by Alex White
“How dare you speak to me like that? Mister Ferrier, we are doing this because we care about you!” Cordell’s voice started calm but rose to a thunderclap. “You will respect that!”
“You ‘care,’ huh?” Far from shrinking at the display, Alister inclined his head. “Do you care enough to let me make my case? Enough to listen, or just throw me out?”
Cordell’s eyes went wide, and he tossed his glass aside. “This isn’t a democracy, and you will address me as ‘sir.’”
“Even if you refuse to take me into hell with you? Even if you refuse to be my captain?”
Orna flexed her fingers, and Nilah took her hand to stop her from intervening.
“The hell?” Orna whispered.
“Let this play out,” said Nilah. “Please.”
“You want to do it this way, Mister Ferrier, let’s get it all out in the open,” said Cordell.
“Captain, those are private medical discussions,” said Malik, “protected under the Uniform Code of—”
The captain made his way across the bridge, coming within a stride of Alister. “No, he’s a big boy with big-boy things to say. Since we’re breaking every other ship protocol today, I’ll just go ahead and say what’s on my mind. You’re unfit for duty until you unscramble that head of yours. After what I’ve seen and heard, I know you’ll fall in battle or get someone killed, and none of us want to pay the price for your goddamned arrogance.”
“You don’t know that,” said Alister, voice measured. “You can’t know that. I’ve never failed before.”
“It only takes once.” Cordell held up a finger to count it off, then jammed it into Alister’s sternum. “One moment of inattentiveness, and you will ruin something precious forever.”
To Nilah’s surprise, Alister didn’t retaliate. “You think I don’t know that, Captain Lamarr? I’m ready to die for this mission when it’s required.”
“And it must never be ‘required’ again!” said Cordell. “I lost my best friend to your fool way of thinking. What the hell is wrong with you, kid? You sort yourself out, and we’ll talk, but until then—”
“You and Doctor Jan both know I’m not getting any better,” came the quiet reply. “That day is never coming for me.”
The look on his face broke Nilah’s heart. Alister wasn’t mad, or panicked, or defiant. He’d accepted what was happening to him and faced the captain as surely as he’d face whatever else lay in his future.
“Every day, there are more and more gaps. This is it. Whatever happens after this,” he said, “it’s my last chance to extract a toll for what he did to me.” Alister looked at Jeannie and corrected, “What he did to us. How would you feel if I told you your quest for revenge was over, Captain? I was born for this. There is nothing else in my life. Didn’t grow up. Never had friends before. I’ve never…” His right eye twitched, and he rubbed it, squinting. “I’ve never loved anyone. What if I told you that you’d never set foot on the Capricious again?”
Cordell’s anger steamed under Alister’s cool response, and Nilah was surprised to see her captain’s hands relax. He swallowed. “It would break me in half, and I’d never live again.”
“This mission… it’s all I have. You’re a whole person. Bits of my mind are falling off, and you—” Alister’s composure broke, and he gave a strained frown, as though it could hold the tears back. “And you want to take away what’s left.”
The captain’s frightful gaze faltered. “Alister…”
The other crew, now that they’d conquered their shock, were coming around. Even Orna’s grip relaxed on Nilah’s fingers—a good thing, too, since she’d started to cut off Nilah’s circulation upon seeing such a brazen display of insubordination.
Alister addressed the room. “Would any of you trust someone else to do this? Would you sit by and let the Special Branch or Compass handle it? Who am I supposed to rely upon to make sure Witts never draws another breath, huh? Would anyone on this ship be okay to leave with the job half done? A show of hands will be fine.”
The others merely stared in reply.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Alister, straightening. “Justice isn’t something you expect. It’s something you effect.” He paused to let that sink in. “And you’re a bastard if you think I’ll stay behind while you do my job, sir.”
The captain didn’t address the others in kind, or look to anyone for approval. He craned his neck as if inspecting his subordinate for flaws. When he was finally satisfied, he said, “If anyone dies because of you—”
“They won’t.”
At long last, Cordell held out a hand to Alister. “Then I believe you.”
Shaking it, he replied, “That’s all I’ve ever asked you for, sir.”
“Good. Drink your whiskey and let’s get underway.”
At the end of her shift, Nilah collapsed into her bed alongside Orna, not even caring to shower. Every muscle in her body ached after the most grueling prep of her ship career. Jack Rook’s Midnight Runner, though perfectly preserved, needed a lot of maintenance—its dummy slingers had to be swapped out for the real thing, missile pods had to be installed, the engine needed tuning, the computer security had to be retooled, and on and on. Worse still, if she wanted to hit all the required prep before they came out of the Flow, she’d have to work at least as hard for the remaining cycles.
So she laid back on her pillow, limbs heavy with bygone labors—
—and proceeded to remain wide awake with terrible thoughts. Her father’s agony wouldn’t leave her mind: his face, his screams, and Harriet’s cruelty. Witts would’ve destroyed everyone eventually, but when? Five years? Ten years? Instead of having more time to enjoy her father’s company, she’d doomed him, and now she was probably off to her own death.
Perhaps it’d been stupid to press her luck after the Harrow.
Nilah rolled onto her stomach.
Should she wake Malik for help sleeping?
Then onto her back again.
Perhaps a glass of water could help.
Then onto her side, checking the clock.
Five hours until her next shift started.
“Babe,” mumbled Orna, placing a rough, warm hand between Nilah’s shoulder blades, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
Orna’s arms slid around her, pulling her into a spooning position, pressing every centimeter of skin against her. No blanket in the galaxy could bring a comfort like that.
“I need you to tell me what’s wrong,” Orna whispered into her ear. “I’m here for you.”
A tear soaked into her pillow. “Dad won’t be at my wedding.”
“Mine, either,” said Orna, stroking Nilah’s hair, calloused fingers making a sound like wind over wheat. “But they wouldn’t want us to cry about that.”
Nilah squeezed her eyes tight, but more tears seeped through. “Is there even going to be a marriage, or are we just going to die?”
Orna shook, and at first, Nilah thought her crying contagious. Then she heard the woman’s soft laughter. “I would’ve bet against us surviving every single time, but… here we are—alive, together, unbowed.”
“When I imagined our big day,” said Nilah, “we were on Aior in the Chapel of the Fallen Rose. There were all these dignitaries and celebrities, and I—” She sniffled and swallowed. “I wanted to show you how beautiful you could be, show you how admired you were and how everyone who was anyone wanted to come see your wedding. The only person—aside from the crew—that I cared about was Dad.”
“I’m not sure that sounds like my scene.”
“No. I suppose it isn’t. Just a silly thing, is all.” She wiped her face on her pillow. “Just wanted it to be as perfect as you are.”
Orna’s laugh directly into her ear nearly deafened her. “You’re calling a scarred-up, grease-coated desert rat from a dead world ‘perfect’?”
“As perfect as they come.”
“I love you, you delusional jackass.�
�
“You too, dear.”
“Would you turn over, please?” asked Orna. “I’d like to see you.”
Nilah turned over to regard her fiancée. If it wasn’t for all of the scowling and slaying, the quartermaster would’ve had an innocent face. She tried to imagine the sort of person Orna would’ve become if she’d grown up somewhere else—a heartbreaker, for sure. Her dermaluxes turned a soft pink, glowing gently under the covers.
“You proposed to me,” said Orna, “so I’ve got a proposal for you. You want to hear it?”
Nilah nodded.
“It’s not the Chapel of Expensive Flowers or whatever, but we’re on a ship, and a ship has a captain.” Orna rubbed a stray tear from Nilah’s cheek. “And captains can marry people. It’s like, a thing.”
Her heart swelled in her chest, and Nilah stiffened. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop her voice from shaking as she said, “Yeah?”
“And,” said Orna, her smile serene, “I know it’s not a honeymoon in Silver Lagoon, but we’ve got four days and enough parts to build a pretty kickass robot together.”
Her lips ached from pressing them together so hard, but she was afraid that if she opened them, even a little bit, unstoppable weeping would come out.
“So, why don’t we wake up the captain and tell him he needs to hitch us right now?”
“Okay,” came the quivering whisper, so weak that it was nearly inaudible.
Orna squinted at her. “You sure?”
“Yes!”
They both jumped, stunned by the sudden volume in her voice.
The quartermaster released her, sitting up in bed. “Okay, then. Why don’t you go get rinsed off, and—”
“If I take one step toward the shower, I’ll be spending the next twelve hours on my makeup, and please, for the love of god, let’s just do this right now before I come to my senses and ask for a proper wedding.”
“Okay”—then a shrug—“you never did get me to wear a dress.”
They pulled on fresh clothes over their work-beaten bodies, then walked through the ship’s night cycle corridors hand in hand. During that brief sojourn, there was no war, no strife, no galaxy—only Orna.
They rang Cordell’s comm plate, and the captain answered the door in a bit of a daze—curly hair smooshed on one side and mouth dry smacking. Nilah had only ever seen him ultra-crisp or bleeding and battered, so Sleepy Cordell was another surreal sight in a surreal evening.
His half-lidded eyes weren’t quite angry as they traveled over the pair, but close. Then his gaze settled on their interlocked hands, and he smiled and said, “Oh, really?”
“Yes, sir,” said Orna.
“Yes, sir,” said Nilah.
“Ten minutes. Meet me on the bridge,” said Cordell. “Boots is on watch. Ask her to witness.”
Then he closed the door, and they made their way back down to the bridge. Stars wrapped around the ship in long streaks, their stray light wending through the jump bubble to dance upon every surface.
Boots looked up from her console when they entered, confused. “Relief isn’t for a couple of hours,” she said. Then she looked at their intertwined fingers and said, “Why are you being weird?”
“We’re conscripting you,” said Orna. “Do this for me, and you don’t owe me a replacement starfighter.”
“Do what?” asked Boots, giving them a suspicious look.
Orna smirked. “Be quiet and sit there for about fifteen minutes.”
They waited in silence until the captain arrived, tugging at the sleeves of his gold jacket, insignia shining on his right breast pocket. Boots jumped up at the sight of him. His hair, along with every stray line on his figure, has been smoothed to military perfection, and Nilah wondered if he’d polished his medals before coming down. Underneath one arm, he held a book: Arca Defense Force Military Regulations ADF204.5.3 2862 Edition.
“Oh, man, oh, man. I have always wanted to do this,” he said, eyes bright.
“Do what?” asked Boots.
“You were supposed to be quiet,” said Orna. “Now you still owe me a starfighter.”
“You can’t expect Boots to keep her trap shut,” said Cordell.
“Focus, people,” barked Nilah, then seeing Cordell’s surprise, added, “sir.”
They gathered around the captain’s station. Boots still looked confused until Cordell turned to face Nilah and Orna, flipped open his book, and scanned down the page, then said the words, “Dearly beloved…”
He was a terrible reader, voice stilted and stumbling. Boots’s eyes went wide and she gaped at the three of them. Nilah placed her hand over the regs and gently pushed them down.
“Please, sir,” she said. “You’re so good at speeches. Couldn’t you do this one from the heart?”
Cordell winked. “I was sort of hoping you’d ask… How should I start?”
“Take a minute,” she said. “Make it real.”
He nodded after staring at the ceiling a few seconds. “Miss Nilah Eladaria Brio, you arrived in a whirlwind during our leanest times. You had talent in spades, and you became the second person to wrest control of this ship from me after Miss Sokol. I watched in awe as you rose to every challenge, overcame every obstacle, and saved the lives of two members of my crew without hesitation. You’ve shown the sort of valor that can never be taught, and every single day of your presence on board has been a gift. I’m so pleased that you found love here, and it has been a joy to watch it bloom.”
He turned to face Orna, taking her in with a happy sigh. “You were such a scrappy little kid when we picked you up, and I can’t believe the woman you’ve become. Over our journeys, we butted heads so many times, and somehow, you always got your way. Armin and I… survived your teenage years to watch you grow into this force of nature, tearing through the universe to right wrongs. You’re a fighter and a survivor, and I’m proud to call you my friend.”
He embraced her, and Nilah could just make out his whisper. “You’re a daughter to me. I’m so sorry that Armin isn’t here to see this.”
When they parted, both their eyes had reddened.
He took a deep breath and straightened. “Would you like to say your own vows?”
They nodded.
“And who’s going first?”
Orna shook her head. “I know better than to try and take first from Nilah.”
Heart thumping, Nilah searched for the words that would properly capture her love, and realized there were none—there could only be promises.
“Orna,” she began, “I—damn it…”
She closed her eyes and steadied herself. When she opened them, she found the quartermaster staring back at her, patient and kind.
“I never want to be away from you. If we’re going to grow old on the banks of some beautiful lake, I want to be there. If… if we’re going to meet our end on a strange planet, surrounded by evil, I want to be there. I want to hold you for every second that I can, because I never tire of your face, your touch, your kiss. How did… in our huge galaxy… in our long eons as a species…”
Her voice broke. Orna gave her hands a hard squeeze.
“How did I have the incredible fortune to inhabit the same time as you?”
The quartermaster laughed, a wet, awkward sob as her face flushed, bringing forth the constellation of white scars across her skin.
“How the hell am I supposed to follow that?”
Nilah’s lips quivered as she reached up and pulled Orna’s face close to hers. “You could kiss me and say you’ll be my wife.”
Then the quartermaster etched two words across Nilah’s heart:
“I will.”
Cordell nodded. “Then with the power vested in me by the Galactic Alliance Treaty Organization…”
But all of his fancy words disappeared beneath the blazing heat of Orna’s lips.
Chapter Twenty
Hardpoint
Boots had been watching Cordell pace his quarters for the past ten minutes.
The captain shook his head. “Is this a bad plan?”
“You ask that every time, sir,” said Boots.
He grimaced. “Yeah, well this one is like Laconte and the Masquerade had a baby, so you’ll have to excuse my trepidation. It’s based on, like, four big assumptions, and you know what they say about assumptions.”
Boots glanced over at Malik, feeling certain neither one of them had ever seen him quite so nervous. Maybe marrying someone on his boat had softened him up too much.
“It’s time, sir,” said Malik. “Call it in.”
Cordell stopped dead and regarded the first mate, who’d just given him an order, with intense eyes. Instead of a reprimand, the statement steeled him, and he waved up the console, connected to the Compass Link Tool, and typed in his credentials.
Special Agent Cedric Weathers appeared, face haggard, before them. Boots was stunned; he looked so much better with a beard that she’d almost forgotten what an insufferable bureaucrat he could be.
“Captain Lamarr. You’re breaking comm silence after I told you not to.”
“Hey, Cedric!” Boots said, leaning into frame long enough to annoy the poor guy.
“It’s important, Agent Weathers,” said Cordell. “How’s the slinger wound?”
“I’m healing and very alive,” he replied. “Not in any official capacity, I might add. My whole team is dead. At least, the decent human beings are.”
“Sorry to hear that. I’m going to need you to go back on the grid,” said Cordell, and Cedric gave him a turtle frown. “Surely the office would be interested in talking to you.”
“Captain, maybe you didn’t catch the part where I’m missing, presumed dead, and the only people who still know me would shoot me on sight.”
“Oh, I heard you, but that doesn’t matter,” said Cordell, and Cedric’s frown became a scowl. “I wouldn’t bother calling if I didn’t have intel. We’re heading for Origin, with a strong lead on how to take out Henrick Witts. We arrive in one day. Your fastest ships should be able to catch up if they push it.”
Cedric paused for a moment, then laughed. “I think today, I may have heard everything—”
