End Game

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “About the future…”

  Hawk regarded her warily. “Yes?”

  She wasn’t sure if she should press him for anything now, but when might she ever see him again? It wasn’t as if admirals—or senators—spent time with freighter captains on a regular basis. “I was wondering if I—and my crew—” she thought of Leonidas, “—will be able to run freight after this. Without worrying about wanted posters and being hunted by Alliance police and soldiers.”

  “Ah.” The wariness faded, and he looked relieved.

  What had he thought she would ask? For medals? Money? Stickers? She just wanted a relatively safe life for her and her daughter. And Leonidas.

  “The charges against you were already dropped,” he said.

  “Oh? There wasn’t a memo.”

  “We’ve been a touch distracted of late.”

  “And, uhm, what about Leonidas?” Alisa asked.

  Once, he’d said he’d allow Tiang to perform Leonidas’s surgery if he agreed to join the Alliance, and there’d been the implication that any wanted posters out for him would disappear, but Leonidas had said no.

  “If he doesn’t make trouble for us, we don’t see any reason to bother him,” Hawk said.

  “Excellent. I’ll tell him.” She was tempted to hug him but doubted that would be appropriate. “We weren’t planning on it. Trouble, that is. We’re looking forward to a sedate future.”

  “I’m not sure I believe that,” Hawk said, looking at Stanislav, who smiled serenely, “but I’ll withhold judgment for now.” He waved at his soldiers and pointed them to the airlock. “Let’s go, men. I have a dreadful casualty report to write up.”

  “Won’t Admiral Agosti be responsible for that, sir?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m responsible for everything these days. The perks of the position I thought I wanted.” Hawk headed for the airlock, his limp more pronounced than usual. Someone else who was unbearably weary.

  “Is he staying here, sir?” One of the soldiers pointed at Stanislav.

  “I expect so,” Hawk said without looking back.

  “Thank you, sir,” Alisa called after him. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was thanking him for—showing up in time to help maybe, or for not searching her ship—but it seemed appropriate. She followed after the soldiers, so she could close the hatch, relieved that they were going to leave so easily.

  “One more thing, Marchenko,” Hawk said, turning in the airlock to hold up a finger and look at her.

  Alisa gulped, afraid he might be reconsidering the search. “Yes, sir?”

  “Tell your chef that my soon-to-be father-in-law will be in touch. Admiral Tiang is quite adamant that your man cater his daughter’s wedding.” Hawk’s eyebrow twitched. He hadn’t, after all, sampled any of Beck’s offerings yet.

  “I’ll let him know, sir. I’m sure he would be honored. I’m also sure he would love to get an endorsement from a senator.”

  “Endorsement?”

  “Yes, he’s starting a barbecue sauce empire. If you offer him glowing remarks, they may end up on a label somewhere.”

  Hawk slumped against the airlock wall. “This has been an odd couple of months.”

  “No argument from me, sir.” She smiled and closed the hatch, hitting the button to cycle the lock. Best to get them out of here before they could think up another reason why they might want to search the ship.

  Once they were gone, she, too, slumped against the wall. “Did you convince him to leave without searching the ship?” she asked Stanislav, glancing at Abelardus, making the question for him too.

  Abelardus shook his head.

  “Not me,” Stanislav said. “He’s fairly certain you have the prince on board and didn’t want to find him with his men watching on, because then, he would have felt forced to do something about it.”

  “So is Thorian to remain wanted for the rest of his life?” Alisa’s thoughts of keeping him aboard, adding him to the family, and letting him have a semblance of a normal life crumbled a little. “That’s disappointing.”

  One of the chickens squawked from its coop. Agreement?

  Stanislav shrugged in answer to the question. “Perhaps in a few years, people will forget about him. Hawk didn’t want to see him thrown in some Alliance prison, or worse, just because he’s a kid. And he’s praying he didn’t make the wrong decision about that.”

  “Understandable,” Alisa said. “Well, now that they’re gone, who wants to go visit a sexy cyborg?”

  “I’d rather pick lint out of my bellybutton,” Abelardus said.

  “A hobby that’s sure to further endear Young-hee to you.”

  “I’m ready to visit him,” Stanislav said, managing a tired smile.

  Epilogue

  The smell of hay tickled Alisa’s nose, and even though she loved being in space, she couldn’t help but luxuriate in the warm rays of the suns beating against her face. Thanks to its prime place in orbit around Rebus, Upsilon Seven had been designated as an agricultural world before the colony ships had even left Old Earth. The bluegrass prairies and brilliant blue-green sky stretched for miles, broken only by the cottonwood trees meandering along the river running past the stable.

  The sunny, earthy air felt especially fine after the sickness Alisa, Jelena, and the others had endured on the way here, thanks to their radiation exposure and Alejandro’s concoctions for cleaning toxins from the body. Alisa inhaled deeply, reminded of horse rides here as a child with her mother and also of visiting Jonah’s kin on his family’s farm back on Perun. A twinge of nostalgia came to her, and she lamented that he wasn’t here to show Jelena the basics of riding a horse.

  A thoughtful “hm” came from behind her, and Leonidas walked out of the stable, carrying a saddle. He, too, had spent long days recovering from their battle, but he had lost most of his ashen appearance. “I didn’t realize this would be a do-it-yourself affair.”

  “It’s a working ranch,” Alisa said. “Thousands of head of snagor out there. The tourists come down to experience the authenticity of choosing and saddling their own horses.”

  “You got to choose your horse?”

  “I pointed at the mild-mannered pony munching grass in the field. Henry said he’d bring her out with the others.” Alisa waved to the ground where her blanket and saddle rested.

  “Henry,” Leonidas said, twisting his mouth and giving the name an odd emphasis, “said he would choose an appropriate mount for me.”

  “Oh? Jelena got to pick hers. Despite Henry’s choking noises at the towering black stallion she picked. I was fairly certain he would object—I was certainly on the verge of objecting—but then the huge horse trotted over, stopped in front of her, and lowered his nose so she could pet it. They gazed into each other’s eyes like they had an understanding. Henry said he’d never seen anything like it. I decided not to mention that my daughter is a Starseer in training and apparently likes telepathing with animals more than with people.”

  “Telepathing?”

  “She assured me it’s a word. Among Starseers. I hope she’ll be all right on the big horse. It’ll be a long drop if she falls off. I would have preferred a mare. Or a nice sedate gelding.”

  “Don’t underestimate geldings,” Leonidas murmured.

  “No? I hear they’re docile and easy to lead.” She grinned at him—it wasn’t as if anyone could call him one of those anymore.

  “I don’t know about docile.”

  “Have you seen your horse yet? That’s a huge saddle Henry gave you.”

  Leonidas looked down at the snagor-hide item. In his brawny arms, it did not appear oversized, but Alisa would have been dragging it along behind her if she’d had to tote it around.

  “He said he’d bring it out. Once he caught it. It sounded like that might be challenging.” Leonidas’s lips thinned as he looked around the front of the stable, perhaps searching for this challenging horse.

  Ostberg and his parents—Alisa had offered t
o pick them up on Cleon Moon and give them a ride back to their home on Demeter—were chatting with Henry by the corral and choosing horses for the ride. Young-hee’s, Abelardus’s, and Thorian’s voices drifted out from the stable. Alejandro and Stanislav had chosen to stay aboard the Nomad. Alisa kept hoping Alejandro would choose to depart, but she was beginning to get the feeling that he intended to stay with Thorian, wherever the prince ended up going. Alisa had offered to let him stay on her ship. Last she had heard, Stanislav, Leonidas, and Alejandro had been discussing Emperor Markus’s dying wishes and what would be appropriate. She didn’t know if anyone had asked Thorian where he wanted to live.

  “Where did Jelena go?” Leonidas asked. “She wasn’t in the stable.”

  “Gift shop,” Alisa said. “Something caught her eye, and I told her she could charge a few tindarks to the Nomad. Mica’s repair list will probably break my piggy bank, but I’ve already got some cargo lined up on Demeter. Assuming there’s room in the hold.” She sighed. “Yumi and Mica and Beck eschewed horseback riding and went out to purchase ducks and geese.”

  “The aquaponics tank is unfinished, I know, but it’s not taking up much room.”

  “You haven’t seen it when it unfurls.”

  “Unfurls?”

  “I don’t know what else to call it. Mica designed it so that it can all be sealed in when we’re in a battle or in danger of losing gravity, a true tank if you will, but when everything is normal, there’s an actual pool that pops out that the fowl can wade in.”

  “Fancy.”

  “I feel like my crew is more eccentric than most,” Alisa said.

  “Like attracts like.” His eyes crinkled.

  “I should slap you for that, but your giant saddle is in the way.”

  “It’s good that I’m protected then. I was wondering if I should wear my armor for this adventure.”

  “For horseback riding? I’m sure even the mildest mare would shy away from a man clanking about in combat armor and looking fierce.”

  “I don’t clank.”

  “No objection to the fierce part?”

  “No, if imperial combat armor didn’t look fierce, the designers wouldn’t have had their jobs for long.”

  Alisa leaned companionably against him, glad he wasn’t in his armor. She much preferred to be able to feel him through his clothes—or without his clothes. She grinned at the thought, though feeling Leonidas sans clothes still wasn’t happening that often. Fortunately, Jelena seemed to be getting used to him, so Alisa had hopes for the future.

  “How have your nightmares been?” she asked, looking up at his face, wondering if her hopes should include sharing a bed for more than sex in the future.

  “They are… still present, but I do believe they’ve been less frequent since the surgery. Perhaps the past will cease haunting me so much in time…” He lifted a shoulder.

  “In time? Such as in time for your honeymoon?” she asked, smiling.

  They hadn’t broached the subject of weddings and honeymoons much yet, and his eyebrows drifted upward. Would he object? Alisa had thought weddings had been implied when he’d spoken of having a family.

  “I should not like to rush anything,” he said, and she thought he meant the wedding until he added, “Perhaps by our second or third anniversary, it would be safe to share a bed for more than… recreational purposes.”

  “Three years after the marriage is usually about the time couples want to stop sharing beds,” Alisa said dryly. “You don’t snore, do you?”

  He squinted at her. “Of course not. Cyborgs have enhanced nostrils, after all.”

  “That could just mean you snore extremely loudly.”

  “I do not.”

  “I guess I’ll find out. In three years. That’s about the time I expect to get my needlepoint battlefield.”

  His squint relaxed into an easy smile. “Actually, I’ve started on that. It’s not a battlefield.”

  “No? What is it?”

  “You’ll have to wait until I finish to find out.”

  “I guess I should be excited that I have so many things to look forward to during my future with you.”

  “You should,” he said agreeably and squeezed her shoulder before letting her go and stepping away.

  Alisa was about to ask why he’d moved, but a cheerful cry came from behind them.

  “I found some!”

  Jelena ran out of the gift shop at the side of the stable, waving a stack of papers or something similar in her hand. She grinned as she came up between Alisa and Leonidas. Alisa was pleased that she didn’t try to use her as a shield or otherwise put some obstacle between her and Leonidas.

  “What did you find?” Alisa asked.

  “Stickers,” Jelena said. “For his combat armor.”

  Leonidas blinked slowly. He hadn’t forgotten that deal he had made with Jelena, had he? She smirked at him. How fierce would he feel with stickers slapped all over his armor?

  “They mostly had horses,” Jelena said, starting to show them her new collection, “but I found puppies and kittens too.” She paused and held up a large kitten sticker.

  “That’s bigger than I was imagining,” Alisa said, watching Leonidas out of the corner of her eye, noting the stricken expression on his face. She, of course, was tickled. If he wouldn’t paint his armor pink, this was the next best thing.

  “Because he’s so big.” Jelena looked up at Leonidas as if she were peering into the branches of some lofty tree. “Will you let me decorate your armor?”

  Leonidas stood utterly still, as if he’d gone into shock. Finally, he met Alisa’s eyes, searching for some escape. A breeze whispered through, tugging at the giant kitten sticker. All Alisa did was lift her eyebrows. He had made a promise.

  “One sticker,” Leonidas said.

  Jelena frowned.

  “At a time,” he amended. “More stickers, and I might look… uhm… evil pirates might not be scared away by me, and they’d be more likely to take over the freighter and steal your mother’s cargo.”

  “But you can beat them up and throw them out the door if they do that. Like with the miners. I saw you on the cameras.” She smiled brightly. “Six stickers. And I get to pick them and where they go.”

  “Two stickers, and that can’t be one of them.” He pointed at the huge one—it would take up some impressive real estate on his chest piece if he allowed it. “That one is nice.” He shifted his finger toward a small puppy frolicking in what looked to be the grass in front of the stable. The top of the sticker read: Magnuson Horse Boarding and Ranch. “Maybe Henry would pay me for advertising his establishment.”

  “You can barely see the puppy,” Jelena said, shifting through her stack. “Two stickers is so few. I don’t know…”

  “Two,” Leonidas said firmly.

  “One has to be the big one then. Look at the kitten. She’s so sweet. And adorable. Look at those eyes!”

  “The only place it would fit—”

  “Is on your chest,” Jelena said brightly. “It’ll be perfect. And this one with the two orange kittens can go on your back. So people who aren’t evil pirates will know you’re nice.” She grinned. “On both sides.”

  “I…” Leonidas shifted the saddle to one arm so he could rub the back of his neck.

  Alisa had never seen him speechless before. Well, he had mentioned wanting a family of his own. Surely, this was a good preview of what that might entail.

  She bumped his arm with the back of her hand. “Jelena thinks you’re nice,” she pointed out. “Surely, it’s worth a sticker here and there to foster that feeling. Besides, they’ll probably come off the first time you put your armor in its case for a cleaning.”

  “Come off?” Jelena asked with a frown.

  “It’s a good thing you got a whole stack.” Alisa winked at her. “You can rotate them.”

  “Oh, good idea.”

  Leonidas turned toward the stable door. Thorian was walking out, also with a saddle in hi
s arms. His face was as solemn as always, and Alisa wondered if he would ever get a chance to be a kid and perhaps learn to smile. He hadn’t spoken much to any of them about his ordeal on Tymoteusz’s ship—the merest hint of the topic made his lips press together and his entire face pinch in pain. At least today should be fun for him.

  “Thor.” Jelena waved the stack of stickers. “Come see what we’re going to put on Leonidas’s armor.”

  “Stickers?” Thorian’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his shaggy hair. Alisa was going to have to take him aside for a haircut while the men debated his future. “He’s an imperial cyborg officer. He should look fearsome and professional.”

  Leonidas’s eyebrows also lifted. With hope, Alisa thought. Did he think Thorian might gainsay Jelena? And that she would actually listen to him if he did?

  “He’s my mom’s security officer now,” Jelena said. “That means he has to wear whatever uniform she thinks is best. And my mom likes stickers.”

  Thorian looked at Alisa. He might only be ten years old, but the hint of an accusation in his eyes made her want to squirm.

  She cleared her throat and said, “I first suggested that he paint his armor pink, actually. Stickers seemed more reasonable.”

  “Pink?” Thorian stared at her, then at Leonidas, and finally looked at Jelena—and the stickers in her hand. “I like that one.”

  Leonidas rubbed the back of his neck again.

  Alisa hugged him. “Just think about how humiliating it will be for the pirates to be beaten up by a man covered in stickers.”

  “Yes, it’s the pirates’ humiliation that I was thinking of,” he said, but he managed a wry smile.

  “Who’s ready to ride?” Ostberg asked, heading toward their group and now leading a horse. He had lost a few pounds during his weeks in the regen tank, but he was walking without a limp or any sign of pain. Alisa was certain Beck’s cookies would help those pounds return before long.

  “Do you know how?” Thorian asked, regarding the brown gelding Ostberg led. It was a tall one, to match his own gangly height.