by Greg Dragon
“I’m not being defensive,” Helga said. “It’s just you lecture me a lot, Cilas, even when I’m just talking schtill to pass the time, and, well, you know.”
“Noted,” he said, and then motioned for her to follow him through a set of double doors.
They emerged into a domed space with tiered decks staggered up to the ceiling, each holding a neat row of buildings. Surprisingly, the ceiling itself didn’t show videos of a sky, and it didn’t use holos to give that illusion. A’wfa Terracydes wasn’t going to pretend that it wasn’t a space station, which spoke to the directness of its people.
Helga found herself hesitant to continue the conversation. She had seen the change in his demeanor, and wondered if her honesty had somehow damaged their relationship. Cilas was not a talker, and could become rather cold to those who he felt was not worth his time.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that sometimes I feel as if you see me as a child.”
“There are no children on this team, Helga, only operators,” Cilas said. “I trust each and every one of you with my life. I’ll go easy on the preaching from now on, how’s that? Now, as to hubs and the refugee situation, you will just have to deal with that in your own way. We Vestalians, we no longer have a home. We’re a species of vagrants, and not everyone is going to be okay with that. Acknowledge this reality and you will be better for it, because this is what counts.” He pointed to his heart, slamming his fist into it with a salute.
“We, the victims of the Geralos, no longer belong to just one planet. We belong to Anstractor, our galaxy, and we can be found everywhere, whether they like it or not. Our refusal to fade into irrelevance is why many won’t understand us, or go out of their way to help. But you know what? That’s alright. We have friends in the Alliance, and none of us are going to stop until we win this fight.”
Where in the worlds did this passion come from? Helga thought, looking at him now in a different light.
Cheers went up around them, and both Cilas and Helga were surprised to see a small crowd of children converging.
“Are you an Alliance Marine?” a young teen said. He was dressed in coveralls smeared with grease, and was smiling up at Cilas.
“Something like that,” Cilas said, waving to the others as they gathered around.
“We want to hear more,” another young man said, this one shirtless and gnawing on a ration bar.
“Your words inspire hope,” said a tall girl. She had a shock of thick grey hair despite her youthful features.
“How many people have you killed?” said another young girl, who looked to be no older than twelve.
“Think that one was directed at you, Hel,” Cilas said, grinning.
“We kill Geralos, not people,” Helga said quickly, hoping that would be enough to satisfy her.
The mention of the lizards made the children go silent, then more questions followed, this time with twice the animation.
“Do something cool,” one cooed, and “I hear that you can fly,” and, “Is she your girlfriend?” which made Helga’s face turn red with embarrassment.
She looked over at Cilas for a strategy to escape, but the Nighthawk looked to be enjoying it.
“I want to be like you when I grow up,” said a tiny waif with the biggest amber eyes that Helga had ever seen. The sight of them weakened her resolve and she reached down and lifted her into the air. “See, told you that girls can be Marines,” she shouted at a boy, and stuck out her tongue in triumph.
“You can be whatever you want, little spark,” Helga whispered into her ear, then put her back down and tousled her hair.
“Time to go, children,” Cilas announced, still smiling despite their loud objections.
“Please don’t go. You can stay a while. We want to hear stories about the war,” one of the younger boys said.
It broke Helga’s heart to feel so loved and adored by Vestalians not born on a ship. Without Cilas there she would have melted, falling victim to their whining, staying and relaying her stories and songs, playing big sister to them. She looked around for their parents, and saw groups of adults looking on, but they were too bashful to approach.
Cilas reached inside his pack and brought out a handful of chocolates, which he held over his head to the delight of all the children gathered around. These were Arielle’s, an expensive brand of candy, whose manufacturer donated them to the ships. The rates often used them as a form of currency, and Helga recalled Quentin and Sunshine gambling for them. The children wouldn’t know their worth, outside of them being a brand of candy whose packaging held the Alliance’s stamp. Had they known, they could have traded them for bags of cheaper stuff that could keep them in sugar for a whole year.
Still, they jumped and screamed excitedly, as Cilas held them above him, egging them on until they were practically a mob. He passed them out eventually, one to every child, and it was the distraction they needed, allowing them to finally press on.
As they walked away, Helga chanced a glance back at the girl with the large amber eyes. She was standing apart from the rest, clutching at her shirt and staring after her with stars in her eyes.
Thype it, she thought, and jumped up into the air, pumping her legs to bring her rockets alive. She flew up to the ceiling and turned, waving down at her tiniest fan. The girl screamed and ran back to where her mother was patiently waiting. They hugged and the tyke pointed up at Helga, too excited to formulate words. She would never forget it, and Helga knew it, recalling similar times as a cadet.
“That poor mom won’t hear the end of it until she’s forced to ship that child off to the Alliance for training,” Cilas said, shoving her playfully when she landed. “Helga, the recruiter. You’re a natural!”
“Do you ever stop?” she said, exasperated. “I did it for the baby, to give her some happiness. She looked so miserable when we took off.”
“I used to be one of them,” he said, “running out to meet every uniformed stranger that showed up on our block. You don’t want to give them false hope, Helga. I saw you with that little girl, and I just knew you were going to tell her that she can be anything she wanted to be. For adults, those are just words, and they do sound good to hear, but for a child coming out of here, it is a lie. Arisani has strict rules against their citizens leaving to join the Alliance. It is why you don’t see any of them within the ranks.
“Leave, and you get a bounty on your head, and worst still, the Alliance won’t take you in. Doing so would violate the agreement we have with this people, and could lead to them becoming our enemies, which is something we cannot afford. Our people have it good here, regardless of how it looks, and while it’s admirable that they want to fight, they cannot.”
“That really stinks, Cilas,” Helga said. “But anything is possible if you have access to a ship and someone willing to help. That little tigress could stow away with any Marine that docks here, and the Arisani wouldn’t even notice. She is Vestalian. Really, how would they know?”
“You’re right, and I’m sure it has happened in the past, but I’m just informing you of how things are here. You’re able to see past the smiles, and that is good, but there are deeper rules that enforce the status quo,” Cilas said.
“What’s the story on the Genesians? They’re an odd bunch. Robes and sneers to go with their noses so far up the Arisani’s rear. You would think that they went to school for it. I’ve known a lot of Genesians, and none that I’ve met have been anything like the ones I’m seeing here,” Helga said, throwing her hands up with disgust.
“Yeah, well these were born here, that is why they’re odd,” Cilas said. “They look like us, and that became a problem when the Vestalians were given refuge on the planet. Now, they go out of their way to differentiate themselves, by toadying up to the Arisani to keep a permanent seat at the table. It’s infuriating, and I assure you that the Alliance Genese are not proud of their behavior. These Genesians you see here, they aren’t built like Tutt and the honorable men and women
back on Rendron. These are descendants of engineers who were sent to assist with the building of this station. By birthright, they are highborn, very much like the Arisani they serve, but they owe no allegiances to our cause. We are but a nuisance to them.”
“Sounds like you’ve had some dealings with them,” she said.
“Not exactly, but I know enough Marines, and those boys love to talk. Genesians here are no different from the Louines. They see what the lizards have done, yet do nothing to help us when they can.”
“You would make a great politician, Cilas. I could see you holding a seat on our council,” Helga said.
“That’s for bridge-hugging console jockeys, Helga. No disrespect, but when I die, there’ll be a weapon in my hand.”
“Not if the captain can help it,” Helga said. “He’s practically grooming you to replace him, and it makes sense.
“Makes sense how?” Cilas said, and the defiance was gone, replaced by a tone of genuine curiosity.
“You’re the same make and model. Marines that rose from poverty to fight, thus earning a name for yourselves. Everyone knew Retzo Sho, the ESO, just like they know Commander Cilas Mec. I will never forget when we arrived on Aqnaqak and the mere mention of your name was enough to get us easy passage. You have countless missions under your belt, you’ve commanded craft, and are on a first-name basis with our beloved captain. He will make admiral, you know, and when he does, I just know that he’ll formally recommend you for the seat. Hopefully by then you will be ready to accept it.”
Cilas was silent for a time as they walked through a darker passageway illuminated by floating lights. The sound of loud music could be heard from an open door, and when they walked past they saw a crowd of Arisani dancing. It was a stark contrast to the domed living area, but added to the exotic allure of A’wfa Terracydes. They came out into another open space, this one busy with vendors.
“You know me, Helga. You know that I am not a man of tremendous ambition,” Cilas said. “I’m just a Marine that wishes to see the lizards off our planet.”
“That’s why you’re the perfect man for the job, Commander,” Helga said. “Other men say those things, but unlike them, you really believe it.”
14
Although Cilas picking her to accompany him wasn’t the romantic getaway that Helga hoped for, she did enjoy their time together, even if at times it bordered on contentious. Helga was young but self-aware, and much of her frustrations had to do with her second-guessing herself.
He had called them lucky for being in the Alliance’s Navy, and though that bothered her—considering the constant gamble with their lives—she forced herself to see it from his side as a child of a hub. Her not having had that experience, she couldn’t assume that he was wrong, but youthful stubbornness made silence difficult, and she would at least share her side.
To Cilas’s credit, Helga’s need to argue didn’t seem to faze him the way it would with any other spacer of his rank and file. This drew her to him, and strengthened their bond, and she felt as comfortable with him now as she felt when they were the two surviving Nighthawks on the infiltrator, Inginus.
Back then, she liked him and was too frightened to act on it, but they became close as survivors, when he showed her how to improve her aim and helped her to learn more of Vestalia’s history. Now they were lovers, but it frayed the little freedom she had with her words, since she was now forced to constantly monitor her speech.
They were still in the slums, but Trisk A’lance called Cilas to give him an update on where they were with the hack. Fifteen minutes of waiting and she was already nervously fidgeting with the grip on her sidearm. There were several characters giving her the eye, and being that she couldn’t tell the predators from the prey, she wasn’t taking any chances.
When Cilas finally returned from taking a walk—which he would do whenever he wanted privacy—he took her in his arms, lifted her up, and planted a wet kiss on her lips. It was so sudden and out of character that Helga stood there as if stunned, until he took her hand to pull her along, back the way they had come.
She wanted to ask him what had changed, especially with the kiss that had been seen by every curious citizen in the passageway, but she kept her mouth shut and jogged to keep up. If Trisk A’lance had asked them to return to the station, it meant that he had the logs, and they would need to scrape them to track down the communication.
“Turns out there was a message sent from this station,” Cilas said when they were back on the crowded mainline, moving as fast as they could towards the offices of ACLOP services. “The other Nighthawks are on the way, but we need to be ready to help the security officers apprehend the mole. Once that’s done, we can get back to business, and it will be Nighthawks and the Ursula crew, no more passengers.”
“What about the pirate that we took hostage?” Helga said, glancing up to meet his eyes.
“I’m handing him over to the Arisanis; we got all that we needed from him back on the satellite. Doctor’s suggestion made me decide on that, since his condition tanked once stasis was off. Filthy business, taking hostages, Helga. If there’s any part of the job for you to avoid, that would be it. Tutt and I … the things we had to do to get the words out of him inside that house … you’re tough, but you don’t want to have to do it.”
“I’ve seen your work,” she said quietly and flashed him an ironic smile. “Pirate ship above Dyn, remember? When you needed answers from their so-called captain. You became a monster, but you had to, though it was difficult to wrap my head around you after seeing what you had done. Still, is it any different from razing a town or butchering civilian troublemakers? Let’s be honest, we’ve all done some thyped up schtill. You’ve always told me not to worry about it, and so I don’t. You should take your own advice. That killer deserved every bit of the pain you and Tutt served up to him.”
“Well, Lady Hellgate, you sound like a Marine. If only Tutt were in attendance; you would move up several degrees on his impression meter,” Cilas said, laughing.
“Tutt loves me, it’s quite alright. Impressing him more won’t gain me any additional points,” Helga said. “Plus if he was here, he would have seen my commander hoisting me up for a kiss. Wonder what he would have said, had he seen that?”
“He would have said nothing, at least for now, but he would have a lot of jokes coming for me later on when it’s just us,” he said, dismissively. “They probably know and talk about us, but I haven’t seen anything suggesting that it’s causing any discomfort, jealousy, anger, or whatever schtill comes with a ship full of hard legs and two women.”
“Tutt wouldn’t want me. I’m not his type,” Helga said. “And Raileo may have a slight crush, but now that we have a pretty Traxian on our decks, he has no eyes for me, only excuses. Sunny is a Jumper, so we know that he already knows and will never share, so that takes him out of consideration. And we have three women, Commander, not two. You forgot Zan. While she’s a machine, and linked to the Ursula, she is modeled after an attractive Vestalian. Have you seen her legs? Yeah, and she’s got a personality in there, a cute one. Anyone desperate could give her some attention and there would be an instant connection.”
“You can be so dry, you know that?” Cilas said, as if what she suggested with the Cel-toc was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.
“You’ve never known Marines to thype Cel-tocs?” she said, daring him with her eyes to deny it.
“I have, sure,” Cilas said. “There’s a whole section on Nero deck back on Rendron, where they have units dedicated to lonely spacers, but Zan is our pilot and important, I don’t want to confuse that with Ray bringing her to his bunk.”
“Cilas I am so joking. Zan isn’t built for that, and even if she is, I doubt Ray would be the type of human she would go for.”
“Who would get that honor?” Cilas said.
“Me and Sunny, you know, the only two crew members that speak to her on our regular rounds. Sunny has some sort of history wit
h Cel-tocs, knows how they’re wired and how to run maintenance, so he’s always talking to Zan. Me, I’ve grown to like her. She may not be real, but if I was stuck on a ship with her as my mate, I really don’t think it would be all that bad.”
“I’ll take your word for it, but I’m not going to consider her as the third female on the Ursula, Helga Ate,” Cilas said. “We’ll get more eventually; I can only imagine with our recruitment to fill our berths. Then no one will care enough to worry about us.”
They got to the office and walked inside where they were escorted back to the sergeant’s office by another Arisani officer. Raileo was waiting and rose to salute them when they entered, and Helga returned it before taking a chair on the far side of where he sat. The Nighthawk could be immature with his antics but she liked him, and he was her partner-in-crime when it came to these boring briefs and war scrums.
When Cilas had echoed her concerns that the other Nighthawks knew, she felt awkward sitting with him, and needed a break from her thoughts. After five minutes passed, Sundown appeared in the doorway, with Quentin Tutt behind him with his sidearm out. They greeted their comrades before taking their seats, and Quentin leaned over to casually place an elbow on his knee.
“Where is this man?” he growled. “I’m over this station. The sooner we’re back in open space, the sooner I’ll be able to thyping breathe.”
“Someone’s grouchy,” Helga said, not bothering to look at him because she knew exactly how he would respond.
“I don’t blame him. This station is only a step above a hub,” Raileo said.
“It’s surely not Sanctuary,” Sundown added, and then the three of them began to laugh.
“Looks like I owe you an apology, Commander,” Trisk A’lance announced, startling them as he came into the room, sweating, as if he had just been running laps. “We have quite a situation here, and I will speak to you in private about that. Our cipher is still making sense of the data, and will have a full report for me to share with you and your captain. The person involved makes for a complicated situation, and out of concern for your safety, we would suggest that you shove off before we share the results.”
