by Cheree Alsop
The details were fuzzy in Liora’s mind. She looked up at Devren. “What happened on Ralian?”
Devren studied the floor. His brow was furrowed as if the memories he saw weren’t pleasant. “After Tariq sacrificed himself to break the orbs, the Nameless Ones were pulled into the energy tornado or whatever it was. They fought to get free, but they couldn’t. I thought Tariq would be gone, sucked in just like the Nameless Ones had been.”
He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “But his body was still there. I unlocked your cuffs.” He swallowed and looked at her. “I’m sorry about that, Liora. Tariq had told me before that if there was a chance your life would be in danger, he was going to stop you. He made me promise that I would help him.” His voice was quieter when he concluded, “He said losing you would kill him.”
Liora touched the bandages at her wrist where the handcuff had cut into her skin. “I understand,” she said. “You were being a good friend.”
“I couldn’t bear to lose you any more than Tariq,” Devren replied.
When Liora met his gaze, Devren’s dark eyes held emotions she wasn’t prepared to face. There was love there. It was different than the intensity of Tariq’s, but it was unmistakable.
“Devren,” Liora began.
He shook his head and forced a smile. “I’m just glad you’re alright. Now if only we can get Tariq to wake up.” He turned his attention to his friend. “I reached him right after you did. He wasn’t breathing. You wouldn’t let him go….” His voice choked off. When he continued, his words were tight. “There was blood everywhere and his heart wasn’t beating. I thought he was dead.” He paused, then said, “But you wouldn’t let him go. You fought us off, and then you did something. I felt it. Something pushed us back like the energy from the orbs, and then you were unconscious and Tariq started breathing again.”
He paced to the other end of the room as though he needed to clear his head. When he returned, he gave a little smile. “We transferred both of you here to the Kratos when we returned to Corian because I felt you would be more comfortable in a medical bay you’d recognize. Tariq always loved it here.”
Liora set a hand gently on the bandages on Tariq’s chest. His wounds had been cleaned and stitched. She knew he wasn’t the type to take it easy for his injuries to heal. She told herself that sleep would be the best thing for him. She could only hope that he would eventually wake up.
The sorrow on Devren’s face ate at her. She searched for something to say.
“I hear Tariq wasn’t too happy when your father promoted him to Chief Medical Officer.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Devren’s lips. “No, he wasn’t. In fact, he was so mad he almost left the Kratos for good.”
“What made him stay?”
Devren’s smile deepened. “The Kratos is home for both of us. We got into a battle with Revolutionaries, and after Dad left our last medical officer on a Gaulded because he was using the painkillers instead of giving them to the injured crew, Tariq was the only one skilled enough to take care of the wounded. He kind-of fell into the role without thinking about it, and then he couldn’t deny it.”
Devren was quiet for a moment. The door to the medical wing slid open and two women with red H’s on their white hats came inside. They paused at the sight of Liora sitting next to Tariq.
“I’m glad to see you well,” one of the women said with a kind smile.
“Thank you,” Liora replied. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done for both of us.”
The woman nodded. “We’ll tend to Tariq now, if that’s okay with you.”
“Yes, please,” she replied.
When Devren turned to Liora, he had an expression she couldn’t read. “Liora, can I show you something?”
She nodded. “Alright.”
When she rose, he reached out a hand to steady her, but she shook her head. “I feel stronger, thank you.”
It was true. Sitting had helped her regain her bearings, and she felt mostly like her old self, if just a little tired.
Liora wasn’t thrilled about leaving in her medical gown, but the Ventican outfit she normally wore was nowhere to be seen. She made a mental note to ask the nurse about it when she returned.
Liora glanced back once before they left the medical wing. The sight of Tariq lying motionless in the bed gripped her heart in a fist. His voice echoed in her head.
“Live or die, Liora, we fight our battles together. Promise me.”
“Keep fighting, Tariq,” she whispered. “Don’t you give up on me.”
Liora followed Devren up the hallway.
“Zran’s asked to take over for Shathryn,” Devren told her as they walked. “I’ve found him to be a fast learner. He’ll be a competent exterior analytic specialist.” A smile crossed his face. “And I don’t think O’Tule will mind too much.”
“Me, either,” Liora replied. The thought of Zran becoming a member of the Kratos crew warmed her heart.
Instead of heading to the bridge, Devren paused at the first door along the crew quarters wing. Liora had never been inside the captain’s rooms. When the door slid open, she stared at the massive chamber. All the luxuries of a homestead ship were represented in the beautifully upholstered couches, the fine golden wood detailing, the gilded mirrors, and the intricate end tables fastened to the floor in case of zero-gravity conditions. Liora could only imagine the grandeur of the adjoining rooms.
“Technically, I was supposed to take over these rooms when I became captain,” Devren said.
Liora turned to see him studying a picture in a gilded frame on the wall above the faux fireplace. The picture was of his father, Captain Rius Metis, standing on a platform. Devren stood on his right and Tariq on his left. Both boys wore their full Coalition uniforms and bore the youthful look of recent graduates. Captain Metis had a proud smile on his face and his hands on each of their shoulders.
“I guess I felt like taking over these quarters would be accepting the fact that he’s gone,” Devren said quietly without taking his eyes from the photograph. “Tariq said since I’m captain, I can do whatever I want, including leaving these rooms as a symbol of respect for my father if I wanted. I think we both like the thought of it staying the way Dad had left it.”
“I wish I’d known him,” Liora said honestly.
“He would have liked you,” Devren told her with a smile. “After he got over the Damaclan thing.” He winked.
Liora laughed. The first and only time she had met Captain Metis was when he found her in Devren’s quarters after his son had freed her from Malivian’s circus ship. The Kratos had been under siege from the Revolutionaries, and Captain Metis had thrown them in the brig to deal with at a time when the Kratos wasn’t under threat. Unfortunately, it had also been the same battle in which the captain had been killed.
“He respected inner strength,” Devren continued, “And you’re the strongest person I know. He would like you as much as my mother does.”
That made Liora smile. “How is Mrs. M doing?”
“She’s happy,” Devren replied. “Your father gave my mother and Kiari a home on Corian. My mother would never be content living on someone else’s charity, so he arranged for her to work at the merchant hospital. She’s busy and happy to be.”
“How about Kiari?”
Devren glanced at her. “You’re kind to ask about her.” He gave her a searching look. “I know she threw herself at Tariq on Verdan.”
“It was none of my business,” Liora began.
Devren shook his head. “Of course it’s your business. You love Tariq, and that means more than the Macrocosm to me. I just want you to know that hurting Kiari by rejecting her about killed Tariq. After all he’s been through, the thought of causing anyone else heartache is what has made him close himself off. But all he could talk about was you. He said when Kiari kissed him, he wished it was you. When he realized you saw the kiss, it broke his heart.”
Devren glanced at her. “He tol
d me about seeing you hit the side of the ship you guys stole from the Calypsan. He said it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. You were so precise, and so lethal.” He grinned. “He said he was actually scared of you for a moment.”
Liora laughed. It felt good to talk about Tariq like he might walk into the room at any moment. She had to believe that he would wake up. She wouldn’t let herself think otherwise.
“Kiari’s doing good,” Devren continued, “She’s helping Mom and might take night classes in botany. She said she’s getting tired of dealing with blood and figured plants would be easier.”
“She has a point,” Liora replied. “Plants don’t cause wars.”
“Unless you’re a Calypsan and your ship full of grass gets stolen.”
Liora grinned. “For the record, we borrowed it with the intention of not returning it, and that ship smelled like it was made of rice grass. It was suffocating.”
Devren chuckled. “I’ll bet Tariq enjoyed that.”
“He complained as much as I did.”
Devren’s smile faltered. Liora knew he worried about Tariq waking up as much as she did. Neither of them could bear the thought of what would happen if he slipped from his coma into something final.
“This is the reason I brought you here,” Devren said. “I found this yesterday. I couldn’t stand waiting to see if either of you would wake up, so I wandered in here. I reached up to straighten this frame,” he performed the action, “And this fell out.”
A little black square dropped into Devren’s hand from behind the picture frame. Without a word, Devren pressed it into the reader on the wall.
Captain Metis’ face appeared. He looked tired but intent.
“I have been given orders from the Coalition to recover an object from planet F One Zero Four of the Cetus Dwarf Galaxy. Further research into the object has shown it to be an Omne Occasus, a galaxy imploder.” He paused and rubbed his eyes with one hand as if the next words were painful to say. When he looked up, determination filled his gaze. “I am the fourth generation of Coalition captains through the Metis family. I have been schooled in discipline and battle tactics, protocol and political etiquette, but honor and the knowledge of right and wrong come from my heart and the teachings of my father.”
His gaze sharpened. “Colonel Lefkin, I will not deliver the Omne Occasus into the hands of the Coalition. No one should own that kind of power. If your intentions are to keep the Omne Occasus so that the Revolutionaries, Ketulans, pirates, or Scavs don’t get ahold of it, then you won’t try to stop me from destroying it. If your intentions are to use the Omne Occasus for your own means, then may mercy be with you. This is the last transmission you will have from me until after the Omne Occasus is dealt with.”
The screen went dark.
“Why would he make a copy of his transmission?” Liora asked.
Devren looked back at her. “The only thing I can think of is he had his suspicions about how Colonel Lefkin would react, and he wanted to prepare whoever followed in his footsteps for the Colonel’s orders.”
“He knew you would be next,” Liora said.
“He hoped,” Devren replied.
“I know he’d be proud that you succeeded in destroying the Omne Occasus,” Liora told him.
“He would be happy to know that the Metis captains have continued for another generation, and that I don’t follow orders blindly, regardless of the fact that I might be the last Metis captain in our line, ever.” He paused, then gestured toward the screen with a small smile. “I think he would be proud.”
A thought lingered in Liora’s mind. “Who are the Ketulans that he mentioned?”
“I’m not sure.” Devren pulled the card from the reader and placed it back behind the frame. “I have Hyrin researching that as we speak. I’ve never heard of them before.”
“Me, either,” Liora replied. It was strange to find a race she had never heard of. She had crossed the Macrocosm in Malivian’s circus. At least some form of every race had seemed to present itself either within the circus or as a spectator.
Devren leaned against the back of one of the finely upholstered couches. “It’s just nice to know I made the right choice.”
Liora smiled at him. “You saved an entire galaxy, not to mention the Damaclan race. You made the right choice on your own; your father would be very happy about the type of son he raised.”
“For the record, I had plenty of help in making the decision,” Devren said. He crossed his arms and gave her a searching look. “Speaking of fathers, yours has been very worried about you. I don’t think us returning with his daughter on her possible deathbed was what Senior Commandant Day expected when we left. He’s been beside himself.”
The thought of talking to her father after all that had happened made Liora anxious. For some reason, the situation that should have be so normal set her on edge.
Devren put a hand on her arm. “I can come with you,” he said quietly.
Liora realized how closely he watched her. She forced a smile and shook her head. “He’s my father, right? I’ll be fine.”
She made her way to the door.
“He sent over a package with a note that said it was for you when you awoke. I had O’Tule put it on your bed.”
“Thank you,” Liora told him.
“You look strained,” Devren said. “Are you sure you don’t need some more rest before you go see him? After all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine. As soon as I’m done talking to him, I’ll be back to see how Tariq’s doing. I’d like to be there when he wakes up.”
“Tariq’s lucky to have you,” Devren replied.
Liora watching him, wondering if Devren felt any jealousy or hostility toward his friend. Instead, she found only pure concern.
He smiled at her and said with honesty bright in his eyes, “If he pulls through, it’s because you gave him something worth living for.”
“He did the same for me,” Liora said. “Thank you for being such a good friend.”
She walked through the door to the hall. The sound of her bare feet on the tile echoed back at her, muted thuds within the hallway that had become her safe place, her home.
Liora put a hand to the panel beside her door. It slid open to reveal the small room with O’Tule’s paintings on the walls. A package wrapped in Corian blue and tied with string sat on her bed. A little card on top had been written in a firm hand.
‘For Officer Liora Day, S.S. Kratos. With care, Senior Commandant Julius Day.’
The note brought a small smile to Liora’s lips. She realized it was the first time she had ever seen her father’s handwriting or heard his given name.
She pulled on the string and the wrapping opened to reveal a sheath on top of a pile of cloth.
A knock sounded on Liora’s door. She pressed the panel for it to open. O’Tule stood there. The small, green-skinned woman gave her a big smile.
“I’m so glad you’re awake!” she exclaimed, hugging Liora. “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed Tariq, and I’ve missed Shathryn so badly I barely know what to do with myself. Thank goodness for Zran.”
“Devren told me Zran’s part of the crew now,” Liora said.
O’Tule nodded happily. “Isn’t it wonderful? He’s so grateful. He’s been studying the policies and procedures manuals nonstop since the captain offered him the position.” She glanced behind Liora at the bed. “Did you get a gift?”
Liora stepped to the side so she could come in. “It’s from my father.”
O’Tule entered the room, her eyes on the package. “What is it?”
“I was just opening it,” Liora replied. She walked back to the bed and picked up the sheath from on top. A closer look showed that it was the same type of sheath Brandis wore on his forearm beneath his shirtsleeve. She pulled out one of the two blades to check its sharpness. She gave an appreciative nod. “It’s a nice knife.” She glanced at O’Tule. “Should I be concerned th
at whenever I receive a gift from anyone, it’s a weapon?”
O’Tule took the knife from her. She tested it as well and smiled. “Don’t think of this as a knife.” At Liora’s quizzical expression, she held up the blade. “This is a metaphor. Those who love you know what it’s taken for you to get here, and they want to enable your ability to stay. You have fought for every second of your life. They are offering what they can to aid in that fight.” She handed Liora the blade back.
Liora slipped it into the sheath and fastened it on her left forearm. It fit securely against her skin and wouldn’t snag when she moved.
O’Tule pointed to the rest of the package. “What’s that?”
Liora picked it up. A closer look showed that the cloth was Ventican like the outfit the Zamarian woman had given her. She lifted up the top. The cut was different from the outfit she had worn before. The hem was crafted in Corian blue, the design was form fit, and there was detail work along the neckline. Gloves in the same material sat on a pair of pants with a matching hemline.
O’Tule whistled. “Ventican,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything so rare.”
Liora didn’t point out that what she had worn before was of the same material. The armored clothing was made by the gray-furred race from Hoarth. It was supple, yet contained an armored weave that offered far more protection than a regular uniform. Its cost was far beyond anything she had ever earned, yet here she was, looking at the second complete outfit she apparently now owned.
“Liora,” O’Tule said.
Liora looked at her.
“You’re going to see your father, right?”
Liora nodded.
“Let me do your hair,” O’Tule offered. At Liora’s surprised look, she said with a smile, “It’s a bit of a mess. I don’t have Shathryn’s skill with scissors, but I’m a fair hand with a comb and an iron. Shathryn always said a girl with good hair can make it anywhere.”
Liora glanced in the mirror near the washroom door. Her dark hair was below her shoulders and a mess. The slight curls she usually kept under control tangled around her face.
