Solfleet: The Call of Duty

by Smith, Glenn

  Her sleeve finally tore free. He pulled it off her limp arm and folded it over several times, then laid it over the exit wound as it was clearly the most severe. “See if you can reach around with your left hand and hold this in place,” he said. With much effort, and with his help, she managed to do as he asked.

  The sirens were drawing nearer.

  “Hang in there, Beth. Help is almost here.”

  He spread his knees apart and gently laid her back, hoping that her body weight would put added pressure on the wound at the base of her neck and help stop the bleeding. Then he stood up, reached over the back of the couch, and grabbed both cushions and the folded blanket that was still draped over the arm. He stacked the cushions beside her legs, then lifted her legs off the floor and slid the cushions underneath them for support. Then he shook out the blanket and laid it over her to keep her warm. “This will help prevent shock,” he told her.

  “I can’t breathe!” she cried, wheezing, gasping for air.

  Dylan tossed the blanket aside and tore the hole in her blouse wide open. A circle of bubbly red foam was dancing over the wound above her breast, which he realized indicated that her lung was probably collapsing. He laid the palm of his hand over the wound and pressed down firmly, trying desperately to create an air-tight seal. He glanced around but saw nothing within reach that would do the job any better.

  The sirens were drawing closer.

  He wanted to sit her up and hold her in his arms, but he knew that if he did that he would only worsen her condition. “Help’s almost here, Beth,” he told her again as he gently stroked her cheek with his free hand. “Just a couple more minutes.”

  As he continued to reassure her, his biotronic shoulder began to throb painfully and he started feeling faint. Then he spotted a narrow rivulet of blood trickling down over his arm and mixing with hers.

  He’d been hit. Of all the luck. But Beth still needed him and he was determined to stay strong for her. Medical care and the chance to rest would come soon enough.

  One by one the sirens fell silent. The Civil Guard had arrived. Everything would be all right now.

  Beth, and his hand over her wound, seemed to drift off into the distance as a bad case of tunnel-vision suddenly washed over him.

  Everything would be all right.

  He looked up and the world of color around him faded to so many shades of gray.

  Everything would be all right.

  Those shades of gray deepened and darkened and ran together.

  Darkness swallowed the world.

  Chapter 45

  That Same Morning

  Friday, 24 September 2190

  Admiral Hansen thanked the Tarko City station commander for his call and closed the channel, then leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on his desk, and sipped his fresh cup of coffee. If it weren’t for the fact that Liz’s ship was still missing, he probably would have been angry as hell at her for what she’d done. Furious even. But as it was he was too concerned for her safety and wellbeing to be too angry.

  The station commander had called him to report that Squad Sergeant Dylan Graves and a young Army corporal by the name of Bethany DeGaetano had been wounded while apparently trying to prevent a kidnapping in the sergeant’s housing complex. But he’d clearly been reluctant to make that report and Hansen had had to press him—had even had to pull rank on him, in fact, which was something he tried to avoid doing whenever possible—in order to get anything more out of him. But even as he talked, his deep regret had shown in his eyes.

  Hansen had been surprised to learn that Royer had found and arrested the fugitive Stefani O’Donnell right there in Tarko City—why hadn’t she told him anything about that?—and had been utterly shocked about two seconds later when the station commander further informed him that she’d left Cirra without her. Instead of throwing her in irons and arranging to bring her back to Earth like she should have, Royer had turned her over to the Tarko City agents. They in turn had moved her into an apartment directly across from Graves about a week and a half ago, per Commander Royer’s orders, and had been conducting surveillance on the both of them ever since. More than that and perhaps worst of all, Royer had ordered them to keep everything from him and report only to her.

  He was growing angry all over again just thinking about it. He drew a deep breath to calm himself. If Liz eventually turned up alive and well—and he sorely wanted to believe, needed to believe, that she would—she was going to have some serious explaining to do.

  Chapter 46

  The Next Night

  Saturday, 25 September 2190

  Commander Royer hadn’t traveled outside the solar system in so long she’d forgotten the true depth of her loathing for interstellar travel. Especially those weeks-long deep, deep space voyages, like the one she’d finally just returned home from. If she never had to take another trip like that again, it would be too soon.

  As usual, she hadn’t slept very well at night during either leg of the trip, especially after that relatively short-lived but nonetheless nerve rattling attack—had it been anything more than just a pair of scout ships, they might well have lost a lot more than communications—and she felt completely exhausted. Sure, Cirra had been a beautiful world and all. Incredibly beautiful in fact. She had especially enjoyed flying over the deep blue forests and the rocky, snow-capped mountain ranges that rose high through the billowy clouds. Their awe-inspiring majesty had been nothing less than magnificent. But it had taken nine days just to get there, her mission had turned into something more complicated and much more deeply covert than she’d expected, and it had taken another nine days to get back home, once she was finally able to leave. The whole trip had lasted twenty-eight days in all, and even though she’d expected right from the beginning to be gone for at least a month, it was still too much. She was so glad to be home.

  Home? Mandela Station wasn’t her real home, of course. At least not to the extent that it had become Admiral Hansen’s. Her actual home and official home of record was a small town just outside Kansas City. But among other things, Mandela Station housed Solfleet Central Command Orbital Headquarters, which had been her permanent duty assignment and her and Karen’s home away from home for more than nine years. So, yes. For all intents and purposes she was home.

  Considering the duration of the trip, she’d traveled relatively lightly as usual, not wanting to load herself down with extra luggage full of stuff she’d probably end up not needing anyway. At least, that was what she’d told herself she was doing when she packed. But as she left the passenger terminal behind and made her way back through the station’s familiar corridors toward her quarters, the twin carry-on bags that had made up the entirety of her luggage seemed to grow heavier with every step. Especially the one weighing on her right shoulder, which still felt sore where she’d slammed it against the wall during the attack. She was beginning to wonder if the strap might actually saw her arm off, right through her black pleather jacket.

  But their weight was nothing compared to that of the other burden she’d brought back with her—a mental burden she would happily exchange for another heavy suitcase if she could. The admiral had been against it from the very beginning, even though not doing it would have meant finally facing the consequences that had been looming over their heads for the last six years. But she’d argued relentlessly until he finally acquiesced and gave her his authorization. Knowing without a doubt that she was right, she’d gone forward with her plan immediately upon his surrender, only to watch it fail. That failure had forced her to take matters into her own hands and go to even more extreme measures, but so far as she knew those measures weren’t proving to be any more effective than the first ones. The admiral had been right all along.

  So what was she going to tell him now?

  A left turn and an immediate right, then around the double bend in the corridor and her quarters were just ahead. Finally, she’d made it. She was so looking forward to surprising Karen. After conversing
with Sergeant Graves in his hospital room, she’d called her wife and told her that she might be away for as long as twice what she’d planned, so Karen, who’d been driven to tears by that call, wouldn’t expect her home for another month yet.

  She dropped her bags just inside the door as it closed behind her, then slipped off her jacket and tossed it over the back of the nearest chair as she kicked off her shoes. “Karen?” she called. There was no response. She glanced at her watch. 2130 hours. Surely Karen wasn’t asleep already. She never went to bed before 2200. Especially on a Saturday night.

  She let down what little bit of hair hadn’t already fallen free of her barrettes—it had grown quite a bit over last month—and shook it out as she sauntered into the bedroom. Nothing. She checked the bathroom. Same result. Karen wasn’t home.

  She headed straight for the bed—her own fresh, clean, neatly made bed—and pitched forward face-down with a single bounce onto the semi-firm mattress like a tree falling to a soft forest floor. She sighed. Loudly. It was good to be home. 2130 hours. An extra-early bedtime and a nice long night’s sleep were just what she needed, though Karen would doubtlessly wake her up whenever she came in.

  The mere thought of sleep made her yawn and she was tempted to let herself drift off on top of the blankets just as she was. No doubt she could have done so quite easily. But she’d been wearing the same clothes, not to mention the same underclothes, for the past twenty-two hours—she’d skipped the day’s workouts—and the last thing she wanted to do was sleep in them for eight or nine more. So, as soon as she could muster the energy to move, she rolled to the side of the bed and stood up to get undressed.

  She stripped down to nothing, tossing her clothes into a pile on the floor in front of her dresser, then faced the bed and turned down the blankets. She could hardly wait to lose herself between the sheets and bury her tired head deep in her over-stuffed pillow. But she desperately needed a shower, and as enticing as the sight of her bed was at that moment, she just couldn’t bring herself to climb into it without one. So, without another second’s thought, she padded drowsily into the bathroom.

  She set the temperature to slightly warmer than lukewarm so it would be more soothing than invigorating, then closed her tired eyes, stepped in under the lightly pulsating stream, and let the water pour down over her until her hair was soaked. Then she squirted a palm full of soap into her hand, and as she lathered up she thought about how wonderful a nice long bubble bath would feel. She almost decided to take one, but her bed was still calling out to her so she quickly reconsidered. Besides, she was a little afraid that if she did take a bath she might fall asleep in the tub, and drowning wasn’t very high up on her list of things to do in life.

  She finished her shower and toweled off quickly—she didn’t feel like standing under the blow drier—then headed back into the bedroom. She went straight to the bureau, opened the top drawer, and reached in for a clean set of pajamas, but then hesitated before grabbing any. Karen was going to be thrilled to find her home when she came in. No way was she not going to wake her up to give her a proper welcome. Royer grinned at the thought and left the pajamas where they were, closed the drawer, and climbed into bed without putting anything on.

  She rolled onto her side to face the door and pulled the blankets up over her shoulder, nearly covering her head as well. The sheets felt cool but not too cool, clean and soft against her bare skin, and as her head sank deeper into her pillow, the light dampness where her hair pressed against her cheek didn’t bother her in the least. “Lights off,” she said quietly.

  A darkness deeper than that of interstellar space itself instantly filled the room. She drew a deep breath and relaxed as her hair rinse’s mildly intoxicating floral fragrance took effect and she started her journey into unconsciousness. She felt almost as though she were weightless, or as though she could leave her physical body simply by choosing to do so. The world around her grew ever more distant as she drifted off into nothingness. Drifting...drifting...

  The bedroom door slid open and a gleaming shaft of light poured in from the living room and fell across the center of the bed, piercing the darkness like a golden beam from Heaven. “Liz!” Karen’s silhouette exclaimed with excitement as it rushed to her.

  Liz threw off the blankets and greeted her elated wife with outstretched arms. “Hi, baby.”

  Karen practically jumped into the bed and threw her arms around her wife and rolled over her and pulled her over on top of her and kissed her. “Oh my God, Liz! I’ve been worried sick about you!”

  “What? Why?”

  “Why!” Karen exclaimed. “Because your ship’s been missing for over a week! Nobody even knew if you were alive or dead!”

  “Oh, that,” Liz said. “It was just a communications problem.” Karen didn’t need to know anything more.

  “We didn’t know that!” Karen replied. “Oh my God, I missed you so much!” She kissed her again, and again. “Welcome home, baby.” And she kissed her again.

  “Thanks.”

  They kissed again and Karen slid her hand down over Liz’s bare bottom. “You’re not wearing anything,” she said with a smile.

  “No, I’m not,” Liz repled, smiling back.

  As they kissed some more, Liz pushed Karen’s top up to her armpits, then slipped her hand inside her bra and gently squeezed her breast. But Karen grasped her wrist and pulled her hand back out, then rolled her onto her back.

  “No, you’re tired after your trip,” she said softly, almost whispering. “Tonight is all for you. Just lie back and enjoy it.”

  Liz stretched her arms out across the bed and dragged her hands up to the sides of her pillow. After four weeks away from home, she was indeed going to enjoy it. She was going to enjoy it more than ever. What a heavenly way to drift off to sleep.

  Karen stripped off her clothes and tossed them away, then leaned down and lightly kissed both sides of Liz’s neck, her collar bones, the little ‘v’ at the base of her throat. Then she slowly worked her way down across her breasts, gently biting and licking and suckling on her nipples, which quickly stiffened at her tongue’s touch. She threw the blankets down past the foot of the bed then resumed kissing and licking and nibbling her way slowly down Liz’s torso and through her fine crown of soft golden hair to the warm, moist flesh between her legs.

  Liz spread her legs and purred with pleasure as her wife gently, lovingly, did what she had always done so well. Before long those purrs grew into quiet moans of ecstasy, not all of them quite under her breath.

  Three quick beeps from the comm-panel startled her back to full consciousness. “Admiral Hansen to Commander Royer,” it said.

  Her next moan emerged as one of extreme displeasure as Karen stopped what she was doing and rested her head atop one of Liz’s legs with a sigh. “Please tell me I didn’t just hear what I just heard,” Liz implored aloud.

  “Admiral Hansen to Commander Royer,” the speaker repeated. “Have you made it home yet, Commander?”

  It was almost 2200 hours on a Saturday night. He wouldn’t still be working. Would he?

  “Admiral Hansen to Commander Royer,” he called again. “If you can hear me, Liz, please respond. Otherwise, give me a call at the office as soon as you get in. I’ll be here until about twenty-three hundred.”

  She sighed. Apparently he would be, and he was. She propped herself up on one elbow and reached over to the panel, made sure the unit was set for audio only, and then touched her thumb to the answer pad. “Commander Royer here, sir,” she responded unenthusiastically.

  “Ah, you are there. Good. Welcome back, Liz. Sorry to bother you this late, but I’ve been three times as busy as usual since you left and the next two days are already booked solid. Would you mind coming up to the office tonight and briefing me on your trip, so...”

  “Do we have to do that tonight, sir?” she interrupted, sharing the disappointment that shone so evidently in Karen’s eyes, even in the relative darkness. “I’m already in bed.�
��

  “Oh,” he said after a moment, apparently having just guessed what he’d done. “Uh... Sorry, Liz. I didn’t even think about... No, we don’t have to do it tonight. But I’ll tell you what. I know what these long trips do to you, so if you come brief me tonight, you can sleep in and not worry about coming to the office for the next morning or eight, barring any dire emergencies.”

  The next morning or eight? Had he just... “Did you just offer me the entire next week off, sir?” she asked.

  “Yes I did, Commander. Consider it my sincerest apology for interrupting your...sleep.” She and Karen exchanged amused looks, both grinning at his obvious embarrassment. “Unless you’d rather just come back to work on Monday, in which case I can meet you here at oh-six-thirty and you can brief me before we go to the weekly staff meeting.”

  Karen lifted her head off Liz’s leg and whispered, “Is he serious? A whole week off?” Liz nodded. “Hell yes!” Karen said as she started to get up. “Go! Talk to the man! Brief him all night if you have to!”

  Smiling, Liz said, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes, sir.”

  “So I heard. No need to be in uniform. I’ll be waiting. Hansen out.”

  The entire next week off. Eight whole days, counting tomorrow and next weekend. She and Karen would be free to go anywhere and do anything they wished. That was definitely worth the price of one late night briefing. But before she could brief the admiral, she needed to know exactly what to brief him on, and more importantly what not to brief him on. She’d been out of touch for a week. Hopefully the Tarko City station commander had forwarded his reports to her home unit and kept the admiral in the dark.

  “Lights,” she said as she rolled out of bed. She went to her desk and practically fell into the chair, which automatically activated her terminal. “Computer, search incoming personal communications records for the past twenty-eight days. Keyword ‘Graves’.”