by T. M. Catron
“Not as a student, but I was there. Undercover as an officer.”
“And the Renegade and Destroyers you served on?”
“Again, undercover.”
Rance finished off the cake and looked at him. The haunted look had passed, and she was glad of her decision to direct the conversation elsewhere. She wasn’t any less curious though.
“You do get around,” she said. “It must be hard to stay happy on a small space cruiser when you can have all that undercover excitement.”
“I don’t know,” Solaris said thoughtfully. “There’s been quite enough excitement for me here. Before you hired me, did you always get into so much trouble? Or is that just something that happened after you had me around to get you out of jams?”
Rance scoffed. “I got out of plenty of tight spots before I met you. Which reminds me.”
Solaris raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“What did you do to me on Prometheus? In the crowd.” She didn’t have to add that it was after they’d found out about Sonya’s death. Solaris would know what she meant. Rance had been furious with the pirates. He had used some sort of trick to calm her down and probably saved her life. Attacking those pirates alone would have been suicide.
“Are you offended?” he asked.
“At first.”
Solaris frowned. “And now?”
“No. I know you were only trying to help. But we’ve never talked about this.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that you are the most powerful man I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t think about me that way. I’m the same as you.”
“Yeah right.”
“I am. Listen, Captain, I’d prefer you to think of me as an ordinary guy.”
Rance leaned forward, placing her hands on the table. “Solaris, your powers are beyond comprehension. I could never beat you in a fight. And you’re on board my ship, running loose.”
Amusement flashed in his eyes. “Running loose? I’m not a pet who wreaks havoc. You already have one of those.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what? You’re not afraid of me.”
Rance shook her head. “No. I trust you, which is why I’m not offended that you did some mind-altering magic to keep me from making a mistake. But again, we’ve never talked about this.”
Solaris took a deep breath and spread his arms out in an open gesture. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“What will you tell me?”
“Anything I can. Just no specifics about assignments. I should have explained more before now, but we were all getting along…”
“We’re still getting along. But you can’t blame me for being curious. Before I met you, I thought the Galaxy Wizards were a myth.”
“Where should I start?”
“If you’re a wizard, why don’t you wear a cloak?” Rance swished her arms out to her side, mimicking the movement of flowing fabric behind her.
Solaris snorted. “The cloak question again? Those went out of style centuries ago. And it’s a bit hard to stay undercover when wearing one. Also, they make you trip and fall on your face, as I think I’ve mentioned.”
“Sounds like the voice of experience talking.”
“The Wizards wear them for ceremonies only.”
Rance imagined Solaris wearing a long, hooded cloak. It would make him look more imposing than he was. She wouldn’t mind seeing him in one, just once.
“They really aren’t that flattering,” he said, perhaps guessing her thoughts.
Rance smirked and changed the subject. “How about your powers? What did you do to the Streaker when we left Prometheus?”
“That was especially difficult.”
“You messed with gravity to get us away from those ships.”
Solaris looked impressed. “Excellent!”
“So you can control gravity?”
“Not exactly. I can manipulate it to some degree.”
“And how did that keep us from being blown to bits by those rebel ships?”
“I changed our pattern through space by manipulating the space-time around us.”
“You’re talking about a wormhole?” Rance was stunned. “You can create them?”
“It’s more like I can bend space. But yes, it’s something like a wormhole. And only for very short distances.”
Rance gaped at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. Of course, modern science had studied wormholes at length, and before developing hyperspace, used them to colonize new parts of the galaxy. And Solaris could create one on his own?
Solaris reached across the table and put his hand under her chin, closing her mouth. “I’ve never known you to be speechless.”
Again, his fingers felt smoother than they should have. She thought about when he’d taken her hand on Prometheus. She grabbed his hand before he could retract it, and turned it over, palm up.
It looked normal, had lines, some worn callouses. When she felt it, though, his skin was as smooth as a baby’s, with some odd wrinkles. She ran her fingers over his palm, marveling at the difference between the way it looked and the way it felt.
“Are you going to hold my hand all night, Rance, or can I have it back sometime soon?”
But Rance didn’t let go. Instead, she pointed to his palm. “Do you disguise your hands along with your face?”
“Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Why are they so smooth?” Her eyes widened. “You’re not a girl, are you?”
Solaris burst out laughing and slapped his other hand on the table. Tears of mirth sprang to his eyes. “No,” he said between chortles. “All male. You don’t want to see my real hands.”
“Why not?”
Solaris sobered a bit. “Some ugly scarring. I prefer to keep it hidden.”
“What happened?”
He seemed to debate something. Caught up in the moment, Rance realized she may have overstepped her boundaries. The question had been extremely personal. “I’m sorry, I—”
Solaris shook his head. “It’s okay. It happened a long time ago. When the Wizards found me, I had severe burns from the fire that took the lives of my family.”
“Oh.” Rance felt like a heel. She shouldn’t have asked. Realizing she was still holding his hand, she released it.
But Solaris didn’t withdraw as if he were angry. He smiled. “The scars are nothing to look at really. Except for some reason, when people see me, they feel the need to stare. Even my fellow Wizards, when we were kids. I found them looking at the scars on my face and hands without looking at me, you know? That’s why I learned to disguise myself so well. Orion taught me.”
“I’m sorry,” Rance said again.
“It’s alright. It doesn’t stop me from being the most powerful man you know.” Solaris winked.
Rance squirmed in her seat. Solaris was only two years older than she, but his life had been drastically different from hers. What he had endured, what he had accomplished. The shape of his life seemed deeper, weightier, like it took up more space in the universe than hers ever could. He had made an impact on countless lives. Could Rance say the same?
Suddenly, she felt ashamed for complaining about an arranged marriage when the man sitting across from her had lost everything, gained it, and lost it again. Compared to his trials, hers seemed insignificant. Next to him, Rance felt… inadequate.
“Does it bother you to know?” Solaris asked, watching her.
“No,” she answered truthfully. “But it bothers me that you thought it might bother me.”
“It bothered me that I thought it might bother you, which is why I hesitated to bother you about it.”
Rance shook her head in confusion. “What?”
He grinned.
She grinned back, shaking off the feeling of being on uneven ground. “Okay. Since it doesn’t bother me, how bad are the burns?”
“Right side of my face, both hands, and the right half of my chest. Something b
urning fell on me, and I tried to push it off. At least that’s what they tell me. I don’t really remember it, except in dreams.”
Solaris ran a hand through his sandy-colored hair. Rance wanted to ask him to show her his real face. But she hesitated.
He glanced at her and seemed to know what she was thinking.
“Maybe another time,” he murmured. “It’s been a long time since anyone has seen the real me.”
“But I have seen the real you, Solaris,” she said, feeling a surge of friendship for him.
He raised an eyebrow.
“You’re a genuinely good person. You're kind and honorable, and you stick by your friends. That’s all I really need to know.”
“Ah.” Solaris cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I wish you hadn’t said that. It makes me feel like an imposter.”
“What?” Rance could not imagine what caring, brave Solaris had done that would change her good opinion of him. She shook her head.
“Maybe we should leave it at that for tonight,” he said, standing.
Realizing how tired she was, Rance stood too and made for the door. Solaris followed her out of the galley. On their way out, she waved her hand at a panel near the door, and the lights turned off. Rows of green, glowing lights outlined the cargo hold and followed the stairs to the top deck. They cast a faint glow over their faces.
“You can get some sleep, Captain. I’m awake.”
Rance turned to Solaris. He was looking at her with the same warm expression he’d had earlier. She imagined how horrible it would be to hide her appearance because it made people uncomfortable. It didn’t make her pity him, but she had a newfound appreciation for his inner strength.
“Solaris.”
“Hmm?”
“Why do you get so tired after using your powers?” Rance refrained from calling it “magic” for now until he clarified that. Instead, she added it to the mental list that had grown, not shortened, since she’d walked into the galley a few minutes before.
“I’m not infallible.”
“But why?”
Solaris sighed. “Because I haven’t returned to the Temple Station. There, we recharge, so to speak. With regular visits, our powers are strengthened. It has something to do with the station itself. After being gone a while, my powers take longer to revive. I take longer to revive, especially after a particularly arduous task.”
Rance gasped. “But what will happen if you never return? Will you lose your powers completely?”
“Maybe.”
“But then you can’t…” She trailed off, not wanting to offend him about his appearance.
“I can’t change my face?” he asked, completing her question. “We’ll see.”
Solaris put his hand on the railing. The movement was subtle, but it brought him a little closer to Rance.
“Are you the first Galaxy Wizard to run away?” she asked.
“Others have left, or deserted, or turned traitor, but that was a long time ago.”
“Did they keep their powers?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you think you should find out?”
Solaris rolled his eyes. “No, Rance, it never crossed my mind. Whatever would I do without your searing intellect?”
Rance narrowed her eyes. “If you keep rolling your eyes, they’ll get stuck like that.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
She swatted his arm.
Solaris laughed. “That’s a great comeback. Did you just want an excuse to touch me?”
Rance’s face warmed. Did he really think she was flirting with him? Was she?
No. She wasn’t. She thought of Solaris like she thought of James—a brother or a friend.
As Rance turned to climb the stairs, she wondered why she was trying to convince herself. She had a firm policy against flirting with fellow crew members. After all, Solaris had said he might leave. A knot clenched in Rance’s gut. Realizing she’d never addressed that possibility, she turned back.
Solaris still stood at the bottom of the stairs.
“Solaris.”
“What now?” he asked, although there was no hint of exasperation in his voice, merely friendly banter. In the dark, she couldn’t see his face at all anymore.
“If you go back to the Galaxy Wizards, I’ll have to look for another CO.”
“Yes, you will,” he said seriously.
“Would you… would you consider staying? I’d hate to go through all that again.”
“You can’t seem to keep a CO, can you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, feeling suddenly vulnerable.
“Nothing at all,” he murmured. Then he added, “I suspect it has something to do with all the trouble you get into, but that doesn’t account for the rest of your crew. They seem content to stay.”
“And you’re not?”
“I am. For now. I haven’t decided to leave.”
“Well, if you do, let me know in time to find a replacement.”
Rance turned away and climbed the last two stairs. The suggestion that Solaris might leave hurt her heart. Replacing him wouldn’t be easy. But she didn’t want to accidentally betray her thoughts to him. After all, if he thought leaving would be best, who was she to stand in his way?
“Goodnight,” he called up to her.
“Goodnight,” she said.
Rance’s foot brushed up against something soft.
Henry.
“Hello, fluffball,” she whispered.
The furry ginger blob held out four arms to her, his blue eyes looking sleepy and happy all at the same time. Abel was supposed to keep the cappatter in a box at night, but apparently, it had learned to escape that too.
Rance smiled, remembering how the creature had reminded her of Solaris. She sighed in resignation, picked up Henry, and looked up and down the hall. After making sure no one was watching, she cuddled Henry close to her head. She hadn’t forgotten he was the reason for her broken toe, but she had an overwhelming desire to hug something.
Henry nuzzled her, wrapping two skinny arms around her face. His soft fuzzy hair smelled like warm cinnamon, and he trilled contentedly. Rance carried him to her door.
“He’s a cute little thing, isn’t he, Captain?”
Startled, Rance spun around.
James had come out of his quarters and was leaning against the doorjamb. His look, even in the green glow of the lights, was triumphant and joyful.
“Don’t you tell anybody,” Rance whispered vehemently. “Or you’ll be scrubbing the lav for the next month.”
“We have automatic cleaning systems.”
“I’ll turn them off.” Rance glared at him. But she didn’t let go of Henry. She doubted she could, anyway. He had burrowed his arms into her hair.
James held up his hands and snorted. “Wouldn’t dream of telling anyone, Captain.”
And then he smiled.
Fugitives’ Gamble
Star Streaker Book 2.5
Chapter One
Waystation 11's cafeteria was both disgusting and beautiful. Giant screens hovered above the crowd, flashing the sale of everything from exotic vegetables to the newest fashions to barely legal pets. The smell of cooking grease permeated the air and mixed with the smells of sweat and the slightly metallic tinge of filtrated air. Above the deck, a large domed observation window gave the central hub the feeling of being open to space.
The state-of-the-art space station was shaped like a flower, its arms unfurling around a centralized hub. Now that Captain Rance Cooper had seen it, she thought the structure looked more like an octopus than a flower.
Rance sat in the center of the cafeteria, craning her neck to watch the ships until she felt woozy, her grav boots propped on the chair opposite her. After more than five years of owning a space cruiser, Rance never tired of a star-filled view. For some people, space represented commerce and a fortune to be made. For others, fear of the unknown.
For Rance, space repr
esented freedom.
“Captain, your boots are crushing the chair,” Solaris said.
Rance peered over at her CO, who was carrying two trays of what looked like steaming, lumpy masses of goo. “You didn’t find my acorn pie?”
“No,” he said, nudging her boots off his chair with his knee. “They laughed at me for even asking. But you knew they would, didn’t you?”
Rance grinned. “I had no idea.”
Solaris shot her an amused look as he sat down. Today, his dark eyes and dark hair gave him a brooding quality—a far cry from the sandy colored hair and open, honest face he usually wore aboard the Star Streaker. Today, Rance envied Solaris' ability to change his look. Unable to alter her face on a whim, she wore a cap pulled down low over her eyes. Her brown hair, usually braided, hung down over her shoulders to hide her face from the security cameras.
“I wish you wouldn’t clomp around in those boots, Captain.” Solaris loved to tease Rance about her grav boots.
“I don’t clomp. Never, in my entire history of wearing grav boots, have I ever clomped, Roote,” she said, using his alias.
“Pardon me, your Ladyship. You traipse around in them magnificently.”
“Don’t call me that. That’s what people call my mother. It makes me think she’s standing behind me.”
“You know, if the station loses gravity, you’ll have more to worry about than floating along the corridors. You’re likely to have other problems.”
“Such as?” she asked, picking up her fork and poking it into the fleshy substance on her plate.
“A loss of atmosphere.”
“Maybe I’ll start walking around in my spacesuit as well.”
“In that case, I’m giving my notice.”
Rance glanced up. She knew Solaris was joking, but it wasn’t the first time he had suggested leaving the Star Streaker. The ex-Galaxy Wizard was the best CO she’d ever had. Losing him would devastate the crew.
It wouldn’t do Rance any good, either.
Sensing her unease, Solaris smiled reassuringly. Then, he dug into his food, a greasy mess of soggy greens and overcooked meat. From across the table, Rance couldn’t even decide what type of meat it was. Hers wasn’t any better. It tasted like it looked—bland, fleshy goo that made her gag as it slid down her esophagus.
