“That probably wouldn’t be so bad for Alexis, either.”
“I think it’s had that effect on her, too; it’s just taking longer for it to show. Nigel has always been one to wear his emotions on his sleeve—it’s part of his heritage, I guess—but Alexis has closed herself off from her humanity, from her emotions, and it took longer for her to accept it.”
Walker smiled. “So, Boss, what’s it all mean?”
Sansar laughed. “I have no idea. Maybe it means nothing more than that there is someone for everyone, no matter how big a pain in the ass or how bitchy they are. Maybe it means you find love in the strangest places. Maybe it means you should never give up hope, even when things are the darkest. Who knows?”
“So, does that mean we’ll see you dancing around with Jim Cartwright sometime soon?”
Sansar’s eyes twinkled. “Six months ago, I would have laughed at the idea. He was too young, too inexperienced, too naïve. He has good genes, though, and he has come a long way. A girl could do worse than Jim.”
Walker’s jaw dropped even further than it had when he was watching Nigel and Alexis dance.
Sansar chuckled. “You can shut your mouth. Neither of us are the other’s type, and I’m a lot older than him, too. You don’t have to worry, that isn’t going to happen.”
It was Walker’s turn to chuckle. “You had me going there for a moment, because I never saw that happening. Not in a million years.”
“Really?” Sansar asked, sounding slightly annoyed. “Well, who would have seen Nigel and Alexis together? They hated each other when they first met. Besides—” she looked over to where Jim was shaking the hands of some of the NCOs from one of the smaller companies “—he does have a fascination with pinplants, and who has more of them than I do? He’s young and a CASPer driver, so he probably has a lot of stamina; whereas I have a lot of experience to share with him…”
Sansar laughed as Walker’s jaw dropped again. “I’m just kidding, but who is to say what is possible or impossible with love? Blue Sky Above! If Nigel and Alexis can get together, anything is possible.”
* * *
Winged Hussars Prime Base, New Warsaw System
Jim knocked on Alexis’ office door the next day and entered, as was customary of a fellow officer. She was sitting at her desk staring into space, using her pinplants. The back wall of her office was a single, five-meter-wide, one-and-a-half-meter-tall, clear crystal window looking out into space. Home was slowly moving out of view with the station’s rotation, and one of the Hussar’s fleets came into view.
“Sorry to disturb you, Alexis,” he said.
Her eyes refocused, and she nodded to him. “Not a problem, Jim. Sorry I was distracted last night.”
“I can understand,” he said. “It was a nice party.”
She gave him a quizzical look, then shrugged. “What’s on your mind?” she asked.
“The timetable for the attack on Sol.”
“Right to the matter,” she said with an appreciative nod. “You are Thaddeus’s son, after all.”
Jim smiled, and his cheeks got a little red. Wow, he thought. I forgot she knew Dad.
“Sansar and I have only briefly talked,” she continued, “but it won’t be long. I have six ships in for some quick repairs, and I need to meet with my tech people—the Geek Squad—to see if we can get the Mk 9 CASPers into some of our elite people’s hands. I’d like to have at least a platoon for each of our units, if possible.”
“I know my people would be excited,” Jim said. “So how long?”
“Say two weeks.”
Damn it, he thought. I was afraid of that. Jim’s jaw tightened, and he gave a little head shake.
“Is that a problem?” Alexis asked. “I know you’re eager and all, but we can’t really go any sooner.”
“It isn’t that,” he said. “I need a month.”
Alexis’ eyes went wide in surprise. Clearly that wasn’t what she was expecting. “Do you have a problem that needs attention? I can redirect resources to your people.”
“No, it’s not really a problem,” he said. “It’s the Raknar; we’re almost ready to go.”
“I was hoping that was the case, but why an entire month? It can’t take that long to load it and prep it for flight.”
“Not at all, but that isn’t the problem,” he said and sighed. He wanted to tell her the truth with every fiber of his being. And yet, he dared not do it. What would be her reaction to finding out her private star system was overrun with Dusman? The implications alone might cause her to respond poorly. He wasn’t taking it very well himself. I feel like a pawn, he thought. What part do I really have in this?
“Then explain it to me, if you will.”
“Sure,” he said. She gestured him to a chair in front of her rather modest desk, and he sat gratefully. Alexis’ office was in the 90% gravity wing of Prime Base; Jim wasn’t used to higher gravity anymore, and his back was sore. “You are aware there are quite a few Fae on Upsilon 4?”
“Yes,” she said. “There were also reports they were on the fleets as well.”
Jim knew he looked surprised, and she nodded. So, Dante’s assurance that nobody knew was a tad overstated. He was glad the Dusman hadn’t pulled one over on Alexis entirely.
“Hopefully, that didn’t cause any problems?” he asked.
“There’s been some pilfering,” she admitted. “I gave orders to tolerate it unless anything critical went missing. I know they were working on the Raknar.”
“Yes, they were,” he agreed. “I’ll happily compensate you for the equipment.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “That won’t be necessary, Jim. We’re all fighting for the same goal. However, I still don’t understand—why do you need a month?”
“I need Fae to operate the Raknar,” Jim said, “but that’s just part of the equation.” He took a deep breath and let the prepared lie go. “The Lumar used to be the Dusman.”
“I surmised as much after seeing that Tri-V Walker brought back from Capital Planet. Only…I’ve met them. We have a few Lumar in the Hussars, and Nigel brought back even more. They aren’t exactly the galaxy-leading type.”
“No,” Jim agreed. “Something happened after the Great War. A bio weapon or something. They’re not what they used to be. The Fae were their mechanical geniuses and half the team to operate a Raknar. It’s a mild form of telepathy, actually.”
“Fascinating,” Alexis said.
Jim nodded and continued. “The Lumar, or Dusman, were particularly good matches for the Fae. They were a nearly perfect team. But that’s gone.”
“You and your Fae seem to manage well. I saw the image of your fight on Talus with the Canavar. Entropy! That was incredible! And we now have proof Peepo is using Canavar as well. When this is over, we’re going to bury her.”
“We are a good match,” Jim agreed. Alexis looked expectant. “There are other good matches. The Fae weren’t dispersed in the fleet just to steal stuff, they were looking for partners.”
“Like you and your Fae—Splunk isn’t it?”
“Yes, Splunk, and that’s exactly it.”
“Did they find them some?”
“Six,” Jim said, “so far. They say there are more.”
“How many Fae are here?” she asked.
Jim swallowed, caught off guard. He’d been hoping that wouldn’t come up. More lies, he silently cursed. “Almost a hundred.”
Her eyes nearly bugged out. “It’s like they were waiting for something,” she said.
More than you know, Jim thought. “They’d never seen a Human until I met Splunk on Kash-kah. They were drawn to me.” He shrugged. “I’m just as overwhelmed as you are.”
“So,” Alexis said, “those six names?”
“Yes,” Jim replied, and put a mini slate on her polished desk. “They’re from across the Four Horsemen.” Alexis picked up the slate and examined the names.
“Your intention is to train them?”
; “As much as possible in a month, yes.”
“You have two Hussars, two Horde, one of yours, and one of Nigel’s. Have you asked them yet?”
“No,” Jim admitted, “you’re the first.”
“Lucky me,” she said. “Well, neither of these people are what I would classify as essential personnel, but I’m shorthanded already. What becomes of them in the long run?”
“I don’t know,” Jim admitted. “While they’re Raknar drivers, they’d be under my command.” He gave a shrug. “Afterward, we can figure it out.”
“Good enough for me,” she said, and pressed her intercom button. “Paka?”
“Colonel?” the Veetanho XO replied instantly.
“Please have Ensign Darrel Fenn and Sergeant Mia Kleve detached from active duty and sent over to Prime Base immediately.”
“Sir?”
“I’ll explain later. Arrange for a meeting room; have them there in two hours.”
“Understood, Colonel.”
Alexis looked at Jim, and he nodded. “Good luck with the others,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, and went out. A minute later, he was at another door and knocking. The portal slid open to reveal Colonel Shirazi in a T-shirt and jeans, a slate in one hand and a beer in the other.
“Jim,” he said, blinking in surprise. “What’s going on?”
“Nigel,” Jim said. “I have a request.”
“Anything,” Nigel replied.
“I hoped you would say that,” Jim said and handed him a slate.
Nigel looked at the device, then up at Jim. “Why her? What do you need her for?”
“Raknars,” Jim said. Nigel’s eyebrows rose, and Jim explained, similar to what he’d said to Alexis. Of course, since he and Nigel were both CASPer drivers, that altered his position a bit and allowed him to remind Nigel of how their capabilities could be essential to retaking Earth.
“I understand that much,” Nigel said, “but why her? She’s CASPer-qualified, but fighting isn’t her normal job.”
“The Fae made the calls on people,” he explained. “It’s something to do with compatibility.”
“Oh, I see.” Nigel picked up a slate and tapped a message. “Okay, she’ll be there.” He went to the little refrigerator in his room and brought two fresh bottles of beer. “A toast to your corps of Raknar,” he said.
Jim was taken aback. Raknar Corps? he thought. I like that. “I’m not really much for alcohol,” he complained.
“I know you are young and all,” Nigel said. Jim’s face darkened, and the man laughed congenially. “Just a drink, Jim. As friends?”
Jim looked at the offered beer for a moment, which Nigel had already opened. He gingerly accepted the bottle, and Nigel beamed.
“To victory,” Nigel said, holding his out.
“Victory,” Jim agreed and clinked the glass. He took a sip. It was a lot stronger than the beer his father used to drink, with a heady, hoppy smell. He didn’t exactly love it, but he also didn’t hate it. Nigel was watching Jim with a cocked eyebrow. “It’s not bad,” Jim said, and took another sip.
“Excellent!” Nigel roared, and downed half of his bottle in a long swallow.
Jim took a couple more drinks then set the beer on a coffee table. “I need to go see Sansar now,” he said.
Nigel looked a little disappointed but nodded in agreement. “More recruiting for your Raknar Corps?” he asked.
“Yes,” Jim agreed. “Thanks, Nigel.”
Down the hall, he found Sansar’s quarters and knocked a final time. Sansar opened the door, in uniform and with a slate in her hand. “Jim?” she asked, looking surprised. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to borrow a couple of your people,” he said, and began his spiel for the third time. She seemed the least surprised of his fellow Horsemen.
“I’ve been waiting for that request,” she said with a little smile. “Or one like it.”
“How were you expecting it?” Jim wondered.
“I had a dream.”
“I knew you had them,” he said, “but I didn’t know you were having them about me.”
“Not you, specifically,” she said. “It’s your Raknar. I guess, in retrospect, I should have known it would be you. Do you need specific people?”
“Yes,” Jim said, and handed her the last of the three slates he’d prepared. He then explained how the process would work. “As you can see, a lot of it is up to the Fae.”
“They’re a lot more than just smart little aliens,” Sansar said. “We’ve known that for a while.”
Jim looked down at a slate in his hand to cover up the strained expression on his face. He wanted to tell her so badly, and she looked as if she expected to hear more. These three were his compatriots—the Horsemen were risking more than any of the Humans, and they were humanity’s best hope. Maybe he could tell them? No, was the silent answer in his head, the risk of it backfiring was just too high. Soon enough, after Earth was liberated, they would have that discussion.
Sansar watched him for a second then made a little sound in her throat before taking up her slate again. She keyed in a message, waited a second, then nodded. “Okay,” she said, “they’re yours for as long as you need them.”
“Thanks, Sansar,” he said.
“Do you mind if I attend this ritual?”
“It’s not really a ritual,” Jim explained.
“Sounds like one to me,” she said. “Either way, would it be okay for me to be there?”
“Of course,” he said, although he didn’t really mean it. The Fae might not appreciate it. Still, neither Sly, Splunk, nor Dante had said she couldn’t be there.
“Good,” she said. “I look forward to it.”
Once Jim left, he considered her attending and decided it was only fair that the others come as well. He took his slate and sent a message to Alexis and Nigel, inviting them. Both responded almost immediately they would. The die is cast, he thought, and headed for his own quarters. He needed a little time to put together how this was going to proceed, and he had a special shuttle flight from Upsilon 4 to arrange. Then a reminder came in from Hargrave.
“Don’t forget your trip to the doc, Boss.”
“Shit,” he said and changed his destination.
* * *
“Colonel Cartwright,” the distinguished-looking older man said, “I was told you’d be stopping by.” On his Hussars uniform was a nametape declaring him to be Dr. G. Ramirez.
“I’m here under protest,” Jim admitted.
“Typical of you CASPer driver types,” Ramirez said with a chuckle. He gave Jim a quick up and down. “I must admit, though; you don’t look like the typical type.”
“Yeah, life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to,” Jim said.
Ramirez led Jim from the reception area into an examination room. “Please understand these are necessary questions,” Ramirez said. Jim nodded for him to proceed. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” Jim said.
“Height and weight?”
“One hundred ninety centimeters, around 160 kilos.”
Ramirez nodded, blinked, and Jim noticed he had pinplants like all the other Winged Hussars and Golden Horde he’d seen. He resolved to move for his Cavaliers to reach 100%, as well.
“Your obesity has held over from childhood?” Ramirez asked.
“Yeah, I was a fat kid, too.”
“Based on images I have, you’ve lost a fair amount of weight.”
“Around 20 kilos,” Jim said.
“That’s a good start,” Ramirez said, and Jim shrugged. “Can you sit here on this table while I get some equipment?” Jim did as he was asked, and a pair of medical assistants joined Dr. Ramirez.
“You know the details of why I’m here?” Jim asked.
“Yes,” Ramirez answered. “Your XO sent me a file with all the data obtained through the medical intervention on Talus.” He looked at a slate one of the assistants handed him and gave a tut-tut
sound. “That is supposed to be an advanced colony; you’d think they’d possess better equipment.”
“I think they’re suffering from their previous form of government,” Jim said.
“Perhaps,” Ramirez said.
An assistant moved over what appeared to be a medical scanner, though it was half the size of any other model he’d seen, even back in Houston on Earth.
“That’s an impressive machine,” Jim said.
“The scanner? Yeah, it’s a design by Sato. We make a lot of our own equipment internally. Colonel Cromwell prefers the Hussars to be as self-sufficient as possible.”
Jim watched as the medical staff set up the scanner and activated it. It projected an image of his chest, constructed from a combination of positron emissions and magnetic resonance. The scanner’s wand continued to sweep back and forth in front of him as the doctor examined its display.
“I see the little bugger,” Ramirez said, then manipulated the display while leaning closer. “Fascinating,” he added, then pressed a control before looking off into nowhere. After another moment, he closed his eyes as he manipulated the data and images. “The report said this foreign body was non-responsive to nano-therapy?”
“Foreign body?” Jim wondered.
“The dart lodged in your aortic arch just before the brachiocephalic trunk.”
“Oh, that,” Jim said, only understanding the aorta part. He had a dozen petabytes of data in his pinplants, though none of it was the kind of biology he’d need to understand the doctor. “Yeah, they tried three times. It controlled the bleeding, of course, but never managed to melt the dart.”
“Fascinating,” Ramirez said, then opened his eyes and directed the assistants to do something. “You shouldn’t be walking around, you know. If that dart comes unstuck, you would bleed out in a minute or two.”
Jim shrugged. “That’s what they said.”
“You might not be a typical specimen of a CASPer driver physically, but you certainly are mentally,” Ramirez said.
“Thanks, I think,” Jim said.
“It was a compliment, considering your profession. Colonel, I could remove it in surgery, but it would require an extremely invasive thoracic procedure. You’d be down for at least a week, maybe more.”
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