PROCESS OF LOADING GROUND TEAMS IN CAPITAL CITY AND
SIMULTANEOUSLY THE FOURTH SHIP.
7) SLIP SCANNER REPORTS ENEMY TRANSMITTED MESSAGES AT
TIME OF INITIAL STRIKE AND JUST BEFORE FINAL ATTACK.
7) INTREPID WAS NOT ENGAGED BY ENEMY.
8) ALL ENEMY AT GROUND ENGAGEMENT KIA. THERE ARE BELIEVED
TO BE SOME DOZENS OF ENEMY SURVIVORS IN CAPITAL CITY.
8) REGRETFULLY SUFFERED 4 MARINE KIA PLUS WO4 BENJAMIN PRICE.
6 WIA NONE SERIOUSLY.
9) FROM ENEMY SLIP ACTIVITY WE EXPECT ENEMY RESPONSE IN
FORCE IN THE NEAR FUTURE.
11) INTREPID WILL REMAIN ON STATION UNTIL DIRECTED OTHERWISE.
12) EAGLE AND FRIENDSHIP PING 121.5 ON ARRIVAL IF NO
ENEMY PRESENT.
HENDERSON
END
"That is going to shake some souls at HQ," her XO said after reading the report.
"Maybe. They're too far away, Alonzo, to be of any real good to us. Eagle and Friendship are coming, but we won't see them for at least a week."
"So, for now, we're all there is."
"Yup. If the enemy sends enough ships, we'll have a damnable time holding them off."
Bass pulled up the ship's Weapons Status on his workstation. "Still, thirty-five Bludgeons, twenty-two Lances is a long way from nothing. We should be able to hold them off for a while."
"As long as we can keep from being detected, yes. As soon as they find us..."
"It could get ugly, like, Sigma ugly."
"Yes."
Alonzo changed the subject. "What are we going to do about the bodies in the pasture? We can't just leave them there to rot."
"No. After dawn tomorrow I'll go see Eaagher and see what he wants us to do."
"Tomorrow? There's still at least fifteen hours of daylight left down there."
She shook her head. "Not today, Alonzo. I can't send another shuttle down there right now."
Alonzo let that go. He'd have gone back immediately, but Henderson was the Captain, so they'd wait. "So, again, what will we do with them?"
"I don't know what the Seekers' practices are, but they might have a suggestion."
"What about the enemy's practices?"
"I don't care. No, that's wrong. I do care, and if I knew what they wanted, I'd make sure that was the one thing we didn't do."
"Ugh, you do ruthless very well, Captain."
Joanne smiled grimly and shrugged. "It's a gift."
As Alonzo smiled in response, she got back up and returned to her cabin for a few hours' sleep.
There was nothing more to be done tonight. Sunrise at the Seekers' location was forty hours away. She needed the time, and she suspected most of her crew did, too.
Columbia
Kapteyn Station
Thursday, December 8, 2078, 1730 UTC
The Fleet's newest and most popular starbase was in the southern constellation Pictor, near the red sub-dwarf Kapteyn's Star, almost 13 light-years southeast (in Right Ascension terms) of Earth and about 10 light-years south of Inor. Kapteyn's Star is too faint to be seen from Earth with the naked eye, so it didn't get a name from the Greeks or Romans or even a designation as part of Pictor. First identified in the late 19th century, Kapteyn is about one quarter the mass of the Sun, with an even smaller fraction of its luminosity, just over 1%.
Kapteyn Station was much bigger than Tranquility II, intended to provide ample space for rest and relaxation for visiting crews. Off-ship hotel space was available, and a small-town 'Main Street' of restaurants, pubs, and shops gave it a feeling of being back home. The 'sky' above Main Street was occupied not by a familiar yellow-white sun but by the red dwarf, a strange yellow-orange color to human eyes.
The better rooms in the hotel looked out at Kapteyn, and the view was spectacular, with the small 'sun' in the foreground and the diamond-like stars behind. The rooms were comfortable and reminiscent of those in any of the better hotels on Earth. But the view, beautiful as it was, reminded them that this was not home but a strange and dangerous place very far away. One of the station's best attractions was a long, wide walkway, the 'Promenade,' which ran on the outside of the station behind Main Street's shops.
As Barker's plans for offensive operations were being developed, the Fleet was out reexamining the stars in the south that had been part of the original randomized search. This time, the routes were less random and more efficient, and they frequently included a visit to Kapteyn. Columbia stopped there after checking two typical systems, neither of which had any enemy presence.
Late in the afternoon, Mike Clark, Ramon Flores, Melinda Hughes, and a few other officers from Columbia spilled out of the airlock, a high-volume mass of cascading gregarious noise. David Powell had passed on this outing in order to complete some Intel reports he had promised Katch he'd finish. He'd watched them rumble down the central passageway, catching Melinda Hughes' eye as they made the turn for the airlock. She leaned back with a sly smile before disappearing around the corner.
They squeezed themselves into a booth in Main Street's best (and only) Italian place, Uncle Vito's. They had a great time recalling the search for body parts, at least, those events that could be repeated in public, over generous plates of lasagna, chicken parmesan, and pizza, and numerous bottles of the house red. The wine was pretty good, if a little weak by home standards. Still, it went well with the food, and they enjoyed the meal and their company together. Clark found himself between Melinda and Ramon, people whose company could be counted on for plenty of laughter. Tonight was no different.
Somewhere after the salad and before the main course, about two glasses of wine into the evening, he felt Melinda wrap his right little finger with her left. Her touch was gentle but firm. He waited a moment for her to pull her hand away, but it didn't seem to be going anywhere. He glanced at her, but she was looking at Lieutenant Abbas, across the table and to her right, intently sharing a story about Katch. He returned her gentle pressure and shortly they had two fingers together.
Confirmation received.
Mike now had a real problem. A good problem, really, but a problem nonetheless. He was as right-handed as could be, and he now had to eat his dinner left-handed, single-handed, all without drawing attention to himself or Melinda. He was suddenly glad he had ordered the lasagna, which he could eat with only a fork. He made it through the rest of the meal as he and Melinda worked their way through their remaining two fingers to be fully intertwined. His head was spinning a little, and not from the wine. Mike knew Melinda very well, liked her, and respected her abilities. They had spent quite a lot of time working together recently, including several lunches and dinners, but this overture took him by surprise. Their hands held fast until the time came to pay the check and leave. He disengaged as gently as he could, saying nothing, and they moved on out of the restaurant.
Flores, no fool, had caught on to the whole thing about halfway through dinner. He grabbed the rest of the officers and insisted they head back to a pub he had heard of to finish off the evening. He managed to get everyone away from Mike and Melinda without anyone noticing. Or, without them admitting to having noticed. Slick. Once they were a few steps down the walkway, he threw Mike a smiling 'you owe me pal' look over his shoulder, then returned to moving the group away.
They stood for a moment, neither sure what to say.
"Let's walk," Mike said, "there is an entrance to the Promenade at the end of the street." Melinda nodded, recaptured his hand, and they moved slowly down the walkway, away from the fading noise of their shipmates. The street held a variety of small businesses, from bakery to ice cream to souvenirs to jewelry. They were quiet until she stopped at a Christmas shop full of Russian nesting dolls, small lit trees, tiny replicas of 19th-century English buildings, and a great many Santa's. For a moment she just looked in the window.
"Melinda —"
"My Dad always did the tree," she interrupted, her voice quiet and somber. "It was fake, of course, but we l
oved it. He dragged it out of the basement every year and spent most of the day piecing it together. The world always seemed to change that day. It's funny, every year, that tree went up and suddenly we were happier."
He looked at her, then down at their hands. "I think I know what you mean."
She laughed a little, smiled, then went back to the wistful look she had had when they saw the shop.
After a moment, Mike went on. "We had a line of blue spruces that we pulled from each year. Then the next spring we'd replant where we took the last one. It was fun when I was a kid, but later, I thought it was just another shitty chore that got black stains on my hands." He paused. "What an idiot I was."
Melinda didn't seem to hear him, still looking in the store. "He's gone, you know? Just like that, one day he wasn't there anymore." Her grip became stronger on his hand.
"We need to talk, Melinda. I need to understand —"
"Oh, we'll talk, Michael Clark, we're gonna talk a lot!" her voice reflected her smile, the melancholy quickly fading. "But for now, let's just walk, OK?"
They moved on down the street, which was maybe a hundred meters long, and at the end crossed over to the hotel's Promenade. It was built of a double layer of glass that stretched three meters from ceiling to floor. The Promenade faced away from Kapteyn, and with no star to diminish them, the stars were bright and vivid. The glass wall was set out from the station, with a clear floor and ceiling a meter wide. The walkway was dimly lit to enhance the view, and if you stood close, it gave the illusion of being in space, not looking out on it. Some found the illusion a little too real and became nauseous, nervous, or even agoraphobic when they first saw it. But for most, it was a wondrous place to see.
Mike loved it, and so did Melinda. They walked a fair distance and then found themselves a seat on one of the benches that were installed every ten meters or so.
They sat quietly for a few moments, then Mike began.
"Melinda we've been on Columbia for a while now. We've worked together a lot, had a few meals lately. You're wonderful to be around, that much I know, and most people you meet love you. But I had no idea —"
"Oh, Mike, Mike, Mike..." she said quietly, gently cutting him off. "They like me, some respect me, and some, I am sure, want something far less high minded from me. But love? I don't think so. Love..."
"Is a choice," he continued for her, "a commitment, something conscious, not completely emotional."
"Exactly."
"So, why tonight? What's changed?"
She shrugged. "I have had these feelings since before this last mission. I just decided I wanted you to know it, now, and not wait until some supposed 'right time.' You're kind, you're thoughtful, you don't look at me as an object instead of a person. I just have had this solid feeling around you, Mike. You can be counted on, even when it's hard. I've seen it."
"As can you, I think."
"I'd like to think so, but I've watched you work, and I see how you are with your crew, how you are with the rest of us. It's great, Mike, really."
"Melinda, I am just another junior officer doing his job." He was going to say more but decided not to. He was going to say he was flattered that she felt this way, or maybe honored, but neither of those words or anything else he could think of really expressed the feeling he had.
She spoke intently as she continued to look out at the stars.
"Mike Clark, you were never and will never be just another officer. You, and Powell, something about you is just a cut above the rest of us. You'll see."
"I have never considered myself any —"
"Of course not," she interrupted him again, waving her hand dismissively. "If you did, it would ruin it."
He let the matter drop, doubtful that her assessment was entirely objective. He'd worked hard to be good at all the things she mentioned, but he never considered that it was anything other than the way it should be done.
She sat back a little and looked at him.
"So why take my hand tonight? Why not push it away? It would have been easy to do."
"Well, you did catch me off guard. But by now you must know that I like you as well. Everything you say about me — and David — many of us would say about you. Yes, there's no getting around that you are an attractive woman, as you say, but no one I know thinks of you first in that way. It's part of who you are, just like being too tall and too skinny is part of me; but what I see when I look at you is not a pretty girl but a smart officer working very hard to get stuff done. The outside stuff, for me and for most others, I think, is way less important."
They became quiet as a few small groups of people and couples passed their bench. They shared a few quiet 'Good Evening' greetings with others taking in the view.
"I like the skinny."
"I like the blue eyes."
After a moment looking out at the stars, Mike spoke. "So where do we go from here? I don't have a class ring to give you."
"Very funny. Let's just spend some time together, OK? Maybe some movies, listen to some music? Let's see who we are when it's just us."
"Sure. I would like that. So, what do we say to the others?"
"Nothing for now. There's nothing to tell, yet."
"Works for me. I have the watch in the morning. Are you ready to head back?"
"I could sit here a very long time," she said.
"The stars will be here tomorrow," he said brightly.
She gripped his hand tightly again. "I wasn't talking about the stars."
As they stood, she reached up, her hand on the back of his neck, and on tiptoe she kissed him lightly. They had a brief embrace, then headed along the Promenade towards the ship. As they reached the entrance and headed back out on to Main Street by some silent agreement, they dropped their hands.
After they separated, Mike felt suddenly cold and disconnected, and the feeling surprised him. He began to think as they walked off Main Street and down the passages to the ship's airlock that the evening had shown him more than he realized at first. He was no loner, but neither was he one to rush into a relationship like he just had. She said she felt 'solid' around him. Her presence had had that same kind of effect on him, too, making him feel somehow secure, that he was somehow in the right place in his life. She had opened a door to a future he had not even known was possible. This would be an evening that he would always remember, even if nothing ultimately came of it. Someone he admired, admired him as well, was willing to take a risk to tell him, and wanted to see what else there might be found between them. Not many people get that, he thought, and he was happy that Melinda Hughes would give him this gift. She had her own reasons, he was sure, and he had no illusions about that, but it was still a gift, and he knew it.
His alarm waking him at 0515 for his 0600 watch disturbed dreams he would never have dreamt just a day earlier. It was a new day in a new universe, and he was glad to see what was next.
Columbia
Kapteyn Station
Friday, December 9, 2078, 0700 UTC
Dan called his staff together early in the morning. They were anticipating a trip to yet another red dwarf.
"We have orders."
"Orders, sir?" Melinda asked.
"Yeah. Orders. First, we're going directly home from here. Today."
"Home?" David asked hopefully, visions of Carol suddenly dancing in his head.
"Yeah. Merry Christmas."
Maz Dawes studied his Captain's face carefully. "If this was good news, you'd be smiling."
"Yeah, Maz, that's true. We've been assigned to be Barker's flagship."
"Us?"
"Yeah. I guess I pissed him off more than I thought."
"Or, he likes what you've done."
"Katch, I'm not looking for compliments. Barker is a fine officer, don't misunderstand, and he would have been my choice for the southern theater. But we're going to be taking on a pile of staff weenies and our freedom of action will be nil. Our main job as the flagship will be to keep Barker breathing."
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"Not what you came out here for, sir?" Weapons Officer Victor Shoemaker asked.
"No. Not even close." Dan sighed, then continued with resignation in his tone. "OK, tell your people. I want to be underway by 0900."
"How long have you known?" Melinda asked, holding Smith back from leaving the wardroom.
"About a week. I didn't see any need to tell you until we were ready to go home, and I didn't want it leaked on the station."
Dan started again to leave, then turned around. "Oh, one more thing."
"Yes?" Maz asked, clearly worried.
Dan looked at his old friend. "David, you're going with Evans on Cobra."
"What, sir?"
"Evans asked for you and CINC agreed."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. May I have some more, sir?" he responded with a mixture of sadness and sarcasm.
"David, Cobra is a huge opportunity for you. Don't discount that part. I'd rather you stayed here, too, but CINC has other ideas."
"Yes, sir, I understand."
"They're pulling Myra Rodgers off Dunkirk to handle Surveillance and taking Jack Ballard away from Terri Michael, too."
"And Carol," David said quietly, "She adores Jack. They've made a pretty good team."
"Well, there's a good recommendation. So, David, go be the good spook we all have always known you really are."
Dismissed, they went out to prepare the ship to undock from Kapteyn, and to prepare the crew for a very different mission.
Dan stopped by the Intel section a few minutes later.
"Lieutenant Powell, may I have a moment?"
David left his discussion with Katch and stepped out into the passageway with his Captain.
"Sir?"
"Listen, David, there's going to be an offensive."
"I thought so. Fleet has to get something positive going."
"Yeah, but that's not exactly why we're here."
David looked at Dan with some skepticism. "OK, so why are we here?"
"Linda and I have moved up the ceremony."
"Oh?"
"We're getting married December 27th at the new Fleet place in the Keys."
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