“Then she just pushed herself to the very limits,” Serrado finished. “For me.” She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “And I wouldn’t let her go. She said she couldn’t do it anymore. Shek, I thought it was paradise and she was draining herself. Why didn’t she tell me how hard that would be for her?”
Because she was looking for absolution, Micah thought. And judging by the captain’s reaction, she’d found it.
“As a rule,” he said, “warriors don’t like to admit that anything could be hard for them. And Lancer Tal is the leader of our caste.”
“In other words, you’re all brickheads and she’s the most brickheaded of all? Now that I can understand.”
“Lancer Tal is your oath holder now,” Gehrain said reprovingly. “And she gave you a rare gift. She deserves your respect.”
“She has it.” Serrado’s eyes narrowed just before she poked Gehrain in the chest. “But let’s talk about you. How much respect did it take to abuse Trooper Blunt’s feelings for you? Lancer Tal told me what all of you did, and I understand it. I might even have done it myself if I were in your situation. But it wasn’t necessary to take advantage of Blunt’s trust that way.”
Gehrain flushed. “I didn’t take advantage of her. I just tried to be her friend.”
“Well, she seems to believe you could be more than that, and from what I saw, you gave her every reason to think so.”
Micah couldn’t help himself. The stress, the worry about Tal, the impending doom pressing down on all of them—it made him a little punchy, and he began to chuckle.
Serrado turned on him. “Exactly what is funny about that?”
He laughed harder, and when he could speak he said, “It’s not funny, not really, but Gehrain wouldn’t do that.”
She crossed her arms and waited for an explanation. Micah looked at Gehrain, who had turned a darker shade of red.
“I’m not…free, Captain. I mean, I have a lover. And he’d be even more angry at me than you are if I made sexual advances toward someone else.”
“An alien someone else. A female alien someone else,” Micah managed just before losing it altogether. He laughed uproariously and slapped his thigh, and when he looked up, the captain’s expression sent him off into fresh gales of laughter.
To his surprise, the captain began to chuckle too. Gehrain joined them, and all three of them were howling when the door opened and Healer Graystone stepped out, regarding them with the look of a parent watching a group of obnoxious children.
Micah sobered and straightened, followed quickly by the other two. “How is she?”
“Not as well as you, apparently.”
“Healer Graystone,” he said, injecting more authority into his voice.
She shook her head and looked at Gehrain and Serrado, who both took the hint and wandered down the hall. When they were out of hearing range, she said, “She has a fractured rib, which I’ve taken care of, but that’s the least of the problems. The real issue is that she’s on the brink of both physical and mental exhaustion. Did you know she’s been taking stimulants?”
“What?” he burst out before catching himself. Damn that stubborn… “No, I didn’t know.”
“For six days,” Graystone said sternly. “Which is at least three days longer than anyone should. Her body chemistry is showing some alarming aberrations as a result, and that little stunt with a projection Sharing put her right over the top. I’ve given her a treatment which should rebalance her chemistry, but it will take several hanticks before it’s fully effective. In the meantime, she’s asleep, and she’s going to stay that way until evenmeal at least. I’d be happier if she slept through until mornmeal tomorrow.”
“I’d be happier about that, too. But we have a war council tonight and it’s more important than ever that she be there. After that, though, I’ll make certain she gets a full night’s sleep.” Even if he had to stand watch in her quarters.
“Then you have your assignment, Colonel.” Graystone stepped away and called for Captain Serrado. “It’s your turn, Captain. I understand I might need to pay special attention to your jaw.”
As she led the captain through another doorway, Micah slipped inside Tal’s room. The window had been darkened, leaving the room in twilight, but there was still enough light to see Tal fast asleep in the bed. He tiptoed over and rested a hand on her shoulder, watching her breathe. After the way she’d walked in here, stiff and pained, it eased something inside him to see her face so relaxed and know that she was healing.
“You grainbird,” he murmured. “Stimulants and you didn’t tell me? How am I supposed to protect you from yourself?”
He should have been angry. She’d risked her functionality at a time when they needed her more than ever. It was reckless and dangerous, and the fact that she’d hidden it from him meant she damn well knew it. But standing here watching her, he couldn’t lay blame. She really was carrying the whole world on her shoulders right now.
“And because worrying about one world isn’t enough, you did a projection Sharing with Captain Serrado,” he said. “You couldn’t stand a tyree not knowing, could you? You had to show her.”
He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, a liberty he’d been allowed long ago when she was still a child. The connection gave him a low buzz of her emotions, subdued in sleep and indecipherable.
“Sometimes I think you have too much of your mother in you. I’m not sure it’s wise for a Lancer to have that big of a heart.” Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, “Sleep well, Andira.”
Chapter 48
To a future
Tal opened her eyes reluctantly, expecting the worst. The crash after six days of stimulants was bound to be a killer, and that was without the added stress of a projection Sharing. But as she carefully sat upright, all she felt was a lingering fuzziness in her brain. And her rib was perfect. Graystone was a miracle worker.
Then she saw the time.
“Great Mother,” she mumbled. “Eight hanticks?”
She put her face in her hands. A whole day. She’d lost a whole day. What was the shekking point of putting herself through the stim use if she was just going to lose—
Her head snapped up again when she remembered. It had worked. Captain Serrado was on their side; she’d even given Tal her oath of service. They actually had a chance.
“Fahla, thank you,” she whispered.
The small vidcom unit by her bed blinked on. “How do you feel?” Healer Graystone asked without preamble.
“Surprisingly good,” Tal said. “But you knocked me out. I didn’t authorize that.”
“You’re in my healing center, Lancer Tal. You don’t get to authorize your own health. I’d keep you here longer if I could, but Colonel Micah has made arrangements. Your readouts look good, though, so I’m confident that the colonel can oversee the remainder of your recovery.”
Tal rubbed her forehead. Facing Micah was going to be the worst of it, she just knew it.
“You have thirty ticks before he arrives,” Graystone continued. “I was just about to come in and wake you. There’s a fresh uniform waiting for you in the bath. A shower and a good meal should clear out the rest of your hangover. And if you ever use stimulants for that long again, I won’t make it so easy on you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The vidcom blinked off without so much as a farewell from Graystone, and Tal shook her head. “Wellernal would have been more respectful,” she said to the dark screen.
The shower felt so good that she stayed in longer than she should have. She’d barely gotten her uniform on when she sensed Micah approaching, accompanied by a distinctive emotional signature. Perfect. With the captain here, she might escape the lecture.
“Enter,” she called as she pulled on a boot.
The door opened. “Want me to put on the other one?” Captain Serrado asked.
Tal looked up to see them both in the doorway, one smiling while the ot
her had his arms crossed over his chest.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m enjoying the sensation of dressing myself this time. Are you here to tell me what I’ve missed? I can’t believe Graystone put me to sleep this long.”
“Consider yourself lucky. She wanted to put you to sleep until tomorrow morning.” Micah gestured for Serrado to take the chair next to Tal. “I told her that wasn’t possible, but the deal is that I make sure you get a good meal first, then after the war council I make sure you get a good night’s sleep.”
“What are you going to do, tuck me in?”
“If I have to,” he said calmly.
She paused, then pushed down the last strap and sat back in her chair. “You’re serious.”
“Yes, I am. Ready for evenmeal?”
“Only if you’re not about to tell me we’re eating it here.”
He raised his eyebrows and walked back to open the door. “Bring it in.”
“Oh, good Goddess.” Tal watched in disbelief as two caterers entered, holding a small, cloth-covered table between them. It was already set with dishes and utensils for three. Behind them came another caterer pushing a wheeled cart laden with serving dishes.
Serrado scooted her chair over, making room for the table. The third caterer swiftly set out the serving dishes while one of the others fetched another chair from the corridor. Water was poured, a bottle of spirits was opened, and the caterers bowed and vanished, leaving the cart tucked into a corner.
Micah sat down and whipped out his napkin, inhaling deeply as he spread it on his lap. “Ah, it smells wonderful.”
She knew what he’d brought; that rich scent took her straight back to her childhood. “You’ve outdone yourself this time. Why am I eating in a damned healing center?”
“Because you need to eat a decent meal, which means dining where you won’t be disturbed or interrupted. That rules out the State House, the base, and every restaurant in Blacksun, leaving us…here.” He held up his hands, indicating the room, then reached for the nearest serving dish. “Oh, look, grilled fanten with marmello sauce. Captain, you must try this.”
“Thank you.” Serrado held out her plate, and Micah served her a healthy dose.
Damn him. She loved fanten with marmello sauce. And she understood exactly what was going on: if she complained or resisted, he’d hit her with the lecture right in front of the captain.
“Shek it all. Give me some of that,” she said, holding out her own plate.
Micah at least had the grace not to grin as he served her. “Black grain?” he asked, lifting another lid.
“Please. And tell me you have spear tips, too.”
He spooned the black grain onto her plate and lifted the third lid. “Why, look at that. Spear tips.” He added the small green vegetables to her plate, then served the captain and himself. Indicating a covered basket, he said, “There’s bread and grainstem powder as well, if anyone wants it.”
“I’m fine for now.” Tal picked up her spirit glass. “A toast to the interfering old Chief Guardian who knows far too much about my childhood.”
They tapped their glasses together and drank, and Tal took her first bite. “Mm. It’s delicious.”
“It really is,” Serrado said. “Was this a special meal for you when you were a child?”
“My father used to make it every cycle on my birth anniversary. And whenever I got sick, I’d ask for it. I’m not sick, Micah. An injection or two and a full day of sleep have done wonders.”
“Yes, it does help to have the right injections,” he said mildly. “But you’re not fully healed yet. A good meal and a full night of sleep should take care of the rest.” He smiled at her and took a bite.
She wasn’t sure which was worse, the anger she’d expected or this calm and subtle blackmail. At least the anger would have been over as soon as he’d finished his lecture. With this, she had the feeling he’d be holding it against her for some time to come.
Since she couldn’t say a word in her defense, she devoted herself to enjoying the food and before long had plowed through half the plate. Taking a moment to refill their spirit glasses, she said, “Now that I’m no longer starving, you can tell me what happened today while I was knocked out. Have you spoken with Lhyn yet?”
“No,” Serrado said. “She made herself scarce this morning, and I haven’t had a chance since then to go back. But I made quite a splash when I checked in with my crew. Everyone wanted to know what happened to my face. I told them I started it, but you finished it.”
“Should I be worried about assassination?”
“Only of your character,” Micah said.
“Very funny.” Tal dug back into her fanten and considered that she might need another serving.
Serrado chuckled. “They’re fine, Lancer Tal. In fact I think my weapons team likes you even more now. They’ve been in a few space station bar fights, and I had to discipline them for it, so they were thrilled to know I got into one of my own. Even more so to learn that you’ve probably been in more fights than all four of them put together.” She grew serious. “But one of the reasons I wanted to speak with you was to advise you not to mention the empathic force. So far as my crew knows, the only person you affected was Commander Kameha. He holds no ill will about it, so they don’t either. I don’t know that they’d be so forgiving if they knew they’d all been used.”
Tal winced. “Not the word I’d choose, but I understand. I’m surprised you’re not insisting on full disclosure.”
“Fleet officers have a saying: it’s our job to hold the umbrellas that keep the dokshin off. As captain, I have the biggest umbrella on the ship. I protect my crew from anything that would hinder their best performance, and that includes a lot of politics, Fleet intrigue, bungled orders, near misses, general idiocy, and information they don’t need to know. This falls under the last category.” She raised a finger. “On the condition that it won’t ever happen again.”
“It won’t happen again,” Tal said. “I never wanted to do that in the first place.”
“I know. I spoke with Lead Templar Satran.”
Tal nearly dropped her fork. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but she said nothing about you.”
Relieved, Tal took a sip of her spirits and chided herself for jumping to conclusions. “My apologies. Please continue.”
“She told me about the Betrayer and what it means in your culture to do what he did. We talked a bit about Fahla’s covenant, and I asked her about the warrants. She said they’re never used for people who are known to be innocent, but this was a special case, and executing them was strictly limited to what was specified in the document itself. So then I asked Colonel Micah to show me the documents.”
Tal was impressed. “You did your research.”
“I wanted to know exactly what was done. And I’m satisfied that you acted with honor. In fact I can’t say that in the same situation, my own government would act with half as much restraint. Those warrants were very specific.”
“They had to be. I was asking a great deal of both my Guards and the scholars who had to act on them. You must understand that to a high empath, your minds are as unguarded as those of children. That’s exactly what it feels like. Ask any Alsean how they’d feel about empathically forcing a child and you’ll get a universal reaction of horror.”
“Any normal Alsean,” Micah added.
Tal tipped her glass in his direction.
“I do understand. At least, as much as a sonsales can. And that’s why I’ve decided that this information stops with me.”
“Agreed.”
“Good. In that case you can count on all of my crew joining you in this fight.”
Startled, Tal said, “Even Commander Baldassar?”
“That was…not a pleasant chat. We’re going to have trust issues for some time. But Baldassar hates being played for a fool even more than he hates the idea of disobeying orders and breaking the chai
n of command. He was as angry as I was when he saw those planetary scans.”
“Do those issues include trusting him in a battle?”
“In this one, no. After all, it will be his neck on the line.”
Tal paused as she was scooping out more spear tips. “I don’t understand. He’s not obligated to stay. Isn’t your personnel ship sending down a shuttle? One that doesn’t have hullskin?”
Serrado and Micah looked at each other, and Tal set the lid back on the dish. Obviously she’d missed something.
“We can’t leave,” Serrado said. “The personnel ship doesn’t have shuttles without hullskin. There isn’t a ship in the fleet that does. Even single-pilot fighters have hullskin, because otherwise they’d be helpless if they ever got separated from their ship. Most smaller ships can’t surf, so they depend on base space travel to go anywhere at all. They’re going to have to pull a shuttle out of a museum somewhere to get us off Alsea.”
“Good Fahla, I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
But it felt like it. Tal had never banked on keeping all of the Gaians; it had been hard enough to deal with the guilt of keeping the captain behind.
“Do we know what’s causing the problem with the hullskin?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Micah said. “This morning we took samples from the Caphenon and gave them to both Yaserka and Eroles. We also gave Commander Kameha access to a lab and a team of his own to help him with our equipment. Between him, the scholars, and the builders, somebody should figure it out. Right now the working theory is that heating up the hullskin causes a reaction with some combination of atmospheric gases.”
“Which would be strange beyond belief,” Serrado said. “We’ve never run into anything like that before, and we’ve flown a lot of shuttles and fighters in atmospheric conditions. Besides, Kameha called me two hanticks ago and said his new lab team gave him a list of your atmospheric gases. There’s nothing on there that could cause this.”
The Caphenon Page 42
