Anna drank her milk slowly, savoring the rich texture and ridiculous luxury of it. A bell chimed on someone’s hand terminal, and two of the civilian workers got up and left. One stayed, a beautiful but sad-faced woman who looked down at a terminal on the table with a vacant, thousand-yard stare.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” said a voice behind her, almost making Anna jump out of her chair. A young man in a naval officer’s uniform moved into her field of view and gestured awkwardly at the chair next to her. “Mind if I sit?”
Anna recovered enough to smile at him, and he took it as assent, stiffly folding himself into the seat. He was very tall for an Earther, with short blond hair and the thick shoulders and narrow waist all of the young officers seemed to have regardless of gender.
Anna reached across the table to shake his hand and said, “Anna Volovodov.”
“Chris Williams,” the young officer replied, giving her hand a short but firm shake. “And yes, ma’am, I know who you are.”
“You do?”
“Yes, ma’am. My people in Minnesota are Methodists, going back as far as we can trace them. When I saw you listed on the civilian roster, I made sure to remember the name.”
Anna nodded and sipped her milk. If the boy had singled her out because she was a minister of his faith, then he wanted to talk to her as a member of the congregation. She mentally shifted gears to become Pastor Anna and said, “What can I do for you, Chris?”
“Love your accent, ma’am,” Chris replied. He needed time to build up to whatever it was that he’d approached her about, so Anna gave it to him.
“I grew up in Moscow,” she replied. “Though after two years on Europa I can almost do Belter now, sa sa?”
Chris laughed, some of the tension draining out of his face. “That’s not bad, ma’am. But you get those guys going at full speed, I can’t understand a word the skinnies say.”
Anna chose to ignore the slur. “Please, no more ‘ma’am.’ Makes me feel a hundred years old. Anna, please, or Pastor Anna if you have to.”
“All right,” Chris said. “Pastor Anna.”
They sat together in companionable silence for a few moments while Anna watched Chris work up to whatever he needed to say.
“You heard the alarm, right?” he finally said. “Bet it woke you up.”
“It’s why I’m here,” Anna replied.
“Yeah. Action stations. It’s because of the dusters— I mean, Martians, you know.”
“Martians?” Anna found herself wanting another glass of the delicious milk, but thought it might distract Chris, so she didn’t wave at the waiter.
“We’re in weapons range of their fleet now,” he said. “So we go on alert. We can’t share sky with the dusters anymore without going on alert. Not since, you know, Ganymede.”
Anna nodded and waited for him to continue.
“And that Ring, you know, it’s already killed somebody. I mean, just a dumb as sand skinny slingshotter, but still. Somebody.”
Anna took his hand. He flinched a bit, but relaxed when she smiled at him. “That scares you?”
“Sure. Of course. But that ain’t it.”
Anna waited, keeping her face carefully neutral. The pretty civilian girl across the room got up suddenly, as though leaving. Her lips moved, talking to herself, then she sat back down, put her arms on the table, and leaned her head on them. Someone else scared, waiting out the long watches of the night, all alone in a room full of people.
“I mean,” Chris said, breaking into her reverie, “that ain’t all of it anyway.”
“What else?” Anna said.
“The Ring didn’t put us on alert,” he said. “It’s the Martians. Even with that thing out there, we’re still thinking about shooting each other. That’s pretty f**ked up. Sorry. Messed up.”
“It seems like we should be able to see past our human differences when we’re confronted with something like this, doesn’t it?”
Chris nodded and squeezed her hand tighter, but said nothing.
“Chris, would you like to pray with me?”
He nodded and lowered his head, closing his eyes. When she’d finished, he said, “I know I’m not the only Methodist on the ship. Do you, you know, hold services?”
I do now.
“Sunday, at 10 a.m., in conference room 41,” she said, making a mental note to ask someone if she could use conference room 41 on Sunday mornings.
“I’ll see if I can get the time off,” Chris said with a smile. “Thank you, ma’am. Pastor Anna.”
“It was nice talking to you, Chris.” You just gave me a reason to be here.
When Chris left, Anna found herself very tired, ready to return to her bed, but the pretty girl across the room hadn’t moved. Her head was still buried in her arms. Anna walked over to her and gently touched her on the shoulder. The girl’s head jerked up, her eyes wild, almost panicked.
“Hi,” Anna said. “I’m Anna. What’s your name?”
The girl stared up, as if the question were a difficult one. Anna sat down across from her.
“I saw you sitting here,” Anna said. “It looked like you could use some company. It’s okay to be afraid. I understand.”
The girl jerked to her feet like a malfunctioning machine. Her eyes were flat, and her head tilted a degree. Anna felt suddenly afraid. It was like she’d gone to pet a dog and found herself with her hand on a lion. Something in the back of her head told her, This is a bad one. This one will hurt you.
“I’m sorry,” Anna said, standing up with her hands half raised. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You don’t know me,” the girl replied. “You don’t know anything.” Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, the tendons in her neck quivering like plucked guitar strings.
“You’re right,” Anna said, still backing up and patting the air with her hands. “I apologize.”
Other people in the room were staring at them now, and Anna felt a surge of relief that she wasn’t alone with the girl. The girl stared at her, trembling, for a few more seconds, then darted out of the room.
“What the f**k was that all about?” someone behind Anna said in a quiet voice.
Maybe the girl had woken up from a nightmare too, Anna thought. Or maybe she hadn’t.
Chapter Thirteen: Bull
A