Space Wrangler (21 page)

And then, at long last, the monster would regret the cold abuse he had heaped on a helpless child for so many, many years. And with any luck, he'd choke to death on it.

Dressed in the black business suit she had brought to impress TJ, but with a more modest shirt this time, Alexia finished stuffing her belongings into the mesh duffle bag she had brought with her during transit. The smugglers had given it to her, explaining it would fit neatly in the nose of her transit capsule, and they had been right. She could still remember being strapped into place, her nerves jangling with a combination of fear and anticipation. She had been so excited about seeing TJ again. Talking to a real sentient. Finding Trent.

Or the sinkhole would gobble her up, in which case, she'd
definitely
find Trent.

But the vaunted Sea-Mont sentient hadn't come through for her, and she suspected it never would. So she needed to go home. To talk to Lorenzo Nolo and Barbary Hoy about the relays, which Rick had suggested were the true secrets to full sentience. And eventually, she might contact Rick himself. Take him up on his offer to pick Sensie's brain. But that would be a last resort. Because seeing Rick would lead to touching Rick, and as wonderful as that sounded, it wouldn't be fair to him.

The poor guy doesn't even realize he made a friend for life. He's piloting that shimmery spaceship through some sort of hideous gauntlet, daring the universe to smite him. And maybe that's what he needs.

He didn't seem like the type for an actual death wish. He loved adventure too much. Loved Sensie. Loved exploring. But he didn't envision a real future for himself, much less a future filled with love, even though his capacity for love remained strong.

But that capacity was a double-edged sword. If he made new friends and they were then threatened? If he thought Alexia was in danger? Wouldn't it drive him mad?

Even now, at this very moment, if he heard the news about Jamie—well, the warrior and protector in him would go berserk.

Better to let him heal for a while, especially since unlike TJ, he welcomed the aloneness. How had Dr. Meg phrased it? Alone but not lonely. Alexia would look for Trent, and once she found him, if she hadn't found another guy who made her feel the way Rick did, well then…

Maybe she'd look him up. Or maybe not.

A knock at the door told her TJ was outside, waiting, and she felt a pang of guilt. Rick was far away, oblivious to Jamie's plight. But poor TJ couldn't escape it. He had to minister to his employees for the next few hours, selflessly and with the kind of gentle strength that had inspired true loyalty in each and every one of them.

So she stowed the bag under the bed, then took a final glance in the bedroom mirror, ensuring she had created the right blend of vulnerability and dignity. Pulling her wild hair back into a knot had helped. One could barely see the streaks of copper now, making her look even more like her dark-haired, brown-eyed father.

Maybe that would bring comfort to the residents. They yearned for stability, and a Montoya standing steadfastly at the side of a Seaton would give them that, wouldn't it?

Pulling the door open, she smiled sadly at TJ's broad shoulders. Those shoulders, that chest, that ramrod-straight posture—she needed them so much, as did everyone else. His dark-blue suit was sharp, his face clean-shaven, and his eyes brimming with strength and commitment.

Perfect.

“You look good, Alexia,” he told her, stepping into the living room. “Have you eaten?”

She nodded. “How about you?”

“I'm fine.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you up to this?”

“Totally. And I'm so proud of you.”

“For what?”

”For
this
. Being everyone's hero. A total rock.”

“I want to be
your
hero, not theirs. Starting tomorrow. But tonight, unfortunately, we're representing Sea-Mont. It's a pain, but it's how it is.” His tone turned brisk. “So here are your marching orders. Jamie is dead and gone. There's no gray area. Just certainty. It's the only thing that will let them grieve and move on.”

Alexia's heart balked at the concept, but her brain knew it made sense. Not for everyone, but for D-side folks. So she met his questioning eyes directly. “I'll never forget that day in the Trading Post when I promised Jamie she'd be okay when she went through the sinkhole. I had no right to do that. And I won't make that mistake again.”

“You promised her she'd be okay because even if the worst happened, Trent would take care of her in there. And because of that, she wasn't frightened at the end, no matter what happened. She died in peace, thanks to you.”

“Thanks for saying that,” she murmured. The she eyed him curiously. “Tell me how you feel. Right this minute.”

He didn't hesitate. “I want to fly straight into that goddamned cesspool and pull her out. That's how I always feel when this happens. But it always fades, because life goes on.”

“Life goes on.” She rolled the words around in her mind, and decided they fit the occasion perfectly. And so she would make them her mantra for the difficult evening ahead.

She had seen the Trading Post at full capacity before, usually around nine p.m. But on this particular night, it was bursting at the seams. Every bio-girl, every single platform worker, and many of the R&R men. The enforcers were there too, most in civilian clothes, which Alexia appreciated. As for the few who were armed, she figured it was by their own choice, not TJ's. She recognized the group who had tried to arrest her that first day, and of course, they were in full combat gear despite being at a memorial service.

“Who's guarding the place?” she whispered to TJ, whose arm was linked with hers.

“We shut the entry point down completely. There's not a soul on this platform who's not in this room.”

“Wow.”

“I wish Gabby were here,” he added wistfully.

“You mean Gabrielle Rousseau? Your old girlfriend?” She licked her lips. “What's she like? You made her your communications director, so she must have something going for her. Even though you made her sound like a doormat that first night.”

“Did I?” His face flushed. “I'm such an asshole sometimes. But you'd like her, Lex. And she'd know exactly how to handle this.”

“You're doing fine,” she told him loyally. “Come on. Everyone's looking at us.”

It was true. A hush had fallen over the crowd, and even though Chaplain Andrew was standing near a makeshift platform near the bar, it was clear the Sea-Mont CEO was expected to lead this mournful celebration.

But apparently he wasn't ready yet, because he whispered, “We need to mingle.” Then he strode off toward the closest group of mourners.

She wanted to run to a more familiar group composed of Lana and three other bio-girls, gathered around a table adorned with beautiful white roses. But a lone figure in the corner, pretending to fold napkins, caught her eye. It was Barbara, TJ's secretary and sometimes mistress, and Alexia's heart went out to her. Once a bio-girl, now in limbo. Just like Jamie.

She hurried over to her and touched her shoulder. “Hi, Barbara.”

The former bio-girl promptly threw her arms around Alexia and burst into tears, saying plaintively, “Not Jamie. Anyone but Jamie.”

“I know, I know.” She patted the tall, dark-haired woman's back. “She was an amazing person.”

“She never turned her back on me, even when I was st-stupid enough to fall for—well, for a promotion.” The poor woman pulled away and grimaced. “Not that TJ hasn't been great. And
you're
so wonderful. So I'm just an awful human being really.”

Alexia pulled her into another, warmer hug. “Your old friends still love you, you know. And you've been a huge help to TJ. He needs you. We all do.”

“Alexia's right,” a soft voice interrupted. It was Kai, the slender, model-like woman who had made the cardinal mistake of falling in love with a D-side guy. “Come and talk to us, Barb. You too, Alexia.”

Barbara gave Alexia a smile. “Go on ahead. I'll join you in a minute.”

But Kai wouldn't take no for an answer. “We need you, Barb. Don't make me beg.”

Alexia stepped away slowly, respecting the interaction between the two females. Kai loved her secret boyfriend, and Barb probably loved TJ—or at least, had seen him as a ticket out of the bio-pool. But there was a deeper, more spiritual link among the few women on the platform. Alexia had felt it like a pulse, and had even been a part of it for a few days.

But only a bio-girl—or former bio-girl—could truly understand it.

“I need to mingle,” she told Barbara with a sad smile. “Go and take care of your friends.”

Barbara hesitated, but Kai grabbed her by the wrist and led her to the others.

Alexia continued to work the room, listening to Jamie stories, comforting the tearful. And then blessedly, the chaplain started to speak. She was sure he'd give a long, wonderful account of Jamie's virtue, followed by assurances that redemption for all was at hand, but instead, all he did was introduce TJ, who took the stage, projecting a humble kind of strength that took Alexia's breath away.

“Thank you for being here,” he told the crowd. “We all loved Jamie McCartell. She brought something special to this platform. A ray of Earth-side sunshine in an otherwise artificial world.”

He paused to let the mourners murmur their assent, then he continued. “Jamie wasn't just my employee. She was a kindred spirit, sharing my love of business. I always thought she'd start her own company someday. She would have ruled with a gentle touch, and people would have lined up to work for her. Not just because she had good business sense, but because she genuinely cared about others. We were lucky to meet her. Better for having known her. And for the rest of our days, we'll remember her.”

A buzz moved through the crowd, as though he had just put into words exactly what they had been thinking and feeling. And Alexia shared their amazement. She had never allowed TJ—or anyone—to have a memorial service for Trent. For obvious reasons. But watching him now, she knew he would have done justice to her brother's memory.

He launched into the story of how Jamie had hounded him for an interview and had then pointed out, in documented detail, an inventory problem in the Trading Post. She could do it better. She had a plan, and since she could easily make more money as a bio-girl than as an inventory clerk, she was gifting her idea to Sea-Mont. If it worked, she hoped she'd get an excellent reference from the company someday. If it didn't, well, she was confident it wasn't any worse than the system now in place.

Long story short? It had worked. And rather than crowing, Jamie had praised the staff at the Trading Post for implementing it so brilliantly.

“Not just a business woman, but a leader,” he said in closing. “And possibly the most loyal employee I ever had the good fortune to hire.”

A tearful cheer went up and TJ hurried off the stage and back to Alexia, who told him reverently, “Trent would be proud of you. You implemented his vision and then made it infinitely better.”

Other speakers followed, each recounting their favorite Jamie story. Most of the bio-girls were articulate, and Carlos the nurse waxed poetic, but those tributes paled in Alexia's eyes when compared with the halting, unsophisticated words of the refiners and mechanics. Those men loved Jamie for how she had made them feel, and so they wept like babies by the end, yet still powered through out of love for their fallen bedmate and confidante.

Alexia had tried to be strong, but ended up sobbing against TJ's chest again, occasionally grabbing a glass of champagne for sustenance.

After two hours, she knew it was time to go. The tributes had ceased, the chaplain had given a soft yet stirring reading from the Old Testament, the flow of champagne was ebbing, and things were starting to wind down.

Then Lana called out, “We want to hear from Alexia Montoya.”

Uh-oh
.

“She's such a pain,” TJ muttered. “Just decline, Lexie. Everyone will understand.”

Alexia winced. “Check out their faces. I'm pretty sure they won't.”

It was true. All eyes were now on “the only remaining Montoya” on Earth or Destry. And those eyes were so bloodshot, so depleted, it was difficult to know what was behind them. Love? Hope?

A lynch mob?

“I can do it,” she assured TJ.

He seemed unconvinced. “These workers are exhausted, which means they're unpredictable. Just spout the party line for once. It's a great loss to all of us, but we were lucky to know her, even briefly. Be sincere, but be smart.”

“Right. Sincere and smart. I can do that.” Moistening her lips, she moved to the stage and climbed the single step to the podium. Then she looked out over the crowd and into their expectant faces, some miserable, some challenging. It made sense to follow TJ's advice, didn't it?

It wasn't as though she had never made a speech before. She had made dozens, some on this very topic—loss by sinkhole. And she had had intimate conversations with heartbroken survivors who wanted to hear something, anything, to ease their grief.

But this group was different. Raw. Probably because so little time had passed, and definitely because they were stranded here. Bold adventurers who had just lost the source of their bravado. Not only had their friend vanished into thin air, but they themselves would be required to venture into that same thin air someday soon.

Licking her lips again, she told them quietly, “I would do anything to fix this.
An
ything. There's not enough bio-metal in the universe to justify this stupid, senseless tragedy. If my father were standing here tonight, he'd invent a time machine, go back, and un-discover that stupid rip in space. That abomination. And if my brother were here, he'd find a way to get our Jamie back. Unfortunately, you've got the wrong Montoya, and I'm so sorry.” Her voice caught, but she finished strongly. “Jamie knew you loved her. She was born of love, raised in love, and because of people like you, her life was worth living. It was short and sweet, and we're all the better for having met her.”