Battle in the Belt (Stark Raven Voyages Book 3) Page 4

  "Of course," Chan said. "Bring him in."

  "You'll have to keep the gravity down," Marcus added apologetically.

  Chan nodded. "We all know what a long haul in a small ship feels like." He raised his voice. "Come on aboard, Piotr. You're welcome on the Raven."

  The swarthy man came aboard, stumbling a bit when his feet hit the deck. He wobbled when he walked, clearly unused to a floor that was "down." He was smiling and genial, effusive in his thanks, and Joss could almost believe that the brief flash of rage in his eyes had been her imagination.

  Almost.

  Well, prospectors lived a precarious life, isolated for months or even years at a stretch, at the mercy of any ship that might come by. There were pirates who preyed on the men and women who eked out a stark existence on drifting chunks of rock. Flying from one mine site to another, murdering the miners and stealing their stockpile of precious metal, was infinitely easier than actual mining. Mistrust and hostility were practically mandatory traits for prospectors.

  Piotr spent an hour on the Raven, washing, eating, and talking. When he wasn't in the shower he chattered non-stop, about everything from spacesuit design to asteroid composition to the latest music trends on Mars and the plight of the elephant herds back on Earth. He seemed to have several months' worth of pent-up words that simply had to come out.

  Chan, it turned out, had been busy on Xiao Station while Liz had been in the hotel and Joss had been at the movies. He'd stocked up on fresh food. He prepared a small feast, and the others nibbled while Piotr devoured a green salad, a couple of apples, and three fried eggs. The prospector insisted on talking while he chewed, so Joss left the galley while he ate.

  She was sitting at a bridge console when the bridge door slid open and Piotr came through. His gaze went from her to the open hatch in the ceiling, and a flicker of suspicion crossed his face. His smile returned a moment later as Chan came through the doorway behind him, carrying a box.

  "I'll just be right back," Piotr said, and sprang up through the ceiling hatch. The hatch cover on the far side swung shut on the habitat side.

  "I guess he doesn't want us seeing where his stash is," Chan murmured with a wry grin.

  "Hmm?"

  Chan indicated the box. "He's buying this."

  The box was full of fresh produce, mostly fruit, with a few carrots, an onion, and some eggs mixed in.

  "Are we getting a good price for it?"

  He grinned. "So good I'm embarrassed to admit how much he's paying."

  The hatch cover swung open and Piotr dropped into the bridge. He poured several small nuggets of gold and platinum into Chan's palm, then took the box. "Thank you, Captain."

  His torrent of words seemed to have died down. The natural taciturnity of a prospector was reasserting itself, and his gaze went to the hatch above him. Joss, feeling an impulse to smooth things over after inadvertently offending him, searched for something to say. Her eyes fell on a glint of gold showing against the hair on his chest. He wore a little gold cross in a circle on a chain around his neck.

  She pointed at the cross. "Is that the symbol for the Church of Judas?"

  The glance he gave her was sharper than she expected. "Yes. Yes, it is."

  Joss spread her hands. "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

  "We're a little sensitive," said Marcus behind her. He and Liz were entering the bridge. "Not everyone understands the Church."

  "There's nothing wrong with the Church of Judas," Piotr muttered.

  "I never quite understood it," Liz said. "Wasn't Judas kind of a bad guy?" She shrugged. "I don't really know any of that Bible stuff very well."

  Piotr was scowling, but Marcus just smiled. "Relax, Piotr. We're among friends, and we have an opportunity to educate them, and spread a little understanding." To the others he said, "Judas was an apostle of Christ the Savior. He betrayed Christ. Our detractors claim we worship Judas the Betrayer, so we must all be terrible people." He spread his hands in an expressive gesture, as if embracing all the foibles of humankind. "It's how they justify things like the atrocity aboard Iscariot Station."

  Joss thought of Edward and the other survivors, subdued and fearful as they climbed from their escape pod onto the Raven.

  "They're missing the point, though," said Marcus. "We don't worship Judas. We decry what he did to our savior." With his intense eyes and long golden hair he had the look of an ancient saint or apostle as he shook his head gravely. "We decry it, and we remember it. Judas embodies Man at his weakest. He reminds us of the danger that constantly surrounds us, the danger of our own ill-considered actions. The danger of weakness, of vanity, of fear, of greed. He reminds us of the terrible harm that we can do."

  His voice was low, deep, hypnotic, and Joss found herself leaning forward, hanging on every word. The others did the same.

  "Judas," said Marcus, "was not trying to destroy the savior of all mankind. He was no big-picture thinker, our Judas." Marcus shook his head. "No, Judas was thinking of his own immediate profit, and his own immediate safety. Perhaps he thought as far as the welfare of his family, or the welfare of his people who had to find a way to live among the Romans. And so he dealt a terrible blow to all of humanity, without ever thinking about humanity for a moment. We remember his mistake, which is a mistake all men make. We remember his debt, which is the debt of all men. It is his errors that guide us, his errors that have the seeds of a valuable lesson for all of humanity."

  There was a long moment of silence. Then Piotr said gruffly, "Quite right. Couldn't have said it better myself." For a moment his teeth flashed in a wry grin. "Actually, I couldn't have said it half as well. I should write that down." He nodded to Chan. "Thank you, Captain. Miss Liz. Miss Joss. Marcus, it was good to see you, as always." He tucked the box of produce carefully under one arm, then sprang up and grabbed the edge of the hatch. He managed with difficulty to squirm through without dropping anything, and the hatch at last clanged shut.

  Chan couldn't quite hide his satisfaction as he put the nuggets in the bridge safe.

  "Well done, Captain," Liz said as she closed the docking hatch and returned to the helm station. "How much fruit did you stock?"

  "Let's just say we shouldn't pass by any more prospectors in the next week or so. Oh, I have some nectarines that won't be ripe for a couple of weeks at least. So we've got trade goods for a while."

  "Fantastic." Liz turned her attention to Marcus. "Andromeda One now?"

  "Yes, please."

  Liz maneuvered the Raven around Betty's bulk and headed into the void.

  ###

  "How about this one?"

  "Mars again." Liz squirmed in the narrow confines of her bunk, coming precariously close to tumbling onto the deck, and slid the sheet down so Marcus could see the rest of the scar. His finger traced a series of little white crescents from just below her shoulder blade to a spot just above her hip. "The miners on the planitia wear these hob-nailed boots. He blindsided me and then stomped me when I was face-down on the floor."

  His fingers moved several centimeters lower. "Any more bits I might be interested in?"

  "Pervert."

  "That's not what you said half an hour ago."

  She giggled. "True. Okay, here's one. Last one from Mars, I think." She squirmed around, started to fall out of the bunk, and clutched Marcus's arm, giving a low squeal. She held on as she wormed her way around until she was facing him. He had quite nice arms, and she didn't mind squeezing them. "Here, look at this." She extended a pale leg from beneath the sheet.

  "Don't mind if I do." He propped himself up on one elbow. "It's a fine leg, and I like examining it." He rested his fingers lightly on her thigh. "But am I looking for anything in particular?"

  "Just below my knee. On the side of my leg."

  "Ah, there it is." He shook his head. "It must have hurt getting that one."

  "Not at the time." Liz looked at the pale smear of scar that ran almost to her ankle. "It stung a bit afterward." She shook
her head, remembering. "Little punk construction worker. He wanted to get into my jumpsuit."

  "Well, he had good taste, at least."

  "You don't know what the women in Fontana Crater are like," she said, and giggled again. "I was the hottest thing under the dome. Because I didn't have a moustache."

  He chuckled, his chest vibrating against her hand. It was a good feeling, and she felt a pleasant glow in her stomach, entirely different from the heat of half an hour before. Marcus was pretty enough, but he was surprisingly easy to be around, too.

  "The little punk got pushy, did he?"

  She shook her head. "Not at first. He gave me flowers, at first."

  Marcus's eyebrows rose.

  "He stole the flowers, but still, it was a nice gesture. However, I had to turn him down."

  "And then he got rough?"

  "No." She scowled, remembering. "Then he started spreading lies about me behind my back. So I walked into the caf one day at dinner time and I blackened both his eyes for him." She saw Luke's face again in her mind's eye, the look of astonished dismay in the instant before her fist crashed into his cheekbone. She tasted the familiar mix of fury and regret, and asked herself for the thousandth time if she should have showed a little restraint. He'd deserved the black eyes. He really had. But he hadn't deserved everything else.

  "So what happened?" Marcus's voice was gentle, and she snuggled a bit closer to him.

  "I shouldn't have done it in front of everyone." She curled her lip. "Of course, the little shit was telling everyone in the dome that I…" Marcus stroked her arm, and she took a deep breath. "It was too much for him. The humiliation. In front of everyone." She tilted her head so he couldn't see her face. "He got drunk that night. Then he got himself a shank and he came after me."

  "How in space did he stab you in the leg?"

  "I kicked him. He came at me, I booted him in the stomach, and he went down in a heap. He dropped the knife, and I started kicking him where he lay there on the floor. And blood kept splashing him, every time I kicked. At first I thought I'd really hurt him." She shook her head at the memory. "I finally figured out it was me. The little cockroach got in one good cut before I knocked him down."

  The sight of her own blood had infuriated her. She'd have killed him if a couple of miners hadn't dragged her back. But the damage to Luke was already done. He was guilty of attempted murder, and his life as he knew it was over. As far as she knew he was still doing hard labor in a Martian prison.

  The lies had been his idea, and the knife as well. No one had made him do it. He was the author of his own misfortune.

  But there were times, late at night, when Liz remembered a smiling boy holding out a handful of stolen flowers and telling her she was beautiful, and she was ashamed.

  Marcus sensed her mood and stayed silent, his fingers stroking her upper arm. She snuggled against his chest – it was almost impossible not to in the tiny bunk – and touched a faint line above his left nipple. "What's this from?"

  The muscles of his chest moved, tensed under the skin. "Surgical," he said. "They had to go inside to put my clavicle back together." His voice was different, and she realized she'd touched a nerve, like with her story about Luke.

  "There used to be a little station called Dorado, a couple of degrees over from Ceres," he told her. "Grubby little place. Low ceilings and ants everywhere. But still, it was home." His words were light, but she could feel the tension in his muscles, hear it in his voice. "It started out as a Church of Judas community, but we made the mistake of expanding. Taking in anyone who wanted to rent rooms."

  He fell silent. She let the moment stretch out, then said gently, "What happened?"

  "Scumbag fundamentalists happened." His voice was cold and flat. "If they didn't like us, all they had to do was live somewhere else. I mean, it's a big belt, right? But no." She could feel the muscles of his chest, rigid under her fingertips. "They had to save the solar system from the scourge of Judasites. So they moved in. Paid their rent, even. And they packed their room full of explosives, and they blew Dorado in half."

  "Oh, God." She shuddered, closing her eyes, and felt him shrug.

  "It was years ago. And I was lucky."

  She opened her eyes and tilted her head back so she could see his face. "You must be furious. I would want to kill somebody."

  "No!" For a moment there was real anger in his face. Then his features smoothed. "No, that's their way. Not mine. I won't become, what? Some kind of fundamentalist clone? I'm not killing anybody."

  "But—"

  "Besides, there's no one to take vengeance on. The ones who did it all died in the explosion." His face creased in disgust. "They wanted to be real Christian martyrs, I guess. So they went with manual detonation."

  Liz stared at him, trying to sort out her feelings.

  "It's over," he said. "The people who did it are all dead. And I'm alive."

  "But… how do you deal with it?"

  "By living," he said simply. "I embrace life completely. For example, when I find myself in a bunk, mashed up against a naked girl, I don't spend my time moping over past injustices. I seize the moment." He demonstrated exactly what he meant.

  "Hey! Seize that moment gently. Yes, like that. Now seize the other moment. It's getting lonely. Mmm. Yes." She giggled against his chest, and there was no more talk of scars and bombs and death.

  ###

  It was long hours later when she woke to find him easing himself from the bunk. He kissed her and headed for the shower, and she stretched, luxuriating in the elbow room. When the water started, though, she drew a datapad from a little pocket mounted above her bunk and keyed in a quick search for Dorado.

  The Dorado Atrocity, the news feeds called it. She'd never heard of it. She'd been in deep space when it happened, and by the time she got back to Mars it was old news, just one more calamity in the wild and wooly belt.

  Reading the story made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The attack had been an act of cold-blooded mass murder. The terrorists had requested a particular room, one that shared a wall with the station chapel. They had set off the explosive at the start of Sunday services.

  Liz thought of all those people gathered together to pray, while diabolical enemies waited on the other side of a bulkhead, working themselves up to an apocalyptic suicide. She shivered and rubbed her arms to settle the goosebumps.

  A dull rage simmered in the pit of her stomach, a desire to lash out at the maniacs responsible. But the maniacs in question were dead, and if there were others involved, planners or helpers who yet lived, there was no way to identify them or find them. There could be no revenge.

  How much worse must it be for Marcus, she wondered? How long had it taken him to let go, to move on, to build a new life that held something besides hate? In his place, Liz thought she might have lost herself completely to fury.

  The water stopped and she put the datapad away. There was just time for a quick shower and a bite to eat before she had to dock the ship at Andromeda One. And if she was really quick, she could make it into the head before Marcus finished drying off. She could think of a few hard-to-reach places that he might need a hand with. She slid from the bunk and headed for the tiny bathroom.

  Chapter 4

  Andromeda One was built on an ambitious scale. Her creators had sliced an asteroid into three chunks and connected them with several kilometers of steel cable. The outer chunks, balancing each other as they spun in an endless lazy circle, were, for reasons lost in the mists of time, named Edward and Jacob. The center chunk, with its docking bay for ships, was named Bella. She turned endlessly in place, the pull of her two companions perfectly balanced by minute adjustments to the length of the connecting cables.

  Chan could just make out the station as a single point of light flickering in the distance when Liz said, "That's odd."

  He tried to squash a reflexive spike of stress. Not everything was about the Raven and her growing list of pursuers. Not everything
was a sign of danger. Still, his voice was tight as he said, "What do you mean?"

  "There's no radio chatter. They should have picked up our transponder signal by now." She glanced at him, took in his blank expression, and sighed. "Look, you guys really need to learn this stuff. There's more to piloting than handling the controls." She frowned at Joss, who sat at another bridge console, and turned back to Chan.

  "Every station has its own procedures, but for anything much bigger than Piotr's little floating campsite, a few things are standard. They scan for transponder signals. Usually it's automated. Sometimes they do active radar scans, too. Xiao Station even had radar beacons out so they could triangulate and get exact positions."

  "Okay," Chan said. "Aren't they doing that here?"

  Liz glanced at her screens. "I don't see any radar scans. That's not unusual. More to the point, I don't get anything on the radio." She shrugged. "There's always something. Docking instructions, at the very least. Station rules. Sometimes it's advertising. But there's always something."

  Chan's mind conjured up an image of agents of the mystery corporation hunting them, filling the control room of Andromeda One, holding guns on the crew to keep anyone from warning the Raven that they were flying into a trap. An absurd fantasy, but…

  "Liz?" he said. "Let's go into stealth mode, shall we?"

  She didn't hesitate, just tapped an icon on her screen. The transponder stopped broadcasting and the bridge lights dimmed. Another tap of her finger gave the maneuvering thrusters a little kick. The ship would be drifting sideways, her vector no longer predictable to anyone who'd been tracking her.

  "I'll do a passive scan," Joss said, and leaned over her console. She looked up. "Oh, there's a radar source. It just started up."

  "Someone noticed we went dark," said Liz. "What do you think, Captain? Active scan?"

  Chan pondered. "Why not? They know roughly where we are."