Out

A series about Mars

by Daniel E. Machado

Chapter 30

    "You finally get her down?" Fred looks up from his tablet as Blade quietly closes the bedroom door.
    "Uh huh." She whispers. "I think Shorty’s pretty excited about her field-trip tomorrow." Returning to her tiny kitchenette Blade tidies up the last of the dinner dishes. After an E shipboard eating commons food Blade is still rediscovering the wonders of cooking. And territorial or not, sexually stereotypical or not, Blade loves and has become highly protective of her diminutive domestic domain. And Fred, though he still loves to pitch in and toss around the pots and pans, does so strictly at Blade's discretion. A fact he has come to both live with and enjoy. There’s something intrinsically wonderful about a beautiful woman making all sorts of joyful kitchen noises emanating mouth tempting aromas that few men can resist. Not to mention a bright beautiful child to pester you endlessly with adoration.
    I will miss this. Fred sighs back down at the coded specs on his tablet display. I will miss this very much.
    "Funny how Atlantis somehow came up with a suit to fit." Fred laughs. "Shorty's a good five kilos light. I take it they wants to do another little post-up on her?"
    "You don’t approve?" Blade asks, slipping the last plate up into the cabinet as she turns to set her damp red checkered dish-towel down on the counter. Fred looks up somewhat startled to realize he's offended her.
    "Truth to tell, cuz, I was just trying to be cleaver."
    "That’s just sounds like you being polite. That's the kind of bullshit I get when you think my hair looks stupid. I want a real answer, Fred. Do you, or do you not, think I give Atlantis Corp too much archive access to my daughter?" Slowly dropping her solid Earthborn curves down on the couch next to him Blade squirms down into the small couch's tiny flat throw-pillows, arms up behind her head, her lingering one-sixth-g decent almost cinimagraphicly surreal.
    That ain’t fair, woman. Ask a man a serious question and then plop down all cuddly at the end of the couch.
    "A real answer, huh?" Fred thumbs off his tablet and sets the thin black cerametal rectangle down on the end table next to him. "Let's see."
    "Oh, come on." Blade sounds as much frustrated as disbelieving. "You must have some opinion on the subject or you wouldn’t have asked me the question like that."
    "Me?" Eye-brows raised and an open-fingered hand to his chest in mock surprise. "Me, say something stupid and insensitive in a vain attempt to sound clever? Me? Why, never in my life!"
    "Shush!" Blade hisses. "You’ll wake Roselene."
    "We talking about the same little girl who slept half way through planetary entry?" Fred quietly teases. "The same little girl who regularly use to sleep the night away while John and I played thirty-second-a-turn cut-throat chess until zero-two-hundred, and you gave running commentary?"
    "Ssss..." And with a flirtive grin Blade flicks the top of her bare foot up under his knee. "I'm serious, Fred. I hate to say this, but sometimes I think you get to spend more time with my daughter than I do. So, your advice is important to me. Is all this publicity hurting Roselene?"
    "I think…"
    I think; when in doubt, play psychiatrist. Or bartender.
    At least Fred has learned something about women, or at least this woman, in the past six-hundred some days.
    "Let's take a look at this." He says at last. "How long has it been since we came planetside?"
    "About half an M, I guess."
    "Okay," Fred puts on his best innocently befuddled face. "And, how often has Atlantis Corp asked to publicly use Roselene's archives?"
    "Oh, I don’t know." Blade squints back at him for making her think, but does the math all the same. "There was right after we first came down from Phobos and they landed my biotics. Her first day at the learning center. They did the Mars’ Youngest Legal Immigrant thing. Then I guess there was her rover trip out onto one of the unfinished habitat sections with Kara and her father. And, then their little sub ride to one of the feeder pens with me. Maybe four. I think this trip to the surface makes five."
    "And, Atlantis uses the same arrangement every time? Non-intrusive public archiving with parental review and veto, and all public rights reverting back to you at the end of so many days?"
    "Pretty much." She nods. "They change the dates and locations, but that's pretty much it."
    Reaching down to where he feels it dangle just below his knee Fred lifts Blade’s foot up onto his leg and begins pressing his thumb down hard into her arch; an unacknowledged ritual as close to love-making as Fred figures the two of them are ever likely come.
    "Shorty ever mention that she's noticed any extra attention?" Pausing a moment for her to answer Fred looks over to find Blade lost in her foot's soothing ache. "As I recall, the last few times we were out in the commons and one of her archives came up on a big arena public she didn’t seem all that empressed. I think every kid at learning center has been a on the arena publics at one time or another. Atlantis Corp is big on the family thing, you know."
    "Yah, I know. That’s part of how I got us both out here in the first place. It's just that when it's Roselene’s turn it always seems so… I don’t know… somehow more. They always leave the posts up longer, and they always wind up getting more hits. Then they always mention that ‘youngest legal immigrant’ thing and I just don't want her to think… ohh..."
    "You worried Shorty's getting a distorted view of reality?" Continuing to press deeper into her arch Fred's other thumb and forefinger slowly begin to massage up around the ball of Blade's ankle before moving all along her Achilles tendon.
    "I’m worried about waking up some morning and not knowing who my daughter is. Of looking up some day to find she thinks she’s some sort of mega net-presence that I have to make appointments with. That... oh, I don’t know!" And with a limp heave Blade slips farther down into both the throw-pillows and a sullen silence. Or maybe just a pensive enjoying her foot massage. A quick calculation reveals it to be just a day or two before her period.
    Who knows? It’s hard to tell with this one!
    Well, I hate to hit her when she’s down, but…
    Swallowing hard Fred rests Blade’s foot on his leg and reaches down next to him for his tablet.
    "I, uh… guess maybe I've got the solution to at least one of your issues." Fred fakes a smile as he hands her his tablet but Blade sees he's nervous.
    "Which issue is that?"
    "The one about me spending more time with your daughter than you."
    "Fred, I never meant..."
    "Yah, I know." He interrupts with a whispered hush. "Here, read. You’ll see."
    It takes Blade’s expression only seconds to fall from confusion to consternation, then straight on through to outright regret.
    "So soon? But I thought…"
    "You said it yourself, Blade. We’ve been down here for nearly half an M already. Three weeks short of a year to be exact." He said year instead of E, but Blade still understands. "They only said I might be planetside for an M. No one ever really said for sure."
    Feeling somewhat dazed by this unexpected news Blade again stares down in disbelief at Fred's travel authorization. Her faithful cousin, and nearly constant companion since first leaving Earth, is to report in twenty-one sols to AeroDyn's offices at Asimov Interplanetary and return to Phobos Station for transport out to Earth Mining League's Alpha Station and permanent ship assignment.
    Fred is finally going out to the Belt.
    "When'd you get this?" Her words suspicious.
    "In my posts this morning."
    "So, why didn't you tell me this morning?" Her eyes hint at betrayal.
    "Well, call it blind vanity, but I'd the vaguest notion you might actually hate the news of me leaving and I didn’t want to mess up your day."
    "Well, you did, you big goof." And, taking a playful jab at his leg with the toes of her other foot Blade leaves it resting near his knee in reasonable hopes of an offsetting massage. "But, thanks anyway for not leaving me to dwell on it all shift."
    "No worries, littl'cuz." As reaching down Fred takes up Blade's other foot, firmly pressing his stiffened fingertips into her unmassaged arch. "A good night's sleep and I'm sure the whole thing will sort itself out."
    "Yah, right." Blade moans.
    "Have I ever lied to you before?" Fred chuckles and continues his massage as a tiny long held mischief begins to tickle Blade.
    You shouldn't have mentioned lies, Fredy Boy.
    "So," Squinting over, her voice carrying all the sass of her smile. "I take it that this means that all your hard work and study has finally paid off."
    "I guess so." Fred nods quietly, then flashes up one of his big dumb-ass grins.
    "Still not talking, huh? Well, I know it wasn’t your test scores that's kept you grounded." She studies his spacer impassive face. "It's impossible to live with a man for nearly an M and not know what he is and isn't good at."
    With a shrug Fred silently stares down at his slowly moving fingers.
    "I’ve seen how you pilot in the sims." She persists. "Even Johnny said you’re good, and he's never even seen you fly."
    "He did?"
    "Yes." Her eyes flash angry embarrassment. "But, don’t you ever tell him I told you that."
    "Wouldn’t dream of it." He chuckles. Then, Blade's tiny mischief tickles Fred. This whole total corporate secrecy thing has had him bugged from the very beginning. He hates lying to anyone, most especially to Blade. And, now that the situation had been remedied there seems even less reason.
    "Let me ask you something." Fred ponders as if out of the Blue. "Legally speaking we’re still sort of married, right? I mean, the temporary family-unit agreement we both made back on Earth is still valid. And, even though we no longer actually live together, I’m still your daughter’s legal guardian, and your legal co-parent. And, then that legal-spouse thing on the Flying Jib. So, legally speaking we're sort of married, right?"
    "Yes?" Failing to grasp even the first hint of Fred’s point Blade slowly begins to sit up, politely withdrawing her foot. "And...?"
    "Well, just that the only person I might legally share any confidential corporate information with would be my legal spouse because legally a husband and wife are both bound by the same non-disclosure agreements. It’s a stretch, but considering the flexibility of the marriage contract these days it would probably stand up in court."
    "Really?" Blade bounces across the couch at him. This little mystery has been absolutely killing her for months. The hottest gossip on Mars. "Spill! You've just got to tell me what’s up with AeroDyn?"
    "Well," Conspiring toward her in a whisper. "I suppose you’ve noticed a sudden lack of icetroids skimming the atmosphere lately."
    "How could I?" Blade shakes her head. "I've never seen one. The locals tell me how they use to see these huge bands of water vapor criss-crossing the sky. Supposed to be really beautiful at sunset." Staring at Fred's honest face, his dark brows and gawky nose, Blade finds herself mysteriously drawn to this man she suddenly appreciates so much more than she'd so far realized. "But, what's that got to do with you being grounded?"
    "Well, they, uh..." Committed to telling the truth, still he hesitates. "AeroDyn stopped sending icetroids in because they had a malfunction on one of their triships."
    "A single triship grounded over a hundred-thousand top-flight pilots? That must have really been some real good malfunction."
    "I never said how many… "
    "Hey, just because you and I have never discussed the subject doesn’t mean I don't pay attention. Word around the Tower is that AeroDyn's got over a hundred-thousand veteran pilots on planet. Latest joke going around is that AeroDyn bought out Asimov as a retirement complex. One of our long-time shuttle pilots even told us that the Guild has more Class-One Belt pilots dirtside right now than ever on record."
    "Seems you’re getting better gossip than me."
    "Yah, but it only tells me what, not why. So spill!" Grinning expectantly Blade gives Fred's shoulder a playful shove. Then with a smiling shrug of her eyes. "Tell me."
    No doubts where Shorty gets her wheedling skills.
    "Well," Still he hesitates. "This engine problem was with a reactor."
    "Yes?" Blade’s brow cocks, but she holds her question.
    "And, it went critical sort of close to one of a main EML station."
    "How close?"
    "Very."
    "Anyone dead?"
    "Couple hundred... maybe."
    "Hundred?" A limp fist thumps Fred's shoulder as Blade's lip sprouts a pathetic pout.
    "Uh huh." His head bobs configuration.
    "So, how come this is the first I've ever heard? This isn't like back in the old days of the nanite plague when they were all the time dying out here by the hundreds. I mean, I was up on a half-dozen nets most of one day for just getting a little bit of waste-reactant on my finger-tips." She tells Fred in disbelief. "Imagine what would happen if a couple hundred people got blown up on a major space station? The entire system would know about it in hours."
    "Imagine what would happen if it got out that the system's largest mining operation and second largest corporation was suing the system's first largest corporation, and that lawyers for a group of several thousand surviving next-of-kins, plus a large portion of the population at general, were suing them both?"
    "I imagine a lot of rich lawyers."
    "And, the rest of us out of work. The Security Council has said 'amen' and 'now take this out back' because security has always been more important to those guys than the niceties of civic."
    "So, just exactly how many orbital ship reactors are faulty? Do I need to worry next time I run up to Phobos run to sign for some biotics?"
    "No. It was just the last few batches of mining triships out of GM/GE's Utopia complex. Unfortunately there were a whole lot of mining T3s out there. The reason there haven't been dropping any icetroids in lately is that AeroDyn has been using every serviceable triship they have to mine metals for manufacture. Icetroids and teraforming have always been future investment for them. Just icing on the cake. Now that most of the fleet has either been refitted or replaced they're sending us all back out."
    "You’re not just going out there just to get yourself killed, are you?" Blade tugs at his jumper sleeve.
    "No! Who, me?" Fred dismisses into Blade's sadly floating eyes. "Wouldn’t dream of it. Having much to much fun. Besides, if I got myself killed then whatever would our dear sweet little Rosy say?"
    "Yes." Blade's face falls. "Whatever will our dear sweet little Rosy say? You know she’s going to miss you terribly, Fred. We both always knew that you were going out to the Belt, but this is still going to crush her." The maternal mantle – the instinctive assumption of a child's pain, whether real or imagined – again weighs heavy on Blade. Or, maybe the pain is her own and just less painful to project on Roselene.
    "My poor baby."
    "Ahh, yah… That’s sort of why I was hoping we could break this one to her together. The last time we all thought I was leaving things got... well, weird. And, the last thing I want is to leave Shorty here with all kinds of abandonment issues."
    "Well," Blade slumps back into the couch, this time leaving both feet tucked up under her. "At least we have the better part of a month to get her use to the idea."
    Then Blade notices Fred's face.
    "Now what?"
    "Well…" Looking all of the little boy about to ask his mother if he can go outside in the snow and play with the big kids Fred clears the final bit of hesitation from his throat. "I, uh, thought that seeing as I’d be out in the Belt for the next foreseeable future and probably won’t have the opportunity of standing on too many planets for a while that it might be worth the effort to take a little look around this one before I go."
    "So, you'll do what?" Blade laughs at him in disbelief. "Take a guided-tour of Martian Merriot’s?"
    "Not quite." Fred manages a grin. "Old Buck says he’ll take me overland to Asimov. Back through some really old canyons he says will all be under water soon. Sort of a last blast geological camp-out. Even bought a pair of surface boot for my EVA suit. Good ones too. The projections show it's only about three or four days overland to Asimov. I figure throw in a couple extra for sight-seeing, and just in case that crazy old fart and ancient his stand-alone equipment gets us lost. Do you mind?"
    "Sir," The smile that warms Blade’s face in turn warms the face of a man so much more than her friend, yet so much less than her husband. "After all the wonderful helpful things you’ve done for my daughter and me, a little camp-out with the boys seems the very least that you deserve. After you get to Asimov we'll fly out and see you off." Leaning forward Blade rests her elbow up onto Fred’s shoulder, consciously drawing in on the man's warmth and constant support.
    "Fredy?"
    "Bladie?" Glancing a shy grin at her he quickly looks away.
    "Fred, have I ever told you how just exactly much I appreciate you?"
    "On occasion."
    "Well, again -- and just for the record -- I truly, truly do." And leaning forward Blade presses the soft warmth of her lips against Fred's stubble scratched cheek.
    "Thanks." He nods a whisper.
    "I'm going to bed now." A moist closeness of her breath feels warm against his skin.
    "Good night." He nods.
    "Good-night." Kissing his cheek once again, this time as Roselene might with a bit more force and much more playfulness, Blade lifts herself as if lightly suspended on strings and strolls sleepily past Fred's outstretched legs.
    "Don't study to late." She whispers passing through the bedroom door.
    "I won't." His lips mumble as if in some hypnotic daze caught between love, lust, friendship, family, paternal pride and the growing realization that the fast approaching fulfillment of his life's goal is just about to take him far and away from each and every one of these. After silently staring for nearly an hour down at his travel authorization Fred absently thumbs off his tablet, tucking it into his jumper's thigh pouch as he pulls himself up ready to take the short walk down the now empty corridor and up two levels to his tiny bachelor's studio. Then, and then only for an instant, he hears a stifled secreted sound not quite lost in Atlantis Tower's dull constant moan. Fred hears Blade cry.

Chapter 31

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