by Dan Moren
“Tapper, Page, help him up. Brody, lead the way to the bridge.”
Kovalic didn’t remember most of their walk through the ship; it was mostly a blur of gunmetal corridors and one foot in front of another. An indeterminate amount of time later a door slid open and he found himself led into the circular command center of the ship. Brody, who’d sprinted ahead of them, had already slid into the narrow pilot’s couch that was sunk into the floor of the room. He flipped a series of switches and a deep rumbling began to vibrate through the deck plates.
“Get him strapped in over there.” Nat pointed to an empty workstation as Tapper and Page walked Kovalic into the room. She took a seat at one of the other stations, bringing up a schematic of the Sevastapol system on the bridge’s tactical holographic display. “Lieutenant Brody, looks like the Illyrican Navy’s perked up: they’ve deployed a squadron of fighters from one of the carriers in orbit. They’ll probably focus on the path to the gate, but if they see your ion trail, we’re going to have some explaining to do. I’d strongly suggest that we be somewhere that’s not here.”
“All the systems were powered down to give us a low sensor profile,” said Brody in a suffering tone. “I’m bringing them up as fast as I can, but it takes a few minutes to get the engine lit.”
Having helped get Kovalic situated, Tapper and Page had found seats of their own among the other stations around the compartment’s circumference. The vibration through the deck grew stronger as the engine continued to ramp up.
There was a ping from one of the consoles and Brody let out a breath. “Good thing we parked outside of Sevastapol’s mass shadow. Means I don’t have to wait to do this.” He reached over and punched a glowing red button. “Hold on to your hats.”
The engine rumbling died as weightlessness hit. For a moment, Kovalic floated gently against the restraints, a calm before the storm. Then sudden gravity, twice as strong as before, slammed him back into his seat like he was being sat down for an interrogation, and blackness seized him again.
Chapter 5
It was almost peaceful in the ward, Eli mused, as he leaned back in the patchily upholstered visiting chair. Most people hated hospitals, but he found something about them soothing. Maybe it was the sterile environment, or the air of detached, professional calm punctuated occasionally with minutes of rapid fire panic – not that different from piloting, come to think about it. He had let his eyes slide closed and raised his hands behind his head, allowing the rhythmic beep-pause-beep of the machines lull him into a pleasant, half-awake state. I could use a nap.
“Brody.”
The voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp – startled, Eli twitched and barely managed to save himself from toppling all the way over, which probably would have sent a cadre of doctors and nurses bustling into the room. Instead, the chair slammed down hard on the floor and his eyelids snapped up like they were on springs.
Kovalic was eyeing him from the hospital bed, where he’d been propped up with almost as many pillows as if he were at a fancy hotel. He’d been changed into a standard blue patient gown, and the covers were drawn up to his waist. On most people it might look like helplessness; on Kovalic it just looked like he was biding his time. Even the sling on his right shoulder could have been a ruse, something to make an enemy underestimate him. He had a slightly disreputable look, thanks to his stubble, which had grown out a bit – there probably hadn’t been much time to shave in the field – but somebody had seen to combing his short brown hair.
The all-too-familiar slate gray eyes didn’t contain quite enough levity to be considered amused; mainly, he just looked tired. Sprinkled with a dash of surprise at seeing Brody. Bet you didn’t expect that, did you, captain?
“Welcome back to the land of the conscious,” Eli said. “It’s very exclusive: they don’t just let anybody in, you know.”
“What are you doing here?”
Eli shrugged. “You blacked out when we engaged the jump drive; all those extra G-forces combined with heavy blood loss are a no-no, it turns out. Your bo… er, the general wanted somebody to keep an eye on you. And I guess I’m the low man on the totem pole.” Despite his newly minted commission, he hadn’t been asked to wear a uniform, but he still occasionally found his fingers at his collar, where his old Illyrican rank tabs would have resided.
“Lucky me.” Kovalic cocked his head to one side. “The whole escapade is kind of blurry, but I have a vague recollection of Na… of Commander Taylor calling you Lieutenant Brody. Or maybe that’s just a lingering nightmare.”
Hardy-har. Raising two fingers to his temple, Eli gave him an ironic salute. “Lieutenant Elijah Brody, Commonwealth Navy, at your service.”
Kovalic raised an IV-connected hand to his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Headache?”
“Yeah, sure. That’s it.”
With a half-roll of his eyes, Eli settled himself more comfortably in his chair and avoided looking at Kovalic. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else to look at in the hospital room, which hadn’t really been decorated for people who were, well, awake. So he ended up staring at the room’s one painting, an abstract piece of pastel splotches and splashes that had probably been intended to evoke some sort of soothing feeling in patients, but just made Eli feel like somebody had murdered the Easter bunny.
“Hey, Brody.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Taken aback – and a little bit reluctant to let go of his grievance that easily – Eli glanced at Kovalic, fully expecting an air of condescending sarcasm. But the look in his gray eyes was sincere, and as Eli met them, the older man ducked his head.
“Thanks for coming after me,” Kovalic clarified. “That was an impressive bit of flying.”
Eli gave a modest roll of his shoulders and pretended to buff his fingernails on his jacket. “Oh, you know, no big deal.” I only piloted a prototype jump ship – which covers the distance of half a dozen normal wormhole jumps in a matter of minutes – helped covertly take out an Illyrican patrol ship, evaded an orbital defense network and an Imperial battle fleet, and jumped home. Your average Thursday.
“Look, I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”
With a blink, Eli came to and found Kovalic still looking at him. “You’re what?”
“You never wanted a military life. I’m sorry you ended up dragooned into service. I’ll talk to the general and have him rescind the commission.”
“Whoa. Not that that isn’t big of you, but maybe it hadn’t occurred to you that I did this for my own reasons, sparky.” The offer was tempting, but, as the old saying went, in for a penny, in for a life of covert military action. Besides, there was no way in hell he was going back to Dr Thornfield and her simulator after what he’d just pulled off. You’re going to have to drag me away kicking and screaming. More to the point, he was pretty sure he was done needing to be rescued by Kovalic.
Kovalic raised an eyebrow. “Come again, lieutenant?”
“Sorry. Captain Sparky.”
Before Kovalic could return fire, the door opened and Commander Taylor strode in, looking no less composed than she had during the mission to Sevastapol. She was still out of uniform, wearing the same style of civilian garb that Kovalic and the rest of his team favored.
“Simon. Feeling any better?”
Kovalic raised his free hand and made a so-so motion. “I’m not going to lie – the painkillers help. How’d you get in, Nat?”
She folded her arms across her chest, and Eli thought he detected a note of warmness in her expression that he hadn’t seen before. “As you recall, I still have some privileges. Plus, this is a naval hospital, so a lieutenant commander from NICOM has some pull.”
“Still putting the fear of god into junior officers, then?”
Taylor actually smiled for the first time that Eli could remember, a flashing white arc that had an almost predatory glint about it. “It’s a perk.”
Eli glanced back and
forth between the two; he felt like he was missing some part of this conversation, and something in the atmosphere reminded him of the moment on his homeworld right before a sandstorm kicked up. “So… you two know each other, I take it?”
“In a manner of speaking,” said Kovalic. “Eli Brody, this is Lieutenant Commander Natalie Taylor–”
“We’ve met–” Eli started to say, but Kovalic trampled right over him.
“–my wife.”
A succession of surreal images flashed, rapid-fire, through Eli’s mind: Kovalic cooking pancakes on a hot griddle for Taylor, Kovalic mowing the lawn on a summer day, Taylor lounging on the couch with a drink at hand. None of them quite seemed to achieve the level of solid reality. All he wanted to do was blurt out “your wife?” but some part of him seemed to realize that would be inadvisable. So he went with the next best thing.
“Uhhhhh.”
“Ex-wife,” Taylor was already saying, her brow furrowed.
“Finally got around to putting a thumbprint on those documents, have you?”
“Next time I have a minute.”
Eli scrambled up out of his chair. “I should, uh, go and leave you guys to it.”
Kovalic waved a hand. “Stand easy, lieutenant.” He frowned as the rank left his mouth and shook his head. “And I’m not sure I’m going to get used to that. You’re here on business, I take it, Nat?”
A shadow flitted across Taylor’s face, too fast for Eli to analyze, but the commander’s customary poise returned almost immediately. “Of course. The general sends his regards and wants to debrief you as soon as you’re well enough.”
Kovalic reached for the covers. “I’m well enough now. Let’s go.”
“Whoa,” said Eli, raising his hands. “I’m pretty sure that the doctors are going to want a say in this one.”
Kovalic fixed him with a stare. “It’s not my first time being shot, Brody. Now, get a doctor in here and get me clearance to leave before I decide to fight my way out with you as a human shield.”
“Righto. Sir.”
It took some wrangling, but somehow Taylor convinced the on-duty doctor, a nervous young man by the name of Samuelson, to release Kovalic into her care. Still, the doctor insisted in putting his patient in a repulsor chair until they got out of the hospital. Kovalic wasn’t happy about it, but Taylor insisted, taking up a position behind the chair and pushing him along the hallways. The captain crossed his arms and fumed silently, but Eli got the distinct feeling that Taylor was enjoying herself. Neither of them acknowledged his presence as he tagged along behind them.
A hovercar, twin to the one in which the general and Taylor had ushered Eli away for the mission, waited for them outside the hospital; the commander and Eli helped Kovalic into the back seat. Whisper quiet, it whisked them to the naval base’s entrance and then onto the surface streets of Salaam, Terra Nova’s capital.
Kovalic and Taylor shared the car’s front seat, but neither of them said a word during the journey. Eli sat in the back, the child left to amuse himself while the grown-ups feuded, or whatever it was they were doing.
Kovalic’s married. It shouldn’t have shocked him, he guessed – lots of people got married. But somehow he’d imagined the gruff older man to be one of those “married to the job” types. Though, he supposed if he’d had to pick a spouse for him, Taylor pretty much fit the bill. They hadn’t exactly become fast friends on the mission to Sevastapol, but he’d seen enough of her in action to know that she was at least as capable under fire as Kovalic. Maybe they’re both married to the job – which kind of sounds like, I dunno, double bigamy?
The car pulled up next to an apartment block in a nice, if sterile, part of town and Eli caught Kovalic’s perplexed look at Taylor.
“I thought you were taking me to the general?”
Taylor nodded up at the building, which stretched a good ten stories into the dark night sky. “He’s upstairs.”
Kovalic snorted. “Let himself in with the key under the mat, huh?”
They got out – Kovalic waving off any help from Taylor – and filed into the lobby, where a lift took them to the building’s seventh floor. The inside of the place was no less bland than the outside: the hallway was a uniform off-white with soft, drab carpeting and nondescript doors fitted with small number plaques. When they reached the one marked 705, Kovalic raised his wrist to the reader panel next to the door. With a click, it unlocked, and they let themselves in.
Eli had been expecting that the apartment behind the door would be as dull as the rest of the building, and was surprised to find that it was nothing of the sort. Instead, it was a cozy one-bedroom unit, with a compact living room, galley kitchen, and a full-height window with a nice view of Salaam’s twinkling lights. The walls were decorated with paintings in a twentieth-century style, along with one large fabric wall-hanging that, unless Eli missed his guess, was a Hanif piece. A sleek home audio system sat on a small cabinet, a home terminal on its partner; they flanked a small, artificial fireplace. It was homey, Eli decided, and in that no less incongruous with Kovalic than the idea of him in holy matrimony.
Ensconced comfortably on a rough-woven brown couch sat the general, one hand cupped around a tumbler of some sort of liquor. He raised the glass towards them as they entered.
“I hope you don’t mind. I made myself at home.”
“Please,” said Kovalic dryly. “My home is your home.”
The general gestured to a matching armchair, and Kovalic lowered himself gingerly into it with his good hand.
“How’s the arm?” asked the general. Despite his solicitous tone, his eyes were narrowed, as if waiting to weigh Kovalic’s answer against his own observations.
“Hurts like hell,” said Kovalic. “But I’ll live.”
The general leaned forward, his joints creaking like a house settling in for the night, and his voice lowered to a more genuine register. “I’m glad you’re in one piece, Simon.” He spared a glance to Taylor and Eli, who had both remained standing – largely for practical reasons, since Kovalic had taken the only chair, and Eli couldn’t imagine anything more awkward than plopping himself down on the couch next to the general.
“A job well done, commander, lieutenant. You have my compliments.”
Well, great. That makes signing my life away to the military all worthwhile, then.
“But,” the general continued, “if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to talk with Captain Kovalic privately.” His white eyebrows arched in expectation.
“Of course, sir,” said Taylor, her back straightening.
Eli looked between them and started to open his mouth, but Taylor seized his forearm and gently but firmly dragged him out.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he protested, after the door had shut behind them.
“No, you weren’t,” said Taylor, taking up a spot leaning against the wall.
“So what now? Can I go home? Am I supposed to wait?”
Taylor shrugged. “We weren’t dismissed, lieutenant, so we’re staying right here until we’re told otherwise.”
“Have I mentioned how much I love the military?” Crossing his arms over his chest Eli sighed and leaned against the wall on the other side of the door from Taylor.
“So,” said Taylor, eyeing him, “why exactly are you here, Brody?”
Damn good question. “Kovalic bailed me out of a couple jams,” said Eli, jerking his head at the apartment door.
Skepticism was written all over Taylor’s face. “You joined up because you felt like you owe him?”
It’s a marginally less depressing answer than “I had nowhere else to go.” “I guess. Why do most people join up?”
Taylor cocked her head to one side. “I don’t know. Everybody’s got their reasons. Personally, I think a lot of people are just looking for somewhere to belong.”
Eli shifted uncomfortably, but if Taylor realized she’d hit a nerve she sure didn’t show it. “What about you? Why’d you pick this gloriou
s life?”
A faint smile crossed Taylor’s lips. “I’m doing what I always wanted to do, Brody: solving problems, doing my part to make the galaxy a safer place. This is where I belong. Also, I’m damn good at it.”
Can’t argue with that. Must be nice to know where you’re supposed to be.
With a sigh, his eyes drifted to the door, and he found himself wondering exactly what Kovalic and the old man were discussing in there.
The door clicked shut and the only sound in the apartment was the quiet rushing of the pipes behind the walls as someone else in the building took a shower. The general didn’t say anything for a moment, just sat speculatively turning his glass in his hands. Kovalic shifted restlessly in his chair: he was tired, his shoulder was one big radiating ache, and his normally quiescent temper was rearing its head.
“Lieutenant Page and Sergeant Tapper gave me their preliminary reports while you were in the hospital. I was sorry to hear about Flight Officer Jens,” said the general finally.
“Yeah,” said Kovalic. “He had a family, you know.”
“I’ll send someone to inform them.”
“No, you won’t.”
The old man looked up, nonplussed, and Kovalic held his gaze. “I was the commanding officer on the mission. I’ll go.”
For a moment the general looked like he was going to argue the point, but Kovalic’s gaze didn’t waver, and after a second he sighed and looked down at his glass, then gave a curt nod. “You won’t be able to tell them the details.”
“I know.” He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice.
Lifting his glass to his lips, the general took a swallow, and then laid it down on the glass coffee table in front of him with a clink.
“So. What happened out there?”
“You tell me,” Kovalic said, then snapped his mouth shut. “Sorry, sir.”
Raising both of his hands, the general shook his head. “You have every right to be angry. The codes for the defense grid were genuine as far as I knew.”
“That wasn’t the half of it. IIS knew we were coming. Bleiden said they were watching him – he must have slipped up somehow. They poisoned him before he could get to us.”
