“All Ned had to do was press a button,” Fisher said. “But I suppose that’s what happens when you are the key.”
“Yes,” Pendt said. “It’s cruel, either way. To put so much life on a single person’s chromosomes. Space is harsh and the Harland was far from pleasant, but at least my aunt never lied about the fact that all of us were needed.”
“It’s control,” Fisher said. “The Stavengers were dying, and they wanted to make sure we couldn’t flourish without them. I think that’s what made Ned so angry. He never shirked his duty, but he felt like any problem Brannick Station had was his fault. He was desperate to fight, personally.”
“You never were?” Pendt asked. Fisher had never mentioned wanting to accompany his brother, even just to know what he was up to without waiting for dispatches.
“No,” Fisher said. “Don’t get me wrong, I want the Hegemony’s hold on the stations gone, but my style of fighting is different.”
“Rebellion is a new concept to me,” Pendt admitted. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Well, someone has to make sure the fighters eat,” Fisher said. “And someone has to make sure that ships get sent where they need to be, and that ore is processed for new weapons.”
“Someone has to run the hospital,” Pendt said. “And make sure they have a place to rest when there’s a break in the fighting.”
“Exactly,” Fisher said. “There aren’t usually stories about those people, but they’re just as necessary. Ned understood that. He appreciated what I wanted to do. My rebellion is that I love myself and I want to run this station anyway. I want to be the Brannick.”
For the first time since she’d known him, Pendt wanted to ask. She shifted in her seat, moving closer to him without meaning to. It was always comfortable, being close to Fisher. That didn’t give her the right to pry.
“Everyone gets that look with me, eventually,” Fisher said. “But it’s been weeks, and you have never asked. Not once. You’ve never made me feel uncomfortable and you’ve never judged me, and you’ve never said a word.”
“I have a slight advantage,” Pendt admitted.
He smiled, and she relaxed. She put her head against the cushions, very close to where his hand was resting.
“No one ever said it, but I’ve always known I’d be more useful for the Brannicks if I was a girl,” Fisher said. “I could have made an alliance with another station, traveled and made connections for trade. Ned could never have done that. His work always had to be here.”
“But you’re not a girl,” Pendt said. “And you never have been.”
“No,” Fisher said.
“My family told me I was useless all the time,” Pendt said. “I was a waste of calories until I was old enough for them to use. My rebellion is that I left them before I could pay them back.”
“You don’t owe them anything.” Fisher took her hand in both of his and squeezed it. “A person is worth more than what they’re born as.”
Pendt looked at him.
“Right,” he said. “I guess I expected you to challenge me, somehow. To make me justify it. My parents never did, and Ned certainly didn’t. But sometimes a new person comes to the station, and I can just feel it wafting off them.”
“That’s a disgusting image,” Pendt said, wrinkling her nose. She thought for a moment, her hand still warm in Fisher’s, and then spoke again. “I’m not saying that what we’ve gone through is the same. It actually couldn’t be more different. But I think perhaps my upbringing made me sympathetic to yours, if that makes any sense. It’s not the same, but it’s similar enough that we understand each other.”
“I think you understand me more than I understand you,” Fisher said. “Just thinking about your family makes my blood boil.”
Pendt smiled at him. She didn’t really need it, but it was nice to have someone who was always ready to ride to her defense. She turned slightly and rested her head against his shoulder instead of the sofa. It was definitely not as soft, but somehow it was even more natural.
She’d become quite familiar with Ned’s body before he left, and he with hers, but there had never been this sort of comfort between them. There was always a task. Perhaps more on her part than Ned’s. He had never pushed her, but now that she had read a few books and eavesdropped on a few dinner dates at the bar, she was aware that he had been less concerned with the end goal than she was.
Pendt had never learned how to be quiet with Ned. On the Harland, all relationships were transactions, and that was how she’d interacted with him. He’d been good to her, much better than anyone else had ever been, but she still thought of it as part of their bargain, the way in which she purchased her freedom from her family. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted the sort of relationship with Ned that she had with Fisher. Ned was brash and charming, and she liked him, but Fisher was steady and sweet, and she liked that much more.
Fisher had gone still when she put her head on his shoulder. She looked up at him to make sure that he was comfortable. She didn’t want to make him uneasy. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing slowly, like he wanted to remember what this felt like before he let himself believe that it was real enough to see. He was still holding her hand, but he shifted so that their fingers were linked.
“Do you love Ned?” Fisher asked. His voice was low, like he was afraid of the answer.
“I’ve never loved anyone,” Pendt said. “Not like you mean, anyway. I like him, obviously. He’s almost impossible to not like. But no, I don’t love him.”
“I do,” Fisher said.
“I know,” Pendt said. “I wish I did, if that makes sense. I wish I loved my brothers, and I wish I knew who my father was, and I wish my mother was more like yours. I never wished any of that before I got here. You made my heart grow, and now I have to figure out where everyone fits inside it.”
“Even me?” Fisher asked. This time he looked at her. He was very close.
“Especially you,” Pendt said.
Ned had never really kissed her. There had been mouths on skin and on other things, but never the warm press of his lips on hers, the soft searching of his tongue.
Fisher kissed her slowly, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. He leaned down for an eternity before he touched her, and she thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t skipped the steamy parts in the books Ned had left so that she knew to turn her face to his and wait. After that part, though, the books proved completely useless.
Fisher’s hands slid up her arms, drawing her body close to his. It was a precarious balancing act, but she trusted him to bear her weight. He held her face gently in his hands, like she was precious and good, and his mouth moved over hers. She was warm, suddenly, right down to her toes, and surged towards him. The shift in weight pushed him back against the arm of the sofa and pressed her chest against his. He laughed, breathless, and caught her in his arms, straightening his legs beneath her so that he could hold her body more comfortably. He kissed her again.