by Wayne Basta
After the Battle of Perth, Zeric had thought that he and Lei-mey had come to an understanding of each other. After all, he had saved her life on several occasions that day. But their few encounters since had featured nothing but a cold shoulder from her.
“How did you get through the blockade?” Zeric asked, hoping for some good news.
“Through the heroic efforts of Major Ocaitchi and crew of Cutty Sark,” Lei-mey answered. “Unfortunately, as I understand it, it was not an action that should be repeated often.”
“Atmospheric jump,” Saracasi added.
Shivering at that, Zeric said, “What could be so important that you would risk that to get here?”
“We came to find you,” Lei-mey answered. “And to bring you back to take command of the army.”
With a confused look on his face, Zeric raised an eyebrow at Lei-mey. “That’s what I’m doing here.”
“No, cut off as you are here, you’re unable to perform the functions of your new position effectively,” Lei-mey explained. “While I wish to see the operation here on Sulas succeed, your skills will be better used overseeing the rest of the sector.”
“We need you, Zeric,” Saracasi added. “We have no leader, and the Alliance is quickly reasserting control across the sector. They’ve already sent forces to Enro, Dantyne, and Mirthod. That only leaves Kol and Cardine relatively free, and Cardine is still fighting a ground war with the forces already there. I have plans for ways the navy can help, but I don’t have the authority to command any more ships. But you do.”
For Zeric, getting off Sulas had a lot of appeal, though the thought embarrassed even him. It would be tantamount to running away. While he had no hang-ups about making a strategic retreat when necessary, running away was different. “Well, I’m a general, aren’t I?” Zeric mumbled. “I can promote people on the battlefield. So, Saracasi, you’re an admiral or something.”
Lei-mey shook her head. “We established the Union military based on the Alliance uniform code. You only have the authority to promote Major Ocaitchi to commander and give her the temporary rank of commodore. Only Congress can promote anyone to a permanent flag rank.”
“Fine, then I do that. Congratulations, Commander/Commodore,” Zeric grumbled. “You’re now in command of all naval forces. And marine and army, too. Now you don’t need me.”
Saracasi smiled and gave an odd look to Lei-mey. Surprisingly, she didn’t object to the promotion. Last time he had seen her, Saracasi had shown no interest in fighting, obsessed as she was with fixing ships. In truth, he wasn’t sure she could do the job he had just thrown at her. But every other time he had tried to get someone to accept a leadership position in place of him, they had said no.
“That only achieves one of my goals in coming here,” Lei-mey said, and then her speech became passionate. “But we still need you. Commodore Ocaitchi will do well with her plans for counter-attacks against the Alliance, but we still need an overall commander. A leader the people respect. Someone to rally the morale of the troops.
“Congress could appoint a new commander, but they would be an unknown. The battle during the invasion of Sulas cost us two well-known and respected leaders. You’re the only one left. You need to be seen by the population so they know the fighting is not over and that we can still win.”
This was not the first time Lei-mey had tried to use him as a symbol. The last time, before the war had even begun, he had run away as fast as possible. He had never wanted to be a symbol and hadn’t wanted to become involved in her rebellion against the Alliance. But now he was already hip deep in the rebellion.
Would it really be that bad? he wondered. Not having to live in the damp basement of a sports arena, constantly fearing the Alliance could show up at any moment, sending people off to fight and die but not being able to go himself? He wouldn’t have to see their faces as they left, eager for the fight, and then not see their faces when they failed to return.
After a moment of consideration, Zeric shook his head. “No, my place is here.”
Lei-mey clicked her mandibles in a sign of frustration. “I had hoped I wouldn’t have to resort to this.” She removed a datapad from her pocket and brought a picture up on the screen. When she handed it to Zeric, he saw the image of a Terran baby. He looked at it a second and then shrugged his shoulders, confused.
“This is your daughter,” Lei-mey said.
“Yeah, so I apparently have a daughter,” Zeric said as he strode into Gu’od’s quarters.
Kneeling on the floor in the middle of a meditation ritual, Gu’od remained still. The only indication that he had heard Zeric came in the form of a slight twitch of his antennae.
Taking that as a sign to continue, Zeric told the rest of the story, pacing in a circle around Gu’od. “Apparently, Ceta got pregnant from our little fling after we rescued you from Olan. You remember her, right? Beautiful girl. Lei-mey’s adopted sister. Helped us bust you guys out,” Zeric rambled. “Well, now she’s on Irod. Lei-mey wants me to go back there to be her puppet commander of the Union army and a father.
“Oh, yeah, Casi and Sienn’lyn are here. They brought Lei-mey down here through the blockade. Something I don’t think I can ever forgive them for.”
Zeric continued to pace in silence for a moment before Gu’od said, “Did they mention Gamaly?”
“Right . . . sorry, I, uh, forgot to ask,” Zeric said, feeling ashamed for not thinking of his friend.
Standing up from the floor in a fluid motion, Gu’od locked a stare onto Zeric which made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t a new feeling, but it made him very glad Gamaly wasn’t here.
“You didn’t think to take precautions?” Gu’od asked.
“I didn’t exactly have access to a pharmacy,” Zeric grumbled. “I figured she was on birth control.”
“Was she?”
“I guess not.”
Silence returned while Zeric fumed. He hadn’t been on Irod much, but he had been there before the invasion on Sulas. He had also seen Lei-mey on a few occasions. Yet no one had bothered to tell him he had a kid. Granted, he hadn’t even tried to look Ceta up while he’d been on Irod, and, in fact, he hadn’t known she was still there until now.
As if mirroring his thoughts, Gu’od asked, “Why is she telling you this now?”
“Lei-mey wants me to leave Sulas with her and return to Irod. She says it’s so I can do my job as the Union military commander, which I can’t do while I’m cut off down here. She’s right about that, but I think it’s just so she can use me as a symbol and her puppet commander,” Zeric speculated.
“You don’t think she’s actually concerned for her sister and niece?” Gu’od asked.
“I’m sure she is, but that has nothing to do with it. If she thought I should be involved with the baby at all, she would have told me months ago. Hell, it’s been a year and a half, almost, since I last saw Ceta,” Zeric said. “No, she’s doing this to manipulate me.”
“Perhaps you should let her,” Gu’od said, bringing Zeric up short. “You’ve complained that you’re useless here. Ymp won’t let you go on any raids, and Minister Kantor and Jairyd have effectively taken over. Maybe it’s time to go where you can do more good. For your family and for the war.”
The words sank in. “His family.” The closest thing to a family he had had in recent years had been Gu’od and Gamaly. He had never had a close relationship with his parents or siblings and hadn’t even spoken to them since he was discharged from the Alliance marines.
But now he had a daughter—his own flesh and blood. Did he have a responsibility to her? To Ceta? He had always liked Ceta but knew he’d never loved her. She hadn’t told him about the girl, so would she even want him around? Should that matter?
He also had a responsibility to the troops under his command. Would going to Irod be abandoning them, or would it be doing his duty by taking command? He didn’t like Lei-mey using him, but if raising morale and recruiting more troops helped them win the war, wou
ldn’t that be the best thing?
All of these questions raced through his head. He hated moral conundrums, which was why he preferred a straight-up fight. If someone was trying to kill you, there was no moral question—you just had to try to kill them right back. Responsibility could be a real bitch.
“What do you think I should do?” Zeric finally asked, his tone pathetic and pleading.
“It’s my intention to use this opportunity to return to Kol to be with Gamaly and our child. My duty is clear. I suggest you do the same. I know I would feel better knowing you were out of harm’s way,” Gu’od said.
Reluctantly, Zeric nodded. Gu’od was the next best thing he had to a conscience. Yet deciding to leave didn’t fill him with relief.
Chapter Seven
The journey from Sulas to Irod was not a long one by galactic travel standards, but it still left Zeric with very little to do for several days. When they arrived, he had had plenty of time to drive himself crazy with all the possibilities of how this coming meeting would play out.
For once, Lei-mey cooperated when he asked for Ceta’s address, simply telling him where to find her instead of making it a complicated negotiation. Of course, she had been the one to travel all the way to Sulas specifically to bring him back here, but he still wouldn’t have put it past her to hold out on him just to be annoying.
The home Ceta lived in was a small, prefabricated structure, like most of the buildings in Lost Hope. Ever since Zeric had delivered the prison refugees here, the small town had seen a population explosion. First the refugees who didn’t want to return home had settled here, then the military trainees had arrived, followed by support people, families, and other refugees.
If Irod’s location hadn’t been kept secret, being divulged only to trusted ship captains, Zeric felt sure the small, dark moon would have been overrun with refugees fleeing the fighting on the other worlds. Granted, even though it was technically a moon, Irod was not much smaller than most habitable planets, so there was a lot of untapped terrain for settlements. As it was, the population explosion was contained to Lost Hope.
Zeric paced outside the small home for several minutes. For some reason, he never felt courageous unless someone was shooting at him. He only had to face a woman he’d slept with and the baby they’d made—something people had been doing since the beginning of time. But, at the moment, he would rather have stormed an Alliance base.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped up to the door and knocked. When the door didn’t immediately swing open, he started to turn away, deciding that Ceta must not be home. But before he could completely back away from the door, it opened.
Standing there, looking far less lovely than the last time he had seen her, was Ceta Darshawn. The former stripper had her hair in disarray and wore some of the least attractive, rumpled, old clothes possible. Supported in her left arm, resting against her hip, was a small baby girl.
The baby had small wisps of blond hair, like her mother. She was happily chewing on her fingers and staring curiously at Zeric. Her cheeks were chubby, and a stream of drool ran down her hand and chin.
Despite what he’d heard some new fathers say, Zeric didn’t feel an immediate sense of love at the sight of his daughter. To be sure, she was pretty cute, even with the drool. But he felt no more connection to her than any other baby he’d ever seen.
For her part, Ceta stared at him, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. She didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at him for a moment.
Feeling uncomfortable, Zeric tried a smile but felt it came off rather weak. “Um, hi,” he finally said.
“What are you doing here?” Ceta asked in reply.
“Your sister told me about the baby.”
“Damn her,” Ceta growled. “I didn’t want you find out.”
Zeric blinked in surprise. “Wait, what? She came to Sulas to tell me and bring me back here. I assumed you asked her to.”
“No, I didn’t want you to know until after the war,” Ceta replied.
“Why not?”
A neighbor opened her front door a crack to peer at the pair of them as their voices began to rise. Grabbing Zeric’s arm, Ceta dragged him inside the house and closed the door. The main room was a mess of burp clothes, toys, and other things. Most of the walking space was consumed by a couch, a baby swing and a playmat covered in toys.
Ceta set the baby down on the mat, and the baby immediately grabbed one of the toys to replace her fingers in her mouth. Turning back toward Zeric, Ceta glared at him with her hands on her hips. “You have enough distractions on your plate with this war. You don’t need a baby added to the mix,” she declared. “Besides, I’m quite capable of taking care of her on my own.”
“I never doubted that,” Zeric said quickly. He did have his doubts about how good of a mother Ceta would make, but those were far fewer than his doubts about how good of a father he would make. Changing the subject, he asked, “What’s her name?”
“Ciara.”
“Ciara,” Zeric repeated. “Pretty.” He stared down at the little girl, unsure what else to do. She continued to randomly grab toys and stuff them in her mouth before dropping them. Then she picked up two toys and banged them together.
“Oh, I got something for her,” Zeric said, remembering. He pulled a small rattle out of his pocket, and when Ceta nodded, he bent down and held it out to Ciara. She immediately grabbed it. After the obligatory taste test, she started shaking it around, amused by the sound.
“So, what now?” Zeric asked. “I know you didn’t want to tell me, but that’s kind of behind us now.”
“Well, that depends on you,” Ceta replied. “I knew what I was doing when I slept with you. I may have been consumed by excitement after the rescue, but I did do it. Aside from some financial support, I won’t expect anything from you.”
“Financial support?” Zeric blurted.
“As the head of the military, I’m sure you can afford to send some money to support your daughter. My body isn’t exactly in the best shape to return to my old career,” Ceta said. “But if you don’t want to be involved beyond that, I completely understand.”
“I thought you didn’t even want to tell me, and now you’re asking for money?” Zeric said, annoyed.
“Forget about the money for now,” Ceta said with a sigh. “Winning this war is far more important. I can get by. The people here have been more than generous. Before Ciara was born, I found some work helping out on the farms, and I’ve got financial support from the city government until she’s a year old. We’re doing fine.”
Zeric’s head started spinning. At first, he had been confident that Lei-mey was manipulating him, then he had started to think Ceta might actually need help. Then she claimed to be doing fine but then started asking for money. Now she claimed to be fine again. He had no idea what was going on, what was expected of him, or who was trying to manipulate him into doing what.
“I just don’t know what to do.” Zeric slouched down to the floor, feeling defeated. He looked again at the baby, and something about the sight of her made him suddenly start confessing, “I never wanted a kid, but I also never wanted to be a deadbeat dad. I want to do the right thing for you, for Ciara, and for the Union. But all I can think about is just running away.”
Squatting down beside him, Ceta put her hand on his cheek, a slight frown of sympathy on her face. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. We’re fine, really. Knowing my sister, she told you because it serves her interests. While that may seem cruel, her intentions are always for the best of others. First Sulas, and now the Union. So if bringing you here helps in some way, then I’m glad you’re here.”
Ceta sat down completely and then picked up Ciara. She held the baby out to Zeric. For a moment, he stared at the child, unsure what to do. He took her hesitantly and then held her up to get a good look. She laughed and smiled at him.
Maybe this won’t be so bad, he thought, unable to hold back a smile in return.
<
br /> When the shuttle door slid open, revealing the hangar deck of Defiant Glory, Saracasi found Jerik and Fracsid waiting for her. The two men looked relieved to see her, which she couldn’t blame them for. When she had left for Sulas, she had half expected not to be coming back.
As she started down the ramp, Jerik straightened into a stance of attention and then shouted, “Commander Defiant Glory, arriving.”
He immediately snapped a salute. An uneasy and uneven wave washed over the crewmembers who were working on the hangar deck. Some snapped to attention and saluted, and some just straightened up slightly, while others just looked confused. Standing beside Jerik, Fracsid looked caught off guard but tried to emulate Jerik’s stance.
Maarkean hadn’t instructed the officers on proper military etiquette. Davidus, however, had made a point of training them on these kinds of formal ceremonies and procedures whenever he could. During his time in command of Defiant Glory, he had drilled certain protocols into the crew.
Saracasi wasn’t sure how she felt about the uneven response from the crew. On one hand, she didn’t much care for the pomp and circumstance most militaries had. Considering the situation the Union military found itself in, focusing on military ceremony felt like an unnecessary waste of time and resources. However, she also understood the importance of tradition and ceremony to build a sense of esprit de corp, which was especially important for the Union. A little ceremony could be what made the difference between them being a legitimate military and a band of rebels.
Deciding to play along, if for no other reason than to not insult Jerik and Fracsid, once she reached the end of the ramp, she returned the salute. “Permission to come aboard.”
An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment as she waited for Fracsid’s reply. It took a nudge from Jerik to remind him that, as the senior officer left in command, it was him Saracasi was addressing.
“Of course,” Fracsid said, fumbling. “Permission granted, Major Ocaitchi . . . Captain Ocaitchi . . .”
