room, with massive glass windows that looked out onto the trees.
He turned it down. Darnell had nearly destroyed Outer Earth and Prakesh didn’t feel like occupying the man’s old space. The office is now the most well-appointed storeroom on the station, which suits Prakesh just fine.
He doesn’t need much space to work, anyway. He glances across the three tab screens on his desk: monorail shipping manifests that need signing off, fertiliser test results, a message from a tech asking him to resolve a work dispute. He picks up the test results first. If he can power through all this, he can go home, forget this day ever—
“Anybody home?” Suki says, sticking her head around the door. A frizz of red hair tickles her cheek. “We’re going for drinks. All of us. That includes you, ’Kesh.”
“I don’t feel much like Pilot’s,” Prakesh says, thinking of the grimy bar in the station dock.
“Who said anything about Pilot’s?” Suki says. “My brother’s got these watermelons, right? He’s been soaking them in homebrew for like a week.”
Prakesh smiles. “You go on ahead. I might see you down there later.”
He looks down, intending to get back to the test results, half of his mind already thinking about the dispute message. He looks up when he hears Suki crossing to his desk.
She perches on the end. She’s one of the only techs – scratch that, one of the only people on the whole station – that he’s ever seen wearing a skirt. It peeks out from the bottom of her lab coat, over black leggings. He can smell the soil on her as she leans in.
“You did good, boss,” she says.
“Benson – is he—”
“Already took care of it. He’s on suicide watch, and the psych docs are on it. He won’t be back until they give him a clean bill.”
He smiles thanks. “Good job with the Mark Six, too.”
“How did you know that was going to work?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t, really.”
She smacks his shoulder, then hops off the desk. “Be downstairs in ten, or I’ll come and drag you out of here.”
“I’m really OK.”
“No way. You need a drink.”
“I said no , Suki.”
He doesn’t mean for it to be harsh. But he can’t control it – his tone just changes, dropping his voice low. He’s instantly sorry, furious with himself.
But the last thing he wants to do is go and socialise, and Suki’s closeness, the smell of her, has just made him think of Riley.
Suki looks like she’s been slapped, but only for a second. She composes herself, a neutral expression sliding back into place. “Well,” she says. “I guess I’ll see you later, then. You should bring Riley by sometime.”
Her last sentence is said without enthusiasm, more of a reflex than anything else. The door clicks shut behind her.
Prakesh turns back to his tab screens, but finds he can’t concentrate. He sits back, rubbing his eyes.
He’ll never get used to Riley as a cop. Every time she suits up, it’s like she becomes a different person. She moves with purpose, like the last six months haven’t happened, and there’s a look in her eyes every time she heads off to work. Like she can’t wait to get out there, can’t wait to move .
But when the jumpsuit comes off, she changes. Everything that’s happened to her – her dad, Janice Okwembu, Amira – all comes rushing back. She’s quiet at home, her mind off somewhere else. Prakesh has done his best, tried to fill her world with colour and love and as much good conversation as he can, but it’s never enough.
And going home at the end of the day has lost its spark.
For the hundredth time, he bites back on his frustration. He tells himself to ease up. She just needs time. He shuts off his tab screens, one after the other. They can wait. He’s going home, and he’s going to see Riley.
He leaves the office, snapping the door closed behind him. As he walks down the passage, he wonders idly what she’s doing at this moment.
16
Riley
I’m stuck in the nightmare
He turned it down. Darnell had nearly destroyed Outer Earth and Prakesh didn’t feel like occupying the man’s old space. The office is now the most well-appointed storeroom on the station, which suits Prakesh just fine.
He doesn’t need much space to work, anyway. He glances across the three tab screens on his desk: monorail shipping manifests that need signing off, fertiliser test results, a message from a tech asking him to resolve a work dispute. He picks up the test results first. If he can power through all this, he can go home, forget this day ever—
“Anybody home?” Suki says, sticking her head around the door. A frizz of red hair tickles her cheek. “We’re going for drinks. All of us. That includes you, ’Kesh.”
“I don’t feel much like Pilot’s,” Prakesh says, thinking of the grimy bar in the station dock.
“Who said anything about Pilot’s?” Suki says. “My brother’s got these watermelons, right? He’s been soaking them in homebrew for like a week.”
Prakesh smiles. “You go on ahead. I might see you down there later.”
He looks down, intending to get back to the test results, half of his mind already thinking about the dispute message. He looks up when he hears Suki crossing to his desk.
She perches on the end. She’s one of the only techs – scratch that, one of the only people on the whole station – that he’s ever seen wearing a skirt. It peeks out from the bottom of her lab coat, over black leggings. He can smell the soil on her as she leans in.
“You did good, boss,” she says.
“Benson – is he—”
“Already took care of it. He’s on suicide watch, and the psych docs are on it. He won’t be back until they give him a clean bill.”
He smiles thanks. “Good job with the Mark Six, too.”
“How did you know that was going to work?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t, really.”
She smacks his shoulder, then hops off the desk. “Be downstairs in ten, or I’ll come and drag you out of here.”
“I’m really OK.”
“No way. You need a drink.”
“I said no , Suki.”
He doesn’t mean for it to be harsh. But he can’t control it – his tone just changes, dropping his voice low. He’s instantly sorry, furious with himself.
But the last thing he wants to do is go and socialise, and Suki’s closeness, the smell of her, has just made him think of Riley.
Suki looks like she’s been slapped, but only for a second. She composes herself, a neutral expression sliding back into place. “Well,” she says. “I guess I’ll see you later, then. You should bring Riley by sometime.”
Her last sentence is said without enthusiasm, more of a reflex than anything else. The door clicks shut behind her.
Prakesh turns back to his tab screens, but finds he can’t concentrate. He sits back, rubbing his eyes.
He’ll never get used to Riley as a cop. Every time she suits up, it’s like she becomes a different person. She moves with purpose, like the last six months haven’t happened, and there’s a look in her eyes every time she heads off to work. Like she can’t wait to get out there, can’t wait to move .
But when the jumpsuit comes off, she changes. Everything that’s happened to her – her dad, Janice Okwembu, Amira – all comes rushing back. She’s quiet at home, her mind off somewhere else. Prakesh has done his best, tried to fill her world with colour and love and as much good conversation as he can, but it’s never enough.
And going home at the end of the day has lost its spark.
For the hundredth time, he bites back on his frustration. He tells himself to ease up. She just needs time. He shuts off his tab screens, one after the other. They can wait. He’s going home, and he’s going to see Riley.
He leaves the office, snapping the door closed behind him. As he walks down the passage, he wonders idly what she’s doing at this moment.
16
Riley
I’m stuck in the nightmare
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