Page 21 of Solomon's Ransom
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“I might not beable to come see you tomorrow,” he told Sol. “We’ve got a job.”
“A job? I guess you won’t tell me any details.”
“Won’t, can’t,” Remma said. “It’s not very interesting. But I’ll be busy, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to take before I’m free again.”
“Hmm.” Sol’s gaze searched Remma’s face, bright with curiosity. He was sitting on the bed facing Remma, cross-legged, hands loose in his lap. “So is this what you do? Find people to rob, take their shit, and sell it?”
“How’s it all that different from whatyoudo? We’re both profiting from someone else’s misfortune.”
“It’s really not the same at all. Scrappers just take what we find. We don’t go out actively looking for people to relieve of their valuables.”
“I can’t believe we’re having a conversation about the ethics of scavenging,” Remma said. “Is this really what you want to be doing with me?”
“I’m starved for conversation,” Sol said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I would happily talk about something even more boring. Like, um. How the oxygen recyclers on this ship work.”
“I know exactly how they work, and trust me, you don’t want to hear about it.” Unable to resist, Remma raised a hand and brushed his fingers over Sol’s cheek. “What would you do if you quit scrapping? Do you ever think about it?”
“What, like move planetside?”
“Maybe. Would you want to?”
Sol shrugged. “No. I like it moonside. Scrapping’s a decent life. What would I do on Mirolasor? I don’t want to work in some factory, always being told what to do.”
“There’s more than just Mirolasor. And more than just factories.”
“Not for someone like me. I’m not educated past what I could learn from vids, and I wasn’t motivated to learn much beyond the basics. Why bother, when I knew I wouldn’t use it? I needed to know how to shoot a gun and how to evaluate scrap for value. I didn’t need to learn advanced mathematics.”
“Not even for your own edification?”
“I don’t know what that means,” Sol said primly, which probably wasn’t even true. “Is that what you learned on Tozra? Fancy math?”
“I learned a lot of things. Math, astronomy. How to sing. How to build a boat.”
“Build? There must be a lot of water on Tozra.”
“You could say that,” Remma said, thinking of the vast seas of his homeworld, the calm waters dotted with islands and teeming with pods of females and their young. He hadn’t been back to Tozra in close to fifteen years and he missed it. Maybe it was time for a trip back.
If Denna would give him leave. That seemed unlikely. Denna would let them go stationside when they stopped somewhere, but he didn’t permit vacations. He liked to keep his crew close at hand, well supervised. He was more suspicious than anyone else Remma had ever known.
And yet he wasn’t interfering with Remma’s visits to Sol. He knew about them, surely. The guards would give him full reports of whatever happened during their shifts. Denna hadn’t said anything to Remma about it, though, which gave Remma a sense of a storm about to lower, or a rogue wave ready to capsize him. Whatever Denna’s end goal was, Remma doubted he, Remma, was shrewd enough to outmaneuver him.
Still, even knowing that trouble was coming, he couldn’t bring himself to stop his visits. What was the worst that could happen? Sol’s death, and he’d managed to put that off so far. Denna could kick him off the crew, but that might not even be a bad thing. Maybe he was starting to be ready to leave. Maybe his year on Mirolasor’s nameless moon had given him a taste of what else he could have in life. Now he was back home, with friends and familiar comrades, and it all seemed hollow compared to the warmth of his time with Sol.
That was a bad sign. He shouldn’t be thinking about Sol that way, not when Sol didn’t trust him anymore. It didn’t matter what Remma daydreamed about, in a half unconscious way, when Sol wouldn’t want those same things. Best to set all of that aside.
“Tell me about Tozra,” Sol said, desperate enough for conversation and company that he would accept even Remma.
Remma settled into a more comfortable position, giving up on the idea of sex for now. “What would you like to hear?”
“Everything,” Sol said.
* * *
After Remma left,Sol lay on the bed for a few minutes, debating with himself. He had enjoyed Remma’s visit, but he was already on to the next thing, the secret project he couldn’t stop thinking about.
He didn’t hear any noises through the door. He never did, though; not conversation, not footsteps. The soundproofing was too good. That was to his benefit, he knew, but it also made it hard to get a sense of what was happening outside his room. As he’d learned, anyone could come in at any time with no warning. Every time the guards brought food it surprised him. He hadn’t been caught doing anything untoward, except by Remma—yet. He had a feeling it was only a matter of time.