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Bobbie could hardly stand watching Earther news.
There were seemingly countless varieties of it, some a bit less insufferable than others. There was the official public-broadcasting network, of course, the one you could get just about anywhere in the system with a functioning feed. That one was fairly straightforward. It mostly stuck to the facts, or at least the facts as its backers understood them, showing what all the major players were doing and saying with relatively little in the way of frills or commentary. Mars had its own version of the same general idea. But Bobbie soon discovered that, if one flipped through the channels on the television in Chrisjen’s residence, there were others. They all approached things from slightly different perspectives, it seemed, but with the same flashy graphics, the same penchant for the dramatic. Slapped a different logo on the banner at the bottom and were ready to go. There was rarely any sign of the desperate poverty Bobbie had seen when she’d walked down the streets of Earth, unless it was a crime report or a human interest piece that might have been inspiring to someone else or one politician after another making the same empty promises of opportunity.
They all talked about Mars pretty much the same way, too. It was a cold and miserable place, one that turned its citizens into joyless automatons. If Bobbie had grown up watching Earther news, she’d realized, she’d have no idea how anyone could ever live somewhere like that. Let alone love somewhere like that.
Plus, there were plenty of things to watch that weren’t news. A lot of them were exactly the kind of nonsense she’d expected, the kind that made her wonder how people could stand to watch that stuff. Others were actually thoughtful and interesting, while still more provoked a kind of morbid fascination. Bobbie was happy to explore these options.
Or at least she was until someone on the show, whatever it was--one of those things the description guide told her were comedies but whose jokes mostly confused her, or the show which, as far as Bobbie could tell, might as well have been a drawn-out advertisement for a certain brand of soft drink, or that weird trivia game show where they smashed various baked goods in each other’s faces as if they’d never heard of shortages--inevitably mentioned Mars. These people's Martians only felt hate and rage, knew neither love nor fear. Not said in so many words, generally speaking, more of an overall sense that there was an enemy lurking on Earth’s neighbor planet whose only purpose was to conquer and destroy.
Which, of course, was exactly what Martians wanted Earthers to think. Often, what Martians wanted themselves to think. But then she’d end up thinking of Travis or Hilly or Sa’id. How very human they’d all been, how much they’d meant to her and--rough as things between them got sometimes--to each other. Or other times, some shadowy, mysterious, vaguely Martian-sounding bad guy would show up and Bobbie would wish she could just roll her eyes, like she might have only a few months before. Before she’d pretty much met one in the flesh, and he’d seemed perfectly normal. Nothing like that at all. Just like any of the other people she’d met, had served with, taken orders from, had seen on the Martian news feeds all her life.
Time for something else. Anything else.
Channel Seven was rebroadcasting clips of Chrisjen’s press conference from earlier that day. Bobbie had seen it already, of course. She’d been there for the actual thing. Had ushered Chrisjen out of there at the end, pushing away the desire to rest her hand on the small of Chrisjen’s back as she did so, knowing the image of that would be all over everyone’s feeds within hours. Wondering if that would really be the worst thing. Knowing that of course it would. Wondering what the hell had gotten into her, that it had even crossed her mind.
“We must all work together to bring Earth into a new age of peace and prosperity,” Chrisjen was saying. “I look forward to continuing the work my Martian counterpart and I have been doing. What we have done so far makes me, and should make us all, hopeful for a bright future.”
Sometimes, Bobbie caught herself entertaining herself by imagining what Chrisjen probably wished she could have said in response to some of these questions, instead of the rehearsed, diplomatic answers she’d been told she had to give. Not that she generally had to spend too long imagining. If Bobbie was there in person, Chrisjen would let her and anyone else who happened to be around them know exactly what she would have said as soon as they were out of recording range. According to Chrisjen, “Whoever decided what constituted conduct befitting this office clearly never fucking held it,” as she’d said on one such occasion. “I’d like to see them deal with half the bullshit I see every day.”
Another reporter had just asked about some comment some private-sector executive had made about the administration’s trade policy. Bobbie could practically feel Chrisjen’s frustration through the screen. She watched Chrisjen’s hand grip the edge of the podium tighter, as if she wanted to slap it down in response to what she’d just heard, but was restraining herself. Bobbie was pretty sure no one else in the room had noticed. It was an odd thing to realize, Bobbie thought.
Staring at Chrisjen’s hands, of course, brought other thoughts to Bobbie’s mind. Of how much Chrisjen’s hands seemed to appreciate Bobbie’s body. Her thoughts drifted to Chrisjen’s lips. The way they formed words, the way they narrowed with irritation or twitched with amusement, the way they felt against Bobbie’s skin--
Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? Bobbie thought. I’m literally watching a politician’s press conference and getting all hot and bothered. She shook her head in exasperation, before laying back against the pillows on Chrisjen’s living room couch. It was getting quite late, she thought. Chrisjen wasn’t back yet. She was later than usual, but not worryingly so, not more than she’d been several other times even just since Bobbie had known her.
Bobbie wanted to see her--not just on the news, in person. She wanted to know that Chrisjen got home safe--it seemed a bit silly, but Bobbie wasn’t going to take anything for granted after everything the two of them had been through recently--and more than that, she’d come to enjoy the routine they’d fallen into, since they’d returned to Earth, of curling up in bed together. A thought Bobbie had certainly never expected she’d ever have, and yet. Bobbie wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.
Chrisjen certainly did keep her place warm--or at least, compared to Mars she did. Bobbie had mostly gotten used to it, but still, she found herself feeling awfully sleepy as the rebroadcast went on. Her eyes started to close as another reporter asked a question about Chrisjen’s infrastructure plan.
Bobbie was brought back to awareness by the sensation of lips against her cheek. “Wha--Chrisjen?” she mumbled.
Chrisjen smiled. “Hello, Bobbie.” She kissed Bobbie’s lips. Bobbie leaned towards her, couldn’t help smiling in return.
“I was going to wait up for you,” Bobbie said.
Chrisjen looked up at the screen. “You were watching these useless fucking idiots?” she said. The press conference had long since ended, Bobbie realized; instead, the screen showed several people in suits sitting around a table, talking about something or other. “No wonder you fell asleep.”
“I think I fell asleep watching you, actually,” Bobbie said back. Chrisjen gasped in mock offense. Bobbie smiled, shaking her head. “You seem to be doing all right,” Bobbie said. “Everything go okay after I left?”
Chrisjen rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me fucking started,” she said. “If you do, I may not get to bed for quite some time, and I’d like to.” She looked back at Bobbie. “Come with me. I know my couch is nice, but I don’t think it was made for someone your size to sleep on.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bobbie said, and they left the living room together, switching off the feed on the way.
It was hard to get over someone when that person kept turning up on news feeds all over the system. Much more often, it seemed like, than she ever had before Bobbie had actually met her. Bobbie knew, of course, that this was a natural consequence of the fact that Chrisjen was now officially in charge of an entire planet, but she hadn’t completely ruled out the option that this was the way the universe had decided to fuck with Bobbie personally.
Because that was what Bobbie had to do. Ignore it, every time it happened. Stay perfectly still and do absolutely nothing to let on what her true feelings about the woman on the screen were while she wondered if her shipmates were giving her funny looks. Pretend the part of her that would love to shout it out to the whole damn system and whatever it was that lay beyond didn’t exist and never had.
It had been standard in the Martian Marine Corps to use the UN’s symbol for target practice. Bobbie would be surprised if there hadn’t been some time when some bunch of marines had used Chrisjen’s photograph. Probably more than one time. She knew the way people talked about Chrisjen. The things they called her. To them--to Bobbie, once upon a time--Chrisjen had been just as much a symbol of every awful thing they’d ever believed about Earth as the United Nations flag.
Bobbie had known all along that the goal was for her to be reinstated. To go back to Mars, back to the marine corps. And when it had happened, she and Chrisjen had both agreed it was for the best, as Bobbie had known all along they would, if they didn’t try to continue this… whatever it was they had started together. Bobbie knew people had long-distance relationships all the time, that while Earth and Mars were far from the most common configuration for such things, there were ways to work it out. Especially now that their home planets were getting along, or at least they were supposed to be.
But even with that, Bobbie quite literally being in bed with the leader of the United Nations would not do her any favors with her fellow Martians. And while Chrisjen hadn’t said it in so many words, Bobbie couldn’t imagine being caught with a Martian marine young enough to be her daughter would do Chrisjen any, either. And there was a limit to how long something like that could possibly stay secret, especially once Bobbie was back on a Martian gunship, surrounded constantly by her fellow soldiers. Someone would have to find out eventually.
It’s not like Chrisjen gives a fuck what a bunch of random Martians think about her, Bobbie thought. So why should I? Why do I?
The answer seemed obvious. She doesn’t have to. She barely had to give a fuck what her own people thought, until recently. Now you both do, which means you both made the right choice.
But it still brought Bobbie back to the same question, one which for the first time she was honestly asking. Why do I?
She’d known from the beginning she had no real case at her court martial. Everything she’d done had been for the sake of Mars, of all of humanity, but that didn’t matter. She’d disobeyed legitimate orders. She knew what that would mean.
There had been a message from Chrisjen before it happened, asking if there was anything she could do in the matter. Bobbie ignored it. The Secretary-General of the United Nations attempting to interfere in the official processes of the Martian military was the absolute last thing Bobbie needed or wanted.
Which wasn’t to say there was nothing she wanted from Chrisjen. What she wanted was to hold her again, to kiss her. Or, if they had to be separated by outer space, then… she didn’t even know what she’d want Chrisjen to say to her, none of it would undo what had already been done, but there had to be something, just to know that she still cared and understood. Bobbie knew, of course, that it was a ridiculous thing for her to want, that it wasn’t something Chrisjen could possibly take time out of her schedule for, that even if they had been on the same planet that was exactly the kind of thing they’d decided they weren’t going to do anymore, and yet she wanted it so much that it hurt and she knew that was exactly why she deserved the judgement that had been handed down to her.
There was another message after it was over, after the outcome of the case had been broadcast all over Martian news and, apparently, Earther news as well. Bobbie ignored that one too.
Much later, she’d want to throw something at the television as she sat on the couch in her brother’s apartment and saw Chrisjen’s face appear on the screen. As she heard her reciting all those lines that Bobbie might once have assumed had come from someone else--but had they? Had she ever really known Chrisjen--known Secretary Avasarala at all?
They were right about her. They were right all along. She’s just another politician. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Another politician, with another election coming up, with just as much bullshit to give out as any of the others she’d ever complained about. To Bobbie, to anyone.
“Assuming your offer to work together is still open, I accept,” Bobbie said. She could feel herself shaking as she stared into the camera in front of her. “I think we need each other.” She switched off the recording, glancing behind her once more even though she knew full well she was alone. She hit send before she could have second thoughts.
As soon as she’d sent the message to Chrisjen, Bobbie realized the Earth election was supposed to have been held that day. Which she’d made a note of, since apparently it had still meant something to her.
It wasn’t hard to find the results. Every feed was broadcasting them. The new UN Secretary-General would be Nancy Gao. Everyone was talking about the stunning upset, dissecting every move the two candidates had made, speculating on what it meant for Earth’s future, for the whole system’s future. Bobbie turned away from the screen, shutting off the feed before she had to hear any more of the talking heads theorizing on whether or not Chrisjen had proven just too unlikeable for the voters of Earth.
Oh, she could show you all unlikeable if she wanted, Bobbie thought. You don’t know the goddamn half of it.
Bobbie could hardly sleep that night. She kept tossing and turning in bed, thinking someone had to know that she knew what she was pretty sure she knew now. That they’d come bursting into the hotel room to drag her away--or worse, that they’d track down Benji, Benji who’d done nothing but offer his sister a place to stay after she’d so colossally fucked up. She definitely couldn’t go back to his place now. Probably couldn’t ever again. At least she could probably find something of her own fairly easily, now that so many people were leaving. One good thing about that, if nothing else.
And she kept glancing at her handheld, then at the screen on the wall as if it would somehow hold something the handheld didn’t. Then reminding herself of the time it took for a message to get from Mars to Earth. Let alone for Chrisjen to actually see it and respond. If she was even going to respond. Wondering what Chrisjen might be doing, if she was cursing Gao and everyone associated with her or seeking comfort in Arjun’s arms or if she was simply getting on with things, even well into the night. Then remembering those long, late evenings she’d spent on Chrisjen’s couch and how safe she’d once felt there, in the home of her former enemy. Suddenly being hit by everything she was missing.
Bobbie sometimes wondered what might have happened if she’d just never left Earth at all after she’d gone back there with Chrisjen, after Io. She could actually admit it to herself now, which she supposed was something. But she knew now more than ever she couldn’t run away.
Finally, a message came through to Bobbie’s handheld. She scrambled to open it.
Chrisjen’s face appeared on the screen. She looked drained, like something had been knocked out of her since Bobbie had last seen her. Which, considering it was Chrisjen, meant she looked much better than Bobbie assumed she herself must have looked when she’d made her own frantic call. She was wearing a yellow nightdress beneath an enormous cape. Her hair was down, and as upset as Bobbie still was, as Chrisjen clearly was, Bobbie couldn’t deny that there was something captivating about the woman on the screen.
“By the time you receive this,” Chrisjen said, “I assume you will have seen the news reports, and will know that as of next week, I will no longer be the UN Secretary-General. If you reached out to me in hopes of a direct line to Earth’s leader, I’m afraid you are in for a disappointment.
“Even so, Bobbie, you were right. We do need each other. I need you, perhaps more than you know.” She paused for a moment, as if she’d known Bobbie would need one to let that sink in--or maybe she herself did. “And there are many things happening right now that concern me greatly, and I sure as fuck don’t intend to stand idly by simply because I no longer hold that office. My earlier offer still stands.
“I have been reassigned to Luna, and intend to depart tomorrow. I will contact you with further instructions when I arrive. In the meantime, don’t do anything stupid, and stay safe.”
Bobbie felt herself relax slightly for the first time since she’d started following Beltran. She immediately opened a new message and started a reply to Chrisjen.
“No, that’s not why I called you, and I think you know it,” she said. “I’m--” She’d been about to say she was sorry about what had happened with the election, but then realized that would probably just irritate Chrisjen further. “As someone who generally seems to know her stuff once told me, fuck ‘em. They don’t deserve you. But you never needed to be secretary-general, really, did you? Not when I first knew you. Not as much as I’m sure they need you to be, anyway.
“And thank you, ma’am. For your offer, and for not giving up on me. Even when I’d pretty much given up on me.”
Once the transition of power was complete, Chrisjen all but disappeared from the news feeds. Not that Bobbie watched much anymore. She didn’t see much reason to. She was at the point of being pretty sure anything she saw there was a lie, no matter who it came from.
She did occasionally tune into the UN feeds, hoping for a glimpse of her. More often than not, all she got was Nancy Gao, going on about the colonization efforts. Those times, she switched off the feed. If what she wanted was to see Chrisjen, she had another option.
Chrisjen had, indeed, sent Bobbie another message when she’d arrived on Luna. She’d explained to her how this was going to work. Bobbie would continue more or less as she’d been, only now she’d have a different objective. She would find out whatever she could about the secret weapons deals--with Chrisjen funding her involvement--and would send Chrisjen whatever she uncovered. But that hadn’t been all Chrisjen had said.
“Bobbie, we will find the bottom of this goddamn thing, as far as we have to go,” she’d gone on. “I know that we will. And when this is all over, I want you back with me, on Luna, on Earth, wherever I am by then. And not just to work for me.
“The truth is,” Chrisjen said, “I love you, Bobbie. I didn’t say it earlier because I didn’t want to fall in love with you, but I have, I had long before you went back to Mars. Perhaps I could have saved you a lot of trouble and pain if I had done so, or perhaps I would only have done so for myself. But I want you in my life. I missed you as soon as you left for Mars. I don’t ever want to go that fucking long without seeing you again.
“You are the strongest, bravest, most capable woman I know, and I know you can handle this, and come back to me. Remember that.”
No matter what happened, no matter how much further down there was to go to reach the bottom, Bobbie knew she had at least one person to believe in, even if there was no one and nothing else. And that one person believed in her.
That was more than she’d once dared to hope for.