Excelsior (30 page)

“Has your contact found anything yet?”

Caty got up from the table. “Not yet.” She put her mug in the sink.

David paused for a spoonful of cereal. “Maybe there is nothing to find,” he said.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said.

When she was done, he was waiting for her at the front door with a puppy dog look in his eyes.

“I thought you would have left already,” she said as she put on her shoes.

“And leave you to walk to the bus alone?” He shook his head. “Something could happen to you.”

As soon as she was done putting on her shoes, he lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I’m sorry, Caty.”

“For what?”

“For not being more understanding. I miss my wife, too.”

Caty shook her head. “I know, but this is different. Alexander really could be alive. He—”

“I know. Top secret mission. I get it. You have hope, and I don’t.” His face fell dramatically and the light left his eyes. “Maybe that’s why I am not more sensitive. Maybe I am jealous.”

Caty felt a pang of guilt and she rubbed his arm. “I’m sorry, too.”

They stood there for a long moment, whole sentences hanging in the air unspoken between them. “We’re going to be late for work,” she eventually said.

He nodded, and they went out the door together. David walked her to her bus to make sure she got on safely. Everyone in the North was supposed to be already well-adjusted and non-violent thanks to their endocrine implants, but crime was still rising steadily. There was a standing nationwide order for all natural-borns with behavioral implants to go get them adjusted, but Caty had a feeling people were reluctant to dial back their primal instincts when they couldn’t be sure that their neighbors were doing the same.

“See you tonight,” David said, waving to her as she climbed on her bus.

Caty nodded and waved back. “See you.”

Three hours later she was busy dusting an explicit Kama Sutra-inspired Koons sculpture in the Waltons’ master suite when her comm band rang with an incoming call.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Caty? It’s Muros.”

“Tatiana?” Catalina’s heart became a drumbeat in her chest. “You heard something?” There was a notable pause on the other end. “Taty? Are you there?”

“I’m here. Your husband’s ship was the Lincoln, right?”

“Yes, why?” Thud-thud. Thud-thud…

“Maybe you’d like to meet with me for lunch today?”

“I’m working.”

“I could come to you.”

“If you know something, just tell me. I’ve waited long enough. I need to know, Taty. Is he okay?”

Catalina heard the other woman sigh. “The Lincoln is listed as a confirmed casualty in our records. I don’t know why your husband’s status is still MIA, but the crew went down with the ship. They didn’t have a chance to deploy lifeboats or escape pods.”

“That’s impossible! They would have updated Alexander’s status.”

“Maybe, but everything is a mess right now, so a lot of things can slip through the cracks. Checking personnel records is a low priority. I’m really sorry, Caty. If there’s anything I can do, you just let me know, okay?”

Catalina’s eyes blurred with tears. “No, thank you. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Caty… Take care.”

Catalina ended the comm call on her end and walked over to sit at the foot of the Waltons’ bed. She sat staring at her hands as her tears rained into them, slipping between her fingers.

“Catalina? Are you all right?”

Caty looked up to see Mrs. Walton standing in the doorway, an uncomfortable look on her face. “I’m fine,” Caty said.

Mrs. Walton frowned and stared at her pointedly. “Clearly you’re not fine. Otherwise you would be doing your job rather than wrinkling a thousand sol bedspread with your posterior.”

Caty stood up quickly and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry… I just heard news about my husband.”

“Captain Alexander?”

“He’s…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. So many months of holding onto hope and for what? She had written literally hundreds of letters to him. Letters he was never going to read.

Mrs. Walton’s disapproving frown gave way to another look of discomfort. “Oh… I see. You can take a personal day if you like, Caty. I’m sure you can catch up on all the housework tomorrow.”

Catalina wiped her tears again and managed a broken smile. “Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Walton.”

The subsequent hours both dragged and raced, passing in a dimension where time had been replaced by a terrifying void. The bus ride was shorter than usual—no traffic at this time of day. Caty walked alone from the bus stop to her home, scarcely noticing the hungry, desperate faces peering at her from curtain-less windows and barren doorsteps as she passed by.

She went straight to bed and slept a haunted sleep until she woke up with a knock at her door.

“Caty?” It was David. The door cracked open. “Are you asleep?”

She didn’t reply, hoping he would leave.

“You weren’t at the bus stop. Did something happen?”

“No. Nothing. I’m fine.”

The light from the open door increased. More footsteps. “Obvio que no estas bien, mi chiquita.”

“Go away!” she sobbed.

The bed sank with his weight, and she buried her face in the pillows. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. You lost your job?”

She shook her head.

“Then what?”

Suddenly she was furious with him. What right did he have to intrude on her like this? What was he even doing sharing a house with her? He should just go! Catalina burst from the covers, her eyes flashing, her heart pounding. “He’s dead. Are you happy now? Alexander is dead!”

David’s lips parted and his brown eyes grew wide. It took him a moment to recover from her outburst. “How do you know?”

Caty looked away. Hot tears welled in her eyes once more. “They called.”

David said nothing, seemingly frozen in place.

A tear fell from Caty’s eye lashes and ran down her cheek. David snapped out of it and pulled her into a strong embrace. She sobbed anew while he whispered in her ear, telling her everything was going to be okay.

He was wrong. Alexander wasn’t coming back to save her. The world was never going to go back to the way it had been before. Nothing was going to be okay ever again. She soaked David’s shirt with her tears, and he rocked her back and forth, stroking her head for what seemed like hours.

Eventually the cold fury of grief gave way to the warmth of that embrace, and Caty began to notice David’s hands running lightly beneath her shirt, up and down her back, making her skin tingle.

A part of her that had been denied for more than two years came roaring to life, making her blood sing in her veins. Pent-up grief turned to red hot desire, and everything else ceased to matter. Why hold back any longer? The words till death do us part came to mind, and she suddenly turned her head from David’s shirt to face him.

She pulled his lips down to hers and drank him in. He smelled like sweat and tasted like beer, but somehow that was better than perfume and mint. He was real. He was alive.

With every desperate touch and gasping kiss, she realized that this was something they’d both wanted for a long time. Catalina surrendered to the moment, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt while he ripped her blouse open and stripped her naked. He spent a moment admiring her before she pulled him down on top of her.

A few minutes later she lay gasping on the bed beside him. The heat of the moment was gone, leaving her cold and shivering. Suddenly she felt smothered under an impossible weight of grief and… guilt. She bit her lower lip and rocked her head from side to side on her pillow. What have I done?

David lay on his side, staring at her, his hands running lightly over her naked chest. Her skin glistened with sweat in the dim light pouring in from the hallway. David’s eyes glinted at her, diamond pinpricks of light adrift in a sea of darkness.

“He would want you to be happy, Caty.”

Shock coursed through her. Was she that easy to read?

“I know, because that is what I would want, if I was him.”

Catalina nodded. Alexander would have wanted her to be happy, but this still felt wrong. It felt like she’d betrayed him. She hadn’t even waited a day between hearing that he was dead and moving on with another man! Ice crept inside her soul, making her shiver. What kind of wife jumped into bed with another man as soon as she heard that her husband was dead? A painful lump rose in Caty’s throat, and David began showering her with kisses. David stroked her cheek, wiping away a fresh tear.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here, and I’m not going to leave you. Not even death can take me, mi chiquita. It already tried. I will make you whole again.”

Caty nodded once more even though she knew those were all lies. It wasn’t okay; she wasn’t safe; and David could try all he wanted, but he would never be able to fill the hole that Alexander had left in her heart.

“I think… I need to be alone,” she said, not looking at him.

David’s expression darkened. “Alone? Despues de lo que hicimos?”

“I’m sorry. I just… it’s been a long day.”

He looked angry, ready to object, but all he said was “Entiendo,” and then he rolled out of bed and walked away, not even stopping to put on his clothes.

Caty watched him leave, thinking that he really didn’t understand. He’d already grieved for his wife. He’d given up hope a long time ago. He didn’t have hundreds of unread letters written to a ghost. She hugged a pillow to her heart, and half-prayed, half-whispered her apologies to Alexander.

She wasn’t sure if some part of him still lived on and was listening, but it made her feel better. She vowed never to do it again. David would have to understand. She couldn’t be with him. Maybe she would move out. The Waltons might be willing to take her as a live-in. It would be nice not to have to spend four hours on a bus every day.

Thinking about that made her feel better. I’m sorry, Alex, she whispered to her pillow for the hundredth time. I’m so sorry…

 

Chapter 27

11th Day On Wonderland - June 2nd, 2790

(Wonderland’s Frame of Reference)

Alexander stood in his hab module, staring out a transparent square in the side of the dome. Rain streaked down, beading on his window and roaring against the hab canvas. Outside, floodlights lit up the perimeter of the compound, illuminating driving swaths of rain. As Alexander watched, the night’s sky flashed with a dazzling fork of lighting that left a fading purple bruise on the clouds. A split second later there came a deafening bang! followed by a throaty roar from the alien sky.

Outside, the wind whistled and intermittently punched the hab canvas, making the normally smooth white dome ripple and undulate like a living thing. Alexander hoped it would hold.

There was something particularly frightening about weathering a storm on an alien world, even more so considering they were weathering it in a bunch of glorified tents.

Alexander’s comm band beeped at him, and he answered, “Captain speaking.”

“Sir, it’s Korbin. You asked me to check in with our department heads for an update. I’ve finished compiling a summary of their findings so far. Would you like me to send it to your inbox or deliver the report in person?”

Another fork of lighting bruised the sky, followed by a noisy clap of thunder. “In person. I don’t know about you, but I could use the company.”

“I’ll be right there,” Korbin replied.

“See you.” Alexander signed off, and a gust of wind hit the window in front of his face. Cold canvas touched the tip of his nose, making him flinch.

Alexander went to wait for Korbin in his sitting room. The electro-magnetically sealed flap at the entrance of his hab opened a moment later, and she walked in.

“Captain,” she said, saluting him.

“Take a seat, Commander.”

She sat down opposite him on an inflatable couch that matched the inflatable armchair where he sat. Thunder rumbled, and Korbin’s eyes drifted to the ceiling as it billowed above their heads.