NaNoWriMo, Day 13: 1,510 / 31,180

I’m gonna miss another day tomorrow, most likely: delayed anniversary celebration. Which is, indeed, more important.


So, they quarantined One-Eighteen that afternoon. Surface, orbital, everybody. Greg had ordered it (and Maki approved) even before Captain Rubicon had called up to demand — exactly that. From what Greg told me later, Rubicon had looked mildly surprised to hear it had already been done; and unexpectedly pleased when we insisted that the quarantine applied to his ship, too.

“I get the feeling that Rubicon doesn’t think we’re on the stick,” Nur told me as we went over my hauler. I had ended up flying myself back because it was just the easiest way to do it, but I hadn’t been at my best and my landing was surprisingly hard for a contragrav vehicle. So Nur was there to keep one eye on any possible future problems with the vehicle — and another eye on me. Things kept attacking me, after all. It might make me feel a little put-upon, and irrational.

“Is that a corporate ‘we,’a colonial ‘we,’ or both?” I asked as I went over the bottom of the hull. I don’t know how it regenerates minor damage, but it seemed to be healing up properly, and that was ultimately the important thing. “And do we care? At this point, the Redacted can’t take off anyway.”

“I think he defaults to just not being impressed with anybody who isn’t part of this Council of his, Pam. And we have to care, because if his ship can’t take off then they’re not leaving. More of them might even leave the ship.”

“Well, that’s nice,” I said as I started feeding the windshields. “They could use the fresh air.”