Vessel

34

ONCE HE WAS sure she was okay, Cal left Catherine in her room while he got settled in his. She showered, washing away desert dust along with the feeling of being helpless and trapped. Someone believed her, she wasn’t losing her mind, and now, knowing the past, she was ready to move forward.

They wound up in a roadside diner for dinner. While they were waiting for their food, Catherine said, “Why does everything out here look like it was decorated about fifty or sixty years ago?”

“The Atomic Age,” Cal said. “It’s a side effect no one talks about—all the tests out here; the radiation froze everyone’s aesthetic in time.”

“Ahhh,” Catherine said, nodding with equal seriousness. “That makes sense. Given our motel rooms, I can see why the government wanted to hush that bit up.”

“Shh. Someone might be listening.” Cal cut his eyes left and right dramatically.

That was a little too much like Iris, and Catherine felt her grin faltering. “Yeah, you never know.” She toyed with the water glass.

“Shit. Too soon, huh?”

“Little bit.” Then she managed a smile. “Maybe give it another hour or two before we start joking about paranoia and eavesdropping.”

“Deal.”

They were rescued by dinner—or, in Catherine’s case, breakfast in the form of a western omelet. By silent agreement, they didn’t talk about their afternoon, but instead exchanged childhood stories.

As they were paying the check, Cal said, “Where to? You wanna turn in?”

“Don’t imagine there’s much nightlife out here.”

“It’s a desert. It’s full of nightlife.” He held the door for her as they left the diner. “Let’s go pick one of these side roads and see where it goes.”

“Cal, we’ve been in the car all day; are you really saying you want to go for a drive?” She couldn’t help but smile.

“No, I wanna find somewhere to drive to.”

A short time later, Cal turned onto a side road that wasn’t more than a flat spot of dirt. They’d left every trace of civilization behind, aside from a few power lines they’d passed.

“If you get us lost in the desert in the middle of the night…” Catherine started.

“Nah, I was a Boy Scout. I can navigate by the stars.” Cal pulled the car off the dirt road. “And speaking of the stars, c’mon.” He climbed out of the driver’s seat, went to the trunk, and pulled out the bedspread stolen from his motel room.

Catherine laughed as she got out. “You planned this?”

“Hell, yes,” Cal said. “If you didn’t wanna come, I was going to drop you off and come back out here. You think I want to miss this view? Look up.”

She tipped her head to the sky while he laid the bedspread out about twenty feet from the car. A sense of panic threatened to wash over her as she stared up into the vastness above, full of stars brighter than any she’d see in the city, nebulas and the Milky Way visible to the naked eye. Her heart hammered in her chest and she reached out to rest a hand against the warm metal of the car hood to anchor herself. There was dirt beneath her feet, atmosphere around her. Home. She was home.

“Catherine? You okay?”

Catherine drew a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. It just”—she gestured above—“looks a hell of a lot like the view I used to get from Sagittarius.”

“Aw shit. I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought that would be part of the appeal.” He came over and ushered her to the impromptu seating area.

“It is—now that I’m ready for it.”

She sat down, leaning back on her hands. In the distance she could see the shapes of mountains outlined by starlight. Even with no moon, the ambient light was enough to see shapes and washed-out colors.

Cal sprawled on his back and looked up at the stars. “Always wanted to do this. Last time I camped out anywhere dark enough for this was when I was in college.”

“NASA keeps you too busy?”

“NASA keeps everybody too busy,” he said wryly. “I can’t imagine doing anything else, though.”

“Yeah.” She laughed then added, “I’m not camping out here, by the way. Not when I have a perfectly good bed waiting for me.”

“Don’t worry, I outgrew wanting to sleep on the ground a long time ago,” he replied. They were quiet a moment, then he said, “I can’t imagine what it’s like being driven out. From NASA, I mean.”

“That’s exactly what they did to Iris.” Catherine turned to look at him. “Do you believe her, then?”

“As much as I can. You’re both telling the same story. That’s hard to ignore.” Then he voiced Catherine’s own thoughts. “I wonder, though, if NASA could still ignore it, knowing what we know now.”

There was that “we” again, like a balm to her soul. “Maybe they could. I might wind up being a crazy hermit in the desert somewhere, too.” She made a dry sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I wonder if there’s any land available near Iris’s place.”

“Catherine.” Cal looked over at her. “That’s not going to happen.”

“No? Do you know how many people have told me I don’t want to end up like her? It’s starting to sound less like a warning and more like a threat.”

“You’re not doing this alone, though.” He rolled from his back to his side and propped himself up on one elbow, reaching for her with the other hand. “I believe you. And I won’t be the only one.”

That made her feel warm, but something still troubled her. She still hadn’t told him everything.

“Cal… there’s something else I should tell you.”

He sat up. “That sounds serious.”

Just get it over with, Wells. Rip off the damn bandage.

Catherine sighed. “There’s one thing I’ve remembered all along, since before I came home. Tom and I slept together on the trip out. It was one night, and I shouldn’t have done it. I still don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Oh, my God,” Cal said, and at first Catherine thought he was shocked or disgusted with her, but she looked at him and he looked… happy. “I knew it! I knew you were hiding something! I was right!”

“Cal.”

He stopped, and looked properly chagrined. “I’m sorry. I was going nuts trying to figure out what it was. For what it’s worth, you could have told us. NASA pretty much expected something like that to happen.”

Catherine leaned back on her elbows, her shoulders slumping. “Yeah, well, I guess I was… ashamed.”

“I’m glad you told me. I don’t think any less of you. You’re just human.”

Catherine snorted. “I’m not allowed to be human; I’m a NASA astronaut.” She stopped and shook her head. “I can’t help but wonder now if that didn’t contribute to what happened.”

“Maybe that’s what pushed him over the edge,” Cal suggested, “but I imagine alien possession by itself is a lot of stress to carry.”

“Hell, yes it is,” Catherine muttered.

Something about that made Cal laugh. At first Catherine shot him a look, but a moment later she burst into laughter, too.

“I’m sorry I’ve been ineffective at work,” Cal gasped between laughs, “but the aliens are distracting me.”

“Well, if that excuse would fly anywhere, you’d think it would be at NASA.”

“No.” Cal grinned up at her. “SETI, maybe.”

“Oh shit,” Catherine said, as the giggles hit her harder. “We scooped the guys looking for aliens.”

Every time their eyes met, they’d start laughing again, and eventually it wasn’t even that anything was funny. As Catherine was trying to catch her breath, there was something about the way Cal was looking at her, something in his eyes, just visible in the starlight.

To hell with it, said a voice in her head.

She reached for his hand and tugged at it, leaning down toward him. He met her halfway, as if he’d had the same thought. Aside from Tom, Catherine hadn’t kissed anyone new in twenty years.

She’d forgotten what it was like, that heart-racing, sweaty-palmed exhilaration of the unknown, the new. This kiss—it was like a key that had been sitting in the lock, just waiting to be turned. Cal let go of her hand to slide both of his palms against her cheeks, into her hair, keeping her close to him.

Abruptly, he pulled away. “Shit. Shit. Catherine, I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Whatever came of this, she wanted it. She half expected to see light shooting from her fingertips, feeling alive and bright in a way she hadn’t for—well, a good ten years. “I’m not sorry at all.”

“But, David—”

Catherine shook her head. “We’re finished. The paperwork’s already filed.” She brushed her fingertips down his cheek then surprised herself by curling her fingers in his shirt, pulling him back toward her. “Don’t be sorry.”

This time, Cal didn’t pull away, and the kiss deepened as he slid his arms around her waist. The world shifted around her, and before she knew it, she was lying on her back, half looking at the stars, half looking at Cal. He was warm and real beneath her hands, against her body.

She closed her eyes to the stars overhead and focused on the ones Cal was making her see behind her eyelids. By the time they’d both peeled away their clothing, neither of them was concerned about the nighttime chill, the stars above, or what might await them back home.