Runs In The Family

by Kevin Ikenberry

  “So what does a sculptor do? Or a carpenter? Or a painter? Aren’t they making something real?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Then why architecture?” Andrew leaned in close enough that she felt his breath on her cheek.

  “Because it’s what I love.” She looked up into his smiling face. “And it makes me happy.”

  “You make me happy,” Andrew said as he’d leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. His eyes traced her face, and his hand was warm against her shoulder as they kissed. She lowered the sketchbook to the grass and kissed him gently in return. She was as happy as she could ever remember being. The sun warm on her back, the grass tickling her feet, and Andrew lying next to her. The memory was almost perfect.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  She startled and spilled hot tea across the desk. “Mereete!”

  Leaning against the door and dressed in a tailored black suit with a pale blue necktie, Andrew Cartner’s eyes glittered, though he did not smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Tally made no move to clean up the spill. She set the mug down gently and looked at him. Her hearts thumped loudly in her ears and she thought how handsome he looked. More like his father now than ever. “You look like your father.”

  He smiled a little. “It’s a shame you weren’t here to see me age gracefully. You are as beautiful as ever.”

  “I thought it was what you wanted,” Tally flared. “You said it would never work between us. That your father wouldn’t allow it. And that it was not good for either of our planets to continue our relationship.”

  “I did what I thought was right.”

  “For whom, Andy?” Tally felt herself flush. “For your father?”

  “No,” his voice almost a whisper. “For you, Tally.”

  The sound of his name from her lips almost made her shiver. Tally shook her head. “How could you think that being away from you was good for me?”

  “I thought I was right.” Andrew shrugged. “I know now that it was wrong. I came to say I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that, Andy? You’ve waited ten years to tell me?”

  “I’d have told you the next day if you hadn’t run away. If I could have found you. Where did you go, by the way?”

  “Back to Styrah,” Tally said. “I hopped a rickety freighter that made the hop in six months. Completely ‘off the grid,’ as you’d say.”

  “Obviously.” He paused and looked out the window towards downtown. “I stopped looking after a few weeks. I figured you didn’t want to be found. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you.”

  “That’s supposed to make me feel better, Andy? You could have found me when I got back to Styrah. And when I went to Libretto, you had to know that I was there. It was a joint initiative between our species!”

  “I knew,” Andrew sighed. “But my father had died, and I’d become Prelate then. You can imagine my life from that point on.”

  “I really can’t,” Tally said. “I have a hard time believing that you have any life whatsoever outside of your work.”

  “It’s tougher than most people can imagine.”

  For a moment, Andrew’s suit didn’t seem to fit. His eyes were not clear and bright and his personality not engaged like it always seemed to be. He was pensive and quiet, drawn into himself. There was pain in his voice and something Tally couldn’t quite understand that made her sympathize with him despite her wounds. “Why are you here, Andy?”

  “I’m not really sure.”

  Tally laughed. “Something brought you here.”

  His eyes met hers and he grinned. “Hope, I suppose. Darren told me you were here, Tally. I’d told him to let me know if you ever came back to Earth.”

  “Why?”

  “So I could apologize.” Andrew smiled. “So I could see you again.”

  Tally returned the smile and nodded in the direction of the auditorium as words failed her. She paused and smiled at him, almost saying something else, that she’d missed him for ten years. “Don’t you have a speech to give?”

  Andrew shrugged. “Remember how we used to give professors fifteen minutes to start class or we’d leave?”

  “You get twenty?” Tally laughed.

  “I believe that being Prelate means the world waits for me.” Andrew grinned. “Are you coming?”

  “I hadn’t planned to. I’m not one for speeches, Andy.”

  Andrew nodded. “I understand if you don’t want to come to my speech. I’m not a fan of them myself. But I was wondering what you were doing this weekend.”

  Tally felt her hearts skip a little. “I’m preparing my lesson plans.”

  “As one of the benefits of being Prelate, I have a retreat in Ireland. Would you care to join me tomorrow evening?”

  Tally looked away for the first time. Ten years. “I’m not really sure that I should, Andy. Can you understand why?”

  “I can,” Andrew said. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t understand that. I’ve waited ten years for you, Tallenaara. The world has changed so much since then. I’ve changed so much. I just want a chance to make things right.”

  Tally nodded. Wants of the Council be damned, she thought. Going with him even for one night seemed far better than not. “I’ll come to Ireland. As long as you promise to be gentlemanly and chaste.”

  “Some things are beyond even the promise of a Prelate.”

  * * * * *

  Thirty-Two

  “Will you look at this,” Richards said to himself. Below him a regiment of tanks accelerated in a line formation up a tight valley nearly devoid of vegetation. As the senior flight leader, Richards shook his head at the standard tactical package. Bloody suicide, he thought as he toggled the master arm switch and chinned the ground commander’s frequency. “Bullet Six, this is Lancer One with a flight of three. Do you require assistance?”

  Richards waited five seconds before he keyed the microphone again. “Bullet Six, Lancer One, do you require assistance?”

  “Get off this frequency and get your ass out of this valley!” Richards toggled the secure connection and identified the voice as Lieutenant Colonel Coffey, the regimental commander.

  Richards blinked and swung the nose of the fighter up over the ridgeline to his right. Immediately he saw a flood of Grey vehicles. Icons appeared on his tactical screen and he scanned the frequencies. “Saber Six, this is Lancer One with a flight of three do you need assistance?”

  The response was immediate, and to Richards surprise very feminine. “Lancer One, hit those bastards in the heart and turn them west into the ridgeline. I’ve got a section of vehicles up there and we can give them some serious hell. Call down retrieval for the Pathfinder team to my six, acknowledge.”

  Richards felt himself smile. Nothing like being told exactly what to do. “Saber Six, roger all. Lancer One rolling in.”

  At sixty thousand feet, Richards nosed the Hurricane over and selected his targets. “Two and Three, hit the eastern flank. Give me a thirty second interval before you roll in.” Both of his wingmen clicked their microphones twice, the universal response for pilots to briefly acknowledge a transmission. Richards rolled off the flight and made a descent towards the forward elements of the Greys. He saw tank rounds flying from both sides and a great many more Grey tanks than friendlies.

  “Weapons system to active,” he spoke clearly. “Wide dispersion, tactical nuke. Clearance is,” he glanced at the written note board strapped to his leg, “Alpha Sierra Tango Niner Five Two.”

  <>

  Targeting icons appeared, and he pushed the exospheric ramjets to full military power. Distance to target ticked off his clock in the blink of an eye. “Lancer One, nuke release.” Internal bomb bay doors slid open and ejected sixteen maneuvering warheads. Counting to two, Richards whipped the Hurricane skyward as the first of the small nuclear explosions ripped into t
he front of the advancing Greys. Rising clouds of rock and soil fell among the Grey vehicles not disabled by the blasts. Right on schedule, Two and Three broadsided the confused formation and laid thirty-two single kiloton warheads into the formation. Richards scanned the ground with a quick sweep of synthetic aperture radar. More than four hundred Grey vehicles were destroyed, and the five Slammers continued their impressive rate of fire.

  With a thought, Richards relayed the request to retrieve the Pathfinders and turned in his seat to watch all of his aircraft pulling up from the target. Across the weapons status board, he could see they still had more than a few rounds to expend.

  “Good show, gents,” Richards called over the squadron frequency. “Join on me for round two.”

  “Lancer One, this is Saber Six.”

  Richards chinned to the frequency. “Go Saber Six.”

  “Lancer One. How about next time you actually hit the targets I request? I don’t need a head-on pass! I need you to channelize the enemy towards the west! Acknowledge!”

  Richards felt a smile on his face. Someone knew how to fight without having their back against a wall. “Roger, Saber Six. Lancer One rolling in.” Richards flipped on his forward looking infrared viewer. Dirt and rock swirled around the Grey vehicles in intense vortices. “Three and Four, on my wing. Spread it out and let’s give the lady exactly what she wants.”

  * * * * *

  Thirty-Three

  Darren McMasters joined the applause as the Prelate ascended the stairs to the podium to the ovation of the faculty and students of Cardiff. Andrew bounced onto the stage and smiled widely, waving to the crowd with an energy McMasters recognized immediately. He and Andrew used to watch the videos of iconic past politicians and laugh at what had to obviously be false charisma. Surely back when politicians were actually elected rather than chosen there were a few leaders with that charisma. The world sorely lacked the likes of Kennedy, Thatcher, and Gorbachev for most of the twentieth century and all of the twenty-first. Andrew laughed that those with false smiles and low morals were not qualified to lead anyone out of a wet paper bag. Fortunately, First Contact destroyed much of electoral governments.

  Yet as Andrew gestured for the crowd to quiet and sit, his smile remained wide, energized, and genuine. Like he was truly happy. McMasters looked out from the wings of the darkened auditorium as Andrew began to speak. Even his voice sounded more confident, more...well, Andy.

  McMasters scanned the crowd, looking for the tall Styrahi with the long dark hair. He strained around the curtains to no avail. Andrew’s mood and sudden charisma could only have one catalyst. He’d been to see Tallenaara on one of his usual “I’m going to clear my head” walks.

  Satisfied, he actually paid attention to Andrew’s words, feeling a swell of emotion in his own soul as his best friend, and the representative leader of the planet, spoke in a voice long absent.

  “Friends, I am thrilled to be back here at the finest university in the solar system.” The crowd exploded in applause and Andrew smiled, sipped some water, and gestured them quiet again. “I’m here to discuss the future of Cardiff and the future of institutions of higher learning across our planet. Before I do, I wanted to share with you some good news. As you are undoubtedly aware, our efforts at war with the aliens known only as the Greys continue across the outer rim of our galaxy today. In recent weeks, the Greys have advanced over our toughest, bravest forces throughout the rim territories. Tonight, our forces are engaged in the third day of battle at Wolc. I don’t need to remind you of the tactical importance of the Wolc colony. Without access to the resources for creating Fleet Battle Platforms and other vessels necessary to this fight, our abilities to survive this war remain in question.

  “Tonight, after weeks of bitter losses and overwhelming defeats, we are on the brink of victory. Our newest Fleet Battle Platform, the Ticonderoga, arrived at Wolc today and her forces are single-handedly turning the battle for Wolc to our favor. Tonight, we stand on the edge of a declaration of the spirit not just of humanity, but the cultures of our galaxy who have said, ‘This is enough! This war goes no farther! We shall not bow to anyone!’”

  Applause roared through the auditorium. The power and delivery of his words, far deviating from the prepared speech, caught McMasters by surprise. The smile on his face grew. His neurals showed ten incoming calls, all from the Prelate’s Council, who were undoubtedly watching the spectacle Andrew was creating and wondering what had possessed him. McMasters knew the answer and the fact his friend radiated the hope he’d carried for the last ten years made McMasters smile. All was going according to plan.

  “And should they come for us? Friends, we will give them nothing! If it takes every last breath of life from our bodies, we will stand firm!”

  McMasters clapped his hands along with the crowd. Andy’s charisma, long dormant, flashed brilliantly. Turning away, a very satisfied smile on his face, he looked up into the backstage wings and saw Tallenaara. Her eyes flitted from Andrew to him and she smiled with the slightest hint of a shrug. McMasters beamed and winked at her.

  McMasters wondered about the power of love, and whether or not it would handle the storm about to happen. His neurals flashed, interrupting his reverie. Terran Defense Forces were about to take the field at Wolc and Grey ships were seen in retreat from the planet, but not on a trajectory that would take them anywhere near Earth’s sector. Finding them would now become the most important thing McMasters could influence.

  He glanced at Tallenaara, smiling as she watched Andrew, now calmer and on to his prepared remarks with a warm smile, holding court with the audience eating out of his hands. Tallenaara could change everything, he knew, but hated himself for the doubt. His concerns came with the territory. Seeing Andrew happy was one thing. His best friend had been looking for himself for a decade. Tallenaara would not only complete Andy, but unite their two species, if all went well.

  * * * * *

  Thirty-Four

  The unmistakable flash of a nuclear device cooking off caught Trevayne by surprise. Thank God he hadn’t been looking in the direction of the ridgeline or he’d be at least temporarily blind. His mind demanded he find cover, call in a detonation report, and pray. All hit his mind at the same time. He looked in the direction where the flashes appeared and saw three exocraft climbing high over the mountains, swinging in a wide turn, and descending again. The sky flashed again with nukes and Trevayne dropped into the turret. “Dossett, get me in touch with those aircraft.”

  “Sergeant Major, I’m not able to lock out their frequency.”

  “Then figure out who is talking to them.”

  “What the-?” Dossett blurted. “They’re transmitting in UHF.”

  Trevayne squinted. “Then get us on their frequency, Dossett! Jesus Christ!”

  He watched Dossett key the correct frequency and she held up three fingers. He chinned his microphone to button three and heard, “Saber Six, Lancer One, one last pass and they’re all yours.”

  Trevayne keyed the frequency. “Saber Six, this is Bullet Nine, over.” He waited ten seconds for a response and transmitted again with no response. How can I hear them and not talk to them? Fighting with one hand behind tied behind his back would get nowhere. Fast. Gripping the sides of his seat tight enough to make his hands cramp, Trevayne let out a long slow breath. He could hear the exocraft, not the ground forces. “Dossett, let me guess, we have to have line of sight to talk to them, right?”

  “Roger, Sergeant Major.”

  Trevayne keyed the microphone again. “Lancer One, this is Bullet Nine, over.”

  “I’m a little busy right now, Bullet Nine.” The clipped, stilted accent rang in Trevayne’s ears. “Call you back in a minute or two.”

  Trevayne slammed his fist into the turret wall. “Goddamnit! Driver, break to the east and get up on that goddamned ridge! Stand on that gas pedal!” He paused for a second and looked at Dossett. “Get me Bullet Six.”

  Dossett frowned. “He said t
o stay off the net, Sergeant Major.”

  “You and I both know that would never hold water.” Trevayne frowned.

  Dossett worked the panel. “We’re blocked from the frequency.”

  “Then I hired the wrong goddamn comm specialist.”

  Thirty seconds passed. “Got it. Button Two.”

  Trevayne chinned the button and heard Coffey screaming incomprehensibly into the microphone. “Get that...who authorized that nuke...where in the hell are you people? Goddamn it! I said charge! Sons of bitches on that hill!”

  Trevayne shook his head. This was going to end badly. The only commander on the ground that seemed to be doing anything about the threat was on the far side of the ridgeline with close air support tied in. From the satellite information he could see, Trevayne approved of the fight taking place. They were effectively neutralizing a full frontal attack with just five...five!... ground vehicles.

  Dossett called to him as their vehicle started up the ridgeline. “Lancer One is calling for you. Button three.”

  “This is Bullet Nine, you in command of those exos to my east?”

  “That’s an interesting way of putting it, yes.” The British voice toyed with him.

  “I need everything you’ve got on the main Grey position, about two miles northwest of your last targets.”

  The radio crackled for a moment. “I’m afraid we’re tapped out, Bullet Nine. But I’m relaying your request as we speak to Thunder Six. Keep the faith, over.”

  Trevayne popped back up in the hatch and looked around. Amidst the sour smells of burning rubber and hydraulic fluid, the scent of redolent pines filled his nostrils. For a split second, he wanted to tear off his helmet and listen to the field. All of the technology at his disposal could not replace the senses of his eyes and ears. The ridgeline loomed above him, while behind he could see the strung out lines of the regiment taking an astonishing amount of fire from the Grey position. The Grey attack across the ridgeline into the valley seemed to have stalled. Most likely as a result of the nuclear air support. The satellite download still read five vehicles in operation, though one appeared to have suffered massive failures. The vehicles were moving now, albeit very slowly in the thick woodland.