Homeguard

by Jason Cordova

  Experience and life had taught her differently. The elite feared losing their place as rulers, which caused them to lash out. Fear was a motivator, but not necessarily a good one. Even the emperor, after Gabriel had told them precisely why he’d killed him and accidently plunged the Dominion into civil war, had been jumping at shadows. However, there was something else neither Andrew nor Gabriel knew. Christine was well aware of why the emperor was terrified of everything. She just didn’t know which of the five inner circle members was responsible for planting the ideas in his head. For that matter, Christine wasn’t certain who all the five members were.

  The constant juggling of persons in the positions of the four Justices had left her dizzy. With masterful political strokes, Laird McCarroll, upon taking the position of Prime Minister, had replaced three of the Justices. These four individuals were responsible for the four distinct branches within the government—the military, the constitution, the royal family, and the citizenry. They couldn’t truly make decisions, but they advised the emperor and Parliament on how to rule justly. At least, in theory. Christine had a feeling they wielded far more power than originally planned.

  She knew these four were advisors to the sitting emperor. The fifth was unknown, always in the shadows. Chief Gan had joked once that the fifth member of the inner circle had to be a spy of some sort, because the deviousness required was too much for a normal politician. The fifth member needed to be someone who could peel away the layers of political obfuscation and find the little nuggets of truth.

  The baby made a small noise, jarring Christine from her silent contemplation. She glanced down and saw those bright blue eyes staring up at her again. They didn’t look happy, and his mouth was beginning to work up a cry. Probably hungry, she deduced quickly. It had been almost two hours since she’d last fed him. Adjusting herself without being overly modest, she pulled her breast out and began to feed her child. Wil coughed and turned beet red, while the two men in back awkwardly looked away.

  “It’s just a boob, guys.” Christine sighed as the baby latched on for breakfast. Silly men, she thought and tried not to roll her eyes too hard, lest she injure herself. “Seriously.”

  * * *

  For the next week, Christine settled into motherhood by learning that being a single mother was a pain in the ass.

  The sleepless nights she could handle. She was a trained agent, after all, and sleep was for the weak. Plus, she quickly learned she didn’t need to be awake to feed the baby. So while her child was happily suckling away, Christine could take a quick nap. It worked out for both of them. The baby would be happy and fed, and Christine could get some sleep.

  Changing diapers was tricky, but she quickly figured out a system to rotate the cloth diapers in and out. She was fairly certain whoever did the laundry on the base was not amused by the crap-filled diapers, but she consoled herself with constant reminders that it was their job. She did send along a “Thank You” note once, as well as an apology. Since nobody ever complained, she figured either the note worked, or the Wraith trainees at MITC were far dirtier than a newborn baby.

  The weight loss had come as a pleasant surprise. She’d gained over thirty pounds during the pregnancy, most of it in the final month. She’d lost twelve pounds after the birth, and almost ten pounds had dropped off in the week since, despite a lack of physical exertion. Her appetite had increased; she craved steak and eggs. It turned out that the baby breastfeeding almost constantly gave her a chance to sleep and helped with the weight loss. To replace the lost energy and weight, Christine’s body craved protein.

  The hardest part of being a single mother was the inability to shower in peace. Every time she set the baby down in the crib Malachi had given her, he woke up and squalled. Generally a quiet and happy baby, he still had separation anxiety, and would invariably scream with his powerful set of lungs the moment she got the water temperature just right. She’d turn off the water, check on him, put him back to sleep, and try again. Usually it took five or six tries before she got her shower. Unfortunately, by that time, the water temperature was lukewarm, at best.

  She’d given some thought to asking Wil for help, but she didn’t want Malachi or Joel to think Wil was really the father. Joel offered to assist on multiple occasions, but it hurt her to see the similarities between him and Andrew. She wanted the image of Andrew holding their child in her mind, not of someone who looked painfully like him. However, by the fifth day, Malachi had guessed she needed help, and a woman mysteriously appeared at her door on the morning of the sixth.

  Christine opened the door and blinked as a tall, stunning woman breezed past her, into the apartment. She immediately assessed everything in the front living room before turning to face Christine. Her features were schooled in a perfect combination of understanding and pity.

  “Christine? Yes, I thought so. Here, hand me the child,” she instructed. Christine pulled the baby closer to her chest and looked around for her weapon. The woman paused for a moment before scowling. “That damned idiot…Malachi didn’t tell you, did he?”

  “Tell me what?” Christine asked as she spotted her service weapon across the room. If she managed to get closer without alarming the older woman, she could take her down and run.

  “I’m Lady Jane Ravenwood,” she introduced herself. Still wary and uncertain, Christine said nothing. The woman sighed in exasperation. “I’m Malachi’s wife.”

  “Oh!” Christine said as she struggled to recall what she knew of the Ravenwood family. They were nobility, that much was certain. The way the statuesque redhead carried herself bespoke lineage and etiquette training similar to Andrew’s. It had been common knowledge that Malachi, upon the birth of his niece, had been free to marry whomever he chose. Lady Jane Ravenwood, a noblewoman, had been his first, and only, choice. Christine now understood why.

  The woman was a force of nature. Being in her presence made Christine want to impress her, and that was a feeling the young agent was quite unfamiliar with. In fact, the last time she’d sought to impress anybody had been during her interview to join Jericho.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Ravenwood,” Christine said, uncertain whether or not to bow. While the nobility of Ceres didn’t require subservience, the customs on Avalon were varied and complex. Instead of a full curtsey, Christine decided on a simple dipping of her head. She continued, “I didn’t know…”

  “Don’t bow,” Lady Ravenwood instructed her as she began to walk about the apartment, taking everything in with a critical eye. It was obvious to Christine the woman had seen her firearm on the table near the kitchen, but she said nothing. She paused in the kitchen and frowned before turning back to Christine. Her face softened. “My husband, the well-meaning fool, probably didn’t bother to ask you if you needed assistance. I’m offering to help you. I have children of my own, though they’re teenagers now, and I remember how hard it was, even with attendants for help. Malachi asked if I would help and, after hearing some of your story, I’m inclined to assist. You’re a very brave woman to have done what you did.”

  “I don’t…”

  “You rescued Joel’s adopted daughter when armed men came to their house,” Lady Ravenwood said, obviously impressed. Christine breathed a small sigh of relief, which the Avalonian noblewoman saw, causing her to chuckle. “My husband worked in intelligence for many years, my dear. I know he keeps secrets from me. It’s his job. Whatever your secrets are, they’re safe, and will remain so. I’m not here to pry, but to help.”

  Some secrets are still safe, Christine thought as she looked around the room. There really wasn’t much to be done. She’d kept the furnished apartment as clean as she could. Screw it. I want a shower.

  “I’d appreciate your help, Lady Ravenwood,” Christine said as she walked into the living room and sat down. She shifted the baby as he let out a mewl, before burping and quickly falling back to sleep.

  “Please, call me Jane.” Lady Ravenwood smiled and sat down next to her. “There’s no need f
or formality between mothers.”

  “Thank you…Jane,” Christine said, trying it out. Surprisingly, it felt natural. Checking to make sure the baby was fully asleep, she gently extracted him from her arms and passed him over to Lady Ravenwood, who expertly took him into her arms. The baby didn’t stir, which shocked Christine. Every time she moved, he typically protested a little. The transition had been so smooth, he hadn’t even noticed.

  “Now go relax for a bit, dear,” Lady Ravenwood instructed her. “I’ve got him for now.”

  “Shower…” Christine hissed in a low voice. “Hot water. Lather. Soap.”

  “You could take a bath instead,” Lady Ravenwood suggested. “I know there are bath salts in there. Very high-end, but then, the queen consort did love her baths. There is a whirling function in the tub that continuously circulates the water and keeps it nice and warm. And there are waterproof, padded pillows to lie back on.”

  “Whatever happened to her?” Christine asked, curious. The mother of the twins was a woman who typically avoided the limelight, preferring to stay at home and avoid the trappings of court.

  “She’s very distressed,” Lady Ravenwood admitted after a moment. “We can talk about her later. Bath now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Christine nodded and carefully got off the couch. Hearing nothing from her baby, she practically ran to the bathroom for some quiet relaxation. If she took a short bath, she could be done in no time to hold him again, so Lady Ravenwood could leave. On second thought, a quick shower, she decided.

  Christine reached into the shower and turned the spray on. Hot water blasted out, and she adjusted the temperature so her skin wouldn’t be scalded. Quickly peeling off her clothing, she kicked them to the corner, adding them to her growing pile of dirty laundry. Sighing, she took a step into the shower, but paused at a noise behind her.

  “Ahem.”

  Christine half-turned and saw Lady Ravenwood standing there, a very disappointed look on her face, and Christine’s newborn in her arms. The noblewoman shook her head and sighed. Marching into the bathroom and ignoring the naked Jericho agent, she grabbed a bottle from a small stand next to the oversized whirlpool tub. With a single hand, she deftly took the lid off the bottle and dumped a quarter of its contents into the tub. Putting the bottle aside, Lady Ravenwood turned on the water. Pleasant smelling foam immediately began to fill the tub. She turned back and scowled at Christine.

  “I said bath,” Lady Ravenwood admonished as a small mountain of bubbles began to fill the tub. “That’s called a shower, dear, just in case you’re confused. The bath is behind me. Use the massage functions. Eighteen directional sprays and circulating hot water, so it never gets cold. Padded pillows for total relaxation. In the tub. Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Christine murmured, embarrassed, and turned off the shower. Under Lady Ravenwood’s watchful eye, Christine slipped into the tub and disappeared briefly under the bubbles. As soon as the bubbles touched her skin, they rapidly dissolved, changing to lotion and moisturizing her. She sighed and leaned back, allowing the jets of water to pulse over her entire body.

  “I don’t want to see you for twenty minutes,” Lady Ravenwood ordered.

  Christine nodded and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of the hot water. The scents in the bathroom reminded her of plums, and the water, upon reaching a certain level in the tub, turned off. The jets circulated the water, which remained warm, as promised. She let her mind wander and focused on her breathing, allowing her body and soul to slowly recover from the hellish eight months she’d endured since leaving Trono del Terra.

  Jerking awake, Christine panicked. She looked around for her baby, completely confused. She didn’t know why she was in the tub, where her baby was, or where the hell her sidearm had gone. As her heart raced, she remembered Lady Ravenwood was watching the baby in the living room and had practically forced her to take a bath and relax. As for her service weapon, it was in the living room, on a table near the sofa.

  Panic attack averted, Christine pulled herself out of the tub and pushed one of the buttons on the side. The tub began to drain, and Christine grabbed the plush robe hanging next to it. The white robe obviously belonged to the queen consort, but Christine figured she’d never know. Grabbing a towel from the rack, Christine quickly wrapped her hair up on her head and left the bathroom.

  She walked into the living room and found Lady Ravenwood gently rocking her son, who appeared to still be asleep. Considering it was close to feeding time, Christine marveled at the expert way the woman had managed to keep her baby asleep. Christine sat down next to Lady Ravenwood, who passed her baby to her.

  “I felt strange, thinking of him as ‘the baby,’” Lady Ravenwood admitted after a few moments as Christine adjusted the robe to let the infant feed. “Does he have a name?”

  “It’s a tossup between two,” Christine admitted. She had been reluctant to tell Joel the child’s name, but she was much more comfortable with Lady Ravenwood. Part of it was because she’d watched her child, but the other part was because the noblewoman actually cared. “I’m leaning toward Maxwell, since that was my father’s name. The other name is that of his grandfather on his father’s side.”

  “Which, judging by the way you guard the name, is either Joel or Malachi,” Lady Ravenwood expertly deduced. She clicked her tongue upon seeing Christine’s astonished face. “I’ve been married to a spook for almost twenty years, dear. I know my way around the spy business. Since I’m fairly certain you’re too old for my son—although, for a hormone-driven sixteen-year-old, nothing’s ‘too old’—and there’s no way Malachi would risk his precious manhood straying outside our marriage, I’m guessing Joel Espinoza is the baby’s grandfather. I seriously doubt Kevin would have had an affair before his death, and the youngest is an Imperfect, so that leaves the middle child, Andrew. Am I incorrect?”

  “How…?” Christine shook her head and sighed. “Please don’t tell him.”

  “Why not?” Lady Ravenwood asked, perplexed. “I thought you’d want to tell him about his grandson.”

  “I do,” Christine said in a wistful tone. “You have no idea how badly I want to. But…if I do, he’ll never let me out of his sight again, and when I continue my mission, he’ll insist I leave the baby with him. I can’t. If I lose Andrew …Maxwell will be all I have left of him.”

  “How dangerous can it be for a clerk?” Lady Ravenwood asked. Christine laughed. It was easy to forget, given the circles she traveled in, that not everyone knew what Andrew really did for the Dominion.

  “With the war on?” Christine offered. Lady Ravenwood pursed her lips for a second before nodding.

  “That does make a certain amount of sense,” she said before leaning back on the small couch. “I feel as if you’re hiding more information, but I’ll let it lie for now. Very well. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Christine said as she gently stroked the top of Maxwell’s head. Maxwell…yes, that sounds much better than ‘the baby,’ she thought.

  “Ahem,” Lady Ravenwood coughed softly, raising an eyebrow. Christine giggled gently.

  “I mean, Jane.”

  “I’m so very glad you know how to address me at long last,” Lady Ravenwood said in a prim tone.

  “Practice makes perfect, Jane.”

  “So it does.”

  Suddenly there was a harsh knock on the door. Christine and Lady Ravenwood turned simultaneously before a man burst into the room. Lady Ravenwood jerked in surprise at the man’s abrupt entry. Christine, with Maxwell still feeding from her breast, jumped off the couch in a single, smooth motion. She slid behind the back of the couch and grabbed one of the two spare magazines for her firearm. While protecting Maxwell from any potential harm, she slammed the magazine into her service weapon, slide still open. Using the edge of the table to release the slide forward, she pointed it directly at the man’s head.

  The entire sequence of events had taken Christine three seconds. Ch
ildbirth had made her a bit rusty. When she had time, she’d need to practice to get back into the groove.

  “Whoa! Shit, don’t shoot!” the man threw both hands into the air. “I have a message! Don’t shoot! Please?”

  “Young man, you’re about five seconds from being shot by an overly-protective mother,” Lady Ravenwood stated in a firm, calm voice as she regained her composure. “Now tell me why you thought it was prudent to burst unannounced into a VIP’s room?”

  “I don’t know what that means, ma’am,” he said, obviously nervous. “I was told by Training Sergeant Griffon to tell you that trouble’s inbound, and the lady there—” he nodded at Christine, who was still pointing her weapon at his head— “needs to get out of Dodge, ma’am. I don’t understand that either. I’m just following orders! Pease…please don’t kill me.”

  “Don’t wake the baby,” Christine growled. The man’s eyes were wide as it dawned on him that, in all the time Christine had been pointing the firearm at his head, her arm had not so much as twitched.

  “I’m sorry!” the man squeaked in a much quieter tone.

  “Thank you for your concern, young man,” Lady Ravenwood said as she stood up. Brushing off her pants, she calmly eyed the young Imperfect. “Now, go find Training Sergeant Griffon and inform him that Lady Ravenwood is handling this. He’s to pass the message along to my husband, the commandant. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” The man looked grateful that he was exiting with his life as he turned and bolted out of the room, leaving the door wide open.

  Christine kept her firearm trained on the doorway, so Lady Ravenwood sighed and walked over. Peeking out into the hallway, she stepped back inside and closed the door. Only then did Christine lower her arm.