Black Hull by Joseph A. Turkot

against his.
     
    So warm.
     
    “I’ll have my family. Forever. And
everyone I’ve ever known and cared for. Forever.”
    “Forever’s too long. I wouldn’t want
it.”
    “Really? Then maybe you should get back there. Because here, civilization has finally learned that the only
thing worth achieving in life is permanence. Families dedicate generations to
getting what we have now, and you’re stuck on a gap of time a thousand years
ago with a death sentence waiting at the end of it.” She withdrew her arm and
leg. “I’m going to bed. We’ll get to Carner’s Post tomorrow and unload the M
and H. Then you can make your jump.” She left the table and half her bowl of
stew.
     
    She’s walking slow. Deliberate. The
apple of her ass before me, and all the sin of man—only ask for forgiveness,
and you shall have it; wasn’t it that easy at one point in history? There are
two heavens—one here, identical to the ones people longed for in those hooky
religions, and I can have it, or the single lifespan I knew. One seems more
real than the other—should it?

16
     
    The Cozon descended upon a red-powdered
world of sickles and canes, shrouded in clouds of flashing sapphire: Carner’s
Post. A line of metal divided the sugared iron mounts. Specks of dust fell on
the crew as they exited the ship, alien snow coating the glass of their
helmets.
     
    “Unload the ore XJ,” Sera said into her
com. Mick watched her, let her lead him to a steel hangar.
     
    What kind of cut is she getting? I could
go home rich. She’ll give me just enough to cover the jump. It’d be easy enough
to kill her and take all the money—stuff her in with Emily Husson. Together
they’d make a good project for XJ and GR.
     
    Sera walked powerfully through the
hangar door. Carner’s worn leather face glanced up, then returned to his
viewscreen.
     
    “What brings your pretty ass to these
parts?” he asked. He saw Mick enter after. “Oh—who’s this?”
    “We unloaded the M and H. You good for
the market price?”
    “I wouldn’t have let you land if I
wasn’t,” he replied. “Give me your plastic.”
     
    Sera handed a slim wafer to Carner. He
stuck it into the grimy computer in front of him. A beep issued from it and he
returned it to her.
     
    “Forty thousand, check it.”
    “I will,” Sera said. She put the wafer
into a rectangular attachment on her belt, then nodded. Mick looked around:
Carner’s building wore the red shade of decay. Rotting steel reminded him of
home. The smell of coffee drove into his nostrils.
    “Can I have some?” Mick asked, spotting
a pot on a table.
    “Help yourself. Sera’s latest toy?” Mick
ignored the comment, only half-realizing it had been directed at him.
    “Okay, we’re good. Thanks,” Sera said.
“Come on Mick, get some on the ship.”
    “Let him have a cup, Sera. Tell me about
yourself, young man.” Carner said. Mick turned to the weathered man. He looked
human enough, but one of his eyes was black marble with a dot of dimly lit
pearl at its center. His clothes bore the same signs of wear as his home,
rotting together.
    “I’m a friend, a smuggler. Just
working.”
    “Work! Hah, I’ll bet! With forty
thousand UCD? You won’t be looking for work for a long time son,” Carner said.
    “It’s not my money.”
    “The hell it isn’t. She may make you
earn it, but you seem fit—up to the task.”
    “Drop it Carner,” Sera said.
    “Oh come on hon, I get lonely here. I
like the company.”
    “What the hell are you on about?” Mick
asked, growing curious. He poured his coffee down.
    “Sera is a fine young woman, but she’s
tough, so don’t think you have to be gentle with her.”
    “I’m a married man, if that’s what
you’re getting at,” Mick replied. Sera looked back to the metal runway behind
them. XJ had finished unloading and turned on the medium thrusters, awaiting
their return in the cockpit. Behind the Cozon was a bleak, sand-red horizon
ripped by blue