The Outback Stars (24 page)

He really should have gone AWOL back on Kookaburra.

Myell got up to use the bathroom and found himself standing outside the guest room. He wanted, more than anything, to open the door and see that she was sleeping okay. Of course she was. She was an adult, and she'd done a lot of sleeping in her life. All he needed to do to cement his sordid reputation was to be caught leering at her while she slept.

Back to the sofa he went. And punched his pillow some more, until sleep took him away. Somehow Colby and Dottie kept the kids quiet in the morning, because he didn't awaken until well after sunrise. Bleary-eyed and groggy, he padded barefoot toward the kitchen in search of coffee. The kids, Jodenny, and Dottie were in the backyard, playing softball with the basebot. He stepped out onto the back porch to watch them.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Dottie said.

Jodenny took her position at the plate. The basebot threw a pitch. She swung, but the ball sailed safely past her bat into Jake's glove.

“You swing like a girl,” Jake said.

Myell choked on his coffee.

“Hold it higher,” Jake said helpfully. “Swing from your hips.”

Such attractive hips they were, too. Jodenny had borrowed pants and a short-sleeved shirt from Dottie. Her loose hair, freed from its customary braid, fell halfway down her back in dark, luscious curls. Jodenny's next swing sent the ball sailing into left field. Adryn sprinted to second base.

Jake pulled off his mask. “Come on, Uncle Terry! You're up!”

He stayed where he was. “I don't think so.”

“We need another runner, and Mom won't do it,” Adryn said.

“Yeah, come on,” Jake wheedled.

Myell waited for Jodenny to join in the persuasive attempts, but she only smiled at something across the field. He ambled to home plate and hit the first pitch the basebot threw. The ball sailed high and landed somewhere near the barn. While the basebot hurried to retrieve it, Adryn, Jodenny, and Myell all crossed home plate.

“Apparently, you don't swing like a girl,” Jodenny told him, smiling.

Erma fixed breakfast. Colby's came in from the pasture to partake of soy sausage and pancakes. Myell sat across the table from Jodenny and tried to keep the conversation focused on the kids' school projects, but Colby's and Dottie's curiosity wouldn't be denied.

“So what do you do, Kay?” Colby asked.

“Paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork.”

Jake speared his soy sausages with a fork. “When I grow up I'm going to join Team Space like Uncle Terry.”

Dottie asked, “Have you ever been in space, Kay?”

Jodenny replied, “Yes. It's lovely. Adryn, what about you? What are you going to do when you grow up?”

Adryn chewed her food before answering. “A vet. I have a horse. Want to see?”

“After breakfast,” Colby said.

“I've only been in space once,” Dottie said. “Colby and I emigrated from Baiame.”

Jodenny reached for her glass. “You didn't like it there?”

“More infrastructure and opportunities here,” Colby said. “Inexpensive land, good programs for farmers. Baiame's a tough place to raise a family and keep a farm going.”

“My grandparents had a farm there,” Jake offered. “Everything went to seed after Grandma killed herself and Grandpa started to drink.”

Myell shot Colby a frosty look. He had always figured Colby had told the kids about his childhood, but those particular details hadn't really been necessary. All they needed to know about their grandmother was that she had come from Australia as a little girl, had been pretty and smart, and that she had died. The Myell family story devolved quickly after that, and it was not one to be shared with children at bedtime or lieutenants at breakfast.

Dottie said, “I think both of you kids are done eating. Get to your chores.”

“I'm going to clean off and go pack,” Myell said to Jodenny. “After that we can be on our way back to New Christchurch.”

He showered quickly, hoping Dottie wasn't explaining to Jodenny exactly what Jake had been talking about. She might be his division officer, but his family's history was none of her business. Myell rinsed off, threw on clean clothes, and went to pack his things. Dottie was in the guest room with his mother's teak jewelry box in hand.

“You should take this,” she said.

Myell grabbed his rucksack. “You keep it.”

“It's not—” Quite unexpectedly, she threw her arms around him and murmured, “I know it's hard. But she loved you.”

He squeezed her tight. “Give it to Adryn. Honestly, what would I do with it on a starship? Someone would probably steal it, anyway.”

Dottie didn't argue with him, but she didn't look happy, either. “I'll go make you some lunch to take with you.”

He finished packing, made sure he had left nothing behind, and brought his rucksack outside. Colby had driven the flit up from the lane and was sitting on the hood, twisting a piece of straw between his fingers. Myell dropped his bag into the backseat.

Colby said, “Jake has a big mouth. But there's nothing wrong with talking about it.”

“There's a time and a place,” Myell said.

“Not with you,” Colby replied. “There's never been a time or a place.”

Myell didn't answer. The screen door on the porch swung open as Dottie, Jodenny, and the kids appeared. Jake and Adryn carried a large picnic basket to the flit and argued over where best to put it. Colby got to his feet and said, “We'll send pictures soon as the baby's born. Make sure you get back here before your namesake gets too old, right?”

“I will,” Myell said. “You take care.”

Jodenny again thanked Colby and Dottie for their hospitality and got into the flit. Myell gave Dottie and the kids hugs and shook Colby's hand.

“Promise you'll write,” Dottie said, and he did.

Myell climbed behind the steering controls and started the flit down the lane. Jodenny said nothing in the seat beside him, and for that he was grateful. Both his gib and pocket server were at the bottom of his rucksack, far from any useful implementation.

When they reached the main road he asked, “Why didn't you want them to know who you were?”

“It was easier if they didn't know I was your boss.”

Easier for her, maybe. Now that they had left the farm, he was incontrovertibly under her command again. That, if anything, was a reminder of why he wanted to leave Team Space. In truth, she had still been his superior officer when she was in that nightgown.

“How did you get stranded out of town?” he asked.

Jodenny rolled her window down. “It's not important.”

One of the scenarios he'd envisioned during the long night kept gnawing at him. “Did someone just dump you in the middle of nowhere?” he asked.

“No, but that was the story I was going to tell anyone who asked too much.” Her tone indicated that was all the answer he was going to get. “Once we get back to the ship, you shouldn't mention this to anyone. It wouldn't be in either of our best interests.”

“Should I give you the car and walk back into town on my own, so people don't see us together?”

She sounded annoyed. “You know as well as I do what damage gossip does.”

“I know what damage lying does,” he answered.

She didn't answer. Myell gave up trying to pretend they were two normal people having a normal conversation. Kay, the woman who'd played baseball and admired a little girl's horse, had been left behind at the farm. If she had ever existed at all.

“What was said about my mother…” Myell kept his eyes on the road. “I'd appreciate it if that didn't get repeated.”

Jodenny made a small surprised sound. “I wouldn't. Never.”

He nodded. Another kilometer passed before Jodenny said, “I read the report from Loss Accounting about the missing dingo. Sergeant Rosegarten confirmed that it wasn't your fault.”

“Good,” Myell said.

“I heard Chief Chiba's been giving you trouble.”

Myell turned south onto Bethlehem Parkway. The local Spheres appeared, solid and unyielding against the sky. “Nothing that you need to worry about, Lieutenant.”

Jodenny made a small skeptical sound.

“Chiba just likes to show off,” Myell insisted. “Has the power and likes to use it. Don't tell me there aren't officers who do the same thing, because we both know differently.”

“There's a difference between showing off and bullying. That fight last week between the two divisions—someone could have gotten seriously hurt.”

Myell hadn't forgotten about the clash. “I didn't ask anyone to get involved.”

“If you knew someone in your division was being harassed, you wouldn't take the initiative to intervene?”

Damn her for making it sound so easy. Myell decided silence was his best strategy. Jodenny turned her head to the window and, after a moment, said, “Stop for a moment, will you?”

Warily Myell pulled the flit over.

“Do we have time to swing by those Spheres?” she asked.

He checked the clock. “If you want. The next birdie doesn't leave until late this afternoon.”

Myell angled the flit across the fields and parked in a dirt lot. Jodenny said, “I'll be back in a few,” and headed off with a water bottle in hand. He sat on the hood with his arms crossed, glad for the shade of the Father Sphere. Two eagles chased each other across the sky, but the grandeur of the site was ruined by overflowing trash bins and graffiti on the historic site marker. That was a shame. Like the pyramids of Earth, the Spheres deserved to be protected and preserved. But then again Spheres had never held archaeological treasure or dead pharaohs. They were as much a mystery as the Alcheringa itself, and such mysteries lost their allure as decades passed.

“Lieutenant?” he called out. “Anything in particular you're looking for?”

Jodenny emerged from the Mother Sphere. “No. Someone told me a theory, that's all. A stupid idea.”

A low, mournful sound filled the air, like someone blowing an animal's horn. The noise stiffened the hairs on the back of Myell's neck. He slid off the hood and scanned the horizon, but it seemed to be coming from the interior of the Mother Sphere. Jodenny turned toward it.

“Careful, Lieutenant.”

“It must be a trick of the wind,” she said. “Spheres don't make noise.”

The horn died away, leaving his ears ringing. When Jodenny started toward the arched entrance he said, “You sure that's a good idea?”

Jodenny gave him a considering glance and headed inside. He grabbed the torch from the flit and followed her under the arch inscribed with Wondjina runes. He had been inside Spheres before, of course. Sometimes, when Daris was in a particularly bad mood, he and Colby had taken refuge in the group a few kilometers from their farm. Once inside this one, it took a moment for Myell's eyes to adjust to the darkness. As he played the light over its interior he saw a large metal ring lying in the dirt. It was some kind of welded sculpture, at least three meters in diameter. The sight of it made him distinctly uneasy.

“This wasn't here a minute ago,” Jodenny said.

“We should leave,” he said.

Jodenny tilted her head at it, stepped back, then crouched down and put her hand on the ring. “It's an ouroboros. A snake eating its tail.”

Myell wanted to backtrack to the flit, but he wasn't about to leave her alone. He bent low and thumbed the metal. It was roughly the width of his forearm and was faintly warm, as if it had been sitting in the sun and not inside a stone structure. He cocked his head, noting scales and wings, swirls and whorls.

“It's a Rainbow Serpent,” he said.

“A what?”

Old childhood stories came to mind, along with the unsettling visions he'd had of the shaman. “Created the lands and rivers and all who live in it. Made the world itself.”

“My mythology's a little rusty.” Jodenny gingerly stepped inside the ring.

“Lieutenant,” he warned. “I really think we should get out of here.”

She probably thought this was one big adventure. Something to tell the wardroom about, or put in her performance evaluation. Supply lieutenant discovers ancient sculpture. But the weight of the Sphere pressed down on Myell and he could almost feel the shaman's glare on the back of his skull. “Lieutenant,” he said again as she crouched down to the inside of the serpent.

“There are two symbols here. Like Wondjina runes.”

Swallowing hard, he forced himself into the ring alongside her. The symbols were deeply etched into the metal, and spaced just a few centimeters apart.

Jodenny pointed at the first one. “At the risk of sounding caffeine-deprived, that looks like a cup of coffee.”

Myell squinted. He supposed she could interpret it that way, though he wasn't so sure. The symbols weren't like any Wondjina runes he'd ever seen.

“And this one could be a slice of pie,” Jodenny said, indicating the second symbol but being careful not to touch it.

The horn sounded again. This time it sounded like it was coming from the dome of the Mother Sphere itself, and the vibrations rattled the back of his teeth. “It's a warning,” he said.

“Maybe just some kind of announcement.”

“Or a General Quarters alarm—” Myell started, but then a wall of yellow light swept over them and cut off his words. The light shoved him hard through what felt like a brick wall. When his senses returned he was on both knees, dazed and coughing. The serpent ring was intact and the Mother Sphere unchanged around them.

“What was that?” he asked.

Jodenny grabbed his arm, barely able to stand. “Let's get out of here.”

They mutually supported each other out of the Sphere and into the muted green sunlight of a tropical jungle. Humid air redolent of dirt and rot pressed in on Myell from all sides. He slid bonelessly to his knees, sweat already beading between his shoulder blades.