Falling
13 Sep 2020Kodeyne
Midnight, UTC. Although what difference did that make? By definition, any starport was, like New York on ancient Earth, a city that never slept. Constant shift and flow of people, going to work, heading home, the shops and bars and cafes always there to cater for them, whatever the clock might say.So much for circadian rhythms, thought Ophelia. But none the less, there was always someplace where the endless toil had paused, even if only briefly. And so it was with the hanger of bay twenty-five, Tolkien Shipyard, Jameson Memorial. The duty manager checked her credentials and allowed her to visit the cavernous, darkened chamber. A few spotlights accentuated the gloom, and the long, tapering shape that sat, surrounded by gantries and machinery. Gaping square holes where hull plates had been removed. A new paint scheme had made it maybe a quarter of the way along the ship; rows of crates, some half-open, packaging spilling out, stood like an honour guard along the edge of the pad.
She had worked bloody hard for this. Hauling countless loads of materials to the Upaniklis system for the Golconda campaign. She had wondered if Falling Angel or she would conk out before the finish.
But they had persevered, and a careful search of shipyards, along with the temporary discount on Federal military vessels had gotten her a Core Dynamics Corvette, for nearly half the usual price. The odd message from chief tech O'Brady a few days back was a code to let her know the installation of the weapons was complete. And when everything was done - well, certain sections of the spacefaring community, those who preyed on others, would learn to be afraid...of the Big Bad Wolf...
Having gazed for long enough at the half-completed ship, she quietly made her way back to the hanger where her Asp Explorer awaited. She boarded and sat in the pilot's chair, to continue her journey back from the distant system she had met with Monfort, to Merbold Ring. Back to pick up the Python and carry on as usual for as long as usual continued. If all went well, proceedings against the despicable Morgan Estri could begin, to bring him to justice. And she would get to see her oldest and dearest friend again, for the first time in, what, two years?
The station receded behind her as she set the course to EQ Pegasi.
Two years. It was the longest time the two of them had ever been unable to meet or even communicate.
As she orientated the ship for the jump, she felt a flutter in her stomach. Would things have changed between them? Would Ali still understand the necessity of her unofficial exile?
Will you still be my friend?
What if she's not? Maybe we've grown apart, our paths diverged too much? What if she's not my friend any more?
A rising sense of panic began to creep over her. Don't be daft, she thought. Of course you'll still be friends. But what if we're not? I don't think I could deal with that...
Abruptly, she cancelled the jump into witch-space and kicked Devil's Daydream into supercruise, teeth clenched as the ship angled for the innermost planet. Plunging down, seeking a hiding place, aiming for the shadows amongst a mountain range. The Asp crunched down and her hands almost automatically set the ship for whisper-time, reducing its heat signature as much as possible.
Not even going to the galley for a shot of whisky, shedding her RemLok and cocooning herself into the duvet, shaking and mumbling.
"Ali....oh, Ali..." Fighting back tears, forcing herself to uncurl and focus on her breathing; in, hold for a moment, out. But still her fingers clawed into the mattress.
You want to be lonely. So you can feel sorry for yourself. Anyone who cares about you, you send them away. Alison. Mikael.
"NO!" she shouted to that inner dialogue, "I took Ali to safety! I let Mikael go because it was the right thing to do!"
Ah shit. I could use you here right now, Mik...
She focussed on breathing again, and pushed the negative thoughts away with memories of the night she and Mikael had spent together. The unexpected tenderness of his kisses and the gentle caresses. The way it felt when they joined. Sighing, she rolled over and slid a hand down between her legs.
Hours? Days? She did not know how much time had passed. A confused sequence of brief wakings, trying to struggle from the bed and failing as the dreams dragged her back to their diabolical realm. Eventually, a pale, weepy-eyed wraith of a woman tottered into the Asp's spartan washroom. A while later, a mug of strong black coffee brought Ophelia back from the brink, and then the ship was lifting, soaring into the star-sprinkled sky.
Almost as soon as Devil's Daydream landed at Merbold Ring, the comms unit chimed the arrival of messages. The first was from Monfort, dated two days since: "Commander. The pebble has been kicked that will start the avalanche. I will keep you informed."
She allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. Opened the second message. Read it, disbelievingly, read it again.
What the hell...?