“If the seedling says so...” Big Raktor unfurled its vines, lowering something covered in brown gunk to the deck.
Lonestar stood from the mess, wiping off her visor. “Captain, it’s damn good to see a human.” She smiled from behind the grime smeared over her helmet. “Spending all my time with that overgrown tumbleweed was getting old. Never thought you’d return.”
“There was a moment I didn’t think I would either,” Tag said. “Multiple moments. But we did it.”
“Can’t wait to hear all about. Really, I want to know everything ya’ll did without me. But first things first, I really want to get out of these clothes and take a long shower. I mean, really long.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Tag said. He looked up at the grown Raktor’s beak. “Thank you, Raktor.”
“You kept up your end of the deal, human Tag,” Raktor replied. Tag figured it was the closest he was going to get to you’re welcome.
Tag left the chamber with Lonestar and the seedling. Their first stop was the bridge of the Peace, where Tag deposited little Raktor on the terminal. He felt a twinge of guilt leaving the seedling there alone.
“Will you be all right?” Tag asked.
“Of course,” the seedling replied. “We would like to offer our assistance if you ever need it.”
“I’ll have Alpha patch in a direct relay from your ship to mine.”
He wasn’t sure when or why they might want to contact the seedling, but it was better to have more allies in this universe than go it alone like the Collectors.
Pausing as he exited the bridge, he turned back to Raktor. “Thank you again. We wouldn’t have made it without you.”
“Likewise, human Tag.”
Lonestar waited until they were within the Argo’s airlock before speaking again. “Weird things, aren’t they?”
“You and big Raktor didn’t bond while we were away?”
“Oh, we bonded as much as a farmer bonds with his corn. And in this situation, I think I was the corn.”
“I’m not sure how to interpret that.”
“You’d understand if you spent days with a plant-creature patting your head and keeping you rolled up tighter than a handmade cigar.”
When the airlock opened into the Argo, Lucky curved her back as if she was preparing to pounce. But instead, she wrinkled her nose and ran away, hissing at Lonestar.
“I’m guessing she doesn’t like to be reminded of her old home,” Tag said.
The other marines welcomed Lonestar back with far more enthusiasm than Lucky, and after the ship was safely underway on its hyperspace route to Meck’ara with the Stalwart, Crucible, and Dawn in tow, they gathered in the mess. Tag took a seat next to Sumo, whose head was bandaged, and Coren. The Mechanic had already taken it upon himself to start upgrading an autoserv bay to produce Mechanic cuisine, and he was nursing a foul-smelling beverage. The crew passed around gutfire and shared jokes, often followed by Alpha asking someone to explain the punchlines, and they retold their latest adventure with plenty of dramatic embellishments. Not that it needed any. Lucky wound between them, begging for scraps of food and hissing at those who refused to provide her with ear scratches or pets. It seemed almost as if everything that had happened to them was merely something they had read in a book or seen in a holo.
But as Sumo poured herself a glass of water—Alpha had her under strict orders to avoid alcoholic beverages as her brain recovered from her concussion—Tag knew that it had all been real. They’d endured so much together, but they weren’t done yet. There was no telling how many other Collectors would descend on them now that they had taken one of their ships, and there were still lingering questions of who in the SRE had established back channels with the enemy. They also hadn’t determined the nature of all those other ships swarming around the Dawn when they’d first seen it. The prevailing hypothesis shared by Tag, Jaroon, and Bracken was that most of those ships must’ve been commandeered by nanite-enslaved races.
At least, that’s what they wanted to believe. None of them wanted to suggest that other races might be collaborators. They hoped the subterfuge and incursion into other governments was so far limited to the humans, but of course they couldn’t know for certain. Now, every time they encountered a new race among the stars, they would have to wonder whether the aliens were enemies or allies.
All this uncertainty made celebrating today all the more important.
“Skipper, you’re looking tense,” Sofia said. “Share one with me?” She passed him a shot of gutfire.
“Here’s to having Lonestar back.” Tag raised his glass to the cheers of the others. With his elbows on the table, he leaned over to her. “Now, I feel you owe us the story of your call sign, Lonestar.”
Lonestar’s cheeks burned a bright crimson. “Aw, come on, you don’t really want to hear that.”
“Being an actual Texan,” Tag said, “I have to say I do.”
“All right, here goes,” Lonestar drawled. She regaled a tale involving a station bar made up to look like something straight out of a cheesy Western holo with a mechanical bull and Western memorabilia ranging from six-shooters to buffalo hides festooning the walls. After having a few drinks, what she thought was an SRE private from the planetary army branch of the military began showering her with attention. She had thought the young man was interested in her until she noticed he was just distracting her while an accomplice tried to make off with her wrist terminal. She’d pulled down a coil of rope from the wall and successfully lassoed the thief, then hogtied him until the station’s police arrived.
“That’s pretty damn tame,” Sofia said. “I expected something a bit more embarrassing.”
“She’s not done,” Gorenado said.
Lonestar rolled her eyes. “I stood there with one boot on the fella until the police got there.”
“And...” Sumo prodded her.
“I was singing a ditty about being a sheriff in the great state of Texas.”
“I would very much like to hear this song,” Alpha said.
“Not going to happen,” Lonestar said. “That was a one-time performance.”
“I’m really kind of disappointed,” Tag said. “Sofia’s right. I thought we were in for a much more scandalous story. Sumo, how about yours?”
“How about I tell you after you save me from living the rest of my days with a giant talking fern?” Sumo said.
“You really want to make that deal?” Bull asked.
“I wouldn’t take it,” Lonestar said. “Captain’s crazy enough to turn this ship around and take you right back to Raktor.”
“We also have access to the seedling Raktor,” Alpha said, “if that is more convenient.”
“Now there’s an idea!” Gorenado said.
Sumo shook her head, grinning. “I think that concussion gave me amnesia. Can’t remember a damn thing about my call sign.”
“Fine. We’ll let it slide tonight,” Tag said.
The group shared in a moment of companionable silence, sipping their drinks as, for once, they weren’t being chased by horrendous creatures determined to kill them. Lucky settled into Tag’s lap and purred as he scratched her scaly neck.
The peace wouldn’t last. As much as they had already been through together, Tag feared things would get worse.
Much worse.
At least, they’d seen the face of their enemy. The Collectors, the mysterious Drone-masters—by any name, they were the greatest threat humanity had ever faced. Maybe those strange lightning-like aliens on the Hope were indeed a very real and dangerous threat, too. The SRE might run into them as the crew of the Hope had. But Tag couldn’t justify the Collectors’ response to that single event. The genocide, enslavement, and experiment...it made Tag nauseous. A twisting knife tore at his gut as he realized the Collectors had sprung from humanity, from his people, separated only by a few centuries.
As Tag looked around at the marines, at Sofia and Alpha, even Coren, he was also reminded of the SRE’s mission
in the universe, dedicated to exploration and progress, to finding new races and civilizations that shared their goals. Sure, there were growing pains. But where those principles persisted, there was hope. Hope that when the storm passed, Tag and his allies would prevail. The post-humans had stolen their strengths from the races they enslaved, and in doing so had become monsters. But Tag and his motley band of humans and aliens—from haughty Bracken to brave Jaroon, and even the Raktors—were stronger because of their differences. Working together, they had defeated Ezekiel. They had succeeded against overwhelming odds, and Tag felt confident they could do it again.
When the time came, when the Postals made their move against the SRE, Tag vowed they would not back down. And, once again, they would win.
The End of Book 3
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