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Max pushed the heels of their hands into their eyelids, trying fruitlessly to stave off the coming headache. All they could think about was coming home from the gala; last night’s fight had been one for the books. Max had said a lot of things, most of them regrettable.
“You need a fucking hobby, Aubrey. I can get Lieutenant Colonel Okafor to teach you how to knit, if that will direct this useless rage anywhere productive. Or—no, actually. I don’t think teaching you to shoot could possibly end well, for you or for me.”
It was a low, shitty blow, and Max had known it; still, it was so easy to rile Aubrey up. All you had to do was imply that they weren’t the person they pretended to be, that they did, in fact, have flaws; flaws like the overwhelming rage being directed at Max in that very moment.
Max couldn’t remember what Aubrey said, then—neither did Aubrey, probably, drunk as they were—but it was enough to require a tactical retreat. Max had asked the driver to stop; they pulled over, and Max picked a direction at random. They walked for a very long time, meandering through Tharsis with no sense of where they were going and why—through some trick of muscle memory they’d ended up here, in their office. They’d divested themself of all their finery and scrubbed their makeup off in the bathroom; now, they were taking care of paperwork for the upcoming deployment and trying not to think too hard. It was a good thing they’d gotten back to Laohu House[1] alright, despite wandering through the city wearing eight million yuan worth of pearls. It was a good thing House Gale paid their staff well, to prevent people like the driver of that car from running to the tabloids when the bastards inevitably offered to buy gossip off them.
Max sighed heavily and turned their chair towards the window, watching as the sun rose over Tharsis. They missed this, on deployments—sunrise on Enceladus or Phobos wasn’t the same, light blooming on an empty horizon instead of the sky-scraping towers of the city. There was a lot they missed, when they were away—
Max shut the lid on that thought quickly, and returned to their paperwork. They’d started measuring it in centimetres around a decade ago now; there was just that much of it. Seventeen centimetres to assure the health and safety of all the officers they were taking with them, twenty-three centimetres to verify the chain of command in case Max died on deployment, twenty-eight centimetres to requisition more guns—it never ended.[2] So all they could do was chip away at it, page by page, watching the sun rise over the city and the regiment’s officers filter in through the one-way glass in their office door—all until the secure line on Max’s desk buzzed, breaking their concentration.
“Yeah?” they inquired in Russian, wedging the receiver in between the side of their head and their shoulder; it was Sergeant Kuznetsov down at the front desk.
“Someone’s…here to see you, Colonel Liu-Tsahar.” Kuznetsov informed them, a note of trepidation in their voice.
Max pressed the heels of their hands into their eyes, praying it wasn’t another accursed journalist[3] “Who?”
Kuznetsov paused, as though trying to work out how to word something. “That’s the thing, sir—they’re saying that they’re Senator Gale.”
Well, then. Senators had very high clearance, as a general rule; if Aubrey really had shown up to Max’s place of work in order to continue a fight from six hours ago, they would have just been sent up. Max had learnt that one the hard way. “And are they?”
Another long pause. Finally, Sergeant Kuznetsov sighed. “They won’t answer the security questions—you should probably just come see for yourself, sir.”
Max dropped the receiver back onto the phone and set off. There was a knot of anxiety in their chest that only seemed to grow as they got in the lift and descended the twenty-six storeys to the front entrance. They had no idea what they were going to encounter when they hit the ground floor, had no way to properly prepare; the knot only seemed to get worse, twisting itself further into its horrible tangle and trying its level best to crawl up Max’s throat.
The doors to the lift opened—Sergeant Kuznetsov saluted stiffly. And as it turned out, the other person standing at the front desk, the one trying to gain entry, wasn’t Aubrey Gale. They certainly looked like Aubrey; they were wearing one of Aubrey’s sweaters, yes, and holding Aubrey’s ID, but—
“Max!” River chirped, a smile blooming on their face.[4]
Max smiled back in spite of themself, switching to Chinese. “Hey there. What brings you to Laohu House?”
“What, I can’t come visit my friend before they get deployed?” River needled them, though their tone was still light. If Max’s heart did something odd at the descriptor, they prayed it didn’t show.
“Not if you’re going to be committing identity fraud,” Sergeant Kuznetsov muttered in Russian, and Max had to stop themself from bursting out laughing.
“We’re alright, Sergeant. Appreciate the vigilance.” To River, Max said “Let’s go up to my office, yeah?” River agreed, and the pair absconded.
“Did you really steal Aubrey’s ID just to come and see me? Max asked, once they were in the safety of the elevator.
River shrugged, but a self-satisfied smile had worked its way onto their face. “It’s not like Aubrey’s using their senatorial clearance; besides, they weren’t just going to let a linguistics professor from the university into the Defence Department just because they asked nicely. And it worked, so shut up,”
“Creative application of “worked” there, but alright.” The mention of Aubrey only served to remind them of last night—Max felt a sudden, awful surge of guilt. “How’s Aubrey doing?”
“Apparently they went to some crazy afterparty after the gala; they got Dr. Okonkwo to hook them up to a banana bag and are now watching bad reality TV and sulking. So, you know. Standard behaviour.” Their brow furrowed, and Max could see the pieces falling together in their mind. “Did something happen last night?”
“No, nothing.” Max lied. “Uneventful. Needed to get some work done back here; lots to prep before liftoff. You know how it goes.”
“Oh, good.” The tension leaving River was something nearly tangible, a weight off their slender shoulders. “You never really know, with them.”
They echoed Max’s sentiments exactly, but Max would never let that one on. Instead, they opted to employ a technique they’d perfected over the three decades they’d spent knee-deep in classified information and changed the subject.
“Elevator drops you off right in the bullpen—everyone’s going to think you’re Aubrey.” they informed River. “Be prepared to act disgustingly in love with me and maybe sign an autograph or two.”
In any other circumstances, Max suspected that River would have kept their face carefully neutral—politely blank, as was perpetually expected of them as scions of the Great Houses. It must have been wonderful to have someone you could trust like that. Instead, they shrugged. “It won’t be difficult. You’d be surprised how many exams we took for one another in uni.”
Max couldn’t stop their shock from writing itself clear across their face. “Okay, you definitely owe me that story later.”
“Later,” River agreed. Max steeled their nerves and rested a hand, ever so slightly, on the small of their back.
“Ready?” they inquired.
River nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Ready.”
The elevator doors slid open; Max could feel it as the gaze of everyone in the room fell on them. “Morning, all.”
Lieutenant Colonel Kapoor’s eyes nearly popped out of their skull as the pair of them stepped out of the elevator. “You’re—”
“The fabled Aubrey Gale, yes.” River had shifted the way they were standing; Aubrey always tended to be a little bit looser in their more informal public appearances, a far cry from the stiff way River typically held themself. It was a nice touch.
Kapoor’s eyes went even wider, if that were possible; River laughed.
Major Zhang whipped their cap off, rummaging in their desk for a pen. “If you wouldn’t mind—?”
That was skating dangerously close; Max had to step in, carefully easing the pen from Major Zhang’s hands. “Afraid not, зая—Section 8, paragraph 13 of the uniform code.“
Something flickered in River’s eyes. “Apologies—we must get going. Colonel Liu and I have much to discuss.”
Max inclined their head in acknowledgment. “Indeed.”
Kapoor saluted, urging everyone back to their desks. Max offered River their arm; they took it, just as Aubrey would have done. They retreated into Max’s office together, Max closing the door behind them—the pair were alone at last.
River sighed; Max could see the Aubrey disguise dropping away as River straightened up their posture, tossing their coat over the back of a chair. “It’s like a period piece in here,” they marvelled.
“Yes.” Max said stiffly, suddenly embarrassed. It felt improper to have River in here—the alley had been one thing, plausible deniability and all that, but this was selfish. “Unfortunately, technology has holes that are becoming increasingly easy for malicious actors to exploit; for the sake of operational security, our communications are strictly offline.”
River laughed. “Relax. Everyone thinks I’m your spouse.”
Sergeant Kuznetsov didn’t, something hissed bitterly in the back of Max’s brain before they could stop it. They sighed, slamming the lid on that line of thinking. “Remind me what you wanted to talk to me about?”
River’s eyes widened. “Oh—I’m sorry. I’d forgotten.” They rummaged in the pockets of their coat for a moment, coming up with something round and shiny.
As River got closer, Max realised abruptly that it was Max’s own challenge coin; given to River the day Max had touched back down, as some kind of—as what? What had Max been doing that day in the pine forest?[5]
“River,” Max said softly. “You didn’t need to do that. I was joking, you know.”
River uncurled Max’s fingers, pressing the coin into their hand. “Well, why not? You said to bring it back the next time I saw you. And besides,”—their breath hitched, so quietly that Max wouldn’t have heard it if they hadn’t been standing so close—“I needed an excuse.”
“To come see me? No, you don’t.” You never do, Max tacked on internally.
River laughed. “Please, just take the thing. You said yourself, you’ve never done a mission without it. Think of it as good luck.”
“I don’t need luck.” Max shot back, trying for levity. “I have thirty years of experience backing me up.”
“Even experience can’t trump chance.”
Oh, shit. This was about Titan, wasn’t it. “River,” Max started, squeezing River’s hand softly. “I wish I could. But we all serve at the pleasure of Consul Song.” Consul Song, who held the fate of House Liu in their hands. Consul Song, who’s policy towards House Gale was more one of mercy than anything else.
That same thing flickered in River’s eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Out in the great tangle of timelines that formed the space-time continuum, there was a thread where Max chose River. There was a thread where Max got up from their chair and went down on one knee in front of them, and in doing so broke every solemn vow and oath of loyalty that they had ever sworn to the military—to Tharis itself. There was a thread where Max pressed River’s palm to their mouth and said I love you, River Gale-Zhou; I swear to you that I will remain loyal to you ’til the end of my days, serve you wholeheartedly, obey your orders, fear no sacrifice, and lay down my life if and when necessary.
This was not that timeline. Instead, Max laid a gentle hand on River’s arm. “Come on; I’ll walk you out.”
The elevator ride was spent in comfortable silence. River hadn’t bothered to reassemble their Aubrey disguise; Max once again had a sudden vision of that other timeline, where everything worked out. Max pushed it down, repulsed with themself.
Max watched River leave through the massive glass doors; something in their brain wouldn’t let them go back to their office until they could be sure River would get back to Songshu alright.
Fucking hell, Max was pathetic. You can’t just throw this all away, they reminded themself. You can’t just doom your House all over again. Fuck you—River must think you’re such a creep, trailing after them like this, fawning over them and their area of study. You ought to be executed by firing squad.
Max grit their teeth, turning away—River was now safe inside the metal-and-glass shell of a House Gale autocar. It’s not one or the other—you’re allowed to be near them. They reminded themself. Be their friend, if they would like. You’re just not allowed to love them.
1Laohu House was a massive glass skyscraper, the epicentre of everything defence-related on Tharsis—admin offices, situation rooms, even the 50-storey military archives below the streets. Max’s Artemis worked here too, sometimes; Niko and Max had full access to one another’s offices and occasionally infuriated the people around them by barging in to bounce ideas off of one another or bitch about their coworkers, relishing the fact that nobody could stop them because they were Colonel Liu and the Speaker of the House respectively.
2Max’s regiment always needed more guns, and so did everyone else. They could have tossed some weight around and gotten the brigade more weaponry in a heartbeat, but they were trying as hard as humanly possible to go through official channels. It counted for something that they were trying.
3The press was merciless, frequently lurking outside Laohu House. People loved Aubrey because of how much more human they seemed than most of the other senators—showing up in almost every celebrity’s social media posts and neglecting your political responsibilities tended to do that to your reputation. Consequently, Max was roped into the nonsense as well, and by and large had to play the game despite finding it ridiculous; they didn’t know a single other officer—even the ones married to socialites—who’d had to do an interview while playing with polar bear cubs. It wasn’t the worst fate in the world, sure—tiny little baby bears! with tiny little baby faces!—but they had a reputation to uphold, damn it!
4River may very well have been wearing a filter to look like Aubrey, but Max doubted it; even if the building hadn’t been filled with internet-connection jammers. They were siblings, after all.
5Deliberate flirting, because Max was a terrible person.