Chapter Two

1.

In space, Annabelle could waltz.

One two three, turn two three, down the passageway. The magnets in her shoes clicked in time to a half-remembered tune she hummed without any real enthusiasm. Dancing should have made her feel better, but all it was doing was reminding her of limitations.

Her mechanical leg was as artful as dear Nathanial could make it, built with that strangely light metal from the ancient cities of Luna, inlaid with brass and teak. It as was lovely as it was ingenious.

And it wasn’t a real leg. She could hear it ticking as it moved with her, storing the energy of her dance steps in its clockwork and spending it with the next twirl. But for all that, it was a dead thing strapped to what remained of her leg. Were she back on Earth, she’d be stumbling through the steps as she tried to maintain her balance. Perhaps with time she’d learn to dance, perhaps even in time to turn around the floor at her wedding. She’d like that. But she still wouldn’t be able to feel the floor.

It was difficult admitting that one had weaknesses. Annabelle had always prided herself on a lack of vanity, as contradictory as that might sound. She had never understood the bustle wearing masses of fluttering femininity she’d see fanning themselves at the society functions she’d occasionally find herself at. Unlike them, she was capable of striding about on her own two feet without the need to cling to anyone’s arm, thank you very much. But now she no longer had both of those feet to stride with. She might find herself quite literally in need of that arm.

Annabelle stopped at the entrance to the greenhouse and stared at the unblinking stars in the perpetual night of space. Crippled or not, she was a long way from simpering and worrying about the latest gossip. She was a long way from anywhere, come to think of it. And she might do well to remember that it wasn’t in a fit of pity that George had agreed to marry her. That particular look in his eyes wasn’t one easily faked. No, at least one man didn’t think of her as damaged goods. Her cheeks flushed with the memory.

She was still the girl who could steer a flyer by herself, who’d taken down dinosaurs with bow and arrow, who had ridden barely tamed mustangs bareback with nothing more than twine for a bridle. She could still do those things, she told herself. Perhaps she’d even ride again, although these days she was as likely to find herself astride a gashant as a horse. Or aside, she reminded herself. Her new leg hadn’t the sensitivity to command a horse, but there was no reason she couldn’t ride sidesaddle. She’d once met a gentleman friend of her uncle’s who rode that way, thanks to an unfortunate incident with a Confederate cannon ball.

If that fellow could soldier on, so could she. She decided she believed that. Curtseying to an imaginary gentleman, she resumed the dance. For now, at least, she led. The thought made her laugh, perhaps excessively.

“Good to see that your spirits have improved,” Nathanial said from the depths of a wing-back chair facing the view.

Annabelle stopped her twirl, her skirts sagging downward with the aid of their hem magnets. “I didn’t see you there.”

“And if you had, you would have stifled yourself?” Nathanial uncurled himself from the chair and perched on the edge of a planter, an oversized tome tucked jauntily underneath his arm. “Hardly sounds like the Miss Somerset I know.”

“Miss Somerset? When did we stand on such formality?”

“Thought I might use the name while it’s still yours. I’m having a touch of difficulty imagining you as an officer’s wife. I hear the etiquette is…demanding.”

“Pfft. I’m marrying Commander Bedford, not the service. I like to think he knows what he’s getting. And I’m sure I’ll get on just fine. There’ll be other wives to show me the proverbial ropes and all that.”

“Oh, no doubt they’ll all be perfectly nice,” Nathanial said. He stared out at the vacuum. “But you? I admit, I’ve harboured hopes that perhaps you’d stop charging into the mouth of danger at every opportunity.”

“I don’t charge into danger, it just seems to find us.”

“Trust me, I know. I truly wish that danger didn’t seem to have your postal address. A month back on Hygeia, I would have happily have bundled you on the next steamer back to Earth. Anything to keep you safe. But now…” He trailed off, fiddling with a cufflink.

“Come now, Nathanial. How long have we known each other? After all we’ve been through I think I can ask for openness from you.”

“As I said, I’ve had time to think. To observe. It’s what we scientists do, you know.”

“And what has the esteemed professor observed?”

“A young woman who seems born for space and adventure. And I have to ask myself if a world of tea parties and formals is all she wants? Or does she expect to be able to hire an aether flyer when the itch to do some damn fool thing on some damn fool planet overtakes her? As it seems to do every other week, I might add.”

Nathanial would be one to bring up the very concerns gnawing at her. Annabelle sat down on a bench under a potted gumme tree. Its scent reminded her of the Blackjack chews Uncle Cyrus had given her when she had first arrived at his ranch. It had been the first time that she remembered being comfortable. Being safe. That feeling had hardly been unwelcome back then.

“Perhaps,” she said, toying with her skirt hem, “my adventuring days are over.”

“Oh? Shall we stop by Earth and drop you off at the nearest Home for Bored Young Girls?”

“Stop it.” She found herself gritting her teeth. “You truly are a brother to me. Only a brother could prick my hide so.”

Nathanial winced. “I’m just trying to say, I don’t see you being content with such a life.”

“What? Are you trying to warn me off? I love George! I’m more than willing to entertain at a few functions for him. What, you think me some sort of feral child who…” A vague memory flitted at the back of her mind, stopping her. She remembered something about running barefoot across dried mud under the sun. Her feet were blistered, but she’d needed to run. She’d forgotten why, though.

Nathanial didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve nothing but the highest regard for your young man. Why, for someone who once threw me in chains and charged me with treason, he’s agreeable enough. Not so dull as to think you’re anyone but whom you are.”

“Oh? And what, pray tell, am I?”

“Bold to the point of impetuous, brilliant to the point of madness, with enough verve and energy to run our aether propeller, if I could just discover how to harness it.” He attempted a smile. “Perhaps we could hook a generator up to that leg of yours.”

“The crippled girl might still be useful, then?”

Nathanial’s eyes widened. “Oh, here now, that isn’t what I—”

“Meant to say. Of course not, you’re far too kind. You’re trying to cheer me with your whimsy, but you can’t forget what I am, can you? You’re trying ever so hard, telling me what an adventurous sort I am, making me the best false leg in the history of humanity, all that. Don’t think I don’t know that. Appreciate it, even.”

Nathanial leaned over and patted her arm. Annabelle pushed it away, standing up with minimal awkwardness. But then, there was no gravity to inhibit her. Not out here in the void.

“Please sit back down,” Nathanial said. “I can’t bear to see you like this. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?” To her anger, she felt wetness on her cheeks. “For doing everything you can to try to allow me some normality? No doubt you’re plotting some improvement on this as we speak.” She batted her hand at the leg, making a dull thud. She shook her head. “It’s no good. I’m no stranger to denial, either. I keep telling myself that I can lead a normal life. That I’ll be able to dance, ride, explore, everything I used to do.”

“My dear, you know that every one of us will help you any way we can. Just tell us what you need and we’ll be there for you.”

Annabelle wiped her eyes. “I know. As I love all of you, I know. But I don’t want what you’re trying to give me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Pity.”

She strode out of the greenhouse as quickly as she could. She hardly wobbled at all.