Homeguard

by Jason Cordova

  “In all my years…” Lady Ravenwood’s voice trailed off. She shook her head. “I’ve never seen anyone move like that.”

  “Practice makes perfect,” Christine repeated Jane’s earlier comment. Lady Ravenwood cocked an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she continued to exhibit a preternatural calm that was soothing to Christine. Enough so that she thumbed the safety of her weapon on and slipped it into the holster on the table.

  “If Sergeant Griffon sent him, it must be serious,” Lady Ravenwood stated as she pulled a comms device from her pocket. She began to input information as Christine stood up.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because, if a Wraith trainee showed up here without Griffon’s express permission, Griffon would break his neck the next time he saw him.”

  Christine shivered as she was reminded of just where her new living quarters were and the fatalistic training method used to create new Wraiths. Commander Morales and Jonas Bright had both tried to tell her, but it had taken a long time for it to actually sink in. To make the best killers in the galaxy, they had to weed out the weak. Instead of being thrown back out into a society who didn’t care for them, failed Wraiths were simply killed and unceremoniously dumped somewhere. Esau had said something about a trash incinerator, but even now, Christine had a hard time believing such a thing was possible. Human life had to be more valuable than that. Didn’t it?

  “I’m guessing this is important,” Lady Ravenwood muttered as she continued to stare at her comms for a moment. “I’m unable to reach my husband.”

  “Try your datapad,” Christine suggested. Lady Ravenwood shook her head.

  “I don’t carry one,” she said. “Too easy to hack. I’ve heard enough stories about the DIA and DIB snooping where they have no business being. Thank you, but no, I won’t carry around a device that can be used to listen in on every conversation I have. My comms is secure enough, I only worry about people here, on base, listening in.”

  That was something Christine had known but had never given any thought to. The DIB liked to snoop. It was their job. But the way Lady Ravenwood explained it made Christine feel uncomfortable. How much of our privacy have we given up without realizing it? Christine asked herself.

  “Grab only what you can carry, dear,” Lady Ravenwood said decisively as she began to search around the apartment for Christine’s shoes. “We need to make one stop before we head out. As soon as I reach Malachi, I’ll have more options.”

  “What if it’s a drill?” Christine asked. Lady Ravenwood scoffed as she found Christine’s worn shoes.

  “Child, Griffon doesn’t do training drills like this,” she said. “The term ‘stone cold killer’ in the dictionary has his picture next to the definition. Now get your shoes on and get what you need. What you can carry only, don’t forget.”

  “Baby, firearm, extra diapers.” Christine nodded and set about gathering the cloth diapers from the bedroom. Lady Ravenwood shot her an admiring look as she returned with a carryon bag, which made Christine blush.

  “I do love your priorities, young lady.”

  “My holster works fine, and I found this carryon bag in the room,” Christine said, suddenly embarrassed. “It should work for diapers, and it has a comfy shoulder strap…”

  “Not judging, really,” Lady Ravenwood reassured her. “It’s more of an admiration thing.”

  “I’m ready to leave when you are,” Christine said as she paused in the middle of the spacious living room. Lady Ravenwood coughed slightly and pointed at her head. “Oh!” Christine blushed, mortified. Somehow the towel had stayed on her head, and she’d forgotten all about it.

  She quickly pulled it off and ran her fingers through her hair. Since it was still damp, she would have to risk the knots that were bound to form. Untangling it would be a nightmare, but it would be better than if she’d had long hair. When she’d arrived at the Academy, it had become painfully obvious that long hair was a detriment. She’d cut it on her third day and never looked back.

  “As I said, you’re an impressive woman,” Lady Ravenwood murmured.

  “I’m so embarrassed,” Christine sighed. “I must be some sight.”

  “You pull off ‘harried mother’ quite nicely,” Lady Ravenwood said. “Shall we?”

  “Wish I had time to put on real clothing,” Christine said as she followed Jane to the front door. Lady Ravenwood nodded.

  “I’ve got a spare sari stored in Malachi’s office,” the Avalonian noblewoman said dismissively. Seeing Christine’s confusion, she grinned. “My husband and I have a very healthy relationship. You never know when the mood will hit.”

  “Avalon is very different from Ceres,” Christine pointed out as they moved into the hall. She closed the door behind them and pulled Maxwell closer to her. The robe covered quite a bit, but she needed to feel her child’s skin against her. It would keep him warmer since they had to go outside briefly before entering the main building of MITC. “The nobles there are kind of prudes.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Lady Ravenwood nodded her head sadly. “Your people are stuck with the McCarrolls and the Hunts. Not to mention those horrid Johannsens. Since I don’t know the Burnetts of Bogpeat Grove, I won’t comment upon their house, but judging by the rest of them, I don’t have high hopes for their having many, if any, redeeming qualities.”

  “I forget, sometimes, they’re from my home world,” Christine admitted quietly as they reached the end of the hall. The doors to the elevator opened the instant she pushed the button, which meant the terrified Wraith trainee had used the stairs instead of the elevator meant for the VIPs. Christine felt a moment of shame before shoving it aside. She stepped inside, followed closely by the noblewoman, who pushed the down button. Worry about that later. First priority: get Maxwell to safety.

  “It’s cold out today,” Lady Ravenwood warned as the elevator began to descend. “Your hair might freeze if we’re out long.”

  “The baby will be warm,” Christine said as she pulled her robe tighter. Maxwell, snug inside his swaddling wrap and the robe, slept contentedly, and would remain blissfully unaware if she had anything to say about it.

  The doors opened, and Christine blanched. There was over a foot of snow on the ground, and more was falling. She gave Lady Ravenwood an irritated look.

  “You said cold,” she accused. “This is a little more than cold. This is a freaking blizzard.”

  “It wasn’t snowing this much when I stopped by.” Lady Ravenwood shrugged. “It’s a short walk. Brisk wind, but manageable. We’ll only be out in it for a minute or two.”

  “I’m in a robe,” Christine snapped irritably. “You know what? Let’s just do this.”

  “That’s the spirit,” the other woman said. “I’ll go first and break a trail.”

  Christine sighed and tucked her hair beneath the collar of her robe. Her hair was too short to be fully protected, but it was good enough for a quick journey through the snow. Her shoes would suffice, though she made a mental note to find some godforsaken boots in case this was the beginning of the formidable Corus winter she’d heard so much about.

  Lady Ravenwood heaved a sigh and pushed the glass door open. Immediately a blast of cold air slapped Christine in the face. Instantly regretting her decision, she steeled herself. Wincing, she followed the noblewoman as she plowed a path through the snowstorm toward the main building.

  The going wasn’t nearly as slow as she’d anticipated. Christine’s primary concern was Maxwell. Keeping her son safe and warm drove her to follow closely behind the noblewoman. Lady Ravenwood wasn’t built as well as Christine, but her lithe frame still offered some protection from the blustery winds coming directly at them. Christine was thankful Jane had gone first. Lady Ravenwood’s longer legs helped make the going faster than she could have managed, unless they ran. Christine bet Lady Ravenwood ran for fun. Which should be a sin, she thought as they reached the front doors. The snow hadn’t covered the glass yet, so they were
able to see inside. Surprisingly, she saw three individuals in the front lobby, wearing military uniforms. Dominion Naval officers, to be precise.

  “This can’t be good,” Christine muttered through the howling wind. Lady Ravenwood wrestled with the door for a moment, then managed to pull it open and stepped inside. After Christine quickly followed, she shut it. Christine’s nose began to run as her body reacted to the uncomfortably warm air in the lobby. Inside her robe, Maxwell stirred slightly but remained asleep. She checked his face and felt that it was still warm and toasty. The snow and wind hadn’t touched him.

  Her borrowed robe, on the other hand, was sporting a rather impressive dusting of snow. Conscious of her nakedness beneath, she refrained from opening it with her free hand and shaking the icy snow off. Instead she stood there, shivering, with partially frozen hair and a severe runny nose.

  Whatever conversation the three naval officers were having stopped the moment the two women entered. Lady Ravenwood, sensing a vulnerability, struck first.

  “The base is closed to tours for the duration of the storm,” she informed them tartly. “The commandant will be happy to provide tours when the storm breaks. If you wait one moment, I’ll inform him you’re here and provide an escort to take you to guest quarters.”

  “I—” the leader of the group, a rear admiral, began to speak, but he was cut off by the noblewoman.

  “I’m sorry, Admiral, but my husband is a very busy man,” Lady Ravenwood stated. She grabbed Christine, and they pushed past the trio and walked to the stairs. As they ascended, she called out over her shoulder. “You know how royalty can be sometimes. It might be a little while.”

  Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Lady Ravenwood guided Christine rather forcefully toward the commandant’s office. Ignoring the guard stationed outside, she pushed through the door, dragging Christine with her. The young agent wanted to protest, but she was slightly worried. This was a side of the noblewoman she hadn’t expected to see.

  Malachi was seated at his desk, calmly reading from a datapad. Joel was at his usual position on the couch, half-asleep, while Wil had somehow dug up an old desk from somewhere and appropriated a small corner of the office to work. He was furiously typing commands on a keyboard connected to his personal datapad and seemed oblivious to their entrance.

  The commandant looked at his wife, then at Christine, standing next to her, shivering. He spotted the baby, and only then seemed to realize that Christine was in a bathrobe, had wet hair, and was clutching a bag. Malachi looked at Lady Ravenwood quizzically.

  “Malachi, do you know there are naval officers in the lobby?” Lady Ravenwood asked without preamble.

  “Yes, Jane, I do,” he replied calmly. “That’s why I told Griffon to send a Wraith to fetch you. If I’d sent Griffon, they’d have figured out someone important was here.”

  “And they’d have recognized Joel instantly.” Lady Ravenwood nodded in understanding. Her gaze focused on Wil, who remained oblivious to their entry. “And him?”

  “Special project for me,” Malachi stated. His wife, knowledgeable about how the intelligence community worked, didn’t press the issue.

  “Related to the officers down there?” Christine asked, her teeth still chattering. Malachi dipped his head slightly but said nothing. Instead, he focused on Christine.

  “My wife’s sari is in the filing cabinet to your left, fourth drawer from the top,” he told her. “My personal restroom is behind Joel’s napping couch. The sari is made of thick material, and will be keep the two of you warm if you have to go back outside.”

  “Ballistic silks,” Joel muttered with a slight yawn. “I have some in a go bag. Bought it for you. Darker colored, but looks like a sari. Additional protection. Also, Wil bought some Class Four hearing protection earmuffs.”

  “I can’t use earmuffs if I’m on the run,” Christine protested. Joel shook his head and sat up straighter.

  “Not for you, sorry,” he corrected himself. “They’re specially made for the baby.”

  Christine walked over to Wil and kissed him on the top of his head. The applications technician, seemingly unaware, continued to doggedly work on whatever special project Malachi had him doing. She walked quickly over to the filing cabinet the commandant had pointed out and opened the fourth drawer. Sure enough, inside a small bag was a neatly folded sari, along with clean underwear and a bra. Unfortunately, Christine realized immediately, the bra would be a no-go. There was no way she could fit in the tiny thing. The underwear, however, was close enough, and featured an elastic waistband for additional comfort.

  “They’re clean, dear,” Lady Ravenwood told her as she approached. She held out her hands, and Christine understood the meaning perfectly. Handing over the still-sleeping Maxwell, she grabbed the clothing and closed the drawer. “I’m sorry about the bra. You’re more well-endowed than I am. Now quickly, go and change.”

  Not understanding the urgency in Jane’s voice, Christine followed her directions and found the bathroom. On the vanity, she found a brush that obviously belonged to Lady Ravenwood and quickly brushed out her hair, fighting through the tangles that had already formed, trying not to scream in frustration. With a few sharp tugs and some lost hair, it was finally brushed out.

  Wrapping the sari was much simpler. Christine had worn one growing up on Ceres, since the planet had been initially settled by colonists from the subcontinent of India. They were comfortable and were modest enough not to run afoul of the so-called “purity police” of the nobility. Not that she’d ever had any issues with them. The majority of the problems came from the spoiled children of the rich senators of the planet, who would oftentimes do random, idiotic things to get back at their absentee parents.

  Dressed and feeling much better, Christine exited the bathroom and found Malachi and Wil gone. Confused, she looked at Lady Ravenwood, who shook her head.

  “The people downstairs got impatient and called him directly to request an urgent meeting at the behest of Emperor Ezekiel,” she explained.

  Christine sucked in air between her teeth. Prince Ezekiel—she refused to call him emperor until it was legal and official—sending naval officers loyal only to him to speak with his uncle did not bode well for Malachi. Christine felt a terrible sense of foreboding. There was nothing she could do, though. The man was responsible for his own actions, even if Christine felt going down there without an armed contingent of Wraiths was stupid beyond belief.

  “I’ve got a live feed,” Joel offered as he pulled a datapad he’d been sitting on from beneath his leg. “We’d been eyeballing them for a while when Malachi decided to send for you. This is probably going to be his dismissal as commandant, so we figured you’d be safer in Lares without us tagging along. You’re a non-entity. Everyone around here knows Malachi.”

  Christine tucked her bag under her arm and accepted the proffered datapad. She began to watch the action on the screen with interest. It was in color, and had surprising clarity for a surveillance camera. They’d had similar ones in Jericho, but oftentimes agents in the field didn’t have the time to plant the nicer cameras. It was actually how she’d met Andrew, teaching him to build a makeshift surveillance bug on the fly. He’d been a pretty attentive student. It was one of the reasons she’d been attracted to him. Unlike some Jericho recruits, he’d shown little interest in getting into her pants.

  On the screen, she could see Malachi and Wil’s backs. The faces of the three naval officers were plain to see, and it was evident, at first glance, they weren’t happy to be there. Christine began to study their body postures and facial expressions. The longer she watched, the more concerned she became. Frustrated, she dragged two fingers across the screen to zoom in on the trio of visitors.

  There was something wrong with their faces, she decided upon closer inspection. Their body language was all wrong for individuals who were there to deliver bad news. In fact, the way the back two were posturing and lacking any military bearing, Christine began to wond
er just who was down there with the former sangre princeps.

  “Something’s wrong,” Christine murmured. Lady Ravenwood approached, still holding Maxwell, and watched the scene unfold over her shoulder. Instinctively, Christine half-turned and took Maxwell from her with her left arm. With her right she held the datapad higher for the noblewoman to see.

  “What do you mean?” Lady Ravenwood asked quietly.

  “Look at the two in the back,” Christine pointed out as she shifted Maxwell into a better holding position. “They aren’t nervous or uptight. Malachi commands the greatest destructive force, outside of a capital ship, in the Dominion, and they’re not concerned about anything. They almost seem…I don’t know, bored?”

  “The rear admiral seems pretty agitated,” Lady Ravenwood observed. Christine nodded.

  “He’s the only one who feels right, you know?” she replied. “He’s a pompous ass, used to getting his own way, and claims to represent Prince Ezekiel. Yeah, he’s for real.”

  “He said ‘Emperor Ezekiel,’” Lady Ravenwood reminded her. Christine snorted, amused.

  “I’ll believe it when I see the legal proceedings,” Christine countered. “And that’ll only happen when Darius Hastings approves the vote.”

  “Touché.” The Avalonian smiled. Her smile quickly disappeared, however, as one of the two officers in the back stepped forward and pointed at Malachi. She exhaled slowly. “They wouldn’t dare…”

  “He’s what, fourth in line for the throne?” Christine asked. Lady Ravenwood shook her head.

  “Third,” she corrected her.

  Christine’s eyes widened as the scene continued to play out. “Are they…are those restraints?!”

  “Joel, you must do something,” Lady Ravenwood declared as the argument appeared to be growing hotter by the minute. Wil stood next to Malachi, angrily pointing at the rear admiral, who looked as if he was about to be sick. However, the two junior officers flanking him were losing their cool.