by C. C. Ekeke
As Sam signaled for more, a breaking news story began. Onscreen was a gathering of politicians led by Temperate Party chairman Aurora Kapoor-Carlyle. The regal and handsome Union Delegate from Mars offered her condolences for Senator Praece’s tragic death before introducing Delegate Hyeshodoma Olle of Galdor. Sam watched with narrow-eyed suspicion, not familiar with him. He looked young, probably in the Galdorian equivalent of his early to mid-thirties.
Then Hyeshodoma spoke, his eyestalks stick-straight with conviction and his croaky voice laced with fiery passion. He covered the Temperates’ need for a new direction, demanding the old guard step aside since their “ancient” ideas were dragging the party and this Union down. Then he spoke about former Chouncilor Bogosian, as well as interim and outgoing Chouncilor Morje’Huijadan. And Hyeshodoma Olle let them have it.
After he finished, Pilot Pub was silent despite its full crowd.
“Whoa,” Bevrolor gawked, her three eyes bugling. Solrao was too drunk to grasp what had been said.
“No fucking kidding,” Sam replied, wearing a shocked façade. Hyeshodoma had gone a bit harder on Bogosian than needed, but his words did the job. “Looks like the Temperate Party found their new star.”
I did that, she proudly reminded herself. Not directly, of course. Ari Bogosian had spoken with Aurora Kapoor-Carlyle, who then chose the young firebrand as the party’s emissary. But the advice was all Sam.
When she had dropped Jhori off at Calliste, Ari was totally plutoed, the lowest she’d seen him in months. Between his Korvenite homeworld bill failing, the no-confidence vote on interim Chouncilor Morje’Huijadan, and Morje’s subsequent dressing down, the former Chouncilor had seen these as a rejection of his legacy. Sam knew something had to be done besides offering worthless platitudes.
“Right now you and Morje’Huijadan are radioactive,” she had explained. “Your party needs at least one new heir apparent with a rock-solid record and the political capital to potentially run for Chouncilor. Someone to credibly challenge Senator Guilloche, the Imperialist Party’s obvious candidate.”
She had been in Ari’s office as her strategy came to fruition. The former Chouncilor had attentively listened. “Kapoor-Carlyle can introduce the Temperate Party’s new luminary, who can criticize your mistakes over the Union-Imperium Trade Merger and the Korvenites. They can also praise your decision to resign for the good of the Union and help the Korvenites integrate into Galactic Union society.”
Bogosian had winced at further tarnishing his legacy, but agreed. “What about Morje’Huijadan?”
Sam felt slightly nauseous recalling her next words. “In order for your party to move forward, one of you has to be renounced. Can’t be you, for the sake of the Korvenites’ agenda. And it’s been six months since the Battle of Terra Sollus, so the sacrificial lamb has to be Morje’Huijadan.”
At first Bogosian had refused, resulting in a man-childish tantrum. Further destroying his former Vice Chouncilor’s career was a non-starter. At first…
Until Sam had painstakingly whittled away Ari’s arguments…and resistance. Once the former Chouncilor had no fluent response beyond a feeble whimper, Sam knew he’d seen her way of thinking.
Do a little bad to do a lot of good. Her motto for years. Lately Sam kept feeling the reverse was happening. She turned from Hyeshodoma Olle’s holoview speech, drowning her self-loathing with another long swallow.
Several drinks later she was flushed and swaying in her seat. All her woes became one distant blur.
“Is Dr. Cortes joining us?” Bevrolor asked, glancing around Pilot Pub.
“After what she went through on Faroor?” Solrao blurted out drunkenly. “With the kidnapping and all… Oooh.” The Ibrisian slapped a hand over her loose lips after Sam’s warning look.
“Lily’s not feeling well,” Sam corrected sharply, offering no further details. Another victim of the chaos on Faroor. She had gotten nowhere trying to engage Lily since CT-1’s return. What happened on that goddamn mission?
Was that what Habraum wanted to discuss tonight? Or would he be peddling more of the same bullshit about remaining friends with benefits? Sam bristled, her mouth a hard line of distaste. She had no stomach for an exhausting discussion that led nowhere.
Sam had reached a painful ceasefire with what she and Habraum wouldn’t become, and could accept remaining friends with benefits. And she planned on telling him that…tomorrow.
Tonight was for drinking with teammates until she couldn’t see straight.
Sam put her glass down and tapped her wristcom with an impish, lopsided grin.
“Hullo!” she greeted in drunken delight when the transmission was answered. “Get your ass down to Pilot Pub! That’s an order!”
Chapter 57
“Almost done with my astronomy, Daddy,” Jeremy announced with an ear-to-ear smile.
The boy sat at his semicircle desk in black pajamas with white stars, sifting through floating holoscreens of various planets in the Mynar Sector.
“Good job, lad,” Habraum replied proudly, sitting on Jeremy’s bed in the boy’s bedroom.
After returning to school today, Jeremy’s top priority was catching up on all the schoolwork he’d missed since his suspension. Jeremy had finished his reading, writing, mathematics, and Union social studies assignments. The astronomy schoolwork included classifying Union memberworlds from the Union colonies, identifying each world’s indigenous species and naming their moons. Jeremy was acing this assignment, with a little help from his father.
“Once you finish, its either one orv of holoview or v-world games,” Habraum said. “Then bedtime.” Regardless of the times he was away on missions, the Cerc always strived for consistency with his son.
“Okay, Daddy.” Jeremy nodded, his short afro waving a bit. “You’re wearing one of your fancy dashikis. Are you going out?”
Habraum smiled at his son’s astute eye. “I am.” He wore a modernized dashiki shirt resonant of his Nigerian side of his family: white with vibrant gold, burgundy and blue patterning round the collar and short sleeves. The dashiki shirt’s fit, while accentuating his strapping frame, wasn’t snug to the point of showboating. The khaki slacks fell loose on his long legs, while the deep red loafers without socks were among his favorite shoes. Along with the freshly trimmed goatee and a sparkly diamond stud in each ear, Habraum knew he looked good. “I’m meeting with Auntie Sammie.”
“Oh,” Jeremy stated, still assuming his dad and Samantha were just “close friends.” Of course he’d think so, Habraum realized. Time to correct that.
“Hey, Jer.” Habraum crouched on his haunches next to Jeremy, so they were eye level. His heart thundered against his chest. Was that fear of Jeremy rejecting his relationship with Sam? Or fear of finally admitting his feelings aloud? Habraum pushed away his anxieties. “What would you think of me spending more time with Auntie Sammie?”
Jeremy furrowed his brow, looking adorable. “You already spend lots of time with her. At work too.”
“True,” Habraum chuckled, his palpitations quickening. “What if she moved in with us? Or we moved in with her and Tharydane?”
Something shifted on Jeremy’s boyish face as he listened to his father. “And you two would kiss more?”
Habraum choked, and nearly fell on his behind. “WHOA, wait…” He scrambled forward and looked over Jeremy to ensure he’d heard the boy clearly. “What do you mean?”
“You two like kissing,” Jeremy said, as if it was no big deal. “Would you do that more if she lived here?”
Habraum’s brain was leaking from his ears. “Maybe,” he answered hesitantly.
“If you and Aunt Sammie are happy, then I like it.” Jeremy smiled. “I like it,” he repeated more surely.
“Good to know,” the Cerc murmured, his mind still cratered by this revelation. On one hand, the Cerc was relieved how easy that went. On the other hand, he and Sam had been so careful around Jeremy. “Who told you about me kissing Aunt Sammie?”
Jeremy shook his head. “Nobody.”
Before Habraum could press further, he felt a telepathic nudge. Hey, hey!
“Tharydane’s here.” Habraum rose. This conversation wasn’t over. “Be good for her, yeah?”
“Okay, Daddy.” The boy nodded, glued to the holoscreens in front of him.
Seeing Jeremy hard at work warmed his soul. If Faroor had gone differently, which nearly happened multiple times, the Cerc never would’ve witnessed this wonderful scene again. “Love you, sprout,” he said softly.
Jeremy turned, his large hazel-grey eyes intense like Habraum’s and partially almond-shaped like his late mother’s. “Love you too,” he gushed, then returned to his work.
Tharydane was already waiting in the foyer before Habraum reached the first floor. Her usually curly violet locks were stick-straight, parted on the left and nearly reaching the small of her back. The tight black scoopneck t-shirt and hunter green cargo pants made Tharyn resemble a typical earthborn human teen, despite her Korvenite features. “Hey, Dani.” Habraum greeted the Korvenite with a firm hug.
“Hi, Habraum!” She gave him an approving once-over. “You look nice!”
Habraum nodded in appreciation. “Dressing for the occasion.”
The Korvenite’s eyes widened. “You’re meeting with Sam? Yay!” She jumped up and down happily.
Habraum tried and failed not to laugh. “Alrigh’, alrigh’. Pipe down, lass,” he ordered.
The Korvenite did as ordered. “Okay. But still…” She jumped one more time, silently delighted.
Habraum gave her tonight’s schedule, fully trusting her with Jeremy in his absence. “He’s upstairs finishing schoolwork. We already ate dinner, but there are snacks in the kitchen. An orv of holoview or an orv of v-world.”
“Got it.” Tharyn turned to ascend the staircase.
“By the way.” Habraum had a nagging suspicion he just had to uncover. “Did you mention anything to Jeremy about Sam and me?”
The Korvenite froze and turned slowly. She was wincing. “Not really.”
“Not really?” Habraum didn’t like how those words tasted. “Care to expound on that?”
Tharyn’s face was a study in bald-face terror. “Oh, sweet Korvan.” The Korvenite conspicuously steeled herself before continuing. “Remember during our Cantalese vacation, sailing across the Golden Sea. I was tasked with cooking dinner?”
“Yeah,” Habraum said reflectively. That day sailing with Sam, Jeremy, and Tharyn was one of the Cerc’s favorite memories. “What about it?”
“Jeremy and I were below the ship deck cooking, while you and Sam were above doing your whatever.” The Korvenite’s expression looked uncomfortable. “Jeremy saw the sunstorm and ran above deck before I could catch him.”
Habraum was lost. “And…?” Then he remembered the “whatever” Sam and him were doing on a lounge chair. “OH!”
“Yeah,” Tharyn nodded, clearly wanting to be anywhere else in the galaxy. “He saw you two.”
Habraum felt cold all over. A blissful memory had suddenly turned unpleasant. “How…much did Jer see?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“Don’t worry.” Tharyn raised her hands to ease his worries. “I got him below deck while you guys were still clothed.”
Habraum took sparse relief in that. Basically, Jeremy had known for months. “Twins bleeding.” He clutched his bald head.
“He was confused and a little upset,” Tharyn continued, a little less terrified now. “But I told him to not say anything unless you mentioned it.”
Habraum let his hands drop, annoyed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Tharyn recoiled from his flash of anger. “Things were so great. It felt like a family and I didn’t want to ruin anything.”
“You should have told me,” Habraum stated stiffly. She had no right to keep that from him.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Tharyn said immediately. “It won’t happen again.”
Habraum regarded her and relaxed. She seemed contrite, and was in a tough spot. “Alright. I should go. We’ll see how it all goes.”
“Good luck.” Tharydane offered with a wide smile.
“Thanks, Dani,” Habraum said as the entrance hissed open. “Call me if anything happens.”
As Habraum entered the translifter at the corridor’s end, he spoke his destination. And it wasn’t the Hollusphere to meet Sam. The Cerc had one small errand beforehand.
Moments later, he stepped onto the level below his and Sam’s. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d visited this level of the living quarters. The Cerc marched through the corridor with long strides toward a specific officer’s quarters.
As he reached the quarters, the door slid open. Out stepped Surje, his lean frame radiating pale red. Spotting Habraum, the Voton’s pupil-less eyes widened as his red glow intensified in surprise. “Captain Nwosu. Greetings.”
“Evening, Surje,” Habraum replied as the two shook hands. “How is she?”
Surje winced, his body glow paling in concern. “Not great. Her state of mind, that is.”
Habraum was afraid of this. “She awake?”
The Voton nodded his tricrested head.
Habraum felt relieved. Hopefully she’d be receptive. “Thanks for looking in, and keeping me informed.”
Surje’s grim smile didn’t reach his white eyes. “Of course.”
Once the Voton headed to his own quarters, Habraum pressed on the console of the door to activate the speaker. “Cortes. It’s Captain Nwosu.”
The door hissed open and he stepped inside. These junior officer quarters weren’t large, and only had one floor.
Habraum found Liliana in the common room, wearing a dark tank top and baggy floral pajamas. The doctor was standing at flawless military attention near a drab grey couch, a piece of standard-issue furniture for non-senior and non-managing officers. “Captain. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“At ease, Lieutenant.” The Cerc waved off her impeccable posture. “This visit isn’t totally formal.” He moved closer and studied his medic officer with concern. Cortes’s long, oval-shaped face looked drawn and tired. Her dark boyish-cut hair stuck in every direction. Clearly the Byzlar incident was taking its toll. “Sit.” The Cerc gestured at the couch.
Cortes seemed to deflate before sitting back down. “Nice shirt,” she noted.
“Thanks.” Habraum smiled. “How are ya?”
The doctor shrugged. “Been better, sir.”
The Cerc nodded, and got to the point of his visit. “I wanted to go over the next steps and any questions you have about the Byzlar incident. You up for it?”
Cortes gave a weary shrug. “I’ll have to be.”
“Don’t fret,” Habraum said as he sat down beside her. “This won’t take long.”
***
“You fought a gender-reversed Star Brigade?” GiGi Gonzales asked doubtfully, “in another universe??”
Coming from someone else’s mouth, that sounded even more ludicrous.
“Sounds crazy.” Khal nodded, pacing before GiGi in his undersized quarters’ bedroom. Wearing a charcoal-grey t-shirt and matching pajama pants, Khal had just given her a summary of CT-1’s mission, including the Zenith Point shenanigans. However, he didn’t mention the Uarya incident. Sam had already chewed him out for that earlier today. “But all that happened. Including us working with a Captain Nwosu from another universe.”
GiGi’s jaw dropped. “That is so beyond!” The plump human sat cross-legged on Khal’s bed, wearing only a baggy white SB shirt that he never wore. GiGi’s excitement was as adorable as she was, her round cheeks flushed. “All those quack multiverse theories are legit?”
“Supposedly.” Khal ran idle hands through his curly black mop of hair. “Just thinking about it makes my teeth hurt.” The Zenith Point hadn’t been Khal’s first encounter with the weirder side of the universe. But he wanted to talk about something else. Better yet, do something else—like peel GiGi’s shirt off.
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At a glance, GiGi looked pure Pogollish. Her cherry-pink skin turned deeper crimson from all her excitement, a standard stormborn human trait. Her bowl-cut hair, up in a low ponytail and thick green headband, was bone-white with pitch-black roots like many stormborn. What gave away her half-earthborn heritage were her almond-shaped eyes, dark brown and not matching her hair roots.
GiGi wasn’t over her alternate-universe fascination yet. “The female version of you. Was she like cosmically beautiful?” she probed like an eager kid.
Khal made a face. “A female version of this?” He motioned both hands down the length of his sculpted frame. “What do you think?”
“Makes sense.” GiGi leaned back on her hands, admiring the view. “You are a little too pretty.”
Khal laughed and swaggered up to her. “That’s a problem now?”
“Naw, not for me.” GiGi raised her eyebrows in a way Khal found sexy as hell.
He cupped her face in his hands. “Better not be.”
A nerve-wracking thought popped into his head before he kissed her. “By the way. This alternate universe stuff is beyond top secret,” Khal murmured, no longer smiling. Captain Nwosu had warned them about that, and he already was on the Cerc’s bad side. “You can’t repeat that tattshi to anyone, Genny. I shouldn’t even be telling you.”
GiGi frowned. “Telling me about what?” she deadpanned.
This one… Khal felt a stirring below the waist, hungry for that shapely body. “That’s my girl.” He drew her into a long, lingering kiss. GiGi sank on into it.
Khal’s intense desire for GiGi still baffled him. She fit none of his usual humanoid criteria: trim, long-legged and blindingly gorgeous—holomodel stunners, basically. And if they were older, even sexier.
Khal found GiGi cute on the face, but far from beautiful, with a petite and averagely pudgy figure. But between GiGi’s intellect, professional competency, above-average bedroom skills and adorable persona, Khal couldn’t get enough. Not caring for monogamy had solidified her as his Hollus Maddrone favorite.
Uarya from Faroor couldn’t even compare, which blew Khal’s mind.
