Monday, March 18th, 20XX
5:47. Jacques Delende lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. What the fuck do I do? he thought. He hadn't had the chance to speak with Commander Jensen last night—I shouldn't have left so quickly!—but he figured, he knew that she still believed in Kay, and all that bullshit. Eleven days. Ten now. Do I report them somewhere? Just ignore them, wait it out, pretend I'm not involved? Who'd believe that, if I don't do something now? He had to talk to Jensen, and Lieutenant Pérez. No matter how noble Kay's intentions might be, they had to realize this kind of chaos was only going to get people hurt. Pérez gets it, he thought. Gotta talk to him; he'll be able to convince the Commander. The Lieutenant was a rule-follower and a good person; a rare combination, and that was just the kind of common sense approach they needed right now.
6:28. Oh shit, I'm back on rovers today! On Friday he'd been late from lunch, and gotten stuck on Kay's rover, with Fred and the geologist guy. Jacques jumped up out of bed and readied himself for the day. Last night he'd thrown away Jensen's cheerleader costume; it sat on the top of his bathroom wastebasket.
Dressed and washed up, he hurried down the hall towards the mess, checked his holoband: 7:12. Rover duty started at 9, but he'd need to get there by 8:30 to have his pick of the litter. Breathe, Jacques. Be quick, but you've got time. At least today he wouldn't have to eat with all the Poetry Club people.
He saw them, sitting there in the mess hall. Suarez, and Carson, and Livvy and Porter and Ellison. He kept his head down, got a breakfast tray and loaded up. On his way out towards the ICC (there was a break-room there) someone called out to him: "Ho, Delende! No skirt today?" He looked back; it was Dan Sacrimoni, sitting with that C&E guy Gelman and some of his other friends. Jacques recognized one of the other guys, an Ensign, from their bunking block.
He sighed relief. And I was thinking of inviting him to poetry! Now he could talk to someone who wasn't fucking cooked. He set down his tray at their table. "Alright, Dan," he said. "Maybe next week you'll try your luck racing against the Commander."
Dan raised his hands. "Hell no."
"What," said Gelman, "you 'fraid you'll lose a race against some girl?"
They all laughed together. Jacques knew as well as anyone that Jensen wasn't 'just a girl'.
Jacques wolfed down his omelet and bacon strips. Another Ensign turned to Dan, and asked: "You on one of the shuttles today, Sac?"
Dan shook his head. "Nah, they threw me on the Extraction rovers. It's so fuckin' gay; might as well be a trucker back on Earth."
Jacques gulped down a glass of orange juice, wiped his mouth and snorted. "Pays better, at least."
"Oh, let's not even talk about that," said Gelman. "I don't wanna know how much you N&S bluebacks are making."
"Just gotta get some tunes goin', Danny," said the only other Ensign Jacques recognized; a man with straight, soft-looking blonde hair (his name's… Connor something? Stanton?). "Rovers ain't shit but free time; nice easy drive. Extraction guys'll appreciate the classics." And he bobbed his head, chanting the opening lines to 'N.Y. State of Mind' by Nas, unabridged.
Dan glanced at Jacques, shrugged, and snorted. "Maybe. Lotta old white dudes in extraction. Probably want me to play rock 'n roll, 'Free Bird' or some shit."
Another Ensign shook his head. "Boomer slop. If I'm on aux, we're hypemaxxing." He ate a sticky slice of pancake. "How'bout you? Delende, right? Whaddayou listen to?"
Jacques scoffed. "Man, I'm Canadian. My rover's probably gonna be bumpin' Drake." All the other guys laughed heartily.
Dan shook his shoulder. "He's just humble. I've seen your Wrapped, Delende, you're cultured enough. Kdot, Ye (before he went nuts), even a little bit of… Eminem…" He grinned.
"Hah!" said the blonde guy, Stanton. "Eh, he's got some classics too. 'Rap God' was my shit in middle school."
Jacques ate in silence as the conversation continued without him. They like me, he thought.
"Jacques," said Sacrimoni; the words shook Jacques out of his thoughts. "Yo! Is Ellison on rovers too? What've you guys been up to; she told me you had some kinda meeting last night."
Jacques flapped his hand dismissively. "Some B.S. for the Commander," he said. "It's over now; all the stupid hazing shit."
"How you always network so well, Jacques?" asked Dan. "Trev, you shoulda seen him in boot camp. Always cold and mopey like this, and still lucks into bein' friends with everyone."
"Maybe someone likes him," said Trevor. He glanced over at the table where Lt. Carson and the others were sitting.
Jacques shook his head. "Everyone's just too nice. On some 'affirmative action' shit."
"Heh!" said Dan. "So fuckin' based. You're smart Jacques, play them cards. Whether the Commander likes you or just likes you, I'm guessin' you'll be off rovers pretty soon."
Rovers. Jacques' wrist flew up towards his face. 8:35. Rovers! "Aw fuck, I gotta get to the ICC! SRs go out at 9!" He jumped up and hurried over to the dish room to drop off his empties.
Dan Sacrimoni called after him: "Hah! You're gonna get stuck with that scientist chick you hate!" Then Jacques was out the door.
***
"Alright, Admiral Branford. The shuttles are ready."
"Good," said Branford. "Let's have a look."
James Branford ordered his computer assistant, Hera, to open the blinds of his office's panoramic window. There, he and Kayleigh Johannessen watched a trio of Cheetahs—OCM Hyperlight Interstellar Scouting Vessel™s—screech out from the ICH, followed by a fleet of chunkier transport shuttles.
"Should we do the—"
Branford raised a hand. "Hush, Lee. Just watch." She joined him standing at the window, watching reverently. "OCM made all of this," he murmured. "Look at it. Isn't it majestice? What's we've built here?"
"Yes, sir, it's very impre—" She stiffened, then tried not to.
Branford wrapped his arm around her waist. "Day One," he said. "The real day one, where we make history! Smile, Kayleigh. This isn't just about space exploration, or even the shareholders. This is Legacy." His eyes sparkled.
***
Fuck! thought Jacques. It was 8:51, and he was just now reaching the ICC. He didn't even have to look, or hear the voices, but he did: Kay Farris whispering loudly. "—t even just that, or the—" she whispered. She was speaking to Fred Wilson, and they were the only two people in the rover bay. And there was only one rover left. Jacques walked right past them to the ramp without a word and, mercifully, they didn't say anything to him either. Fred and Kay climbed aboard behind him.
In the rover's lab was a fourth man: older, with straight and thinning gray hair, in an E&R uniform. He smiled at Jacques and offered his hand, saying: "Ah, our pilot. I'm Verne Wolstein; Doctor Wolstein, Ecology. Dr. Farris has told me a lot about you. Think you can find us a place to study food chain interactions, Ensign?"
"Delende," he said, as he shook the hand. "Jacques Delende. Uh… sure, yeah, I've got a spot marked where the sa—the Kepharines feed. Sit tight; it'll be an hour or two."
"Oh, no rush!" said Wolstein. "We'll be there awhile, I'm afraid. I've brought lunches for all four of us. You like shaved steak panini, roasted reds, garlic aioli with provolone?"
"I—yeah," said Jacques, surprised.
"Makayla said you would." Wolstein winked. "Got kombucha for us too, for that bitter-sweet kick to cut through the grease. And don't worry, the hot plates here are new; won't transmit Kepharon microbes when we heat 'em up."
Jacques took his pilot's seat. Not bad, he thought. She's trying to win me over? That won't work, but I'll take it. Maybe today won't be so bad after all…
He mapped a course to the same surface cluster of thrascite crystals as before, and started up the rover. The last to roll out.
***
Commander Cori Jensen zipped across the surface of Kepharon on an S-H-3 hoverspeeder. Gotta work on one of these for myself, she thought, maybe Choi can help me out. She had a lot of respect for the guy.
Joining her on an escort speeder was some new Ensign, girl named Freida Morrison. Young kid, fresh outta training. Still quiet and respectful, good. Today they had a serious job to do. Cori's holoband buzzed and she opened starcomm. Someone was talking, but she couldn't make out the words. "Stanton!" she barked. "Turn that music down!"
He did. "Sorry Commander," said Ensign Stanton. "Supervisor Davis wants to know how things look out there!"
Cori checked her craft's forward scanner. "We're fine. Still thirty minutes to the site; we're swinging wide around that cliff up ahead."
"Thirty, roger that. I'll tell him. Thanks Commander. Over and out."
Cori glanced back at the hulking Extraction rovers. She'd put Lt. Carson in the rear one as her second, but Davis was effectively in charge of the outing. And if he was already being this annoying… long day ahead of us, she thought with a sigh. Someday these morons will figure out how to trust me with 'men's work'. Ugh, at least they won't have anything to bitch to me about when we're stopped. She swung left to Ensign Morrison's side, and spoke with the help of her helmet's speaker: "Morrison! How're you doin', kid?"
"Oh," said Morrison. "Scanner looks good. What'd the rovers say?"
"Oh, we're fine. I mean what do you—" Cori's holoband buzzed again, she grunted. "One second…" She dipped away.
Carson came through on the starcomm. "Commander," he said. "You hear from Pérez yet?"
"No, Carson. Let him focus on his shit, we've got ours. Dacuma ain't doin' much today if the L-T needs an ear to bend."
"Commander… we're doing it, right? Our job, I mean… at the site, we're gonna…"
"We'll have plenty of time to reminisce about the day's work at dinner, Carson," she said. "And… maybe Wednesday. Social time. You good?"
"…yeah. Thanks. Over and out."
So this's gonna be the day, she thought. The usual bullcrap from the orange boys, and if Carson's worried by Choi's words last night, I can only imagine the bug Manny's got up his ass. Why'd he have to say 'illegal'… what are they doin', anyway? I should talk to Delende—where was he this mornin'? Dr. Farris musta told him somethin'…
***
Jacques planned a course around the cliff by the crystal outcropping, so he could drive right up close, and his Precious Cargo wouldn't have to risk a crossing with the scope-ladder. And so he could stay inside, and just watch what they were doing, without having to go out and talk to them. He never doubted Kay's ability to 'read the room'—as the rover approached, they sent Wolstein up to speak with him. "Ensign Delende," said the Doctor, "Is this the spot?"
"Yep," said Jacques, "we're just about there. You'll see the crystals over the ridge any second now."
"Excellent. Stay in here if you like; your sandwich, drink, and a nice bowl of grapes are in the mini fridge in the back." He saluted Jacques and went back into the lab.
He's a nice guy, no matter how Kay's got him on a chessboard, thought Jacques. Just by doin' the little things. Her standards are fuckin' nuts—John Brown? Hah!You don't win people over by being some extremist idiot… she clearly knows that, how coy she's playin' it. I didn't have all the intel last night; now I do! We'll see what people think when the whole truth comes out…
He brought the rover to a halt near the rim of the ridge; the vine-covered crystals were in view. He was surprised to hear more bootsteps coming up into the cockpit; Jacques turned, expecting to see Wolstein again. It was Kay; he frowned and gestured out at the field of crystals. "See," he said. "Still there, no big crisis for you to go crazy over."
Kay frowned right back. "I marked these for research. Last on the Extraction docket, not exempt. Cold days in December got you thinkin' global warming's a hoax?"
"Alright, fuck off," he said. "Whatchu want from me?"
Kay sat next to him. "You doin' okay?" she asked.
"Wha—if I wasn't, it would be because of you!" he said, voice low. "Did you, or Kevin or anyone actually tell the people in Poetry Club what you're planning? I mean, what exactly—"
"Jacques," she said. "I, um, Dr. Wolstein isn't my only friend in Ecology. There's this woman Nita, and we were putting together—"
"What do I care about ecology? Kay, whatever you're trying to do, you gotta put a stop to it! People's gonna get hurt… don't you even—"
"Jacques!" she said. "Listen, alright? In the Bio department, we put together a theory about the Kepharines. For one… they can photosynthesize from starlight! They're not just autotrophs or heterotrophs… they're both! But that's not even the worse part; those little tentacle legs they got, they're strong, sorta 'slow twitch' strong, for endurance. We think they're territorial; got feeding routes, through several areas of plant growth. And yeah, locomotion takes alotta energy; so of course they need two food sources. But what do they get outta the vines, the leaves? Just hydration? That wouldn't line up…"
"I don't… Kay, what happened to your fuckin' revolution, huh? Now you're getting' all worked up about some Grand Ecological Discovery, as if you aren't lookin' to throw a wrench in all of this."
"Jacques, just…" Kay held her head, as though it was aching. "Just come down with us, okay?"
"Huh? Wolstein in there just said I could stay put! Whatchu need a pilot for?"
"Please, Jacques…" She looked up suddenly. "If… if you join us for a while, just hang out and help with our discoveries, I promise I'll stop bothering you!" Kay blurted. She grabbed his hand and met his eyes, sincerity shining from her own. "I'm serious. I'll leave you alone, and if you wanna tell all your N&S friends about what we're up to, you can do that too. Just humor me, okay?"
Jacques narrowed his eyes at her. This doesn't seem fake, he thought. And that's the problem! She's too good at lying; something's off. She's not gonna… kill me out here, is she? Wolstein had been awful nice today, and so was she, right this moment. Sincere, pleading, almost sweet in a way he'd never seen before—no sickening crocodile smile. "Okay," he said. "I'll come. Just need a minute to ready up."
Kay smiled, nodded and went into the back. Jacques turned on his suit's tracking beacon, then sent one text message to Commander Jensen. I don't know how far she'd go for her little crusade, he thought. She might've totally cracked, and Fred's in on it. Killing me in here would be less convenient, but if that's what she's planning, she'd do it. Gotta play along. He stretched and slipped a flare gun into an outer pocket along the side of his stomach.
The other three were all readied up in the back, waiting for him. Kay led the way out; she seemed to be in a rush. Jacques lagged behind, eyeing the other three warily.
Fred Wilson slowed and turned back to Jacques; the Ensign flinched. Fred was smiling. "It's a beautiful day today," he mused. "I know you're worried, bokk, but you gotta enjoy the good times too. Otherwise what's the point? We ain't just fightin' to keep survivin'—nobody's gonna get all the days. Sometimes all we can do is see the most in the ones we've got."
"You're in a good mood." Jacques nodded up ahead. "You fuck'er last night?"
Fred grunted and carried on ahead. The big man stopped suddenly. Jacques crested the ridge and saw just what the man himself did: several Kepharines lying on the dirt in the area around the crystal outcrop. Their green skin was tinted a yellowy-gray, and some of them weren't moving. Fred joined Kay and Wolstein running towards one.
When Jacques caught up, Wolstein was kneeling over the creature and examining its eyes. This one was alive, but weakened. Its mouth hung open. "Yep," said the Doctor glumly. "Malnutrition. Suppose this proves your theories right, Dr. Farris. The plants turn radiation from the crystals into organic energy, and these guys need that energy to balance their diets."
"But what about…" said Jacques, "how does this change… the math?"
"I estimated high," said Kay. "Might still be good on Ten—"
Fred cried out: "Shit, it's Sweetie!" and ran over to another fallen Kepharine. Jacques could believe this was the same one they'd seen Friday, but he didn't recognize the creature itself. They all looked about the same to him.
Wolstein looked between Jacques and Kay curiously. "'Ten'? Doctor Farris, what—"
"WUAH!" Fred cried out in some kind of desperate agony. Jacques looked back over his way; Fred had lifted up that Kepharine he'd identified as 'Sweetie'—its face was decaying.
Kay sighed. "Ten days, Doctor. In ten days, give or take, they'll all be dead. From the mining."
"But—" Wolstein dropped his holotab; its glowing form dissipated before it hit the ground. "They said the mining was to begin this morning! I have explicit, contractual confirmation that OCM, that James Br—"
"OCM lied," said Kay. Shoulders drooping, she walked over towards Fred.
Wolstein grabbed Jacques by the arm. "Delende! She can't be serious… what are you—"
"If Kay Farris is one thing," Jacques said with a hollow smirk, "she's serious." He shambled over towards the others.
Fred was sobbing loudly. Kay rested her hand on his shoulder. Jacques just watched.
"They," Fred whimpered. "How can they…"
Kay knelt down beside him and pinched the Kepharine's corpse. "We'll bring some with us. It's a cycle: the Thrascephemium crystals, they get power from the soil… from the Kepharines. OCM'll want renewable power, so they'll have to take some."
Fred looked up at her, his eyes streaming tears. "And you TRUST them?" he squeaked.
"…No. C'mon, let's bury him."
Fred struggled to his feet. "For what!? Keep this 'cycle' goin' for the next ten fuckin' days, chairs on the got-damn Titanic!?"
"For us, Fred. You, me—" She nodded at Jacques. "—this dipshit. And Sweetie. The animals that died, and the ones that might get to live, so long as they're useful."
Fred shook his head.
Kay pointed out towards the ridge, looked at Jacques and the approaching Dr. Wolstein. "Gather stones," she said. "We're gonna bury all the dead ones, see if we can't feed the rest."
There was a titanium shovel in their rover; Fred and Jacques dug twenty-seven little graves. Each one was occupied with a Kepharine and marked with a stone, save Sweetie's. Kay directed them to build a little ring of stones on its resting place, like a fire-pit, or a crown. The final stone was a round, flat one, the kind that's suitable for skimming on a lake. Kay held this large stone in her hand and withdrew a little pen-shaped laser cutter, set it low, for etching, and began to write. She scorched ashen letters into this stone, then crouched and added it to the ring. Fred said a prayer.
Jacques pointed at the flat stone, the word etched upon it. He whispered to Dr. Wolstein. "What's it mean?"
"It's… from some old kid's book," said the man. His voice was raspy. "Maybe if we find a third world, then we'll care."
Kay looked back. "And what usually happens to 'third worlds'? There's still time for these two, Verne. Just might have to rethink some things."
Fred charged past her towards the rover. Jacques ducked out of his way; Fred was still crying, but he looked furious. Kay rushed after him. "Fred!" she cried. "What're you—"
He spun and glared at her. "Ten days… and you ain't even sure!? I'm not gonna just sit around while they crack this motherfucker open, waiting for the right time, just HOLDIN' ON until the opportunity falls into my lap! We have to try NOW!" he roared.
Jacques and Wolstein followed slowly after them, both dazed.
"Fred," she cried, "we need time to plan, to coordinate!" She grabbed his arm and dug her feet in, slowing—but not stopping—his march back towards the rover. "Listen! This is good, just… use it! The more you pack your anger down, the stronger it'll be when you need it! We've gotta be smart about this!"
Fred turned again, and now his rage had melted into sorrow. "How long, Kayla? You expect me to just sit around smilin'? Do my job, and play like I don't give a shit? I—" His voice caught. "I'm not as tough as you…"
She gripped his hands tightly in hers. Breathed heavily. "We at least need some time," she said. "But you're right. I don't know for sure if we even have ten days, and might not know for sure until it's too late. But they're dying now…" She looked up into Fred's eyes; Jacques could see the fury in hers. "Fred. Tomorrow."
Fred gaped at her—it was like a gong had been rung in his head—he was shaken, speechless. He sighed and shuffled up the boarding ramp.
"C'mon you two," Kay said to Jacques and Wolstein. "Let's load up as many specimens as we can. We'll need to uproot vines as well, and find some shards of crystal." Dr. Wolstein hurried up the ramp into the lab, where crates and cages were kept. "We'll have a… a party tonight, or somethin'," she continued, holding her head. "Get everyone together, tell them everything. Somehow, we'll…"
"Sheesh," said Jacques. He laughed nervously and thumbed at the rover. "What a crashout. Didn't think that big doofus could even be that scary, heh." He smirked.
Kay glared back. "Jacques," she said, "SHUT-THE-FUCK UP."
She stormed past him towards the crystal fields, the surviving creatures. Jacques bit his lip.
***
Another text message buzzed on Cori's holoband. Stupid fuckin… She set the device to 'Do Not Disturb'. She stood leaning against her SH3, with Ensign Morrison doing the same to her right. They both watched the Extraction people working: in jackhammer-wielding mechassists or wheeled vehicles with giant drills on the nose. A man climbed out of the diagonal-descending hole one of these drills had bored, and walked up to her. "Commander!" he said. "N&S wants maps, right? Think we found a whole cave system down here."
Cori sighed. The rover pilots were all enjoying downtime, and she, the escort, was stuck doing all the dirty work. She considered calling down Carson, or one of those idiot Ensigns, but sighed. Plenty'a time to delegate. "C'mon, Morrison," she said. "Let's explore."
Both women followed the miner down into the hole. There were plenty of bright blue lights on thick cords lining the walls, so visibility wasn't yet an issue.
Morrison drew closer as they walked. "Hey Commander Jensen," she whispered. "You know Ensign Bly, right?"
"Huh? Oh, sure," said Cori. "Think he's on the shuttles today…why, what's up?"
"Umm, he's cute, right?"
Cori stared at her. "Pfff, hah! Not sure I'm the one to be askin' 'bout that, kid…"
"Boss!" cried a frightened voice below. Cori rushed down towards it. They reached a very leafy cavern; the Extraction guy who'd led them was running too. An Extraction Manager by the name of Johnston was down there, holding a pick-ax and watching the purple-glowing gloom, with several of his men.
By his peripheral vision, Johnston noticed her approach. "Commander!" he said. "You, uh… got a gun or anythin'?"
"Fraid not," she shouted. "What you seein'?"
"Not sure. Got one'a my boys spooked, though."
Ensign Morrison turned her frost-blue flashlight on and pointed it towards the darkness. "Y'think there's… somethingelse out here?" she murmured.
"There!" shouted one of the miners. Out of the dark charged a Kepharine; it zipped between Johnston and another C&E guy, then into the foliage behind them.
"All clear, just Kepharines," said Cori. She sighed.
"We sure there's not somethin' bigger?" asked a red-haired miner. "How'd we know these things are top of the food chain?"
Cori frowned. "I'd reckon we are."
"Commander," said Morrison, "are we sure they're not dangerous? You see what happened during that livestream OCM did, with Shaea?"
"Hmm," said Commander Jensen. "No. They ain't so bad until we—"
Another Kepharine darted out from beneath a vine-coated crystal and Manager Johnston, startled, swung his pick at the creature. The dodge was narrow, but the creature fled unharmed.
Cori slowly removed her hand from her satchel pocket, the one that held her yellow-lensed… device.
"Quick little buggers, ain't they?" said Johnston. He scratched the back of his insulated neck. "Alright fellas, N&S says they're more afraid of us than the reverse, and that looks to be about right. Back to work!"
On the way back up to the surface, Cori Jensen received many more text messages, and no less than two starcomm calls: one from Pérez, which was fine—he could read her well enough to keep it brief—and a long, meandering diatribe from Foreman Wayne Bradley, who was 'just checking in'. Fuckin' thing, she thought, once she'd finally escaped to blissful silence. And fuckin' C&E! Buncha no-good morons who couldn't mine the dingleberries outta their asses without callin' to ask if that's Compliant with N&S! Her footsteps crunched angrily. Eh, she thought. They ain't all bad. Extraction's the problem. Maintenance's got plenty of fine people, like that Wilson there. She'd had a very pleasant conversation with the other fellow Falworth the night prior; he was brash and sarcastic, but he seemed to 'get it' better than most. But this'll be my night, she thought. No Dacuma, no calls, no meetings, no goddamn fake smilin', just sweet sweet R&R. She wouldn't haveto do anything. She set her jaw thoughtfully. Although…
***
In the Software Department of E&R, Livvy McNally was laying groundwork. Even here, on the OCM-monitored internal networks and holotabs, there was much to do. And only ten days left to do it! She wasn't meant to speak with Farrah Hamadani—to avoid her, wherever possible (while appearing like she wasn't avoiding her, just not interested in talking like two random coworkers); still Livvy spared the occasional covert glance. Farrah always seemed so confident; like it was easy, what they were up to. For her part, Livvy got plenty done, and probably looked normal enough, but she had difficulty calming her inner voice. And went through lots of deodorant.
On her lunch break, and after work ended at 4P.M., Livvy spent her time laying more serious groundwork on her personal tablet back in her suite. That should've been even easier, in digital privacy—without the Eye of Sauron ever upon her—but this was… here. Kayla hadn't spent enough time cleaning after last night; smells lingered. And Livvy couldn't help glancing at the chair opposite her on the kitchen counter. Where he'd been sitting yesterday. Fucking smug transphobic dickhead!
Nothing had changed with the indoor turrets, far as she could tell. She prodded and created 'footholds' where she could in the back-end, where (hopefully—no, surely) what she was doing wouldn't attract attention. Farrah's already made a bunch of introductions with the other devs; the idiots who might sniff out our work. How does she just do that? Gotta be more like her.
***
Monday afternoon passed slowly in Maintenance; it made Dani think of Randy's weirdo poem. 'Too long to bear, and too short to remember.'Heh, she thought. Yeah, that's about right. The space-ships and rovers would need tune-ups, but they wouldn't be back until after closing time. That was night crew's problem, or tomorrow's problem.
Speaking of tomorrow's problems, Dani was still worried about what Kevin Choi had said the night before. No more meetings 'til Wednesday, she thought. Maybe I can just forget until then?
So she'd spent the day sitting around, and tinkering like she normally did. Was just something to keep her hands busy. Mike was doing some plumbing shit in the Dining Hall, Fred was out on one of the rovers. Randy wasn't really one for conversation, least not the way she liked it. Dani bothered him anyway, more than once. She had a quick call to fix some Companionship guy's bathroom light. Fred had been pretty adamant that all of Companionship was 'the worst,' or something like that, and Dani saw no reason to argue it. They were too clean, too… corporate. Bitches, she thought. But it's whatever. This man paid a little tip for her work, which she didn't mind. Maintenance didn't get 'commissions'.
Then the clock struck 4:45PM, and her Manager, Chris Muccacio, sent them all packing with a smile. Mike was back now, and he leaned over Dani's desk in the supply depot. "See ya at dinner, sour-hog?" he asked.
"Sure, you wrinkly old fuck," said Dani. "We still gotta ask Fred about his 'escapades' last night."
Mike grinned cheekily. "Of course! Where else are us losers gonna get our kicks?" He waved; she flipped him off as he left.
You're a fuckin' loser… I'm hot shit! she thought. After a quick shower, dinner, and a long conversation of Mike prodding Fred about what a wonderful night he'd had (with the gorgeous lady Mike knew she'd been sweet on), then at last she could kick back and enjoy glorious isolation. She'd brought a six pack of tall boys in her luggage; still had four left. Between that, pilfered desserts from the dining hall, and some shitty TV, she'd be living like a queen. Maybe I can stick to just one beer tonight. She shut off her lights, locked the supply-room, and trundled down the hall. Eh… on a boring, shitty day like this one… why not two?
***
Kevin Choi ate dinner quickly, spreading the word to the Poetry Club members in person as he could. He'd received Kayla's message, a bad one: Party tonight. Code for an Emergency which required all eyes; one of the Other Three would have to show up too. He hoped that little deepfake camera trick worked as well as Livvy had described it. Ensign Tammy Ellison was in the Dining Hall when he was; he told her to spread the word. A Party. Shit! What's happening? It wasn't like Kayla to swerve so suddenly.
He stopped by their suite—Livvy must've gotten the message too, as she'd already been in and out—then made a casual-seeming beeline for room 168B. In his hands there was a large plastanium box, one of the ones C&E used for bulk parts storage. Beverages. Alcohol wasn't exactly contraband, but this much? At least tonight they had an excuse: the Destiny crew'sfirst full day of work—by OCM's definition of the word. This is why I insisted on including champagne, he thought. The ladies' tastes tended… harder.
There was already a small collection of people in their meeting room, at 6:35P.M. when he showed up: Kayla, Jacques, Fred, an older man from Biology whom Kevin didn't recognize, as well as many from N&S, including Raif Carson. And so far only one more from C&E: Randy Porter, who was speaking to Kayla one-on-one. Kevin narrowed his eyes and made for Raif, asked the man: "Lieutenant. Where's Commander Jensen?"
Raif rubbed his head. "Shit Choi," he said, "I might've asked you the same question. Dr. Farris just sent Pérez out towards her quarters; seems like she hasn't been answering messages since shift's end, not from anyone."
Another C&E guy came in: Mike, Fred's friend, who hesitated at the doorway with a concerned expression on his face. He made for that same man, and called out: "Freddie! Where'd Dani get off to?"
Fred stood and shrugged. "Ain't seen'er since yesterday. What's up?"
"She wasn't at the cafe for dinner like she promised, thought she was with you," said Mike. "And now she ain't answerin' her smart-watch."
Fred Wilson knit his brow.
***
On a nightstand in her Commander's quarters, Cori Jensen's holoband buzzed with unread messages.
At 5:28P.M. in her own room, Daniella Suarez was just out the shower, freshly dressed, and scrolling social media when she heard her doorchime ring. She opened the door and once it slid away, there outside was Commander Jensen, arms clasped behind her back, wearing (for the first time Dani had seen) her indoor uniform: a lighter jumpsuit, deep blue and black and gold-trimmed, without oxygen tanks or lines, or insulation; mostly just cloth. And it was tailored kinda slender, in places. Dani just gawked.
"Suarez," said the Commander, marching in, clapping and rubbing her hands together. She'd done something different with her burgundy hair: it was combed to one side, with only one long point drooping over the left side of her brow. And she seemed to be wearing the slightest touch of violet eyeliner. "I was wondering, last night, what made you step up to help Doctor Farris back to her room? Don't you know she's got the hots for your buddy Wilson, and vice versa?" She walked past Dani and stopped by the back of a chair, facing away.
Dani crossed her arms over her pounding heart. "What, y'think I'm gay for her or something?" She looked up. "W-w-well… yeah."
Jensen stretched her arms back, held her chin to crack her neck, unbuttoned just the top-most button of her uniform's diagonal flap. Then she started on both sets of cuff-links, and rolling up the sleeves. "Welp," she said, "you know that's not the only question I'm gonna need a 'yes' to." She had thick forearms, and… her suit was tightest… in the back.
Still shocked—frozen otherwise—Dani reached right and pressed a button on the wall. Her room's front door slid shut. At no point throughout the night did she pay any further attention to her holoband.
***
"This is fucked, Makayla!" Kevin shouted.
Livvy didn't often see him shout. Of course, it wasn't typically this warranted. Livvy'd always been the one to argue in favor of throwing caution to the wind, but… tomorrow?
Kayla Farris eyed them both in turn, the picture of confidence."We can make it work."
"And what if it doesn't?" Kevin shook his open hands, a desperate gesture. "We don't even know where Cori is! And we've only gotten, what, two more?"
"Three," said Kayla. "Jacques. And at least twenty more maybes. When the chips are down, odds are most of them become yeses."
Kevin shook his head.
"We'll bring the Commander in first thing tomorrow," said Kayla. "When she does check her band, she'll want nothing more than to get back in the loop."
"Kayla," said Livvy. "Are you sure? And what about tomorrow; will you even be able to do Plan A this early?"
"Rainer will let me give the presentation, especially since it's gonna be about Sustainable Power. I've already reached out to him, and Schmidt and Branford." She paced the room. "Munschloss has enough white guilt to use."
"It doesn't—" Kevin looked up from out of his hands. "Kayla, why the change-up? You told us all the 28th yesterday!"
"Because we don't know if we even have ten days. Extra Extraction rigs went out today because the SRs exceeded expectations Friday. No doubt the Managers have realized everyone gets the full pay even if the work finishes early. Efficiency, for less time here. And we don't know how many wrenches we can toss into things before we get noticed. If we wait for 100% certainty," she said. "Kepharon might get left behind."
"It's a balancing act," said Kevin, "but tomorrow isn't balanced! You and I both know that even with exponentially faster rates than expected, we've still got until Friday! Maybe even Saturday!"
"Tomorrow is enough." Kayla stared into the distance for a moment. "Odds aren't 100%, but we can make do with what we have. Kevin." She met his gaze, wide-eyed. "They're never 100. The only certainty is NOW."
Kevin sighed. "And the only failure is the failure to act. I'll need all night to resolve this, Kayla. To accept this order. But I can have the bomb ready tomorrow. The rest…" He frowned. "We'll see."
What the fuck!? Livvy wasn't expecting him to fold this quickly. "Are both of you fucking brain-dead!? Kayla, even if you count Jacques in, that's still only ten people! A 'maybe' isn't a soldier. And—"
"Cori Jensen is eleven," said Kayla. "Tomorrow, she'll be in. Might even be able to manage one or two more tonight, once all's said and done. Verne's promising."
"No, you're not listening!" Livvy cried. "We're opening Pandora's fucking Box… we can't just hope that things'll all work out! Eleven people!? A few more, with a good chance of cold feet!? We won't have control of anything, it's gonna be a fucking shoo—"
"Shh," said Kayla. She removed a strange little black plastic device from her sleeve. "She's coming."
Kevin held her shoulder. "Kayla," he said, "can I talk to her? I think I'll be—"
"No. She'll need orders."
***
Jacques Delende sat in silence. Fred and his buddy Falworth, and Lt. Carson and anxious Pérez, and all the rest except the three shouting at each other in room 3, had put on smiles and started up 'The Party'. Champagne, and cake, and conversation and a playlist.
It's still stupid, thought Jacques. That was about the first clear thought he'd had all afternoon. But… He… he didn't want them to get hurt. Not even Kay. She'd told him next to nothing throughout the day—not that he'd have been able to process 'plans' if she had. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow she's gonna bring Commander Jensen in here—the woman was nowhere to be found—and then I'll convince them to stop. Tonight he had to convince himself. Or drink. Both, hopefully.
Fred Wilson clapped him on the shoulder. "Champagne, bokk?" he asked, two tall glasses in the other hand.
Jacques took one and Fred sat down. "Sorry I been… 'unc'-ing you lately," he said. "I, um, I like you, 's'all. As a guy, I mean."
"No drunken confessions tonight," Jacques groaned. "I… you're good. Just…" He met Fred's stare. "If you got any doubts at all, about 'tomorrow'… tell her, okay?"
Fred nodded. "Did," he said. He chugged down the rest of his champagne and stood. "'Spose I'd better check on Dani. Musta got lost in nappin' after shifts."
"Wait," said Jacques. He cocked his head at Fred, squinting. "You did? Y'told her?"
"Huh?" Fred smirked. "Oh yeah. Told 'er all my doubts. All none of 'em." He left 168B.
And not long after, a woman entered, in standard outdoor E&R uniform with helmet, visor down, indoors. Once the door closed behind her she removed the helmet, and Jacques had never seen nor met her before: she had short and straight-ish black hair, which curled up off the back and sides of her head at many different heights, the bangs swept in shapes like wings out towards both sides. Her brows were black also, and thick, and her mouth was curled into a devious grin. She winked at him, then whistled a jaunty tune as she strode on towards room 3. Livvy and Kevin stepped out into the larger central room, ignoring the new woman. She went in.
Jacques hung his head. More bullshit, he thought. He sipped his drink.
Minutes later Lieutenant Pérez sat down at his side; Jacques didn't look up to see him, but could tell it was Pérez by the man's quick breathing. "Ensign Delende," he said, voice shaky. "Do you, um, do you suppose that she's alright?"
Jacques looked up at room 3. Kay and the new woman were having what looked like a very pleasant, quiet conversation, sat on opposite sides of the table inside. "…I don't know," he said.
"Err… I meant Commander Jensen. She sounded upset this afternoon, and even with the usual work-stresses, I think it had something to do with… this." He gestured about the room. The Party had quieted; everyone else was conversing in tones similarly hushed.
Jacques glanced over at him. "What do you think about this, Pérez? I mean, you kinda know what they're tryin' to…"
Manuel Pérez clinked his fingernail on the small glass he held; it was half-empty with water. "I'm not sure," he said. "Maybe you know more, but I believe they want to unionize? Wish I could say when that became 'illegal'. Piece-by-piece, I suppose…" He gulped down the rest of his water.
He doesn't realize yet, thought Jacques. It's worse than that. A part of him wanted to lay it all bare—barer than he'd laid it the night before. But another part of him, whether kinder or just more tired, wanted to let Pérez have his blissful ignorance. Jacques hardly knew where he stood; if he told the Lieutenant the full truth, which way would he be convinced? And which was right?
Pérez must've read the sadness on his face; he laid a hand on Jacques' shoulder, sighed. "You've been through a lot, Delende. More than I could know. The others might, but I couldn't fault you for being careful. I read a book once, said something like: 'every path ahead might hold peril'. It's why I try to… trust what others have learned and written down, the ideas they set out. Works for them, right?" He stood and made for the counter full of drinks.
Jacques watched him leave. Does he know it's more than a 'union'? He might've. Jacques considered Pérez truly humble, and kind on top of that. Even if it could be annoying sometimes. He saw why Jensen kept him around. Didn't mean he was stupid, necessarily. He had a thought like: Kay also seems excited to follow the rules, when in mixed company.
Very shortly after, Lt. Carson and Ellison ran up to him, laughing. "Ensign Delende!" barked Carson. "Those C&E fuckers think they can drink us under! You're gonna represent the white-and-blue, and that's an order!" Jacques grunted and stood.
He only had three shots—whiskey, whiskey, rum—and Jacques was no lightweight. Now he was only slightly floating, in good spirits. He croaked a sort of burp and patted Ellison and Bly, whose arms were draped round his shoulders. "Alright guys," he said, "I need a piss. Ellison, don't let this dipshit have another for a minute."
Ensign Bly swayed. "i'M goOod," he said. Ellison laughed.
The bathroom was across the hall; Jacques went, used both directions of his suit's crotch zipper, and rinsed his hands swiftly. The hand-dryer worked as well as hand-dryers always do, and as he crossed the hallway back towards 168B, wiping his moist hands on the front of his spacesuit, he caught sight of a singular person coming down the hallway. Dressed in red.
Jacques rushed back into the room, shut the door: "Companionship's coming!"
The others stared at him. Kay rushed over, handed him a champagne glass and hissed: "Go back! Invite them in!"
He hurried back out; behind him Kay was a conductor: hiding Bly in an anteroom and directing the others to make a joyous ruckus. The blonde-haired Companionship woman was only five feet away, and smiled at him as he came out and said, in a sober enough tone: "Hey! We're having a party, for Day One in the books! You in?" Tomorrow, everything's going to shit anyway, he thought. Don't matter if the redcoats know about our hideout now.
"Oh," she said. "I was only wondering what unscheduled club activity was going on in this room; I don't mean to invite myself—"
"Nonsense," said Jacques; he flashed her a winning smile, "It's for everyone! We've been hoping for more Companionship people; you guys are always bringing the best vibes."
The woman laughed in a high voice as he handed her the fresh glass and led her inside. "Well, I can't say no to that. I've always wanted to attend a party with 'flavor,' hahahahaha!" She blushed.
"Well, you've just gotta talk to my friend Doctor Makayla Farris!" he said. The rest of the party was loud; the people focused on each other in a most convincing façade. Only Pérez couldn't help but side-eye the Companionship woman nervously. Jacques gently pushed her towards the brightly smiling face of Kay.
"Hello, what's your name?" Kay Farris asked her, and led the woman towards another circle, one with Ellison, Carson and Kevin.
Jacques sighed and looked around. He had the sense that the new E&R woman, with the short black hair and the helmet, probably Wasn't Supposed To Be Here right now, and he wasn't able to find her—either she was hidden somewhere, or snuck out when he wasn't looking. The sooner we can scare this snitch bitch off the better, he thought. How do we 'kill her with kindness'? She'll either want to limit her drinking, or she's down to get totally smashed. He smiled evilly. 'Smashed'…
I'm not gonna do it, and Pérez wouldn't be able to seal the deal (wait, is he married?) hmm… Bly, maybe, if she gets drunk enough. Probably only feels safe with a white boy. Carson's gay, and Kevin… maybe Porter? Wait, what if she's gay?
The red-clad woman hurried past him, saying: "Thank you Ensign," as she continued out the door. Kay walked up beside him from behind.
"What'd you say t'her?" he asked.
"Showed her our next next round of shots," she said, and held a little glass up to him. "My own concoction." It was off-yellow, and putrid.
He sniffed and gagged. "What… you piss in this? Smells like that and Everclear!"
"How you know what my piss smells like?" she said with a grin. "Wait—don't answer that." She made him take the shot glass. Then raised her own: many other unscrupulous people were holding the same. "Bottoms up!" Kay shouted.
The foul potion hit Jacques like a truck: deep in the nostrils, burning down his throat. He staggered.
When the world stopped spinning he was sitting in one of the little rooms, with Kay and no one else. She had a half-full glass of whiskey sitting on the table in front of her, and the bottle. "I didn't actually piss in there," she said. She was smiling, and didn't sound very drunk. Fuckin… tolerance of a got-damn whale…
"I need a come-off," he muttered, and stumbled to his feet.
Kay stood too, and retrieved another bottle of liquor—cognac—from a nearby shelf, and a second glass with ice cubes. "I gotchu," she said, and began to pour. "Think I'd let them have the good stuff?"
He slumped into his chair. "Y'gottit all planned out, huh?" he said. Kay slid a glass of cognac across the table; it stopped in just the right spot. Fuckin' shuffleboard.
"No. I make plans, and they fall through, so I adapt." She finished her drink and poured another. "Anyone could do what I do. Just gotta get serious, and think it over. Build good heuristics."
Jacques took a sip, then pointed at her, shouted: "Nerd!" He clattered his glass back onto the plastic table, chortled deeply.
"Yeah, alright Jackie," she said. "Take it easy. I'm tryin' my best to catch up to your drunken ass." She finished another glass of whiskey, then poured herself a cognac.
"H—how you doin' so much straight?" he asked. "Where's the mixers?" He staggered to his feet.
"There's juice in the fridge," she said. "But this's some quality shit. Savor it."
He sipped, smacked his lips, and glanced out through this room's door. The party looked more somber now: a few people were singing karaoke, but many more were just sitting around in quiet conversation or quieter thought. He caught Fred glancing his way.
After she put one more drink away, Kay's face drooped. "S—savor it," she muttered. "Like Fred says. Gotta enjoy…" She poured another glass for herself.
A shot of lucid clarity broke through Jacques' mental cloud of inebriation. He sat up. "You really like this guy? Wilson?"
Kay set her glass down slowly. "Yeah," she said. "He's a good person." Her head bobbed unconsciously, and her brows were scrunched up tight. "I just thought… hey, Jacques… you ever feel like you're a monster?" Her eyes were set upon the middle distance, half-open and glassy. "Like… like you see things how they really are, and that lets you live, lets you succeed when others can't, or… because…"
Jacques' own tired eyes were also focused on nothing.
She sighed. "My folks been 'political types' too, y'know." She smirked and glanced his way. "And y'wanna guess what that got'em?"
He raised his head. "Pfft. What?"
Her smile tightened. "Everything. Cushy jobs, fancy fundraiser galas, generous donors… Daddy was the other kinda 'political,' get it?"
Jacques just stared at her.
"Yeah," she said. "We both lived through the same shit, same hopeful future. Heh, 'Hope'. And then you got to see how it was all a buncha bullshit." She pursed her lips. "Only… it wasn't a lie. Came true, just not for everyone…"
He narrowed his eyes.
"I was gonna be a lawyer," said Makayla, "or… I could've… I coulda been anything. The First Whatever. Coulda had my slice a' 'Excellence'. Before this 'club' it was Econ, a real club, way back when. Got good at that, heh, woulda been useful. For policy." She grinned. "Everyone wanted to be my friend, oh yeah, built up a nice fledgling network. Only, everything stopped making sense, or…"
"Makayla," ventured Jacques, "someone screwed you over? Or… you messed things up, what's going on with—"
"I guess," she said, "I guess I saw… the way things were going. The way I was going, maybe. Or… heh, maybe that tinted glass ceiling of yours was closing, or—or changing." She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "Jacques," she choked out, "how do you manage it? Living, when you Know—"
Jacques ground his bottom teeth over the top ones. "Kay," he said, grumbling, "y'just gotta take care of yourself. All this 'monster' shit… sounds to me like you're taking on more guilt than you deserve, for… for how things are. I guess I, uh, couldn't imagine what you're going through, but maybe this Wilson guy's a good start. 'Get busy livin', or get busy dyin',' right?"
Kay shook her head, grinning. "That's such a fuckin'… hey, hold on Jackie boy, why ain't you follow your own advice? You can say whatever bull you want 'bout getting 'betrayed,' but I seen the way you look at Livvy."
"Uh, I…"
"What?" Kay spat. "You still got idiot hangups, just 'cuz she's—!?" She stared at him; Jacques was shying away. "Oh, I… I'm sorry, I didn't—"
Jacques staggered to his feet. "Did you just apologize for somethin'!? Kay Farris, sayin' sorry t'me?" He shook his head. "Maybe you're right, and my head's just full a' stupid bullshit, my own stupid shame… what are you apologizin' for!? 'Monster,' like you got anything to—you what, nuked your own law career? Didn't wanna be like all the other piece a'shit lawyers? Whadda you got to be ashamed of?"
Kay kicked back another glass of cognac and stood also. She slapped a hand onto Jacques' shoulder, and tried to put a serious tone of command into her slurred words: "S'up t'us annidizint. Everyone, hah, geddit!? Everyone, heeheeheehuehueh,and us thirteens only getta plead the thirteenth, like that shit fuggin' matterzh! Just get yours, bitch, how you gonna, hahahahaha, what else—whatchu gonna do? Mmm d-d-d-d, whenthey come for you?" She snorted and teetered and cackled, woozy and delirious.
Jacques removed her hand from his shoulder and tried to hold her steady. "Oh nah," he said, "you gotta get to bed." He leaned against the door and shoved it open. "Kevin!"
Kevin and Fred rushed in and helped her stand. "One'a you women respecters gotta get her ass to bed!" Jacques said at them, pointing with one unsteady finger. "And ope—oh, not tonight Fred. You'd proly need the rest'a this bottle to get where she's at!" He brandished the half-empty bottle of cognac, which had somehow found its way into his hand.
Kevin glanced at Livvy. She huffed. The two men assisted Kay out into the hallway.
***
Livvy had to wrestle the bottle out of Jacques' hands. He was obnoxiously amused by this, and at some point, just gave up and let her have it, a rotten smirk on his face. She ignored him. "Raif!" she said, "You good in here?"
Lieutenant Carson gave her a 'thumbs up'. He and Mike from C&E were holding up Tammy Ellison for a keg-stand.
Livvy rolled her eyes, retrieved two holobands from the drawer, and dragged Jacques by the arm out into the hall. "Whoa, where're we goin'?" he said. "W—huh-huh-huh—you sober?"
"Farrah doesn't drink," she muttered under her breath. "You need sleep, Delende. For Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow!" he cried out, smiling. "Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow. Jensen's too busy for all your guilt-trippin'… and I mean trippin'!" He exhaled sharply as he was yanked forwards. "Hey, I saw her decide on this little death-spiral. Y'think she'd do somethin' this dumb?"
Livvy just kept walking. Jacques followed, pulled along, flopping and smiling dumbly.
"It was Fred!" he cried. "An' y'know what? Y'know what Livvy?"
"Jacques, shut up! You aren't thinking straight."
"…he's right! That bitch wouldn't ever do something stupid as tryin' to fix shit, all theoretical… the risk, haha, the risk! We hadda party one time, her folks' place in fuckin' Farmington, and she couldn't do shit! 'Oh no I don't wanna talk to him'—couldn't even jump in 'er own pool! That's why she's half in the bag so much, hyuh, ALL the way in her bag! Can't fuckin commit, she—"
Livvy screeched to a halt. "Oh yeah," she hissed coldly, eyes sharp on his, "she wouldn't ever take a risk? What've you been doing, fuckass?"
They carried on in silence.
Every few minutes Jacques would point in the direction of his quarters, and Livvy would tromp on in that direction.
At last they reached it. She slammed his holoband onto the lock's scanner, and shoved him inside. Jacques stumbled to a halt and spun, stared at her. Livvy still stood outside the door, arms crossed. "Ain't you," he said, "uhh…"
"You're still plastered," she grumbled, "so it wouldn't be fair… to tell you how much of a fuckheaded chud-lord you are!" She pointed angrily, hand-muscles tense. "How've you done it!? I shouldn't ever have a case for getting mad at you, you—you ridiculous sad-sack!"
His shoulders slumped. "You… just come inside," he said.
She stuttered: "Uh—h-h…" and walked into his room.
Jacques flopped down onto one of his chairs, held his forehead. "Livvy… you know that this whole plan's all fuc—"
"No!" she said. "You aren't gonna convince me… you can't even convince yourself, you… don't try me, asshole! I've thought this through a thousand times; Kayla's thought this through, and you can put whatever older-sister trauma shit you want on her, but you know she isn't stupid! So just can it, alright…" She sat down on a chair opposite him. "Why you gotta yap so much, you pissbaby fuckin' troll…"
"Why…" he said. Jacques hung his head. "Why me?"
"Because you're smart, and somewhere under all your excuses you are a good person, and you're her friend, you dipshit! She always trusted you! For some fuckin' reason…"
"No, I don't…" Jacques looked up, pouting. "Why you?"
"I…" Livvy shook her head, stood and waved her arms past each other. "Nope, drunk! You, bed. Now!" She grabbed his arms and tried to pull him off his seat.
Jacques laughed and resisted. He looks so stupid! she thought. Then, to Livvy's own surprise, she yanked him up; they stumbled together. She realized that his lean, strong hands were tight around her upper arms—for balance—and she was pushing back into his chest with her own hands—so he wouldn't topple them both. Then she met his eyes. They were full of terror.
Livvy smirked. "Boop," she said—she tapped his nose. "You need sleep." She led him to his bed.
Jacques curled up into his blankets, still staring attentively all the way. "I'm good," he muttered. "Or you could just… stay…"
She reached out with one open hand and held the side of his face; Jacques tilted his head upwards, willingly, almost instinctively. "Nope!" she said with a grin. "Leave 'em wanting more!" She shut the light and then the door on her way out.
In the hallway, she shed a tear. She knew: uncertainty. Tomorrow.