The Net was a bit harder to test, and since it was the one that could actually get people killed, it was imperative that Pendt get it right. If she could get it to work, then they would know it was safe for Ned to leave.
The system they worked out was a variation on the one they used to train Pendt on the Well. They made sure that there was a maintenance check on the schedule, and then Pendt practiced activating it with nothing to catch. When she could activate the Net on every try, they moved up to catching the uncrewed drones that arrived, empty, from Katla five times a week to be filled with any unprocessed oglasa that Brannick had accumulated. Pendt didn’t miss any of them.
Finally, the day arrived when Pendt would catch a crewed ship. It was the Cleland. Choria knew what she was getting into, and trusted Pendt’s record. Also, she was coming to Brannick to pick up Ned (and a few other rebel sundries she didn’t tell them about), so it seemed fitting.
Pendt was very nervous.
“You’ll be fine,” Ned said. “Just pretend it’s a drone.”
“Choria doesn’t even know you and she trusts you based on the work you’ve done,” Fisher pointed out. “I can’t think of a bigger vote of confidence.”
Pendt thought she might throw up. She hadn’t felt like this since she realized a month on Brannick passed, and there was no sign of her aunt. She was made of nerves, and all of them were on fire.
“Activating the Net,” Pendt said.
She reached for the æther the way Ned did, the way the baby would someday. Usually she went into a pattern and felt her way to the parts that would welcome her changes, but this was far more direct. The switch was right at the top. Flipping it was easy. Anything beyond that, any change or alteration to the actual system, would drain her.
The Net surged to life and Pendt held it steady for five whole minutes as the Cleland landed in it. Pendt was new to hugs—activating was like throwing her arms as wide as a spaceship and catching the moving colossus—but if she thought of it as folding someone into an embrace, it was easier for her to execute.
“You did it!” Ned said. He picked her up and swung her around like she hadn’t been putting on weight steadily since her arrival. She laughed, picturing herself as the ship and him as the Net, catching her.
Fisher grinned and clapped her on the back after Ned set her on her feet.
“We did it,” Pendt said. “How long do you have?”
“Three hours,” Ned said. “Choria wants me well on board before they leave. It’s enough time for one more meal.”
He grinned at her. She smiled back.
* * *
• • •
The three of them went up to the apartment one last time. Ned’s things were mostly packed, but both Fisher and Pendt had independently got him gifts to take with him. Fisher went first.
“I know whatever you take has to be small,” he said. “And that you might lose it in a storm of thrilling heroics, but I still thought this was a good idea.”
He handed Ned a small package. Ned tore the paper off and smiled when he saw what he was holding in his hands.
After a moment, he handed the frame to Pendt so he could hug his brother.
Pendt looked at the image captured in it: two boys who were clearly younger versions of Fisher and Ned themselves, and two adults.
“Mum and Dad,” Ned said. “Catrin and Ned the Elder. It’s them I’m fighting for. I miss them so much.”
“I miss them too,” Fisher said. “And I miss you already, even though you’re a jerk and you haven’t even left yet.”
“How am I a jerk?” Ned protested, laughing.
“You’re supposed to be fighting for all of us,” Fisher said. He was laughing too.
“I’ll manage it somehow,” Ned said.
“I have something as well,” Pendt said. She had taken apart the crown that Ned and Fisher had given her for the wedding and figured out how to save the flowers under glass. The boys huddled over them. “I learned how to dry them and pressed a few into glass for you. It’s very sentimental. I’m honestly kind of proud of myself.”
Ned snickered and set the glass where they could all see it. The flowers were mostly red and orange, bright and warm against the cold and dark of deep space.
“I love them,” he said. “No matter where I go in this wide, wide universe of ours, I will always think fondly of the top of your head.”
“Fisher’s right,” Pendt said. “You are a jerk.”
“Hey now, I was promised a last meal,” Ned said. “Of course I’m a jerk. I haven’t been fed.”
“Back to the bar?” Pendt asked. “For old times’ sake?”
There were several other restaurants on the colonnade that Pendt actually preferred, but once she started being sentimental, it became a habit.
“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of several pieces of cake in place of a meal,” Fisher said. He got up and went to the refrigeration unit. “And what do you know! No need to go out. There’s a whole selection right here!”
Ned got plates and forks, and they divided up the spoils. Pendt noticed that all her favourite flavours were present, and that Fisher was sure to point out the ones she hadn’t tried yet. She decided flan was disturbing. As the clock ticked down and they maxed out on the amount of sugar a human could consume, they ate more slowly, savouring each bite until it was time to go.
Fisher carried one of Ned’s bags as they all went down to the bay where the Cleland was docked. People came out to see Ned off. Some of them looked frightened, but a medical release had been delivered to everyone on the station that morning, and they all knew that the Brannicks were still in residence. They reached the bay, and just the three of them were permitted inside. Pendt was glad to be free of the crush and grateful they would be able to say their goodbyes with fewer witnesses. She thought to duck away and give the brothers a few moments, but Ned pulled her close and didn’t let her go when he caught Fisher in the other arm.
“I’m going to miss you both,” he said. “I know this is ridiculous, but I feel like I’d be doing so much more if I was out there, fighting. I was never meant for the station, no matter what my stupid genes say, and we’ve always known it.”
“I have,” Fisher said. “I’m glad you found a way. I’m glad Pendt found us.”
“You take care of my brother,” Ned said, tears in his eyes. Pendt blinked. “He’s always wanted to run Brannick Station, even though he’s never said it. And he’ll be better at it than I ever was.”