2136
Waits couldn't help but agree with Lingard that this kitten would indeed be the closest thing they'd have to a child. A part of him wondered if this was what all late-in-life couples did-got a pet for the two of them to care for, since a human child was out of the question.
Patrick didn't seem to notice he was in space. All he cared about was that his humans provided a clean litter box and food and entertainment and a warm place to sleep. Like all cats, he had his preferred spots to lay when he didn't feel like chasing specks of light on the floor, and like all cats, one of his preferred spots was a massive inconvenience to his humans.
It probably wouldn't have come to be if Waits hadn't partially zipped up his jacket before sitting on the couch. The curious little kitten just saw a space that was dark and warm from his vantage point on Waits's shoulder. Digging his claws into Waits's shirt, Patrick climbed downward, flopping into the jacket.
Waits glanced down to see and feel the kitten kneading his belly. He grinned a little upon noticing Patrick had begun to purr, and then looked over at Lingard in the kitchen. "Hey, sweetheart, come look at this," he whispered.
Lingard headed over to the couch, and looked inside Waits's jacket to see the kitten half-curled up and kneading. "I told you he'd like you."
"Yeah, yeah." Waits stroked the kitten's back, prompting Patrick to look up at him and purr more.
"And you like him, too."
"I wouldn't go that far."
Lingard gave him a look.
"Alright, alright, I'm kidding." Waits turned his gaze to Lingard. "I'm just happy this is making you happier."
"Not as happy as you make me." She smiled a little. "You don't feel like I'm replacing you, are you?"
"No. Just saying . . . it's nice seeing you happy."
"Are you happy?"
"Yeah. Well . . . things could be better, but . . . I'll take what I have." Waits leaned back, adjusting the cat against his belly. "I don't think it'll be too long before Sevastopol closes."
"We're all hoping."
2137
Months of silence passed. Nothing from Seegson. Nothing from Marshal Command. Waits spent another Thanksgiving and Christmas on the hapless station, and as the calendar rolled over to the new year, he found himself starting to worry. He felt like Hazelton was right when he said that Sevastopol was not a high-priority location.
In time. It's just gonna take time. Just gotta stay patient.
Waits had accumulated a lot of evidence of Ransome's threats and blackmailing over the last year, and he knew this had to be enough to ship off to Command to get a case rolling. The only problem was getting it off the station, and the waiting was starting to hurt.
Finally, it was a day in late July when Waits received a message from Command. He was sitting at his desk when something flashed on the screen in front of him, and he adjusted himself in his chair before activating the connection. Jarendeno's face appeared on-screen.
"Waits! Good to see you," Jarendeno said.
Waits could feel Sterling's owl-like gaze on him from across the room. "Good to see you, too," he replied. "What brings you out here?"
"You haven't called anyone in awhile. We get monthly reports, but we haven't received anything beyond that. Is everything OK?"
"For the most part, yeah. I thought just getting the monthly reports was a good thing."
"Given what we discussed when I inspected Sevastopol in 2135, I'd thought you'd be sending us message after message about getting guns and gear once you took Hazelton's spot."
"I actually thought you'd be following up on that." Waits swallowed hard. "You did say you'd put in a notice for me."
"I did, and the only thing I've heard is this-Seegson is planning on decommissioning Sevastopol. Command will not send anything out there unless it's an absolute emergency."
A sense of relief flooded Waits's chest. "So, we're gonna go home?"
Jarendeno smiled. "Yes. They haven't announced anything yet, but they're hinting at September for an announcement."
"That's great. Really, it is. Hey, tell the guys on Gateway that I want a post there. I'll deal with the post-cryo illness."
"I'll put in a good word for you. They'll take you in a heartbeat. Hang tight, Waits, you're almost there."
2175
A gentle throbbing sensation that started in his chest and pulsated throughout his body was the first thing Gorman felt when consciousness began to return. Then came the cold. His body was still too sluggish to jolt. He heard the hissing of the cryotube opening, and then felt the rest of his senses start coming back to life.
He moved his head and neck first, then lay still for a moment, letting blood to continue to flow through his body. Then he sneezed.
"Bless you!" Towers called.
Gorman slowly sat up, adjusting himself before pulling off the sticky vital recorders from his chest and abdomen. His body and mind were still moving at a slow pace. A few more minutes, and he'd be awake enough to command again.
He managed to stand and stretch, and stiffly walked over to a series of exercise bars inside the locker room. A Vent Rat couldn't afford to be stiff on a mission. He could feel blood returning to all corners of his body as he flexed his arms and legs to grab onto one of the bars above. Giving a heavy sigh, Gorman pulled himself up, feeling more nerves reactivate themselves.
Most Marines would do just simple pull-ups or push-ups or sit-ups to wake up their muscles. Gorman had to do more. He had to make sure he was flexible, able to crawl through a tight space with relative ease. He pulled himself up onto the bar, crouching on top of it, curving his spine. He felt a few pops, just joints relieving themselves of a three-week stiffness. Nothing to be worried about. Once he was moving again, he'd go back to being as silent as a cat in the shadows.
He sat on the bar, then fell backward, holding onto the bar with his knees. He hung upside-down, stretching downward, then bending both backwards and forwards.
"It really is tempting to poke your sides and see what happens," Towers said behind him.
"Well," Gorman grunted, "please, don't." He adjusted himself to get off the bar, and headed to his locker, Towers following him. She went behind him to get to her own locker, pulling out her camouflage trousers and occasionally glancing over her shoulder at Gorman as he dressed himself as well.
He remembered she expressed her nervousness about this being her first mission before they went into hypersleep. After zippering his pants, Gorman turned to face Towers as she tucked in her T-shirt. "Anything you wanna talk about before we get ready?" he asked.
Towers sat on the bench. "Um . . . not really. I'm still worried."
Gorman smiled at her reassuringly. "Do you have faith in me?"
"Yeah."
"Then I have faith in you. Remember what I told you. Listen to me, and your instincts. Everything will be fine."
The Marines marched off the McAuliffe and onto the transitioning station known as Violet Rose. As they left the airlock, they stepped out into a massive, circular space. In the center was a fountain, glowing a deep purple color. Around the base of the fountain were the words "Violet Rose, LV-510, est. 2144." Signs glowed overhead, people walked around, carrying shopping bags and suitcases, or guns, if they were Marshals.
The shuttle wouldn't be ready to take them down to the Netrayas base for another few hours. Gorman allowed his squad to go explore if they wished, as long as they didn't cause trouble, and they had to be back a half-hour before the shuttle was scheduled to be ready. He watched them leave, some in groups, some alone. Only one didn't go, despite Wade asking if she wanted to.
Towers stayed with Gorman. She looked embarrassed to decline the invite from Wade, but stuck by it, following Gorman as he headed down to one of the cafés. She looked a little intimidated by the size and scale of the Violet Rose malls. Everything looked so fancy and high-end, yet so cozy and inviting at the same time.
"You came from a small town, didn't you?" Gorman said. "I know the look."
Towers nodded. "Southern Wisconsin. Real close to the border with Illinois. Farms everywhere. The town was probably exactly how you picture it. Couple busy-looking streets, but that was it. Very quiet most of the year."
"So it wasn't until very recently that you've been exposed to a city, or city-like environment."
Another nod.
Gorman held the door open for Towers when they came to café he found interesting. The two walked in, found a place to sit, and waited for someone to come over and take their orders. They were the only customers at the moment, seated at a half-circle booth and they could easily hear the gentle jazz playing from an unseen radio.
"Kinda cold in here," Towers said, breaking the silence.
Without a word, Gorman unzipped his jacket, and handed it to her.
"Thanks." Towers put on the jacket, and left it open. A few minutes later, she closed it, and put the hood up before resting her head in her arms on the table.
"What's on your mind?" Gorman asked.
"Nothing."
"You know what you're doing is bad table manners, right?"
"I know." Towers lifted the hood a little, and sighed. "I used to do this whenever I got a chance to go out alone, because people would recognize me at a restaurant and remember that I was part of the big family with the kids who threw stuff and made a scene. It's a wonder we weren't banned from anywhere."
"Ah. And you hoped wearing a hooded jacket provided obscurity."
"Yeah."
Gorman nodded. "I understand." He fell silent, looking around at the café's decorations and photos of city streets ranging from the early twentieth century to today. Gorman's gaze settled on a panoramic picture of the Chicago skyline at night. His heart wrenched as he thought of Lydia.
He didn't notice Towers was looking at him. She took off her hood and moved closer to Gorman when she saw that look on his face. She had seen that look on her fellow recruits in basic; the look of homesickness, of missing family. "You know, when you look sad, it makes everyone else sad," she said, moving ever so slightly closer to him. "You look like you're always thinking about something. Or someone."
"You would too, if you were in love."
Towers shrugged. "Do you think about anything else?"
"Yeah."
"I'm guessing you spend more time in your head than out of it."
"Could put it that way."
Towers kept staring at him after they both received their orders. She watched Gorman stir his coffee, then said, "I think that makes you a better friend."
"What does?" Gorman replied, not looking up from his drink.
"Thinking a lot more than talking. You always know what to say when you actually do say something. You don't just blurt something out that you might regret."
"Doesn't mean I haven't said or done anything that I regret."
Towers snorted. "You? I find that hard to believe."
"Ask anyone. We all have things we regret, whether it's something we did, or didn't do."
Towers moved her straw around in a blend of soft vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream. "I regret not having a better relationship with my mom. And my dad."
"I don't think it's too late to fix things," Gorman replied. "I'm sure once less kids are in the house, you'll be able to go and spend quality time with your parents."
"I hope so. Also hope I don't go home and find there's two more babies."
"Well, that'd be out of your control."
"Everything in that Goddamn house was out of my control. Even my own room, because I had to share it with two sisters. And they had no concept of boundaries. Everything that was mine was theirs, too. Never asked me for permission to read my books or play with my toys. I can still vividly remember the day I came home from school and found my . . . my floppy cat doll . . . and her head was partially off. She was the only thing I could salvage, only thing I took with me when I enlisted. I still have her, back on base. Still with a gaping hole in her neck."
"At least I can promise no one will touch your stuff while you're under my command." Gorman looked at Towers as she absentmindedly stirred her milkshake. "Here's an interesting question; how did you go through boot camp despite the fact that you had even less control there than you did at home?"
"Honestly, that is a good question," Towers sighed. She glanced at him. "Can you keep a secret?"
"Anything."
"I made the meanest DI quit. She couldn't figure out why or how her stuff kept getting messed with, and the day after she threw a fit on us, she didn't come back. Someone else was in her place."
"I kinda figured that was you when Valen told me there was a rumor you made an instructor quit."
"Yeah, if you hadn't guessed that by now, I'd . . . I'd be questioning your intelligence."
Gorman smirked. "Wasn't all that hard to figure out. And I won't tell anyone, I promise." He winked at her.
Towers finally grinned back, and took a sip of her milkshake. "Thanks." She fell silent again, and then stared into space. "Nice to have someone to keep your secrets."
"Always is."
Towers's grin faded, and her face paled. She held the straw between her fingers, but didn't move it as she looked down at the table.
Gorman gave her a concerned look. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just . . . you know . . . afraid . . . this mission'll go horribly wrong, and you're . . ."
"Towers? Look at me, young lady." He spoke gently. When she looked at him, he held out his hand. "Go ahead, take it." He waited as Towers took his hand in both of hers, squeezing it. "Everything will be OK. Like I said before, listen to my orders, follow your instincts, and have faith in your own abilities. You can be a real pain-in-the-ass, but I don't think you would've moved on from basic if you didn't have the skills to be a good Marine. And, never forget this . . . it's OK to be scared. Trust me, I'm a little scared for you right now, because this is, of course, your first mission."
"You're not worried about yourself?"
"No. I know what I'm doing. I've done this before. My worry is on you, and everyone else."
2137
Waits sprinted to San Cristobal to tell Lingard the good news. He refused to wait. This was just too good. Their dreams were going to come true.
As he stood in the transit car, heart pounding with excitement, a thousand thoughts and hopes raced across his mind. An apartment together was within reach. Getting rid of Ransome was within reach. Total happiness together was within reach.
There was something else. Something akin to total happiness. The next step.
Marriage?
Waits let the word come to mind. He wasn't afraid of it. He felt ready for it. Sure, he was ready, but was Lingard? She had been through it twice, and both became failures.
There would be no failure with Waits. Never. He would always be loyal to her. No one else in the universe could give him what she had. And he loved her. She loved him. Tying the knot felt like the next logical step.
He kept this to himself. A part of him wanted to surprise her, while another part wanted to talk about it with her. He argued with himself in his mind until the transit stopped at SciMed Tower, where he decided he would keep this a secret. He would surprise her with a ring at some point.
He was definitely not telling Morley. Morley would run off and tell everyone in the hospital, even the patients in comas. Waits knew, though, that Morley would probably his first choice as best man for the wedding, once he knew of course.
It was tempting to talk about it, though, and thinking about every little detail made him feel so young. It would be the best day of their lives. He was ready to experience it.
Waits entered the hospital and headed straight to Lingard's office. Nothing had been announced, yet he was more excited and happy than he had been in years. He knew this would make her happy, too. "Sweetheart," he said, after closing the door behind him, "I've got some good news."
Lingard gave him a look. "Usually, when you say that, it's something on the ridiculous side, like you remembered to take your clothes out of mine before I took it down to the laundromat."
"I only forgot one time, and, no, it's not ridiculous. You're gonna want to brace yourself." Waits sat across from her. "I was just told by Jarendeno that Seegson will be closing down Sevastopol at some point this year."
"You're kidding. Get out."
"I'm serious." He reached over to squeeze her hand. "We're gonna get outta here. I already told Jarendeno to get me a post on Gateway. Can you believe it? We're actually getting out of this miserable place and starting a new life together, where we don't have to be scared of anyone. Oh, that reminds me, when we get closer to the day we have to leave, we'll compile those documents we found on Ransome. I'll store them somewhere safe and give them to the head Marshal on Gateway."
"Waits, I don't know what to say. This is incredible!" Lingard leaned over the desk to hug him. "I love you so much."
"Keep this between us, OK? We still don't know when this'll actually be announced." He kissed her. "And don't get reckless."
"I won't."
Their little passionate moment was interrupted by someone knocking on the door. "Lingard?" Morley said, sounding panicked. "We have a bit of a situation."
Lingard let go of Waits to open the door. "What's going on?"
Morley was pale, and walked inside, squeezing his hands together. "We're . . ." He paused, noticing Waits. "Well, perhaps it'd be better he hears this. Um . . ." Morley sighed heavily, rubbing his face, "we're . . . running low on various medications."
"What exactly are we running low on?"
"Anesthetics, antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds, pain meds, you name it. Everything. The mood pills are at their worst, though. I don't know what the hell Kuhlman needs so many for."
"I can imagine people go a little nuts when they're here for too long," Waits muttered.
Morley swallowed hard. "This is bad. I don't know how long we'll be able to-"
"Seegson's gonna close the station in a few months," Waits said. "Do you have enough to last at least until December?"
"I don't think so."
Waits sighed. "If Command's not gonna send weapons, we might not be able to get meds in."
"The Space Medical Federation operates differently. We can't wait until Seegson sends out a notification about closing Sevastopol."
"Where's their nearest outpost?"
"Gateway."
"They'll take three weeks to get out here."
"What about the Marines?"
"They're three weeks out, too."
"We need something. Someone. Anything." Morley's face was whiter than fresh-fallen snow.
"Morley, I'll do what I can," Waits said. "Just . . . don't get upset with me if you can't get what you need. Hopefully, we'll hear something from Seegson sooner rather than later. You two run San Cristobal the way you see fit. If you have to start rationing, do it. I don't have a lot of men left, but if you need someone to put down a riot, call me." Waits looked at Lingard. "I don't want you getting hurt."
Question: How have Gorman and Towers shown that they balance each other out?
