Dan felt a spring in his step. There were several reasons, day five and his radiation sickness was slowly fading. Cheyenne got her new "eyes" or something almost as good. But truth be told, a pit in his stomach, a weight he hadn't even been aware of carrying was lifting.
Dan couldn't even remember when the first person picked up on the fact that words like gay or lesbian didn't exist in the Consortium language. That didn't mean they didn't have people like that, or so his gay friends all maintained. He'd believed that, but it was hard, a test of faith.
His discussion with Cheyenne and her healers had lifted that. They didn't have the words because they didn't see it as an important distinction. If a man fell in love with a man, or a woman with a woman, did it even matter? If they preferred one sex over another, did that matter?
When you saw it through their lens it made sense. They had technology to change bodies to a much greater extent than anything on earth. They had alien species and while inter species romance wasn't common, it wasn't unknown. If you compared two men being in love to a man and an alien, well gay didn't seem that remarkable.
A smattering of the crew were gathering in the lounge. Dan grabbed a drink and joined Jensen, Kleppie and several others at the back, watching news. It was the Consortium channel.
"We got tired of earth news," Kleppie explained, "too much FUD."
FUD, fear, uncertainty and doubt. The earth news was full of it these days. The economy was tanking, the conservatives were buzzing with conspiracies about the Consortium and the mainstream news was spinning the conflict with China for all it was worth.
"So what's on their news?" Dan asked.
"Currently it's the top ten Holi snit fits," Kleppie laughed. Earth newscaster were expected to act with a certain dignity. The Consortium, at least the ones they had met, seemed to delight in Holi's eccentric behavior on camera.
"What have I missed?" Dan asked.
"So far when they announced that Sarasvat had been named to this expedition, he ran out of the studio dancing he was so excited. And he ranted for ten minutes about some guy convincing his girlfriend to go skinny dipping in a holding tank and contaminating several hundreds of gallons of water on the base ship."
The commercial ended and Dan watched along as they counted down the best over reactions from Holi. The winner was, surprisingly, Captain Ganaka's poisoning by earth leaders right after their arrival.
It had turned out to be nothing worse than a reaction to several food additives, substances that the Consortium didn't have and his body couldn't handle. "Why would they put that in their food?" the announcer wondered. Ganaka had spent a couple of hours in a med-tank recovering from his ordeal. Holi, and others on board the ship, had felt that Ganaka should have sent diplomats in first, men better trained to not over react.
It had not been the poisoning that had led to an over reaction from Holi but the recovery. Holi was an enthusiast for pod rocket racing, a fast and dangerous sport in the Consortium. He had even owned his own pod, in the other galaxy. He had crashed it and spent several weeks in a tank recovering. "Two hours! Two hours!" he ranted at the screen. "Come'on. Toughen up, Captain."
"It's good to know they aren't all that keen on Ganaka, either," Jensen commented.
"Ain't that the truth," Dan said, "makes you think real peace is possible, seeing their civilians. Ain't so different than us. Oh, an they hooked Cheyenne's nerves up to an pair of goggles so she can see."
"Awesome!" Kleppie said. "Damn, they have some tech, huh? You've seen Fox's arm?"
"Yeah, she's getting them tomorrow."
"How much did she lose?" Jensen asked.
Dan closed his eyes. None of the others had seen Cheyenne yet. Best they be prepared. "A lot. A lot of skin mostly. If you go to see her, keep that in mind. She looks a mess. Though they say that'll heal in time. She lost her eyes and most of her fingers. That's next on their list, to replace them, like they did Fox's arm. Then her legs."
"Her legs, too?" Kleppie said.
"Yeah, below the knee."
The news came back after a commercial break and the next news piece was an update about the fleet. As they started talking about ships and locations, Cheyenne's condition was temporarily forgotten.
"Well, fuck us," Jensen muttered.
Runningbear came over. He had a can of something in his hand, it wasn't nausea drink but Dan had no clue what it was. He looked calmer than he had in days. He watched the news report for a minute and then declared. "Now you all know how my people felt two hundred years ago."
Jensen snorted.
"But if they aren't here to invade us," someone ventured, "why do they need so many ships?"
"They are exploring our galaxy," Dan said. "That's what they've been saying all along. This planet was to be the base for that exploration, right?"
"Still, that's a lot of ships and a lot of people," Jensen said.
"Some of the faster ships are already almost within the solar system," Holi was saying. "Hoshi-toska at the front, barreling at top speed. Hoshi-toska, of course, is an aquatic exploration ship. It's mission and the reason its running at top speed is search for the Chinese submarine that fired the missile."
Everyone watched intently as the view screen showed stock footage of the ship called Hoshi-toska. It was a large ship that was capable of landing on the surface of an ocean. Then it would open up into a floating base of sorts and discharge a dozen smaller submersible vessels.
Once the Hoshi-toska arrived the hunt for the Chinese sub would begin in earnest. More importantly, the last place that the Consortium couldn't reach would be gone.
"What does that mean for our submarines?" Kleppie whispered.
Apparently Holi wondered the same thing.
"Those discussions are under a diplomatic time stamp, apparently," the co-anchor said with a deep scowl. They showed a clip of an interview with a senior Consortium diplomat but unfortunately for the earth crew watching, no one explained what a time stamp was or what it meant. The diplomat assured the newscaster that they were in talks with several earth side governments. They weren't concerned about submarines themselves, but the presence of more nuclear weapons was a great cause for concern.
#####
Fox followed Nara down the halls of the ship. They had found a slate for him and the other security guys and they'd been shown how to access maps for the ship, as well as what live data they were entitled to, according to information bureau.
The slate had a detailed map, translated into English for their benefit. But the translations were done automatically with a precise sort of imprecision only a machine could master. The rear bays had supplies for emergencies runs. They had devices for treating hypothermia, that bay labeled, "Storage of toasting devices" for whatever reason. The bay where the medical gel was manufactured and stored was labeled with a long string of chemical symbols. Fox was thankful that Nara had offered to walk him around the ship, explain the arcane locations that made no sense.
Not to mention it was a great excuse to follow her around. His brain may have decided Nara was only friend material, but his body wasn't getting the message. Watching her confident swagger as she led him around the ship... more than once he had to fight the urge to touch her, to run his new hand over her firm back.
They found Shayly leaning against her door jamb, staring down the hall. Further down American sailors were going in and out of one of the mess halls.
"Sad Shayly," she said as they passed.
"Why sad, girl?" Nara asked.
"So many beautiful young men and women," she said. "But none of them have any money for my services." She sighed and went back into her quarters.
As they walked away, Nara said, "that will be trouble, mark my words."
"I thought you liked her?"
"I do. She's still trouble." Nara shoulder bumped him. "Honest, you've never liked someone who was trouble?"
"Point taken. But like she said, whatever our morals or your morals, she's right. None of our men have money."
"Be interesting to see how she gets around that. Trouble, no doubt, but interesting."
#####
"Mom, can you start the video?" Cheyenne asked. Now that she had eyes, of a sort, Cheyenne had asked if they could use video. The answer was yes, but Mom claimed the webcam wasn't working on her laptop.
"It don't work," her mom snapped. It was probably a lie.
"Grandma, I think..." James started only to be cut off by an angry noise from Cheyenne's mother.
She just doesn't want to see me. Cheyenne could understand. She didn't want to see herself right now. Her face was one big black patch with a pair of goggles on it. She's lost what little hair hadn't been singed off in the accident. Her fingers were black skeletons. There was nothing pretty about Cheyenne at the moment. It was disheartening.
Appearance aside, she wanted to see her kids. She missed them terribly. She kept reminding herself that if the attack hadn't happened, if they had had an uneventful deployment, they would still only be halfway through it and she still wouldn't be seeing her kids for several more weeks. It did no good, being trapped on this ship, not knowing when she'd get to see them for real, was driving her crazy.
"How is school going, James?" she asked. Her son answered in mostly vague terms, school was one of his least favorite activities and he sounded distracted this morning. Before long he was gone.
Mom talked for awhile and then put Mackenzie on. She was at least able to hold a coherent conversation.
In the background of their conversation she could hear her mother scolding James over something. She listened intently, trying to hear if there was a smack to coincide with the noise.
Dana Walker had hit Cheyenne plenty growing up, cuffs on the head and smacks on the rear when she was bad. It was never hard enough for Cheyenne to think she had been abused. But now that it was her kids living with the woman, she worried almost constantly.
"You seen your father much?" Cheyenne asked Mackenzie, she hoped it sounded casual. James Suffolk, Cheyenne's ex, wasn't exactly her favorite person. They rarely talked and when they did, it usually didn't go well. James might not like Cheyenne much, but he detested her mom. Cheyenne could at least trust him to speak up if things weren't going well at home, out of spite.
Mackenzie ignored the question, barreling into a story about some girl at school. Cheyenne scowled but didn't push. When Mackenzie was finished and her mom came back on, Cheyenne quizzed mom, "has James been seeing the kids?"
"The kid nearly broke the TV, swinging the Wii remote around," Dana Walker groused, "I don't have money to be replacing it, you know."
"Mom!" Cheyenne barked. "Has James been seeing the kids?"
There was a pause. Cheyenne wished again they had video. "Umm, I haven't seen in awhile."
"How long?"
"Three weeks."
Cheyenne let out a groan of frustration. "Three weeks? Where's he been?"
"Don't know. Last time he reeked of booze."
James Suffolk had been Cheyenne's high school sweetheart. They had married when she was still seventeen, and pregnant with Mackenzie. He'd graduated early and signed up for the marines. A year later Cheyenne had signed up for the Navy.
At first it had worked. They were the model military family, juggling deployments and childcare.
Cheyenne's dad had passed away only a couple months before she discovered she was pregnant with James junior. It was a blessing. Mom had moved in with them, and without Dad's booze-ridden abusive mouth around, she seemed to do better, despite her protestations of grief. For awhile the three of them had made a great team.
For awhile. James began to exhibit symptoms of PTSD after his second tour in Afghanistan. By the end of his third, he had little choice but to get out of the military. He had trouble finding or holding a job. He started to drink more and more.
Cheyenne had felt nothing but sympathy at first. But the man wouldn't get help. She'd argued and begged him to go see someone at the VA. He'd set up appointments and then miss them. He'd lose job after job and it was Cheyenne who had to pick up the slack.
Finally she told him, in no uncertain terms, that she'd grown up with an alcoholic father but there was no way she'd stay with an alcoholic husband. He'd signed into a drug treatment center and stayed sober all of three days. She'd arrived to visit only to discover he'd signed himself out and taken off with some floozy he met in group therapy. By the time he showed back up some four days later, begging her forgiveness, she'd already filed for separation.
The stress of the separation and divorce hit her mom harder than it did Cheyenne. Mom had her first "accidental" overdose about that time. After that it was a procession of therapist, psychiatrists and diagnosis's. She was prescribed medications for depression and anxiety. Cheyenne was increasingly convinced she was addicted to the anxiety meds. The last doctor had pulled Cheyenne aside and told her her mom had Borderline Personality Disorder. When Cheyenne looked the term up online later, it fit her mom to a T.
Cheyenne gave a weary goodbye to her mother and signed off. She stared at the table for a long time, wondering if the goggles her healers had outfitted her with could somehow accommodate her sudden need to cry. All she had asked was that one of the two of them hold it together long enough for her to finish her final deployment, so she could take an honorable discharge.
"Are you okay?" Janda asked, coming to her side.
"I am sad. I can't see my kids," she admitted. "And tired. I've been awake how long? A couple hours."
"It's probably time to rest," he agreed. "We don't want to tax you too much. You have a lot of healing to do yet."
"Are we going to do more of the clackers?"
"We did your fingers. We will wait now and do a leg tomorrow, and the other one the next day."
"Then I will be able to get up out of tank? To stand?" she asked.
"Sure, for a short while. You are taking all your nutrients from the gel, and you are still doing a lot of primary healing. You wouldn't survive long without the tank, but an hour or two won't hurt you," Janda said.
Lana entered, carrying trays for her and Janda. "It will do you good even, to be out for a short time," Lana added. "Your body needs to learn to maintain itself without help, to take in nutrients normally. It won't do that until it's stressed a little bit."
Cheyenne nodded and then let herself sink back into the gel. She'd nap while they ate, she decided. No point in ruining their meal with her rotten mood.