The Accident
Mo gazed at the framed image in her hand and traced the faces smiling back at her: Mama and Papa, relaxed and happy next to Mama’s garden. The image had sat on the fireplace mantel for several years, always drawing her eye whenever she entered the living room. When Mama had asked if she wanted to take any family mementos with her on tour, she’d instantly thought of it. But would seeing it in her quarters on the Falcon warm her, or make her homesick? For six months, the only contact she’d have with her family would be dispatches that arrived hours after they were sent. She’d never been in that situation.
A knock at the bedroom door, then Mama peered into the room. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Mo turned and slipped the image between two shirts in the open bag on the bed, then transferred the bag to the floor.
Mama sat where the bag had been. “Packing already?”
“Just a few things I don’t want to forget.”
“I can’t believe you’ll be gone in two weeks.”
Neither could she. The thirty months she’d flown domestic patrols had whipped by.
“Are you looking forward to it? You used to talk about going on tour all the time, but lately, you’ve been quiet.”
Because time was moving too quickly. She could count the number of tours until Les turned twenty-five on one hand. “I’ll miss everyone, especially you and Papa. I’ve never been away from you for that long.”
“Yes, you have. At the Indoctrination Academy.”
Mo crouched and made a pretense of fussing inside the bag to hide her face. “I saw you once a month, and you weren’t far away.”
“I’ll write to you every chance I get. I’ll record my dispatches, if you like.”
“It won’t be the same as seeing you.” Mo looked up. “Will you miss me?”
Mama tutted. “Of course I’ll miss you. Not being able to beep you whenever I feel like it will take some getting used to. You won’t be able to beep me, either. So if you want to talk to me about what’s really bothering you, you’d better do it before you leave. Now would be a good time.”
Mo sighed. Mama knew her too well. Maybe talking to her would help—it had to be better than lying awake at night, thinking the same thoughts over and over. She plunked down on the bed next to Mama. “It’s Les.”
“What about her?”
“She seems excited about the tour and everything, but . . .”
“But what?”
Mo couldn’t shake the feeling that Les was slipping away. She’d hoped that Les would want to stay together until their Chosen Papers arrived and confirmed they were Chosens, but lately she’d started to wonder if Les had other plans. Why had Les been reading Interior cases on Space Station 72? I mentioned to Finney that I would have taken more Interior courses if I’d had room in my schedule. She offered to give me some reading material, Les had explained. A perfectly logical explanation—so why did Mo have the nagging suspicion that Les hadn’t told her the whole story?
Maybe because Les hadn’t told her anything until she’d noticed an Interior file on Les’s station display and asked about it. Or maybe because Les would attend an Interior reception with Finney next week. Why would Finney take her to an Interior reception? Okay, Finney wasn’t in Defence, but she was a commander—surely she could get her hands on a couple of invitations to a Defence reception. Wouldn’t that make more sense for Les’s career? Mo figured she must be missing a piece of the puzzle—a piece Finney had. “I don’t know, Mama, I just feel as if we’re not as close as we used to be. She spends a lot of time with Commander Finney.”
Truth be told, she was jealous of Finney’s influence with Les, hated that Finney might know things about Les that she didn’t. Les was with Finney right now; who knew what they were discussing? Well, she’d soon be out of Finney’s clutches for six months. A good thing, as far as Mo was concerned.
“Lesley has ambitions,” Mama said. “Commander Finney is helping her.”
Mo stared at her lap. “I know, but . . .” But she was afraid that some airhead would end up on Les’s arm, nodding and smiling at all the receptions and telling everyone how proud she was of Admiral Thompson and how she’d supported her dream. Would she be as proud to be on Lieutenant Thompson’s arm in thirty years? Mo would. She’d be proud of Les, and respect and love her, no matter what insignia was sewn on Les’s uniform. All she’d ever wanted was to love Les, to support her, to be by her side, always. But would the Chosen Council let her? She bit her lip to stop it from trembling.
Mama slipped her arm around her. “You know, your papa and I, we’ve stayed out of it. We didn’t want to interfere. But now I can see it’s starting to hurt.” She paused. “Maybe it’s time to think about breaking up.”
“No!” Mo leaped to her feet and crossed to her desk, keeping her back to Mama. “We’re only twenty-three.”
“Mo, you don’t want to wait until you’re twenty-five. The longer you wait, the harder you’ll make it for yourself, and Lesley.”
It was already impossible. They could break up tomorrow and it wouldn’t make a difference; she’d always long for Les. Oh, she’d do her duty and Join with her Chosen, but she’d never love her. She’d struggle to not resent her, despite knowing it wasn’t the poor woman’s fault. No, Les had to be her Chosen. Too many lives would be ruined if she wasn’t. “Mama, let me deal with this in my own time.” Mo turned to face her. “I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not ready yet.”
“I’m not suggesting that you break up right now, not when you’re about to go on tour with her. But you have to start thinking about it, for your sake and hers.” Mama pursed her lips. “Maybe you can transfer to another ship after this tour. You’ll be almost twenty-four at that point. It’ll be rough, but you’ll have at least a year to come to terms with it before your Papers arrive.” She wagged a finger. “You definitely don’t want to wait until Papers force you into it. It wouldn’t be fair to your Chosen.”
But Les is my Chosen. Saying that to Mama would probably alarm her. “I don’t know.”
Mama frowned. “At least promise me you’ll think about it while you’re away. It’ll ease my mind.”
Mo felt a pang of guilt; she’d had no idea that Mama was worried. “I will,” she said, the desire to reassure winning out over honesty. She’d never break up with Les—not unless she had to.
“Your papa and I will always be here for you,” Mama said, rising. She pulled Mo into a hug. “You can lean on us. We know how hard it’ll be . . . when you decide it’s time.”