CHAPTER FIVE
Left alone and locked in, Jaime had a brief impulse to throw something or kick at the door, but he knew both were useless. It didn’t mean it wouldn’t feel good though, so he hurled one of Rylan’s boots against the wall. It made a thunk that was satisfying for all of one second.
While he blamed Rylan for a lot: spotting his hiding place, dragging him around, lurking and glaring all the time; he supposed he couldn’t blame him for being angry about Jaime looking at him in the showers. Well, not so much looking as ogling. Definitely into leering territory. It was a terrible way to behave, and Jaime’s only excuse for being inexcusable was that Rylan looked really, really good naked. His body had been all long lines and sculpted muscle, skin glistening with water and steam. Jaime had been studying his arm, but it was more marvelling at how, even carefully guarded, he could sense the places where muscle and machine knitted together. That close, the invisible signals from the mix of electronics and nervous system felt like a soft whisper against Jaime’s skin.
It had been such a relief to think about something other than danger or running that Jaime had for a moment forgotten his situation and who Rylan was. For an even briefer moment, Jaime had thought that Rylan was interested, too. But that clearly wasn’t the case.
Jaime shook his head. It was stupid to even entertain such thoughts. It wasn’t like it had even been that long since he’d had sex. Before he’d stowed away on the ship to the Mamawayawin outpost, there’d been an interesting night with a handsome man who’d claimed to be a bounty hunter. And before that—
This time, Jaime couldn’t stop the sob that ripped through him. Alone in the room, he crouched on the floor, holding himself as he remembered… all of them. There’d been a couple dozen kids all within a few years in age at the Commonwealth facility where Jaime had been brought twelve years ago. Their teachers had called them MMIs, which stood for mind-machine-interface, but the guards, and everyone else had called them wizards or mutants — or far worse.
So within the facility they’d kept to themselves, growing up together and falling in and out of romantic entanglements in every possible combination. None of them took any of it too seriously. They all knew that eventually they’d be assigned to different outposts or ships scattered across human-controlled space. It promised more freedom and some semblance of a normal life, but they were essentially civil servants for life — helping to keep the Commonwealth safe was their birthright. In the meantime, they were more like family to each other than anything else. They were all each other had.
For Jaime, there had been two especially: Irina and Paulo. His best friends. His first lovers. They’d always been together. And now … now Jaime was the only one left.
He finally made himself get up off the floor and climb the ladder to the top bunk. It was a good size and had a thin panel that he could draw shut and block off the rest of the room. Inside there was a reading light and a pillow that smelled like a stranger. Jaime chose to stay in his coat. It was stolen, like all his clothes, but by now it felt like his.
He touched the case in his pocket. There was a data chip inside. If he had known what would happen, he would have filled up all that space with pictures of his friends, copies of the cards and notes they’d sent him, a hundred different mementos that were now lost to him. But Jaime had been carrying that chip around for years now, and it only ever had one file on it. A document with the name of Jaime Bashir and the coordinates for the Verdant colony — a tiny moon in a distant system where he’d been born. It had been his keepsake for so long because it held the promise he had whispered to himself since he was ten years old: that he would find his way home.
Jaime took a breath and stretched out on the bed. His best option was to go along with the crew. If the captain was to be believed — and it seemed like the others trusted him, at least — there would be money at the end of this mysterious cargo delivery. Maybe it would be money enough for Jaime to book passage on another ship to get him to Verdant.
And if it was all lies and they were planning to betray him? Well, then Jaime would show them why wizards were feared.
He had to smile to himself at the picture of him trying to fight his way off the ship — past Rylan. It would be like trying to push over a mountain. Fortunately, there were other, sneakier, ways to escape a place, and Jaime had been studying them for years.
He was still smiling slightly as he drifted off to sleep.
There was the smell of smoke all around. Jaime panicked as he tried to squeeze through the metal and rubble holding him. He could feel the searing pain across his back, and heard himself scream, just as he could hear the screams of the others. He could also hear something else.
“Jaime.”
He gasped as it became harder to breathe through the smoke. He thrashed against the iron bands holding his arms—
“Jaime.”
He opened his eyes, blinking through sweat and tears. He was in a dimly lit room, but the main thing he could see was the floor, a considerable distance below him. Strong hands were gripping him tightly.
“Jaime,” Rylan said, his voice steady. “You’re onboard a ship. The Wayward Prince, remember? You’re having a nightmare.”
Awareness came rushing back. Jaime realized he was half out of his bunk. Rylan had one foot on the ladder and the other on his own berth, supporting Jaime’s upper body.
“Oh,” Jaime said. He could feel his heart hammering wildly. He took hold of the frame of his bunk and pulled himself back, dropping down onto the pillow.
Rylan disappeared from view briefly, then his head popped back up next to the bunk. He held out a cloth to Jaime.
“For your face,” Rylan said.
Jaime stared stupidly at the washcloth until Rylan began to gently, but thoroughly, wipe Jaime’s forehead and cheeks. It was cool and damp against Jaime’s hot skin.
“I wouldn’t have touched you,” Rylan said matter-of-factly. “Not the best thing for a dream like that, but it seemed like you were determined to claw your way out of the bunk. It’s a bit of a drop.”
“Yeah,” Jaime said shakily. “Thank you.”
“You get dreams like that a lot?”
Jaime felt wrung out. In the semi-darkness, with the soft touches on his face, there was nothing left but the truth. “There was an explosion, over two weeks ago now. We were on a training mission. Everyone in my MMI group. All of them… gone.” His voice failed.
“That’s when you started running.”
“Yes. Even if I wanted to go back, I don’t know if it was an accident or something deliberate. Maybe even the Commonwealth—”
“The Commonwealth wouldn’t do that,” Rylan said. “They protect humans.”
Jaime found himself clutching at Rylan’s hand. “How can you be sure? You don’t know the way they looked at us. Even the people who trained us — who knew us — sometimes it was like they were disgusted. Like we were the Singularity made flesh.”
“They wouldn’t.” Rylan’s voice was firm. “Besides, you’re valuable to them. It could have been an anti-tech extremist group or one of the theocracies. It could have been…” He trailed off and left unsaid It could have been anyone.
Jaime realized he was still holding Rylan’s broad, warm hand and let it go. “Anyway,” Jaime said trying for lightness, “so I get bad dreams now. Means I have to get the pricier private room option in hotels. I should have warned you.”
Rylan had his arms resting on the edge of the bunk, so Jaime could see him shrug his shoulders. The light outlined half of his square jaw and the golden hair covering it. “It happens. The dreams fade with time. Except every now and then something will hit you in a particular way, remind you, and then that night it’ll be like you’re back. As though no time has passed and you’re exactly the person you were in that one awful moment. Then you understand that, no matter how far you go, you’re always going to carry it. Those are the kinds of burdens you don’t get to set down.”
As he spoke, his voice changed, the accent growing more polished and formal. Jaime didn’t remark on it, but he did see that Rylan was rubbing at his one hand with the other. He couldn’t help but ask, “Do you dream about losing your arm?”
Rylan smiled. It was, Jaime realized, the first time he had seen him smile, but even in the low light Jaime could tell it was sad. “All the time. But those aren’t the bad ones. The real nightmares, like the one you had, are about the times when we’re completely helpless to do anything.” He gave himself a little shake, nodding briskly at Jaime. “All right, get up. You clearly can’t be trusted in the top bunk. We’re switching.”
“Um,” Jaime realized his pillow was damp and the sheets on the bed were all twisted. “Are you sure? I’m okay now—”
“Yeah, and then I wake up to you with a cracked skull on the floor. Some of us have actual duties to perform tomorrow, y’know, so I’d like to get some sleep. Move.”
Rylan dropped back down, and Jaime sat up as well as he could, given the bunk’s low ceiling. He clutched the pillow to his chest and carefully descended the ladder. He realized, when he got to the bottom, that Rylan was dressed only in a pair of loose shorts, and he averted his eyes.
For his part, Rylan snorted at Jaime in his coat and his now sweat-dampened clothes. He went to one of the cupboards and pulled out a shirt. “Sleep in this,” he said, tossing it at Jaime. “It’ll probably be long enough for a nightgown on you.”
He grabbed his own pillow and climbed the ladder. When he got into the bunk he shut the screen covering it with an aggrieved sigh. “Try not to make any more noise,” Rylan said by way of goodnight.
Jaime glared at the closed screen and took off his clothes. The shirt, and the sheets once he climbed into the bunk, smelled of Rylan, but he did his best to ignore that. He did see, before turning off the bedside light, that stuck to the back wall of the bunk was a small paper picture, a printed photograph of a smiling blond woman holding a chubby-cheeked baby and a sandy-haired man with a seven- or eight-year old boy on his knee. The square jaw on the man and the blue eyes of the woman seemed to point to them being Rylan’s parents, though Jaime couldn’t tell which of the two children he might have been.
Even after the light was off, Jaime stared upwards for a long time, but there was no sound from the bunk above. He finally closed his eyes and hoped there would be no more dreams.
If Jaime had thought Rylan’s night-time kindness would carry over into the day, he was mistaken.
He awoke to a blaring alarm and then Rylan jumping down from the bunk to do push-ups on the floor. He was too bleary-eyed to appreciate Rylan walking around the small quarters half — and then fully — naked, while he exercised and got dressed with far more energy than anyone had a right to have before coffee. Rylan also seemed unwilling to let Jaime go back to sleep, something he made clear when he yanked off the sheet Jaime had pulled up over his head.
“But why do I have to get up?” Jaime groaned. “What is it I have to do onboard right now?”
Rylan gave him a hard stare. “You’re on call in case of emergencies with the computer—”
“I can talk to Dub from right here. In fact, I’ll just ask her—”
“Don’t,” Rylan said warningly. “Besides, the doc wants your help with the garden.”
“And there could be a weeding emergency?”
“I thought farming folk got up early.”
“When there are animals to feed,” Jaime protested. “Or limited daylight. This is just you being sadistic.”
“I’m not leaving you alone in my quarters with all my stuff.”
That was so ridiculous that Jaime actually half-sat up. “You locked me in here last night!”
Rylan set his jaw. “Get up and get dressed, or I’m dragging you out of that bunk.”
It was definitely a threat Rylan could carry out, so Jaime reluctantly crawled out of the bed.
Rylan did at least have the decency to go back up to the top bunk while Jaime used the toilet and washed his face, though Jaime was already deciding his priority today would be to find alternate washroom facilities onboard the ship.
Rylan led the way to the galley. The only person inside was Simi, sitting slumped at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Her eyes had shadows beneath them, but she gave them both a bright smile.
“G’morning,” she said. “How’d you sleep?”
Jaime glanced at Rylan, but he was already going through the kitchen cupboards. “Fine,” Jaime lied, sitting opposite her. “It’s still a little early for me, though.”
“Late for me,” she sighed. “I’ve been trying to coax more life out of those fuel cells for hours now.” She leaned in conspiratorially to Jaime. “Did Morning Sunshine over there have you doing calisthenics?” She nodded towards Rylan, who was pouring protein flakes into a bowl.
“No,” Jaime said, trying to push his hair back. He hadn’t wanted to ask Rylan for a comb, and it was all over the place. “But he was doing push-ups and other weird grunt-y things.”
She giggled. “I’ve caught him running laps around the decks. I don’t think he believes we’re very shipshape on this ship.”
Rylan thumped his bowl and a glass of greenish juice onto the table and sat down, glaring at both of them. “I think a little exercise never hurt anyone. Some discipline around this place wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.”
Simi winked. “Some parts of that do sound fun. And dirty.”
Rylan choked on his cereal. “Simi, honestly.” He was blushing.
She shook her head at him. “He hasn’t hooked up with anyone onboard,” she said conversationally to Jaime, like Rylan wasn’t sitting and sputtering right there. “Though he does take off on his own pretty quick whenever we’re in port. There are some good brothels in the Sprawl, in case you’re interested. I can show you once we get there.”
“Um…” was all Jaime could manage.
“You’re unbelievable,” Rylan said to her.
“What? They’re all unionized. It’s good to support local businesses.”
She didn’t seem to take Rylan’s glowering seriously, so he turned his scowl to Jaime. “You waiting to be served or something?”
Jaime pushed himself up from the table. He wasn’t hungry, but he definitely needed some caffeine. He wasn’t expecting real coffee onboard a ship, but he sighed when he spotted the big container of BuzzyBrand on the counter. There were fake coffees of varying degrees of awfulness around, and BuzzyBrand was the cheapest and worst of the lot. He made himself a cup anyway and tried not to make a face at the scorched metal taste.
“Okay,” Simi said, “I better get back to it. Rylan, would you come by the engine room later and help me clear up some of the debris?” She saluted cheekily. “I promise to be appropriate and professional.”
“Doubt it,” Rylan said. “But just let me drop him off with the doc and I’ll be down there.”
“Lydia had monitor duty last night after Kaz finally went to bed, so she won’t be up for hours yet.”
Rylan gave Jaime an exasperated look and Jaime could feel without him saying it that Rylan did not want him in the engine room around the more sensitive equipment. He felt his shoulders start to hunch up defensively, but then had a thought.
“Hey, do you guys have a library?”
When the Singularity attacked, one of the first casualties had been the records covering pretty much all of human knowledge and history. Databases containing centuries of books, pictures and video had been lost. Of course, the second casualty of the Singularity had been billions of actual people, so there was no mourning of the libraries for a long time. But one of the chief causes of the New Dark Age wasn’t just the loss of technology, it was the lack of any understanding of how to rebuild it. Colonies that had relied on tech for just about everything were left to figure out on their own how to grow food, treat illness, and repair equipment. Many collapsed. Lots of people starved. Societies descended into such a state that science might as well have been magic, and people like Jaime were practically monsters.
The Commonwealth, as it was formed from a loose alliance of surviving governments, made it part of its mandate to share knowledge. Jaime had to give them credit for making sure people could read, even if a lot of the superstitions stuck around.
Actual printed books could be found in the colonies large enough to boast museums and in the homes of collectors. And data archaeologists, usually MMIs like Jaime, spent years piecing together fragments and recreating lost documents. As humanity dragged itself out of the Dark Age and rebuilt, it made databases again and computers, but the insistence on hard copies for everything important remained. Even the smallest shuttle had printed repair manuals and star charts in case the computer had to be taken offline. The larger ships often took the responsibility of potentially being the cradle of civilization seriously and some had libraries filled with Old Earth classics and more modern stories.
The library onboard The Wayward Prince looked like it had been re-purposed from a lounge — there were old couches and small tables scattered around the long room, of a far more elegant make than the bolted-in shelves with their clear panels to protect the books.
Scanning the shelves, Jaime saw there were the expected manuals and a number of survival guides for various planets and systems. Beyond the practical, he found the usual Confucius, Dumas, and Harry Potters. But he was pleased to see there was also a volume of The Luisa Lee Adventures that he hadn’t read, and he settled in to see how the plucky heroine would fend off yet another invasion of her home colony by Singularity-controlled killer robots.
Luisa was just about to uncover the identity of a traitorous spy when the library’s comm panel pinged.
“Jaime?” Simi’s voice said. “Can you come help us with something on the bridge?”
Figuring a direct request meant he could skirt the no talking to the computer order, he got Dub to discreetly push a schematic of the ship into his mind and was able to make his way to the bridge without getting lost. When he got there, Kaz was in her pilot’s chair, with Simi and Bo standing around her. Kaz had looked annoyed already when he came in, so he didn’t think her frown was entirely for him, though it did deepen when she saw him. Simi, at least, seemed pleased at his arrival, though in a distracted way. She was wearing her cap and chewing on one of its ends.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “Dub is on the verge of having a meltdown.” Jaime gave her an alarmed look and she added, “Not in the literal deadly sense. More like having a hissy.”
“She’s not,” Kaz said. “She’s raising concerns, just like any member of the crew would. I wish you wouldn’t treat her like—” She pressed her lips together, but her tattoos snapped and sped across her arms.
“Okay,” Jaime said, “so what’s the problem?”
Bo gave a tired sigh. “We need to conserve power since we’re still more than two days out from the Sprawl. I’ve made some re-calibrations on the environmentals.” He raised a hand as Jaime’s eyes widened. “Nothing we’d notice, but it is reduced oxygen to some of the less-frequented areas of the ship. Environmental controls are all manual, of course, but Dub doesn’t like it.”
“She keeps trying to speed the ship up, so we’ll get to the Sprawl faster,” Simi said. “Which kinda negates any fuel savings.”
“Dub’s worried about us,” Kaz said abruptly, eyes on her controls. “She thinks we’re going to run out of air. She’s trying to help.”
Jaime ran a hand through his hair. This computer was so weird. “Okay,” he said. “Can you show me the calculations on our fuel and travel time? It won’t mean anything to me, but I may need the numbers to convince Dub.”
It took longer than last time to talk to the computer. It would look like only a few minutes to those watching Jaime — his eyes alternately closed or rapidly scanning the screens of numbers he’d been given — but it was a considerable mental back-and-forth. Underlying Dub’s insistence was a thread of panic. To her, the crew was in danger. Orders to cut off the air had to be resisted.
Not cut off, Jaime told her. Just a little less in the empty rooms.
He felt like he was wading through some murky subroutines and truly old code in talking to her. Whatever was underlying Dub’s concern, it was connected to something in the past.
He opened his eyes. “Kaz, there’s a faster route.”
“Excuse me?”
“Dub knows it, not me.” He called the chart up on Kaz’s view screen with a flicker of thought, Dub highlighting the path and doing the math. “It shaves off half a day, but it does it without speeding up. And that” — he cocked his head, listening — “will be enough to satisfy Dub as to our safety.” He looked at Bo. “As long as you seal off those areas of the ship that are affected by the low oxygen, so no one can stumble into them.”
Bo didn’t look offended; he just nodded and looked upwards as he spoke. “Of course. I’ll do that, Dub. Right away.”
Jaime shook off the connection and rubbed between his eyes. “Does the new route actually work?”
“Yeah.” Kaz was too busy making adjustments on her controls to sound annoyed. “It’s a little more involved piloting, but it looks good.”
Simi was looking at him. “It is okay, though? Dub’s all right?”
Jaime glanced around. “I think, a long time ago, Dub was given an order. To… shut off the air. She fought it somehow.”
Simi’s eyes were huge. “The Singularity?” she whispered.
It was ridiculous to whisper, but Jaime didn’t feel like saying the name out loud either. “Maybe. Something happened.”
Bo shook his head. “All that old programming should have been wiped clean. She shouldn’t be able to remember.”
“Things get overwritten,” Jaime said, “but that doesn’t mean the data is truly erased. Even if it’s just the outline of what was removed.” He shrugged. “If you fell out of your crib as a baby you wouldn’t remember it, but you might have a fear of falling as an adult.”
“I’m not comforted by the idea of our ship’s computer as a traumatized child,” Bo said. “But I’ll go and seal off some corridors if it’ll make her happy.”
He left the bridge and Jaime looked at Simi. “It’s not an emotional thing. It’s data and reactions—” He stopped because what were emotions really? It was like arguing philosophy in one of his old classes.
“Brave Dub,” Simi said. She patted the nearest panel. “I always knew she was the best ship in the galaxy.”
Jaime said nothing, because didn’t know if Dub had been successful and saved her long-ago crew. That was data he hadn’t gone deep enough to find.
Simi headed out and Jaime was about to follow when Kaz spoke. She’d been silent and focused on her screens, but now she looked up at Jaime with an oddly vulnerable face. “What does she sound like?”
“Who?”
“Dub. Her voice.”
“It’s not like an actual sound,” Jaime said. “It’s more like a presence.” Kaz was still waiting. “But I guess I’d call her presence warm.”
Kaz nodded and dropped her gaze to where her hands were on the controls. Jaime suddenly felt like he was somehow intruding, and left the bridge.
Jaime spent the rest of the day in sick bay, helping the doctor re-pot and trim various plants. It felt good to get his hands in the dirt again, and afterwards, if he was a little disappointed when he went to the showers and found them empty — except for Mags who nodded to him on her way out — he didn’t let himself think about why that was.
Dinner was more rushed than last night’s. Everyone except Jaime had repairs or preparations to make. The captain didn’t bring out any sort of wine, but sat staring glumly at his water like he wished it were something stronger. When dinner ended, Rylan went to the bridge to do a shift on monitor duty, so Jaime went back to their — Rylan’s — quarters, stopping by the library to grab his book.
Luisa Lee had driven back the invaders once again, and was about to get her well-earned reward in the arms of a heroic Commonwealth agent, when Rylan stomped back into the room. Jaime, who’d been stretched out on the upper bed, sat up, banging his head against the ceiling.
“What’s wrong?”
Rylan seemed especially put out. “Everyone’s acting like the sun shines out of your ass. Simi’s all Jaime this, Jaime that. Even Bo said you seemed to catch on real quick. Bo. That man didn’t know my name for the first two weeks I was onboard.”
“Maybe I’m more memorable.”
Rylan fixed him with a fierce blue gaze. “Maybe you’re trying to infiltrate this ship.”
Jaime laughed. “Infiltrate? I’m pretty much a prisoner.”
“The first duty of every prisoner is to escape.”
“Is it? That seems dumb. I’d put staying alive way ahead of that. Look, I just want the money. I’d think a pirate would appreciate that.”
“Smugglers,” Rylan said, crossing his arms.
“What?”
“Pirates rob other ships. Harass smaller outposts. We just smuggle goods.”
Jaime turned back to his book. “Well, that’s very noble of you. I’m glad you’re holding onto your principles. So do your smuggling thing, and get me my money, and then I’ll be out of your way.”
“Get down here.”
Rylan’s voice didn’t sound like it could be argued with, but Jaime couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”
“Because I fucking said so. Climb down.”
Gulping, Jaime descended the ladder. Rylan put both hands firmly on his shoulders and Jaime tried not to flinch. He steadily pushed Jaime downwards and for a dizzy moment Jaime had a sudden thought that Rylan wanted him on his knees. But he was steering him backwards as well, so Jaime ended up sitting on the lower bunk.
“I thought I said you weren’t to be trusted on the top bunk. You’re sleeping here for the duration.”
“Okay,” was all Jaime could manage through his suddenly dry mouth. Rylan climbed up the ladder and Jaime was left blinking, his hands in his lap.
An arm reached down from above, holding the book Jaime had been reading. He was sure Rylan would have preferred to toss it at Jaime’s head, but books were too precious. Jaime took it from Rylan’s hand.
“I can see you’re using your time to edify your mind,” Rylan said sarcastically.
“It’s a good book.” Rylan snorted and Jaime felt indignant. “Have you even read any Luisa Lees? No? Then you don’t what you’re talking about.”
“People fought and died to preserve the few scraps of human culture we have left and that’s what you read.”
“We’re making new culture, too, you know. Besides, it’s fun. You might even like it. There’s all sorts of action-y stuff with guns and fighting.”
“If you’ve been in real combat you’d know nobody thinks of it as action-y stuff. It’s life and death.”
Jaime leaned back on the bed. “This isn’t supposed to be real. The bad guys always lose, the heroes get to live happily ever after… at least until the next book. But after seeing terrible things happen and so many people die, why wouldn’t you want to escape reality for a while?”
Rylan stayed silent, so after a while Jaime opened the book and went back to reading.
Jaime was back in the library the next day, to return the book and to wonder if he should start The Luisa Lee Adventures over again from the beginning. It was one of his favorite comfort reads. There were also, despite Rylan’s assurances, a lot of books about pirates, both in space and of the Old Earth variety.
Jaime was running a finger over some promising titles when Rylan came in. Jaime jumped back immediately, expecting Rylan to blame him for something, but he barely spared Jaime a glance, heading straight over to the bare back wall. Rylan pressed a panel that Jaime hadn’t noticed, and slowly, creakily, the wall began to retract, revealing a long, wide viewing window.
“We’re coming up on the Sprawl,” Rylan said. “You don’t want to miss this.”
Curious, Jaime went over to stand beside Rylan. He could see they were approaching an icy moon. Beyond it lay a gas giant planet banded in blue and white. It was a dramatic sight, but Rylan seemed to be looking for something else.
Rylan leaned in, putting a hand against the window. “There,” he said, pointing.
Coming around the moon into view was the most unlikely construction Jaime had ever seen. It looked to be an assortment of satellites, old ships of all sizes, solar arrays, and space stations — and maybe just some random scrap metal thrown in — joined together and orbiting the moon. He could see why the place was called the Sprawl.
“How does that even work?” Jaime asked.
Rylan practically had his forehead against the window. “The human spirit,” he said. He seemed serious. What was more, he seemed awestruck by this collection of junk. Jaime looked again to try and get what Rylan was seeing, but mostly he watched Rylan.
The Sprawl loomed larger as the ship approached, filling up most of the window. Closer, it looked even more likely that the entire outpost would break apart at any moment. But Rylan still watched.
He finally turned away from the window, eyes wide and face seeming young and filled with wonder. Jaime stared up at him, unable to look anywhere else. Rylan gazed back, his expression changing, but still remaining open. He licked his lips while Jaime watched.
“I—” Rylan shook his head and took a step back from the window. And Jaime. “The captain wants to see you before we dock. Probably to discuss your shore privileges.”
Jaime couldn’t look away from his mouth. “Extremely limited, I guess.”
Rylan raised an eyebrow, then pressed his lips together in a wry twist. “Go see Garcia,” he said and turned away.
Captain Garcia’s quarters were twice the size of Rylan's — literally, since it seemed like a wall between two rooms had simply been removed. He had an actual bed instead of bunks, though it took up nearly half the space. The room was filled with rich fabrics and draperies, furnished for comfort rather than efficiency. Garcia waved Jaime to a well-cushioned chair, not bothering to get up from his own. The one concession to the captain’s presumably greater responsibilities was a stack of ledgers and files next to his chair, though he had a mug resting on top of it.
“So, Jaime,” Garcia said, crossing one leg over the other. Jaime saw that his tall boots looked freshly polished. “First time to the Sprawl?”
“Definitely. It seems…” He thought of Rylan’s face watching the outpost approach. “Impressive.”
Garcia’s lip curled. “It’s a scrap heap. But it’s a very useful place for people like us.” His brown eyes fixed on Jaime’s. “People who want to avoid Commonwealth scrutiny.”
Jaime carefully studied a wall hanging and said nothing.
Garcia gave an elegant shrug and continued. “We’re heading to one of the larger cargo bays to put in for repairs. It’s currently operated by one Captain Naree Yoon.” He leaned forward. “Do not listen to anything she says in regards to my character flaws or personal endowments. She’s inclined to paint me in a less than flattering light.”
“Uh, okay.” Jaime gathered that this was the captain’s dreaded ex.
Garcia leaned back again. While his body was relaxed, his eyes were keen. “You know, if you do want to leave us, the Sprawl would be a good place to do it. With your talents you could find paying work there or on an outgoing ship. I’m going to tell Rylan not to stop you if you try to run. Or walk, or just stroll away. I’d prefer it if you stayed on as insurance, but I’m not comfortable holding you against your will longer than we already have.”
Jaime frowned. He didn’t know what to think. For all he knew The Wayward Prince’s mysterious delivery could be taking him in the opposite direction of home. The money he’d been promised might be an illusion. But he’d let himself start to feel… safe here. Or at least safer than he had in weeks.
The captain reached for his mug, not minding that he dislodged several papers. “Of course, you don’t need to tell me what you decide. Still, I urge you to be cautious. The Sprawl is Commonwealth in name only. There’s not so much a local government in place here as there are a number of turfs and profit-sharing arrangements. Everything is for sale. Some would see a person like you as a valuable commodity to be used and traded. Others would see you as dangerous. I know of at least one group of Purists that operates openly in the Sprawl.”
Shocked, Jaime stared. “Purists? Living on a space station?”
As humanity emerged from the New Dark Age, a lot of new philosophies and religions had come with them. Some had seen the Singularity as the work of an angry deity and felt that the AIs should be allowed to finish the job. Others saw the key to survival as embracing technology in all forms, so people could eventually defeat the Singularity or somehow merge with it.
Then there were those who went in the opposite direction. Technology shouldn’t just be regulated, according to them, it should be destroyed. Of all the anti-tech extremist groups, the so-called Purists were the most extreme and the most anti-tech. If it were up to them, humans would be tilling the soil with sticks.
“They have some manifesto about using unclean tools until they can free us all from the bondage of technology.” Garcia waved a hand. “It was very wordy, and I couldn’t get through the pamphlet I’d been handed. In any case, I try to steer clear of politics — but you, my friend? Your very existence is political.”
Jaime crossed his arms defensively. “So what are you saying? You’ll let me go but, oops, it’s in a place where I’ll end up murdered? Great choices, thanks.”
“I know you have no reason to trust me, Jaime, but what I’m saying is, if you are planning to sign up with someone else, just check with me first. Or even,” he looked pained, “talk to Captain Yoon. She can help you vet any potential employers. She has a good eye for avoiding trouble.” He sighed. “Probably why she ran out of patience with me.”
He stared moodily into his mug, and Jaime figured the meeting was at an end.
“Okay,” Jaime said, standing up. “I’ll think about it.”
Back in Rylan’s quarters, with the ship’s comms announcing docking, Jaime pulled on his coat, filling up the pockets once again with everything he had. Just in case. He glanced around the small space, wondering if he would ever see it again.