“No one is marrying him but me. And that is final.” Her voice revealed a defensive vulnerability and it made Rork’s heart ache. “I found him. He saved me, not you. I’ve lived with him for seven years now. I’ve waited seven whole years for this and I’m not taking a backseat now!”
“It will have to be for a minimum of ten years,” Mary Ellen said to Rork, “so that Barbary can’t get his hands on me, by his own rules.”
“Baby, second marriages aren’t recognized by the Earth Government or the Resettlementarians,” Lala said, her voice pleading. “They won’t give us the seastead.”
Rork covered his eyes and his voice shook. “How am I going to find you, baby? How will I know where you are if this woman doesn’t give me the information? I think her request is reasonable.”
“Reasonable?” Lala screamed.
“I just mean—” Rork started.
“Ten years?” Lala sobbed. “Why did this even happen? Why do we matter so much? Why can’t he just be happy with what he has? Why does he have to bother us? What does he want?”
“He wants me to be part of his operation. He wants to own us. He wants control and power.”
The sobbing stopped. “It’s okay. I’ll just kill her. You’ll be a widower. Yeah, that’ll fix it.”
“For Jupiter’s sake, Lala!” Rork pulled at his hair.
“A
RE
YOU
with us or what?”
Jord crossed his arms and frowned. He turned away, then turned back.
“Last chance to be a family again,” Rork added.
“We still have time.”
Rork shook his head. “I have terminal anorxoma.”
And just about every part of my body hurts like hell.
Jord laughed. “Look fine to me.”
“Who are you talking to?” Lala asked.
“I’ve been taking some meds that this lady—” Rork took the phone off conference mode. “My brother Jord.”
“You told me your whole family was dead. Was that a lie?”
“No, no, of course not. Barbary had him. I didn’t know.”
“Never lie to me, Rork.”
“I won’t. I don’t! Now just give me a few minutes here.”
“I’m getting a vision!”
Rork waited.
“Oh, is that your brother? He’s even more handsome than you are!”
Rork rolled his eyes but said nothing. He just loved hearing the sound of her voice, even if the words themselves hurt.
“A lot of people are going to die, including me. But I want to live, Rork. I want us to be together, have lots of—”
“I know! That’s what I’m working on! And you’re not going to die! Now, just hold on.”
“Don’t hang up on me!”
“Relax. You can listen to the whole thing.”
Jord cleared his throat. “What’s your plan?”
Rork studied him. He was in.
Yes!
“First, we get Dad on our side, or at least get him to stay out of it. We take out the shooters. We get the coordinates for the Cylinder, find Lala, save her, destroy the Cylinder — blow that braxpit up! We escape, lay low, be a family again, all of us. That means you, too, Mankin. All of us. We start over with new names on Earth.” He shrugged. “Simple as that.”
Jord guffawed. “No. You always were a dreamer but this is — wow — another level.”
“Aim for the stars...” Rork said with a grin.
“So you can crash on the moon? No thanks. Skip the Cylinder nonsense and I’m in. Otherwise, forget it.”
“Comfort first, like always, huh, brother?”
Jord squatted down, grabbed Rork’s shirt and forced his fist up against his little brother’s Adam’s apple. “You listen here, brother. You want this little girl here to die?” he asked pointing at the dark mound of hair huddled under Zero’s arm. “What about your buddy Zero? Mankin? Mary Ellen? Me? Let’s be honest. You don’t give a llama’s ears about me. But what about them?”
Rork put his nose within millimeters of his brother’s. He tapped his wrist to mute the connection with Lala. “This is my path. The rest of you can do what you want. Right now, I want to know who is with me.”
Everyone looked at the floor.
“Speaking of which,” Rork continued, his gaze fixed on Zero’s scalp, “I need every hand prepared to battle. That includes you, Zero. Are you hearing me?”
Zero jerked his head up, his eyes searing. “Survival for you is about this meat.” He poked Rork in the chest. “Have you forgotten everything we talked about? Survival for me is about my immortal soul. I die here, I reincarnate over there. If I damage my soul killing for your meat, I reincarnate as a lesser being. I have spent eons perfecting my soul.
I won’t jeopardize that now.”
“Where did you get this nutcase?” Jord asked.
“That nutcase got me out of more jams than you ever did!”
“Any advice?” Rork raised an eyebrow at Zero. “Give me something.”
“Maybe our paths really should have diverged back on Luna,” Zero said.
Rork deflated.
“Hello? You better not have muted me!” Lala said.
Rork unmuted her. “Just wait a second.” He muted her again.
“I want to hear everything!” she yelled.
Jord sighed. “Listen. If we can come up with a better plan then Dad will stay out of it. But it has to be a reasonable plan.” He got up and walked toward the bridge.
The wall behind Rork pushed against him. “We’re turning. Did you feel it?” he asked Zero. He stood up and walked to the bridge. “What’s going on?”
They refused to answer him. Rork leaned forward and looked out the front viewscreen.
“Is that Port Vantage?” Rork asked.
His dad turned around and pushed him back into the cargo hold. “Quiet down!”
Rork resisted. “Dad, I—”
The old man shook his head. “Dreams are dreams, son. They don’t come true. How you haven’t learned that yet, I don’t know. I tried with you but I can’t help you if you fight me. Give up already. This is not the world you want it to be. Grow up! Accept your fate.” He pushed Rork hard.
Rork stood his ground. His spine tingled with electric energy. “What are they going to do to me, Dad?” he whispered. “What did they do to you?”
The old man looked away. “We’re making a stop at Port Vantage. Sit tight. It’ll be over soon enough.” He pushed Rork again and closed the cargo bay door.
Rork stuck his fingers into the door disc to open it but there was no give. He punched the door and kicked it. “Open up!”
Lala sniffled. “If you can’t get to me in the next twenty-four hours, just forget the whole thing. Don’t worry about me. I want Rork Sollix, the real one, all to myself, not some tamed beast doing tricks for this monster. I won’t take anything less. I won’t live in a universe where anything less can exist.”
Rork unmuted her. “Lala, just—”
The line clicked and she was gone.
“I’
LL
HAVE
it open in a minute.”
Rork jammed Mankin’s multi-tool blade under the cover that protected the cargo bay door locking mechanism. It popped off and landed on his bad foot. He suppressed the scream he wanted to let out.
“Is he okay?” the little girl asked.
Rork found the right wire, cut it and reattached it to another spot on the board. The metallic bong of the separating teeth echoed through the bay.
Everyone froze.
“Uh oh,” the little girl said.
“They heard that,” Zero said.
“No, they already got off.” Mankin leaned against the door to the bridge, his ear pressed against it. “There’s been no sound for about a minute.”
Rork lay down on the floor facing the door. He pushed it up gently and risked a glance outside.
A dozen ships crowded the tiny third-class platform, a series of interlocking circles. This group was full and they’d soon move it into medium-term vacuum storage outside the magnetic atmospheric bubble. “We gotta go now!”
Rork threw open the door and ran. “Mary Ellen with me. Mankin, take Zero and Sarita. Get weapons. We meet back here in twenty minutes or less.”
Mary Ellen caught up to him and he reached for her hand. She smacked it away.
“Don’t get any ideas. This is a straight-up trade. Information for protection. Nothing more.”
They strolled casually among the docked ships. The marketplace started mere meters from where the dock ended.
They came from all over the system to Port Vantage. Nothing more than two flat platforms winched together on opposite sides of a gravitationally enhanced asteroid with a magnetically trapped atmosphere, this was where Rork’s kind of people — the small traders, mining collective administrators and farming co-op operators — came to escape Barbary’s prices.
They passed the sheriff’s station, a simple gray door with a faded yellow star painted on it. Below the star, a single name appeared: Elfego Zapata. Above it, a wide display welcomed visitors to Port Vantage and reminded them that deadbeats would be detained at their own expense until all debts were settled.
The screen flickered. “Wanted,” it said at the top now. Below it, Rork’s face morphed from profile to front view, then back again.
Mary Ellen gripped his wrist.
“It’s a bad picture,” Rork said.
Elfego Zapata? Jupiter, help me!
“Is anyone here going to recognize you? Who’s this Zapata guy?”
These people knew Rork. Down the street was the feed corn warehouse where he picked up cheap food for the miners’ wives co-op. Around the corner, that grandmother sold durable textiles. He’d been here countless times. Someone would recognize him. It was only a matter of time.
And then the legendary Sheriff Zapata would be on his tail. “No. Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it? Look at the reward!”
Heads turned toward them and Rork covered his eyes. “Can you please shut up?” He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her deeper into the market, his head bowed. He turned into the fourth shop down, a dark melody playing as the door closed.
“Why are we in here? And let go of me!” She ripped herself free.
The store was dim, just as he remembered it. A gentleman’s store. The acrid smell of earthy tobacco reached him. He headed towards the back.
“There are cameras in here,” she hissed.
Rork found them. The old standby. He caressed the supple leather with the inside of his finger. It smelled of genuine Neatsfoot oil and grit. The deep green of the lenses reminded him of Earth, and Lala. His chest twinged.
“An excellent choice, sir. The imitation hide keeps your head warm and the lenses are perfect for conserving your eyes from rogue rays. The ear flaps contain multi-phonic, self-tuning speakers and the lenses will automatically sync with your Abido-enabled spacecraft’s navigational and analytics outputs.” The clerk was tall, an elderly but undoubtedly spry gentleman with a full head of silver hair.
“I’ll take it.” Rork jammed the pilot’s helmet onto the crown of his head but that’s where it stopped.
“If I may, sir, let me see if we can find one in your size.” The clerk removed the helmet with a finessed touch and wrapped a thin string around Rork’s head.
“That’s a very handsome seven and a half. Very good, sir. Let me just check stock.” His footsteps creaked across the old wooden floor.
Mary Ellen rushed to Rork’s side, a chill breeze preceding her. “Don’t rush off from me like that!” She interlaced her fingers with his. “Look what I found.” She handed him a digital broadsheet.
Rork rubbed the black and white plastic sheet in his fingers. “Sollix Innocent, Protestors Say,” declared the headline. He read on, tapping the edge of the device to turn the page.
“What does it say?” she asked.
Rork looked up, his eyes wide. “They love me. Earth loves me! Not that it does me any good.”
“Does it say anything about me?”
He handed it back to her. He kept his eyes down and his head turned away from the clerk. “Why don’t you make your call? Get those coordinates. We’re short on time.”
She flexed her fingers and gripped him more tightly. “We’re sticking together, you and I. No discussion.”
Ten years of this needy pain in the neck? And I’ll never get any.
Rork groaned.
How did I get myself into this?
He retraced his steps to discover the exact moment when it all went wrong.
Was it when he swore vengeance on Barbary? When he hired Glagnon? When he listened to that quack in Isotania? When he met Lala? No, that was the purest thing he’d ever seen. None of this was her fault. The blame lay squarely on him.
The clerk interrupted. “My sincerest apologies, sir, but we only have a seven and one-quarter. We do however have your excellent size in another model.”
“No, that’s fine. You accept Satoshis of course?” Rork grabbed the helmet from the clerk and jammed it over his head. His forehead skin hung down and his eyebrows pushed into his field of vision. He pushed and pulled at the leather and got it into place. His temples began to ache.
“Do I know you, sir? You seem quite familiar. Have we had the honor of serving you before?”
“No. How much will it be?” Rork looked the man in the eye.
The clerk stole a look at Rork, then turned away and scratched his eyebrows.
He’s scared. He knows me.
“It’s not true, you know. It’s a Barbary frame-up job.”
The man looked towards the front door and coughed.
“How much is the helmet?”
“You may have it compliments of the management, Mr. Sollix.”
“I’m not a thief!” Rork took a step towards the man. “I’m a trader, like you, trying to make my way. Trying to survive.”
“Thirty-five Satoshis. The transaction awaits your approval at the counter.” The clerk indicated a tall, thin machine with a screen.
Rork strode to it, swiped his pinky finger past the receiver and entered his rate-limited key.
The screen flashed. Transaction completed. Rork headed for the door. He stopped midway. “Did you notify the sheriff?” He reached for the door.
“He’s gone!” Mary Ellen whispered.
“Jupiter help me.” Rork pushed through the door, Mary Ellen lagging behind him. They trotted up the street, turned right and headed deeper into the marketplace.
The crowds were thicker here. The smell of sweaty miners unshowered for months mixed with the earthy aroma of the cattle farmers’ manure-soaked boots. A row of feed stores followed a series of textile shops.