The Mind Field
Officer, so he was in charge, right? Said so right there on the side of his mug. This was Science. Javier can handle it.
    He looked at the hatch, as if it was transparent. Medbay was just across the hall, door locked open and machines on standby, in case something went wrong. He hadn’t bothered to tell them that if something went wrong during the thaw, she would be better off never waking up from whatever dreams had filled her long night. They wouldn’t understand until it was too late.
    As far as he knew, nobody had ever been successfully kept alive this long under cryo. Not because the theory was flawed, but because there was no reason.
    You found the survivors or you didn’t. She had had to be a prisoner of war, in a war that had ended five hundred and eighty–three years ago, to even be a candidate.
    Javier sipped his tea and ruminated. How could you explain to someone the rise and fall of the Union of Man , the Great War with Neu Berne , or the rise of the Concord ? Depending on how long she had been here, would she even know about the latter two?
    What do you do when you wake up, Rip Van Winkled out of five centuries of history? Everyone you knew wasn’t even a footnote any more.
    And then, to top it all off, you’ve been captured by pirates.
    Javier was a well–treated and well–respected member of this crew. But he never forgot that he was here paying off a debt as a slave. Honor. Duty. But still a ransom.
    If he brought her out of the fugue, wouldn’t she be just another slave? And did she have any skills that could make her valuable? Or would she be so hopelessly out of date that all she had to fall back on was a strong back on a mining colony?
    Javier looked down at the sleeping face and realized that she might find a fate worse than being an agricultural slave. It was still, to some extent, a man’s universe.
    The hatch opened before he could sink too deep into a funk. A body slipped in, closed it quickly. The lock keying into place got his attention.
    Sykora.
    He fixed her with a questioning stare. She had no business on this deck right now. None.
    She was impervious to his look as she strode into the room and stood across the box from him. She stared back.
    The quiet hung.
    Usually, the air crackled with negative energy when he was around her. Today, nothing. Just silence.
    She spoke first.
    “Have you decided yet?” she said quietly. It was a tone he had never heard from her before. Calm. Serene. Inquisitive.
    “Decided what?” Javier wasn’t going to play whatever game she was up to. Not right now. He would just keep score. There was always tomorrow.
    “If she lives or dies,” the tall woman replied. She had a hard look on her face.
    “I don’t make that decision, Sykora,” he said. “Sokolov does.”
    “No,” she refuted him simply, “he decides what happens after that. You decide if she ever wakes up.”
    Javier’s eyebrows threatened to crawl backwards over the top of his head. He tended to forget that underneath that tough killer exterior was a first–rate mind. Until she did things like this to remind him.
    He would have been happier not being reminded.
    “You look down and see a woman,” she continued, “and wonder if she can find a place in this world, or if she would be better off not having to make that choice.”
    Javier shrugged, unsure where she was going but unwilling to gainsay her.
    “You were raised to think of women as weak,” Sykora said. “The Union of Man was the worst, but the Concord is not much better. In Neu Berne or Balustrade , women are the equal of men, in all things.”
    “And?”
    She leaned forward, almost conspiratorially. “If that was a man, would it be a question?”
    He leaned in as well. “Would a man be at as much risk of finding worse things in life than being a slave in a mine?”
    She looked down, considered the peaceful face between them. “Is it a fate worse than death, Javier? I’ve seen men and women indentured to brothels. As

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