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 his normal job in operations, so she brewed him a tea instead. It had no stimulating effects, as far as she could tell, but it tasted nice and it was warm to hold, and maybe that would help.
“Ned never questioned who I was, you know,” Fisher said when Pendt handed him the cup and sat down with her own. “He said he’d watched me grow, and he knew better than anyone. Which is ridiculous, and was even more ridiculous when we were five, but it still helped me a lot when things were challenging.”
“Ned had a way with people,” Pendt said. “I don’t exactly trust easily, and his opening line was terrible.”
“Right? I thought we’d lost you for sure,” Fisher agreed. He took a sip of the tea, which Pendt counted as a win. She knew exactly how many calories he’d eaten in the past few days, and it wasn’t enough. The tea didn’t have much to offer, but perhaps it would remind him to put things in his mouth.
“I think we could have resented each other, you know?” Fisher said. “I wanted what he had, and he wanted what I could do, and neither of us was content with what life gave us to start with. But instead he made us a team, and we did everything together.”
Fisher’s voice caught in his throat, and Pendt braced herself. Fisher hadn’t shown much emotion to her since they’d got the news, and she didn’t mind. Fisher needed to grieve in his own way. But if he was going to fall now, she was going to do her best to catch him.
“I knew he’d leave,” Fisher said. “I always knew he’d leave as soon as he could. And I thought about being alone, but I didn’t think about being alone forever. I thought he’d come back. We were always a team. But no one comes back. Brannicks go into space and the Hegemony takes them, one way or another.”
There was an edge to his voice she’d never heard before. He was angry, beyond furious, and she couldn’t help him.
“Will you go to avenge them?” she asked delicately. “No one would blame you if you wanted to join the rebellion now.”
“I can’t leave you here alone,” Fisher said.
“Yes,” Pendt said. “You can.”
It hung there for a moment between them.
“I won’t leave you alone,” Fisher said, his promise low and harsh. “The Hegemony has taken my whole family, and I want to hurt them, but we will do it from here, you and I. We will find a way.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Pendt said. “We still need a true Brannick.”
“After today, they’ll all think you’re the truest Brannick in a generation,” Fisher said.
He set his cup down, and Pendt noticed that his hands were shaking. She set her own cup down and reached out to take his hand in hers. He looked at her, wild grief in his eyes as the tears started to fall.
“I miss him so much.” Fisher’s voice was hoarse with tears. “I’ve never been without him and I don’t know what to do.”
“We’ll find a way,” Pendt promised. “I don’t know how, but we’ll find a way.”
Fisher hiccoughed as the tears started to fall freely. He pitched forward and landed with his head in her lap. She stroked his hair as he cried himself out, running her fingertips across his scalp as his breathing evened and he fell asleep. It could not have been very comfortable, but she wouldn’t have moved him for all the ore in the Harland’s hold.
“We’ll find a way,” Pendt said, as much to herself as anyone else.
Brannick Station hummed around her. Home and safe, very sad, but hers. And she would risk everything to keep it that way.
21.
THE FIRST THING PENDT did was make sure everything was still legal. Not wanting to bother Fisher, she arranged to borrow Dulcie’s office for an afternoon. The foreman immediately understood her purpose and granted her access to the files she was going to need. Then Dulcie went to the quartermaster to see about getting Pendt her own workspace—between hydroponics and the apartment, Pendt had never really needed one, but she was forced to admit that Dulcie had a point—and Pendt got to work.
Marriage was such an antiquated concept that she wasn’t sure how or if death factored into it. She felt awful, reducing Ned to a line on the page of questions she had to answer, but she had no choice. For the safety of everyone on Brannick Station, she had to belong to it.
The documentation was fairly clear cut, all things considered. Dulcie had done countless weddings on the station, but this was her first marriage ever, and she’d made sure to access all the information the historical database would give her, apparently. Pendt had read the contract the day she signed it, but going over it now, she appreciated it thoroughness. She had married Ned, but it was Fisher, as head of the family, who controlled her future. Ned’s death didn’t change that. She was a Brannick until she died.
Pendt called up the secondary contract, the one Ned had signed to ease his conscience over the whole affair. He’d written it himself, guaranteeing Pendt full rights to her body, her assets, and as much autonomy as the station could allow her. She cried a little bit as she read it. Ned had been so sweet. The two contracts didn’t contradict each other, which was what Pendt had been worried about. Her aunt was very good at finding loopholes, and if one existed in the second contract, Pendt had to know in order to prepare herself. But all seemed well enough.
The door hissed, and Dulcie came back into her office.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.
Pendt ceded her chair to her.
“Yes,” she said. “I think we are all safe with the original arrangement.”
“That ship of yours,” Dulcie said. “There’s something not quite right about it.”