by John Bowers
"It's still true today."
He stared into the glass and swirled the liquor. It was heavy, almost syrupy.
"I just don't get it," he said.
"You don't have to get it. Look, Rico, this isn't for you, okay? It's for me."
He looked up in surprise.
"So you're not in love with me, or anything like that?"
"I don't know. I might be."
That told him nothing, so he fell silent for a minute.
"You married?" he asked finally.
"Not any more."
"Divorced? Widowed?"
"Divorced."
"How come?"
"He was a pig."
"Why'd you marry him?"
"I was stupid."
"Did he cheat on you? Beat you?"
"Yes."
He took another sip, thinking. She wouldn't answer the big questions, but he was learning about her anyway. He kept asking the little ones.
"Where you from?"
"Italy. Venice."
"Why did you become a doctor?"
"I'm not a doctor. Not yet."
"You must be close."
"One more year of med school."
"With the experience you've had in the war, you should be able to skip the year and get your doctorate."
"It doesn't work that way."
"You gonna finish?"
She nodded. "I think so."
"How long you been out here?"
"Six years."
"You gonna finish the war? If you do, you might be too old to go back to school."
"I haven't decided. I'll see what happens."
"So what happens after tomorrow? Will we be doing this again?"
She looked unbearably sad for a moment as she averted her eyes. At first he thought she wasn't going to answer, then she just shrugged.
"I don't know."
"I really like you, Carla."
"I'm sure you do. But if I do get out before the war is over, I don't want a star-court on my record. You don't need one, either."
"I think the non-frat policy is pretty stupid, myself."
She shrugged again. "There are good reasons for it."
"Yeah, well, maybe. But when a man and a woman hit it off, there oughta be exceptions."
"We're making one. Right here."
"You know what I mean."
She finished her drink and stood up suddenly. She began to peel off her uniform.
"It's time for another treatment, Rico."
Chapter 39
Friday, 26 February, 0230 (PCC) - Orbit of Alpha 2, Alpha Centauri System
James Carson turned the helm over to Lt. Ho and unstrapped himself from the pilot's seat. He stretched leisurely, twisting himself right and left to relieve the stiffness in his back. His spine crackled like distant small-arms fire. With a sigh, he picked up his space helmet and made his way aft.
Carla Ferracci was seated in the wardroom, staring into a cup of coffee. Her job had been easy this trip — they'd picked up nine survivors, but none was seriously injured. They were on their way back to Alpha 2, and enjoyed the rare privilege of a fighter escort. Carson expected no trouble.
He drew himself a cup of coffee and settled into a chair facing his medical officer. She looked up with moody dark eyes.
"Everyone resting comfortably?" he inquired.
She just nodded.
"Your three-day pass didn't do you much good," he observed. "You're still preoccupied."
She looked up at him again, only this time her eyes were thoughtful. After a moment's consideration, she lowered them again.
"I need to make a confession," she told him.
"Is that what this is? Religious guilt?"
"No." She almost smiled. "Occupational guilt. I've been fraternizing with an enlisted man."
She looked up for his reaction. He grabbed his heart and feigned shock.
"God! Not an enlisted man!"
"It's not funny, James."
He grinned sheepishly. "I thought it was."
She ignored that. "Maybe I ought to see a chaplain," she said. "I've been trying to figure everything out myself, and I'm not getting very far."
He frowned slightly. She was more serious than he'd first realized.
"Maybe you should."
She shook her head.
"But I don't want to. I know what a chaplain will say. She'll spout service regs at me, and I don't need that."
Carson sipped his coffee quietly. Talking to Carla was like talking to his wife, except they weren't married. But their relationship was almost that close, except for the obvious missing ingredient. He sensed she would keep talking, so he didn't reply.
"James, I can trust you, can't I?" she asked, putting a hand on his arm.
"If you don't know that by now, then it doesn't matter what I say," he said.
"I know. But this is very important to me. I need to hear you say that you'll keep it to yourself."
"Of course I will."
She removed her hand and stared back at her coffee.
"I've found a man I'm interested in. But I'm afraid to tell him that."
"Why? Because he's enlisted?"
"No. Because I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid." She bit her lip unconsciously. Then he got it.
"Because of the last time," he said.
"Yes."
"How does he feel about you?"
"I don't know. He's a soldier. He just likes women."
"Anyone I know?"
She nodded slowly. "The Star Marine. The one we had to go back for."
Carson was startled. His eyes narrowed. "What makes him different?"
"I met him before. Right after Titan, when I was on liberty."
Carson remembered. "The one who tried to pick you up in a bar?"
She nodded. "I recognized him the other night as soon as he came on board. I couldn't believe it was the same man."
"Let me get this straight — he tries to pick you up in a bar and you burn him off. The next time you see him, you fall in love with him. That seems like a hyperjump, doesn't it?"
She smiled sadly. "I guess it does. But what can I say? I was attracted to him the first time. Somehow I knew he was a nice kid, the kind I might like to know. And when we almost left him to die in that blizzard … I guess he just got to me."
Carson nodded. "So what did you guys do for three days?"
"I took him into the city and fucked his brains out."
"Well, that sounds like a cautious beginning. What's the problem, then? Except for the rank issue?"
"I'm afraid."
"Why? You've already deflowered him!"
"I'm afraid of falling in love, James. I know it's silly, because he's nothing like Lucio, but I'm just terrified." She looked up with tears glittering in her eyes. "I think I'm losing my mind."
Carson shook his head.
"Nothing as simple as that," he said. "But if you're talking about love, then this is serious shit."
"I know."
"Do you love him?"
"I know it sounds crazy. I barely know him. But — yes, I think I do."
"Did you fall in love with Lucio this quick?"
"That was different. Lucio asteroided me with money. I never had a chance to catch my breath."
"Does this kid remind you of Lucio?"
"No, he's nothing like him. He's a sincere, honest kid. A little macho, but most Star Marines are like that. He's gentle, and unsure of himself. I think that's part of the attraction."
"What exactly do you want from him? Marriage?"
She lifted her hands and dropped them helplessly.
"I don't know. Marriage sounds so crazy, you know? The war is going to last for years. He could get killed tomorrow."
"So could you."
"Yes, I know."
Carson sat in thought for a moment.
"You've already had three days with him," he said. "Why don't you try to time your liberties to match
his? That way the two of you can just spend time together whenever it's possible. You don't have to make a commitment, Carla. I doubt if he expects one. A Star Marine is just thrilled to have a woman pay attention to him. Especially a woman as beautiful as you are."
She lowered her eyes modestly.
"Did he indicate any feelings for you?"
"No. He kept wondering why I was doing what I was doing."
"But he liked it?"
"Yes, he liked it."
"And you liked it?"
Her head jerked up and she peered at him almost suspiciously. For just a moment he thought he'd said something wrong. Then her expression relaxed just a millimeter.
"No," she said softly. "I didn't like it. I liked being with him, but — I didn't like the rest of it."
He lifted his eyebrows, his curiosity piqued.
"What exactly didn't you like?"
"The … The sex part." She bit her lip again and swallowed uneasily. Her eyes came up, vulnerable this time. "That's the problem, James. I — I don't like sex."
He leaned back, studying her carefully.
"What did Lucio do to you, Carla?"
The tears came. Her lower lip trembled as she stared at him, then she lowered her head and sobbed. Carson felt like a heel for asking. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry."
"No." She shook her head. "That's it. That's — that's what I'm afraid of!" She lifted her head and wiped her face with her hands. The tears still flowed. "He did everything terrible to me, James." She swallowed against the tears. "He shared me with his friends. Hoodlums. Swindlers. Pigs, all of them!"
"Your husband did this?"
"Yes. And — and I had to w-work — for one of his p-pimps, too, sometimes."
"Jesus!" Carson felt hatred well up inside him. He'd never met Lucio, but suddenly wanted to kill him.
"I went to bed with Rico because I wanted to stop being afraid. I wanted to enjoy him. I wanted to enjoy it. But — it didn't work."
Carson didn't know what to say. He'd never even suspected any of the things she was telling him, and had no training in such matters.
"All I can say, Carla, is that if you like this kid — whether you love him or not — if you like him, then keep on seeing him. Give him a chance to heal you. He might not be able to, but let him try."
"How can I tell him all this?"
"Don't. Not until you feel comfortable telling him, anyway. Just be with him, have fun with him, and see if that doesn't take care of it. If he's the kind of guy you say he is, things will probably take care of themselves."
She wiped her eyes again and stared at him for a long moment.
"Thank you, James."
"For what? I may be completely wrong about this."
"Thank you anyway. For being my friend."
He squeezed her hand. "Having you for a friend is all the thanks I need."
Friday, 2 April, 0230 (PCC) - Polygon, Washington City, DC, North America, Terra
Wade Palmer had begun to breathe easier. The battle for Altair was all but over, and Alpha 2 had settled down into a slugging contest — but the Federation was making strides. By the end of March they'd captured more than twenty percent of the planet, and though they were far from defeated, Sirian forces were steadily losing ground. More than a hundred Fed squadrons were now stationed on the planet, spread across thirty bases, with more soon to arrive. None of the carriers had been attacked, supplies were flowing steadily in spite of occasional merchant losses, and the fighter assaults from Beta Centauri weren't impeding progress as much as he'd feared.
In a nutshell, it looked like the Federation might win.
Late one April afternoon, as he was thinking about leaving the Polygon early, the vidphone on his desk buzzed. He punched the ANSWER button; it was the security desk in the main lobby.
"Ensign Palmer? You have a visitor."
Wade looked blank. A visitor? He'd never had a visitor since coming to the Polygon.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"It's a young lady. Gave her name as Dianne Love. Says you know her."
Wade's heart sagged — for a moment he'd thought it might be Regina.
"I'll be down in a minute," he said, and rang off. He loaded his briefcase with the evening's work, grabbed his overcoat, and headed for the door. On the lift down he tried to place Dianne Love. The name was familiar, but he was tired and couldn't for the life of him put a face to it.
Still puzzled, he stepped off the lift and strode toward the security desk. The guard recognized him and pointed to the Solarglas chairs against the wall. Wade turned and saw an attractive young woman sitting there. She was gazing in another direction. He didn't recognize her.
Wade glanced back at the guard.
"You know her, sir?" the guard asked.
"I don't think so."
"Want me to throw her out?"
"No, I'll talk to her."
Wade stepped through the metal detectors and walked in her direction. She didn't see him until he was ten feet away, then her eyes popped open in surprise and she leaped to her feet. She was very sexy in a black body-hugger that ended nine inches above her knees. Her hair was long and dark brown, her eyes dark and sensuous. She was quite pretty, and seemed to recognize him.
"Thank you for seeing me!" she smiled breathlessly. "I thought at first they were going to throw me out of here."
Wade stopped in front of her and stared with a puzzled frown. Up close, she did look disturbingly familiar …
"You probably don't remember me," she said, speaking quickly as if afraid of being interrupted. "We only met once. It was two years ago."
His eyes widened as he made the connection, and his gut twisted with apprehension.
"Pearl Harbor," he said. His expression told her he didn't cherish the memory.
"Yes." She stopped smiling, looked deep into his eyes. "I'm sorry about that night. I've felt rotten about it for a long time."
"How did you find me?"
"I remembered your name. You said you'd been assigned to the Polygon planning staff. So I took a chance."
She looked around uneasily. "Look, can we go somewhere? Can I buy you dinner?"
"Isn't that supposed to be my line?"
"I suppose so. But I was always too forward for my own good."
They turned and headed out of the building. A cold spring rain sifted from a leaden sky, and he buttoned his overcoat. She slipped on the raincoat she'd been carrying.
"You're not in uniform," he observed.
"No. I'm out now. Six years is long enough."
"What prompted the change? Your family?"
"No. I just realized it was time."
They reached the street, and he stopped. Hover cabs waited down the block, but he ignored them.
"Okay. What's this all about? You don't even know me."
She stared at him in subdued silence for a moment. Water from the misting rain beaded her hair.
"I don't blame you for being angry at me," she said. "You have every right. I acted like a dick that night in Pearl Harbor. I came here to apologize."
"You came all the way from Hawaii just for that?"
"I haven't been home yet. I was just separated from the Fighter Service yesterday. I came directly here from Luna 1."
He found that odd, but didn't say so. They had dinner at a restaurant that was popular with Polygoners, surrounded by uniforms of all kinds. She seemed at ease there. After a glass of wine and a full meal, he relaxed a little more. It was nice to just sit with a pretty woman and talk. Since joining the planning staff he'd enjoyed very little social life.
"Wade, I really am sorry about that night in Pearl Harbor. I just wanted to tell you that."
"Apology accepted," he said. "Still, it seems strange that you'd come this far out of your way. I've done dumb things, too, but I usually just kick myself and try not to do them again."
She stared at him for ten seconds, then laughed self-consciously.
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"You're going to think I'm nuts," she told him. "Absolutely certifiable."
"Try me."
She told him about her last battle as a gunner. About sitting for four hours in a disabled ship waiting to learn if she would live or die, and the five Sirians who turned up just as she was about to be rescued.
"I was so scared," she confided breathlessly. "I just knew I was going to die. And for some reason, all I could think about was that night in Pearl, when I was trying to get laid. And how I let you get away."
He blinked. "You're kidding!"
"I swear to god, Wade. All I could think about as those five Sirians came at me was you. I could tell you were a nice guy, and somehow I knew I had really missed out on something special, all because I let those other two jokers make the decision for me. I was more concerned about their opinion of you than my own. And I swore to myself that, if I got out of that situation alive, I was going to try to find you."
She swallowed.
"And here I am."
"So what you're saying —"
She leaned forward and laid a hand on his arm.
"I want you to take me home and fuck me all night."
Chapter 40
Friday, 9 April, 0230 (PCC) - Wallace Plantation, Texiana, Sirius 1
As the Alpha Centauri crisis stretched into several weeks, Scarlett Wallace-Vaughn saw less and less of her husband. He came home late if at all, left early, and was increasingly preoccupied. She saw the worry in his eyes even when he tried to hide it from her, and when she asked questions he simply smiled, kissed her, and assured her things were progressing nicely. He tried to spend Sundays at home, but was frequently called back. Some Sundays he didn't show up at all.
Scarlett understood the necessity of his absence, but for a new bride it was nonetheless frustrating. After several months, she returned to the plantation. Sirian Summer was approaching and she didn't want to be in the city then.
Boyd Wallace divided his time between the plantation and the shipping company, usually spending alternating weeks at each; vice presidents in each corporation kept him updated. In early April of 0230, Scarlett turned up in the plantation office as he was closing out his week. He greeted her warmly, though his enthusiasm was dampened by an awareness that when she showed up, it usually portended a complication.
"Scarlett, how good to see you! Sit down! What brings you here today?"
The pretty redhead planted herself in a chair facing him. Capt. Davenport, as usual, sat in the corner looking like a guard dog.
