James Gardner: Vigilant

Festina and I stepped out the front doors of the hospital, into a bright spring morning. The snow was gone; the trees were beginning to bud. "Gorgeous day," I said, spreading my arms wide in the sunshine. There was only the skimpiest twitch of pain in my shoulder — it’d soon be as good as new, curvy enough to attract Oolom lechers and strong enough to shove them away. "Want to wander down to the park?" I asked Festina. "They’ve got a nice little petting zoo."

"Aren’t your family coming to pick you up?"

"I asked them not to."

She looked at me with those sharp green eyes. "Okay. Let’s walk."

Cabot Park wasn’t very far off; Bonaventure is so small, nothing is very far off. Soon we were leaning against a tree, watching a leaner lean against the damaged wall of Pump Station 3.

I said, "So. Do you want to get married?"

Festina turned to me, mouth dropped open. She gaped for a count of three, then pulled herself together. "Aren’t you supposed to get down on one knee to say that?"

"Maybe on your home planet," I told her. "On Demoth, it’s usually more like rolling over in bed and propping yourself up on one elbow. Hey, you want to get married or what?"

She laughed, then looked at me keenly. "Are you serious about this, Faye?"

"Lynn sneaked into the hospital a few nights this week," I said. "We’ve talked it over, and she thinks it could work."

"So you can just add people to the group whenever you feel like it?"

"More or less. The others usually let me have what I want. Though Barrett won’t say yes unless you like dogs."

"Bloody hell," she muttered. "You are serious."

"Absolutely." I reached out and took her hand. "Sure, it’s complicated. And you don’t know bugger-all about my spouses, or the kids, or what marriage means on Demoth… any of that. But here’s the thing: I think you need a family, and I’m offering mine. All of them are good people, and you’ll have plenty of time to get to know them…"

"Faye," she interrupted. Just my name; and I could feel the no hanging heavy in her voice. "I have to go back to work. I have to leave Demoth."

"I know," I answered. "But does it need to be right away? The galaxy can get along without you a little while longer."

"Then I’d just be leading you on. A few laughs, then off I go."

"Festina," I said, "I’ll be all right. I’ve got a family. I may have a case of the wistfuls for a while, but I’ll bear up. You’re the one who’ll be heading out alone. And you’re going to feel it."

She lowered her eyes. "I know, Faye. I know. But I have to go back to my job. For the past two years, I’ve been spinning my wheels — trying to fit into my predecessor’s shoes, playing the desk-job spymaster. If there’s one thing I’ve learned on Demoth, that’s not who I am." She gave a rueful smile. "I like getting my hands dirty. I like digging truths out of mysteries. God help me, I like exploring… which is as far as you can get from being an Explorer, but that’s where I am now."

"And with all that exploring," I said, "you’ll never come back to Demoth?"

"Faye." And this time, that one word meant yes, not no.

I pulled a package out of my coat pocket. "A going-away present," I said.

Festina looked embarrassed. "You knew I’d say no?"

"If you said yes, it would have been an engagement present." I pushed it into her hands. "Here."

"Where’d you get this?"

"From Lynn, last night. Open it."

Thank God, Lynn had been the one to wrap it. She always does a beautiful job. Me, I never have the patience. All energy, no finesse, our Faye.

Festina opened the wrapper, then the box. There, tucked up in tissue paper, was a clear glass bottle holding a water-owl egg. "From Lake Vascho," I told her. "The family went there for a picnic yesterday, so they could all say they helped get you the gift. In case you said yes. The other eggs were hatched and gone, but that one never opened. It happens sometimes." I took a deep breath. "So there you go. I’m giving you a dud egg."

She wrapped her arms softly around my neck and just held me. A tear trickled down her cheek.

Sometime, when she got back to the navy base or maybe up to her flagship, she’d take the bottle out of the box and find the other present I’d asked Lynn to hide in the tissue paper: my scalpel, retrieved by the cops from the dipshits’ skimmer, quietly passed by Cheticamp back to my family.

The egg was a gift from my other spouses; the knife was a gift from me. A sign/promise/oath that I was past needing it.

I’d wrapped the blade in tape so Festina wouldn’t cut herself when she found it. That knife had drawn enough blood in its time.

Its time was over. And the past, after all, was past.

Copyright © 1999 by James Alan Gardner

ISBN: 0-380-80208-2