Full Metal Heroine: A Military Space Opera Adventure (Lady Hellgate Book 2)
Page 30
Free-fall had been the closest she’d come to actual flying without having to sit in the belly of massive war machine. Happiness was that drop, the adrenaline from jumping out of the Vixen, then deploying your wings and fighting back against gravity trying to kill you.
During those brief moments of happiness, there were no dark thoughts of the past. She didn’t think of her role, or how to conduct herself as an officer, and she didn’t worry about her brother who she hadn’t seen in over a decade. All that mattered was feeling and sensation, hope that it would never end, and laughter unlike she had ever laughed before.
Helga’s face loosened, and her muscles relaxed, allowing her to open her eyes and face him. “Cilas, if you ask me how I am doing one more time, I don’t care if I spend the rest of my life in the brig, I’m going to punch you in the mouth.”
“Sorry,” he said, awkwardly. “I do ask that a lot, don’t I? Look, Helga, there were no civilians in that camp. The oasis made it beautiful, but the things I saw inside that building … they were pretty damn ugly. Right now, the captains are speaking to the Meluvian government about their part in everything that went on. There are so many layers to this that it hurts my head to try and process it. Human trafficking, terror on planets, spacers defecting, and that’s just scratching the surface. What we did down there in taking out that camp? We may have saved Meluvia. For that you should be proud. You’re their hero in a PAS suit. Their full metal heroine, inside and out.”
“That explosion was unreal,” Helga said, staring down at her scuffed-up shoes. “If that is what one of our weapons can do to a city, we cannot let another Joran Wolf happen.” She shook her head ruefully, thinking of the town where the MLF had killed so many people. “To think that one of us is capable of this, Cilas, it makes me unsure of the process. BLAST was meant to tear us down and rebuild us as tools for the Alliance. How does a Joran Wolf come from that?”
“You and I would never do that,” Cilas said, matter-of-factly. “Neither would Cage have been capable, nor Lamia, Wyatt, Varnes, and Cruser. None of the Nighthawks who came before you. The Ocelots, I didn’t know them, but I know that they were ESOs, which meant they went through the same training that we did.”
Except the Ocelots didn’t have Retzo Sho as their captain, Helga thought. The Aqnaqak had the reputation for fighting, but the Rendron loved their leader. “Brise Sol wouldn’t do it either,” she added, noticing that he skipped over the one member who he didn’t like. Brise was a passionate Nighthawk who didn’t hesitate to call Cilas out, and due to this—and Cilas’s belief that the man was a coward—Brise resigned from the Navy.
“Yeah, Brise, Tutt, Lei, and Ahmad.” He made a V-shape with his hands and moved them up below his chin. It was a Vestalian gesture, which was meant to honor the dead. “No Nighthawk brother or sister would be capable of becoming a Joran Wolf. I hope his exposure is a long and painful one when they fire him out of that airlock.”
There was an awkward silence as they both sat staring at the ground, unwilling to broach the subject of their tension. Helga’s energy was sapped, and her mind a typhoon of complications. She just wanted to sleep. Not here on the Aqnaqak but somewhere familiar, where she could feel loved.
As if reading her mind, Cilas put his arm around her shoulders, and she let him pull her in as she slipped her arm around his waist. It felt inappropriate, but she no longer cared. Right now he was the only family that she had. He was familiar, warm, and though he badly needed a shower, he was the best guardian that a sleepy half-alien girl could ask for.
She placed her head on his shoulder and she thought she felt his lips on the top of her head.
Did he just kiss me? she thought, closing her eyes as the sensation lingered. She began to feel different, as if all of the rage had been replaced with nothing. There were no thoughts, memories, or fears, just Cilas’s racing heart and the warmth of his embrace.
Helga adjusted her body to lay on her side as she pulled her feet up on the bench. They sat like that for a long time, two broken ships seeing each other to shore, and for the first time in what felt like a year, Helga Ate truly slept.
About The Author
GREG DRAGON brings a fresh perspective to fiction by telling human stories of life, love and relationships in a science fiction setting. This unconventional author spins his celestial scenes from an imagination nurtured from being an avid reader himself. His exposure to multiple cultures, multiple religions, martial arts, and travel lends a unique dynamic to his stories.
See Greg’s author page at gregdragon.com or keep up with his latest books and appearances through email.