Personal Log 143 - 28 November, 3302
02 Apr 2017Jemine Caesar
28 November, 3302The final jump to Sol was one of the most nerve-wracking I had ever undertaken. Not because of witchspace, for I'd long since become accustomed to seeing its swirling chaos. Whilst I had never ceased to feel awe at its beauty, travelling through it didn't terrify me as it had done once. Nor was my discomfort due to the possibility of interdiction on dropping down into normal space again. I'd been interdicted many times already and, as with witchspace, I had grown accustomed to it.
No. The reason this time was far more personal. The jump to Sol was nerve-wracking because it was there that I'd finally be reunited with Sam. I knew he'd be happy to see me again, after spending so long apart. But would he still be happy, I wondered, when I told him about how I had— now, what was the phrase I'd used again?— how I had 'celebrated a good day in a shitty place' with some bounty hunter I'd met in a bar?
The Last Thing dropped into Sol. "Well," I thought, as I set course towards Earth. "I'll find out soon enough."
In some sort of half-hearted attempt to stave off the inevitable, I completed the trip to Abe Lincoln starport at half-speed. I'd naturally called ahead to tell Sam I was on my way, so it was no surprise to see him waiting patiently for me near the hangar exit. We kissed hello, and Sam wrapped one arm around me as we walked.
"I can't wait to hear the tales of what you got up to out in Pegasi," he said, grinning. "Though knowing a bit about the outfit you've been working for, I'm sure you'll have found yourself doing a couple of things you may rather forget."
"One or two," I echoed. "But I learned a few tricks as well, so it was far from being a total waste of time."
"That sounds intriguing," remarked Sam. "I hope it doesn't mean you're considering a new career as a pirate, my love."
"Why do you say that?" I asked.
"Well, having spent over a month with Black Omega, some of their bad influences might have rubbed off on to you!"
"Perhaps they did."
Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow, but I said no more. Presently we arrived at the apartment Sam had made his temporary home. Stripping off my flightsuit, I took a shower and put on a blue T-shirt and grey cargo trousers.
"What have we here?" said Sam as I walked back into the living area. "I thought you'd have been eager to get back into a dress by now."
I smiled. "I've been wearing stuff like this every day out in Pegasi, to fit in with the locals. I've gotten used to it. One of Black Omega's 'bad influences', I suppose. Besides, trousers are far more practical than skirts in zero-g."
"Not to worry," came the reply. "You look great in whatever you wear, so that's one bad influence I'm prepared to forgive." Sam poured us both a drink. "Come on," he said. "Tell me everything!"
I had, of course, kept in almost daily contact with Sam all the time I was in Pegasi space, so all I really needed to do was elaborate on what he already knew and fill in some blanks. The only thing that had been omitted from my k-casts was any mention at all of Matt Lehman, the bounty hunter I'd met at Smith Port. But Sam wanted to hear the whole story in person, insisting that I start from the point at which I arrived in Tjakiri. He listened attentively, making the odd comment here and there. I recounted everything in as much detail as I could recall; my hesitant arrival at Clair Dock ('That must have been frightening...'); my meeting with Marty Aston ('That fucking bastard...'); the delivery jobs; the interdictions by Cherisch Cheerful and Antagonist ('Ha ha! Impressions are not your forte, my darling...'); the bounty hunt run...
"You'll have been on familiar ground there, at least," Sam remarked. "You've done some bounty hunting with me and Nathalie Hudson."
"Y-e-es," I agreed. "But there's a lot more to it than I'd ever realised. There's an art to being a bounty hunter that I simply hadn't appreciated."
"Oh, it just takes practice. Anyway, you know I would have come and helped you, Jem. You only had to ask."
"I know," I replied. "Nath made me the same offer. She even came and spent a night with me to satisfy herself that I was coping. She couldn't stay any longer, though. She's KOS with the Kumo Crew, and their people were crawling all over the place. Even so, I didn't want to drag you across there, Sam. It's a truly dangerous place, with some very ruthless people. I could never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you on my account."
"Well, hopefully we won't ever find ourselves in that sort of position again. Tell me more!"
I continued the narrative; the visit to the Exotica nightclub on Clair Dock and the second meeting with the pilot Cherisch Cheerful, now a near-naked waitress ('Poor girl...'); the failed attempt to find a crash site 200 light years away and the subsequent wrath of Marty Aston ('If I'd have been there, I'd have...'); the awful space battle in HR8210 ('You were very brave to even try...'); and the surprising manner of my departure the very next day ('A mystery indeed...'). I skimmed over the final encounter with Elian Thiessen ('Smarmy git...') and described the way in which I had attempted to exact a little revenge on Elite And Real with the help of Kyla Emmerich ('Serves the bastards right...').
I finished, having made no reference to Matt Lehman. I knew I would have to say something soon, though, because there were no secrets between Sam and me. It was just a case of summoning up the courage. But then Sam's face creased into a frown, and I was instinctively aware that the moment I'd been dreading had arrived.
"You know," he said, "you didn't explain to me how you managed to learn the art of bounty hunting. Does Black Omega run training courses?"
"No," I laughed. "Or if they do, I didn't see any."
"So how did you do it, then?"
I lowered my eyes, gearing myself up for the part of the story that I really didn't want to tell, yet had to.
"I, umm... I met a man in a bar on Smith Dock, and we made some polite small talk about ships. He was the first pleasant stranger I'd seen all the time I'd been there. His name was Matt Lehman, and it turned out he was a bounty hunter and, luckily for me, he agreed to help me out."
"Go on."
So I did.
Sam nodded appreciatively as I told him about Matt Lehman's willingness to help me, making occasional comments like before. But, as the tale progressed through the details of the near-fatal bounty hunt and the Smith Port restaurant dinner, the comments grew fewer and fewer. By the time I got to the part where Matt and I made love on his ship, the Inevitable Betrayal, Sam was no longer smiling.
"I know I shouldn't have done it, Sam," I said, after I'd finished. "But I'd just been as frightened as I've ever been in my whole life. Matt helped me to turn abject failure into a tolerable success, and it just seemed right to celebrate that. What with the dinner and the wine, one thing led to another... " I paused, silenced by guilt and self-loathing.
Sam stood and walked across the room to pick up a holocube which lay on the dinette table. The cube sprang to life at Sam's touch. It threw out an image of me, standing in front of my old Sidewinder. Sam stared at the flickering memory for a few moments, then switched it off. The silence was terrifying.
"Sam?" I whispered, hardly daring to breathe. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. "Say something. Even if it's to tell me to get the fuck out of your life!"
He turned to look at me, eyes wide. "Get the fuck out of my life?"
Tears welled up in my eyes, running down my cheeks. "All right," I replied, "I'll go, if that's what you want. I can't really blame you, can I?"
"What? No! That's not what I meant!"
"Then what...?"
"You said 'fuck'. You've never used that word before. At least, I've never heard you say it. Never. Not in conversation at least. It took me by surprise."
I smiled weakly. "Another one of Black Omega's bad influences, I suppose. So, what are you saying, then? Are we through?"
"Jemine," Sam began, softly, "I'll readily admit that living with you is sometimes not easy. In the year and a half we've known each other you've committed murder and got away with it, almost died from severe anaphylactic shock, been kidnapped and tortured, shoved into a slave pod and dumped in space after being deprived of sleep for eighty-odd hours, discovered you're illegitimate and that your mother was your sister and your grandmother is your mother, and then went clear across the bubble to find your real father."
"You forgot the rape," I said. "And being arrested on suspicion of fraud. Yes, my life's a circus."
"What? Wait a minute... you were raped? When?"
"Oh... umm... I never told you about that. Obviously. It was the middle of last January, at Minmar. I'd just been through three interdictions on the trot, and had to dock for major repairs. I was really shaken up, so I went to the bar, and this refinery worker came over and started chatting. He seemed friendly enough, but I didn't realise he'd been drugging my drinks until I woke up hours later with an enormous hangover. It was perfectly clear what had happened."
"Didn't you report it to the authorities?"
"No."
"Why not?
"I don't know! I was too ill to move for two days. Then, as soon as I felt able, I just wanted to get off the station as fast as I could."
"All right," sighed Sam. "Discounting him, and assuming there've been no other rapes you didn't get round to telling me about— "
"There hasn't— "
"— you've willingly shagged with two other people that I know of— "
"There have been only two."
"Nathalie Hudson, and now this Matt fella. Could there have been others, given the chance?"
"Yes," I admitted, sheepishly.
"I suppose it's understandable, given your past life. Before I knew you— and I'm confident that you won't mind me saying this— you were a gypsy prostitute, roaming the continent looking for sex to make ends meet. You've made love with more people than I've had hot dinners."
"What does that even mean?" I asked.
"It's just an old expression," Sam replied, with a shrug. "It means... Look, never mind. The point is, and I know this is probably going to sound completely idiotic, but... I love you, Jem. I'm infatuated with you, and I can't imagine my life without you. And if that means turning a blind eye to the occasional dalliance on your part, well, so be it. It's a price I'm willing to pay, Gaia help me. Just so long as you keep coming back to me, like you did this time."
"I love you, Sam," I said, wiping away my tears. "I won't do it again, I promise." I said.
"No, don't say that. Don't make promises you may not be able to keep. That way it won't hurt so badly the next time."
Sam picked up his jacket and slipped it on.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"You mean where are we going?" he replied, with a gentle smile. "I booked us a table at the best restaurant on the starport, in honour of your return from Pegasi. You might want to put a dress on after all."
"Oh, Sam!" I cried. "I don't deserve you!"
"Bollocks! Besides, I want to see what's next for the woman who's only just learned to say fuck!"
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OOC bit:
My sincere thanks to commander Sam Hodkin, both for his editing suggestions in this log and for being such a good sport.