Nova

by Lora E. Rasmussen

  Quietly wiping away her tears and searching for what succor she could to offer to her Captain and much more importantly, her friend, K’llan asked “How do you normally commemorate the date?”

  K’llan was startled as a burst of Avara’s laughter sounded forth at the question. “Well, it usually goes like this. Each year, Marcus and I set aside the date and find someplace to light candles for those that we lost, and raise our glasses to their memory. We then proceed to get absolutely piss–drunk to the point where we’re lucky if we can stumble our way home. The next day is dedicated to recovering, though depending on how you view the matter, I’m a bit luckier than he when it comes to the recuperation. Arca Savant and all.”

  K’llan could not help but feel the corners of her mouth turn upward at the image Serros’s word produced, even if it was bittersweet. “I can only imagine the amount of alcohol that you must imbibe to reach such a state of inebriation at all.”

  Serros laughed a second time then moved to straddle the piano bench so she could more squarely face the Vosaia. “It’s a truly epic quantity. If we’re especially lucky, Marcus and I are planetside in a bar or club and some group of rowdy fools try to pick a fight with one of us. I tell you, it never seems to end well for the rowdies. Marcus especially takes his brawling seriously.”

  Even as she smiled, K’llan could feel her eyes widen at the Captain’s words. It was hard to imagine the Shield Operative releasing her usually tightly held self–control, yet not at all difficult to picture Avara unabashedly smacking down bullies.

  Sensing a moment to understand something of Avara that had seemed too dangerously personal to ask before, long detained words tumbled out of her mouth before she could even consider halting them. “Nai Fen… were the two of you Life–Mates?”

  Serros’s smile retreated a bit at the question, but other than the expression of old sadness, she seemed comfortable as she answered. “No, we were not married. When young, we were first childhood friends and along with Marcus, as close as three people could be. Then as we got older and our teenage years came, Fen and I became more.” Shifting slightly, Avara remarked, “She was my first and I hers… and we were lovers for many years.”

  “Why did you not, as the Humans term the union, marry and become Wife and Wife? My understanding is that based on your age, it would not have been unusual for you to do so.” K’llan asked, confused over the obvious love Serros had held for the Human who had died, yet also sensing conflicting feelings she could not help but to effortlessly read.

  “That’s a bit complicated.” Serros answered, echoing Z’arr’s earlier expression. Her tone was slightly bemused but also certain as she said “I suppose, the best answer is that our life–paths were not compatible, especially for Fen.”

  At K’llan’s unconscious query, sent through the currently heightened yet ever present emotive link that the two shared, Avara answered “Fen was not suited for marriage to someone who was, at least to an extent, also married to the Navy. She became an Art History Professor at Oleron University on Pax. We tried, but in the end, it wasn’t what she wanted. The whole white picket fence thing doesn’t really sync with my chosen profession, after all. At least not how she envisioned it.” Shifting, Avara added, “Fen had just become engaged to another, a woman who was a fellow Professor at University, when she was killed during the VanDorn Strike. That was almost twelve years ago now.”

  “I am sorry, Avara.” K’llan said softly, and she meant the sentiment. Her words were directed not only at the death of the woman that Serros had obviously loved, but also the lost opportunity. Though the resultant emotions of the ended relationship were for the most part well–healed, Z’arr could read that Serros still carried a dull sense of regret.

  “Thank you, K’llan. Truly though, what I mourn most is the loss of my friend, more than what could have been. I think, the part that sometimes interferes with feeling a fuller sense of peace over the matter, is the fact that despite her dislike of being linked to someone within the military, Fen the civilian was killed due to an attack. As while I, the person with all that combat training and who routinely engages in extremely dangerous situations, was not.”

  Suddenly K’llan understood Serros’s meaning with perfect clarity, almost as if the thoughts were her own. “Ah. The irony that the very person that pursued a life of peace was killed in violence, rather than the person who pursues a life involving violence to achieve peace for others.”

  “Exactly!” Avara exclaimed, pleased. “Most people other than Marcus wouldn’t understand the distinction, but there it is all the same.”

  K’llan could feel a flush of heat spread across her pale cheeks and she knew a faint blush of blue was only too visible with the emotion. “Yes, well, I do have an advantage over most.”

  With a smile that was both knowing and sweetly innocent at the same time, Avara replied, “Yes, I suppose you do.”

  A moment later, the Captain shook her head, dark forehead locks tumbling slightly with the motion. “Well, shall we end the night with something more upbeat?”

  “Of course.” K’llan answered as Serros swung her long legs around to again seat herself face–forward in front of her Milvan.

  “Any suggestions?”

  “How about a different Human work. Aniya Arbor’s Violin Concerto No. 3, with you taking the part of the cello?” K’llan invited with a smile, lifting her firanelle, an instrument distinctly similar to a Human violin.

  “Ha! You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Serros remarked with genuine delight. “One of my Late Old–Terran favorites. We’ll see if we can switch things up from the normally, strings–only modality of the classic rendition.”

  “Very good, then. One… two… three… and four.” Z’arr counted out, and was delighted to note the shift in Avara’s mood as they played together.

  They spent the next twenty–five minutes or so perfecting the piece as best as they could, then with a brief Vosaia–fashion forearm clasp, they parted ways for the evening.

  The same questions regarding Avara’s level of comprehension about their connection as well as exactly where the two stood, still rattled maddeningly back in forth in K’llan’s mind as she retraced their earlier steps to her own quarters. Yet at the same time, the Vosaia also felt that they had definitively moved several steps closer to some form of understanding and eventual resolution.

  As she walked the Excalibur’s late–lit, night–embraced corridors, K’llan found herself quietly humming.

  CHAPTER 13

  With a sense of controlled freneticism, Lieutenant Commander Diana Adeline executed three quick sidesteps while shifting her head a microsecond before the blade of a cutlass snapped past her ear so close, that she could hear the blade sing through the air. She followed the movement up with another fractional step as a second blow attempted to cleave through her left shoulder, and with a deft twist of wrist and forearm, she deflected a third and then fourth sweeping strike aimed at her lower abdomen and right tricep.

  Staring into the forcefully resolute features of her adversary, for a moment Diana was struck by the electric thought that this was the face that Captain Avara Serros’s enemies witnessed. Typically right before breathing their last. Her furrowed brows framed dark–blue eyes that were afire with volcanic intensity, and her expressive lips were a tight red–slash above her set chin, contrasting against honey–cream colored skin that was flushed with exertion and deadly excitement.

  Moving so lightly on her feet that it was as if booted soles only briefly bussed the padded matt she stood upon, Avara began a slow circle around Diana, knees bent into a slight, energy–charged crouch. With an ease that matched Avara’s own, Adeline followed and anticipated Serros’s movements and for several seconds neither woman struck. Just slowly moved in a circuit, first clockwise then counterclockwise, and clockwise again.

  Step, step, step. One––two–two––three.

  It was if they were performing an intricate tango popular tho
usands of years ago and forgotten in the cascade of time to everyone but the two people who now rounded about one another. Adeline could feel the sweat gathering at her forehead and basting her spine under the dark–blue undershirt she wore. She could hear her own controlled breathing beating a quick staccato across the room even as her gaze never wavered from Serros’s. Knowing Avara as she did, Diana waited with alert patience.

  And… there!

  With her typically aggressive nature spurring her to advance, Avara suddenly soared forward with the terror–inspiring speed and grace of a lioness leaping upon a gazelle. Yet Adeline was no placid animal. She spun backward and to her right in a tight pirouette of a turn, entirely evading the first two downward slashes of Avara’s cutlass and then deflecting the third side–stroke.

  And then it was Diana’s turn to go on the offensive.

  Feeling the basket–hilt of her cutlass rolling against her knuckles, Diana issued five rapid strikes, each aimed with potentially lethal accuracy against Serros at a quintet of specific areas of attack. Not surprisingly, the Captain was able to parry each attempted hit with ringing precision. Yet her momentum had been lost, and Adeline could feel it.

  Avara captured one, two, three more blows with her cutlass, hilt gripped easily in her right hand. With the fourth deflection, Serros offered and skillfully executed a classic riposte towards Adeline’s collarbone; just as Diana had hoped.

  Moving with a swiftness that matched Serros’s own, the edge of Diana’s naked blade twisted and with another ringing tone, snaked up Avara’s first to the hilt, then tightly clutching her grip, Diana slammed her silver–hued basket down with bone–jarring force into Avara’s well sculpted nose and right cheek.

  Even as she struggled to see through the hazy stars that Adeline knew had to be clouding her vision at the blow, Avara still managed to react with enough alacrity to twist to the side and evade Adeline’s next attack. Yet despite her speed and skill, the Quorum Shield Operative was unable to resist Diana’s follow up as she latterly slid around Avara like water cupping a stone in a cool summer spring, heavy blade balanced delicately against the back of Serros’s neck.

  Adeline was so close that she could smell the Captain’s scent; almond–kissed hair and clean skin, faint perspiration, along with a trace of copper from Avara’s bleeding face.

  “Touch and match.” Diana announced, chest heaving with exhilaration and effort.

  “Touch and match.” Avara repeated, her normally velvet–smooth alto somewhat nasally in tone.

  A bare second later, Adeline stepped back and lowered her cutlass to her side and Avara turned, sword mimicking Diana’s in a salute. The adversary was vanquished as a wide grin split across the Captain’s face. “Superbly played, A!”

  Flushing with pleasure, Diana replied, “Thank you, Avara; you as well. ‘Twas a near thing.”

  “Ha! If only. After three years, I still call myself fortunate if I can win two out of four bouts with you.” Serros complained, shaking her head and shifting her sword–grip to a point down position.

  “Well, if it helps, take comfort in the fact that you’re the only person I know on–ship who can make such a claim.” Diana commented, knowing her tone vibrated with an affectionate mixture of cheek and respect.

  “It does. That’s the only way I can manage to sleep at night.” Avara verbally riposted in a friendly fashion.

  Negating the step between them with a single pace, Adeline retrieved a clean medicinal swipe from the left–thigh pocket of her padded blue, every–day fatigue pants. “Here; you’re a mess.” Diana noted as she cleaned the bruising scrape that stretched across Avara’s nose–bridge and cheek.

  “No more than usual.”

  “Ha–ha.” Adeline responded, just a breath below eye–level of Serros as she gently sterilized the cut. “Look at it this way: you energetically wipe the floor with me six out of eight boxing matches, and as for macti, I have yet to be the victor in a single sparring session.”

  “Mm. Well, with Marcus, I’m lucky to win only two–thirds of our bouts; guy’s a bloody–boxing machine. As for future sword–play,” Avara started playfully, “if I’m ever challenged to a duel again, I shall simply have you fight for me; Captain’s privilege.”

  “Please. Like you would ever be able to just stand back and watch.”

  “First time for everything.”

  “As they say, last time I checked, Hell has not frozen over.”

  “I try not to listen too closely to what ‘they say.’” Eyes luminescent with good–natured humor, Avara caught the wipe Adeline was using and swabbed the perspiration from her forehead.

  “And how’s that working out for you?” Diana asked, keeping up the banter, in part because unlike with most other people, she always enjoyed such given–and–take with Serros, but also to turn her thoughts from Avara’s rather distracting physical proximity.

  “Fair to middlin.’ I can send a detailed report next week.”

  “I shall be expecting it.” Diana returned. “Okay, how’s the face?” She asked as the Captain tossed the swipe into a near–by recycler and moved away to replace the dull sparring cutlass back on the wall–rack.

  Turning slightly and issuing a vague gesture, Serros replied, “Practically healed already.”

  Looking at the now quite shallow scrape, Diana could indeed see that the Captain’s claim was true. Even as she watched, Avara’s supple skin began to knit, her Physical Potency and Vitality Arca Enhancement already fast at work.

  “Nice to have a PV, I’m sure.” Diana commented as she joined Serros in replacing her practice blade on the ship’s wall rack. Dozens of swords, staffs, and short blades graced the wall. Excalibur’s B–Gym was a dedicated sparing space, after all. Indeed, two of the other three circle–outs were currently being utilized. In addition to larger melee weapons, inset retractable wall–drawers also contained countless styles of gloves and body armor for practice bouts in the space. Whether the chosen activity was fencing, knife–fighting, boxing, macti, jujitsu, kung–fu, aikido, or valhaka, the open gymnasium was more than well–equipped.

  “For certain.” Avara agreed easily, moving off the matt to the adjacent stretching area so that two respectfully waiting crewmen could take their sparring place. The Captain then began a series of exercises to both work–out various muscle groups and to prevent later cramping or stiffness. Like Adeline, the Captain also wore the tight and sleeveless undershirt all Ministry navy personnel utilized under their uniforms. Joining her in her work out, Diana surreptitiously watched as Serros moved with intrinsic fluidity and grace from position to position. The Captain was already breathing easily and the perspiration that had brushed her skin and raven–dark short hair during their bout was drying. Taught muscles rippled and played in almost mesmerizing flex and release patterns.

  With an icy grip of apprehension regarding other Arca imbued abilities she knew only too well that Avara possessed, Diana shifted her gaze and did her best to squash the particular path her wondering mind had taken. “Would you like to eat breakfast after we finish?” She queried a moment later.

  With a regretful shake of her head, Avara answered “No, I can’t. We’re due to arrive on Avex in three hours and I’ve some final prep to sift through before we drop off our friend Risha. Ben prepared and left something for me in my quarters after I left.”

  “You can always count on Bennet; best Captain’s Steward in the Fleet!” Diana remarked with a slight smile. The gymnasium’s circulating air brushed against Adeline’s body as she shifted her position, the cooling system serving as a welcome relief after sparring.

  “You know it.”

  “I have some review I should do before our meeting as well.” Diana added as she placed herself in lotus position, neck and back straight, elbows out.

  With a light, forward–falling movement, Serros slipped into a free–standing, upright hand–stand. She held the pose for a full sixty seconds, then bent her form like an old fashioned bow a
nd slowly began to pump her entire body in a series of up–right push–ups. After her second, she asked, “You feel ready?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Should be a cake–walk, given our evidence.” Avara commented as she continued the rather traditional macti exercise. “Shouldn’t take more than an… hour, and we don’t even have to be vetted in full–dress, just our every–days.’” The Captain announced, pausing between her eighth and ninth full–body lifts.

  “I personally, am looking forward to some time planetside.” Diana declared, switching her own pose to a straight side–plank position.

  “Me too. Wanna grab lunch after the transfer?”

  “Would love to.” Adeline replied, happiness coursing through her at the prospect of time with Avara alone and off–ship.

  Marcus’s words from four months ago echoed in her mind as the two continued running through the rest of their stretching regimes and tension work–out in companionable silence. Despite several stuttered attempts, Diana had as of yet not found the courage and opportunity in which she felt she could broach her feelings. There was always the mission and a multitude of daily responsibilities that seemed far more pressing. Despite her only too human evasion of the topic, Adeline made no pretext at self–deceit.

  She knew her other best friend was quite correct. It was time to step forward, and not only because of the tension her feelings for Avara created for herself, but also because as Marcus had hinted, there was indeed another that now threatened to become much more than a friend to Captain Avara Serros. Lieutenant K’llan Z’arr.

  Having known Avara for over three years, Diana was used to the Captain’s naturally warm yet somehow authoritative manner, as well as Avara’s ease in forming good friendships with just about anyone. It was a trait she’d always quietly admired for being quite unlike Diana herself, who’d always struggled to make good friends, though once she did it was for life.

  No, this situation was quite different.

  It was obvious to Adeline that Avara and the Vosaia were growing incredibly close, and though she knew their relationship was not yet romantically intimate, Diana also knew, in her gut, that the time where that potential would be tested was approaching. She could see the truth of her intuition in the specific tone of warmth Lieutenant Z’arr always utilized when speaking with Serros, could almost tangibly feel it when observing the particular enjoyment Avara seemed to experience when in the Vosaia’s presence.