Interlude: Voices in the Dark, Part 1
"Hey, Mom!" Quentin said as he darted into his house.
If his mom had anything to say, the thirteen-year-old boy didn't hear it as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. His dog, a brown spaniel named Toby who'd been waiting for his boy to return from school ever since that morning, ran up the stairs after him.
They rushed into Quentin's room, lavishly decorated with clothes, paper, gadgets, and the occasional toy that he wasn't ready to give up on just yet (even though, technically speaking, he was too old and too cool to be playing with toys). He tossed his bag onto his unmade bed; as always, the dog followed it.
"You're not supposed to jump on the bed!" Quentin said, giving Toby an enthusiastic petting as he leaned in to let the dog lick his face.
Having been presented with no reason to get off the bed, Toby stayed put.
"Rickie Kohala's been talking smack all day," Quentin informed his dog. "Let's frag 'im!"
Toby, who seemed to be in favor of any plan that involved additional pettin's, wagged his tail.
Sadly for Toby, fragging Quentin's classmate did not involve additional pettin's.
Quentin threaded his way through the adolescent debris to his computer stand, where he flipped on the power and put on his SmartGoggles™. The login screen appeared, and vanished when he pressed his thumb to a pad attached to his machine.
A status box informed him he had a new message waiting. He almost ignored it in his haste to get Ultra-Heroes Diamond started, but then he noticed the sender.
"Oh, sweet!" he said, giving a quick hand signal that his computer interpreted as a command to play the message.
The goggles layed the image onto Quentin's field of vision. He saw a spaceship's cabin, as viewed from the wall in the bunk nook. Had the bunk been out, he would have been looking down at it; instead, it was folded into the wall. In its place were a slide-out desk and chair.
The chair was occupied by a short, perky white girl with cropped blond hair, wearing close-fitting slacks and a sleeveless T. She wouldn't have looked out-of-place at Quentin's school -- albeit at least three grades ahead of him -- even though she was actually fourteen years older.
"'Sup, Q?" she asked, smiling as she looked into the camera.
Quentin smiled back, the excitement of a new message making him shudder. "Hey, Reeda," he answered the recording.
"How ya been, buddy? Just wanted to take the time to drop you a line. 'Specially since I'm heading over your way."
His heart raced. "Sweet!"
"Maybe I'll get a chance to get a look at that big-ass house of yours, huh? Meet that little furball mutt in person? Not sure if I'm going to wind up going too far in-system; hell, I'm not even committed to stopping by Alcen A. If I can score some work by the B, that's where we'll probably stay. Geez, I wouldn't even turn down a job at Proxima, if I get a nibble there. But ... look, tell ya what, I'll make it happen, 'kay? I'll get you some more dates when I can, and let me know if there's any time that sucks ass. Been too long, bud. And if your mom says you guys are too Upper-Crusty now to be associating with a degenerate tramp like me ... hell with it. Sneak out. Tell her you're going to see that hottie girlfriend of yours."
Quentin laughed. He wondered if he ought to introduce Danuwa to Odrida; after all, Dani was his girlfriend, and Odrida was his oldest friend. But then again, Dani always got so edgy when he started talking about Reeda. She'd even accused him of having a crush on her; yeah, right!
He'd ask Reeda; she knew how girls thought.
"Oh, yeah, before I forget ... okay, sorry bud, but there's no way in hell I'm taking you on as crew before you're out of high school."
Damn! Oh, well, he hadn't been counting on it anyway.
"Sorry. And it's not just because I'd get busted for child labor laws -- though, for the record, I would. Finish high school. Yes, it's bullshit, but you'll accidentally learn some stuff worth knowing. Remember that time I cobbled together an oxygen generator based on what I'd learned in science class?
"After that?" She laughed. "Bud, I'm having a hell of a time planning five days in advance, let alone five years. Between me, you, and the dog, I really don't know if I'll still be flying by then. I hope I will, but ... it's hard, man. The money's tight. You'd be amazed at how much cred you have to part with for fusion thrusters and a jump drive. Really didn't have a lot of money left after I bought the ship, and it's not easy to find paying customers."
She laughed again, and looked slightly embarrassed. "That's just a big bucket of 'duh,' isn't it? What was I expecting? Chartered spaceships aren't in big demand, and the folks who can shell-out that kind of coin are usually looking for something more luxurious than a locker room in space. Our cargo capacity is dick, so there's not much money to be made there -- unless we wanna go over to the dark side and start smuggling 'spice.'"
Her face turned grim. "Which ain't gonna happen. Seriously. I'd rather sell Mitch and become Miss Happy CorpDrone than pull that shit."
She sighed. "Honestly? I think it's gonna happen. Don't get me wrong, man; I love owning my own ship. Love it, love it, love it. The freedom ... it's freakin' indescribable. I knew making enough scratch to keep flying was gonna be a challenge, and I got no regrets on that score. Right now, I'm just trying to keep this crazy-ass thing going for as long as I can. I mean, I'm a goddamn spaceship captain! An independent! How many people get to do that, even if it only winds up being for a couple of years?
"But ... tell ya what. If me and my boy Mitch are still an item when you're done with high school, I'll give you an extended tour of this little corner of the galaxy as a graduation present.
"As for crew ... it's a small ship, and crew openings are few and far between. I've been going for over a year now, and the only guy I've had to replace was back when Ced Wong got sent to jail for drunk 'n' disorderly. And experience does figure into it; Izzy didn't have dick for experience on a ship, true, but he was part of the maintenance crew on that hab where he grew up, so he already knew the ropes of hard-vac survival, life-support maintenance, and basic mechanical repair."
She lowered her voice. "And even then ... it's kinda been a handful. Ham -- my Chief Engineer -- has been bitching pretty much non-stop ever since I hired Izzy. Granted, Ham's the kinda guy who's only gonna stop bitching when he's dead, but I think he's a little more serious than usual. With the benefit of hindsight, it might not have been such a great idea, but what the hell; Izzy learns fast, and he's done everything we've asked.
"So ... crew thing ain't likely. But hey, you graduate and you still have a highrider bug up your butt, I'll do what I can to help you out. God only knows where I'll be or what I'll be doing, but I'm sure I'll know some people.
"Anyway, what's going on with me ... nothing too interesting. Nothing I'm prepared to discuss without better encryption, at least," she said with a grin and a wink. "Chauffeured this really jumpy dude to a place called Kane Micro -- sleazy goddamn port, by the way. Woulda liked to know his story -- except I worry that might have made me an accessory to something, you know?
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you something; I've noticed that every time something bad or dangerous crops up, I keep flashing back to Mitch's basement. Do you ever do that? It's like ... you ever run into a bully giving you shit or a teacher busting your ass or whatever and think 'I ain't afraid of you; I've walked through fire a hell of a lot hotter than this.' Like ... you've already used-up just about all your Scared and aren't going to waste any on this dickweed, you know?"
Quentin nodded. He had a pretty good idea of she was talking about.
She laughed. "Maybe I'm just a freak. But that's no secret, right?
"I have to burn; got me a ship to run and stuff. Take care. Tell your mom I said hi, and give that dog a pet for me, 'kay?"
She waved goodbye and vanished, Quentin's room coming back into view.
Quentin smiled; Odrida was an awesome friend to have. Nobody else in his class was swapping mail with a spaceship captain, that was for damn sure!
And, of course, it didn't hurt that she was way hot, too. In a just-friends, would-never-date-a-thirteen-year-old-in-a-million-years kinda way, of course.
He had to reply to her message.
He gave the hand signal to start Ultra-Heroes Diamond. The rotating image of his avatar appeared, a black-clad supervillain festooned with skulls and bulging with muscles well beyond the ability of either God or science to create. "Search," he said, "Vorpal Buzzsaw Man!"
He had to reply to her message later.
His computer obediently found the neighborhood in Justice City where his arch-nemesis was hiding.
Right now, he still had to teach Richie that nobody talks smack about the Mayberry Marauder and gets away with it.
The camera turns on.
It focuses on a dark-complected man in his early thirties, small and lean with buzz-cut hair. Standing at rigid attention, he is wearing an Interstellar Marines dress uniform: a black-brimmed white cap, black jacket, white gloves, blue slacks, and shining black shoes. The jacket has brass buttons, red piping, and a high blue collar. It's bound by a white belt, and bears a Staff Sergeant's stripes on the sleeves, a cluster of multi-colored ribbons over the left breast, and the nametag "Morgan" over the right.
The man is standing in the cabin of a small ship, his bunk visible behind him. Everything about the man and the small room are immaculately tidy.
He throws the camera a crisp salute. The camera zooms in closer, as it has been programmed to do.
He holds his face grimly still for a long moment before a soft smile appears.
"Hey, Andy."
His smile broadens a bit. "That time of year again, ain't it. You're the only reason I ever put on the Dress Black anymore, you know. You always said I looked sexy as hell in it. And the primary purpose of any dress uni is to get the jarhead wearing it laid, right?
"Been a busy year. Still here on Mayberry Mitch, still got the same palatial quarters -- a whole goddamn cabin for one Marine. What am I, an officer?
"Had a nasty situation recently -- had to inflict some GBI on two related occasions, the first requiring me to discharge my sidearm. No fatalities, though. On purpose. So is that a good thing that my life in the Corps is coming in handy for more than bar fights and staring-down tough guys, or does this mean I'm sliding headlong into a life of crime? Damned if I know, bro. I'll let you know this time next year.
"Don't expect to be talking at you from these quarters by then, but hell, said the same thing last year. Still worried, though. As a private business concern, this ship's still going downhill; just isn't going down as fast as I figured.
"I'm still flying with that little chippie I met in flight school," he says with a smile. "Yeah, Staff Sergeant Vu Morgan is still serving under a Coast Guard Airman. I expect the universe to be ending any day now."
His face turns serious. "Actually, Odrida's not so bad; hardly the worst CO you or me have ever had. Keeps her head, doesn't scare easy, stands by her people. I don't mind looking out for her; she's a sweet kid."
He grimaces. "That's the problem, isn't it. I think of my CO as a 'sweet kid.' How the fuck am I supposed to take orders from a 'sweet kid?'" He sighs. "Well, I'm a civilian now. Maybe that's good enough out here.
"I'll say this for her, though. I may think she's going under financially, but she's fighting it with everything she has. What was it you said? About some fights being worth fighting even when you know you can't win? She'd agree, bro. This rinky-dink little operation means everything to her, and she's not letting go, not while she's got a gram of fight left in her. Gotta respect that. I got no problem watching her back.
"Even if this isn't exactly where I figured I'd be three years ago."
He sighs, deeply. "Didn't figure on a lot of things. I guess it was inevitable. You and me ... that was a fight worth fighting. I regret that it had to happen, but looking back, the only thing I'd change is I'd tell you to get your ass behind better cover on that freighter. If you'd come through that okay, only thing that would have changed is that rat fuck bird colonel would have run us both out. Doesn't make any difference, in a way -- two motherfucking 'Other Than Honorable' discharges instead of one.
"But in a way," he says, his eyes filling with emotion, "it would have made all the difference in the world. I'm not saying I can't handle life after the Corps, I think I'm doing all right, but ... god damn I wish I had you at my side."
There is a long silence, as the man in the picture wills himself to not shed any tears.
He succeeds.
"I love you," he says in a quiet voice, "and I will not forget. Semper Fi, my brother. Rest in peace."
The camera turns off.
Moments later, the video it recorded has been deleted.
