by Rachel Ford
Nikia nodded. “Exactly.”
Niyol sighed. “Well, looks like militarism is alive and well in parliament.”
Raylor frowned. “And how would you choose military leaders, anyway? Put it to a vote?”
“Why not?”
“Well, why stop with the military? Why shouldn’t we do the same with doctors and engineers, and everything else? Forget technical expertise…let’s decide who terraforms our next colony based on who runs the best campaign.”
“Now you’re just being absurd.”
“You first, gentlemen,” she snorted.
Nikia laughed. “Listen, not that I don’t love a spirited debate, but if you three are going to start brawling, give me a heads up first, alright?”
Raylor cracked a grin. “What, you’d pass up a good brawl?”
With a hand to her midsection, she shrugged, “Afraid so.”
The other woman nodded. “Alright. We’ll give you a pass, considering.”
“Appreciate it,” Nik grinned.
“But I make no promise to show these two any quarter.”
Niil offered a supercilious sigh. “Spoken like a Deltan…”
“Nothing else I’d rather speak as. Some of us hail from places that we can be proud of.”
Brek shook his head as the conversation progressed, leaving political debate entirely for a comparison of the virtues of the two home worlds.
Nik caught his eye, smiling. He grinned too, and lowered his voice to say, “Well, that’s not how I expected this conversation to go. I hope I didn’t take you from anything important.”
She chuckled. “A pissing match about which colony is the truer representative of the Tribari spirit? I would have been disappointed if I got anything less.”
Her frank language surprised him, but he laughed too. “I guess I should have anticipated it.” For a moment, they sat in amiable silence, listening to the squabbling around them. Then, he said, “Oh, I’m sorry your brother got bumped from the agenda.”
She shook her head. “Thank you. But I’m not surprised – not after everything that happened today. We just had more important things to discuss.” She smiled softly. “Div will have to wait awhile longer, I’m guessing, before we’ll be able to get back to him.”
He nodded. In the scheme of things, an impending invasion certainly ranked more pressing than the release of a convicted collaborator. Still, he knew she’d been excited to put it all behind them: to inform parliament of her decision, and get their final sign off. “Hopefully we’ll be able to resume normal sessions soon.”
She nodded. “I hope so. But…well, we’ll see.”
Nees drank down her milk, staring into the darkness beyond her window, at the droplets of rain streaming down the panes. She didn’t really like warm milk. She didn’t care for the flavor or feel of it. Still, there was something oddly comforting in drinking it. Something that reminded her of better days.
Not that the something was much of a mystery. She was no psychologist, but it didn’t take psychoanalysis to figure it out. Her grandmother had been a strong believer in the soothing effects of a good mug of steaming milk before bed. She’d dutifully drank one down every evening she spent with the older woman. And from an otherwise fractured and turbulent childhood, those memories of time spent with Grandma Nees were some of the few she still cared to recall.
She watched the patterns of water, drops falling, combining, and then racing past her as they grew too weighty. There was something numbing, if not entirely soothing, about it. There was something calming about the howling winds outside, too.
This too shall pass. She’d heard her grandmother speak those words so many times, and she smiled as they came to mind. It was a bittersweet smile.
She didn’t believe them. Not entirely. Nothing ever passed. Wounds might heal, but scars were forever. She’d spent an entire lifetime learning that lesson, again and again.
Still, there was a measure of truth to it. Sensations dimmed over time. Life moved on. Nees would move on too. She’d accepted already that she was a fool. She wasn’t often a fool, and she’d never been a fool in love. But this time – well, she had been both.
But it would pass. It was just another disappointment, another dead-end. The only thing to do was keep moving forward. And, fortunately, she had plenty to keep her mind busy. Being busy was her sanctuary. It meant she didn’t have time to think, to stew, or to feel sorry for herself.
“Like I’m doing now,” she sighed to the empty kitchen. Come on, Nees. Get your ass to bed. You’ve got an early start.
Draining the last of her milk, she turned and headed back to her room. She’d reached the stairs when a voice sounded, “Governor?”
It was Tal Imari, and she felt her heart skip a beat. She hadn’t heard from him in hours. She’d assumed the silence was good news: Tig had returned without issue. But his presence here, now, made her reconsider. “Tal?”
“Governor,” he repeated, footsteps preceding his appearance a moment later. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late.”
“Tig – is he alright?”
He nodded. “He’s fine. Actually…that’s, um, why I’m here.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to think of that. She still hadn’t figured out what had happened between them. She’d gone over everything that had transpired more times than was probably healthy, but she couldn’t remember doing anything that might have caused him to react the way he’d done. In the end, she concluded that he must have changed his mind, for reasons she didn’t know. So she didn’t know what to make of his friend being here now, either.
Tal cleared his throat, shifting in place. “He, uh, wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry.”
“Oh,” she said again. She didn’t know what else to say.
“He was wondering…well, if you’d let him apologize himself. In person.”
“I…” She blinked, confused. “He wants to apologize?”
“Yes, for leaving. And explain why.”
She felt her cheeks flush. “He doesn’t need to explain. Whatever his reasons, I understand-”
“No, Governor. You don’t,” Tal interrupted. He held her gaze, and then shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry. Believe me, this wasn’t my idea to be middleman.” He shook his head now, as if trying to clear it of this tangent. “But, it wasn’t about you, Nees. It was…
“Well, you were in the military: you know what it’s like to come back from a warzone.
“And that? That’s what Zeta was. Every day, it was like going into a warzone. It wasn’t just the cold and hunger and work. It was everyone around you. You never knew if the guards would feel like blood that day. Or the prisoners. It was just…” He shook his head again. “Hell.”
Nees blinked, remembering the light blues of Tig’s eyes, the pallor in his cheeks. “But why…?”
“That’s a question for him, Governor. All I know is, I wasn’t on Zeta as long as Tig…I got out pretty early, all things considered. And I still, when things are going too right... I wake up with cold sweats. I have flashbacks, and…”
She nodded now, and reached out a hand to his shoulder. He seemed to be struggling more with each word. “I did serve, Imari. And I do understand.”
“Then, you’ll talk to him?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Thank you.”
She smiled, a confused smile. “Of course, Tal. Thank you…well, for telling me.”
He scoffed. “That wasn’t my idea either, Governor. But – can I let him know he can come in?”
She stared. “Come in? You mean…he’s here?”
Tal nodded.
“In the rain?”
Tal nodded again. “Also, not my idea.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tig stepped in, looking half-drowned and very sheepish. Tal glanced between them, and said, “Well, I’ll, uh, give you some space.”
“Thank you, Mister Imari,” she said. It was more formal than she’d m
eant to be.
“Right.” Then, he disappeared at a near run.
Nees couldn’t imagine how awkward things were going to be moving forward. But that was a problem for tomorrow. Now, she said, “Tig.”
“Ari.”
They stood there for a painfully long moment. “Do you, uh, want to sit?”
He shook his head. “No. No, I…I want to apologize.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” he said. “Really, Ari. I screwed up. And I’m sorry.”
She nodded slowly. Was that it, then? Or was he waiting for her to say something? “Okay. Apology accepted. And – if I did something…”
Now, he shook his head emphatically. “It wasn’t you. I…it’s been rough, adjusting back to civilian life. Most days, I keep my head straight. But today…
“I’m sorry, Ari. It just…”
“It’s okay, Tig. No, really: it is. I spent long enough in the military to know what PTSD does to you. Half the guys I served with had it. And the rest of us?” She shook her head. “We pretended we didn’t to finish our tours, and we either got ourselves unfucked when we were back planet side, or…we didn’t. I lost too many friends that way.
“Believe me, I get it. You don’t have to apologize.”
“Maybe not,” he said, “but I want to. Because I hurt you. And because…well, I think I’m in love with you, Ari.”
She blinked at that, managing only an, “Oh.”
“And if – well, I know I probably screwed up everything. I know you probably think I’m nuts.”
“Tig,” she said, shaking her head. “Stop. Stop assuming what I think…and just tell me what you want.” Her head was still reeling from his use of the l-word. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to accurately parse anything else, to try to understand what he was saying, short of it being spelled out in black and white.
He hesitated. “I…I want to be with you, Ari. I love you.”
“Oh,” she said again, a flood of relief washing over her. “Well, uh, I’m glad. Because – because that’s what I want too.”
Captain Elgin drummed his fingers on the desk of his ready room – or what was left of his ready room. What’s left of the desk, for that matter. It had been rather battered in the attack. One leg was twisted out, and it wobbled when he leaned on it.
“Well,” he said, “how’s that for damned bad luck?”
“What’s that?” Mercer asked.
“Having to rely on you to save our backsides.”
“Well, if it had been my call, we would have let you sit for a while and stew. But parliament was in a dither when they heard you were stranded. Guess you must have kissed the right asses there.”
Elgin grinned. He’d already got the full story from Captain Echil of the Firebird, and this version certainly didn’t align. “Is that so? I hear you were doing some real ass kissing yourself.”
Mercer grinned too. “You know me. Making friends wherever I go.”
“Always.”
“Damned right. And now, since that fool Lenksha didn’t manage to finish you off, I get the chance to be even friendlier with our esteemed leaders in parliament.”
“Count your blessings, Mercer: who’d you have to bitch about if I bought it?”
“Other than parliament, you mean?”
“But they sign your checks. You can’t bite the hand that feeds you.”
Mercer scoffed. The holographic generators in Elgin’s ready room were out of commission, but they’d established a video link. And the other captain shook his head now. “Checks won’t do us much good if we all wind up dead because of their mismanagement.”
Elgin nodded slowly. “No. But pissing them off too much might mean you’re not in a position to talk sense to them much longer.”
Mercer frowned. “You hear something I should know about?”
He laughed. “No. Nothing yet, anyway. Just…I heard about what was said, earlier. And I appreciate you coming to my crew’s defense. But you’ve got to remember, those political types don’t take kindly to being challenged.”
“And I don’t take kindly to seeing good men and women killed for no damned reason.” Seeming to catch himself, he shrugged and added, “Or even you.”
“I must have done something to anger the gods, to first damned near lose my ship and now to have to say this – but be careful. I don’t want to have to face the bureaucrats on my own.”
“They don’t listen to me anyway.”
“Maybe not. But the more of us there are, the more likely they’ll be to listen.”
Mercer brushed this aside with a wave of his hand. “Fine, fine. Anyway, anything else your crew needs? Anything else we should be aware of?”
“No. I think you’ve got it all.”
“Good. Then, we’ll see you in thirty-six hours.”
“Right. And Mercer?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay on alert. Lenksha didn’t sound like someone planning to camp.”
Mercer accepted this with a nod, and then the line terminated. Elgin sat in his dim office for a moment, and then shook his head. Beholden to Mercer. Well, dammit if fate wasn’t a cruel prankster.
That wasn’t something he’d have predicted. Then again, nothing lately had been predictable. The most predictable part of anything recently was just how damned unpredictable it all was.
A knock sounded at his door, and Elgin glanced up. “Enter.”
Lt. Dagir stepped into the room, snapping a brisk salute. “Sir.”
“Dagir.” He frowned at the other man, and for a long minute said nothing at all. Then, he directed, “At ease.” Dagir’s stance relaxed, but he was as rigid as before. “Do you know why I called you here?”
“Sir, no sir.”
Elgin arched an eyebrow. “Really?” He got out of his seat now, and walked over, until he was face to face with the junior officer. “No idea?”
“No sir,” he said, but with less confidence than before.
“Hm. Well, let me jog your memory. I gave you a very specific order this afternoon: get the hell out of here, and get an update on the situation to Central. Did you follow it?”
“No sir.”
“No, you didn’t. As a matter of fact, you did precisely the opposite. Didn’t you?”
“Yes sir.”
Elgin nodded. “You saved our lives, Dagir. And, believe me, I’m not ungrateful. But if you failed, we would have lost the entire empire, and a hell of a lot more lives than one starship’s worth.”
“I didn’t fail, sir. With the state of the-”
The captain raised an eyebrow. “Did I give you permission to speak, Lieutenant?”
“No sir. Sorry sir.”
“You didn’t fail, but you could have. It doesn’t matter how good you think your plan is. Only a godsdamned fool doesn’t take into account that he might fail.”
Elgin crossed his arms and sat back on his desk. It wobbled underneath him. That’ll be another thing I need to get replaced, once we get back to a star base. To his junior officer, though, he said, “The fact is, Dagir, I’ve been wondering what in hell I’m going to do with you all afternoon.
“I thought about court-martialing you, for disobeying a direct order. I probably would have, if you’d assumed your success was inevitable.” He sighed. “But, you sent Aytel on without the squad, to complete the mission.”
He shook his head. “Not that he couldn’t have been intercepted. But at least you showed some forethought.”
Dagir was watching him apprehensively, as if he wasn’t quite sure how this conversation was going to end. Elgin sympathized. Until about an hour ago, he wasn’t sure himself.
“So I won’t court-martial you. But you still disobeyed an order.” He fixed the other man with a hard gaze. “A captain needs to be able to trust his crew. He needs to be able to trust that when he gives a command, it’ll be followed.”
“Yes sir,” the lieutenant nodded, standing
back to attention. “I understand. And I accept whatever consequences I’ve earned, sir.”
Elgin got to his feet again, sighing. “Dammit, Dagir, shut up. I still didn’t give you permission to speak. And I’m not finished.
“A captain needs to know his orders will be followed. But he also needs to know he can trust his crew – trust their instincts, trust their ability to make the right call when their backs are against the wall.
“You didn’t obey my orders to the letter, but you followed their spirit. And you changed your strategy when the situation changed. You made a better call than your captain, and you had the guts to stick with it when the comms were down and the decision was entirely on you.”
He held Dagir’s confused gaze. “Lieutenant Dagir, I wanted to inform you myself, in light of your actions in the field today, I’ve recommended you for a promotion to Lieutenant Commander.”
Dagir blinked, then went to speak. He caught himself a moment later, closing his mouth before any sound came out.
Elgin shook his head, bemusedly. “Permission to speak, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m grateful.”
“For the promotion? Or being able to speak?”
The other man grinned. “Both. But, mostly, the promotion.”
“Well, thank you for saving the ship. And not costing the empire into the bargain.”
Parliament convened early, and the first order of business was an update from High Command’s cyber security unit.
The details were too technical for Nikia at points, but she could follow the gist of it anyway: Lenksha’s forces had found a way to infiltrate the imperial military network. They’d exploited vulnerabilities in some of the minor systems, but mostly they’d located a few accounts that hadn’t been locked out, and injected targeted malicious code.
Since Elgin had alerted them, the task force had been working nonstop. They were now confident “within a percentage point” that they’d closed the remaining backdoors.
Parliament labored for a considerable space on that percentage point, and what it entailed; on how the team had reached its level of confidence, and what variables had been accounted for in so doing; and on how such holes had been missed in the first place, and how the team could be certain of their work going forward.
