Jacob’s humor faded. Catherine might not have studied under the strategists at the Academy, but she knew more than enough about how to make her vengeance stick. He held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll be civil.” She tilted her head to the side and studied him. He sighed. “Alright, I might even like him, if he earns it. That’s all you’re going to get from me.”
“Heaven forbid I get anything less.” Catherine shook her head. “Look, I know it’s hard out there right now, and I’m glad you came to visit. Don’t let it get to you, okay?”
He glanced down, avoiding her eyes for the moment. “I won’t. I’ll call you from the spaceport.”
She chuckled. “You’d better, Jacob. Otherwise you’d wish that those Odurans had gotten you.”
Jacob grunted and gave her a mock scowl. “This is the thanks I get for putting my life on the line for my country.”
Catherine rolled her eyes and mimed a tragic pose. He shook his head and grinned a little. “I will see you on the surface, Catherine.”
His sister smiled back and nodded. “See you then, Captain Hull.” She reached for something outside the scope of the projection, and her image snapped out of existence. In the sudden void, the system of Celostia coalesced into being, showing the progress of the remaining fleet craft towards the main planet. If they maintained their current speed and course, they would be able to enter orbit around the main planet in just sixteen more hours. Jacob sighed and stood up. Given that he was going to be kicked off the ship not long after that, he needed to pack a few things before he went. It was going to be a long trip, after all.
The shuttle ride from Badger was uneventful in the extreme. After the danger and chaos of combat, the descent from orbit to the planet below was routine. The pilot seemed determined to make the journey as hair-raising as possible, but the steep trajectory leveled out soon enough, and Jacob was treated to a view of the clouds in Celostia’s skies as they turned into a flight pattern that would bring them to the spaceport.
As the shuttle neared the surface, the clouds around the shuttle were painted a stunning golden pink. Jacob looked out, watching as the shuttle continued to descend. The sun was out of sight, hidden behind the edge of a window, and Jacob wondered for a moment whether it was rising or setting. With everything that had happened, a similar question could have been asked of his life, but he shoved the thought aside for a moment.
Soon enough, the shuttle swept through those clouds. As it broke into the sky below, Jacob focused his gaze on the city ahead. It was not the capital, of course; few politicians would have wanted passenger shuttles from the fleet roaring by their office windows day in and day out. Gorgen City had been founded to support the military spaceport at its edges, and widespread industries had sprung up almost overnight. Entertainment, housing, and restaurants had grown like weeds, until a blooming city of nearly four million people had come to call it home.
The spaceport itself rose outside the official city limits like a spiky, multilayered beehive. Large runways ran up to the base of the spaceport, where the facility received incoming flights and their passengers. Enormous railgun platforms sprouted from the upper reaches where they could give outbound shuttles the boost they needed to clear atmosphere. Around the building swarmed dozens of shuttles, making the entire thing look like a hornet’s nest.
Jacob’s shuttle angled for one of the receiving areas and dropped toward it. Some turbulence shook it, but it was hardly anything compared to the blow of reentry. The pilot lined the craft up expertly, and in moments the shuttle was braking to a halt near a boarding dock, its engines whining in relaxation. They came to a rest at the platform, and a light flickered to life to indicate they could begin to disembark.
Jacob waited while the other officers who’d been ferried to the surface retrieved their baggage and filed out the exit. Unlike him, they were all chatting merrily. Expressions of relief and anticipation dominated their faces, and the only chatter he caught as they made their way to the boarding hatch concerned how they would spend their short leave on Celostia before they would return to the fleet. As Jacob followed them out, he tried to emulate them and failed horribly.
As they made their way through the spaceport, Jacob’s mind returned again and again to the defeat his destroyers had endured under his command. He thought about families who would be waiting for calls that wouldn’t come, and plans his crew might have made that would never happen. The memory of the fate that had claimed them turned his false smile hollow and his step burdened. When the rest of the passengers drifted away, he felt grateful.
The civilian side of the spaceport was separated from the terminals by a layer of security. Since Jacob had only taken the small number of possessions that had survived Terrier’s destruction, he didn’t need to stop at the baggage area, and he proceeded to walk past the checkpoints and guards who made sure the shuttle bays and their environs were secure. None of the guards made any gesture to stop him, but one bureaucrat did check his identification to make sure he was actually Jacob Hull before waving him through to the area beyond.
Beyond the security zone was a bustling crowd suffused with the spirit of homecoming. Officers and crewmen were welcomed with open arms and tearful shouts of joy by the families they had left behind. Stories were told with hand gestures and smiles conveying what words could not, and more than one couple separated by distance and circumstance reunited with more passion than discretion.
Jacob had a moment to take all of the chaos in before he heard a familiar shout rise over the murmur. “Jacob! Jacob!” He turned and saw Catherine sidling her way through the crowd. Her eyes were bright, and she beamed at him as she came forward.When he started toward her, he began to smile. At least, he did until a second figure joined her.
Michael Demarcos was a big man. He stood nearly a head above Jacob, who was barely average height, and he had obviously had more than enough time to keep himself fit. His muscled bulk more than proved that much. From what Catherine had told him, the native Celostian had advanced quickly in the ship building industry, and Jacob was familiar with the strength and skill needed to run such a business. The man wore a simple shirt under a coat made of false hide and jeans to match. He was the picture of casual fashion, and Jacob hated him with fiery, burning fury.
There was one thing he couldn’t deny about Michael, however, no matter how hard he tried. During the battle with Admiral Dianton, the pirate had made a threat that had shaken Jacob to his core. He had demanded Jacob surrender, or Catherine, unaware and unprotected, would be killed by Telosian operatives. At the time Jacob had known his duty, and he had hoped against all evidence the promised threat would never come to pass.
Whether or not Dianton had been lying, before Jacob had been able to return from Reefhome a man had approached Catherine on her campus. He’d had a gun and two friends more than ready to back him up. Unfortunately for them, Michael had also happened to be passing by and saw the situation. Michael had been on them before they knew it, and all three men had been unconscious before Catherine realized what was going on. From what he’d heard afterwards, the gunman had been put entirely through a nearby wall, something Jacob could only have dreamed of doing.
Which was the only reason Jacob restrained himself as Michael reached over and put an arm around Catherine’s shoulders.
Gritting his teeth, Jacob tried to pass his expression off as a smile. He met the man’s dark eyes and extended a hand. “Michael. Good to finally meet you.”
The man’s grip was firm, and Jacob felt more than one callus marking Michael’s skin. “Likewise, Captain Hull. I’ve heard a lot about you from your sister, and I’ve been hoping to finally meet you myself.”
“Oh?” Jacob glanced at Catherine. She looked caught in uncertainty. “And what stories has she been telling you? Nothing too horrible, I hope.”
Catherine smiled hesitantly. “Well, I might have mentioned the time you convinced Dad I tried to run away on Cavazos. You know, when you had the
entire family looking for me for hours.”
Jacob grunted. “Oh please, like you didn’t do the same and worse to me. Remember when you locked me in a storage closet for half a day?”
She tossed her head. “You’re just mad the only reason they noticed you were gone was because we had some peace and quiet for once. Besides, you earned it after you lit my doll on fire.”
He snorted. “Sure, whatever you say, Catherine.” Jacob turned back to Michael. “Are you sure you want to keep dating her? Believe me, she’s more trouble than she’s worth.”
“I don’t know about that, Captain Hull. So far I’d say she’s been a keeper.” Michael gave Catherine a lazy smile, and Jacob’s sister blushed bright red, up to her hairline.
Jacob felt resentment bubble inside him, but he stifled it. After all, a few smooth words didn’t mean the man deserved a beating, right?
“Well hopefully you build ships better than you do your personal life. Otherwise the lawsuits must be a nightmare.”
Michael laughed, a big hearty sound. “Oh, they’re going to be bad regardless, but at least they keep us on our toes. Better to be worried about that sort of thing than to have something go wrong under my watch.” He shook his head. “But enough about that, Captain. I’m sure you have other things to talk about besides my business. Come on, we’ve got a car waiting to take us out to the city. We’ll get to know each other on the way.”
Jacob nodded, less due to excitement over getting to know his sister’s friend than for the chance to escape the crowd. The hum and motion of the multitude of people was getting to be overwhelming. After all, the number of people who could be nearby in one of a warship’s cramped compartments was nearly nothing compared to the people around them now. Michael led the way through the crowd, his broad shoulders naturally paving the way for Jacob and Catherine to follow in his wake. They made it through the crowd easily. Catherine leaned over to whisper at him.
“So, what do you think?”
Jacob kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. “About what?”
She elbowed him lightly in the side. “About Michael? The guy you’re here to get to know?”
He gave her an elaborate shrug. “Not much to say about him yet. After all, we just met.” Catherine elbowed him again, harder this time. Jacob grunted and glared at her. “You know, it’s in pretty poor taste to hit an officer just getting home from war.”
Catherine swung a fist at him, but he twisted to let it slide past. “It’s also pretty poor taste for an officer to deserve it. You had better be nice to him, Jacob.” The utter seriousness in her voice made him smile again, but it faded as they approached the exit. He could see a small, belligerent crowd waiting a small distance outside the doors. His sister caught the change, and she glanced in the direction he was looking, her face concerned. “Jacob, what is it?”
“You may want to go with Michael and let me get my own ride out, Catherine. That way you won’t have to deal with this mess.” Jacob felt his voice grow heavy, but he shook his head. He had known it would start at some point, but he hadn’t expected it to happen already.
Michael glanced back, then followed Jacob’s gaze. He grunted. “Damn it. Here already, are they?”
Jacob raised his eyebrows and Michael looked back in time to catch him. The bulky man smiled. “I’d hoped to get us out of here before the reporters caught up with you, but they came early. Catherine, get your hood up. Jacob, you look for a black car with a red stripe. We won’t be long.”
Jacob nodded, feeling a surprising flicker of gratitude toward the man. Michael gave a sloppy, half salute and then he and Catherine moved through the doors. Jacob slowed to a stop and watched them go, knowing the instant he was a certain distance from the doors he was fair game. The reporters failed to recognize Catherine or Michael, however, and they managed to get past the mob and into the parking structure without being swamped by the media anchors outside.
Then it was down to a waiting game. Before long one of the reporters noticed him, and they immediately turned their full attention toward him. Recording devices and cameras pointed in his direction, and a few anchors actually began speaking into microphones as if his appearance alone was enough to inspire some newsworthy talking point.
Jacob shuddered. The harassment he had to endure when he returned from Reefhome had been bad enough. They’d been waiting for him in the same place, but he hadn’t been paying attention. Swept up in the success of Reefhome and the joy of returning home, he’d blundered straight into them like a cruiser into a minefield.
What happened next remained a blur, though he was sure the relevant video clips were still circulating the media nets. To be totally honest, he’d been too cowardly to check any of them. All he knew was an ultimatum drifted down to him from Central Command the next day, requesting he restrict his comments to the media unless specifically directed to respond. Apparently his off the cuff answers revealing his perspective on the current policies of the Union had embarrassed his superiors enough to notice him, even at that stage of his career.
Now Jacob could only imagine what kind of questions were waiting for him. When he’d encountered the media craze the first time, he’d been a returning hero, if only a minor one. He was a long way from that time, now, and the failure he’d caused could only have whetted the reporters’ blades for him. Those thoughts echoed in his mind as he saw the car Michael had described pull up in front of the base. His eyes locked onto the passenger side door. All he had to do was get to the car without saying or doing anything stupid. Surely he could manage something that simple.
He started forward, his head down as if he were trying to make his way forward through driving rain. His bag of possessions was heavy slung across his back, but at least he was reasonably sure they wouldn’t try to yank the thing off his shoulders. The mild frenzy among the gathered reporters grew more intense when he reached the doors, and as he pushed the clear glass open he heard a few of them begin to shout distant questions. Jacob ignored them and headed for the car.
Thirty meters from the doors, the proscribed safety zone established for people entering the spaceport, the chaos rushed up around him. Yelling men and women in formal wear pushed microphones at him. The cluster of recorders, anchors, and reporters gathered so closely around him that Jacob had to restrain the impulse to lash out. Their questions and demands blended together into one offensive wall of self-importance and invasive badgering. His mind managed to sort them out as he continued to slog through them on the way to his escape.
“Captain Hull, what do you have to say about the Navy’s operation in Frontier space?”
“Captain Hull, the last model of warship based on the Wolfhound has now been crippled. Do you have a statement?”
“Do you have any statements for the families of the crewmen who died under your command?”
“Your critics are saying you risked your crews and ships unnecessarily. Do you have a response?”
Jacob weathered the storm of questions in silence. He barely gave any of the surrounding reporters a second glance as he waded through them and stepped up to the car. When he reached for the door handle, however, one of them actually put himself in the path of the door itself. If Jacob had opened it, the reporter would have been pushed from his feet, and he could only imagine the fury that sort of mistake would have caused. The temptation to do so anyway strained against every iota of military discipline Jacob could muster.
The man seemed to be either totally ignorant of that fact or determined to get his question in regardless of the danger. He leaned in, his microphone thrust forward as if it were some kind of old fashioned torch to guide his way. “Captain Hull! What can you tell us about your defeat in the Wayward system? What does it mean for the people of Reefhome and the rest of the Frontier? Will you now retire from active service in the Celostian Navy?”
That last question, nestled in amongst the others, brought Jacob up short. He stared at the reporter for a moment, who still remained braced and d
etermined to get an answer. The moment stretched, and a faint glimmer of hope actually shone in the young reporter’s eyes. For a heartbeat, Jacob found himself almost admiring the fool, for at the very least he had chosen his tactics and stood his ground. In spite of himself, he almost wanted to answer a question or two, if only to reward that kind of courage.
Then his momentary dilemma came to an end. The car suddenly backed up, allowing Jacob to open the door without knocking the reporter off his feet. Jacob moved quickly to do so, giving the reporter no time to step forward and regain his advantage. With a wry smile and a shrug, he met the disappointed newsman’s eyes and spoke. “No comment.” He heard Catherine laugh inside the car and dropped into his seat. Pulling the door closed meant he almost broke a microphone or two, but at least once the car started forward the reporters cleared away. He shook his head when Michael merged with the rest of the regular traffic. It was turning out to be an interesting leave already, and he hadn’t even unpacked yet.
Chapter Eleven
“You know Jacob, that last one had a good question.”
Jacob blinked and looked up. Catherine sat across from him at Michael’s side. The restaurant she had chosen for his first meal on Celostia was arranged so nearly all of the space had been taken up by tables with four chairs each. It had grated that Catherine had chosen to sit by Michael instead of him, but the burritos he’d ordered had more than made up for it. Whoever was cooking knew their way around a tortilla, and the food had been delicious enough to wipe away the memory of far too many bland, unappetizing meals on deployment—almost.
Now, however, his enjoyment was tainted by confusion and a little trepidation. The tone Catherine had used was the one he remembered whenever she was about to talk him into something he didn’t like. Or, to be more accurate, she was about to try to talk him into something he didn’t like, and hard experience had taught him that no matter how it turned out, the rest of the afternoon was not likely to be pleasant. Hoping he was mistaken, Jacob swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and coughed when the spices tickled his sinuses. “Which one? It seemed like he’d been saving every question he had in his life right for that moment.”
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