Chapter 8 -- Marinek 

The night Jinsang leaves, I can’t sleep. The feeling that he’s[1] making the wrong decision overwhelms me.

I know that Jinsang must make their own mistakes, but it took a lot not to keep pushing. Things happen for a reason, and I don’t want that reason to be me. I am worried and I am drained.

Deep into the night, having spent hours staring at the ceiling, letting the worry wash over me, a message comes through.

‘Hi, it’s Jinsang. I’m fine.’

Then another: ‘Thanks again for everything you’ve done.’

Relieved, I reply: ‘No worries. Rest well.’

Then I type out, ‘Let me know when you get where you’re going’ but delete it without hitting send.

When sleep finally comes, she is restless, jostling me along her banks and rousing me throughout the night.

The next morning, I eat cold leftovers, wanting something blander. I let the deadened flavours rest on my tongue and seep in. I get ready for work, choosing worn, soft clothes in which to wrap myself.

It’ll be more comfortable under the water-suit, I rationalize. For the next few days, I’ll be travelling with a group of deep-ocean fishers. My job is to protect them from things lurking in the dark.

I get to the rendezvous early. People like it when I’m early; I think it makes them feel more confident in my competence. In any case, they usually smile and say something like, “Oh good, you’re early,” and don’t treat me like some brainless hired muscle. Being early makes it easier for all of us.

I lean up against a wall where I’ll be clearly visible. Once the rest of the team assembles, there’ll be a few hours of logistics I don’t need to be involved with, like adjusting water-suits and checking oxygen reserves. No one generally minds if I don’t seem like I’m paying attention as long as I’m awake and in sight.

After a quick check of my surroundings to ensure it’s okay to drop my attention for a bit, I pull my holocom from the bag slung across my chest and open the journal I keep on it. I enter some notes about this morning and then, scrolling back over the past few days, I think again of Jinsang.

Opening the search feature, I find the entries about the half-year we spent together. We were out in Tetskeal.[2] The job was my first time out-dimension. We were much younger and much more foolish then, not yet having been bruised so badly by the world.

It started when we were hired to rob a silk baron. I was meant to handle any guards unlucky enough to notice us. Jinsang was on doors. Even without the journal, I remember it clearly.

The shuttle we’d be dropping the goods to was in a small warehouse on Noir. Jinsang stood by the shuttle, along with a few people who’d be carrying and loading goods, and me. So I was there to watch as Jinsang reached forward and his fingers vanished into some intangible nothingness I couldn’t perceive. They grasped and, as if pulling aside a curtain, opened a portal into the baron’s vault.

I hadn’t met a Resistor[3] before. It seemed like something from a dream. I remember the way door’s edges danced and curled. I remember the breeze of another world passing through to glide against my face.

On the other side of the portal, I stood by the door to the vault and listened. Jinsang mirrored my stance by the door between worlds. While we watched the others carry riches, our eyes met. Jinsang smiled.

Scrolling through later journal entries, it’s more stories of similar heists—including some that didn’t go as smoothly. I run a finger over a faint scar on my calf from an incident with an eager guard.

We had fought and they had caught me with a knife. I choked them until they fell unconscious then laid them down on the plush carpet. I started heading down the hall, away from the guard, but I couldn’t walk much on my leg. I managed to make it to a closet some distance off. As I scrounged together a splint, I thought about the trail of blood I’d left and hoped the carpet was dark and thick enough to hide it.

I had started getting to work on fixing my jammed plasma gun when Jinsang’s voice over the small com in my ear asked where I was.

“Closet, second floor, northwest side.” I kept my voice down, the words barely a breath across my lips. Unspoken were my doubts that Jinsang knowing would make a difference. We hadn’t been able to scope out the building before the job.

“I’m behind you.” His voice was equally soft but I still jumped. The door rippled behind them and he held a hand out to me. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.” I took their hand. “How did you find me?”

He shrugged ever so slightly. “A prayer heard? Or maybe just good luck.” They smiled and I knew it was a lie, but I didn’t ask again. I remembered the lessons from my grandmother’s stories.

It was easier then—talking to Jinsang, guessing what was in their head. We had been stepping in sync and now we’re stuck in different songs.

The fishers’ leader waves me over. They’re ready to go. I decide to send a message to Jinsang.

It says, ‘Hope the job is going well. Let me know if you end up back in town.’

I close my holocom and return it to my bag.