“Uh, I don’t know what you’re thinking…”
“Come, come,” Nigel said, gently detaching her hand from the bulkhead and guiding her to one of the chairs. “I was only thinking we should have dinner. Besides, tomorrow is a big day, and your staff said you hadn’t eaten yet. You need your nourishment.”
Nigel smiled. From the look on her face, her investigation to find the person who had talked to his staff when she returned to Pegasus would make the Inquisition look gentle. The staff member was in deep trouble. Ah well, such is life.
“I don’t have time for this,” she said, pausing at the chair.
“Of course you do. Everyone needs to eat, even battle-hardened fleet commanders.” He grinned at her as he locked the magnets on his boots to the deck for leverage, then placed his hands on her shoulders to guide her down into the seat. He found her shoulders to be well muscled and, after a moment, she acquiesced and sat. Her own shoes gave a little click as they attached to the deck.
“I apologize,” he said, taking his seat. “This would be easier if we had gravity, but the person driving the bus has kept us in zero gravity. Still,” he added, gesturing to the spread, “this turned out pretty well.”
Her gaze swept the table, and he could see her eyes widen in appreciation of the effort that had gone into the dinner. There were a number of dishes in plastic bags, clipped to the table to keep them in place. Silverware and various drinks were held in brackets, everything from water to the last bottle of wine he had aboard. He would owe his stewards some extra time off when they hit port again. A lot of time off.
“What is the meaning of this?” she asked.
Although Nigel heard anger in her voice—he had seen it was her only method of dealing with a feeling of lack of control—there was also amazement in it, and he wondered how long it had been since someone had taken her to dinner. As little as he knew she allowed herself time to relax, he suspected that period would best be measured in decades.
“Even those of us who have made hatred into their life’s work must still find time to let it go. Without love, after all, how does one measure hate?”
Her jaw dropped open as she tried to process that. All she’d ever seen of him—all anyone had ever seen of him—was the outward façade of the alien killer he allowed them to see. Nothing had changed—he still hated most aliens, especially the MinSha, who he intended to utterly destroy—but something inside of him changed when he was around Alexis. He found he was able to love again. Not like what he’d had with some of the bimbos in college, either; it was something deeper, something like what he’d seen between his grandfather and grandmother, sitting on the porch of their hacienda in the countryside away from Houston. He’d wanted the same kind of relationship when he’d been a child, but he’d forgotten about it in his quest to rid the galaxy of the MinSha.
It had returned recently with his near-constant exposure to Alexis.
He wanted it; no, he needed it. It was the only way he could ever be whole again. Sure, she was hard. She had to be to manage her empire among the stars. But he had guessed there was also a softer side, which she had bottled up a long time ago…kind of like he had. It would be difficult to get it out of her…but what worthwhile reward came without hard work?
He smiled. “There are some coordination issues I wanted to go over with you for tomorrow’s attack,” he said, putting her back into a realm where she was more comfortable. “I thought we might discuss the plan one more time over dinner.”
“Oh…okay.” She stammered slightly from the mental whiplash at the change of direction the conversation had taken as her brain struggled to process everything he’d presented. He watched, smiling, as she shook her head and regained control of herself. The little girl he’d momentarily glimpsed inside her was gone, subsumed into the hardcore mercenary commander, but it was too late. He’d seen that it existed. “What did you need to discuss?” she asked.
“I wanted to talk about how the fleet was going to support the actual attack, once the highguard is defeated,” he replied, handing her one of the bags clipped to the table. “Try this,” he added. “It’s wazwani jheenga—char-grilled spicy king prawns—a local Kashmiri delicacy. I think you’ll like it.”
“How…how did you get this?”
“We brought some with us when we left Earth,” Nigel replied. “Sadly, though, that is the last of it.” He shrugged and gave her a half-smile. “Still, it is better to have it now, than to have a stray laser bolt go through the ship’s mess tomorrow and destroy it untasted, isn’t it?”
With that, he turned the conversation back to safe topics like the upcoming battle and her plans for the Hussars, while sharing the best of his home country’s food with her. She was, as he expected, a delightful dinner companion. The highlight of the night was her using a plate to represent the shipyard, and a bunch of shrimp tails as starships, all floating over the table. That little girl smile was there, occasionally, framed in a beautiful face surrounded by hair as pure white as hyperspace. All too soon, it was over, and he was guiding her back to her ship.
They reached the bow and found the passageway to Pegasus unmanned. “Where is your duty officer?” Alexis asked. Her voice sounded wary again.
“I commed ahead,” Nigel replied. “I suggested he take a break for a few minutes. I thought you would be more comfortable if he were not around to hear me thank you for a wonderful first date.”
“First…first date?” she sputtered. “That wasn’t—”
“You can call it what you like,” Nigel replied, giving her his best grin. “If calling it a staff meeting puts you more at ease, please do so. However…” he let his voice trail off.
“What?” she asked after a moment.
“However, it had to be a date.” The grin widened to his best rogue’s smile. “I remember; there were candles.” He knew he had won—the blush that rose from her collar to sweep across her face gave her away.
“Nigel, you’re cute and all...” He lifted an eyebrow as she struggled to talk. “But I’m almost old enough to be your mother.”
“Then we are in agreement,” Nigel said, making Alexis’ mouth fall open slightly, “for I have always liked older women. I will see you tomorrow after the battle.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, but he put a finger over her lips to silence her.
“Hush,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “That is all that needs to be said for today. Neither of us will fall tomorrow. We both have too much to live for.” Her head turned suddenly, bringing their lips together. Tentative at first, then with a passion that shocked him.
She pulled back after a moment, looking stunned both at what he’d done, and what she’d done in reply. “Your crew is expecting you back,” he added, locking his boots to the deck. He gently turned her to face her ship and gave her a gentle push that carried her down the connecting tube in the zero gravity. “Off you go.”
* * *
EMS Pegasus, Hyperspace, en route to Golara
Stupid woman, she chastised herself repeatedly as she floated down deck after deck, taking the turns in each companionway with savage strength. Crewmembers who saw her gave way without thought. Commander Alexis Cromwell was best avoided when angry, and, at the moment, she appeared to be in a grand rage.
She went to her quarters, not trusting herself to go to her wardroom because she’d have to go through the CIC first.
“Shut up.” Silence for a moment.
“Don’t you have a calculation to make or something?”
“You are a machine,” she replied. “Your curiosity makes me uncomfortable.” She reached her quarters without any more comments. She really wanted to slam the door, but it was a standard sliding light-duty air-t
ight door, like on every officer’s stateroom aboard Pegasus.
“Damn him,” she said over and over. “Why did I have to kiss him? That will only encourage the Arab pervert!” She flipped into her chair and sighed. Sometimes she hated her job. One of the storied Four Horsemen of Earth. Maybe the strongest, probably the richest. More, only the Winged Hussars still had their home. She needed to stay the course. Nigel’s eyes sparkled in her mind’s eye, as did that little smile of his. “Fuck.”
Ghost was right; he wasn’t the first man to excite her. There’d been others. Six, to be precise. None of them from within her ranks. “Don’t court within the Hussars if you don’t plan to marry.” Her mothers’ words came to her unbidden. Marrying had never entered her sphere of interest. Now, at more than 40, she hadn’t thought it ever would.
Those six occasions for love…well, sex anyway. Always one-night stands, never in New Warsaw, and never anywhere she’d be recognized. Alexis had gone as far as using nanites to change her hair color temporarily. Minus the white hair, the jet-black Winged Hussars uniform, and the colonel’s wings, she was just another beautiful woman.
The men were always average guys she’d meet at a bar. Once, the last time, she’d spotted a man at a merc guild social, found out who he was, found him, and seduced him at his favorite drinking hole. He was nice, fun, and very grateful. She’d considered seeing him again, for a moment. But the next morning he looked at her with the possible twinkle of recognition. She slipped out while he was in the shower and never returned. That was nine years ago, and Ghost was just as curious then as now.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” she asked herself. They were less than 24 hours from arriving in the Golara system. She admitted to herself she didn’t know what to do, so she went back to work completing her preparations. The wazwani jheenga had been very tasty.
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
Maki Frigate Crisp Breeze, Highguard, Golara System
Being a sensor tech in the Golara System was just about the most boring job in the galaxy, thought Maki sensor tech Gseeh on the frigate Crisp Breeze. The FOB set up in the system was well situated, and it seemed like the Mercenary Guild had hired half the space navy units in the galaxy. Credits were flowing like a waterfall. The joke was, if General Peepo took a shit, it would come out red diamonds.
Up until a few days ago, sensor sweeps took some work. There’d been hundreds of ships in the system, with bunches of them arriving and leaving every day. Then several fleets formed up, seven of them, and filed through the stargate in one huge operation. Gseeh and the other sensor techs remaining in highguard watched in amazement. No one had seen a fleet that big in their lives.
“The Humans are done,” another tech from Whispering Fern had transmitted. Gseeh had agreed; it was a decisive move.
The fleets were gone now, though, and boredom had set in.
Gseeh was an hour from the end of his shift and was already thinking about some warm grubs and maybe a Tri-V comedy when he got a deep space relay signal. He tapped the telemetry control, and examined the data.
“A battleship?” he wondered aloud. The size of the reading was about right; the energy was strange. Plus, there weren’t any battleships in the system. Two were under construction in the shipyard as robots busily labored to complete them. What was this signal?
“Whispering Fern,” he called to his fellow sensor tech. “What are you reading on monitor V93?”
“V93?” the distant tech asked. “Checking.” The line was quiet for a time. “Looks like a battleship?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m reading. It’s about to go into orbit around Golara 3. I went back in the sensor logs for a week; there is nothing that’s come into the system nearly that size, especially nothing that’s expected at Golara 3. Entropy, what could it be?”
“I don’t know, Crisp Breeze. You going to report it to fleet system command?”
“Yeah,” Gseeh said. He looked at the chronometer; 50 minutes until the change of watch. Why does everything happen to me? He looked across the CIC to where the officer of the watch floated, his tail curled around the command center. With a sigh, he got the officer’s attention.
* * *
EMS Pegasus, Golara System
“Looks like the Maki are being more thorough than usual,” Paka said after Flipper, Pegasus’ chief of sensor ops, informed her of the activity.
“Report?” Alexis ordered.
“We’re picking up signals from a pair of active seeker drones headed toward Golara 3. Flipper thinks the Maki highguard might have spotted us dropping behind the planet.” She gave a very Human shrug. “I would tend to agree.”
“More alert,” Xander, the TacCom—tactical commander—said, “but just as overly cautious. They should have sent an escort frigate, or at least a cutter heavy on sensors.”
“Sloppy,” Glick, the SitCon—situational controller—agreed. The Bakulu’s job was to sit astride the CIC and manage the flow of operations, freeing up the XO and captain to fight the ship.
“Orders, Commander?” Paka asked.
“What’s Revenge’s status?”
“Colonel Shirazi reports they’re ready,” Paka said. Alexis nodded and checked the clock. They would have only needed three more hours.
“Do our sensor drones have a complete picture of the system?”
“Affirmative,” Glick confirmed.
“That only makes sense,” she agreed. She looked over to see Paka watching patiently, the XO recognizing the detached look on her commander’s face. “Tell Colonel Shirazi we’re going ahead of schedule.”
* * *
System Control, Golara System
“We’re getting data from the drones sent by Crisp Breeze.” The Maki commodore looked up at the announcement. Located a kilometer from the vast shipyards, the control center was a big cross, with a sphere on the end of each arm. The entire station rotated on its center, where it was attached to a cylindrical docking/warehouse facility.
Never intended as a tactical control, the facility had originally served as construction headquarters and shops for the assembly of components requiring gravity. It also now housed quite a few of the system’s garrison troops.
“What is the report?”
A Tri-V in the control center came alive. In the middle was Golara 3, a gas giant which barely deserved the term “giant.” The view moved quickly, taken from a drone, and it showed a fleeting view of a ship before a flash of light, and the view disappeared.
“Replay, enhance,” the commodore ordered. The image reappeared and was manipulated until the unmistakable view of Pegasus, the flagship of the Winged Hussars, was visible. “That isn’t possible,” he said with a hiss. “By the flames of eternity, that isn’t possible!”
“Confirmed,” the TacCom said. “That is the EMS Pegasus.”
“How is it here?” the commodore demanded. Nobody replied. “I want answers.”
“The ship is under power,” the sensor tech said. “It is en route to the shipyard.”
“Dispatch the fleet,” the commodore ordered.
“Commodore, most of the fleet isn’t manned,” the TacCom reminded.
“Then send what is manned!” he screeched and threw a slate at the TacCom. “Do you know how many Maki have been murdered by that ship? No? Thousands. Dispatch the fleet, now!” The shipyard display showed ships beginning to move. “Recall the rest of the crews, too. I don’t trust these Winged Hussars.”
* * *
EMS Pegasus, Golara System
“They bit,” Glick said, turning from Flipper’s sensor station to give the captain a pseudopod ‘thumbs’ up. “Their fleet is mobilizing.”
“In a half-assed manner,” Alexis said, looking at the Tri-V. Flipper had identified 61 enemy ships, but only 14 were und
er power. “Why does Peepo keep using these Maki idiots?”
“Don’t let Commander Yoshuka hear you say that,” Paka said. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”
“He doesn’t have feelings; that’s why he’s the Hussars’ third in command.”
Paka grinned at her commander, who turned to Flipper. “How long before the ships responding are committed?” Alexis asked.
“I’d say five minutes.” the Selroth sensor tech informed her. The aquatic humanoid was wearing his water-filled helmet to make combat operations more efficient. Alexis nodded and watched the clock. When five minutes had passed, she took a deep breath and spoke.
“Orders to Shadowfax, Hippogriff, and Manticore; detach. Here we go.”
“Acknowledged, Commander,” Captain Elizabeth Stacy said from Shadowfax.
“Roger that, Commander,” Captain Donald Thibodeau said from Manticore.
“Acknowledged, Commander,” Captain Dan Corder said from Hippogriff.
Pegasus shuddered three times in rapid succession as the ships released their electro-mechanical grasp on Pegasus. All three ships gently fired their maneuvering thrusters and drifted away from the ship that had carried them from New Warsaw.
“Kick their asses,” Alexis said.
“Plan, prepare, strike!” all three ships’ captains chorused. Alexis’ lips skinned back from her perfect teeth.
“Helm,” she said, and Chug looked back at her with one of his three eyestalks. “Three gravities toward the incoming ships. TacCom, coordinate with the squadron and prepare for combat.”
* * *
System Control, Golara System
“Commodore,” the sensor operator exclaimed, “the ship has split into 4 parts.”
“That explains why Crisp Breeze thought it was a battleship,” TacCom said.
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