"I don’t know what I want more," she murmured eventually. "The man or his military har…no, I’m not going to make that pun."
Retreating indoors to tip away the drinks, she fetched herself a coat, and then went on an earlier-than-usual walk, delighting in the novelty of such a thick mist—and grateful for the interface, which told her where the path was even when she couldn’t see it.
It did not take long at all to reach her favourite seat. She was there in plenty of time to watch the morning flight pass by, not quite overhead and barely visible through white.
Then she settled down to think.
"You’re going to wear an imprint of your ass onto that seat."
"That would only make it more comfortable," Laura said, miming astonishment at the sight of her sister, not only up before midday, but before breakfast. "So you’re a morning person now?"
"I was photographing the mist," Sue said, tapping the box hanging from a strap over her shoulder with a show of conscious virtue. "These scanners pick it up pretty well—I got a few nice shots."
Since Sue didn’t have the red-eyed and wired look of one of her all-nighters, Laura assumed that she’d succeeded in waking thanks to an early alarm—and not for the weather. Nor was she inclined to beat around the bush.
"Spill. Did he break out the witty repartee? Bore you witless? Were there push-ups?"
Laura couldn’t keep back a helpless snort, and Sue bent to peer into Laura’s face.
"Wait. Are we talking Tab A, Slot B?" She added a highly direct ASL sign, and Laura’s expression in response prompted a crow of delighted approbation. "Fast work, big sis! And?"
"Oh, he’s ruined me for other men, certainly." Laura managed a coolly detached voice, but then shook her head. "I’m not even sure I’m joking."
"Wicked," Sue said, demonstrating where Julian sourced his vocabulary. "But…is there a reason you’re sitting out here wearing the Pensive Face? Please don’t tell me this was a one-off."
"Well, he’s gone back to Tare. But he is coming to dinner again, after the celebrations are over next week. And no, he wasn’t boring to talk to. Given he was describing the creation of the Setari, it would be an achievement to be dull, and he was simply matter-of-fact and unfussed by Julian’s flood of questions. I’m…I’m not altogether sure that witty repartee is his thing, though."
"No-o," Sue said, judiciously. "Serious Soldier to the core, that one. Intelligent, not entirely without humour or sympathy, but don’t expect snappy patter. Most definitely the type whose life revolves around his job. But that would suit you, I think: you like your alone time. So, fantastic sex, not intolerable to talk to, at least willing to put up with Julian. And yet, Pensive Face."
"Name one thing we have in common."
Sue’s eyebrows shot up, then her eyes narrowed and she said: "Cass."
"In that my daughter’s part of his job? Very funny. But think about it, Sue. Do you think he’s a reader—of any sort of fiction, let alone my sort of fiction? I’ve never pictured myself with a man who doesn’t inhale at least one book a week."
"He’s a psychic space soldier. I’d call it an ideal match myself. You love science fiction and he is…"
"But that’s exactly it. It’s not fiction to him. It’s not entertainment. His whole life has been…" Laura paused, and then sent Sue an interface link. "Read that."
Sue’s expressive face made it easy to follow her progress through the linked article. First simple interest as she saw that it was a detailed record of the Tasken Outbreak. A grimace as she watched the first short video of the Ena-born monsters that had poured through a tear in the walls between dimensions. A crease between her brows as she read statistics, details. And then stillness, as she reached the description of the aftermath. Of the recovery of a small boy from an apartment with no other survivors.
"Partially eaten?"
"If I have a regret about yesterday, it’s not researching Gidds a little more before letting Julian loose on him. How he ended up working for KOTIS, why he’d trained himself so intensely, those aren’t entertaining things. He side-stepped the details, but there’s no way that can be something he likes talking about."
Sue was frowning, still reading. "So you’re saying…what? You like fiction and he’s too real?"
"No. There…there just seems to me a vast disconnect between someone who likes to read about SF-nal universes, and someone for whom those plotlines are anything but entertaining. An inherent mismatch."
Sue looked at her. Then, apparently struggling to control her expression, she pronounced a single word.
"Twit."
"Very helpful."
"You’re not usually so silly. Yes, he really does have a tragic backstory, and I vaguely regret putting it in those terms. But he’s not a child, he’s pushing forty. He’s taken what happened to him, set out to prevent it happening to others, and succeeded. You’re not going to traumatise him because you can deconstruct a trope at twenty paces, and Ellen Ripley is how you relax."
Laura had known all along that was true, but it helped to be told. She was so lucky to have Sue with her.
"Is there anything you regret, coming here?" she asked, impulsively. "You had a reputation, on Earth. A professional network, and so many friends,
Sue shrugged. "I don’t miss my hearing aids. I miss Bet. I would have missed Nick, but since he ended up coming along, I get to enjoy being semi-parental with him again. He’s such a good kid and, worrying about his father aside, this is the happiest I’ve seen him. As for my reputation, I’m building a new one, and have even sold some photo compilations."
"Really? I haven’t sold a thing."
"I’ve made almost enough to buy a cup of coffee, if there was coffee to be had. Coffee, now, that I’m going to miss. I’m down to hold-out rations of what I brought with me already. But watching you tie yourself in knots over Serious Soldier almost makes up for that."
"It is my honour to serve."
"And I thank you for sacrificing yourself on the altar of hot sex and quality cuddles. So try not to go overthinking things."
Laura saluted, and then they paused appreciatively to watch another flight lift over the distant city of Pandora, and waft past for their consideration.
It was unlikely that Laura could put doubts aside entirely, no matter how often she told herself it was all really quite simple. She didn’t think Gidds was a simple man, even if his approach had been very straightforward. The break before seeing him again would probably be a good thing, so long as she followed Sue’s advice and didn’t work herself up into knots. Five days until the Thanksgiving Ceremony, and ten until…until another night of Gidds.
Chapter Seven
"Mum, are you two ready—oh, hey, Princess Leia!"
"Who?" Lira asked, suspiciously.
"The person I’m modelling your hairstyle after," Laura told the girl, then paused, frowning over at Cass standing in the doorway. "Wait. You haven’t shown them Star Wars? Are you sure you’re my daughter?"
"I haven’t subtitled anything since Tyrian was born," Cass said. "Between him and working again, I hardly ever find any spare time, and KOTIS is always pushing me to do more BBC nature documentaries anyway. You should do it for language practice."
"I will," Laura said, and then shared with Lira a still of the Cloud City escape, so she understood who they were talking about. "It’s a style that only works for people with such long, thick hair as yours, Lira."