Indomitable

by W. C. Bauers

  Plan on seeing me back on Hold, on time, green-to-go.

  Paen, out.

  LT PROMISE T. PAEN

  COMMANDING OFFICER, VICTOR COMPANY, CHARLIE BATTALION, FIFTH BRIGADE, TWELFTH REGIMENT

  She signed the letter and shoved the datapad at Night. “Happy?” A medical report was attached, which would become a permanent part of her jacket in the RAW-MC, probably before she returned for duty and after it had passed the colonel’s screen. It even fed into her reputation for getting into trouble, and if anything, it was going to make working for Halvorsen that much harder.

  Just another link in my chain of recklessness. Touché, Mr.…? She’d never learned the name of Declan’s boss and still he’d read her like a book.

  What choice did I have?

  Thirty-three

  MAY 18TH, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 1214 HOURS

  SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTER GUINEVERE SYSTEM

  EN MOUVEMENT PLEASURE CRUISER

  “This is nice,” Sephora said as the door between their rooms slid open.

  Promise nodded without looking up from her book.

  Her accommodations probably rivaled the personal quarters of a captain of a Republican battlecruiser, and maybe even a battleship. The small kitchenette included a fully stocked minibar and pantry. The formal sitting area was on the lavish side, even by captain’s standards. Off it was a spacious bedroom with a sizable potted plant. Watering directions were mounted to the bulkhead.

  “My name is Carlie. I like one deciliter in the

  morning and classical music at night.”

  A 3D relief of an ancient wet-Navy galleon sailed across the headboard. Her simulated viewport was spectacular and if she hadn’t known better she would have taken the view for the genuine article. The En Mouvement was up to one-tenth of C, far too slow for the visible stars to care.

  Promise’s nose was buried in a book of military history. Third Diaspora Conflicts and the Rebirth of the Wet Navy, by Schweikart and Grossman. It was a bit on the dry side, even though it’d won the Miron-Lee Prize for narrative history the year before. Promise was tired and struggling to concentrate, and she’d read the same page twice already. And Sephora was standing in the threshold between their adjoining rooms, hugging herself and waiting for permission, again.

  “We’ve been over this,” Promise said, slamming the book shut. She did her best to hide her opinion of the girl’s dress. I’ve seen more cotton in an aspirin bottle. Just make eye contact, P. She did and nearly cringed. Sephora wore a sleeveless top that hugged the body like a wet T-shirt. Her crumpled skirt kept riding up. The ring in her lip chained to the one in her left nostril. Apparently, Kies had made her take both out when she worked.

  “Fine, please,” Promise said with all the patience of a lieutenant of Marines, “come in.” She patted the cushion beside her. The urge to nap almost won her over. Days of too much inactivity aboard the tourosphere and the En Mouvement had siphoned her energy. She didn’t want to think about what it was doing to her conditioning or run times. The ship’s gymnasium was out of the question. She wouldn’t leave Sephora for any length of time, not until she was satisfied the girl was emotionally stable and wouldn’t try something foolish like hurting herself. Considering what she’s been through, how could she be? She and Sephora needed to talk again, sooner than later, before they returned to the tourosphere and switched vessels for the return leg to Hold.

  “Look,” Sephora said, running a hand through her hair. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Which isn’t the same thing as telling me not to. “I don’t have to do anything,” Promise said. “Neither do you. You always have a choice. Come in. Sit down. Let’s talk it out. Please.”

  Sephora did so reluctantly, but perched on the arm of the couch instead, knees toward Promise, skirt bunched up to her panty line.

  “I don’t bite,” Promise said. “By the way, I can see your skivvies.”

  “My what?”

  “Your…” Promise spread her hands. “… your pink panties. Where’s the rest?” Sephora’s legs went on forever, conjuring jealous feelings Promise did her best to shake. Muscular thighs and angles and blocks in all the wrong places were Promise’s lot. In her RAW-MC utilities, Lieutenant Paen showed just enough to let you know the body underneath was female.

  Sephora snorted and crossed her legs. “They’re fuchsia, not pink, and I’m wearing a thong.”

  Right.

  “P—your wardrobe needs help.” Sephora gave her a once-over. “Why don’t I take you shopping when we get to Hold? You have a cute shape. You shouldn’t hide it.”

  My wardrobe? Wait a minute. I’m not hiding anything. “Thanks for the offer.” Promise hoped she sounded genuine. And then I’ll look like a cheap escort. Um … no thanks.

  * * *

  The previous two days had passed quickly enough aboard the En Mouvement, Promise arguing with Sephora about her future and getting nowhere for it. At least some of the pretense between them had fallen. The girl was even using Promise’s nickname—P—and leaving her things in Promise’s room. Sephora’s dress was going to be a problem. They were heading back to Promise’s current duty station, which meant that a lot of young janes and jacks shot full of hormones would be within striking distance, and some were downright predatory about it. Promise needed to explain the dress code on-base without offending the girl. Hopefully, Sephora had packed less revealing clothes. First, she had to get through the girl’s emotional shields, and they were full-up.

  Promise had boarded En Mouvement first, watched with disbelief as Sephora swam the tube in stilettos and a plunging diamond-cut halter top, her black mesh mini not quite covering her derriere. A Kies attendant had helped Sephora into the tube and got a unobstructed view of her stern and support structure as a bonus. As Sephora entered En Mouvement’s gravity she overcorrected, landing so hard one of her heels broke.

  “Got you,” Promise said, moving quickly to catch her.

  Sephora had jerked her arm free. “I don’t need your help.”

  Fine, you need space you got it. Don’t take it personally.

  A small family had reared back, censure written on their faces. They scrutinized Sephora and pulled their children closer. Sephora eyed them before blowing the little boy a girly kiss and the daddy a big-girl one. The wife muttered something and pulled her family down a passageway. Something like an apology crossed Sephora’s face when she looked back at Promise. “Sorry.”

  “For what? They were rude. Well, they were rude first. You didn’t have to be rude back.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Let’s get you settled and grab some chow.” And into something less provocative. “You’ve cut your hair.” It was buzzed. “I like it. It’s so … you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Sephora said as she pulled off her other heel and tossed it in a nearby incinerator.

  Promise turned to face her. “I don’t know how else to say this so you’ll have to forgive me. You like being a badass, don’t you?”

  Sephora crossed her arms and for a moment Promise feared she’d gone too far. Then the girl tossed her head back and roared. “You know, I think I’m going to like you.”

  The porter cleared his throat to get their attention. He wore a Kies jacket and slacks, and wandering eyes. “Welcome aboard, Ms. Nesbitt.” His eyes might as well have been scanners. “If you’ll follow me, ma’am. Ms. Paen.”

  Ms. Nesbitt? Promise cleared her throat. “Eyes in the sky, mister, and off my sister.”

  The porter sputtered out an apology. “Right, well, um, this way, please.”

  * * *

  “Sister,” Sephora said in a hushed voice as they followed the porter toward their cabins.

  “It was the first thing that came out. You’re not a pinup calendar.”

  Sephora looked surprised. “Thanks.”

  * * *

  The first day aboard ship Sephora stayed in her own room. Promise checked on the girl for meals and a tim
e or two to ask her if she needed anything. Otherwise, she tried to stay away, hoping the girl would come to her.

  The next morning, Promise heard a light knock at her cabin’s door. Opening it, she found Sephora standing in the ship’s corridor, wearing a bit more than she had the previous day.

  “You mind, I’m a little cold.”

  Obviously. Promise stepped aside as the girl entered her room.

  “What’s for breakfast?”

  The tray of scones, hot caf, and crisp bacon had just arrived. “There’s enough for two,” Promise said as she pulled out a chair for Sephora and waited for her to sit. “How do you take your caf?”

  “Black as space and scorching hot.” Sephora turned in her seat to look up at Promise. “You?”

  Promise smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “I like to enjoy mine.”

  “Very funny.”

  More small talk followed. They both liked action holovids, so they ordered snacks and watched two back-to-back in Promise’s cabin. Fleet in the Fire wasn’t bad. Blood Ship upset Promise’s stomach and she had to cover her eyes more than once. It was about an AWOL cyborg with massive brain damage that went on a killing spree. A lowly Private Brigance got him in the end.

  “Pulsers don’t sound like that,” Promise said. “You know, they’re silent. They don’t make beaming sounds.” Sephora had rolled her eyes.

  They even picked each other’s roles. Sephora played the private and Promise the bloodthirsty cyborg. “You look like the type,” Sephora said. “Up for a third. I hear Freedom Down is really great. I can be the president and you can be my bodyguard. Sounds fitting, don’t you think?”

  “Better than a ruthless killer cyborg,” Promise said.

  “You’re a Marine.” Sephora’s face wrinkled. “Isn’t that what you do?”

  Promise wanted to backhand the girl and it must have shown. “You have a lot to learn about Marines.” She might as well have struck true because Sephora shrank into herself. “Understand this. I kill when I have to, to protect the lives of others. I don’t court death. Ever.”

  An awkward silence followed. Promise mentally kicked herself, knowing she had to break it now or things between them might never recover. She killed the screen and turned to face Sephora. “Look … I’m sorry for my tone of voice … and for scaring you.”

  “You looked like you wanted to kill me. Just like that ’borg.”

  “I know. That’s a side of me I keep under wraps. Look, what you said hit close to home, okay? I can’t blame you for thinking that way. Especially if all you have to go on are action vids like Blood Ship. I’d make a lousy ’borg.” Promise smiled. “Besides, pulsers really don’t make beaming sounds. They’re silent killers.”

  Sephora glanced up at Promise. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  “Bad memories, that’s all.”

  Sephora slid to the cushion, her shoulders slumped forward, but her lips twitched in response. “I doubt I’d make a good president either. I’d probably get pissed and push the little red button over something stupid.” She turned to face Promise. “I didn’t mean to hurt you either.”

  Little red button. Promise did her best not to laugh. It’s like this girl is reading my mind. She laughed anyway, and then Sephora joined her. Promise leaned over and mock-punched her in the shoulder.

  “Friends step on each other’s toes,” Promise said. “It is going to happen so get used to it. Apology accepted. I’m sorry too. Look, we need to chat about a few things.”

  “No we don’t. I’ll just be a bother.” Walls went right back up.

  “No you won’t. Just hear me out?”

  The head nod was so slight Promise nearly missed it. “I can’t walk away from this.”

  “Sure you can, it’s easy. Just don’t look back.”

  “Okay, let me rephrase.…” Promise took a deep breath. Patience is a virtue … so learn it, P. “I can’t walk away from you. And I don’t want to.”

  That brought Sephora’s head around. “Why?”

  “Because I know what it’s like to be alone. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

  “I’ve had enough company for a lifetime. Trust me, some alone time sounds good.”

  Promise flinched. The girl had been through the unthinkable, much of it at the hands of men like Declan and Wade. “Point taken. I—”

  “More caf? I’ll brew some.” Sephora pushed off the couch and walked into the kitchenette.

  “I’m not offering much,” Promise said. “When we reach Hold, my unit deploys offworld, far from the sector. I’ll be gone for months. I’ve never lived off base. It sounds nice, and I’ll need someone … to watch the place for me.”

  “Hire a maid,” Sephora said as she put the kettle on to boil and pulled two mugs from one of the overhead cabinets. The cabinets, the dishware, and the heating plate were all magnetized in case the vessel lost power. That way they wouldn’t float into the air if the vessel lost gravity. “Better yet, buy a mech. They come cheap. I don’t.”

  “I’m trying.” Promise gave her a pleading look.

  “Try harder.”

  “All right, how about roommates? At least until you get on your feet, and find work so you can pay your own way. Maybe you could go back to school too?”

  “I’ve been schooled in the ’verse of hard knocks.” Sephora slammed one of the mugs on the counter and gave Promise a cold stare. “I’ve got the bumps and bruises to prove it. I’ve got the basic idea. Thanks, Mom.”

  “Maker knows I don’t want to be that. How about your friend?”

  “You know nothing about me.” Sephora’s eyes withdrew to the teakettle as it blew steam. She turned to grab the sugar and banged her head on the cupboard door, stepped back, and slammed it shut in frustration. “Ouch.”

  “You’re a survivor … like me.” Promise sat forward with her hands clasped as if in prayer. “I was about your age when they came for my father.”

  Had her full attention now. “Who?” Sephora said, leaning on the counter.

  “Before enlisting, they hit our homestead. Their vessel was several gens old—I recognized it later, after I was in the Corps. It’s a cheap buy in a lot of verge systems. They wore third-rate battle armor, nothing like my mechsuit back on Hold, but more than adequate to the task.” Sephora finished pouring her cup and went to work filling Promise’s. “My dad never had a chance. They shot him because they—”

  Sephora hollered out in pain and stumbled out of the kitchenette favoring one foot.

  “In the sink, now.” Promise was on her feet and had the cold water running full blast before Sephora could get her foot up and into it. “Keep the water on the burn while I find a medkit.”

  Promise found the small Kies clamshell in the bedroom, beneath the nightstand, and rushed back to Sephora’s side. She filled a bowl with cold water and set it by the couch, and then helped Sephora hobble over. “Hold still so I can see what we’re looking at.”

  “Oh … I don’t feel so…” Sephora’s hands didn’t get to her mouth before she tossed her movie snacks all over Promise.

  “I’ve been doused with worse,” Promise said. She used the blade of her hand to squeegee off the worst of it. “You know, it really doesn’t look that bad.”

  Sephora’s foot was a mottled red from the ankle to the instep, a few spots already blistering. “Try dropping through atmo with a platoon of green boots.” Promise returned with another bowl. “Into this next time, okay?” She stripped off her slacks and shirt, and lobbed them into the kitchen sink. Sephora had turned as pale as the Kies-white sheets on her bed. “Let me get the wand. Head down. Deep, slow breaths. Good girl.”

  A few passes with the wand and the skin looked less angry. A few more and the color returned to Sephora’s face. “I think we can skip the ship’s infirmary. Besides, docs like to use medbots, and bots don’t always stick the right instruments in the right places.”

  “Sounds like some of my former clients,” Sephora said.
<
br />   “Now I feel sick,” Promise said.

  “You—sit,” Sephora said. She pointed to the seat beside her on the couch, and then she handed Promise the bowl.

  “Aren’t we a pair,” Promise said.

  “Yeah. Hey, I’m sorry about your dad, P. Really sorry. My mom ran out on us when I was two. I lost my dad in an accident on the tourosphere. He was working on a lift and fell down the shaft when his gravbelt failed. I was fourteen and Dad had bills to pay. That’s why I started working. Wade was my first…” Sephora’s voice trailed off.

  Promise reached over and grabbed Sephora’s hand. “I’m sorry too. I don’t talk much about my father. He was a hard man to live with. He loved me. He didn’t know how to show it most of the time. He didn’t deserve what he got.”

  After a few deep breaths Promise was feeling better. Sephora’s bluntness would take some getting used to.

  “There was nothing I could do to stop them,” Promise said, knowing full well she didn’t fully believe her words, “and when he was gone there was nothing left for me either. No home. No family to speak of. Enlisting made sense. I needed to get away. Somewhere along the line I got tired of running. The Corps became the family I never had.” Promise slipped her arm around Sephora’s shoulders. “I’m not saying I can be that for you. Maybe I can help you get a head start. You’re going to need help. Here, let me see your foot again. We’ll need to wrap it so we don’t pop the blisters. We’ll hit it with the wand again in a few hours.”

  “Bowl.”

  Promise slid it over as Sephora spewed liquid.

  “Okay—” It came out so fast Promise did a double take. “—roomie.”

  “For a tough girl, you sure are squeamish.”

  “Shut up,” Sephora said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “When we get to Hold let’s go apartment shopping. I’ll hold down the fort while you storm across the ’verse and break skulls for a living. I’ll consider school but no promises. Job for sure. Something not in the service sector. My dad liked to fix things. Maybe I’ll try that. Make sure you send a vid once in a while so I know you’re still alive.”