The Settlers (32 page)

It won't pass, Nathan says, weakly.
One of the stations will revolt.
They won't just take it.

Do you want to count on that?
Tasneem asks.
 

Anya says, Nathan --

Nathan explodes.
Why me?
Why not someone else?
 

Tasneem says, You're Matthew Bogleman.
Who better to lead the revolution?
 

David says, Will you?
Will you help us?

Anya looks at Nathan balefully.
 

I need time to think about it, Nathan says.
 

You don't have time, Tasneem says.
I'm deeply sorry about that, but this must begin now.
 

Anya says, Nathan.
I want to have a baby.
 

Nathan looks at Anya, then closes his eyes.
I don't want to do this, he says, finally.

What is right often has nothing to do with what you want, David offers.
 

Tasneem folds her arms.
Well?

What if you're both wrong?
Nathan asks.
What if Onyx never goes any farther than this station?

Then congratulations, Tasneem says.
You're both members of the most discriminated-against group of human beings in the fleet.
Nathan, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to.
We'll find someone else.
 

Either way, David adds, there will be a revolution.
 

You can lead it, Tasneem says, or you can be swept up by it.
And I have a feeling that as much as you're pushing against us, you aren't really the follower type.
I think you've got a bit of your grandfather in you.
 

Like him or not, David says, he refused to be marginalized.
 

Anya squeezes Nathan's hand.
Nathan, she says.
 

Nathan's shoulders slump.
Alright, he says.
 

Tasneem claps her hands and hops to her feet.
She picks up the wristband from the table, and David's image vanishes.
 

Good, she says.
Follow me.
There are people for you to meet.

Anya stands up.
Can we have a moment first?
Please?
 

Tasneem looks at the two of them.
They suddenly look very small.
The last thing that anybody would mistake Nathan for would be a revolutionary.
 

Of course, she says.
I'll be outside.
 

Well?
she thinks.

I think he's weak
, David says.

Do you think he can win?
 

I think it doesn't matter if he wins
, David says.
All you need is to turn public opinion.
If he fails, someone else will rise up.
You'll have planted a weed.

Weeds are good, Tasneem says.
 

The door opens, and Anya pushes Nathan forward.
 

Anya says, Go on, tell them.

Nathan looks almost sheepish.
It's just -- I --

He doesn't know how to start a revolution, she says.
You can teach him, right?
 

Nathan looks down at his feet.

Tasneem steps forward and puts her hands on Nathan's shoulders.
 

We can teach you everything, she says.
First thing's first -- you need a first mate.
Who do you trust?

Nathan doesn't hesitate.
Eldon, he says.
Eldon Heave.
He'll do anything for me.
 

He's loyal?
Tasneem asks.

Completely, Nathan says.
As am I, to him.
 

That's where we start, then, she says.
Let's go.

She called again, didn't she.

He stops fumbling in the closet in the dark.
I didn't know you were awake.
I was trying not to wake you.

But she did, didn't she.

Yeah.
Yeah, Zita, she did.
 

Zita says, Lights.
 

The bedroom illuminates.

Well, what does she need this time?
Zita asks.

I'm not sure, he answers.
 

Why does she call you?
The station has people for these things.
 

I don't know.
You know how the repair team is, he says.
They take a pretty long time.

What are you looking for?
 

He is shoulder-deep in the closet.

Zeke, she says.
 

Huh?
 

What are you looking for?
 

Zeke steps back and plants his hands on his waist.
Huh, he says.
I was looking for my shoes.

They're under the bed, Zita says.

Zeke kneels down.
They're under the bed, he says.

He fishes them out, then sits on the edge of the bed to put them on.
 

You don't want to know why they were under the bed?
Zita asks.

Zeke shrugs.
I guess I put them there.
I just forgot.

Zita scoots across the bed and whacks Zeke's head.
No, you idiot.
I put them there.
Don't you want to know why?

I guess, Zeke says, rubbing his head.
 

Because, Zita says.
 

Okay.
 

She snakes an arm around his chest.
 

Because, she says again.
 

Because why?

Because I don't want you to go to her, Zita says.

Zita, honey --

No, don't take that tone, she says.
You're not going to her.
You're staying here with me.

Zita slides her hand down his chest.

Zita, come on.
You know I have to go.

She sits back on her knees and pulls the blanket around her.
You do not, she says.

If I don't go, she'll just call again.
You know that.

That's no reason to go running off to her.

You say it like she's some slinky thing, Zeke says.
 

Zita doesn't answer.

She's not some slinky thing, Zeke says.
She's your sister.
 

Even more reason, Zita says, but she senses that she is losing the argument.

She needs help now that Arnan's gone, Zeke says.
 

Arnan, Zita says.
If you'd asked me a year ago, could Arnan be any worse than he already is?
I'd have said no.
But then he up and left her with those little ones.
 

You're making my argument for me, Zeke says.
 

Zeke, please don't go.
She'll be fine.
I'm sure it's just a broken switch or something.

If it is, she could freeze to death, Zeke says.
 

She won't freeze to death.
 

She might, he says.
We've got it okay here on Tycho.
I mean, it's no Argus, but Galileo is a shit station, and you know it.
It's like an old automobile somebody crashed in the woods and let the battery run out.
If she's got a climate problem and nobody fixes it, her compartment will have icicles by morning.
 

Well, then I'm coming with you, Zita says.
 

Zita, he says.

It's final, Zeke.
 

Zita, it's a long trip.
I'm just going to sleep in the orbital on the way there, and sleep on the way back, and then I'm going straight to work.
There's no point.

Zeke, she says weakly.

You have nothing to worry about, he says, taking her hands in his.

I don't trust --

I know, he says.
But there's nothing to worry about.
She's your sister.
And I'm your husband, for Pete's sake.

She's cunning, Zita says.

I'm impervious to cunning, he says.
 

Stay here?
 

He shakes his head.
Look, I don't want to go any more than you don't want me to.
But it's the right thing to do.

She slumps back on the bed.
Fine.

Oh, don't be like that, Zeet, he says.

She flaps a hand at him.
Go, already.
 

Zeet, come on.

Go!
Jesus, she says.
 

I don't like leaving when we're fighting.

We're not fighting.
You're just leaving.
 

He sighs.
I won't be long.

Oh, don't say that now.
You're going all the way to Galileo and then back, and then to work, or didn't you just say that?
 

I did, he admits.

So you'll be long.
But whatever.
Go, already.

He finishes putting his shoes on and stands up, tall and lean in the dim light.

I love you, he says.

Fine, she says.
Get out.
 

Poppy sits on the floor outside her compartment, arms resting on the rail, feet swinging over the edge.
Six levels up, and her only view is more compartments.
If she looks upward, she can only see the sloping roof high above, curving away in the distance.
Compartments everywhere.
 

Galileo feels like a slum to her.
That's what residents on the other stations called it, anyway.
The slum.
It isn't particularly grimy, and the residents care for it as best they could, but they're crammed together like shipping containers on a hillside, and most of the station is a long way from anything that constituted a view of the stars.
 

Poppy describes it sometimes as life inside an old radio.
 

And that's sort of how Galileo looks.
Like the guts of a very large machine, converted into living spaces.

There's an ever-present white noise here, a low, persistent grinding sound, as if the entire station is a single gear in a larger engine.
The surroundings are colorless, like an assembled but unpainted model.

When Zeke arrives, Poppy is sipping synthetic juice from a cup.
 

Hi, Poppy, he says.

Zeke, she answers.

He stands on the balcony behind her, waiting.

Sit down, she says, patting the floor.

He does.

Not much of a view, is it, she says.

I guess not, he says.
 

He folds his arms on the rail and lays his head down.
 

Tired?
she asks him.
 

His eyes are closed, but he nods.
Very.
 

I'm sorry, she says.
It's so much of a trip here.
 

It's alright, he replies.
 

You should go inside and lie down.
Rest up a little.

Zita's waiting for me, he says.
I should get to it.

Poppy scoots a little closer.
Get to what?

Zeke opens his eyes.
Whatever you called me over for, I guess.

Oh, Zeke, she says.
You didn't have to come tonight.
It wasn't anything urgent.

It didn't sound like it was nothing urgent, he says.

I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to give you that impression.
It could've waited.

Zeke closes his eyes, then pushes away from the rail and gets to his feet.
 

Zita's going to kill me, he says.

Well, then don't tell her, Poppy says.
Here, come inside.
You can lie down awhile.
Then you can catch the transport back to Tycho.
She doesn't have to know you didn't fix anything.
 

Zeke scrunches his face up.

You're exhausted, Zeke.
I can see.

He exhales slowly.
What do I tell her I fixed?

Poppy smiles and takes his hand.

Close your eyes, Poppy whispers.

Zeke is stretched out on the sofa.
He's too tall for it.
His feet are propped up on one end, and his neck is cramped.
He scoots around uncomfortably.

What is it?
Poppy asks.

I think your couch is too small for me, he says.
 

Close your eyes.

I don't know, Poppy.
Maybe I should --

Shhh, Poppy says.
Let me show you something my mom used to do.

Zeke lies long and still on Poppy's bed.
There are toys on the floor around the room.
He tripped on one when Poppy pushed him through the doorway.