Beacon 23: Part Four: Company (Kindle Single) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Knowing I shouldn’t, but that I’m gonna anyway, I squeeze the mic.
    “I’ve got something even better,” I say.
     
     

• 6 •
     
    Claire is waiting for me at the lock collar. The split second the outer door of my lifeboat opens, I realize that she’s gonna see me for the first time, without the helmet, with my hair way out of regs, and with my gaunt face.
    Whatever she’s thinking, she manages a smile. The cramp in my cheeks is a hint for me to not smile back quite so much.
    “Beacon warming present,” I say, holding out the black plastic bag.
    Claire looks at it quizzically, but accepts. There’s a length of red wire twisted around the top of the bag. It’s the kind of bag our air filters come in. I’m supposed to toss them in the recycler, but Cricket loves batting them around the modules.
    “If this is wine, I’m gonna want to know where you got it from,” she says.
    I watch as she twists the wire off and opens the bag. Reaching inside, she pulls out the can of WD-80.
    “You can never have enough,” I explain. “And I noticed the circ fan was squeaking a little the last time I was here.”
    She laughs. “You’re sweet.” The words hit me like a knee to the gut.
    “Yeah, well.” I point awkwardly at the can. “It’s a good year, too.”
    “And this is supposed to be better than a beer?” she asks.
    “Oh, no, I just wanted to bring you something. The . . . uh, follow me?”
    I step past her, and she closes the airlock behind me. I take the ladder first. The pristine nature of the beacon hits me just as hard this time. The two beacons are like their occupants, I guess. One flawless. The other horribly disfigured.
    Up in the command module, I duck my head inside the long tunnel that leads off to the GWB. With a swimming motion from my arms, and a good leap, I launch myself down the chute, spiraling a little so the handholds are above and below me, smooth walls to either side, my fingertips brushing the surface to keep me centered. At the other end, I hit the gravity generated by the floor of the GWB module. I turn and wait for Claire. She’s right behind me, gliding through space, upside down, so that her worried frown matches my smile.
    She catches herself at the edge of the chute and aligns herself to gravity, then lowers herself like a gunner gets in her tank. The space is tight for two. With Cricket, it’s never a worry, as she tries to curl up in my lap. With Cricket, it’s comfortable. Here, it’s overtly intimate. I wonder if this is why I brought her here. Then I remember why I brought her here. I move over and sit with my back to the GWB, patting the grating beside me. “Sit,” I say. And by habit, it sounds too much like I’m talking to Cricket. “If, you know . . . you want to.”
    She settles in beside me.
    “I don’t know why it does this, but just rest your head back against the dome and relax. You should feel it. Like a sip of whiskey.”
    We both sit there for a few breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. The unblinking stars peer in through the porthole.
    “Do you feel it?” I ask.
    Claire doesn’t answer at first.
    “Yeah,” she whispers. “I . . . I think so.”
    We sit like that for what feels like a few minutes. That’s an eternity to sit with a stranger in silence. I feel a nice numbness creep into my bones. I feel my mind relaxing, words coming to me, tumbling out between my lips like soldiers from a trench.
    “Whadja do before you became a tuner?” I ask. I’m assuming she was an engineer. In maintenance or assembly. One of those egghead roles.
    “Same as you,” she says, her voice a little quiet and distant. “Army. Two tours.”
    This tries to register, but doesn’t quite. She’s too clean for that. Too pure.
    “I enlisted after Delphi,” she adds.
    “Yeah,” I say. “I guess a lot of people did. You see any action?”
    Claire doesn’t answer.
    I hate myself as soon as the words leave my lips. Like a general regretting his orders, watching his