lehman finished his coffee and tossed away the cup. "Thanks, I guess," he said, folding his arms and retaining his composure. "You never told me you were a pilot."
I stared meaningfully or at the Fer-de-Lance. "And you never told me you were a bounty hunter."
"Yeah? What makes you so sure?"
"I'm new at a lot of things in this business," I sighed, "but this isn't one of them. Nobody but bounty hunters and rich posers fly a ship like that. And," I added, coquettishly, "you're not a poser, are you?"
"Reckon I ain't," came the reply.
"Good," I said. "I need to raise my rep with Black Omega, and running data just isn't doing the trick.These people respect blood more than anything."
The look on Lehman's face told me instantly that he had caught on to what I was leading towards. He shook his head, drawing back from me. "Reapin' in Pegasi ain't like playin' cops and robbers. If you're slow, you're dead. If you ain't paying attention, you're dead. If your ship ain't up to spec, you're dead."
Lehman's patronising remarks irritated me, and I had to beat down an urge to retaliate. Instead I chose my words carefully, knowing that I simply had to get this man on my side.
"I know," I said. "Lots of ways to die out here. But like you said, the only people in Pegasi are either dangerous or unlucky." My hand rose to my throat, feeling the bulge of the choker through the neck of my flightsuit. "And I've been unlucky," I went on. "So I need you to be dangerous."
We turned to look at the Fer-de-Lance, still waiting on her pad. My heart was in my mouth as I waited for Lehman to reply.
"And getting on Black Omega's good side is the only way your luck's going to improve, I take it?" he said.
I nodded, silently gazing out of the observation window. Lehman asked me what ship I flew.
"A Viper mark four," I said, trying to sound calm. In my head I was screaming, "Please say you'll help me! Please!" Then came the answer.
"Alright," he said. "We can wing up."
"Thank you," I replied, relief washing through me in waves. Lehman took my shoulder and gently turned me to face him.
"Look," he said. "I don't know your situation. But if we're doing this, we're doing it right. Do what I do. Don't shoot until I shoot. Think you can deal?"
I gazed up at the face of my new mentor and tried my best to look like a seasoned combat pilot. "Let's go," I said.
Matt nodded. "Then get your warpaint on, darlin'," he told me. "We're headin' into Indian country, and the natives are pretty darn restless.
*****
Once aboard The Last Thing I locked onto Lehman's ship, the curiously named Inevitable Betrayal. I knew that he would have done the same, so my last name was no longer a secret from him. Over the comms, Lehman asked me to recap my combat experience. He didn't sound too impressed with the scantiness of my reply. Nevertheless he gave me a few words of encouragement, then explained what lay ahead.
He told me we would be going to one of HIP 106072's resource extraction sites, where, he assured me, we would find a considerable number of ships allied to factions opposed to Black Omega.
"So that's where we're headed?" I asked, nervously. ""A mining site? Filled with pirates?"
"Hopefully filled with pirates," Lehman corrected. "Otherwise you're just sittin' on your ass watchin' miners mine."
I was alarmed at the prospect of dropping out of supercruise and into the planetary rings, but Lehman told me everything would be all right. "If you smack into an asteroid, just ask Falcon DeLacy for your money back."
"Very funny," I said, my sarcastic tone belying the fact that I actually found Lehman's dry sense of humour somewhat calming.
A short time later found us drifting amongst the massive rocks of the extraction zone, waiting...
...and waiting. I grew impatient. "What was it you said about watching miners mine?" I moaned.
"It's the part of reaping that no one ever talks about, darlin'. Just sit tight."
Fortunately for my frayed nerves we didn't have to wait much longer. Inaction turned into action in almost the blink of an eye, and soon we were engaged in combat with a rival Cobra. Lehman's measured instructions came over my comms at a steady pace, and together we racked up our first victory.
"For the love of Gaia!" I exclaimed. "Twelve thousand credits just for that?" I was euphoric, revelling in my success.
More victories followed; an Eagle, a Vulture, an Imperial Clipper, a Python... The list grew rapidly, and I lost count of the tally. My heart was pounding in my chest, but the sheer thrill of the chase was exhilarating. Trading and data runs surely wouldn't seem the same after this.
The last few weeks in Pegasi had taught me so much. I had learned how to smuggle. I had learned how to interdict another vessel. And now I had learned how to be a – what was the word Lehman used? – a "reaper". Marty Aston's wisecrack about career development hadn't been so ridiculous after all.
And then, just when things were going so well, it all went wrong. Horrifyingly wrong. One moment I was close to notching up another victory against an Eagle, and the next I was boosting out of the ring system, fleeing from a wing of three ships intent on pummelling me with their lasers. I needed help.
"I, uh— I'm in a lot of trouble here!" I called, my panic rising as I watched my ship's hull integrity reduced to a meagre 25%.
Then, abruptly, the terrifying turmoil ceased. The Last Thing was no longer being fired upon, but neither was she in good shape. She'd lost engines, FSD, lasers, everything. I was in a slow spin. All I could do was watch the galaxy turning cartwheels around me. I was petrified, not knowing what to do. Then, over my comms, I heard the voice of Matt Lehman.
"Bad guys are all cleared out. How you holdin' up, darlin'?"
I itemised the sorry state of The Last Thing's systems. Through my cracked canopy I saw the welcome arrival of Lehman's Fer-de-Lance. I knew I wasn’t in mortal danger, for I could easily eject from the ship and be scooped up by Lehman. But to do that would mean losing all the bounty data on The Last Thing's computer, which would in turn mean I'd have nothing to show for my efforts when I reported back to Marty Aston. I'd be right back where I started.
"Ever done a field reboot?" asked Lehman.
"A what?" I'd never heard of it. Lehman undoubtedly thought I was stupid, but the short course of lessons I'd taken simply hadn't covered it. Caz – John Graham – had paid for just enough tuition to give me the basic minimum skill level required by Pilot's Federation regulations. There had been a lot missed out.
Patiently, Matt Lehman guided me through the field reboot sequence. When the moment came to activate the process, I was scared, and said so.
"I know, darlin'," came the reply. "And don't you worry none. If worse comes to worst, I've got a nice comfy seat right next to me in here."
Despite my fear, I laughed. "I suppose that's something, isn't it?" I pushed the button. The ship's thrusters kicked into action. The dizzying rotation slowed down and stopped. And then The Last Thing died.
I waited, in total darkness, for what seemed like an eternity.
Then, one by one, systems came back online, including FSD. With supercruise functionality restored I would be able to take the ship back to Smith Port with my bounty data intact.
"Oh, Gaia!" I cried. "I thought I was dead in space!"
"First time's a bit of a heart pounder, huh?"
"You can say that again," I giggled. "I haven't been this out of breath since, well..."
"Since none of my business?"
"Exactly!" I may have just come close to being blown to pieces in the cold depths of space, but I could still flirt with a handsome man.
*****
Back at Smith Port I saw the extent of the appalling damage done to The Last Thing. Repairs cost me 17,000CR, but the 120,000CR I received in bounties more than made up for it.
"Not a bad day's work, huh?" said Lehman, giving my shoulder a playful tap with his fist.
"Not bad at all!" I agreed.
"Don't sweat the repair bill, darlin'. You did great for your first time."
"Yes," I chuckled in reply. "And like a few other first times I could mention, it was short, confusing, and left me a bit wrecked!"
"Gets the heart pumping, though!" Lehman remarked.
"And," I replied, fiddling with a stray strand of hair, "gets to be pretty habit forming once you're used to it."
Suddenly Lehman drew closer. For a moment it looked as if he was going to kiss me, but instead he said, "We still talking about bounty hunting'?"
No, I thought to myself, of course we're not, and you well know it, Matthew Lehman!
I'd long ago lost count of the number of men I'd been taken by over the years before I became a spacer. Back then it had been a case of necessity, of doing what I had to do in order to survive. I'd had no choice in the matter. Sex had been a duty, a means to an end, nothing more. Love and affection hadn't entered into it at all. It was just the way it was, and I had accepted it without objection.
But Matthew Lehman was no rough, uncouth farmhand. He'd taken me under his wing, almost quite literally. He'd give me hope when all my own had vanished. He'd helped me move one enormous step closer to getting out of the hellhole that was Pegasi. If that wasn't a reason to celebrate, I didn;t know what was.
And if Matt wanted to help me celebrate, I wouldn't object.
*****
Matt suggested dinner at one of Smith Port's surprisingly lavish restaurants. He booked a table for 20.30GST, which gave me just enough time to dash back to my apartment and change into something more appropriate. The tight black leather knee-length dress and 15cm stilettos I wore clearly seemed to meet with Matt's approval. The choker and my holo-locket of Bekka completed the ensemble.
Over a delicious steak and lobster meal, Matt and I exchanged the details of our lives. That is, some of the details. I held back about my involvement with Caz and the subsequent events at our reunion on Earth. Matt, for his part, told me about his own humble beginnings as a dock technician before acquiring his first Sidewinder, which he had amusingly named Goddamn Hellbitch. Like me, Matt was almost certainly withholding certain facts about his own past and, like Matt, I didn't press for elucidation.
At one point in the conversation Matt suddenly fell silent, a strangely faraway look on his face.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Yeah," Matt replied, embarrassed. "Just, uh – just you remind me of someone I know."
So, there was a woman in this man's life. And, by the twinkle in his eyes, she was a woman with whom he shared an intimate relationship.
"Know, or knew?" I asked.
"Know, last I heard. But you know how it is out in the black."
"I do," I replied, noting the unmistakeable trace of pain and tension in Matt's voice. Whoever the woman was, her life was apparently far from humdrum.
We changed the subject, talking instead about ships and lasers.
"Ever seen the inside of the new model Lances?" asked Matt. "I'd be happy to give you a tour."
Here it comes, I thought, he wants me as much as I want him. But what I actually said was, "A friend of mine showed me the inside of hers once. Very impressive. Very out-of-my-price-range."
The puppy-dog expression of disappointment on Matt's face almost made me burst out laughing. There was a moment's pause, then, abruptly, Matt stood up.
"Well," he said, "the offer is open. How long were you planning on staying in good ol' Smith Port?"
"As long as it takes for my luck to improve," I replied, with a wry smile. "You?"
"Same," he nodded.
I raised my glass. "To our rotten luck in Pegasi," I said.
Matt returned the toast, complimented me once more on my bounty hunting success, and then turned and walked away. I blinked on surprise at having been caught on the hop like this. Was I losing my touch? Realising that an emergency manoeuvre was called for, I glanced down at my cocktail glass. I'd finished the drink, but the olive still remained, impaled on its stick. I picked up the stick and held the olive between my fingers.
"It occurs to me..." I called out to Matt's slowly retreating back. He turned to face me, and watched as I touched the olive to my lips.
"Yes?" said Matt, and in that moment I knew that he was playing precisely the same game that I was.
"It occurs to me," I continued, "that my friend's Fer-de-Lance was the older model. No telling what kind of fancy updates one like yours might have."
I, of course, had no idea whether Nathalie's Fer-de-Lance was older than Matt's. But neither did Matt, more importantly. I knew the ploy had worked when Matt returned to the table, took my hand, and led me to the Inevitable Betrayal.
*****
We had sex. Spine-tingling, heart-pumping, breath-taking, perspiration-soaked sex. And afterwards we talked.
"I really do appreciate all the help, Matt," I said, contentedly. "I mean it."
"Clearly," quipped Matt, softly poking my cheek with a wandering hand. I giggled and rolled over onto my back, pulling him with me.
"Do you think I'm here out of a sense of gratitude?" I asked.
"The thought had occurred to me."
I gave him a sharp jab in the ribs, hoping to disguise the fact that he was, at least in part, quite correct. But I wasn't about to admit it to him.
"Maybe I just like to celebrate a good day in a shitty place," I commented. That much was definitely true.
"Now that," he replied, "I can get behind."
We kissed again, and Matt's fingers sought out the contours of my body, probing down to my stomach, tracing the faint ridges of my stretch-marks. The left-overs of my pregnancy with Bekka. Tell-tale remnants of a long-dead love. A single tear moistened my cheek as the years rolled back in my mind's eye.
"So what's the part you ain't tellin' me?" Matt asked. In answer, I took his hand and pressed it more firmly against my stomach, and with my other hand I felt for my holo-locket.
"It's a different way of life where I come from," I told him. "What you have, you have. And what you lose– stays lost."
Matt made the link between my stretch-marks and the locket in an instant. "Jem, I– I'm so sorry. "He said, softly, and gently lifted the locket away from my chest. "This is all that's left, isn't it?"
"No," I replied, moving his hand to rest over my heart. "I'll always have her here." Moviing his hand once more, I touched his finger against my temple, adding, "And here."
We lay, wrapped in one another's arms in blissful peace. I closed my eyes as Matt's fingers traced figures-of-eight across my back. It reminded me of Nathalie's deft, sensuous caresses when we had made love.
My thoughts wandered back several hours to the bounty hunt at the extraction site, to my elation in victory and my fear in the face of defeat. I would certainly have a lot of stories to tell Sam when I finally got out of Pegasi again...
Sam...
I opened my eyes with a start, and sat up to gaze sadly at Matt. He had been a stranger, then an acquaintance, mentor, friend and lover in quick succession. But now, I realised, my relationship with him was threatening to develop into something more. For me, at any rate, if not for him. He has his woman, somewhere. And I have my man, waiting for me to return.
I fall in love too quickly. It's one of my many faults.
"I think I have to go," I whispered.
"Why?"
"You're not the only one here who's been reminded of someone else who loves them."
Matt blinked. "I never said she loved me," he replied.
"You never said a lot of things, Matt. And neither have I."
Matt made some mood-lightening quip, but my mood refused to be lightened. Silently, I rose and got dressed again. Matt put on his slacks, and then tenderly led me out of the Inevitable Betrayal and into the hangar deck. It was time for us to part company. I tried so very hard to say goodbye, but the words just wouldn't come out. Matt seemed to be having the same problem.
"I'm, uh – I'll be docked here awhile," he said. "Will I be seeing you again?"
I pulled him towards me for one last, long, lingering kiss. My heart felt close to breaking as I finally found words to speak.
"Perhaps you'll see me in your dreams."
Spinning on my heel, I strode across the hangar to the exit hatch and then turned back to see the forlorn figure of my only friend in Pegasi, standing at his ship's ramp. I called out to him, "You're a good man, Matthew Victor Lehman,"
Then, with tears streaming down my face, I walked out of his hangar and out of his life.
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This log is the companion to "The Apprentice", written by Matt Lehman.
A huge thank you to Matt for allowing me to lift the dialogue from his version of events, and for his support and encouragement in our collaboration.