Please take care of yourself and I pray you never have to read these words. I'm proud of you boy.
With love, your father,
Russell.
A tear trickled from his eye at his father’s last words. Even in death the man was trying to dissuade him from picking up the mantle of service. “What’s it say?” RJ said. He’d again forgotten his brother was standing there. Passing the letter over something else inside the envelope slipped out clinking as it fell to the ground. Stooping down Jeff retrieved a pair of silver disks from the grass. They were his father’s dog tags. How did those get in there, he wondered idly running his thumb over the raised letters on the cool disks.
***
The week following the funeral was an unpleasant chore of setting Russell’s affairs in order. When Jeff wasn’t busy dealing with bureaucrats in the pension office he was chasing other bureaucrats trying to get titles or other property transferred to his mother. When the stress of dealing with those snakes got too heavy he’d take a break heading into town to give RJ a hand with the General Store. By the end of the week, after a particularly heated discussion with an obstinate banker, Jeff lashed out at Alex who’d been spinning outlandish conspiracy theories about the military covering something up. His mother took exception with his choice of language in the outburst. With the help of RJ, she convinced him to take a break from the task. He had two more weeks to try and clear up anything else and after some goading found himself standing in the hallway of a midsize apartment building making true on a promise.
“Just a minute,” a muffled voice called answering his knock. Jeff blew out an exasperated breath. He didn’t feel right going to see friends with his mother sitting at home in misery and his father’s affairs still needing attention. A sharp click followed by the door swinging open and Curtis’ dark smiling face greeted him. “Jeff!” he said pulling him into a hug. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jeff’s voice strained from the big man’s vice like grip.
“Laura. Laura, Jeff’s here,” Curtis called into the small apartment.
“Jeffery,” Laura said stepping from around a corner. Hints of Jamaica still tinted her voice. “Come in, come in. Curtis why are you keeping him in the door?” Jeff stepped through the threshold following Curtis who stopped to stand by his wife. A smile lit up her face and she seemed almost the size of a child when she stood next the towering build of her husband. Underneath her outward appearance of joy, the dark eyes nestled beneath a cascade of brown ringlets that framed her heart shaped face seemed to share his pain. Mimicking her giant husbands embrace, though much more delicately she said, “It’s so good to see you again. I just wish it were a happier time.” Pushing him back she cupped his hands in hers. “It’s bad enough this fool is leaving me tomorrow. But that’s not important. You’re here to forget your worries. Come with me while Curtis gets you a drink.”
“Thanks Laura.” Jeff smiled weakly. “It’s good to see you too.”
Escorting him to the sofa she pushed him down saying, “Now you sit right there, diner will be ready soon.” She planted a kiss on Curtis’ cheek before hurrying back to the kitchen her colorful skirts whisking as she went.
“I’m sorry about your pop,” Curtis said handing Jeff a glass. “He must have been a hell of a guy.”
“One of a kind,” Jeff murmured quietly sipping his drink. For a long moment he stared blankly into his glass as Curtis settled into a nearby armchair. The only sound heard apart from Laura working in the kitchen was the clinking of ice cubes accented by the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.
“Was it a nice ceremony?” Curtis asked finally breaking the silence.
“Hmm?” Jeff said looking up.
“The service. Was it nice?” Curtis paused a moment then added, “Bah. I’m sorry Jeff. It’s none of my business.”
“Oh. Oh no, no, you’re fine,” Jeff said before taking a sip of his drink. “The color guard did a good job and my mom…well, she handled it well. Better than I thought she would. Captain Styles came out. I think that helped a lot.”
“Gunther Styles,” Curtis said. “You know I’ve been assigned to his command.”
“Is that so,” Jeff said draining his glass. “Whatever you’re cooking in there Laura it smells delicious,” he called into the kitchen.
“I hope you brought your appetite! Curtis would eat me out of this house if I’d let him try. But I don’t think even his greedy appetite could swallow all this.”
“Don’t be so sure my dear. Remember I’ll be living on navy slop for at least the next two years. I plan to enjoy as much of this as I can.”
“You think I make all this just because Jeffery be coming over? Curtis you’re a fool thinking I’d be sending my man away without a proper feast.”
Jeff smiled as his best friend and wife playfully sparred. And it almost felt as if it wasn’t just for show. Pushing himself to his feet he said, “So you’re going to the Victoria,” as he strode towards the liquor cabinet.
“Yep. And I’m told their new XO is a feisty little red head.”
“She’s cute too,” Jeff said. Taking a sip of his drink he grimaced at how strong he made it. “If she’s the same person I saw at the service I wouldn’t call her feisty. More like stiff. I didn’t talk to her. But by her interactions with Styles she seems like a by the book model officer.” Turning around he leaned against the cabinet. “Almost like Dad wrapped up in a tiny feminine frame,” he said softly the momentary emotional reprieve subsiding.
Curtis breathed a low sigh. “I’m sorry Jeff. That’s twice now I dredged up bad memories when I’m supposed to be helping you cheer up.”
“Think nothing of it,” Jeff said waving a hand dismissively, “I’m going to have to get over it somehow.” Walking across the room to lean against the window frame he gazed down upon the city streets. “Heard anything about why they cut leave short?” he asked trying to change the subject.
With a harrumph Curtis snorted, “Said it was need to know, and I don’t need to know.”
Jeff forced a sarcastic laugh. “That’s typical.”
“Tell me about it,” Curtis said stepping up beside him. “You got any ideas?”
“The Drac?” Jeff joked.
“The Drac?” Curtis laughed. “Come on man, I’m serious.”
“Yeah. I guess it is kind of silly,” Jeff chuckled. Quietly he sipped his drink a moment watching the people down below go about their lives. “But still,” he said in an afterthought, “it’s weird. Captain Styles gave me a letter from Dad after the service. I found these with it,” Jeff said fishing his father’s dog tags from his pocket.
“So?” Curtis asked.
“So how’d they get into a letter he supposedly wrote?”
“Styles probably dropped them in there before sealing the envelope.”
“No dice Curtis. They told us there was nothing left of him. Just bits and pieces blown out into space!”
Curtis laughed, “Jeff you’re reading way too deep into this. They’re most likely an old pair and he just wanted you to have them as a keepsake.”
“Maybe,” Jeff mused.
“Maybe nothing,” Curtis said earnestly. “You’re getting all wrapped up in this, like it’s some kind of conspiracy or fairy tale.”
“The Drac ain’t no fairy tale Curtis. You’ve seen the news stories. Hell you’ve seen the stuff they don’t show everyone same as me. Don’t tell me the whole war was some kind of hoax to push the military agenda like my idiot little brother does,” Jeff said with a passion.
“I’m not saying that,” Curtis tried to get in as Jeff kept talking.
“Those fools always like to point out that nobody’s ever seen one and lived to tell about it. But we’ve both seen what they left behind. Those people. Drained of blood Curtis. Every last one of them was drained of blood.”
“Whoa, whoa, hey now,” Curtis finally got him to stop. “I agree. It w
asn’t a hoax. All I’m saying is you’ve got a lot on your mind and you’re looking for answers and someone or something to blame. Whatever happened out there I’m sure had nothing to do with some damned space vampires looking to pick another fight after we soundly sent them packing years ago.”
Running a hand through his hair Jeff breathed an exasperated sigh. “You’re probably right. It’s just, I don’t know, just…weird.”
Laughing Curtis slapped him on the back almost spilling his drink. The man really didn’t know his own strength at times. “You’re just overthinking it is all. Look at it this way. If it was the Drac they’d have at least told us about it. I know they wouldn’t want a panic on their hands. But they can’t expect a bunch of green flyboys to go into something without knowing what they’re up against.”
Before Jeff could think of a reply Laura called from the kitchen, “Dinners ready boys, come fill your plates.”
“Come on,” Curtis said with a smile, “Let’s go eat and forget this Drac business.”
***
“No more Laura,” Jeff said around a hunk of meat weakly trying to wave Laura’s spoon away. “I’ve had about four servings as it is. I don’t think I could eat another bite.” Washing the last spoonful down with his drink he leaned back sighing contentedly. “If I ever meet a woman who can cook half as well as you I’ll be fat inside a year.”
“Jeffery I don’t think you could get fat if you tried,” Laura laughed gesturing at his lean frame. “Look at my man,” she added, “I feed him close to this all the time and he’s not fat.”
“Yeah, but he’s about the size of a tree,” Jeff said smiling at his friend. “And about as pretty as one.”
“We all can’t be the picture of what fashion deems handsome Prince Valiant,” Curtis teased in return. Imitating Jeff he leaned back with a sigh of his own stretching his arms out then resting them behind his head.
“Well I’m glad you two liked it,” Laura said appreciatively. “Now you two get out of the way so I can clean up.”
“Let me help you with that,” Jeff attempted to protest.
“Nonsense Jeffery, you’re a guest. And guests don’t do dishes.”
“But—”
“No buts out of you Jeffery. I’m gonna count to five and if you ain’t moving I’m gonna beat you with this here spoon.”
Jeff adopted a stubborn look attempting to ignore her threat. “One!” she said tapping the serving spoon in her hand.
“I think she’s serious,” Curtis said leaning over to speak in his ear.
“Two!”
“Yeah but—”
“Three!”
“All right, all right, all right, I’m going!” Jeff threw his hands up in surrender.
“Now that’s better,” Laura laughed grinning in victory. “Curtis, get this fool out of my kitchen.”
Wrapping an arm around Jeff’s shoulders the big man said, “Come on. I don’t know about you but I could use a smoke.”
Jeff’s nostrils flared blowing out a begrudging snort. He allowed Curtis to lead him away with Laura’s laugh chasing him into the living room. After a brief stop at the liquor cabinet and humidor Jeff found himself reclining in comfort on the small balcony. They whittled away the remainder of the evening sharing jokes and stories in-between idly dreaming of the wonders they would yet see in the outer reaches of the cosmos. After a time, Laura joined them puffing happily on a cigarillo snuggling up under the arm of her beast of a husband.
The night moved far too quickly for Jeff’s liking. It felt as if mere minutes had passed between sitting down with Curtis after dinner and reluctantly excusing himself to catch the last shuttle back to Washington. The look in Laura’s eyes didn’t share his disappointment. Her husband was leaving her in less than twelve hours and her body language told what she intended to use a good portion of that time doing. After a few lingering goodbyes Laura quickly, though politely, ushered him off into the night and on his way home.
The dinner party did wonders for Jeff. Coming back to the task of his father’s affairs with a fresh attitude made short work of the task. It left him with a surprising amount of free time to reflect on the last few weeks and his coming deployment. He visited with his mother a good deal as well as did odd jobs around the house. Patching up loose boards and making other minor repairs to the old building brought him closer to his father helping to heal the wounds. It felt a little strange to be doing the things he’d tried to avoid helping his dad with when growing up. But it also felt a little like an apology for all his antics. It was truly a good way to put closure to a chapter of his life. One that ended far too early for him.
Alex on the other hand mostly avoided him those final weeks. His brother could hold a grudge with the best of them and didn’t take too kindly to Jeff’s harsh words. None of his efforts to apologize seemed to help. He did turn up to see him off, though Jeff felt as if it was more due to his mother’s prodding. Alex could be more stubborn than he himself. Pushing the angst out of his mind he tenderly folded Linda in an embrace promising to stay safe and call or write whenever he could. He shared a similar, however brief, display with RJ and Alex in kind before hefting his duffle onto his shoulder. Pausing for a final look at his home and family he kissed his mother on the cheek. Turning toward the waiting car Jeff straightened his burden taking the first step onto a road that would be wrought with agony.
CHAPTER 3:
LEAVING EARTH
Gazing out the window of the small shuttle Jeff’s knee jumped nervously while the excited chatter of fellow passengers filled the cabin. It was reduced to a muted buzz to his ears, his eyes transfixed by the slow transformation of Earth’s majestic blue sky. The gradual transition to the darkness of space was punctuated by stars of every conceivable color popping into view. They painted a vibrant mosaic of the endless expanse accentuating the vastness of the universe.
Silhouetted by the celestial backdrop, the UECN orbital fleet yard crept into view. It was a massive complex. A titanic symbol of mankind’s conquering of the cosmos. A flurry of activity danced about structure. Shuttles ferrying passengers, maintenance craft affecting repairs and star fighters zipped about haphazardly in a stellar ballet. Ringing the central hub of the command module, large docking arms stretched out forming a platform where space craft of all shapes and sizes were moored. Long hulled frigates bristling with antenna and cannons, squat heavy cruisers displaying menacingly powerful armor, corvettes, cutters, freighters, the variety seemed unending. But they all paled to the dominating stature of the giant Star Fighter Carrier the shuttle was destined for.
Measuring almost eight hundred meters from stem to stern, with considerable girth, her dark hull resembled that of a porcupine studded with guns and sensor dishes. Two docking modules which acted as landing strips flared out from her midsection rested just before the five large ion engines that occupied the final three quarters of the space faring city. Under the shadow of the massive cannons defending her surface, numerous fighter launch tubes dotted the length of her hull promising spew a swarm of attack craft should the need arise.
“UES Tungsten. Andromeda Class Star Fighter Carrier,” someone said over Jeff’s shoulder. “She’s a beauty ain’t she?”
“More like mean and ready for a fight,” Jeff replied unable to draw his eyes away.
“No doubt about that Ensign,” the voice chuckled.
Tearing his gaze from the intimidating vessel Jeff turned looking to put a face on his new companion. A man looking roughly five years older than himself beamed with pride as he leaned over Jeff appreciating the view. Under a mop of blonde hair, a neat cleft divided the man’s chin while a slight glint in his eye promised a little mischief. Eying the rank bars of a lieutenant on the man’s jacket Jeff immediately said, “My apologies for not showing proper respect Lieutenant.”
The man waved him down. “We don’t need to observe that formality crap,” he said with a smile offering his hand. “I’m Skid.”
“Skid
?” a wisp of a laugh graced Jeff’s reply accepting the firm handshake.
Taking the seat next to Jeff he sighed. “About three years ago I was stationed on the UES Union with the Pacific Fleet. First day of landing drills I was on final approach. Missed the arrestor and didn’t have enough power to get the bird back in the sky. The plane skidded the length of the deck ending up in the drink. After that the rest of the flight crew started calling me Skid. Damn name stuck like an albatross around my neck ever since. The name’s James Argo.”
“Jeff Grant.”
“Grant,” James worked the word through his mouth, “As in Russell Grant?”
It was Jeff’s turn to beam with pride. “He was my father.”
“My condolences,” James said sympathetically. “He was a good man.”
“Did you know him?”
“Never met him. But I’ve heard plenty of stories. He was a brilliant tactician and a maniac in the cockpit.”
“My Dad? You must have heard wrong,” Jeff said with a laugh. “He could have fun, sometimes, but I’d never call him a maniac. He was always pretty stern, very hardnosed, always trying to press responsibility into us.”
James barked out a laugh. “Maybe later in life. The scuttle I heard said he had a penchant to buck regulations and take insane risks. Something about routinely making suicide runs at toads—”
“Toads?” Jeff interrupted.
“Drac fighters. It’s what the vets call them based on how they look. Anyway I’m told he’d make suicide runs at groups of them and famously boasted, ‘I’ll win this war single handedly.’ ”
“That doesn’t sound like the man I grew up with,” Jeff said in disbelief. More subdued he continued, “Though he never really talked much about the war. For one thing it bothered Mom. She didn’t want to hear about it. He’d always say, ‘Boy, there’s nothing glamorous about war. It’s a filthy business, and I pray you never have to go through it,’ if any of us asked him about it.
In the Blink of an Eye Page 3
