Free The Stars Down Under by Sandra McDonald Page B

you.”
    â€œAfternoon, Chief,” Tingley said, in a very soft voice.
    â€œSpeak up, Tingley,” Myell told her. “I don’t bite.”
    â€œMy vocal cords just aren’t very big,” Tingley said, ducking her head.
    Romero asked, “Is it true, Chief? You went and punched Senior Chief Talic?”
    Myell didn’t touch the bruise that he could feel by his eye. “Never you mind. What are you studying back here?”
    â€œData flow,” she said.
    â€œLouder, Tingley. They’ll never hear you in the fleet.”
    â€œData flow, Chief!” Tingley said, belting the words out. But then her face screwed up. “It’s a makeup exam. If I don’t pass it, I can’t graduate.”
    â€œI told you,” Romero said, “you’re going to pass. We’re both going to the Kamchatka. Who cares if Senior Chief Talic calls it a rust bucket?”
    The bravado in Romero’s voice was a far cry from the uncertainty he’d shown Myell the other day, but love could do that to a person. As for the Kamchatka, it was true that it wasn’t very exciting duty, but someone had to do it.
    â€œTell you what,” Myell said. “Let’s concentrate on data flow, and worry about graduation later. If you want to go to the stars, AT Tingley, don’t let anyone tell you you can’t. Is that clear?”
    She grinned. “Yes, Chief.”
    Romero nudged her. “Told you he’s not like the other chiefs.”
    â€œSo they say,” Myell said.
    *   *   *
    Jodenny slept in later than she expected. Myell had left her a note on the kitchen counter. “Love you,” he’d written. She went for a nice five-kilometer run through housing with the paper folded inside her bra. At the top of Admiral’s Hill, she jogged in place with the whole of Kimberley spread out before her. Her city, her home planet. She knew nothing of the missing scientists, where they’d come from, not even their names, but she could have grown up with one of them in the North Prosper orphanage, or passed them in the street, or known their siblings or met their children.
    Love you, Myell had said. Nothing else.
    And what if that crocodile he’d seen in their kitchen was a sign she couldn’t ignore? That she should do what she could, do her duty, do her best.
    Back at home, she called Anna Gayle on a secure channel.
    â€œI’ll help you at Bainbridge,” she said. “Just to call the token. Nothing more.”
    â€œExcellent!” Gayle said. “Let’s get you in for a medical screen and briefing. Civilian clothes, please. The less attention, the better. Will your husband be joining us?”
    â€œNo.”
    She spent several hours in Gayle’s lab, donating tissue and blood samples, signing additional security clearances. Admiral Mizoguchi’s office was contacted and asked to excuse her from work the following day. Permission was granted. Jodenny had no idea what kind of budget Gayle had to work with, but Team Space didn’t seem to be skimping on workspace, manpower, or other resources.
    Toledo and Farber were in charge of securing the Bainbridge Spheres from visitors. The monuments sat on a national park, not Team Space property.
    â€œJust can’t block them off without warning,” Toledo said, rolling his large shoulders under his too-tight shirt. He dwarfed the chair he was sitting in. “Tourists get mad. And then they complain, and the gadfly press gets wind of it, and we don’t need that kind of publicity.”
    â€œHow will you do it, then?” Jodenny asked.
    Farber didn’t look up from her gib. “We’re pretending to be filming a vid for a new virtual-reality game. Hush-hush, trade secrets, closed set.”
    â€œDo you know any of the missing team?” Jodenny asked.
    â€œGood men and women.” Toledo was snacking from a bowl of jellybeans on the conference