Delagarza sat next to her. He could see the fear lurking behind her hardened exterior. He put a hand over hers, trying to tell her it was all going to be alright even if he didn’t believe it himself.
She deserves better, he reminded himself. She deserved the truth.
“I get it, Jamilia. But whether we like it or not, this is happening. Even if the enforcers find the real Isabella and kill her, do you really think they’ll manage to keep it a secret? She hid this long and people still found out. And people will find out about this, sooner or later. A year down the road, a decade down the road, it’s all the same. The Edge will know.”
And fire will follow.
Charleton squeezed Delagarza’s hand, but she was looking elsewhere, lost in thought.
“So, war is coming no matter what we do?”
“Can’t you feel it?” Delagarza said. “It’s in the air. It’s been brewing since that Earther spaceship parked in Jagal and made half of Tal-Kader’s leadership its bitches.”
Since then, crime was on the rise. Startowns like Taiga sprang into existence across the spaceports of half the Edge, a dozen pirate organizations scoured the Backwater Systems, hell, half of those were sponsored by the Systems themselves. Young kids roaming the streets, orphans of unnamed wars and skirmishes against Earth and the EIF. Those kids grew up to become gangers, or mercenaries, or they fell in the hands of evil corporation that used them for their experiments.
Yes, something was brewing in the Edge. And when news of Isabella Reiner reached the courier ships, all hell would break loose.
It would make survival a tall order for the little guy, for people like Delagarza, and Cooke, and Charleton. The ones who only tried to survive day to day.
Their only hope was ensuring that, when war came, it focused on someone who could take it. Tal-Kader.
Delagarza had to get Isabella to the EIF.
“You’re going to fight,” said Charleton. “I can see it in your eyes. I’ve known people, men, who had the same glint you have now, Samuel. They’d grow tired of Alwinter’s cold, of watching people freeze to death while others grew fat and complacent. They’d say less, every time, until they said nothing at all. Then, they’d just leave. Join the EIF, or the Defense Fleet, or become pirates. None of them has ever returned. I think they’re all dead.”
“Trust me, I can take care of myself,” Delagarza said. He flashed her a grin. It felt nice to have someone that worried for him. It was an egotistical thought, to feel happy because of that. But Delagarza was an egotistical man, he had made his peace with that.
It was nice to know she’d feel sad when he left, because it meant he had been real. Not merely the hallucination of some genetic abomination trained by an extinct corporation.
“Stay,” Charleton offered, “with me. Let’s give it another try, alright? We forget about all this, we lie low, we leave the planet if we must. I’ve connections. I could arrange it.”
It wasn’t a real offer, Delagarza knew. Only a moment’s weakness by a woman who had grown to see her share of war and lose her share of loved ones to senseless slaughter.
The Charleton he knew was a fighter, and she was Alwinter pure and through. She’d never leave.
He caressed her cheek, softly, like he wasn’t sure his hand was real bone and meat. He felt the warmth of her skin pouring into his own, a tiny marvel of thermodynamics, a trivial transfer of heat that could make all the difference for the right people, at the right time.
“Sure,” he told her. “I’ll stay with you. Whatever you want.”
Charleton laughed and swatted his hand away, in a playful manner. “Liar,” she said. “You were always a terrible liar, Samuel Delagarza.”
Delagarza laughed, too, because Daneel Hirsen considered himself the perfect liar.
Seems like all of Newgen’s experiments still can’t fool a woman like her.
Hirsen said nothing, he wasn’t at his usual spot at the edge of his subconscious. Good. Delagarza and Charleton were alone.
“I don’t have to leave today, you know,” he told her.
She cleaned some wetness away from her eye. The moment of weakness had passed, she was back to her old self. But she was thinking about his offer. She cleaned her finger on the tablecloth. Had they been outside, the half-formed tear would’ve turned to ice by then.
At some point of their conversation, they’d gotten awfully close to each other. Thermodynamics at work again.
The citizens of Alwinter knew that transfer of heat was the real meaning of life. They learned it since birth, from the very instant their lives were tied to their reg-suits and their life-support machines. Always watching out for the next blizzard, keeping an eye on their battery pack readouts, spending a fortune in maintenance.
Keep the fire going, just another day. Worry about the next one later. Don’t let the hearth burn out. Huddle together during the long night, hope to whatever God is watching you’ll wake up the next morning. Cross your fingers the life-support won’t shut down, that the air-recycling won’t fail.
All matter runs out of heat, eventually. The history of the universe can be summarized by saying, ‘A lot of things ran hot for a while, but eventually, they cooled off.’
Charleton grasped the back of Delagarza’s neck and pushed him to her. They kissed, clumsily at first, while their bodies slowly remembered each other's touch.
The kiss grew hungrier. Hands groped and fought against reg-suits that kept their heat apart. Charleton pulled away, just an inch.
“What’s that you used to say?”
“Alwinter’s nights are best spent with someone to help keep your sheets warm.”
“My sheets have been awfully cold, lately. Will you help me, Sam?”
“Anything the lady wishes,” he said. “What kind of gentleman would I be otherwise?”
They retreated to her bedroom, laughing like teenagers. The bedroom’s heating system could keep them warm and nice without their reg-suits, which fell to the floor, instantly forgotten.
Keep the fire going. Life’s all about thermodynamics.
SYSTEMS ALLIANCE DESTROYER Vortex reached Elus Star System that same night. The light of its arrival reached Outlander while Charleton and Delagarza slept, along with a message from the vessel. The message carried detailed instructions for the enforcers stationed in Outlander, and a public transmission to be sent to the population of Dione.
The Vortex would take five days to reach the planet, but the people became aware the very morning that Delagarza awoke with Charleton next to him and noticed the blinking light of his wristband warning him of a public message waiting for his attention.
“Denizens of planet Dione,” said a man dressed like a captain but with the demeanor of a corporate drone, “this is Captain Riley Erickson of the Vortex. Your planet has been found guilty of harboring terrorist organizations planning to destabilize the Edge and its people. My ship is here for your protection. To purge the planet’s infestation, Dione and its colony will be put under martial law, according to the procedures indicated in the Systems Alliance Constitution, Law IX-two, sub-heading three. More information will follow shortly. Contact your local enforcement unit if you have any doubts or have information regarding the terrorists and their whereabouts. Remember, if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. By the grace of the Gods and the heroes of our independence, this is Captain Erickson. End transmission.”
The next message came from a man who made Delagarza’s blood run cold. Strauze’s shark-like smile had the fiendish edge of a predator whose prey is being stolen right under his nose. He explained the martial laws protocols in a practiced monotone.
Charleton shifted in her sleep. Delagarza closed the message and looked at the window. It was freezing outside. Life-support must have failed again. How many people had died in their sleep, this time?