by T. Y. Carew
Beads of sweat converged on Mattie’s temples and began carving a narrow path south. She gritted her teeth and growled, her knuckles tightening on the control lever, eyes never straying from the ship’s monitors. The sweat reached her jawline and dripped onto her collarbone, distracting her. With one swift swipe, she rubbed off the offending stain and returned her attention to the screen.
Out of right field, a small dot advanced toward her location at incredible speed. Mattie adjusted the thrusters’ positioning to take her on a wider loop around the unnamed exoplanet looming in the distance in the hope she’d get to cover before coming within range of whatever it was that seemed to be pursuing her. Who knew, perhaps she was lucky and the blip on her radar was nothing to worry about, just a passing cargo or scout ship, there by some coincidence.
Though she feared worse.
Nothing that day had happened by coincidence, and she could almost bet her life that she’d have to face a Beltine attack ship within minutes. As long as it was only a fighter, she thought she might be all right. Please, not a hive, she prayed wordlessly, not entirely sure to whom. It was too much. She’d taken on far too much work, and she was beginning to realize that pushing herself relentlessly was taking its toll. There was only so much she could fit in between missions aboard the Contessa. Besides, she never really enjoyed flying solo.
Suddenly, the ship shuddered under the fast one-two of heavy fire, smoke began siphoning into the cabin through a narrow fissure on the right wall, and the console came alive with flashing lights and blaring alarms. Mattie squeezed her eyes shut for a split second and let out a loud curse that would have made even Trey blush.
She struggled with the controls, increased the speed and angled the ship back to its original path while at the same time bringing up to the fore of the screen the diagnostic panel. She didn’t have time to fully survey the damage, not while she was under fire, but she could get an idea of the extent of it in a few seconds. While she waited, she engaged in some maneuvers she’d learned from Tyra. The figures of eight made her feel a little sick, but she took no further hits, and that was worth the icky feeling.
A string of major and minor malfunctions together with instructions for quick patch-ups or repairs the onboard computer could initiate without her needing to leave the pilot’s seat began scrolling on the diagnostics screen, and she kept the ship steady for a moment so she could read them. Among the more serious damage was a hit to some hydraulic controls, and the steering seemed to have taken damage on the hit side, but the shield was back up.
She quickly touch-enabled the smaller automatic repairs then followed the on-screen instructions to get the steering fully back online, her eyes on the fast-approaching enemy ship that was now way too close for comfort. A decent rap of heavy laser fire and she’d be toast, she just knew it.
Mattie spent a few seconds thinking it through. She could either pilot the ship or sit in the gunner’s chair; she couldn’t do both. Besides, she really, really wasn’t prepared for close-quarters battle. She didn’t even know exactly what kind of weapons the small ship was equipped with.
That settled it. Her only choice was to put the ship in FTL travel and land her somewhere safe, where she could do a better inspection of the damage and catch up on all the basic info she should have read before she started the engine. The stats scrolled automatically on the screen as soon as the first switch went on, before take-off, but had she taken the time to really take them in? No. More fool her.
Inwardly cursing her inattention, and with renewed focus, Mattie entered a corkscrew avoidance maneuver while pressing the right sequence of buttons for engaging the FTL. The stress levels on the damaged hull would be intense, but Mattie was confident the ship would make it. She’d just punched in the last figures she’d mentally calculated, a second away from actual transit, when the ship shook hard and began listing to one side.
Mattie screamed her frustration as distress beacons blared loud enough to wake the ancient dead at the other end of the galaxy. Strobing red light lit up the small cabin, and the screen went black, showing just a few words in bold red lettering:
STATUS REPORT: MISSION FAILED
“NO! Damn it! Not again!” Mattie screamed as she unbuckled herself from the pilot’s chair and slammed her fist on the console. A loud explosion accompanied her last action, and she was momentarily blinded by the million-watt light burst.
“End of lesson,” a computerized voice announced placidly. “Have a nice day.”
***
The other side of the simulation room door, Tyra chuckled and stood up from her visitor chair. She approached the machine that would churn out the statistical data of today’s lesson, waiting for Mattie to open the door and officially put an end to today’s tutorial.
Which the young woman did in the next moment, slamming the door behind her with a look of thunder on her face. Tyra laughed out loud.
“It’s not funny!” Mattie said, stalking to her side and scanning her pass across the blue-lit screen. The machine immediately began churning its roll of paper.
Tyra slung an arm around Mattie’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “It’s fine. It wasn’t real. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“I don’t have time to get the hang of it! The exam’s in two weeks’ time.”
“Exactly. Plenty of time,” Tyra soothed her. “Let’s see what went wrong today, shall we?” She stretched her hand toward the roll of paper the machine had churned out. Mattie finished scanning through the data before relinquishing the printout to her best Lentarin friend.
“I miscalculated the FTL coordinates.” Matt stamped her foot. “Again! But how was I supposed to concentrate on that when I was under fire? Huh? Who can do that in a real-life situation?”
Still reading, Tyra recited the well-known refrain Mattie was so loathe of by now, “This is an intelligent tutorial, which means it is designed to constantly assess the pilot’s skills and adjust the challenges he or she faces to provide the best opportunity for the improvement of skills in those areas that require most training.”
Mattie made a face behind Tyra that the Lentarin caught in the reflection of a nearby window. She laughed out loud at her human friend’s childish reaction.
“Anyway, you’re getting better all the time. This score is not that bad. If only you got the right figure here, at the end—”
“Yeah, only,” Mattie said, still sulking. She pulled her comm and turned the small device back on.
Tyra let out a loud guffaw. “Oh, come on. Really, it wasn’t so bad. Better than the pod simulation. I mean… I don’t think they have many instances when they have to call in the tech team to reassemble the simulator.” Tyra laughed freely now.
A small smile appeared on Mattie’s face, too. “That’s unfair. The pod had limited maneuverability and I had to land it on rocky terrain. And you know these things have realistic effects.” Mattie’s comm beeped, uploading a string of missed messages.
Tyra laughed harder. “Yep. They do. And you were, unexpectedly, able to tell them exactly what you’d taken apart so they could put it back together again. I know they were thankful for the help.” Mattie’s gaze was still stuck to her comm’s screen. “Anything the matter, my friend?”
Mattie frowned for a second and looked up into her Lentarin friend’s lizard-like face. “I’ve been called to the general’s quarters. That’s the official request. There’s also one from Xander. Says I should be on my best behavior.”
“Hmm,” Tyra said. “New mission?”
“Why would my behavior matter if all we’re going to get is details of our new mission?” Mattie pulled her hair out of its scrunchie, smoothed it with her fingers and tied it back again into its customary ponytail. “And what does Xander know that I don’t?”
Chapter 2
General Kelton wore his dress uniform, which reinforced Mattie’s gut feeling that something wasn’t quite right about this meeting. The general was a stickler for protocol, and Mattie couldn�
��t remember ever having seen him out of his usual uniform on normal work days.
Beside her, Xander was standing ramrod straight, but nothing in his demeanor gave away his thoughts or tension if he had any. Perhaps she was adding two and two and making five, Mattie decided. It wouldn’t be the first time her math skills had let her down that day.
The general covered the distance between the back door to his office and his desk in three long strides. “Sit down, sit down,” he said to them, and the two obeyed wordlessly.
For a moment, the general sat at his desk simply staring at them, his elbows resting on its edge, hands clasped together. He looked like he was weighing them up, or maybe he was trying to find the right words for some piece of bad news, Mattie thought. Getting ahead of myself again.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Captain Adair, Colonel Finlay, I asked you to attend this impromptu meeting through the unofficial channels because I believe you will react better if you are pre-warned.”
“Sir?” Mattie said, stopping before she said more and made a fool of herself. Her stomach churned. That the general had decided they needed prior warning was unsettling enough, but now it really sank in that she was expected to control her reactions… when? Why?
She could only think of one thing that would cause her to lose control of her emotions, and that was if the funding for the Adamanta research her parents had started was cut. Surely this could not be it. The military needed Adamanta. Without it they would be completely at the mercy of Beltine attacks. Humanity in general didn’t stand a chance without the slight edge the use of the rare metal was affording them. Mattie ground her teeth, fighting to stem the spiral of thought making adrenaline flood her bloodstream.
General Kelton fixed her with his stare. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Captain. I feel without the slightest shadow of doubt that the use of Adamanta weapons is the only way our military forces will be able to halt or push back the Beltine assaults. That being said, you will hold your tongue and only speak when you are spoken to when our guests arrive. To do otherwise would be tantamount to assuring our whole species’ suicide.”
Mattie dropped her gaze to the highly polished surface of the general’s desk, feeling like a small child who’s just been caught being naughty.
“To cut a long and extremely painful story short, between the heavy losses sustained by our fighter fleet and the withdrawal of Mr. Simon Dantos from all current contracts, our funds are stretched to breaking point. When the choice is between being able to build and equip two more fighters and funding research—of any description,” he emphasized, seeing Mattie open her mouth to protest, “it’s a no-brainer who will get the money. Not a fair choice, I know, and we are making every effort to encourage investment and cooperation with the Army.” He sighed. “It’s the uncertain climate, I’m sure. Must businessmen would far rather hold back the funds so that they could save themselves and their families if the Beltine threat gets too near than invest in something that may or may not help eradicate the threat at some point in future, maybe not even in their lifetime. You see the problem?” He fixed them both with his penetrating stare.
Xander nodded, and Mattie thought it safer to mirror his behavior.
The general clapped his hands together, making Mattie jump. “So. With that in mind, Captain Adair, I have escalated your promotional campaign. You, and in fact the whole team, Colonel Finlay,” he turned to look at Xander, “will be expected to be far more visible in all promotional events my staff will set up over the foreseeable future. Do I have your unreserved cooperation?”
“Yes, sir,” Mattie responded right away.
Though she didn’t like it, she’d already made peace with the fact that she would have to parade her face and skills in front of people from time to time, but if doing so was the only—or the best—way to ensure continued funding for the research into Adamanta and its properties, she was behind it one hundred percent. To her surprise, Xander sat silently, a vein throbbing in his forehead.
A beat later, he spoke. “Does this mean my team is grounded indefinitely? Sir?” he added in a cold voice that Mattie associated with the onset of a temper outburst. Her gaze drifted over to his hands, now off the table, fists clenched on his thighs. In fact his whole posture was that of a bull about to charge.
And now Mattie understood exactly why the general thought pre-warning them was necessary. If her outburst of temper could be chalked down to being young and not particularly certain of the etiquette, Xander’s would not be subject to misinterpretation. He could lose his job over this, and the general thought enough of him to do all that was in his power to keep him. Not only that, but if the negotiations with any possible investors were still at the early stages, Xander’s tactlessness could mean the deals would fail before they had a chance to be set up.
Under the desk, Mattie stretched her hand to the side and wrapped her fingers over Xander’s fist. He shot her a quick side glance, and she felt his fist relax a little.
“Not indefinitely,” General Kelton said, looking from one to the other. “We couldn’t afford to have a crew as experienced as yours out of action for long.”
Xander gulped audibly. “A crew? What about the Contessa?”
“The ship will be assigned an interim crew and will be used in action as required. As for its crew—your crew—I’ll reassess our needs on a monthly basis.”
“A month?” Xander almost shouted.
“Colonel!”
Xander shook his head and exhaled a long breath. “My apologies, General,” he said, his voice shaking with the struggle to control his temper.
The general nodded once. “Apology accepted. Now, in the room across the hall,” he checked the time on his old-fashioned timepiece, “in about ten minutes’ time, we shall be welcoming four of the potential investors we are grooming at the moment. I urge you, Colonel Finlay and Captain Adair, to afford them your very best welcome and kindest conduct, and for the life of all of us, just say yes to their every request. We really can’t afford to lose them. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they answered in unison.
“Very well,” the general said and stood up. They hastened to stand as well. “Colonel Finlay, are you in control of your emotions yet?”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
Though his voice was composed, Mattie thought Xander’s posture was still a lot stiffer than usual. But the time to work on calming down their mental turmoil had run out, and with a swift “Follow me,” the general led them out of his office and into the reception room where the investors would soon be welcomed.
To lighten the atmosphere, Mattie shot Xander a coy look over her shoulder, playing up the demure image she was expected to assume in front of the media, so thoroughly out of character for her, and asked, “How do I look?” And then she swayed her hips left and right, right in front of him, as she walked out of the room.
Chapter 3
Xander felt his eyes widen as they followed the sweet movement of Mattie’s hips. The little rascal had done it on purpose, he knew it, but at least she’d broken the tension threatening to give him a heart attack.
He smiled while the answer floated to the forefront of his mind.
Good enough to…
He stopped his thought right there, and out loud, he said, “I’m sure the press will lap it up, Captain.” Then he mentally face-palmed. Lap it up? Lap it up? Jeez, Xander, could you be more obvious?
He shook his head, and brought to mind the longest and most boring manual on health and safety procedures on long-haul flights he knew of, to help realign his brain with the image of the composed, media-ready and not-at-all-frustrated-at-being-grounded colonel of the fleet.
Deep down, he knew they needed the funding, whether for fighters or research, he understood the delicate position General Kelton was in, he even recognized the need to use his beloved ship to its maximum potential, but he still didn’t like it. The investors were a necessary evil, and he would treat the
m with as much respect as he was capable of considering that in his eyes they were little more than suffocating weeds, there for no other reason but to help their own position. This symbiosis between the Army and the commercial world was somethin that bothered him deeply.
But what did he know? His skills lay in battle, not in diplomacy and PR.
For two hours, Xander shook hands, smiled kindly and made polite conversation with three of the four investors General Kelton had introduced to him and Mattie. Just as his attention was beginning to waver and the soft drinks and canapés laid out on trays were close to extinction, the fourth investor was seen into the room by the aide tasked with visitor reception. He felt his eyes bug out, and Mattie froze by his side, confirming she was just as taken aback by this new apparition.
“What is she doing here?” Mattie asked in a whisper. Xander’s thoughts had frozen on the ‘How did she get away with murder’ loop.
She walked into the room, red gauzy scarf brushing the other guests as she made straight for Kelton. Doctor Evelyn Cardew stretched out her hand and shook his with a crooked smile on her alluring, flawless face, now rimmed by a mane of red and black striped hair.
“General. So very pleased to have been able to make it. Better late than never, right?” She flashed him a set of chemically whitened teeth and turned to Xander and Mattie.
“Miss Adair,” she said and brushed right past Xander, walking into Mattie’s personal space as if she were no more than a statue to be admired. “Adamanta!” she said with relish. Her hand lingered over Mattie’s shoulder and stroked down her arm, then both her bejeweled hands went up to Mattie’s shoulders, bracelets jangling around her wrists, and she angled her head as if admiring a work of art. To her credit, Mattie didn’t move a muscle, though Xander could tell her smile was as fake as he’d ever seen on her face.
“This is Captain Adair,” the general said unnecessarily, “and Colonel Finlay.”
The Red Lady tilted her head to Xander momentarily, still holding onto Mattie. “Colonel,” she said, then turned back to her original focus. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I feel for my little… ah, misstep. Not the first impression I had hoped for. Can we wipe the slate clean and start again? Please. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
