The Outback Stars

CHAPTER


TWENTY-FIVE





L

ieutenant Commander Wildstein showed up for dinner in the wardroom that night. Startled, Jodenny said, “Good evening, ma’am. Can I get you a drink?”



“Beer would be fine.” Wildstein eyed the decorated bulkheads and rearranged furniture. “I like what you’ve done to the place.”



“It’s all Jodenny’s doing, ma’am,” Zeni said as AT Ashmont brought out another chair.



Wildstein took a mug. “I’m not surprised.”



Dinner was a delicious-smelling caponata made with zucchini, tomato, eggplant, and garlic. They were shaking out their napkins when the comm came on. “Attention all crew and passengers. Warramala transition commencing. Five, four, three, two, one.”



Conversation, which had been stiff in Wildstein’s presence, turned to upcoming shore leave and things to do.



Vu added, “There’s great shopping.”



“The best thing about Warramala is the rain forest,” Wildstein said.

“Solitude for kilometers.”



“I like the mountains.” Rokutan motioned for Ashmont to refill his wineglass. He had come to dinner at Jodenny’s request, and now gave her a smile. “Good hiking.”



Maybe one day they would go into the wilderness together. Back-packs, boots, a tent for two. Myell would be nicer to curl up beside, their sleeping bags zippered together, their legs entwined. She reached for her wine. Tony, she thought. Tony not Terry.



“I’m an ocean girl myself,” Hultz said. “Surfing, skiing, scuba—all good things.”



“I’d like to try scuba.” Rokutan’s gaze caught Jodenny’s. Another thing they could try together, perhaps. She smiled. After dinner Rokutan invited her to his cabin, as they both knew he would. She accepted, as they both knew she would. Within minutes she was sit-ting on his bed as he kissed her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her throat. He smelled like wine.



“What are you thinking?” he asked.



She was thinking there was no such thing as easy sex, no matter what people said. Not on a spaceship and not when the person was someone you worked with.



“I’m thinking this is just what the doctor ordered,” she lied.



Rokutan eased her back and began unbuttoning her blouse. “Is that all I am to you? A prescription?”



Jodenny touched his jaw. “A panacea.”



“A substitute for the real thing?”



“That’s a placebo,” she said.



Without a hint as to whether he’d been joking, Rokutan bent his mouth to the cleft between her breasts. Jodenny felt dizzy, as if she’d had too much to drink. She ran her fingers through his short hair and closed her eyes and damn it, it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t the one she wanted.



“Terry,” she said.



He lifted his head. “What?”



“What?” Jodenny asked.



Rokutan’s eyes narrowed. Jodenny fingered the fringes of hair at his temple. He dipped his head to kiss her right nipple and yes, that felt nice, and there he was planting hot kisses above her belly button. She needed escape. She needed unconditional touching. She needed to get out of her own mind, to slide along in frictionless darkness just as the Aral Sea slid along in the Alcheringa.



But to escape at the expense of someone else wasn’t her style.



Jodenny put her hands on the side of Rokutan’s head and lifted him gently. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”



“It’s good enough for the here and now.”



She slid her feet to the floor and sat up. Her fingers shook slightly as she rebuttoned her blouse. “I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to you.”



“I hate when women say that,” Rokutan said with a sigh. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Look, Jo-denny, whatever’s going through your head, this isn’t about true love, right? We’re friends and colleagues. Friends and colleagues who both need a little unwinding and relaxing. Nothing more and nothing less.”



Jodenny’s fingers stilled.



“Whoever you’re pining for, he’s a lucky guy,” Rokutan said. “But he’s not here, and I am. We both are. So, you know, take advantage of what you have in front of you, not what’s behind or ahead of you. Live in this moment, not some other one. They only come one at a time.”



He kissed the corner of her mouth, and she let him. Terry…



* * * *



B

erthing was quiet at such a late hour. Jodenny was almost back to her cabin when Chief Nitta stepped into the passage. His uniform was disheveled and he had a mean look in his eyes, as if he’d been off kicking puppies and kittens.



“Chief,” she said. “What are you doing here?”



“Bitch,” he said.



Jodenny put her hands on her hips, using the gesture to activate the emergency button on her gib. “Go back to your quarters, Chief.”




“I’d go back to work, but you kicked me out.” Spit appeared at the corner of his mouth as he took an unsteady, menacing step for-ward. “You think you can ruin my career? Since day one you’ve been breaking my balls, trying to get me in trouble. Where’s the in-ventory, Chief? Where’s the f*cking COSALs? I’ve got people giv-ing me all sorts of shit because you can’t keep your whiny mouth shut—“



“How much have you had to drink, Chief?”



He gave her a lopsided smile. “You think you’re special, but you’re not. We can hurt you when you least expect it—”



Jodenny calculated the distance back to the lift. She could physi-cally defend herself if necessary, but he was heavier and stronger than she was, and unpredictable. Retreat might be the better part of valor.



“—and you’ll never know. You’ll be facedown dead and never know.”



He coughed harshly. Blood appeared on his lips. “Chief?” she asked, alarmed, and he managed a flash of surprise before he crashed to the floor.



Jodenny palmed her gib. “Holland, I need help. Medics and Secu-rity, right away.”



“Security’s already on its way,” Holland said. “Are you hurt, Lieu-tenant?”



“Not me,” Jodenny said as Nitta began convulsing. Hultz and Zeni both appeared at the doors of their cabins, woken by the commotion or by their own agents.



“What the hell?” Zeni asked as Nitta gasped and bucked on the floor.



“What’s he doing in officers’ country?” Hultz asked.



Quenger came out of his cabin rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Jesus shit,” he said, and kept his distance.



“Medbot, activate,” Jodenny ordered, but the unit could do little. Froth was coming out of Nitta’s mouth by the time the medics carted him off. Jodenny would have followed but two Security techs asked her to come make a statement. She went with them, acutely aware of Zeni, Hultz, and Quenger watching her as she went. While she was waiting in Picariello’s office a tech brought her tasteless coffee and told her Chief Nitta had died in Sick Berth. Jodenny made him repeat the information twice.



“Died of what?” she asked.



“I’m sure they’ll do an autopsy, ma’am,” the tech said.



Senga poked his head in once but didn’t ask her questions. Picariello, when he arrived, asked why she’d been out in the passage so late at night.



“That’s personal, sir,” she said.



Picariello raised an eyebrow. Jodenny kept her face as blank as she could. Her personal life was her own, damn it, and had nothing to do with Nitta being somewhere he didn’t belong.



“Do you think Chief Nitta wanted revenge for being transferred out of Underway Stores?” Picariello asked.



She had already considered the idea. “He might have been mad about it, but he wasn’t dumb.”



Al-Banna arrived, grumpy at being roused from sleep. Jodenny re-peated the story for the umpteenth time. His expression turned thun-derous as she described what happened.



“Goddamn Sweet,” he said.



Picariello said, “We won’t know for sure until the autopsy.”



Jodenny looked at both men in bewilderment. “He was using Sweet?”

she asked. Impossible. She would have noticed. Then again, hadn’t he displayed all the classic signs? Mood swings. Unexplained absences from work. As a division officer she was supposed to notice such things, and to refer sailors to appropriate counseling or treat-ment programs.



“There have been rumors.” Picariello checked the clock. “In any case, it’s late. Go get some rest, Lieutenant.”



“Take tomorrow off,” Al-Banna added.



“No, sir.” Jodenny stood, her legs like rubber. “I’ll be fine.”



Picariello motioned for a guard. “Escort Lieutenant Scott back to her cabin.”



She went, and all the way back she saw only Nitta’s wide, unseeing eyes, like so many of the dead on the Yangtze.



* * * *



T

hat same night, over at Minutiae, Myell and Eva ate steamers culled from the ship’s artificial seabeds and mushrooms drizzled with tofu cheese. Eva had a glass of wine. Myell kept a clear head. Small talk consisted of comments about their work, shipmates, berthing, and hobbies. Eva didn’t like her job much and disliked her roommate, who brought strange men home unexpectedly. Myell allowed that he wasn’t sure about his new job but had a great roommate.



Eva squeezed his hand. “You’re lucky.”



The conversation stayed casual. Myell wasn’t brave enough to at-tempt anything that would require more than pleasant nods or excla-mations of agreement—topics such as How I Adore My Division Officer, or How the Last Girl I Dated Cried Rape. When the bill came, they split it fifty-fifty and strolled down the Rocks to an ice cream shop. She ordered chocolate chip on a sugar cone. He opted for butter pecan in a cup. If she noticed that they were being surreptitiously trailed by Gallivan, she didn’t mention it. A full moon had been grammed onto the dome above, and as they drew closer to the main gazebo they heard snazzy tunes from a swing band. Couples spun and dipped in the plaza.



“Do you dance?” she asked.



“No.”



“Will you try?”



He would try, even though dancing reminded him of the school dances back on Baiame. The pretty girls had always flocked to Colby, the weak ones to Daris. Eva tugged him into the crowd, arranged his arm around her waist, and placed her hand on his shoulder.



“Move forward, back, side. Forward, back, side. You’ve got it, Terry.”



Her breasts pressed against his chest. Myell tried to relax but he suspected that he looked as awkward as he felt. Gallivan was proba-bly laughing his ass off.



“Maybe we should get more ice cream,” he said.



Eva kissed his cheek. “Not now. I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”



He tried to let the music carry him, but was entirely too aware of her warmth and closeness. Myell tried thinking about Jodenny and her betrayal of their pact by talking to Ng, but the clamminess in his hands and tightness in his chest kept him firmly rooted in the off-balance present. If Eva noticed his anxiety, she chose not to comment on it. Her smile stayed wide, and when his steps faltered her guidance kept them going.



“My ribs are starting to hurt,” he said. “Let me take you home.”



He walked her back to Admin berthing, where the lights had been turned down in the lounge and couples snuggled on the sofas. Eva put her hand on Myell’s arm. “My roommate’s on duty. Want to come in?”



“Never on a first date.”



“Don’t you believe in seizing the moment?”



“I believe the best things are worth waiting for,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek.



Gallivan caught up to him in the lift. “Why didn’t you take her to bed?”



Myell cuffed him. “Two words. Wendy Ford.”



“You don’t think—” Gallivan didn’t finish his words. “You did think.”



That Chiba might have sent Eva to find out what he knew or sus-pected? Of course he had. “And I made sure no false accusations could be made,” he added, holding up the pocket server.



“You recorded everything?” Gallivan asked. At Myell’s nod he said,


“Smart bucko.”



They returned to Supply berthing. The minute they stepped off the lift Myell sensed something wrong. Far too many people were clustered in the lounge and passageway, their faces showing shock or satisfaction.



“It’s Nitta,” VanAmsal said grimly. “He’s dead.”



“Lieutenant Scott found him,” Amador said.



Lange snickered. “Maybe they were together. Maybe she was f*ck-ing him.”



Myell punched him in the face. Lange went sailing backward over the sofa. Gallivan and Amador dragged Myell to his and Timrin’s cabin and sat on him until some semblance of reason returned.



“Got your Irish up, did he?” Gallivan asked.



Timrin pulled a bottle of whiskey from his locker. “Give him a belt of this.”



Myell threw back a shot. “What did he die of?”



“Looks like Sweet,” Timrin said. “Message boards say he tested positive this morning, but you know how reliable they are. I never fig-ured him for it.”



Myell drank some more of the whiskey. He’d heard occasional ru-mors about Nitta, but nothing worth paying attention to. His gaze fell on Koo’s terrarium. The rocks were bare, and her favorite corner was empty. He lifted the lid and peered inside, dread mixing with the alcohol to make his stomach churn.



“Where is she?” he demanded.



“Where’s who?” Gallivan asked, bewildered.



Myell moved around the rocks and plants. “Koo. Where did she go?”



He lifted blankets, shook out boots, and even searched through desk drawers, but Koo was nowhere to be found. Timrin and Galli-van both tried to assure him she’d turn up, but he imagined her somehow tangled up in the morning laundry and gone down the chute. Or maybe Chiba had broken in and caused her harm—



“Wherever she is, she’s fine,” Timrin said.



In the morning Lange muttered an apology, but Myell barely ac-knowledged it. The mood at quarters was grim and Jodenny was pale as she addressed the division.



“As you know, Chief Nitta passed away during the night,” she said.

“His death is a great loss to the department and to the ship. There will be a memorial service this afternoon in Hangar Bay 3. Uniform is service dress with medals. I expect you all to be there. Underway Stores, dismissed.”



Myell and Caldicot trammed over to the office, but Jodenny didn’t. Caldicot was off running errands when she finally returned. Myell brought her a large cup of coffee.



“Thank you,” she said, standing by the wallvid and looking at the inky blackness of the Alcheringa.



“Did you get any sleep at all?”



“It doesn’t matter. You’ve seen one dying sailor, you’ve seen them all, right?”



Myell closed the hatch. Jodenny covered her face with both hands and said, through tears, “Damn it, I didn’t even like him.”



“No one did,” Myell said.



Her shoulders shook. He couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Myell put his arms around her and rubbed a small circle of comfort on her back as she cried against his shoulder. He asked, “Should I call some-one?

Commander Vu?”



“No,” Jodenny sniffed. She pulled away. “I’m fine.”



“Jodenny,” he said, and it was the first time he’d ever used her given name.



She reached for a tissue. “I just need to be alone for a few minutes. Off with you before Caldicot starts wondering.”



Myell went, leaving her alone, cursing himself as a coward for do-ing so.



* * * *



T

he memorial service was held in the ship’s auditorium. The chiefs’ mess made an impressive turnout, with rank after rank at parade rest for the entire ceremony. Underway Stores showed up, more or less, and most of Maintenance. Even Osherman was there.



“Sit with me, Lieutenant,” he said.



“No.”



“Stop being a stubborn pain in the ass and just sit,” he said.



Though Jodenny hated to admit it, there was some comfort in hav-ing him by her side. She shifted in her chair, sensing accusing stares leveled at the back of her head. But what had she done? Nitta had been the one trespassing in officers’ country. Nitta had been the one who threatened her.



Master Chief DiSola began the eulogy. “I first met Hiroji back in Supply School…”



Jodenny told herself she wasn’t going to cry. She already regretted breaking down on Myell’s shoulder. What kind of leadership was that?

Nitta’s death was hitting her so hard only because of the Yangtze, she decided. At the reception afterward, people expressed their condolences to Jodenny as though she’d lost someone impor-tant, and she resented them for it. Half the people offering sympathy about Nitta hadn’t even liked him. The Aral Sea was a ship full of hyp-ocrites, and she herself was probably the biggest of them all.



Quenger and Chiba were at the reception, of course, as was Myell. Jodenny watched them circle the room but never approach each other.



Later that night Holland told her, “Sick Berth has released the au-topsy report on Chief Nitta, Lieutenant. He officially died of an over-dose of Sweet.”



Jodenny blamed herself for not seeing the symptoms. But if he had been cruising on a Sweet high when she saw him, maybe the nonsense about enemies and hurting her had been just that, non-sense. After all, Picariello and Al-Banna had both told her that it was nothing but the ravings of chemicals and hallucinations.



A comforting thought.



She didn’t believe it for a moment.



* * * *