The Passenger Ch. 02

But the days Anne and I spent together were nothing like that. We fell into an easy, comfortable pattern. We would make love in the evenings, sleep in each other's arms, wake up in the morning and make love again. After a leisurely breakfast we'd spend some time in the gym (not that we didn't get plenty of exercise in bed) and then we'd either do some shipboard maintenance, or we'd just sit and talk. We talked a lot, like two people do when they are eager to get to know each other better. At first all that talking took me some getting used to, after so many years of flying solo. Anne seemed to understand and she let me have my silence, but soon I talked as easily as she did.

We discovered a lot in each other that we shared: our tastes in music, books and 3D, our characters, our general outlook on life, our attitudes. Of course, we didn't always agree on everything, but in those cases at least we could accept and appreciate each other's tastes, opinions and points of view. Our discussions were stimulating to both of us, and we felt more and more comfortable with each other.

Anne's adventurousness in bed made me rediscover my own, and she awakened a part of me that had been dormant for far too long. She was quite uninhibited and she encouraged me to be so, too. We got to know each other's bodies intimately, and together we discovered many, many ways to give each other pleasure.

Strangely, or perhaps not strangely at all, I often thought of Lisa. But, unlike before, this time I felt no pain. Instead I remembered the wonderful life we'd had together, the things we'd done, the happiness we had shared. And I realized how badly the pain had cheated me. These memories had always be there, waiting for me, but the pain had obscured them and robbed me of them, to the point where I did not even realize they existed. But now the pain was almost gone. Not entirely gone, but I could live with what was left.

I also spent a lot of time thinking about what would happen when Anne and I would arrive at Ursa. She would of course have to fulfill her contract with her employer, assisting with the commissioning of the environmental control units once we had delivered them. Meanwhile I would have to find another cargo, which could be hard or easy, depending on whether or not Deke would have been able to organize one for me. And then, in any other case, I would move on. But I realized I didn't want to do that. Not this time. I wasn't quite ready yet to seriously consider a future for Anne and myself, but I did know that I wanted a chance to find out whether or not there could be one. And maybe I could find a way to make that happen.

Before I could bring it up, though, she did. We were in bed, basking in the afterglow of a particularly long and tender bout of lovemaking. I held her in my arms, my nose buried in her hair, the sweet fragrance of it filling my nostrils, and the smooth, round curves of her body soft and warm against my skin.

"Harvey?" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I need to ask you something."

"Sure. Anything."

"It's kind of... serious."

I pushed myself up on one elbow to look at her.

"No problem. Shoot."

She took a deep breath.

"I know this is all going a little fast, but... Do you..."

She hesitated for a moment. I stroked her hair.

"Do you think there could be... room here, for me? On this ship, I mean."

I nodded.

"Yes, I do. I definitely think there room for you here. Are you considering a career change?"

Her gaze held mine.

"Maybe. Or maybe a life change."

"Tell her," the words came to me, in the back of my mind. But, strangely, the voice was Lisa's. "Tell her, Harvey."

Alright. I slowly nodded, more at myself than at Anne.

"Well, we'll need to make room for a bigger bed, of course. And a bigger shower. Definitely a bigger shower. These stalls are far too small for both of us."

Her smile was like a sunburst.

I thought for a moment.

"Depending on what cargo I might be able to get, we could get a lot of that done on our next fight. If you're going to live on board of this tub, I'm going to have to put you to work and crack the whip, you know."

The look in her eyes became downright naughty.

"Aye aye, captain Bligh," she said. "Do you have a whip? Or should I get you one? Along with a pair of handcuffs, maybe? I'll be your loyal crew, captain, but I can always give you some discipline issues to deal with, if you like."

I drew myself up and put on a show of dignity.

"First of all, my loyal crew, according to shipboard tradition they're not called handcuffs; they're known as 'irons'. And I could clap you in irons and heave you into the brig, except for the fact that the good ship Slowboat is, sadly, not equipped with a brig. Or with a yardarm to hang mutineers from. An oversight by the designers that I have not had a chance to correct."

She looked thoughtful.

"No brig, eh? Maybe the cargo hold would do?"

"There's a thought. But there's one problem."

"What's that?"

"Well," I said, looking into her eyes, "According to ancient tradition, a captain is not supposed to fraternize with his crew."

I bent down and gently kissed her lips.

"And I..." I continued slowly. "I am very much in love with you, I'm afraid."

She lifted her hand to caress my face.

"And what if the crew feels the same way, captain?"

I pretended to consider it.

"Well... I suppose that in that case I'll have to find a loophole in the regulations somewhere, my loyal crew."

She smiled.

"I'm sure you can. You're good with holes. You've been filling up mine just fine."

I chuckled, then became more serious.

"Anne... The sex we've been having has been nothing short of mind-blowing. And I hope we'll have lots more. But I need you to know that this is about more than just that, as far as I'm concerned."

She put her finger on my lips, shutting me up.

"I know," she whispered. "And I feel exactly the same way. Sure, the fact that you can take me from zero to volcanic orgasms in under three minutes doesn't hurt. But it's much more than that. I feel comfortable with you. I feel safe with you. I like spending time with you. It's like we've known each other for much longer than we have."

I nodded.

"That's exactly it. So I think I can say what I should have said long ago."

"What's that?"

"I love you, Anne."

"And I love you."

And in the back of my mind, Lisa smiled.

"Now was that so hard?" she whispered.

I didn't reply. I was too busy kissing Anne.

"How long will you need at Ursa to do your job?" I asked somewhat later.

She shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know. A few days. A week, maybe."

I thought for a moment.

"That's longer than I can afford to pay berthing fees for. I can probably get us unloaded and serviced quickly, and then find a long-term parking field somewhere. That way we can just get back into port, load, fuel and be out of there in a few hours when we're ready to leave Ursa."

I sat up.

"This is not always an easy job, Anne. More often than not it's long weeks of flight during which nothing happens at all, but as soon as you land you start bleeding credits every minute you spend on the ground. Landing fees, berthing fees, service fees, jump calculation fees, traffic control fees, taxes... It never ends. So you're always under pressure to get a new cargo quickly and then get out of there as soon as you can. So you work around the clock more often than not, and when you don't, it's only because you are forced to wait, and usually you're unable to sleep anyway then, because you might or might not make it by the skin of your teeth depending on how long a delay you'll have to deal with. If it takes too long, you run out of money and you won't have enough left to take off with a new cargo. That's when you lose your ship."

I gave her a long look.

"Are you sure that's really the sort of life you want?"

She smiled softly.

"You've been doing this for a long time, Harvey. I believe that if you can do it, I can do it. And I realize it won't always be easy. But I believe that we can be happy together doing this. I believe that I want us to give it a chance at the very least."

I put my arms around her, pulled her close, hugged her.

"It's settled then," I said softly. "You're hereby hired as a crew member of the good ship Slowboat for a fee of one credit per standard year plus other valuable considerations."

She raised her face up to me and her lips parted. Our mouths touched and we kissed deeply, our tongues meeting in a gentle battle of love and passion. And later, after enjoying some of those other valuable considerations and we slept in each other's arms, her body warm and soft against mine, it felt so right, so familiar, as if we'd been doing it for years and years.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast I felt great. Waking up with Anne's luscious lips wrapped around my cock does wonders for my mood, but this morning was different somehow. I felt... Light. Happy. I couldn't remember when I had last felt that way. Anne seemed to feel it too. The smile she'd had on her face since she woke me up this morning hadn't left her for one moment.

While she dropped her breakfast dishes into the autokitchen's return chute, I turned to the flight panel for the regular instruments check. Flight conditions remain constant while you're in hyperspace, and it's unthinkable that even one readout would change during flight, but you check anyway. It's the sort of practice that keeps you alive.

As I got up from the pilot's chair, I felt the warmth of her presence behind me. I turned, and the soft, round curves of her gorgeous body molded themselves against me. She sighed deeply.

"You look happy," I said.

She smiled happily and nodded.

"Yes. There's something about being with you... I have never felt this happy in my whole life. It's like I... It's like... It's like... It's like..."

She stopped, a faintly surprised look on her face. Then she froze.

"Anne? What's wrong?"

And she dropped onto the floor, collapsing into a heap like a bundle of rags before me.

"Anne! Anne!"

I knelt beside her on the floor, put my hand against her face.

"Anne!"

I patted her face, tried to rouse her. There was no reaction. I grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her. Then, to my horror, I noticed she wasn't breathing. A cold fist wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed. I put my fingers against her neck, checking for a pulse. I didn't feel one.

I can't describe the fear I felt at that moment. But this was not the time to lose my head. Pulling myself together, I got up and ran to where the medpack was mounted to the bulkhead. I slammed the release and carried the boxy unit back to her. I put it down and hit the big red button. While the medpack powered up I straightened her out, ripped open her coveralls and attached the unit's 'trodes to her temple, neck, chest, wrists and ankles, following the diagram on the medpack's front panel.

The unit beeped and the 'ready' light came on. The diagnostic indicator blinked, then went off. The readout display flashed, and the words "Keep clear" appeared on it. The unit beeped, beeped again, and Anne's body convulsed as the medpack tried to restart her heart. Another beep, another shock. And another. Then the medpack emitted a continuous beep, and I didn't need to look at the display to know its diagnosis. Her face was slack, and her skin was as pale as a bed sheet.

I'd lost her. She was gone.

* * *

For a moment time stopped. I just sat there, frozen, kneeling on the floor behind the pilot's chair. Then I went crazy for a while, I guess. I remember screaming. I remember shaking her unmoving body, shouting her name, begging her open her eyes, to get up, to say something. I tried CPR, not caring that the medpack had failed to revive her. Then I just sat there and screamed. When I came to my senses, my face was wet with tears.

I sat there, next to her, looking at her pale, still form for the longest time. The readout on the medpack blinked red in the corner of my eye: "RESPIRATION: 0 - HEART RATE: 0 - SYNAPTIC ACTIVITY: 0 - DIAGNOSIS: DEATH, NO RESUSCITATION POSSIBLE."

It didn't tell me anything new.

I knew there were a lot of things I had do now, and I'd better get started as soon as possible. There were formalities to be considered, medpack log records to be saved, forms to be filled out. A death on board of a ship with a small crew comes with a lot of complications. Which makes sense, if you think about it. Spaceport authorities tend to become very suspicious when tramp freighter captains arrive with fewer passengers than they left the previous port with. They would be very interested in every bit of procedure that wasn't followed to the letter. They would also want to perform an autopsy.

Small ships are rarely equipped with a morgue or similar facilities to preserve the bodies of deceased crew members or passengers for the remainder of the flight. Some specialized freighters might be equipped with freezers or even with cryo storage, but those are rare. So the standard procedure is to put the remains in the cargo hold, exit hyperspace, and slowly depressurize the hold so that the exposure to the cold and vacuum of space preserves the body without damaging it. Then, after re-entering hyperspace without any changes in course or speed, it is possible to complete the trip without requiring new jump calculations.

And I was going to have to deal with all that and more, but right now I could face none of it. All I knew was that I couldn't bear to see her lying on that cold, hard, steel floor like that. So I switched off the medpack, then went into my cabin to get a blanket to cover her with. When I came back, I knelt down beside her and touched her face. It was stone cold.

And then a miracle happened.

She opened her eyes.

She took a breath. Her body shuddered. She opened her mouth.

"It's like... It's like..." she said.

Then her eyes focused.

"Harvey?"

For a moment I sat there, frozen. Then, suddenly, I held her in my arms. She was icy-cold and shivering.

"Anne! Anne... Oh gods, Anne! You're alive!"

Tears ran down my face, but this time they were tears of joy, as a vast weight was lifted from me.

"Harvey? What happened? I'm so cold."

I wrapped her in the blanket. Then I held her, I hugged her, I squeezed her. I kissed her face. It was wet with my tears.

"Harvey? Are you alright? What's wrong?"

I couldn't help it. I began to giggle. She asked me if I was alright! That was just too... I just laughed. Then I found I couldn't stop laughing. I laughed until my sides hurt. Dimly I realized I was being hysterical. A long last I pulled myself together somehow. I forced myself to be calm, to take a deep breath.

"Harvey?"

"I'm okay," I gasped, when I felt somewhat in control of myself again. "Alright. What happened is that you collapsed. You weren't breathing, and you had no pulse. I hooked you up to the medpack, and it tried to resuscitate you. It couldn't. You were... Anne, the medpack said you were dead."

"Dead? Are you serious? I'm fine. Just... cold."

She was still shivering, but her face was no longer as pale.

I shook my head.

"No. Anne, you weren't breathing. You had no pulse. Nothing. For... at least half an hour. I'm telling you. You..." I swallowed. "The medpack said you were dead. And you looked like you were."

Still shivering, she looked at me, eyebrows raised.

"But I'm not. So I wasn't. Your medpack must be malfunctioning."

I nodded.

"I guess so."

"So I must just have just... Passed out."

I slowly shook my head.

"No. Anne, I... I don't know what happened. But you didn't just faint or something. You..."

She must have seen it on my face, in my eyes.

"And you really thought... Oh, Harvey..."

She sat up, moved the blanket aside and put her arms around me.

"I'm okay, my love. I promise. I'm fine," she whispered.

Her skin felt a little warmer now, and she wasn't shivering as much anymore.

"I love you, Anne."

"And I love you, my love."

We sat there for a while, holding each other. Then she put the blanket on the floor and looked down at the open front of her flight suit.

"Can we get these wires off of me?"

I nodded.

"Of course. But first let me have a quick look at you."

I reached over and switched the medpack back on, keyed for a general check-up and watched as the medpack ran through a list of Anne's vital functions. All conditions were green as they scrolled across the display. The only item displayed in amber was her metabolic rate, which the medpack judged to be rather low, but not alarmingly so. I keyed 'OK' and the medpack switched back to its main display. I scrolled through her vitals: respiration: 12; heart rate: 63, synaptic activity... None.

No synaptic activity? What the..

"Ehm? Hm."

"What is it, Harvey?"

"Probably nothing. Let me check..."

I examined the 'trode attached to her temple, then the lead attached to it. It all looked alright to me. I shrugged.

"According to the medpack you're brain-dead. No synaptic activity."

"Brain-dead? Well, there you go. Your medpack's busted. Unless you think I'm brain-dead. Hey, I've been called worse."

I managed a smile.

"Yeah... I guess you're right. It must be the medpack."

But as I peeled the 'trodes off her skin and helped her up, I was troubled. Whatever it was that had happened to Anne was more than just a fainting spell and a messed-up diagnosis by a bad medpack unit.

We didn't do much that day. I was too shaken to focus on anything, and I think Anne understood. We sat together, talked, held each other, had a light lunch. Our lovemaking that afternoon was soft, slow and tender. We hugged, we kissed, we shared, and somehow our union was more spiritual than physical. When we finally climaxed in unison, it was soft and sweet and almost incidental.

Later, when she slept, I got up quietly, being careful not to wake her. I switched on the medpack, which was still sitting on the mess table. I put the 'trodes on myself: temple, neck, chest, wrists and ankles. I ran a full check-up and a full diagnostic, then put the medpack through a complete systems test.

It was working perfectly, synaptic activity readings and all.

* * *

Four days later it happened again. We had finished dinner and Anne just came out of the shower, her skin still slightly damp and glowing with an almost golden sheen. She stretched in all her naked glory, looking like a goddess in that pose: her golden locks framing her lovely face; her full breasts lifted high; her back arched; her slim waist seamlessly continuing into the smooth, round curve of her hips; the lovely legs, the delicate pink folds between them... She took my breath away.

"See anything you like?" she whispered, her smile full of promise.

"Oh, Anne... You look... You're so..."

Words failed me. She stepped up to me and took me in her arms. Her soft, damp skin felt wonderful.

"Anne... I love you."

"And I love you, my love," she whispered. "I love you like I have never loved anyone. I can't tell you how... how... how..."

And she went limp in my arms. I caught her before she fell. It was like trying to hold up a rag doll. I was holding her already, so I lifted her up, carried her through to my cabin and put her on the bed. I put my fingers on her neck, then her wrist. I could feel no pulse. Her chest was still; she wasn't breathing, and her face was deadly pale. Not knowing what else to do, I sat down on the bed next to her and stroked her hair.

You may get the impression at this point that I was less worried, or at least less devastated, than the first time. You would be very wrong. My stomach felt like a big lump of polycrete. There was ice around my heart, and the entire weight of the Slowboat sat on my chest. Would this time be for real? What was happening? Would she recover like she had before? Or not? What could I do? Was there anything I could do?