Thirty minutes later, just as she was closing the center cabinet, Rylando and Moyo strode into the storeroom.
He looked around with a grin. “This is ace. You’ve made impressive progress.” Crossing to the now-accessible skimmer, he opened it and put the crate he carried inside. “Sorry I took so long. I had to clear the crap in front of the food-storage unit, and Hatya needed time with Moyo. The uncertainty about GSAR is stressing her, so when even a Jumper admits she needs comfort...” He shrugged apologetically.
“It’s stressing everyone out.” Taz made a hissing noise. “Except Bhayrip, because he refuses to believe the CPS would disband us.”
Rylando shook his head in disgust. “He thinks because Concordance Foundation law requires the CPS to provide search and rescue, GSAR is untouchable.”
“He said that?” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I shouldn’t mention the Minder Corps base consolidation, or the rumor that their employees are disappearing every day? Or anything about Ayorinn’s Legacy?”
“Not unless you enjoy twenty-minute tirades.” He fished in his thigh pocket and brought out a water pouch. “Rumors are scurrilous attempts to destabilize the government. And there’s no such thing as a legendary forecast that will free all minders and change the course of human civilization to save it. According to Bhayrip, Ayorinn wasn’t a genius forecaster, he was a genius con artist, and the CPS leaders fell for it.”
“Oh, right, because that explains forty years of mysteriously published poetic quatrains. And resurging memes strong enough to cause riots. And the fact that the CPS has failed at every attempt to stamp them out.”
Even in her protected position as a rescuer, Taz and the others had faced naked hate for using mental talents to save lives. Sometimes, it felt like Ayorinn’s legendary forecast was the only thing that gave minders hope of better days ahead.
“Unrelated and exaggerated, per the captain.” He pointed to the cabinets she’d just closed. “Did any of the bowls survive?” He leaned down to pet Shen’s head. “She’s thirsty.”
“Oh, yes, one did. Sorry I didn’t think of it.” She turned quickly back to the cabinet to hide her embarrassment. She’d hoped the dog liked her company and was accepting her as a teammate. Instead, she’d just wanted water. Clearly, the sooner Taz transferred out of the unit, the better, even if it tacked on yet another year to her CPS contract.
She pulled out the bowl and crossed with it to where Rylando stood. “Before I forget, I think Red Team took our last set of flying-camera eyes when they took our comms. You might want to inventory our gear to see what else they ‘requisitioned.’ I’m going to ground for a nap.”
“Wait,” said Rylando. “Hatya said not to relieve her until fourteen hundred. She’s still on light duty, so she said she may as well take advantage of it. Her hip is acting up.”
Only Jumper Command would regard high-stress, dangerous search-and-rescue missions as “light duty.” According to Hatya, her new cybernetic leg and hip hadn’t worked right from the start, which was why GSAR had lucked into the temporary assignment of such an experienced and skilled pilot.
“Good for her.” Taz was afraid it was something worse than slow healing. The whole galaxy had heard rumors of the pernicious waster’s disease that afflicted too many retired Jumpers, but it wasn’t something active-duty Jumpers ever talked about. “That’ll give me time to finish recalibrating the animal autodoc. The other teams might need it if their dogs get hurt.”
As he crouched down to place the bowl on the floor, he looked up at her. “After all the repairs you’ve done for GSAR, you could get a job on any planet as a tech once you term out of your contract.”
Taz laughed. “Only if they don’t care that I only follow the official repair instructions as a last resort.”
Plans for a life after the military topped the list of favorite discussion topics in GSAR. Hardly anyone in the organization had a surviving relationship with partners or family, or even outside friends. A lot of retirement dreams centered around changing that.
She hooked her thumbs in her belt. “I love the rescue mission, but most planetary response teams rely on volunteers. Sadly, grateful thank-yous from the rescued don’t pay the rent.” She pointed a thumb toward the ship-loader assist frame in the corner. “I’d have a better chance as a construction-equipment operator. Some companies like hiring telekinetics. What about you?”
His head dropped as he poured water in the bowl. “Haven’t given it much thought, really. I’ll see what presents itself when my contract terms out in two years.”
Taz knew he was shading the truth, but she couldn’t blame him for wanting to keep secrets. She had plenty of her own.
Not the least of which was that she was eligible for self-initiated transfer in six more days, which was coincidentally her thirty-ninth birthday, per standard Galactic Date and Time. If she stayed, he’d probably come to trust her more, but he’d break her heart. He’d be happier with another animal-affinity minder, not a people-loving tech-tinkerer with a historic record of epically bad relationships.
She planned to make the transfer a birthday present to herself, since no one else cared enough to celebrate it. Her heart wouldn’t survive being crushed again.
He stood and rolled up the empty pouch. “Hatya thinks the CPS might invoke the ‘extraordinary need’ clause for Minder Corps staff to keep them active past their contract dates.” Turning, he tossed the pouch toward the recycling crate, but it overshot and landed on the floor. “Maybe they’ll do that to us, too.”
Since she was closer, she scooped up the pouch and dropped it in. “Ayorinn’s Legacy always warps the CPS’s judgment, but I can’t believe they’d be that stupid.” She shook her head. “Even a hydroponic moss plant would realize it'll cause even more Minder Corps staff to leave.”
Shen, having made a splashy mess on the floor with her enthusiastic lapping, nudged Rylando’s thigh with her wet muzzle. He absently caressed her ear. “Yeah, probably. How do you weigh duty versus family?”
“I’m glad I don’t have to make that choice.” She pointed to the totally innocent-looking cats, who were now sprawled across the flat top of the skimmer, grooming each other. “Don’t let them kill any more cleaning bots. The station’s facility manager is starting to notice theirs are going missing.”
She’d made it halfway to her quarters when the alert tones sounded in her earwire and echoed throughout the GSAR section. Hatya’s voice followed.
“Silver Team, report to Dock Bay Seven for rapid deployment to planet Perlarossa.” Per protocol, the tones and announcement repeated twice more.
Taz touched her earwire as she launched into a run toward her quarters. “Be there in ten.”
She allowed herself one moment of longing for her warm, soft bed, then started her deployment checklist. Clothing from her quarters, supplies from the lockup, gear from the storeroom, stay-awake chems from the clinic. Questions could wait. Disasters never did.
Chapter 2
Salamaray, Southern Continent, Perlarossa • GDAT 3242.333