There was protocol, of course, that laid out who was supposed to have access to the records, but she’d been in the process of looking into how that actually played out in practice when Alex had dropped her a line and suggested dinner.
“If you’re up for it,” Bobbie said, “that’s what I’d want you to look at. Just who could have changed the information. Then I can start looking at them.”
“Keep going down the road you were already on,” Alex said.
“Only with maybe some friends in the Navy.”
“That’s one way we can go. It ain’t the only one, though.”
Bobbie sat forward, caught her breath, and leaned back. “What else are you thinking?”
“Someone hired the gentlemen who messed us up. Seems like findin’ out what we can about them might also be worth our time.”
Bobbie grinned. “That was the part I was planning to do.”
“Well, all right, then,” Alex said, and a man stepped into the doorway. He was huge. His shoulders brushed the doorframe on both sides, and his face was thick and heavy with a distress that could have been fear or anger. The bouquet of daffodils in his hand seemed tiny, and would until they were in a vase.
“Hey,” he said. “I was just…”
“Come in,” Bobbie said. “Alex, this is my brother Ben. Benji, this is Alex Kamal.”
“Good to meet you,” the massive man said, enfolding Alex’s hand in his grip and shaking gently. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
“Betcha?” Alex said.
The bed creaked as Bobbie’s brother sat at its foot. He looked sheepishly at his sister. Now that she’d said the words, Alex could see the resemblance in them. Bobbie wore the look better.
“The doctor says you’re doing well,” Ben said. “David wanted me to tell you he’s thinking of you.”
“That’s sweet, but David doesn’t think about anything but terraforming and boobs,” Bobbie said.
“I’ve cleaned out the guest room,” Ben said. “When they release you from the hospital, you’re coming to stay with us.”
Bobbie’s smile grew sharper. “I don’t actually see that happening.”
“No,” her brother said. “No, this isn’t a discussion. I told you from the beginning that Innis Shallow was a dangerous place, especially for someone living by herself. If Alex hadn’t saved you —”
“Not sure I was actually saving anyone,” Alex said, but Ben scowled and kept right on going over the words.
“— you could have been killed. Or worse.”
“Worse than killed?” Bobbie said.
“You know what I mean.”
Bobbie leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yes, I do, and I think that’s bullshit too. I am in no more danger in Innis Shallow than I would be up in Breach Candy.”
“How can you even say that?” her brother demanded, his jaw slipping forward. “After what you’ve just been through, it should be obvious that…”
Alex sidestepped toward the door. Bobbie caught his eye, and the brief smile, gone as soon as it was there, was eloquent. I’m sorry and Thank you and We’ll talk about the important stuff when he’s gone. Alex nodded and retreated to the hallway, the buzz-saw tones of siblings lecturing each other following after him.
When he got back to his recovery bed, the police were waiting, and this time he gave a statement that was, at least, coherent. Even if he left some of the background issues vague.
For the most part, family was a metaphor on long-haul ships. Now and then, there’d be a group that was actually related by blood, but that was almost always Belters. On military and corporate assignments, there might be a handful of married couples, and now and then someone would have a baby. People would wind up on the same ship who were cousins. They were the exception, and the rule was that family was a way of talking about need. The need for friendship, the need for intimacy, the need for human contact that ran so deeply into the genome that anyone without it seemed not entirely human anymore. It was camaraderie writ large, a synonym for loyalty that was stronger than the concept it echoed.
Alex’s experience of real family – of blood relations – was more like having a lot of people who had all wound up on the same mailing list without knowing quite why they signed up for it. He’d loved his parents when they were alive, and he still loved his memory of them. His cousins were always happy to see him, and he was glad of their welcome and their company. Seeing Bobbie and her brother together and feeling even in that brief moment the deep and unbridgeable mismatch of character between them drove something home to Alex.
A mother could love her daughter more than life itself the way the stories told, or she could hate the girl’s guts. Or both. A sister and brother could get along or fight each other or pass by in a kind of uncomfortable indifference.