Hellburner

“So what do you want to do, Dek-boy? I mean, granted we all get our wants, —what’s yours?”

Scariest question he’d ever asked Dekker. And Dekker took a while thinking about it, he guessed, Meg sort of leaning up against Dekker, one visible hand on his arm— where the other one was might have something to do with his concentration….

But Dekker said, real quiet, “I want to be the one cuts that tape. I want to be the one that does it, Ben.”

He wished he hadn’t asked. Sincerely wished he hadn’t asked. Sincerely wished Meg would put her hand somewhere to disrupt the boy’s concentration and shake him out of his spook notions.

“There a chance?” Meg asked, quiet too; and he thought. God, it’s in the water, they got to put it in the water—

Dekker didn’t answer that one right off. ‘ ‘If they let me back in the sims, there is…” And a few beats later. “But I’m not doing it with you, Meg. I can’t do it with you.”

Silence from Meg. Then: “Yeah.”

“I don’t mean that.” Dekker stopped cold, took Meg by the shoulders and made her look at him. “I mean I don’t want to. I can’t work with you….”

Meg didn’t look real happy. Meg was about as white and as tight-lipped as he’d ever seen her. Meg shoved his hands off. “You got a problem, mister? You got a problem with me not being good enough, that’s one thing, you got a problem about setting me on any damn shelf to look at— that’s another. You say I’m shit at the boards, that’s all right, that’s your damned opinion, let’s see how the Aptitudes come out. I’ll find a team and I’ll fly with somebody, we’ll sleep together sometimes, fine. Or I’ll wash out of here. But you don’t set me on any damn shelf!”

After which Meg walked off alone down the hall, sound of boots on the decking, head down. Not happy. Hell, Ben thought, with a view of Dekker’s back, Dekker just standing there. Sal was with him—he wondered that Sal didn’t go with Meg; he was still wondering when Dekker lit out after Meg, walking fast and wobbling a little.

“You make sense out of either one of ‘em?” he asked Sal.

“Yeah,” Sal said. “Both.”

Surprised him. Most things came down to Belter and Inner-systemer. So maybe this was something he just wasn’t tracking. He asked, for his own self-preservation: “Yeah? I know why he’s following. I don’t know why she’s pissed.”

Sal said, “Told you last night.”

“He didn’t say she couldn’t fly. He said—“

“He said not with him. Not on his ship. She’ll beat his ass. That’s what he’s asking for.”

Talking was going on down the hall, near the exit. Looked hot and heavy.

Sal said, “She’ll pass those Aptitudes. You never seen Meg mad.”

He thought he had. Maybe not, on the other hand. Meg was still lighting into Dekker—boy was a day out of hospital, shaky on his feet, and he didn’t look as if he was holding his own down there.

Then Dekker must’ve said something, because Meg eased off a little.

Probably it was Yes. Probably. Meg was still standing there. Meg and Dekker walked off together toward the security door, so he figured they’d better catch up.

The other side of the door, Meg said, “We got it worked out.”

Ben said, “Not fair, man’s not up to this.” Dekker looked as if he wanted holding on his feet, as was. But Dekker said,

“Going to try for that tape, Ben. You want to test in?”

He threw a shocked look back at the doors, where roomfuls of walking dead were flying nonexistent ships. ‘To that? No way in hell. Non-com-ba-tant, do you read? No way the UDC is risking my talent in a damn missile. I’ll test for data entry before I do that—“

“What’s Stockholm got?” Sal asked. “They say Pell’s got a helldeck puts Sol to shame. Got eetees and everything.”

“Yeah?” He was unmoved. “I’ve seen pictures. Can’t be mat good in bed.”

“Got real biostuffs, just like Earth. There’s Pell, there’s Mariner Station—“