by John Bowers
Scarlett was blushing and breathless when it was over, and when she tossed her bouquet, it was caught by Minnie. Everyone laughed — Minnie was close to fifty.
The reception was lovely, the food delicious, and as evening approached, the newlyweds retired to Scarlett's suite. Unfortunately, they wouldn't enjoy a honeymoon at this time, although Martin swore to make it up to her as soon as the Feddies had been defeated at Alpha Centauri.
Scarlett was nervous as she faced her new husband in her bedroom. He smiled at her with all the pride of a new husband.
"My darlin'!" he breathed. "I cannot begin to express how lovely you are. Or how happy I am at this moment."
"I feel very much the same, Martin," she smiled.
He took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly. As he continued to kiss her and nuzzle her flaming red hair, his passion increased until she could feel the tension in his body. His hands became more active and he began to press against her feverishly. She felt quite breathless herself.
"Martin … "
"Oh, Scarlett!" He moved her toward the bed, his hands roaming her petite body. He began to release the locks on her dress.
"Martin!" She broke free of his kiss for a moment, though he still held her. "My love, there is — somethin' I haven't told you."
"I'm sure it's nothin' important," he whispered, sucking at her throat.
"It might be," she said, worry in her eyes.
He stopped and straightened up, his face flushed, and looked down into her clear green eyes.
"When I was on Altair," she said, unable to meet his gaze. "I — I didn't tell you everything."
"You are referrin' to your imprisonment?"
"Yes."
Martin stared at her for a moment. His brow creased into a frown.
"Did they abuse you, my darlin'?"
She gulped in surprise, meeting his eyes. Her cheeks burned red with shame.
"I-I should have told you!" she whispered. "I don't know what possessed me to keep it from you."
"It is not somethin' you wanted to advertise," he told her. "I understand completely."
She smiled uncertainly. "You do?"
"Of course. In any case, I already knew it."
"You did?"
"Yes. I reviewed the report submitted by Colonel Huggins. I would have been surprised if the heathen bastards had not taken advantage of you. They are animals, every last one of them. You are not to blame, my love. Your only sin was bein' beautiful. Those filthy heathens are entirely at fault."
"Then … you still want me?"
"I would not have married you otherwise."
Tears gleamed in her eyes, and she threw her arms around his neck.
"I love you so dearly, Martin! Thank you!"
Vaughn proved to be something of an animal himself. Except for her virgin rite, Scarlett had never voluntarily made love before, and though her passion was strong, she fell somewhat short in that department. She almost felt trapped as he engaged her sexually, and for some minutes felt a rising sense of panic as the memories from Altair flooded back during his heated coupling. Fortunately, he finished before she lost control, and she was able to keep him from realizing just how close she'd come to hysteria.
They lay side-by-side then, out of breath and exhausted. He was quite attentive, and they spoke in low tones for some time, planning their future.
"Are you comin' back to New Angeles with me tomorrow?" he asked.
"Why, I hadn't decided," she said. "You will be so busy and all, I thought it might be advisable for me to remain here temporarily. Until you have the time to introduce me to your circle."
"I will be quite occupied," he agreed. "For the next few weeks, perhaps you should remain here. I will visit you on the weekends, and as soon as this immediate crisis is over, we can schedule an extended visit for you at my house. You have your servants here, and I am quite sure you want to be near the business operation until things settle down."
"Yes, that is a good idea."
"I declare, I will miss you, though." He kissed her.
"And I will count the hours until you return."
"At least I won't have to worry about jealous officers tryin' to sneak around and court you." He smiled.
"Of course not. They would never dare come near me. I have my own SE escort."
Vaughn's smile faded.
"Yes, there is Captain Davenport," he conceded. "I am not entirely happy about his presence here."
Scarlett looked at him in surprise.
"Martin! Why in the galaxy not?"
"Because he is SE. They have their own rules, you know. He can do anything he pleases, even to a Sirian lady."
"I am sure you needn't worry. Captain Davenport has been a perfect gentleman. And he has had many opportunities."
"He has never done anything improper?"
"Never."
"And you would certainly tell me if he did?"
"Immediately."
Vaughn sighed. "Very well, then. I shall regard Captain Davenport as a faithful and trusted servant, as long as you have so much confidence in him."
"I have absolute confidence in him. He is a Sirian gentleman, even if he is SE."
Later they made love again. Vaughn was much less urgent this time, giving Scarlett time to enjoy it, and she experienced her first orgasm, gasping with unbelievable chills when it was over. Shortly afterward, as they cuddled closely, she fell asleep.
Vaughn left early the next morning, for the Feddie crisis had not abated.
"Must you leave so soon?" Scarlett begged as he gathered up his effects and stowed them in a valise.
"I'm afraid I must," he said regretfully. He turned and kissed her longingly. "This damned war, you know."
"Have the Feddies attacked already? I have worried ever since you first told me about their plan."
"My dear, I apologize. Perhaps I misled you. The attack is not expected for some months yet. But we have much plannin' to do if we are to ensure their defeat. There's not a moment to be wasted."
She relaxed visibly.
"In that case, I am certain you will have ample opportunity to destroy them. I dread to think of such barbarians comin' here. Imagine what they would do to me!"
Vaughn gazed into her eyes and shook his head slowly.
"You must never think such things again," he assured her. "The Feddies could never get this far, not in a million years. And even if they did, they would have to step over my dead body to reach you. It simply could not ever happen." He smiled reassuringly and kissed her one last time. "Unhappily, I really must go now. Good-bye, my darlin'."
Davenport came in after Vaughn's hovercar had disappeared in the distance. He leaned against the wall and watched her, waiting.
"Nothing new," she reported. "Except the Feddie attack isn't due for some months yet."
"How many months?"
"He didn't say."
Davenport nodded, and turned to leave.
"Captain … "
He turned back.
"What will I do if you get reassigned? Now that I'm married, the SE probably has better things for you to do."
He grinned and shook his head.
"The SE works in mysterious ways," he said. "I won't be reassigned."
"How do you know?"
"Trust me. I know."
"And if I move to New Angeles with Martin?"
"I'll be nearby. Don't worry about it."
He walked out the door and closed it behind him. She sat down on the bed and stared at the wall, wishing she could be as confident.
Saturday, 12 September, 0229 (PCC) - Wallace Plantation, Texiana, Sirius 1
True to his word, Vaughn came every weekend, spending either a Saturday or Sunday at the plantation. He and Scarlett spent the time in ecstatic seclusion, making love like teenagers. It was like courting, with the added benefit of sex. Scarlett had never been happier in her life. The horrors of Altair were forgotten as she gave herself over totally to the man she loved. He came t
he last two weekends of August and the first weekend of September. But as the second weekend of September approached, Scarlett was surprised to receive a vidphone call from him. In the tiny screen, he looked distressed.
"Scarlett, my love!" he exclaimed, and she could see the conflict in his eyes.
"Martin? Why, what is it, Martin? You look as if …"
"I cannot come tonight, my dear. Please accept my sincerest apology."
"Why, certainly, Martin. I do! But — when will I see you?"
He glanced away, as if someone else were vying for his attention. He looked back at her miserably.
"I don't know," he admitted. "It may be some time."
"Why? What has happened?"
"It's … I cannot tell you, I fear. But believe me when I say it is an emergency." He glanced away again. "I'm sorry, my love. I have to go. I swear I'll call you at the earliest opportunity." He smiled sadly. "I do love you, my dear."
"And I you, Martin. Do be careful!"
He smiled again and broke the connection. Scarlett stared at the blank screen for a long moment, her heart racing. She punched the OFF button and stood up, weak in the knees. She turned and headed up the stairs.
Davenport met her outside her suite, the question in his eyes. Regina glanced over her shoulder to be sure they were alone.
"He isn't coming!" she whispered. "It must have started!"
Monday, 14 September, 0229 (PCC) - Orbit of Alpha 2, Alpha Centauri System
"Attention!" the cockpit computer announced tersely. "Approaching target coordinates. Return to normal space in thirty seconds."
Onja Kvoorik felt her pulse increase slightly as she heard the same message in her gun turret. Her mouth felt dry, not from excessive fear, but because this was a new experience. It would be the first assault on a planet outside the Solar System, which heralded a new era of the war. She checked her weapons systems one last time, making sure everything was ready. Lasers charged, autocannon charged, torpedo tubes loaded. All gun switches on. She hooked her knees over the directional controls of her turret, tightened her suspension harness. It was about to hit the fan.
"Return to normal space in ten seconds," the computer chanted. "Nine seconds. Eight seconds. Seven seconds … "
A familiar sensation rippled across her skin, like electric current, and outside her viewport the mottled grey of hyperspace flashed like lightning. She suddenly saw blackness and scattered stars. They had dropped out of warp.
"Input: shields up!"
Alpha 2 hung before them like a giant medicine ball, its oceans and continents clearly defined through light cloud cover. It was roughly the size of Terra, some twenty-two thousand nautical miles in circumference, and completely under Sirian control. Onja scanned her target holos closely, but no threats were visible. Relief flooded her for just a moment; the briefing had indicated that the Sirians knew about Operation Gang-Bang, and though the timetable had been moved forward a hundred days, no one knew if the enemy was aware of the change. There had been a very real possibility of an ambush awaiting them.
If there was, it was in the wrong place. Forty squadrons of QuasarFighters dropped out of warp within five minutes of each other, emerging dangerously close to the planet's atmosphere. Eight hundred-plus fighters, each with assigned targets, and every target a Sirian fighter base. In less than four hours, another eight hundred would appear, with more to follow.
"My HH is clear, Onja!" David Coffey told her from the cockpit. "How does it look to you?"
"No threats, at least for the moment. I think we pulled it off."
Major Madison was giving orders over the SpectraWav, then the planet outside spun out of sight as David Coffey rolled inverted and arrowed for the atmosphere, his four-ship section following. It was daylight on this side of the planet, but within minutes they entered the night side. Then they hit the atmosphere, bucking and bouncing crazily for several minutes as they gradually reduced speed to a tolerable level. Onja rode it out stoically, long accustomed to it. Soon ZF-313 was streaking through the Centauri stratosphere toward their designated target.
"I'm picking up Ladar scans," Onja announced suddenly. "They've seen us."
"Won't do the fuckers any good," Coffey replied. "Unless they've got fighters up, they're dead meat!"
Onja grinned. She loved to hear Coffey talk tough. When he got angry, or was feeling mean, he was at his best in the cockpit. She kept one eye on her target holo while she unloaded the torpedo tubes and recharged them with atmosphere missiles. Torpedoes were worthless after reentry, but until she knew for sure the Sirians weren't waiting for them, she had kept them ready.
"Four minutes to target," Coffey announced.
Onja felt the drag of heavy atmosphere as the QF angled lower, and her topography map began to take on a familiar look as she approached terrain she'd studied during the briefing. The base they were approaching was located on a mountain plateau, roughly ten thousand feet in altitude, and more than fifty miles from any civilian habitation. She wouldn't have to worry about collateral casualties on this run.
"Two minutes," Coffey said, and Onja glanced out to see a mountain peak sweep past, a black silhouette against the gorgeous Centauri night sky.
A piercing alarm filled her turret, and her sky-blue eyes widened accordingly.
"Incoming, David!" she cried. "I've got — Jesus! — nine GAMs inbound at three five one degrees relative!" On her holo the ground to air missiles — "GAMs" in service parlance — approached like streaks of lightning.
"I see 'em!" Coffey shouted, and immediately the fighter nosed up into a thirty-degree climb. Six seconds later Onja punched a toggle that fired a spread of deceptors, tiny rockets that spread out in a fan above the fighter. Each deceptor would reflect a Ladar image that looked exactly like a QuasarFighter, hopefully sending the GAMs after false targets.
"Deceptors away!" she shouted, and immediately Coffey dived for the deck, pulling out only a hundred feet above the narrow valley below.
Onja's eyes narrowed as blood raced through her veins. She had the target in sight, and as the night outside flashed white like the sun from exploding GAMs, she launched six missiles from her wing tubes, flipped the switch to auto-reload, and wrapped a slender hand around her cannon grip. Kicking the turret controls with her left leg, she spun the turret longitudinally until she was underneath the fighter, hanging upside down, with a clear shot at the ground. Explosions blossomed ahead of her, sending huge fireballs into the sky that illuminated everything on the ground in stark relief. She squeezed the trigger and the turret began to shudder. Twin streams of 29mm cannon streaked off into the night, ripping through installations, fuel tanks, and fighters parked along the apron. She saw more explosions, and then they were past, the base falling away behind. Coffey was already climbing for another pass, the G forces crushing the breath out of her as he turned the fighter in a wide bank to the right, traveling well past Mach 2.
Before the fighter completed its turn, Onja rotated her turret back to the top of the fuselage, and when the G forces abated she panted rapidly to reoxygenate her blood. Her vision had clouded during the turn, but now it cleared as they raced back downrange, and she could see the enemy base below as they passed overhead. More fighters from 313 were making their runs, and half the installation appeared to be in flames. More explosions boiled up even as she watched, yet the battle wasn't entirely one-sided. Several miles in the distance she saw two fires burning against the side of the mountain – the GAMS hadn't missed completely. A quick look at her holo showed that, of twenty-four ships in the squadron, three had been lost; as she glanced outside again she saw another explode as a GAM caught it in the nose. Flaming debris showered into the ground, adding to the fires.
Onja wondered who it was.
"Okay, everybody, this is Mad Man!" Major Madison called over the SpectraWav. "We've got time, let's hit 'em again! And watch those fucking GAMS! Use your deceptors!"
The squadron was strung out over sixty miles, six sections
trailing each other like a train. As they reached the far end of the high mountain valley, the lead section, led by Coffey and Kvoorik, made another bone-crushing turn and screamed back toward the target. This time Onja used her turret laser, burning things from forty miles away as she approached. More GAMS shrieked up to meet them, and once again the deceptors did their job, although this time one GAM exploded close enough that Onja felt the concussion, and heard fragments riddle the fuselage.
Coffey began executing a head-spinning weave, jerking his fighter from side to side as laser batteries streaked the night with murderous beams. The lasers were blinding, but only Coffey was affected; Onja's target holo showed her all she needed to see while protecting her vision. As they approached the target for the second time, she flipped her laser to recharge and released six more missiles, then trained her cannon along the dual runways that loomed directly ahead. The Sirians had been unable to get anything in the air during their first approach, but hadn't been idle. After the last Fed fighter finished its run, two enemy ships had managed to get onto the runway, and Onja could see their afterburners as they streaked forward on their takeoff runs.
"Steady!" she shouted, and Coffey immediately stopped his weave. Instantly Onja squeezed the trigger, and one of the Sirian fighters began to disintegrate. Even before it crashed, she adjusted minutely and fired again, nailing the second just as it began its near-vertical climb for altitude. Her cannon stream caught it in the cockpit and walked down its length with deadly accuracy. The fighter exploded before she could release her trigger.
"Finished!" she shouted, and Coffey began to weave again.
She rolled back to the bottom and resumed fire, spraying everything she could see that wasn't already burning. The lasers were thick as raindrops now, and even as the missiles took out several batteries, GAMs continued to reach for the attackers. Just seconds before Coffey pulled up for the last time, Onja heard an explosive bang and felt the fighter jerk as if it had been swatted by a giant hand.
"Shit!" Coffey screamed. "We're hit, Onja! Hang on! I don't know how bad —"
