Free The Stars Blue Yonder by Sandra McDonald Page B

Kyle said, “You never talk about it. Where you grew up, or how.”
    â€œI don’t?”
    â€œYou don’t talk about much,” Kyle replied. “You say the past is the past, and there’s no use rehashing it.”
    Jodenny said, “Sometimes that’s true.”
    She went back to the living area and tried to imagine herself at age seventy. The picture wouldn’t come. After a few minutes of sitting on the comfortable sofa, she felt herself nodding off and curled around a large cushion. Her nap went undisturbed until Osherman and Myell stumbled in just before midnight.
    Osherman burped loudly. “Sorry to wake you.”
    â€œWhere have you two been?” she demanded.
    â€œAt the Pub with No Beer,” Myell said, naming one of the crew pubs on F-deck.
    They reeked of whiskey, and had the glassy-eyed stares of men on close terms with the bottoms of drinking glasses. Though she wasn’t sure they’d used glasses and not just swigged out of the bottle. Osherman was walking especially stiffly, careful with every small movement. Myell was boneless and sloppy as he flopped down on the sofa beside her.
    â€œWe’ve been talking about you.” He rested his head on a cushion and gave her a puppy-dog look. “But nothing bad.”
    Jodenny rose swiftly. “I’m so glad you had fun. I’m leaving now.”
    â€œDon’t you want to know?” Myell asked.
    Osherman, who was standing with one hand pressed to the bulkhead, said, “I’m going to break your heart, and then he’s going to die on you, and then we’re going to get married and have a daughter, and then our son’s going to die. But we want to apologize.”
    â€œFor the inconvenience,” Myell added.
    â€œYou’re both idiots,” she said, and headed for the hatch.
    â€œJo, wait.” Osherman caught her by the arm. “Say goodbye. He’s going to be leaving soon.”
    Myell nodded earnestly, then burped.
    â€œLeaving? Where’s he going?”
    â€œBlue ring,” Myell said. “Very pretty. Comes to take me away. So I can save mankind.”
    He sounded earnest enough. For a lunatic.
    â€œWhen is the blue ring coming?” Osherman asked.
    Myell waved a hand. “Tomorrow. Say, noon? Noon would be good. I need to sleep in a little. Homer, make it so!”
    Jodenny asked, “Who’s Homer?”
    Osherman shook his head.
    She leaned closer. “Can you make it stop, Sergeant?”
    â€œNope.” Myell slid sideways and burrowed into the sofa cushion. His eyes were sliding shut. “Don’t know how.”
    â€œIt’s a very peculiar thing, this time travel,” Osherman said.
    Peering closely at him, she realized he was far less drunk than he appeared. Jodenny glanced back at Myell, who was snoring loudly. She said, “You got him drunk on purpose.”
    Osherman shrugged. “Got him to talk more.”
    â€œAnything worthwhile?”
    â€œHe loves you,” Osherman replied. “Or he did, once. Before you started rejecting him at every turn.”
    â€œI’ve never even met him,” Jodenny retorted.
    â€œDo you remember Richi Miller’s party? The Ithaca Café?”
    The Ithaca Café on Porter Street had been a favorite of academy students for generations. Strong coffee, breakfast available at every hour, and when Jodenny had liberty there was always a friendly face or two to be found in the large vinyl booths. Richi was a bright guy, funny and stubborn, not the military type at all. His father the general had pressuredhim into joining. For his birthday during their last year there had just been four or five of them from political science class, a few rounds of beer, a lot of peanuts and chips.
    The most memorable part of the evening was when she and Richi slipped out to the alley for some kissing and groping, and returned flushed and smiling to their friends. If Myell was a time