The Lost Ship of the Tucker Rebellion - Marie Sexton Page 0,77
was music to Denver’s ears, because it meant his brother would be alive in the morning. “Wake me up if you need anything.”
“I will.”
He wouldn’t, though. Denver knew that. He gripped his brother’s hand and held on tight.
He was halfway to dreamland before Laramie spoke again. “Denver?”
“Yeah?”
“I know.”
“I kind of like being blissed-out.”
He felt Laramie’s laugh more than he heard it.
“Strangely enough, I know exactly what you mean.”
Dusty’s “parallel course” to Uranus was unfortunately in the exact opposite direction of their final destination. Thus, Denver’s first step before changing course was to wait for Dusty’s group to close the distance between them, which shaved two hours off OPAL’s estimation of fourteen hours once they reached the Legacy.
When the time finally came, every person aboard the Jiminy gathered in the cockpit to see the escapist ships come into view. Denver had to resist the urge to fidget. It made him nervous to contemplate over four hundred people relying on him to know how to fly the Legacy, much less get a whole new life started for all of them on a planet that may or may not exist.
“Laissez-faire bastard,” Denver muttered, and Laramie started to snicker.
“Seriously,” Spence said, “how do you—”
“Look.” Gru was the first to see it, pointing a long, spindly finger into the black of the screen. OPAL relayed the distance in her smooth, detached voice, informing them of the vanishing kilometers between them and the other colonists, but it was different to see them in person. Eight ships total, as different as the stars.
Marit squinted disbelievingly. “Is that a Quadrant comber? That thing must be ancient. Look, it’s tethered. They couldn’t even move it this far under its own impulse.”
Ginn crossed her arms. “Crazy.”
“Or desperate,” Gru said. He turned and smiled at her, and Ginn took a wary step back. “It’s hard to know the difference when you’re in the middle of it yourself, isn’t it?”
Ginn’s only response was to turn on her heel and leave. Nobody bothered stopping her.
Their communicator beeped, and Denver activated it. “Hey there, Dusty.”
“Hello, sir.” She smiled. “Laramie, Marit. Nice to see you all. Thanks for waiting for us.”
“Our pleasure. Welcome to the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s nice. Scenic. I really like what you’ve done with all the black.”
Denver suppressed a grin. “Any issues we should know about with regards to your ships? I see you’ve got one tethered.”
Dusty sighed. “Two, actually. There’s a reason people like us were able to afford ships as big as this—they’re in pretty poor repair. We pooled our resources into the biggest ones to keep their engines going, and we can assist with impulse on the others, but we’re not going to break any speed barriers.”
“Not a problem. OPAL tells me we’ll still have about twelve hours, once we reach the Legacy.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
A little unexpectedly, Gru thrust his head forward to peer at the viewfinder between Denver and Laramie’s heads. “What are your areas of expertise?”
Dusty seemed a little taken aback, but to her credit, she went with it. “What are you referring to specifically?”
“You’re escapists, aren’t you? The disenfranchised, overenchanted, most of whom wouldn’t know a true day’s labor—the old labor, the ancient labor—if it bit them. Undereducated and fanciful, most of you are the type to envision some sort of bucolic, communal paradise rather than the bitter reality of colony-making, but some among you—some—have at times learned genuine skills. I wish to know what they are.”
Dusty squared her shoulders. “We have programmers—”
“Bah! Next to useless.”
“—cooks—”
“People accustomed to cooking from powders and protein dusts, even more useless.”
“—several weavers—”
“Oh?” Gru tilted his head. “Animal, vegetable, or synthetic fiber?”
“All of the above. One of our families raised sheep on Mars before their herd was confiscated. They can also make cheese.”
“A pearl amongst your swine. What else?”
“Chemists, several biologists with varying areas of expertise, two doctors and a midwife, an engineer and numerous mechanics and professional educators.”
“Well.” Gru shrugged. “Nearly empty-handed, but not as overwhelmed with useless supplicants as you could be.” He turned to Denver. “I’ll be with my fungi.”
Treesa grabbed his hand and tugged. “Is it time to water Matilda yet?”
“No, haven’t you checked the schedule? It doesn’t do to overwater. Go check and tell me how long we have until Matilda needs