by S. E. Smith
Hearing her perspective, Rigel worked through his anger. Would he have acted any differently if he’d been in her boots? If it was his mission that had been threatened?
No. He also would have taken steps.
In time, he and Sona stopped talking. Started expressing themselves in other, more intimate ways. Spent a good portion of the flight to LaGuardia in each other’s arms.
She called it bonding.
Rigel wasn’t sure what to call it. Or where it was headed. But she wasn’t his prisoner any longer, she was—as she’d always claimed to be—his Network colleague. His very passionate, imaginative, and trusted colleague.
And Maura was one very happy little StarDog.
Captain Garr received permission to put the ship down near the Great Library in the City of Kings so the datacells could be more easily transferred to Banshee’s data storage. All around the ship, the immense flatcrete and cobblestone plaza spread—as large as any regional spaceport. It was crowned by a skyline of enormous pyramid structures tinted in soft pastels, many carved with ancient glyphs and augmented by shady porticos and vine-draped ramadas. Magnificent fountains spouted dancing waters, and lush tropical gardens burst from a multitude of planters and green spaces.
“There’s the monument you curse so often,” Sona chided, gesturing to the four mighty statues that towered over Gellen Plaza. “A tribute to those who shaped this world…and all the worlds that came after.”
Rigel examined the lofty sculptures with interest. Maybe someday he’d have to read those histories.
His gaze moved to the imposing, windowless structure topped with many high towers.
“The Great Palace,” Sona said. “As large as a city itself. It’s said that it’s been under continuous construction for over thirteen millennia.”
“You know a lot about this place.”
“My people once lived within those palace walls and walked these plazas.” Her gaze returned to the monuments. “T’mar was the founder of more than just our monarchy—he left LaGuardia to colonize Rathskia. My world has always advocated preserving this part of its history. If their ally, Ithis, is truly planning to invade, it’s troubling.”
“You talk about the Alliance like you’re no longer part of it.”
“I’m Rathskian, always. But I’m against what the Alliance has become.”
He studied her profile, wondering again if it was Sona the Alliance fleet was searching for so desperately. If they were aware she’d aligned herself with the Network and were out to hunt her down, it explained her determination not to be taken alive back on Banna. As well as her earlier concerns about landing on LaGuardia—a planet on the brink of an Alliance invasion.
Rigel’s attention moved back to the landmarks. “If Ithis invades…all of this will be destroyed?”
“Wiped clean. The monuments razed. The structures leveled. All evidence of our past, erased. Thirteen thousand years of human experience, gone. The Network won’t be able to prevent the destruction, so they’re doing what they can to preserve the history. The writings. The images. The truth of our ancient heritage.”
Rigel turned to her. “Only a few hours ago, it didn’t seem to matter to you.”
“It mattered.” She licked her lips and dropped her eyes. “But my obligation to the Network mattered more. That’s what I was trying to protect.”
He gave her a long look. “What is your obligation?”
She averted her eyes and her hands curled into fists. “I will be what the Network decided I must be.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“Come to the galley,” she said. She turned and walked to the lift, not waiting to see if he’d follow.
He did, of course.
Once they were in the small kitchen, Rigel made up a meal of noodles. Sona wanted nothing for herself.
As soon he got settled in his chair, she leaned forward to park her elbows on the galley table.
“My mother never gave my father another child,” she began in a quiet voice, “so no firstborn son and heir in my family.”
Rigel was aware of the strict familial traditions on Rathskia, and how a mated couple’s firstborn male could advance or reverse the fortune and standing of their parents. On her planet, a pairing for the firstborn son was arranged strictly for status.
“So your father has no heir?”
She looked hurt. “No.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that as an insult to you.”
“I know. But it’s the truth.” She averted her eyes. “Without a son, his standing is in question. But my father was in a position to advocate for my bonding with a high-born Rathskian.”
Rigel paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth and fought to tamp down the upwelling of protest in his gut. Hades, his reaction was completely illogical. He had no say in her future. He wasn’t even sure yet that he wanted one.
“How do you feel about that?”
She gave her head a definitive shake, but whether her action signaled a response in the negative, a rebellion against expectations, or was only to whisk the shining black hair away from her eyes, he couldn’t be sure. “I take each day as it comes.”
“Obviously.” Rigel pushed his noodles away. Common sense told him to let this lie. But he wasn’t sure he could leave it at that. “So what happened between us…”
“Is between us,” she responded. “What I do now has no bearing on my potential future. Until the bond is made, there are no requirements.”
“So…no regrets,” Rigel said in a flat voice
“Not true.” Sona’s shoulders slouched and she closed her eyes. “I now deeply regret my obligation.”
Captain Garr blustered by in the corridor. “Come up to Flight, both of you.”
They exchanged looks—neither happy to end their talk with that declaration—and followed the captain into the lift.
“The data’s been transferred. I’m prepping to float,” Garr said. “Time I briefed you.”
“About?” Rigel asked, turning aside to let Sona pass when the lift opened on the upper deck.
“The next stage,” Garr answered as they exited the lift. “You’ll need to prepare yourselves. Strap in and ready for launch.”
Sona took her usual spot in the co-pilot’s couch and Rigel settled in the jump seat behind the captain. Maura whined and scratched at Sona’s leg until she lifted her from the deck.
The ship’s rear drive fired, and Banshee hurtled headlong toward the heavens over LaGuardia.
“What does the next stage involve?” Sona asked, once they’d left the atmosphere and the reduced roar and G-forces allowed her to speak.
“Fear and agony,” Garr answered matter-of-factly.
Rigel and Sona traded alarmed looks. Maura gave an anxious bark.
“You need to understand what’s coming,” the captain warned.
Sona hugged Maura to her chest. “Explain.”
“I told you what this ship can do,” Garr said calmly. “How much do you know about the M-drive?”
“It’s a dimensional boost,” Sona replied. “It allows a vessel to travel enormous distances by entering a higher dimension of space made up of dark energy and dark matter.”
“It’s called DEDspace,” Garr clarified. “Means we’ll be on approach to MONA Loa in the blink of an eye.” He turned to them with a grim smile. “That part’s the good news.”
Rigel looked Garr in the eye. “What’s the bad?”
“Tighten your crash harnesses, grab hold of something, and brace yourselves. It’s going to hurt like Hades.”
Captain Garr hit the boost.
Rigel swore in seven languages while Sona let loose a bloodcurdling wail.
Chapter Twelve
“Holy Hades,” Rigel croaked, raising his head. He flattened his palms against his chest, checking for blood, positive his body had been slashed to ribbons in the jump. “What the fug, man? You couldn’t have given us more warning?”
Sona had a death grip on her fli
ght couch armrest, breathing in sharp, panicked bursts as she fought to regain sanity. In her lap, Maura was whining and panting.
Captain Garr angled the helmet to the side. “Put a lock on it. You survived, you’re intact…and we’re here.”
Rigel gripped the back of the captain’s flight couch and leaned to the left to get a look out the forward vu-portal. Garr had told the truth.
Ahead, MONA Loa Station floated at the very edge of a starless expanse. A distant, faded Andromeda Galaxy wheeled in the empty reaches beyond.
“MONA Loa,” Sona wheezed.
“As you’ve now learned, there’s a high price to pay for the privilege of skipping about the cosmos.”
Rigel forced out a breath. “I’ve been aboard Spirit before when she’s boosted. It was nothing like that.”
“Spirit and Specter are sixteen generations removed from old Banshee here.” Garr stroked the ship’s bulkhead like the craft was a pet feline. “Zaviar found ways to buffer the worst of the effects in his latest generation ships.”
“Gigadam, man, you think you could’ve—”
“Hold your tongue,” Garr snapped. “This station is cocooned in electro catch fields. I need to concentrate on our approach. Unless you want to burn up within sight of headquarters.”
“Where’s the transport?” Sona muttered to herself.
Rigel peered out the vu-portal again. Four huge docking arms jutted from the station’s vertical central core below an enormous octagonal cap that held the command and admin sections, making MONA Loa look like a floating, high-tech mushroom. But without the Spirit mothership at dock. That couldn’t be good.
“How about you two remove yourselves from the bridge and leave me to handle this docking?”
No argument there. Rigel unfastened his crash harness and waited for Sona to rise before following her to the lift.
It’s a bad sign, Rigel thought once they were both descending to the main deck. Spirit should’ve been there by now. That meant the Network Command ship and key flagship were missing, along with the admiral and Commodore Gant. If disaster had struck, the intel Maura was carrying wouldn’t amount to a handful of comet dust. He needed to get an update as soon as he was cleared on MONA Loa.
His gaze flitted briefly to Sona’s profile. At least it gave him something else to focus on.
The lift door opened, and Sona stepped out into the corridor. “We should finish our talk. Would you like to go to our quarters? The galley?”
Normally, spending private time in their quarters was his choice, but that was before she’d dropped her bombshell on him. She’d been pledged to someone else all along. He thought they’d shared something special, but now…
Well, they’d be docked soon—if they didn’t incinerate first. Once they were on MONA Loa, they’d be going through individual disinfection and identity protocols, followed by debriefings and status updates. After these next few minutes, they could go their separate ways and Rigel could just forget they’d ever crossed paths.
“Let’s go to the galley,” he said.
When they reached it, he walked directly to the chiller and pulled out a bottle of water. Before he could turn back to the table, Sona wrapped her arms around him from behind, spreading her hands on his chest and resting her head against his back. It was a display of affection he hadn’t been prepared for.
He covered one of her hands with his own and slowly turned to face her. She raised her troubled gaze to meet his. “Are we still friends?”
“I’m not sure we ever were.”
“You’re angry with me for not saying something sooner.”
He leaned back against the counter. “Can’t say I saw it coming.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
Direct hit. He skirted her to carry his water to the table.
She hesitated then moved in slow steps to join him.
“We are very alike, you and I. We serve the Network first. All other considerations come second. Even our deepest feelings.” Rigel kept his eyes lowered and his attention on the table in front of him. “And I do have feelings for you, Rigel Blackline.”
Rigel pressed his lips into a tight line. “That’s not my name.”
Sona stiffened. “What?”
“Blackline is my field name. It identifies me by the team I’m assigned to. My real name is Rigel Jagger.”
“Jagger,” Sona repeated. “Like the Carduwan naval officer?”
Rigel took a long draw of his water before answering. “Captain Navene Jagger is my brother.” He lowered his eyes to the deck. “Though neither of us is especially happy about that.” Rigel gripped the edge of the table when the ship shimmied and the AG fluctuated. “Cap’s maneuvering. We should be docked soon.”
“There’s something I need to explain to you.” She extended her hand across the table but withdrew it when he made no move to connect. “The asset I’m delivering to the Network…is me.”
Rigel stared back at her. “You?”
“I have a role to play in the Network’s plans. I didn’t ask for it and it isn’t something I want—especially after the last couple of days—but I must follow through with it.”
Rigel finished the last of his water. She’d already told him everything he needed to know. He’d been a footnote in her journey. Too many lines had already been crossed. “I think it’s best you keep it to yourself.”
“I need to explain,” she repeated.
Gigadam, she just wasn’t going to let it go. “I don’t need to know. I only hope that what happened between us didn’t complicate matters for you.”
She pressed against her seatback. “I told you it didn’t.”
Captain Garr’s voice emitted from the wall-speaks on their deck. “We’re through the catch fields. Awaiting permission to dock. Best gather up your personal effects now.”
Rigel rose to deposit his empty water bottle in the galley receptacle. “Time to pack up.”
“I have nothing to collect,” Sona said, remaining in her seat.
He paused in the corridor to watch Sona stroke Maura’s fur, her face tilted down toward the StarDog.
“Coming, pard?”
Maura raised her head and looked at Rigel then Sona then back to Rigel. With a soft yap, she rose to all fours, gave Sona’s nose a parting kiss, and jumped to the deck.
“I follow.”
She started in his direction then suddenly turned and darted back to Sona, stretching up to place her little paws on the woman’s knee.
“Friend. Good friend.”
“Yes. Best friends,” Sona answered, ruffling the StarDog’s ears. “I hope we’ll see each other again, little one.” She fixed Rigel with a hopeful look. “I truly do.”
With a mournful whine, Maura eased to the floor and jogged back to Rigel, head hanging low and fluffy tail dragging. “Friend,” she emitted again, and it came with a wave of sorrow.
Rigel scooped the sulky little StarDog off the floor and deposited her on his shoulder, rubbing her soft fur.
“Partner,” he told her, turning to the crew cabin to retrieve his effects.
Chapter Thirteen
Rigel waited alone at the ship’s airlock, satchel in hand and Maura riding his shoulder. He peered through the hatch’s vu-portal into the expansive interior of the docking bay.
“We’re finally home, girl.”
His StarDog gave a half-hearted bark in reply.
He’d been trained on this station, spent many moons living in her quarters. It was as much a home to him as Carduwa had ever been.
MONA Loa was an ideal setting for Network headquarters. It provided the ultimate security, far beyond the reach of the Alliance. MONA stood for Mobile Operations for Network Activities. The Loa part of the name was what the station had been christened in her design phase. Zaviar Mennelsohn had created the self-sustaining station as part of his visionary plan, and he always named his craft after paranormal entities. From what Rigel understood, a loa was an intermediary spirit from
a long-forgotten place and time.
Captain Garr was still up on the bridge, powering down his ship now that they were secured at a berth along one of the station’s docking arms.
Sona was nowhere to be seen.
Probably for the best.
Maura made a soft mewling sound. “Friend Sona sad.”
He reached up to stroke Maura’s back in reassurance. So Sona was feeling it, too. He wasn’t sure what to think about that.
Sometime later, the soft clomp of footsteps leaving the lift announced the approach of his two shipmates. Rigel straightened and set his shoulders. Sona rounded the corner into the hatch access first and Garr followed. It seemed they’d patched things up, or at least reached some level of understanding about their altercation.
“Dock authority has given specific orders for clearing security protocol,” Garr informed him. “She goes first.” He fixed Rigel with a hard look. “You go last.”
Last? That wasn’t normal procedure. A returning Network field agent was always given priority for in-processing. Command was eager to get any intel they carried, and Rigel was about to deliver the motherlode. Why order Sona to be cleared first, unless their intent was to seize her and throw her in the brig pending interrogation?
He didn’t want to see that happen—really, he didn’t—but it was out of his hands. If she was who she claimed to be, it would all get sorted out.
Garr popped the hatch, and Rigel let Sona pass. “Take care,” he said as she exited the ship.
She looked back with an unconvincing smile and whispered, “You, too.”
Garr moved past him to wait his turn by the hatch.
Rigel watched Sona transit through the large tube now pressed to the hull of the ship. It surrounded the airlock, allowing passengers to access the scan point inside the pathogen-shielded barrier. The docking bay walls were lined with anti-explosive tiling. The Network didn’t take chances when it came to accepting outside personnel into its inner sanctum.
