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“But I’m not entirely sure what you’re so afraid of.”
Was he stupid? Orion had always considered Boris to be relatively intelligent, practical, and capable of deductive reasoning. Did this need to be spelled out for him?
Orion’s words came slow and strained as he laid out the situation.
“As the commander of a colony ship, I will have no life. I will have nothing except my duties. Just thousands of people depending on me to lead their ship wherever the fuck in search of whatever the fuck. There will be no spa. There will be no peace. There will be no quiet. Certainly no pussy except the one or two I end up having to marry to produce more genes for the fucking ship, if they survive the ordeal. My life will never be my own again. How do you not get that, and why the fuck are you rolling your eyes?”
Orion wanted to punch something, feeling the familiar prickle against the roof of his mouth. He jabbed the point of his tongue into his cheek—a habit he'd learned early to bring himself down.
Boris leaned back.
“The ship needs your genes, but so what? You’ll need to be the one to confirm commands? Put your hand in some hole to change navigation coordinates? The real work can be done by someone else. Someone more interested in the job. I’d bet your mother has a whole team helping decide her every move. All you’ll need to do is lift a finger now and again, maybe provide some blood for the ‘critical’ decisions. You’ll be a commander—delegate! And the women? Who’s going to bother you if you decide to have some fun on the side? Theyneedyou, Orion. Nobody’s going to fire you or cut you off once you get the job because they can’t. Make your own rules and enjoy living in prosperity on your own ship.”
So many rebuttals screamed in Orion’s head as Boris spoke, but each caught on his tongue before he uttered it. Boris didn’t understand. He didn’t have the full picture. He was just a planet-born, with no idea of what it meant to live on a colony, much less run one.
But Orion had to admit that Boris wasn’tentirelywrong. Maybe the worst-case scenario wasn’t as tragic as he’d built it up in his head over the years. Maybe he didn’t need to live up to his mother’s expectations once he took over—she would already be Uploaded, partying it up in Heaven somewhere.
“When do you leave?”
Orion groaned. He’d been avoiding this part: checking the itinerary his mother would’ve no doubt already sent over to him.
“Later,” he said.
Boris raised an eyebrow. “And tonight?”
“Tonight we enjoy the beginning of the end of my freedom.”
* * *
Orion woke up on his couch the next morning to an incessant chiming that drove nails into his pounding, hungover head. He sat up and scrubbed his palms over his face, shoulders slumping. With a grunt, he closed his eyes and brought the message up against the blackness of his lids.
It was a trip itinerary, alerting him that his ship was leaving in half an hour.
Fuck!
Already? Was she really expecting him to get all his business in order and jump to it so quickly? Not that he had much business…but still.
He rose, skin constricting at the chill. He liked his quarters cold in the morning—as uninhabitable as possible for whoever spent the night, encouraging them to leave for the warmth of wherever the fuck they came from. Mostly though, his body just ran hot.
Orion stretched his arms over his head and arched his back, groaning at the satisfying pull of joints and muscles. He downed a hot shot of caffeine and bitter syrup topped with foamed pea extract. Most cabins on the station did not come with their own hydra taps, but this one did. Not only that, it could concoct any number of water-based mixtures.
Assured the caffeine was spreading through his system, Orion pulled on a black carbonsilk shirt and trousers, then stepped into a pair of leather boots. Genuine leather, farmed on an artificial satellite of Saturn. He was roaming around his quarters, stuffing whatever he would consider essentials into a pack, when the door slid open.
“Good, you’re ready.” Orion motioned Boris to the hydra station. “Drink?”
Boris shook his head, hovering in the open doorway.
“You’re letting the good air out.” Orion frowned.
“Since when do you care about wasting air?” But he entered and allowed the door to slip shut behind him.
“Where’s your pack? Ship leaves in…” Orion closed his eyes briefly, checking the countdown. “Five minutes. But don’t worry. It’ll wait.”
“I’m not going, Orion.”
“Hmm?” Orion had been zipping up the pack and slinging it over his shoulder.
“I’m not going.”
