Abe had a second-floor corner apartment, with a bedroom for each of them, a living room, study, and small kitchen. From her room, Sass looked into a central courtyard planted with flowers and one small tree with drooping leaves. From the living room she could see across a wide street to a similar building across from them. It felt amazingly spacious and light; she spent hours, at first, watching people in the street below, or looking out across the city. For their apartment, like most, stood on one of the low hills that faced the harbour.
Regg itself was a terraformed planet, settled first by the usual colonists, in their case agricultural specialists, and then chosen as Fleet Headquarters because of its position in human-dominated space. Here in its central city. Fleet was the dominant force. Abe took Sassinak touring: to the big blocky buildings of Headquarters itself, all sheathed in white marble, to the riverside parks that ended in the great natural harbour, a wide almost circular bay of deep blue water edged in gray cliffs on the east and west, opening past a small, rocky island to the greater sea beyond. By careful design, the river mouth itself had been left clear, but Sass saw both the Fleet and civilian ports set back on either side. Although FSP regulations forbade the eating of meat, fishing was still done on many human-settled worlds, whose adherence to the code was less than perfect. Ostensibly the excuse was that the code should apply only to warmbloods and intelligent (not just sentient) aquatic coldbloods such as the Wefts or Ssli. Sass knew that many of the civilian locals ate fish, though it was never served openly in even the worst dockside joints. The fish, originally of Old Earth origin, had been stocked in Regg’s ocean centuries before.
Besides the formal Headquarters complex, there were the associated office buildings, computer centers, technology and research centers… each in a landscaped setting, for Regg was still, after all these years, uncrowded.
“Fleet people do retire here,” Abe said, “but they mostly homestead inland, upriver. Maybe someday we can do a river cruise during your holidays, see some of the estates. I’ve got friends up in the mountains, too.”
But the city was exciting enough for a girl reared in a small mining colony town. She realised how silly it had been for the Myriadians to call their one-story collection of prefabs The City. Here government buildings soared ten or twelve stories, offering stunning views of the surrounding country from their windswept observation platforms atop. Busy shops crowded with merchandise from all over the known worlds, streets bustling from dawn until long after dark. Festivals to celebrate seasons and historical figures, theater and music and art… Sass felt drunk on it, for weeks. This was the real world she had dreamed of, on Myriad: this colorful, crowded city connected by Fleet to everywhere else, ships coming and going every day. Although the spaceport was behind the nearest range of hills, protecting the city from the noise, Sass loved to watch the shuttles lifting above forested slopes into an open sky.
In the meantime, she’d had a chance to meet some of the other survivors of Myriad’s raid. Caris, now grim and wary, all the playfulness Sass remembered worn away by her captivity. She had found no one like Abe to give her help and hope, and in those few years aged into a bitter older woman.
“I just want a chance to work,” she said. “They say I can go to school.” Her voice was flat, barely above a whisper, the voice of a slave afraid of discovery. “You could come here,” said Sass, half-hoping Cans would agree. Much as she loved Abe, she missed having a close girlfriend, and her room was big enough for two. And Caris had known her all her life. They could talk about anything; they always had. Her own warmth could bring Caris back to girlhood, rekindle her hopes. But Caris pulled back, refusing Sass’s touch.
“No. I don’t - Sass, we were friends, and we were happy, and someday maybe I can stand to remember that. Right now I look at you and see - “ Her voice broke and she turned away.
“Caris, please!” Sass grabbed her shoulders, but Caris flinched and pulled back.
“It’s all over, Sass! I can’t - I can’t be anyone’s friend now. There’s nothing left… if I can just have a place to work in peace, alone…”
Sass was crying then, too. “Caris, you’re all I have - “
“You don’t have me. I’m not here.” And with that she ran out of the room. Sass learned later that she’d gone back into the hospital, for more treatment. Later, she went off-planet without even telling Sass, letting her find out from the hospital records that her friend had left forever. For this grief, Abe insisted that work was the only cure - and revenge, someday, against whatever interests lay behind the slave trade. Sass threw herself into her classwork… and by the time the Academy Open Examinations came around, she’d worked off the visible remnants of her grief. She passed those in the top five percent, to Abe’s delight. His scarred face creased into a grin as he took her to buy the required gear.
“I knew you could do it, Sass. I knew all along. You just remember what I told you, and in a few years I’ll be cheering when you graduate.”
But he would not walk her to the great arch that guarded the Academy entrance. He went off to work that morning, as he did every day (she never knew which of the semi-military bureaucracies had found a place for him; he never volunteered the information), leaving her to stare nervously into the mirror, twitching one errant strand of hair into place, until she had to walk fast or risk being late. She made her entrance appointment with time to spare, only to run into a marauding senior on her first trip through the Front Quad. She had carefully memorised the little booklet she’d been sent, and started to answer his challenge in the way it had instructed.
“Sir, Cadet Sassinak, reporting - “ Her voice faltered. The cadet officer she had saluted had crossed his eyes and put his tongue out; he had his hands fanned out by his ears. As quickly, his face returned to normal, and his hands to his sides, but the smile on that face was grim.
“Rockhead, didn’t anyone ever teach you how to report to a senior?” His voice attempted the cold arrogance of the pirate raiders, and came remarkably close. Sass realised she’d been tricked, fought down the responsive anger, and managed an equable tone in return. Abe hadn’t told her they called the entering cadets “rockhead.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“Well, then… get on with it.”
“Sir, Cadet Sassinak, reporting…” This time both eyes slewed outward, his mouth puckered as if he’d bitten a gari fruit, and he scratched vigorously at both armpits. But she wasn’t fooled twice, and managed to get through the formal procedure without changing tone or expression, ending with a crisp “… sir!”
“Sloppy, slow, and entirely too smug,” was the senior cadet’s comment. “You’re that petty officer’s orphan tagalong, aren’t you?”
Sass felt her ears burning, started to nod with clenched teeth, and then remembered that she had to answer aloud. “Sir, yes, sir.”
“Hmph. Sorry sort of recommendation, letting himself get captured and slaved all those years. Not much like Fleet - “ He stopped as Sass opened her mouth, and cocked his head. “Something to say, rockhead? Someone give you permission to speak?”
She didn’t wait. “Sir, Abe is worth four of you, sir”
“That’s not the point, rockhead. The point is that you - “ He tapped her shoulder. “You have to learn how to behave, and I don’t think anything in your background’s taught you how.” Sass stared at him, back in control, furious with herself for taking the bait. “On the other hand, you’re loyal. That’s something. Not much, but something.” He dismissed her, and she set off to find her assigned quarters, careful not to gawk around.