Heart of the Nebula (41 page)

The soft buzzing of the door chime made his
heart skip a beat. Was it true? If it was Sara…

“
Come in,” he called
out.

The door hissed open, and a tall, thin
brunette stepped in. She smiled warmly at him, but she was not
Sara. Definitely not.

“
Commander
McCoy?”

He sat up slowly and nodded, leaning heavily
on his knees. “That’s me.”

“
Deirdre Johansen,” the
girl said, extending her hand. Though she looked about his age, her
vibrant smile made him wonder if she were a year or two younger.
James took her hand, and she shook his with obvious
enthusiasm.

“
I don’t know if you
remember,” she said, “but I was in the cryo chamber when you were
revived. I’ve, ah, read all about you, even written—I’m the ship’s
chief historian, you see. It’s kind of my job.”

She gave a nervous laugh that made James
nod, just to reassure her. Though she spoke rather quickly, she
seemed friendly enough—very friendly, in fact. Her eyes were deep
green, her dark brown hair long and straight, and she had a nervous
habit of twirling strands of hair behind her ear with her finger.
Though she was a bright and attractive young woman, however, she
was not Sara.

“
Anyhow,” she continued,
her expression suddenly serious, “I talked with the techs who were
there when Sara, well… they told me they did their best, but there
was nothing that could have been done. A small percentage of people
never wake up from cryo—at least she didn’t feel any
pain.”

James nodded mutely. He didn’t feel like
saying anything.

“
Do you want me to leave,
Commander? If you need more time…”

Her voice trailed off, but he shrugged and
shook his head. She stood awkwardly for a few moments before
quietly taking a chair.

“
If it’s not too hard, may
I ask who she was?”

“
Don’t you know?” said
James, glancing over at her. “I thought you were the ship’s
historian.”

“
I know that she was the
last patrician’s daughter, but I don’t know what she was to
you
.”

He sighed heavily and looked back down at
the floor. “She was the girl I never thought I’d get, and when I
did, it seemed too good to be real.”

“
You were lovers,
then?”

“
Yes.”

Deirdre nodded. “That’s hard. I’m sorry for
your loss.”

She touched James’s arm as if to reassure
him, then awkwardly drew it back. For a few moments, neither of
them said anything. James continued to stare at the white tile
floor.

“
There’s something else,”
she said, reaching into her skirt pocket. “We recovered this note
from the private storage compartment beneath her cyrotank. It’s
addressed to you.”

She leaned forward and handed him a
nondescript synthpaper envelope. Sure enough, his name was written
on the back in Sara’s handwriting.

The contingency letter.

His hands trembled as he held it in his
hands. Sara’s last words to him—the ones she had felt so strongly
about writing. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart
started to race. He tentatively reached with his finger to open it,
but stopped short.

“
In any case,” said
Deirdre, rising to her feet, “I’d better be going. Is it all right
if I visit you again?”

“
Sure,” James muttered. He
quickly stuffed the envelope into the chest pocket of his
jumpsuit.

“
Welcome
back
,
Commander
McCoy. It’s good to have you with us again.”

She hesitated by the doorway as if she
wanted to say more, but left without another word. As the door
hissed shut, James bit his lip and tried very hard not to feel
utterly alone.

* * * * *

“
Ah, Miss Johansen. Please,
come in.”

Deirdre stepped into Captain Carlson’s
office and walked up to his desk. He stood and reached over a stack
of papers to shake her hand, then motioned for her to fold down a
chair.

“
I trust you were able to
gather the background information I asked for,” he said as she took
her seat. “The commander seems to be more, shall we say, prone to
mood swings than we expected.”

“
With all due respect, sir,
I don’t think his reaction was all that unusual.”

“
Still, we almost had to
call on security to restrain him. Violence is hardly a normal part
of the grieving process.”

Deirdre rolled her eyes. “With the way
Maggie tries to strong-arm everyone, can you blame him? He’s not a
threat, Carlson—trust me.”

“
Is that your professional
assessment, Deirdre?”

“
Yes,” she said, hesitating
only a moment. “I mean, I’m not a therapist or anything, but
everything he’s said and done so far fits perfectly with what I’ve
read.”

Carlson leaned forward with his elbows on
his desk and rested his chin on his hands. He eyed Deirdre in a way
that told her he had some plans, and that she was about to become a
part of them. She shifted nervously in her seat.

“
Very well, Deirdre. I’ll
trust your judgment in this matter. In fact, I have a special
assignment for you.”

Uh-oh.

“
Yes, Captain?”

Carlson stood up and folded
his chair into the wall, giving him room to pace. “As chief
historian of the
Chiran Spirit,
you’re uniquely suited to serve as a liaison
between the founding generation and our own. For that reason, I
find it particularly gratifying to see that you and the commander
have hit it off so well.”

Deirdre blushed. “Well, I wouldn’t quite put
it that way…”

“
There are many adjustments
that Commander McCoy will have to make in the coming days,” Carlson
continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I anticipate that it will be
quite difficult for him, especially considering his loss. Everyone
on this ship is a stranger to him, and we cannot reanimate any of
his compatriots until we’ve arrived at Chira and begun the
settlement process.”

“
I understand,” said
Deirdre. “He’s got to feel like a man stranded outside of his time.
But what’s the assignment you have for me?”

“
Simply to serve as a guide
for him until he’s made the transition.”

“
That’s it?”

Carlson smiled. “Of course, since this will
be a full-time assignment, I’ve arranged for the housing committee
to change your unit assignment to level sixty-two. You can make the
move as soon as you’re ready.”

“
Level sixty-two?” Deirdre
asked, frowning. “Isn’t that—”

“
Couples housing? Indeed.
We couldn’t have McCoy sharing a unit with you in any of the single
female units, couldn’t we?”

Hot blood rushed to her cheeks as her inner
fan-girl just about died. Her eyes widened, and she clasped her
hands to her mouth in shock.

“
But—but the couples units
only have one bed! Am I, ah, supposed to sleep with
him?”

“
Of course not, Deirdre.
We’ll assign you a hammock.”

But I haven’t slept in a
hammock for over ten years,
Deirdre wanted
to say. Hammocks were for children. Did they even make one large
enough for her?

“
You do know how this is
going to look, don’t you? Everyone on the ship is going to think
I’m sleeping with him, even if I’m not.”

“
I’m afraid that’s
unavoidable,” said Carlson. “McCoy needs someone who can be there
for him morning, swing, and alter—not just anyone, mind you, but
someone close enough to understand his needs better than he does. I
saw how you took to him in the cryo chamber, Deirdre, and I’m
confident that you are the right person for the job.”

Deirdre swallowed hard. “Really?”

“
It won’t be easy, of
course,” Carlson continued. “But even if it means giving up your
research for a while, I want you to do all you can to help him
adjust. If he doesn’t become acclimated before we arrive, the
burdens of leadership may be too much for him.”

Are you kidding?
Deirdre thought.
Spending
every waking moment with James is
exactly
what I
need
for my research!
So what if everyone on the ship thought that she
was sleeping with him? To hell with what they thought!

“
I’ll be fine, sir,” she
said out loud. “I’ll do my best to meet your
expectations.”

“
I’m sure you’ll exceed
them,” said Carlson, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Deirdre barely heard him, though. Her mind
was already racing with all the opportunities that this assignment
had opened up to her.

* * * * *

The sound of the door chime woke James from
a dreamless nap. He opened his eyes and rose wearily to his feet,
his body still sore.

“
Come in.”

The door hissed open, and the same girl from
before walked in. Her outfit gave her a strikingly feminine
appearance.

“
Hello again!” she said
brightly. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“
No,” James lied. “Deirdre,
is it?”

“
That’s right. And you’re
James McCoy, of course—can I call you James?”

He shrugged, eliciting a girlish smile. For
a moment, he wondered if she was about to ask him for an autograph
or something.

“
Well, James, I’ve been
assigned as your guide to the ship. I’m sure a lot has changed
since you were last here with us, so I’m here to show you around
and help you adjust—if that’s all right, of course.”

“
It’s fine,” he said,
adjusting his jumpsuit. The fabric was thin and slightly itchy, but
otherwise fit him well. As he hooked his thumbs around his belt,
the upper half went tight enough that he could feel Sara’s
contingency letter against his chest.

“
Here,” said Deirdre. “Let
me give you the tour.”

She took his arm in hers and led him through
the door. It seemed a little forward of her, until he realized that
everyone he’d met on the ship so far seemed to have no concept of
personal space. Rooms were smaller than he was used to, and the
doctor had stood so close to him that it had made him
uncomfortable.

“
Have you had a chance to
look around the ship much?” she asked.

“
Not really,” said James,
even though it wasn’t exactly true. He’d recovered fairly quickly
from the cryothaw, but he hadn’t really been in the right spirits
to leave his room. Besides, with the narrow, warren-like corridors,
doctors and nurses bustling about everywhere, and the ever-present
smell of disinfectant, his room had seemed like a safer place to
stay.

“
Well, you’ll definitely
have plenty of time to explore,” said Deirdre. “We just arrived on
the outskirts of the Chira system, but Chira V is still three
standard weeks away.”

“
Three weeks? Why did you
wake me so early?”

“
I’m not sure,” said
Deirdre. “It was Carlson’s decision, not mine—Jeppe Carlson, the
ship’s captain. He’s in charge of piloting, astrogation, inter-ship
relations, and pretty much everything that falls outside the
General Assembly.”

So our democratic
traditions have been preserved,
James
noted. He wondered what Lars would think to see this, then realized
that Lars was gone.

As they walked down the corridor, he had to
turn sideways every now and again to let a nurse or physician
through. Several of the medical staff smiled as they passed, but
James was in no mood to stop and chat.

“
The main office is through
here,” said Deirdre, pointing to the bulkhead at the end of the
curved hallway. The door was wide and plated with solid durasteel,
almost like an airlock. She palmed the access panel, and the door
opened to reveal a quaint office with a row of cubicles against the
outer wall. On the right, a ladder ran up through a wide manhole in
the floor and extended up through a similar hole in the
ceiling.

“
You’ll have to sign out at
the front desk,” said Deirdre, motioning to the receptionist. James
hardly noticed her, though—he was too busy staring at the
ladder.

It was actually three ladders arranged in a
triangle, the rungs sharing three vertical poles. The hole in the
floor through which the ladder passed was about six feet in
diameter, with a lip made of a foamy material. As James stared, a
man in a gray jumpsuit with a utility belt full of tools shimmied
down the far side of the ladder, moving with a speed born of
practiced experience. “G’day,” he said, nodding as he passed. James
peered over the edge and immediately jumped back—the shaft extended
more than five levels down.

“
Commander McCoy,” said the
receptionist, her cheerful, businesslike voice betraying a hint of
sternness.

“
Sorry,” said James. “Where
were we?”

The receptionist, a smiling middle-aged
woman with short hair, handed him a plastic pad with a synthpaper
printout clipped on and a scanner attached to the side.

“
This is your release
agreement,” said Deirdre. “Just put your thumbprint on the scanner,
and she’ll take care of the rest.”

James skimmed the release agreement, but his
mind became jumbled in legalese after barely two paragraphs. He
examined the scanner and found a digital pad for taking
fingerprints on the back of it. When he was done, he handed it back
to the receptionist, who used the laser to read the bar-code at the
top of the printout.