Until today, when time had frozen and he realized the love of his life was about to die.
Grabbing his portable work light, Derick moved it closer, so he could give Mack Daddy one last look over. Was it really love? He'd liked females that were in his command before. Denise Dawson had been a pretty, chatty blonde. She'd been in his unit before the Exodus. Chante Riggins had been another one. She'd been all dark skin and exotic. Neither of them had inspired the gut wrench of today.
In the last several months, he'd seen Ren suffer with the rest of them. Face down angry and frustrated civilians, injured in a brawl during the very first food distribution. She'd been covered in blood then, a lot of it her own because that whole thing had gone tits up in two minutes flat.
Never once before, not with Denise, not with Chante, had he felt like saying fuck all to the line of command that kept him from chasing after a woman. Not until today. Not until Ren. Not until he'd found himself carrying her bloodied body in his arms, whispering promises to her he never said to anyone and praying to a God he'd long ago forsaken.
Carefully, he snapped the laser scope back into place and smoothed a hand down the barrel. A voice carried out of the medical bay, making Derick look up. Mayday had taken her kit into the small room, grumbling about not wanting to listen to forty some odd people snoring. Derick suspected it was, so she could be close to her friend and now patient.
Next, he clipped the strap back on the gun, giving each end a yank to test it. The webbing was still damp from where he washed it, but it would dry soon enough. Getting to his feet, Derick clicked off the work lamp and headed for the medical bay door.
Hesitating outside, Derick debated interrupting. The two women were thick as thieves and Mayday sounded like she needed a friend right now. Ren's rifle wasn't as important as the ear Mayday might need.
“'Ello, Gunnee.”
Nearly jumping out of his skin, Derick reigned in the urge to murder the Frenchman for scaring the crap out of him.
“What?” he growled, realizing at that moment it might seem like he was lurking outside the medical bay, listening in. Which he wasn't. Jesus, he felt like he'd been caught spying on Chris.
“Luke said he needs to see you outside,” French replied, oblivious to his near brush with death. He shrugged. “I do not know what for, just that he is with that petite squint.”
Luke. How his brother managed to have such fucking timing, he didn't know. “All right. I'll be there shortly. Thanks,” he said through clenched teeth and sent the Shark on his way.
“Gunny?”
Turning, Derick found Maya looking up at him. “Sanjay,” he nodded, glancing past her to where Ren was sitting up on the medical bed. “I uh… uh…just brought Ren's rifle back,” he said, pulling his gaze from the redhead to his medic.
Maya raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Well,” she nodded and moved out of his way. “Come in. I'll leave you two…”
“You don't…”
“I have to check my other patients before I turn in,” Maya explained, glancing back at Ren and giving her a slight smile. While Maya wasn't up to her old self, she couldn't help but be amused at the normally self-assured Gunny acting like a nervous school boy.
Before Derick could say anything else, Maya slipped past him and left him standing in the door. Right. Clearing his throat, he nodded at Ren, glad to see her awake.
“Hey, I brought you Mack, squeaky clean.” He stepped forward to lay it on the bunk beside her leg. It wasn't flowers, but it might as well have been. They were Sharks after all.
Ren broke into a bright smile, eyes dancing in amusement and pleasure as she took the weapon, her fingers moving across the oiled surface as if she were inspecting something living for any signs of wear.
“Thank you, De…” Ren snapped her mouth shut, her eyes meeting his. Just like back in the tent, something connected them, something more than friendship. But they weren't alone, not really. She cleared her throat, going back to their standard operating procedure. “You going soft on me?”
Snark was good. Snark would keep her from wanting to call him Derick like she had when he'd swept her off her feet, literally.
Derick looked down, smirk tugging hard at the corner of his mouth. He worked his teeth over his lip, needing everything he had not to respond to her unintended innuendo. After a moment, Derick cleared his throat and indicated Maya's kit sitting on the small counter. “She going to be okay?” he asked quietly.
“I think so,” Ren nodded sombrely. “They didn't know each other all that long, but after all we've been through he was someone to lean on, you know? I know she said it was a casual thing, but I think it might have been a little more.”
“I wouldn't be surprised. Tom… the Major said she's pretty stiff-lipped about stuff like that.” Which was at odds with the whole brash, loud personality, but Maya had her reasons. Tom had mentioned her parents but, considering how tight she and Ren were, Derick guessed the redhead might already know.
“GUNNY!! You coming or not?”
Luke's bellow made Derick jump and a twitch appeared in his jaw. “I am going to kill him,” he told Ren and pointed at her. “Get some rest, you hear me?”
“Will do,” she answered with a smile and then added, almost slyly. “Derick.”
He didn't answer but when he left the medical bay, Derick was smiling and had decided NOT to kill his brother.
* * *
Since sleeping outside was out of the question, Jules chose to set up in the cockpit. Viewing the new world through safety glass was still better than the steel grey bulkheads on the Rutherford or the ones in the belly of the Firefly. Then there was the secret she was selfishly keeping to herself.
When the designers built these ships, someone had posited the idea that the pilot might need to sleep on board. Since there were no bunks, save for the Med Station, why not put in pilot seats that folded back into a more-comfortable-than-the-steel-deck reclining chair.
She couldn't remember who, but Jules was ready to put the ingenious forward thinker in her will. With the seat tilted back slightly so she could better see the night sky, Jules sipped at her water bottle. Chuck should be here. Chuck and Stefan both, she thought. Chuck would no doubt be snoring already while Stefan would be going on about all the plant varieties.
They wouldn't have paid any attention to the thousands and thousands of stars dotting the inky velvet night sky. Jules smiled to herself as she leaned back. She missed them and hoped Stefan was doing alright on the Olympia. She would check in once she got back on the Ruthie. Being Captain did have its perks.
A shooting star jetted across the sky and Jules closed her eyes, making a silent wish.
“You look comfortable,” Tom stepped into the cockpit, carrying a rolled up sleeping bag with him. “Do you mind if I set up here. I promise, I don't snore and will keep my hands to myself. Me sharing billets with the squad is just going to make it awkward.”
Tom thought for them it would be like having to share a room with your Nan but didn't need to put that picture in anyone's head.
Chuckling, Jules eyed him upside down before she sat up and indicated the other seat. “Be my guest. There's a button under the arm rest. I imagine having the Gunny in there will be terrifying enough.” Running a hand over her hair, she pulled out the elastic band holding her ponytail back and combed everything back into a sloppy bun. “Did you see the sky?” she said, nodding towards the window.
Tom shifted his eyes to the glass and took in the sight of the glittering canvas beyond. It really was a spectacular view. “Now that's something to fall asleep too.”
He didn't just mean the sky.
“You got that right,” Jules replied, oblivious to any double meaning as she glanced at him, smiling. “No light pollution, no smog or haze.” She went quiet and let out a sigh. “I don't want to screw this world up, you know?”
“I know what you mean,” he said setting up the bedroll on the chair, “it's like we have a chance to set thing
s up right. Not ten thousand years too late before we worked out the damage we were doing.”
“Exactly.” Settling her seat back again, Jules glanced at him. “So, what do you do when you're not saving the world from carnivorous plants or gigantic twigas,” she asked, using Shiny's word for the massive beasts. There was obviously so much more to the man than he let on and whatever this thing was between them, she wanted to explore it once everything was safe.
Tom eased back into the chair and tossed her a beat-up copy of A Town like Alice by Neville Shute. The book was older than he was, the pages yellow and furled with creases in what was once a glossy cover.
“I read and try and get my hands on paper books like that one, aside from the drinking and picking up birds in bars, of course.” He winked.
“Of course,” Jules replied dryly, turning the book over so she could read the cover. She recognized the author from her high school days. “So, does everyone die in this one like they did in On the Beach?” Handing the book back, she sat up again and snagged her water bottle.
“Well it's about World War II and this bird who was a POW. The Nips were making civilian women on the other side do these death marches, but she meets an Aussie bloke and it works out all right.” He resisted the urge to use the word romance because Derick had looked at him like he was reading Barbara Cartland.
“Hmm.” Was 'it works out all right' Shark code for steamy romance? Jules gave Tom a look. Huh. Who knew? “I can't remember the last time I read an actual book,” she continued, rolling over to face him and propping herself up on an arm. “What else?”
“What else?” He turned his head and cocked a brow at her. “Used to watch Rugby League matches, played the occasional bit of soccer but that's about it really. I'm not that complicated.”
“And Godzilla movies. Can't forget the big guy.” Her smile faded, and she inhaled deeply and let it out. “I'm sorry about your Sharks.”
“It's the life,” his expression sobered. “Ground pounders are always bullet catchers. I wasn't in charge of Macon or Edwards long enough to really know them. I hate that I didn't. Always swore when I got these officer's bars that was the one thing I would never do. I started out as a non-com and I hated officers that couldn't see the faces behind the uniforms. I should have done better by them.”
“I forget you guys are just as cobbled together as the rest of the fleet.” Jules squeezed his shoulder, the rock-solid muscle beneath his sleeve twitching minutely under her touch. “I don't know what you could have done better, Tom. Like you told me, you couldn't have known,” she said quietly.
He caught her hand on his shoulder and held it in place, staring at those soft brown eyes.
“Thanks luv, I appreciate you saying it. You know,” he added making no move to remove his hand, “considering you got thrown in the deep end, you've done a bloody great job as Captain. Holding the Ruthie together after the shit we went through leaving Sol, no one could have done better.”
Jules felt her cheeks flare into a blush. She smiled slightly and nodded, not realizing just how much she'd needed to hear that. “I made a lot of decisions that I didn't want to make,” she said quietly, turning her hand close around his.
“You were tops, luv, you were tops,” he cracked a small smile, “and I'm not saying that because I think you have the prettiest smile I've ever seen. It's like a bullet to the brain, you know.”
Her cheeks felt even hotter and Jules shook her head. “You're making me blush, you know.” She was sure he did. Hell, the Sharks in the back could probably feel the heat. “Ruins my bad-ass Captain image.”
“I won't tell anyone,” he quipped and leaned across the space between their seats.
Since he'd met her this thing between them had been growing exponentially. Before either of them noticed, they were hip deep in it before they realised it had them. Brushing his lips against her, his kiss wasn't rough and demanding like it was when he was partaking in the attentions of God only knew how many women in the past. It was as intimate as it was chaste. Everything about her was soft and luxuriant. Everything in him screamed she was too good for the likes of him.
When he pulled back, he waited with breath held tight in his chest, uncertain of what she would say.
Jules said nothing at first, how could she? When he started to pull away, she grabbed his shirt front to keep him from going too far.
“You should do that again,” she said finally, licking her lips before she returned the kiss. Just as soft, just as sweet, because right now, this thing couldn't go any further.
“Now that I know you're not going to smack me, yeah.” He smiled and leaned forward to do just that. Once again, it was an intimate, tender thing without demand. They stayed locked for a good minute, exploring and tasting, trying to savour this tiny moment in the eye of the storm.
It was Tom who pulled back first. He could still taste her on his lips and the scent of her was dizzying. There was much to say, and he was not a man who could express feelings easily, but this was not a woman with whom you could trifle with. Years of watching his father's brutality on his mother told him what kind of man he wanted to be if he ever found someone who meant something to him.
“I'm a mess, you know. An absolute pain in the arse. If you tell me to piss off, I'll understand but I want you to know, I think you're a ripper.”
Settling back into the chair, Jules shrugged, lips still tingling from what they shared. “I think we're all some level of mess after everything that's happened.” She patted his hand. “I'm not afraid.”
Tom raised her hand to his lips and planted a small kiss on the back of one smooth knuckle. “You're braver than me, because I'm bloody terrified.”
She let the back of a finger brush along his stubble and grinned. “Big, bad Shark.”
“At least I'm housebroken,” he winked at her as he faced front again, soaking up the stars as if they were looking back with interest.
He was more than that, Jules decided, but turned to face the window as well. She kind of liked Major Charming over Prince Charming anyway.
XVI
Deployment
Darkness still covered the camp like a shroud when reveille came for the Sharks the next morning. The nights were longer on Gaia, Tom realised, but it didn't matter. No rescue ship answered their call during the night, confirming his suspicions their signal was too weak to penetrate Gaia's heavily charged atmosphere. In the end, it didn't matter. Within a few hours past dawn, they would be overdue. The Olympia would send another ship to investigate and their first mission to Gaia would be over.
In the meantime, the city awaited, and they had a job to do.
“How's it going?” Tom asked by way of greeting as he and Derick approached the spot Luke and Shiny had chosen to set up the Mercator UAV. The unmanned aircraft would provide a bird's eye view of the ancient city as well as a glimpse of its interior. Tom wasn't sending anyone into the place until they had a little more information. While Sharks were trained to deal with almost anything, Tom saw no reason to be reckless when a little recon could yield a wealth of information.
“Almost ready.” Shiny glanced up at the men from where she was squatting beside the drone. Hexagonal in shape, the UAV had four mini-turbines capable of keeping it aloft in anything short of a hurricane. In the centre, held in place by six support struts, was the orb-like sensor containing its scanner and communications relay, surrounded by a tough titanium casing. “We're lucky, the crash didn't do any damage to it or the guidance hub, just dented the case.”
A few feet away from her and the drone, Luke stood in front of a small fold up table with a large, dark case perched on top. The open case revealed the drone's portable receiver and guidance system attached to a screen and the keyboard he was hunched over.
“Hey Bigfoot, hey Tom,” Luke greeted, not looking up from the screen, brows furrowed with concentration as he synched the hub with Shiny's adjustments to the drone.
Raising an eyebrow, Derick nodded to h
is brother and Shiny and glanced toward the high city walls. The sun was rising behind the city, covering the encampment and the surrounding landscape in heavy, aged shadows. For the first time, in a long time, Derick felt the itch to record the moment, to try and capture the silent beauty. To study how the light awakened each room and how it glinted gold off certain red curls. Clearing his throat, Derick reminded himself that being hip deep in serious shit meant no skylarking.
“How much longer?” he asked, deciding that irritating Luke would keep his head in the game.
Bristling like a cat petted all wrong, Luke didn't stop typing. “Cut that out; this isn't like when you had to wait for me outside the bathroom at camp. I'll finish when I'm done.”
“Ewww…” Shiny made a face at them both.
A Shark that went eww… Tom held back whatever comment that wanted to come. “But you're almost done, right?”
Luke didn't dignify the question with an answer.
“All right, Rickman,” Shiny dusted off her hands and rose to her feet. “You're good to go, yeah?”
“Great,” Luke flashed her a grin. Cute, he thought, baser instincts never too far away from his thoughts. “Let's make this bird fly.”
Derick's glance cut to Shiny and back to his brother. He knew that grin and narrowed his eyes at Luke. N-O. NO.
Luke mouthed an innocent 'what?' and went back to work, tapping at the smooth keyboard and prompting the small turbines to begin their soundless whirring. As the four propellers disappeared into a circular blur of motion, the UAV lifted off the ground, rising steadily over their heads until only the glowing green light from its LEDs could be seen.
“How's it looking?” Shiny asked, wiping her hands on a rag as she stood beside Luke to watch the screen. She was happy for Luke's help, knowing full well the UAV could have been damaged beyond what her kit and expertise could fix.
Luke winked at her, incapable of not flirting with any unattached female in his proximity. Plus, it kept his mind off Olivia's death. “Signal's clean on all frequencies. I had to program some additional filters to compensate for the ionisation in the atmosphere, but we're getting telemetry. Right now, it's of Tom's bald head, but it works.”
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