Carina Valencia

[NebulaCloud]

~~Two years ago, 817 AS~~

Carina climbed the last flight of stairs to Rodrigo’s apartment, sweaty from the un-air-conditioned subway trip from the starport across town, and from the long walk from the metro station in the blistering Houstonian sun. She had only been shaken down by the police patrols twice, a record low for her. She wondered if perhaps she was starting to gain a small amount of recognition for her work on the prison transports, or if perhaps today she was just lucky.

This was her third deployment on the LPS Tranquil, and the third time she was bringing home a paycheck that had far more digits than she ever thought she would see in her life. She couldn’t help but grin a little as she thumbed the credit clip in her pocket, resisting the urge to take it out and admire the sizable number that slowly blinked at the bottom line of the small LED display showing her net earnings. She had almost gone straight to the bank to cash it in, but the uncommonly hot day convinced her to just go on back home and relax. This particular deployment had been particularly taxing, as over the last two months she had been relegated mostly to servicing air ducts due to her smaller frame and greater flexibility than most of the other deck hands. Not that she could complain—she never liked being treated like she couldn’t handle a job—but the Tranquil was a particularly old vessel that was rapidly falling into disrepair, and she had easily spent more than twice the time squeezed and bent in the cramped ducts and crawl spaces than she had spent sleeping, and she was more than ready for four weeks of rest. The pack on her back felt like it was stuffed with cement, even though she had always made a point of only bringing with her the things she knew she would absolutely need, and her heavy boots may as well have been bricks.

During her time ashore she had been able to visit her mother and sister, though not nearly as often as she would have liked. She had not spoken to her father since their confrontation at the foundry, and Consuela’s hours as a maid varied from day to day. Sometimes she may have up to ten clients in a day, and others she could have as few as three. Her mother rarely left the house, so she was only able to visit them either individually or when Consuela was able to get back to their house before Felix came home. Her mother had told her she was trying to convince Felix to allow her to come home, but he was being as bullheaded as ever, refusing to even acknowledge her existence until he received an apology. Which, of course, she had no intention whatsoever of offering. If she didn’t resent him before, she verged on hating him now.

She had been secretly giving a substantial portion of her increased earnings to her mother to help them out with their household, but she wasn’t sure how effectively she was able to hide it from her husband. Each time she was able to visit them, however, all of the lights were still on, the water was still flowing, and there was food in the cupboard, so she guessed it was helping. She had even noticed that both of them had been able to buy some new clothing by the time she got back from her second deployment, and it had been a long time since she’d remembered being that pleased about anything. She had also insisted on paying Rodrigo a stipend for rent and for her share of the utilities, even though he stubbornly argued she wasn’t around enough to make much of a difference in his consumption. The thing he never did complain about, however, was the fact that while she was planetside, she made it a point to cook him a hearty meal every single night. He had joked on several occasions that having her around was almost better than having a wife, since she never got in his way and was always good company when he wanted it, but anytime he made any off-color insinuations about a wife’s other duties he received a hand upside his head. She wasn’t sure how much it dissuaded him, however, because he never stopped finding her irritation hilariously funny.

Rodrigo was pulling a cold bottle of beer from his little refrigerator when she walked in. “Qué pasa, mija?” he asked jovially, tossing the cold bottle her way as soon as he saw her.

Even though it was straight out of the icebox, by the time it travelled through the air and slapped into her palm as she snatched it, it was already dripping with condensation from the muggy heat. Carina ran the bottle across her forehead, reveling in the chilly sensation as she pushed some stray hair from her face. “Ready to sit down and do absolutely nothing for about a week,” she said tiredly.

The big man chuckled as he reached into the icebox and got another beer for himself. “So it was a good trip then, huh?” he said, cracking the top off of the bottle and tipping it up.

She dropped her backpack to the floor by the couch and fell into a seat, sighing loudly at how good it felt to sit down. Rodrigo’s apartment was slightly smaller than her own family’s house, but since there were half of the people living in it for only one month out of three, it felt like a palace. The landlord was much better about the upkeep as well, and it was a newer building. She still hadn’t completely figured out how he was able to afford such a place on his own, even if he had been working at the foundry for almost thirty years and was certainly making far more money than she ever did there, but by Houston standards, it still didn’t seem like it would be enough. She had brought it up a number of times before, but every time he had been somewhat vague with his answers.

Rodrigo came over and sat in his big chair across the room from her as she popped her own beer open and downed a third of the bottle in one gulp. The cool, light liquid seemed to drive all of the heat straight from her body, and she couldn’t help sighing again. He chuckled again. “Damn, they working you to death, are they?” he asked.

Carina grinned and shrugged. “For what they’re paying me, I’d stay on four months,” she replied. “Ain’t any harder than what I was doing before.”

“You don’t fool me,” he jabbed, smirking at her. “The brass at Montgomery didn’t give you half of what you’re capable of, if you ask me. You’re a damn machine, Lauchita.”

Her eyebrows raised as she glanced across at him. “Big bear Rodrigo complimenting someone on their work?” she shot back. “Now there’s a surprise.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, taking another drink. “I figure I gotta be nice to you now, otherwise I don’t think I’ll be eating like royalty anymore.”

Carina laughed quietly. “Smart guy,” she said.

“Still thinkin’ about putting in another application to LPI?” he asked her.

“A little,” she answered, shrugging again as she took another long drink. “I dunno if I should wait a little while though.”

Rodrigo thumbed his bottle pensively for a moment. “You know,” he began, “a friend of mine is a flight instructor at the civilian school. I could talk to him, see if he might be able to get you in.”

She furrowed her brow at him. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “Yeah. The way I figure, if you already have basic flight under your belt, they might be more likely to hire you. They got enough beat cops planetside, and I heard they were short on orbital and trade lane patrols.”

“Why the change of heart?” she asked, tilting her head. “I thought you said I didn’t have a chance.”

“Heh. You’ve already surprised a lot of people,” he replied. “And you ain’t nothin’ like us, Carina.”

Now she was thoroughly intrigued. Rodrigo only used her name when he was really trying to be serious. “What’s that mean?” she inquired.

“I mean you’re different than the rest of us degenerates,” he explained, shifting slightly in his chair. “Most people in this neighborhood would step over their own mama if they could get ahead. You? You take care of everyone else before you worry about yourself. How much of that fortune you’re making off world are you actually keeping?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Enough to save a little bit every time I come back.”

“’Zactly,” he said, gently pointing at her with a thick finger. “Whole reason you wanted this job is to provide for your family. You know damn well it ain’t because you dreamed of scrubbing latrines and knocking out convicts who are stupid enough to put their hands on you.”

“What’s your point?” she sharply asked.

“My point, mija,” he answered, “is that you wanna prove that you’re not Felix. You wanna show yourself that you’re better than him. That a person don’t have to be a slave to their family name.”

A slow grin spread across her face. “Wow,” she said sardonically. “That’s damn poetic of you.”

“I’m serious, Cari,” he insisted. “You’ve wanted to be a cop as long as I’ve known you, regardless of whatever reason I think it might be. You’d be a natural. You’ve lived your life protecting your mother and sister; it ain’t so far-fetched to think that you’d do any worse protecting other innocents too.”

She narrowed one eye at him, tucking some hair behind her ear.

Rodrigo shrugged. “Hey, if you don’t want my help, I’ll let it be,” he said, settling back into his seat again as he tipped his beer up nonchalantly.

“No, it’s not that,” she said quietly. “It’s just… you really would do that? I mean, you’ve already taken me in. I already owe you too much as it is.”

“Ay, callate, ya,” he said dismissively. “You’re like the daughter I never had. You belong out there. You were made for something more than this,” he added, motioning around him.

She couldn’t help smiling or looking briefly at her lap before she caught herself and cleared her throat. “How much would basic flight cost?” she asked.

“Let me talk to him,” he said, “but I bet we can work something out. You just worry about your time off for now, and we’ll figure out how we’re gonna make you a pilot. Then we’ll make you look good on your LPI application.”

“All right,” she agreed, taking another drink. “Maybe.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, and she just stared across at him, a slight smile on her face. She actually felt moved. Rodrigo was as much family to her as her mother and sister, and she was more than grateful to have someone like him.

“You gonna go see your mama today?” he asked after a few minutes.

She shook her head. “It’s too late,” she replied. “Dad’ll be getting off work any minute.”

“Well, in that case,” he said with a deadpan expression, “why don’t ya quit stinking up my couch and back your skinny butt into the kitchen to make us some dinner.”

Carina burst into laughter and hefted her backpack up, throwing it across the room at him. He deflected it with one of his massive paws, grinning that crooked-toothed mischievous mustachioed grin back at her. “So much for being ‘nice,’ joto,” she chided.

[EDIT: 9/28 - Timeline revised]