by Kimber An
Junior smiled a bit. “Do you remember when Dad and Mr. Ashley chucked that Creosian boy into the canal of regurgitating eels?” She laughed. “Seriously, he only tried to hold my hand.”
“Creosians copulate through cells on their hands and we would have gone through hell convincing all six of his parents you two weren't really pair-bonded.”
“Well, he had gorgeous gray eyes.” Junior accepted her chocolate fluff from the waiter and twirled the dark goo around the poofy white confection. “I wish I’d been born with Dad’s eyes.”
Olivia contemplated her innocent face. “Baby…you do have your father’s eyes.”
“Dad’s eyes were brown.”
“Junior, I loved your father very much, but…” A feeling struck her heart like a black dart. She saw two Intari in moss-green suits three tables away.
Kill the mother quickly or we won’t take the daughter without a fight.
“Junior!” Olivia flew across the table as one Intari drew a weapon.
Just as the shot fired and Olivia fell to the floor shielding Junior, the violet-eyed shopkeeper dove between them and took the shot fully on her own chest.
Olivia dragged Junior behind an overturned table.
The station exploded in violence all around them.
Two figures cloaked in gray leapt out of the chaos to engage the Intari, slashing off their hands and driving blades into their guts. More Intari, station security, and persons in black battled back and forth, plasma shots striking glass and shattering metal over their heads.
Sachi and another Maverick security guard squeezed between the destroyed counter, plasma pistols on rapid-fire setting. “This way, Captain! We’ve got you covered!” She motioned another guard to lay down fire and rushed captain and daughter away, backs to them, along the edges, behind the station security’s firing line.
Finding a door, Olivia pushed it open and shoved Junior in. Altogether with her security team, she hurried Junior through a kitchen and out another door into a corridor. The sounds of battle chased them all the way to the airlock.
With her baby girl safely on board, Olivia hit a wall-com as the doors closed and locked in a hiss of air. “O’Keefe to bridge.”
“Bridge here,” Lieutenant Mir’s deep Russian accent broke over com.
“Recall the crew. As soon as everyone is on board, get us the hell out of here.” She thanked God it was a civilian space station which hated United Fleet interference unless absolutely necessary.
“Aye, Captain.”
“One parsec out.” Olivia knew they couldn’t go too far. They’d be expected to provide testimony in the investigation, or assistance if station security couldn’t contain the violence alone.
“Understood. Bridge out.”
Olivia’s thoughts kept coming back to the violet-eyed shopkeeper who’d sacrificed her life to save theirs. “Junior, security lock-down.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Junior let go and strode calmly to the lift, falling into step with other civilians. She’d been born and brought up on the Maverick. She knew what to do in an emergency.
Blowing out a breath, Olivia did an about-face and proceeded towards the other lift. Already, the Maverick was disengaging from the airlock and she imagined her crew running through.
A second later, she leaned against the rail and felt the lift whir her through the ship towards the bridge.
Lieutenant Ashley’s voice came out of the wall. “Admiral Codetalker on a secured line.”
The lift door slid open on the Bridge and Olivia strode through.
“Pirates, Captain?” Ashley looked up from com.
“Unknown.”
Sachi sat in the command chair and all around her the consoles lit up like Christmas trees. Red lights flashed silently in the corners. “Station security is now requesting assistance, Captain. The violence continues.”
“Understood. Stand-by.”
The door to her ready room slid open and she walked through, stopped, and waited for the door to slide closed. “Stella, enable communications with Admiral Codetalker.” She stepped up to her gray desk, spun the computer monitor around, and struck the controls.
Graham Codetalker’s chiseled features appeared, black hair streaked with silver and tied in the back. A vivid blue Navajo banner hung behind him and he folded hands upon his desk. “Admiral Jackson is fourteen hours away from you.”
“What’s going on?”
“Jackson’s been making inquiries about Junior.”
Enter the equally overprotective godfather.
“Searching juvenile and family law. I think he wants to assume custody of her.”
“Absurd!”
“He brought down Edward. If he can’t have you, maybe he thinks he can get his hands on your daughter. It would be the ultimate act of revenge.”
Rage boiled inside Olivia, a sickening feeling deep in her gut. “I assume you know what just happened on the Kalpuna Chowla Station.”
“I’ve received initial reports. Olivia, those Intari were Premarean Guard. You know the part they played in Edward’s discommendation.”
Sinking into her chair, Olivia pressed fist to chin. “Two of the combatants used swords. Only Menelaens carry swords. It’s a religious thing for them, I think.” It wasn’t a good thing for star captains to show any weakness, but she’d need Codetalker’s help if everything blew apart. She laced her hands together on the desk. “Edward must know about Junior. He’s coming for her.”
“If that’s true, he could set off an armed conflict in the DMZ and blow apart the armistice, especially if Jackson stays on you. I want the Maverick out of the way. Your navigation is malfunctioning. There’s no way you’ll keep on the assigned path. Circle back towards Earth. I should have the red tape cleared up for your next deep space mission by then. Codetalker out.” He leaned forward, pressed a button, and was gone.
Olivia gripped armrests and pushed herself up. She made for the Bridge and didn’t look up when Sachi relinquished the command chair. “Lieutenant Mir, navigation is out. You’ve no idea where we’re going.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Mir leaned over to tap panels of light below a spatial grid. “Any particular rabbit trail we’re lost on?”
Olivia waved a hand. “That way.” She looked back to com. “Mr. Ashley, communications is on the fritz too.”
“Understood.”
Sachi didn’t request an explanation.
No one ever did.
Junior might. Her ‘Sweet 16’ birthday party was slated for that night.
Olivia settled into her command chair and let a hand fall into her lap. She might not. She grew up on this ship.
All around her, the Bridge crew worked silently.
Safe in their quarters, civilians quietly occupied themselves, waiting for the next order. As unruly as Junior could be, security lock-down was as normal to her as brushing teeth before bed. Come to think of it, she’d had six previous birthday parties postponed at the last moment and never complained.
Breathe in, breathe out.
It was true Junior had seen her share of action, growing up the Captain’s Brat on a deep space starship. But, she’s never been the target of simultaneous attacks by three different entities. If Jackson’s in bed with the Intari again, why is he still 14 hours out?
Olivia shook the dilemma from her head. Whatever the case, she couldn’t tell Junior about her father now. Once we’re safely back in deep space, I’ll tell her everything.
Med-bay was Junior’s designated lock-down area, because she and the other teens were qualified field medics. She stood before a storage unit with scanner in hand, checking each emergency medical kit locked behind the little doors. Concentrating on the tedious work was made even more difficult by the flashing red lights, irritating her senses. If Isaiah noticed how much pain she was in, he’d realize the medication was no longer working. There’d be more scans, more maternal freak-outs, and more medication to dull her.
Silently, the nurses and other me
dical technicians worked with Isaiah, getting the medical bay ready for triage. It was the same routine Junior had always known, even before she actively participated.
She wiped a sleeved forearm over face and sniffed. Her whole head throbbed and a deep, inexplicable grief churned in her stomach.
“Mine check out.” Ret stood suddenly beside her, scanner in hand. “You almost done?”
“Yeah.”
Cocking his head, Ret peered into her face. “Junior, you’re a freakin’ mess.”
“You always say that!” Junior clamped her teeth shut tight for a few seconds and hoped Isaiah hadn’t noticed her anger flash. She released her teeth enough to growl. “You think I don’t know?”
“Sorry.”
“I need to use the ‘little Martian’s room.’” Junior crammed the scanner into the recharger and strode for the door. But, she didn’t go to the restroom.
A huge breath of some relief filled her lungs when the door slid closed behind her. Yet, the rage still boiled within. Everyone wants me to be normal, but no one wants to listen to what’s wrong. She skipped the lift and climbed the work conduits up a deck.
Junior found the HRC empty. Everyone else was at tactical alert or security lock-down, which was where she ought to have been. She couldn’t let anyone witness her meltdown though. Mom, Isaiah, and all the rest, they thought she was doing well. It certainly was a lot easier on them for her to be on meds. “I’m a freak. Why am I such a freak?” She started pacing, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.
The primal scream welled up in her like a volcano until she fell to her knees and it ripped out of her chest, ricocheting off the blank HRC walls.
In a dark bedchamber, Edward Delano leapt out of deep sleep and ripped his sword from the wall. Thrusting it forward in battle stance, his bare chest went cold when sweat mixed with air. Olivia?
Adjusting to the starlight passing his ship, he scanned his Spartan quarters. Another disembodied scream. Another bad dream. He was used to bad dreams. He’d been a dead man walking for so long.
Threat hung in the air, a phantom he could not attack. Delano swung the sword around one side of his body and then the other. Relaxing, he slid the flat over two fingers and found his desk chair. He propped legs up and leaned back.
Seconds passed and he polished his sword with a soft, white cloth. The silver-toned blade glistened in the starlight, Celtic swirls running down the flat. The golden hand guards and ringed pommel shone as though in their own energy. He picked up another cloth and conditioned the brown leather double-grip hilt.
The sword, Aodhan, looked as new as the day his wife had rested it on his finger tips, concluding their wedding ceremony. Of course, it wasn’t new at all. The O’Keefe family home in Dublin was invaded by mercenaries over a thousand years before. An ancestress took the leader with his own sword and the others fled upon seeing her draw it from his bloody corpse.
Delano’s lips curled, remembering Olivia telling the story.
A beep brought him out of memory. He tapped a desk-com. “Speak.”
The voice of his Primary Kaiya commander filled the room. “Captain Delano,” she said. “We confirm the attack on the Ladies Olivia and Rowan on the Kalpuna Chowla Station. They escaped unharmed and the Maverick is safely away.”
Delano set the sword back in its black case. “Who were the attackers?”
“Agents of the Intari Premarean Guard. The Orachi…”
“Orachi?” Delano lowered the case lid.
“These Orachi defended the Ladies. They did not try to kill them.”
“Lord Kaliban.” Delano stood and rubbed his throbbing head.
“With Prince Ariez dead, marriage to a red-haired female could elevate him to Imperial Heir Designate once Princess Ara succeeds the Throne.”
Groan. “I haven’t even brought my wife and daughter under my protection yet and already the dragons are circling.”
“There was one other Menelaen present, Captain.”
Delano dropped his hand. “Who?”
“Meshell, daughter of the Empress’ most trusted servant and Bishop Trihn, imperial companion to the deceased Prince Ariez. She accompanied the Prince when he left Menelae on a quest for the Holy Bennu and had been presumed dead as well.”
“Bring her in for questioning, but as a guest.”
“Meshell took the shot meant to kill your wife, Captain. We have retrieved her body for pious burial.”
Delano pressed palms to desk. “Why would a member of the Imperial Household sacrifice her life to save Olivia?”
“Captain, your wife has red hair. Meshell was deeply religious. Her father was the Bishop.”
Delano took one step around his desk and passed gaze over the stars. For a moment, he considered that his family might be safer on the human side of the DMZ after all.
“Captain, there is one more issue. Admiral Jackson was 14 hours away from the station when the attack occurred. He laid in an intercept course with the Maverick when it departed. I am relieved to report the Maverick vanished off sensors soon after. The Admiral has begun a full spectrum sweep of the area. He has not located her.”
This revelation burned, coming up Delano’s throat, but it did put an end to his doubts. “We absolutely cannot allow my wife and daughter to fall into Jackson’s hands. I trust you’ve not lost track of the Maverick.”
“We have not, Captain. The Maverick will enter our security net in five months, nine days after the Bennuvian calendar. Your resurrection is at hand.”
***
Dreamtime.
Junior climbed the rope ladder up into their tree house and found him sitting against the redwood tree trunk.
Ariez propped elbows on knees and held head in both hands.
She knelt beside him. “You’re grieving…like when your father was murdered.”
He lifted his wet, red face. “Meshell…she was a sister to me, greater than Ara could ever be, the daughter of my nanny and religious tutor.”
“How did it happen?” Junior sat cross-legged, his grief flooding her heart.
“There was a battle on the Kalpuna Chowla Station. She took the shot meant to kill you.”
Horror. “Kill me? She… Why would anyone…”
Ariez took her into his arms and held her close, face against his neck. “Meshell and I grew up reading the stories together, acting them out, and dreaming of the day we seek out the Holy Bennu.”
“What’s a boo-noo?”
“Holy Bennu.” Ariez lifted her chin betwixt thumb and forefinger. “You are the Holy Bennu.”
“Me?” Junior caught a laugh in her throat. “Sachi’d die if she heard anyone call me ‘holy!’”
“Your wings are unfurling even now.”
Chapter 5
JANUARY 2298
Junior finished scrubbing the Mess Hall windowsill and dropped the giant sponge into the bucket. She sat back on her legs and glared over her shoulder at Chef Bot whipping up breakfast in the galley. I don’t know why he freaked out so much. It was New Year’s Eve, for crying out loud. She wrung her sponge out in the bucket. Using the old fashioned cleaning things was her mother’s idea.
Having to clean up the Mess Hall was not as unpleasant as dreading the medical exam which would follow. She’d overheard Isaiah tell her mom she was the only case of incurable ADHD in thirty years. The food fight had tipped him off about her ADHD meds no longer working. Now, there’d be lots more scans and getting jerked back and forth by different drugs and dosages.
Tears burned on her cheeks.
“Isaiah to Junior.” His voice summoned her attention over intra-ship com.
“Junior here.” She scrubbed jelly off the lower wall.
“Mr. Ashley got me through to Dr. Williams. Jakoby wants to talk to you when we’re through, so you’d better hurry up.”
“Jakoby?”
“Don’t tell me there’s trouble in adolescent paradise already.”
What the hell? Who’s Jakoby?
Oh, schmutz. He thinks I’ve forgotten stuff again. Junior thought fast, but came up empty. “I’m all right. I’d rather clean than Mess Hall than the magna-converters.”
A few seconds passed in silence. “All right then, but you get down here the minute you start spinning in circles and dancing on the ceiling.”
Roll the eyes. “Fine. Junior out.” She scrubbed, hoping she could think of something in the extra time she had before the scans. No more hiding and no way to avoid the maternal freak-out.
Something glimmered among the muck on the floor. She picked it up and grinned. A kebob skewer! She checked to see if Chef’s back was turned and pushed the last bits of roasted vegetables off. Standing up and stepping out, she began to whip it around her body like she’d seen Sachi do with her katana sword. She was sure she looked just like a Japanese samurai. Spinning around for the one-cut/one-kill, the skewer stuck into a Hitachi melon and spun off the tip on the upswing.
Smash! Right into the wall next to Chef’s head!
“Oh, I am so sorry!” Junior cupped hand to cheek.
“Junior!” Chef’s hands went to his hips. Being half-Intari, his skin tone of red showed his frustration with her. Being half-Jewish-from-Queens, New York, he sputtered some Yiddish expletives too and ordered, “Drop that!"
She obeyed. The skewer landed in a pool of pudding.
“What is it with you and swords?”
“I…I don’t know.” Junior shrugged. “I’m really sorry.”
Chef Bot grumped. “Get back to work. The breakfast crowd will be here in an hour.” He stomped over and picked up the skewer and stomped back.
Ret always helped out before school, but was in detention for putting a bloat-frog in the teacher’s chair.
Chef was on his own in the galley, which doubled his crankiness.
Rehama had ducked out before Mom broke up the fight.
