rules. They knew what was required to keep the station running. They knew Pendt was pregnant, and that she was sustaining the pregnancy. None of them seemed to hold it against her, now that she was standing in front of them. She was doing the job she had been brought on board to do, but it was time to tell them how much she was committed to serving the station.
“Many of you were at my handfasting a few weeks ago,” she said, an unexpected catch in her voice. “You know that I promised Ned to help him and to make sure his line continued. You know that I’ve been trying my best to learn how to run Brannick Station.”
They were nodding, now, and murmuring to one another. Yes, they had seen her working in hydroponics. Yes, they knew what she was trying to do in operations so that Fisher could have a break sometimes.
“We didn’t plan to tell you, but the day that Ned and I were handfasted, we had a second ceremony. A marriage.”
Gasps of surprise rushed through the crowd, echoing Ned’s protests from that day so few weeks ago. Marriage was beyond serious. It meant Pendt was theirs. It meant Fisher could order her to do whatever he liked, even if she knew he never would. It meant that, for Pendt, there was nothing beyond Brannick Station anymore.
“I’m telling you now, because I want you to know how committed I am to you,” Pendt said. Her voice rang out above the colonnade. “I was born a Harland, and raised a Harland, but I became a Brannick. I did it a little bit for me, I won’t deceive you. I wanted a home that I could never be taken away from. But I knew that I was also agreeing to a covenant with you, Ned’s people, not just with him.”
They pressed forward, hands reaching out to touch her. Dulcie put a hand on her shoulder to keep her steady. Fisher looked a bit alarmed but covered it well. He came to stand beside her.
“We know that it is a time to mourn,” Pendt said. “We know that Brannick Station has mourned more than its fair share in recent years. We know that you need time to grieve and time to understand how the changes will affect you.
“But we want you to be sure.” She looked down, and then back at the crowd. “I want you to be sure: I will do my best for you, always. This is my home, and I can’t begin to explain to you how important that is to me. I am yours for as long as you need me, Brannick Station.”
Fisher took her hand as the crowd threatened to overwhelm them. No one was angry, they just wanted to be close to her. She thought they would try to touch her belly, where the next Brannick hibernated, but they didn’t. They pressed their hands against her shoulders or the top of her head and called her precious and good. Many of them were crying, and Pendt was powerless to stop her own tears. A sure sign she was a Brannick, she thought. No more taking it on the chin. Brannicks fought back.
It took nearly an hour to extricate themselves from the crowd. Fisher never relinquished her hand the entire time. It was the most he had touched her since the night they learned of Ned’s death. Fate was especially cruel to tie those two moments together, Pendt thought. She didn’t know if Fisher was ever going to let her replace that memory with something else. She didn’t know if she wanted to. It was so strange, to think about kissing one Brannick boy while news of the other’s death streaked its way across the stars to where they sat.
That sort of thinking could drive a person spare, Pendt realized. She knew guilt ate at Fisher, and he wasn’t ready to pull himself out of it. Pendt was more rational than he was, at least when it came to this. She refused to let herself be drawn into the pointless sea of what-ifs. It wasn’t very much fun. She wanted, more than anything, to lose herself to feeling. But Fisher needed her. Brannick Station needed her. And she had promised.
Pendt led Fisher back up to their apartment and settled him on the sofa in the lounge. She knew he’d been drinking stimulants since the news came, trying to stay awake to make arrangements and do