by E M Garcia
Without warning, Daq’usk of Ithil reached for my hand. I felt a pins and needles sensation crawl up my skin. It was strange, but not unpleasant.
“I promise you will be fine,” he said. “I have perfect aim.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Just do it, before I chance my mind.”
Suddenly, the green skinned man wrapped hist arm around my waist and plucked the thermal cutter from my hand. I stiffled a gasp of mingled surprise and pleausre as he moved me over the half-cut opening. A soft [sound] filled the tunnel as he cut through the last of the steel.
“Spread on impact. Make it hurt,” he said, and then he dropped me.
As it turns out, you don’t get a lot of time to think when you fall thirty feet through a hole in a steel ceiling. My first and most insistent thought was something along the lines of oh shit. My second, which popped up just about the time my brain registered that I was flying at high speed toward an guy holding an assault rifle, was an echo of Shadow’s words. Spread and make it hurt.
I flattened my body in the last possible second, using th emomentum of my fall to push the leader off his feet. Instinct took over. Once the guy was under me, I punched and clawed. I went for his eyes, his throat, every soft spot I could remember from combat training now a decade past it’s prime. His face started to give, releasing a spray of blood over my knuckles. I kept punching.
A firm, soft hand took me by the arm and pulled me away from my bloodied opponent.
“Easy there, Ma’am,” a boombing and highly bemused voice on my right said. “I think he’s had enough.”
I looked up to see the chocolate brown, slightly furred skin [Species] stared down at me, the shit eating grin on his face only matched by the michevious twinkle in his eye. The room behind him swayed and lurched. I stumbled against him, letting my face rest against his warm, fuzzy bare chest. I didn’t give a damn who he was, he was sturdy enugh to keep me on my feet.
“Tam? Sweet hell, woman, how the hell did you get up there?” A familiar voice asked with notes of panic. The genuine emotion in Gale’s voice was almost too touching for me to pull away this time. It also didn’t hurt that I was sure if I moved, I would hit the floor. For real this time.
“She fell from the ceiling,” a third voice said, the note of disapproval in his voice breaking through my daze. It belonged to a blond with a close cropped buzz cut and haggard face that bore the deep wrinkles earned from too many fire fights. “Bet she had help. What’s you’re name, Ma’am?”
“Tam Cage,” I whispered.
As I looked around, I realized why Daq’usk of Ithil had been so sure he only needed to create an opening The entire strike team lay on the tiled black floor. A few were restrained cuff made from improvised strips of fancy fabric; most were unconscious. Three men stood over them, their backs to their fallen enemies as they stared at the girl who had fallen out of the ceiling.
Alix Barnes, Galeon Howard, The Lady, and Xaveer the Demon. The Wreckers, most of them at least.
5
Being a hero wasn't always cracked up to be. There was another debriefing, this one more thorough than the last. Another couple of hours spent in a room with station security, explaining everything I remembered. No matter how many times I told the story of meeting Daq’usk of Ithil in the escape tunnels or how we came to be over the main dance floor at exactly the right time, the look of wonder never left their eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were impressed with my nerve or jealous that I had met the station’s greatest heroes. I would have believed either.
I didn't really have time to think about it after the incident at the Gala.
By the time I left security head quarters , it was approaching 0500 station time. I had been on the station for sixteen hours and I hadn’t slept a wink of it. I needed a bed and a blanket like nobody had needed anythng in the history of the universe, but I couldn’t go back to J’Selle’s without getting an eyeful of her and her knew boyfriend. Meeting my brother’s replacement should definitely be left to a day when I hadn’t been thrown through a hole in a ceiling, even if I had promised to give him a chance.
Fortunately, Izzy took pity on me. She gave me half her bed and a use of her shower, with a set of the softest pajamas I had ever worn thrown in. Best of all, she didn’t ask me any questions.
Over the course of the next morning we had breakfast and juice and a few laughs. We watched stupid videos and documentaries of ancient fashion—at Izzy’s insistence. The only thing we didn’t watch was the news. Neither of us wanted to relieve it. By the time I left Izzy’s hotel room and headed for the restaurant where I was supposed to meet the Admiral for dinner, I was actually feeling okay. Maybe even slightly optimistic. J’Selle was moving on, but so was I, Admiral’s moves on my behalf had yeilded any fruit. I’d have a new friends and a new job to keep me busy enough not to go too far into my feelings. When I had time to breath, it might not sting so much. Hell, I might even be able to avoid a long engagement on Aurora every year.
It was amazing the lies I could tell myself when I needed to believe them.
I walked toward the restaurant wearing the bare shouldered cocktail dress Izzy had worn to the Gala the night before. Trust my friend to make it through a hostage crisis without so much as a smudge in her galactic couture. With the tight cut and embroidered fabric, I was sure I would be overdressed for any place the Admiral would set foot in, but the hostess was in a similarly elaborate cocktail dress.
“Reservation?” She asked, taking a second to look me up and down. Her nose wrinkled in a barely veiled judgement of my attire. So much for my temporary fashion reprieve.
“Yes, it be under Westbrook. Archer Westbrook.” I could barely hold back a smile of satisfaction as the hostess’s eyes widened.
A veteran of two interstellar wars and countless incidents, Admiral Westbrook had earned deference the hard way, through many thankless years putting his ass on the line on behalf of the galaxy. The Terran Federation Fleet only survived the Battle of Aurora because of his shrewd battle commands. The name Westbrook was far more impressive than the name Cage, if you made it your business to know the movers and shakers of the galaxy. Uncle Archer also happened to be my father’s closest friend when he was alive. He had looked in on Jack and me our entire lives. Now that I was grown and traveling on behalf of the Galactic Alliance, a citizenship switch he never quite forgave me for, we only met once a year for dinner.
The hostess cleared her throat. “The Admiral and his guest are down this way.”
“Guest,” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “Any idea who he might be?” As a rule, the Admiral never brought anyone to his dinners with me. Once, I had made the mistake of bringing Izzy along. It was the only time I had ever seen her struggle to make conversation.
The hostess giggled softly as slipped out from behind her counter. “Just that he’s dreamy.”
If I didn’t know better, I would have said the hostess wished I were behind the counter and she were the one spending the night eating meat and drinking with the war heroes. I wished he same thing. It couldn’t have been Gale. He wouldn’t have been able to resist dropping his name and rank to the girl the second he saw her. Who could it be? However it was, the last thing I wanted that evening was to make small talk with a stranger.
The hostess led me down a small corridor and paused to pass her hand in front of the door to one of the private dining rooms. A wave of charred meat, treated wood, and pine sap wafted from the room and slammed me in the face. Some of it was the clean, fresh scent was from the air scrubbers but some had to be from the little plants suspended from the ceiling and recessed in the walls.
The Admiral stood to his full height and grabbed me in a viselike bear hug. It would have taken my breath away were I not use to were I not accustomed to it from a lifetime of them.
“There she is! Tammy Cage, the woman of the hour!” He clapped me on the back with such force that a normal woman would've been nearly knocked off her feet, but with my reinforced
skeleton I barely felt the rumble of it in my chest. “I always knew my girl was a hero.”
“Hardly a hero, and definitely not the woman of the hour,” I said, sweeping the room for whoever he had brought along.
“Don't listen to her, Admiral,” He said as I laid eyes on the blond man sitting in the corner. “She saved our asses last night.”
The hostess may have been dazzled by his chiseled jaw and the thick muscles visible below his casual uniform, but I would have known that face anywhere. Alixer Barnes.
I smiled, relief washing over me that I couldn’t help but let show. “Lieutenant Barnes here and the rest of the Wreckers had the situation under control. All I did was give the reporters some good footage.”
Alix shook hIzzyad and lifted his chin towards me. “Take it from an old soldier, when you save a life, you should honor it. When you save a room full of ‘em, you should have a damn party.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” The Admiral said, clapping me on the back again. “Press that button, Tammy. I want a bottle of wine and another Strekháni whiskey. Tastes like sugary battery acid, but it does the job best.”
I rolled my eyes and did as he asked then extended a hand out to Alixer. “LT, it’s been a long time. Come to think of it, is it even the right rank or did the nickname stick?”
He snorted as we shook hands. “Any callsign that came from Jack stuck like glue, but nobody much calls me that anymore. Alix is fine, or Alixer if you’re feeling formal.”
“I’ll call you Alix if you call me Tam. And if you don't mention my entrance last night again, I’ll be your fan forever.”
“There’s no way I’m taking that request,” Westbrook said with a loud belch. “Superior officer’s prerogative.”
“Uncle Archer, please? Between the fall and the dock, I’ve had all the attention I can stand for awhile.”
The Admiral sniffed and slid back into his chair. “That business at the dock was a fucking disgrace. I tell you Tammy, you can stomp for the Alliance all you want, but we all know if the Federation had taken control of station security, that bomb would never have gone off.”
My anger started to bubble. “I saw the trigger man, Uncle Archer. He was a Terran with a swirl tattoo on his neck. We both know he wouldn’t have had any trouble passing through a TF check point.”
The Admiral’s blazing green eyes fixed on me, target locked and loaded. He brought the tumbler up to his lips and took a sip. The ice-stone clinked against the side, splashing the liquid against his cheek as he drained the glass. I wasn’t sure who he was more pissed at, me or his drink.
The door slid open and a waitress shuffled into the room. “Something I can get for you or your guests, Admiral Westbrook?”
Uncle Archer didn’t even acknowledge her. The second she left the room, he would rain hellfire down on my head. I knew better than to cast suspicions on the Federation in front of him but, for some reason, I hadn’t been able to help myself. Somehow, spending time with my family, the half of my trip to Aurora I had been most looking forward to, was proving the hardest to navigate.
“All right, Iron-hide,” Alix said, deflating the tension in the room. He poured the last of the bottle on the table into the Admiral’s empty glass. “We’re gonna need a bottle of wine, Miss, fast as you can get it here.”
“Tea for me,” I said. “Terran green.”
The Admiral, as always, tutted in disapproval at my choice of drink. “And where’s our damn meals? A man can’t talk politics on an empty stomach.”
“No politics tonight,” Alix said. The waitress took the chance to disappear before the Admiral set his sights on her again. I didn't “This is a celebration isn’t it?”
Uncle Archer stood and wandered to the panel in the wall. He punched the buttons and grumbled about spoiled fun until music came through the speakers.
“He far into that bottle was he when I got here?” I asked as Uncle Archer clapped his hands and swiveled his hips to the beat.
Alix pursed his lips and raised and eyebrow. “Counting the one in the glass? The whole bottle. I take it the GA/TF stuff is a nerve?”
I nodded. “One that gets red and raw when he’s had a few too many.”
He cast a sideways glance at the Admiral, chewing his bottom lip slightly. “Relax, I’ve got this.”
Alix slid from the chair and climbed to his feet, whooping as he joined the Admiral in his dance. The barely paused to grab their drinks when the waitress came back. Any time Uncle Archer started to ease back toward the table, Alix caught his attention with another move or a dance challenge. By the time the food arrived, including a steak three times bigger than my stomach could hold, both men were too tired and hungry for conversation.
I was so relieved to have the heat off me for the rest of dinner, I didn’t get around to asking Uncle Archer about my transfer, the same question I asked him every year. As he finished his meal, Alix wiped his mouth and excused himself from the trouble. It was now or never.
“Any news on that thing I asked you about?”
The Admiral turned his eyes to the ceiling as he chewed the last of his meat. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you, girl?”
I shrugged. “You wouldn’t respect me if I did. Only politicians and diplomats use small talk, right?”
“You are a diplomat,” he said with a snort.
“Not if you have some good news for me.” But the Admiral’s eyes tightened at the corners, the surest sign of bad news there was.
“Sorry Tammy,” he said. “There's just no moving you out of the GA. Hell, I can’t even get you out of the diplomatic corp. I’ve called in every favor I’ve got and offered a few I couldn't afford. Everybody’s pretty happy with you staying put.”
I took a sip of tea to wash the taste of defeat out of my mouth. My record for transfer attempts was zero for three, and if Uncle Archer had started throwing favors around, he was bringing out the big guns on my behalf. If I couldn’t get out of the Alliance, I couldn’t get off the Cal.
“Well, at least I’ll definitely be available for dinner next year,” I said, setting the mug to the side and my napkin on the table. “And the one after that. And the one after that.”
“Don’t look at me, girl. I tried to talk you out of this damned fool assignment. But you had to go be a martyr.”
I sighed and rubbed my temples. “It’s wasn’t like that and you know it. Jack deserved to have people remember him. This was the best way to make sure that happened.”
“And you deserved better.” The Admiral drained his drink and climbed to his feet. He bent down and pecked me on the cheek then strode to the door on steady feet. His nanotech would burn through the last of the alcohol before he got wherever he was going. “You and Alix have dessert. I’ll tell the waitress to send me the bill.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes once the doors slide closed behind him. The argument had been my position for so long, the words sprang to my lips automatically, but I wasn’t sure they were true anymore. The frenzy at the dock and the Gala proved that the galaxy remembered Jack and his Wreckers. How they handled the chaos that erupted proved they still had what it took to live up to his legacy. Nobody needed me to hold a candle for Jackson Cage, but damned if I could find a way out.
“Where’s Ironhide,” Alix asked, pulling me from my miserable thoughts.
“Off to the next meeting, probably. It’s no big deal, dinner always ends this way.” I forced a smile to my face and stood. “The Admiral said order whatever you want for desert.”
“Hang on,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “Let me walk you home, at least.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a few stops to make before I head back to J’Selle’s.” I couldn’t help but smile at his old world charm. It wasn’t cute enough to keep me from walking to the door and sliding my hand over the panel. I paused and looked over my shoulder at him. “It really was good to see you again, LT.”
I ditched the
heels as soon as I stepped out of the restaurant, opting to make the walk back to J’selle’s barefoot for the sake of comfort. I didn’t even realize that’s where I was going until the words left my mouth, but it felt right. Everyone else was moving on, it was time for me to do the same. If this was going to be my life, I might as well live it.
By the time I got to her door, I was feeling not quite optimistic, but not as cynical as I had the night before. I pressed my thumb to her door panel, taking a breath and focusing on doing whatever it took in the next few minute to make my sister happy.
“Lights on,” I whispered as I stepped into the foyer. The bulbs switched on, taking the room from pitch black to full illumination in a microsecond. A figure on the couch hissed in pain. His hands flew up to protect his eyes as he rolled off the couch and to the floor. In the blur, I caught a clear glimpse of a bare green chest. “Shit, lights off!”
6
I rushed over to the couch and crouched down next to the familiar figure, Daq’usk of Ithil. He lay on the ground, his bare chest pressed against the carpet as he writed in pain.
“Sorry about that,” I said, reaching out to help him to his feet. His green skin was cool beneath my hand. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to—”
He tried to move away. "No, don't!"
Too late. My vision went black. Daq shouted for me in the distance, but I could barely hear him. I wasn’t in J’Selle’s living room with him any more. I wasn’t even on Aurora Station. A damp network of caves surrounded me. Somehow, I knew the network extended far beneath the surface of the planet for miles in every direction. An entire civilization thrived in the jagged, narrow tunnels. The Knaewa knew nothing of the world outside. Awful things happened to Knaewa who ventured outside.
"Not here...." Daq'usk's voice echoed off the rock walls, but he was nowhere to be found.
