What Kate Found in the Fringe

by Nemo West

Table of Contents, parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

part 1

“The usual?” John whispered as he passed by with the leftover roast.

Kate scanned the room to make sure no one else was within earshot. “Ten minutes,” she answered while stacking finished plates from their parents’ dining room table.

Soon the two of them huddled against crisp autumn air beside the garage as tawny oaks and maples melted into the spreading ink of evening. John pulled a smuggled flask from his cardigan and Kate fished a pair of cigarettes from her purse. The muted clank and clatter of dishes being washed in the kitchen punctuated the squeals of their nieces and nephews stampeding through the halls inside.

“So, what did you tell Mom this time?” John asked, passing the bourbon to his sister as he accepted a cigarette.

“That he turned out to be a cartel informant. Assassinated in cold blood. Terrible thing,” Kate tutted with mock sincerity. “So sorry he couldn’t make it.”

John laughed between drags. “You did not.”

“She doesn’t even pay attention to my excuses anymore. When I walked in the door this year, she actually squeezed my fingers through my glove trying to feel for a ring.” She grimaced. “What about you; what excuse did you give?”

John arched his brow. “Weren’t things getting serious with you and the drummer?”

Kate shrugged through a swig. “They were.” She passed the flask back to her brother. “That’s why I dumped him.”

“I thought you really liked him. You two seemed happy together.”

Kate sighed. “He wanted what Mom wants: for me to” — she made a sour face — “settle.”

Instead of offering his usual support, John took a sip and passed the flask. “To be fair, settling down isn’t the same thing as settling.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “You’ve been listening to Mom too much.” She raised the flask. “Here’s to the last two unhitched Carters; may we continue to disappoint our parents.”

John accepted the bourbon when she passed it back, but he didn’t drink to her toast. “About that,” he mumbled.

Kate froze, her cigarette halfway to her lips. “Oh, Johnny...”

He offered a bashful shrug. “I couldn’t hold out forever. Mala’s great. We’re in love. I just got a big promotion at work. It’s time, you know? I’m ready to” — he glanced toward their parents’ house, packed for the holiday with three generations of Carters — “I’m ready to grow up.”

Kate took a long drag. “Well, congratulations.” Then she vented a draconic exhale. “And go to hell.”

“Come on, I didn’t mean that as a knock against you.”

“But you said it that way.”

“I did not.” His attempt at a conciliatory smile mirrored too much of their mother’s plaintive impatience.

Kate scowled. “If growing up means turning into one of them” — she nodded toward the house — “then I’m not a grownup?”

“Fair enough.” John raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry.” After another pull from the flask, he asked, “So, you really called it quits with the drummer?”

Kate shrugged. “Had to.”

“Because he wanted to get serious?”

She flicked ash over the dormant begonias. “Him wanting to get serious really just made it easier for me to decide something else.”

John raised an eyebrow. “And what was that?”

She eyed her brother steadily. “I’m going away for a while.”

“Where?”

Her gaze turned toward the stars seeping across the sky in the wake of a pale burgundy sunset. Terraformed centuries prior, her homeworld of Mars had long since become a mature, densely settled colony. Where pioneers had once braved its arid sands, retirees now sought its sunny, red beaches.

John kept his eyes on her. “Off-world again?”

Kate nodded.

“Going to finish grad school?”

She shook her head.

“Another tour with one of the Service Corps?”

“Not quite.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Then what?”

She took a pull from the flask. “I saw a recruitment ad that caught my attention. Applied on a whim. Wasn’t really sure what would come of it.” She shrugged. “They accepted me.”

Concern tightened the corners of John’s eyes. “What’s the gig?”

“Evaluation of a precious metal report on a first-gen colony.”

“On a first-gen? Come on, Kate. Everybody knows noob homesteaders make bogus claims like that all the time, anything to solicit investments and attract settlers.”

She shrugged. “You think I care if the claim is bogus? I get paid for my time, regardless of what the expedition finds.”

“Well, it’s good to know my little sister hasn’t turned gullible in her spinsterhood.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Thanks, conformist.”

“So, it’s a survey expedition. What job did they hire you for?”

“They wanted a couple of people with some form of higher education to work as administrative assistants for the surveyors and mineralogists. The job description was basically: read, write, file, and follow orders.” She made a mock salute. “I think I can handle that.”

John smirked. “A truly worthy use of two degrees.”

“Two and a half degrees,” Kate corrected.

“Right. I almost forgot. Hey, you know, half a graduate degree is like half a hammer; neither one can be used for its intended purpose.”

“Wow. Not even married yet and already making dad jokes. I’m so disappointed in you, Johnathan.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned. “So, tell me about this colony.”

“From what the interviewer told me, some colonial trust out of Ganymede bought the settlement rights over a century ago. They started one of those low-rent terraforming programs that gradually filters the atmosphere and seed-bombs the soil over several decades. The first settlers didn’t even make landfall till about twenty years ago.”

John sipped the bourbon. “Where’s the system?”

“Four years ago, the colony contracted with one of those settlement corporations to speed up development.”

John shook his head. “Already sold out to one of those rackets, huh? They’ll get bilked into bankruptcy before they know it.” He passed the flask back to his sister. “Where’s the system?”

“The settlement corporation leased the mineral rights to a mining outfit, pending the results of this expedition. The mining company posted the ad. I responded. And here we are.” She sipped the flask.

John stepped directly in front of her. “Katie,” he said firmly, “where’s the system?”

Kate returned the flask and took a long drag before replying. “Out in the Fringe.”

The look of helpless disappointment on her brother’s face perfectly matched their mother’s. Kate knew that expression well. It ran in the family. “You’d better be kidding,” John said.

Kate responded with a faint shrug, “I leave in two weeks.”

* * *

“Well, this is a charming little nightmare,” said a raffish young man in a beige turtleneck.

Behind him, a crowded hangar swarmed with activity. Every two hours, another shuttle departed, ferrying supplies to the chartered long-distance transport waiting in geosynchronous orbit. Terse, sweating dockhands scurried behind overburdened loaders, packing the shuttles on a tight schedule. Amid the rumble and clatter, expedition officers struggled to organize several hundred personnel.

“Cozy, isn’t it?” Kate replied. Moments ago, a weary officer had escorted this young man to where Kate had been posted hours earlier, beside a stack of administrative supplies in a cramped corner.

“If my orientation packet was accurate, then I’m guessing you’re my fellow admin assistant. Kate, right?”

“And you must be Quince?”

He made an affirmative nod. Then he wrinkled his nose. “And I’m guessing that overwhelming smell of livestock is from the camels?”

Kate nodded. “The last of the herd went up on the most recent shuttle, so believe it or not the smell is actually getting better.”

“I guess we’ll all be getting used to it soon enough,” Quince said as he squeezed in beside her among the crates. “Impressive foresight though, bringing camels. High endurance. Sturdy in rugged terrain. And, of course, if things get dicey out there, we can always eat them.”

Kate grimaced. “I’ve been trying not to think about that.”

“Me too. Ever eaten camel before?”

She shook her head.

“Same here,” he said as he disentangled himself from an overstuffed backpack. “Let’s hope it stays that way.” Then he unzipped his bag and reached inside. “Although, I have to say the camels really clash with the whole conquistador image I was envisioning for the expedition when I bought this.” With a flourish, he produced a replica of a Spanish morion helmet. A tall fin ran the length of its dome like a steel mohawk haircut. He perched the shiny anachronism atop his head.

Dumbfounded, Kate couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cringe, although a certain part of her also couldn’t help admiring such confident audacity.

“What do you think?” Quince asked. “Regal and dashing? Or too sixteenth century?”

Kate eyed her new partner. He was about her age and had that rough-around-the-edges quality she’d always found intensely appealing, even though his angular build seemed perpetually awkward, like a slapdash marionette with ill-portioned joints “Um, that’s... really... something,” she managed to reply.

“Wow, almost as disapproving as my mother.”

Kate stiffened. “Oh! Wait, no, I didn’t mean to—”

Quince stopped her with a wave. “Don’t apologize. I always make a strange impression with new people. You see, I’m not normal.” He offered a self-deprecating smirk. “That’s my delightful little burden to bear. But I’m mostly harmless and, after sufficient exposure, most people seem to find me tolerable company.” He raised a cautious eyebrow. “Willing to give me a chance?”

Kate relaxed and offered an amiable grin, but before she could reply, a coarse voice interrupted them. “What the hell is that?” They both turned to see a man with a formidable build and menacing demeanor glaring at Quince’s helmet.

Quince visibly shrunk. “Just a touch of expeditionary panache,” he mumbled.

Hostile eyes flicked over Quince. That momentary glimpse returned a sour verdict. “Get rid of it!” the scowling newcomer ordered.

Quince seemed crestfallen. “But I spent hours writing custom code for a forge-bot to fabricate this.”

“It draws attention.” the newcomer growled. “Get rid of it.”

Quince squirmed, prompting Kate to intervene. “Who are you to be giving him orders?” she demanded, feeling unexpectedly protective of her new partner.

The newcomer turned hard eyes to Kate. “I’m Captain Bucknam, head of security.”

“Well, we’re the administrative assistants and we report to the Chief Surveyor, Patricia Gelson.”

“And she reports to me.”

Kate narrowed her eyes. “The Chief Surveyor of a survey expedition reports to the head of security?”

Bucknam’s expression darkened. “Everyone in this expedition reports to me. We’re going to the Fringe, the very edge of Colonial space. Out there, everything depends on security.” He patted an ominous sidearm holstered at his hip. “So, when I give you an order” — he paused to loom over Quince — “your life depends on obeying it.”

“I understand.” Quince hurriedly removed the helmet and jammed it back into his bag. “There. It’s gone.”

Mollified by that display of obedience, Bucknam nodded. “Just keep your head down,” he said before vanishing back into the crowded hangar

With Bucknam’s departure, Quince let out a shaky exhale.

“You okay?” Kate asked.

Quince slumped against the crates. “Yeah.”

Kate furrowed her brow. “Seemed like that guy really got to you.”

Quince squirmed slightly. “He... just seems like someone I don’t want to antagonize.”

“He definitely came off as a thug. Which is a good thing, I guess, if he’s supposed to be keeping us safe for the next year.”

Quince’s gaze sank to the floor. “I guess so.”

A somewhat awkward silence followed, prompting Kate to pull out a pair of cigarettes and offer one to Quince, along with a consoling smile. He accepted and they traded a lighter. After a few minutes, he seemed to relax, and they exchanged a little more introductory small talk before being called onto a shuttle that soon whisked them up to the waiting transport. Later that evening, the vessel broke orbit and the expedition was underway.

* * *

Proceed to part 2...

Copyright © 2021 by Nemo West