I chewed on my lower lip, trying to let go of my anger, hoping that my face wasn’t as red as I knew it probably was. The Captain had watched the whole exchange with a bemused smile, using Major Alaoui’s attack and my reaction to further justify her disdain for me.
“Engineer Holloman, I’ve not asked you for a report, or for a contrarian analysis. I don’t mind you wasting your own time on this, just don’t waste mine. You are not to spend any normal duty hours even thinking about it. Do I make myself clear?” Her voice was soft and almost gentle, but there was no mistaking that it was an order that I was not to ignore or disobey.
“Yes, ma’am,” I lied.
“I look forward to reviewing your results. Not that it will matter at this point when we’re so near our objective. There wouldn’t be enough time to train against a different attack profile anyway. Still, an interesting academic exercise.”
I turned to Winona, my mouth open. I knew she could feel the shock in me, but she was continuing the doodles on the side of her glass.
Doctor Deri tapped my hand to get my attention and my mouth snapped shut. “Lieutenant Holloman, I want to thank you for tonight’s meal. This cassoulet reminds me of the cholent I grew up eating every Saturday. Happy memories.” He stabbed a last bit of sausage and an onion and put them in his mouth. “This has a little more garlic, I think, but it’s really excellent.”
I smiled at him and Winn gave me a slight nod, finally willing to look away from her glass.
“You’re right, Doctor,” Captain Rostron added. “Too much garlic and it should have been left to simmer longer.” I glanced at her empty bowl. She had sopped up the last of the broth with a slice of bread. “Next time add a few more tomatoes as well.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Storm answered for me, taking the blame. “I am glad you enjoyed it. Would you care for a third serving? There’s plenty left.”
“No, Storm, but I think we can indulge in a small cognac for each of us to end the meal.”
“I’ll get them.” Kal stood, thankful for an opportunity to be away from the table if only for a moment.
A small cognac sounded wonderful. A large one would have been better. It had been over a month since I’d had any alcohol. I had thought I was over the craving, but I’d just been too busy to even think about it. It would be so nice to have a glass of something. It was almost a surprise when I realized that I wanted to get drunk, to feel the drink burn its way down my throat and back up into my brain. I wanted to forget that there was even a possibility of there being a tomorrow, or a next week when the girl in the Redoubt and everyone she knew would be dead. With my mass it wouldn’t take long for the drink to do its work; it never did.
Kal came back to the table with five glasses and distributed them around. I didn’t get one.
“Kal?” I asked. “Did you forget me?” I also glanced at Winn, assuming she had set me up, but she looked surprised too.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Storm said you can’t have one.”
“Excuse me?”
“It is a standing order,” Storm apologized, “for one in your condition.”
I closed my eyes and tried hard to remember to breathe. “Oh, damn it.” I opened them and looked down at my stomach, poking it gently with one finger. At least Marcus had been wrong about me starting to show after the first hour.
“I monitor everyone,” Storm continued. “Every time you use the toilet I make sure you are healthy. You, mon amour, are very healthy. And also very pregnant. About two weeks since conception, I would guess, so a little cognac at this stage would do no harm if the Captain would approve of it.”
The Captain didn’t look like she was in an approving kind of mood. “Engineer, the documentation I have on you says your fertility was reversed. Is that a lie?”
I looked up at her, feeling miserable almost all the way through. There was a part of me though, deep inside, humming, and about as happy as a person can ever be. “No, ma’am. It’s the truth. My fertility was reversed ten years ago, and Sam’s has been since he was fourteen.”
“I know for a fact that Marines from the Esprit Vengeur picked Mr. Coleridge up less than an hour after your ‘wedding’. I was told that the recovery team was there waiting for him at your house.”
“Also true. But we were alone in the car on the way there.”
Major Alaoui started laughing. “Seize the moment, because you never know what tomorrow might bring, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I smiled, felling slightly less miserable, that moment that we’d seized clear and sharp in my mind again. I shivered and felt a questioning touch from Sam.
“Lieutenant, what you’re saying, I’m sorry, but it can’t be true.” Doctor Deri looked like he needed the cognac that was still sitting untouched in front of him. “The fertility reversal process is foolproof, and if you’re really pregnant, then both yours and your husband’s must have failed. That’s just not possible.”
“The Academy confirmed my block every year I was there. I’m sure Sam’s records would show the same thing.”
He sighed. “I want to examine you. This is unique; it’s never happened.”
“Yes it has,” I assured him. “I was conceived while my parents’ fertility was reversed.” I regretted saying it immediately.
“A mutation that was passed on to you? No, that wouldn’t explain Sam. Something else then, something intentional.”
I looked at Winona, feeling desperate. Another few minutes and I’d probably be telling him about the Tarakana and my role in whatever Merrimac was doing.
“Captain Rostron, I don’t believe Lieutenant Holloman can be held responsible for being on board with a baby inside her. She complied with all applicable RuComm and Union requirements for preventing pregnancy. It’s not her fault that…that…”
The Captain was shaking her head. “Let it rest, Winona. I don’t understand it, and I can’t say I’m happy about it, but now my engineer is pregnant. Congratulations, Lieutenant. Kal, run and fetch a glass for her. I was a little slow on the uptake, but I’m starting to understand that this tour is going to be something very special.”
My glass arrived and the Captain raised hers in a toast. “God help us.”
CHAPTER 8
STAYING SANE
Winona and Kal walked back to the Sim Lab with me after dinner, Winn trying to reassure me that everything was going to be OK. I wasn’t listening to her because I was trying to get Sam to understand what was happening and why my emotions were swirling and jumping everywhere. I think I just confused him. Feeling emotions is wonderful, but it’s not language.
I stopped outside the lab, hesitating. “Why even bother, Winn? I know you just set this up to keep me busy and so I wouldn’t cause a fuss about the coming murders.”
“That’s not true. And stop calling them murders. Damn it, Duse, don’t think about war that way. Kal and Major Alaoui are not butchers.” She grabbed Kal’s hand and held it up in front of my face. “Look at this hand. Look at the man. He’s a good man, Mala Dusa, the best I’ve ever met. Don’t you dare make him out as a mindless killer.”
I reached up and touched his cheek and he smiled at me, a sweet look, embarrassed, and so in love with Winona. “I know he’s a good man.” I sighed, feeling a desperate anger building in me. “But there are men and women inside Costrano’s Redoubt that believe they are good people doing the right thing too. Patriotic, gentle and kind to each other, wanting the fighting to end so they can go back to just living their lives. In less than a week, we’re going to kill them. All of them. And we’ll lose some of our good men and women in the fight. I’m going to do my job and make it possible, and that makes me a butcher too.”
Winona frowned, losing patience. “That’s what war is always like. Captain Rostron is right about you.”
“Don’t you mean Marguerite?”
“That’s not fair and you know it
. You’ve got to move past the anger you’re feeling. It makes no sense.”
“What are you feeling in me, Winona? Anger? Yes, you’re right about that. Fear? It’s almost overwhelming, because I’m so desperate to stop this. I feel trapped. You’re inside my head with me so you know exactly what’s in there, but what are you feeling?” I tapped her forehead and she took a step back from me. “What are you hiding in there? You block me all the time now. Wise Winona, who sees everything and remembers everything. What are you feeling about what we’re about to do? Remorse, maybe? Please tell me that you at least feel that. Or is this all about doing your duty, making the perfect plan, and feeling proud about what you’ve made possible? Please, can you please be my wise Winona again?” I knew I was pushing her too hard, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Her eyes went cold. “The truth? OK, yes, I started you on these sims to keep you busy for the rest of the week. There’s a small chance that I may have missed something, but I doubt it. I knew you’d just keep banging away at it right up until we latch down to the Redoubt and launch our drones.”
“Damn you.”
“I also knew that there was no way that I could ever convince you that the only path to surviving this is to completely destroy the Redoubt and everyone and everything in it. The only way to shove that reality into your stupid head is by letting you run sim after sim until you prove it to yourself. We’re going to kill that girl, Mala Dusa. We have to.”
I don’t know how long I stood in the passageway staring at her, wondering what had happened. Finally, I bit my lip and nodded to myself. I took off my watch and held the small plastic sleeve that was under it up to my eyes. “You gave me this lock of your hair when we were sixteen, the night before I left for Bodens Gate. You said it held a part of everything you know and everything you are; a piece of your wisdom to help me when I need it.” I threw it at her and she let it bounce off her chest and land on the deck. “I think you need it now more than I do.”
I turned my back to her, slammed my hand against the keypad and walked into the Sim Lab. I collapsed into a ball after I heard the door slide shut behind me and cried long sobs, like I’d never be able to stop.
I wiped my eyes and nose on the sleeve of my uniform after I was all cried out. “All right, Storm. Help me prove Winona wrong.”
I woke the next morning to a cold wet nose nuzzling my face. I was still in the Sim Lab, head resting on my arms next to the control panel. “Colin! Stop. I’m awake.”
Kal sat in the chair next to me. “He always gets me out of bed that way. I’ve gotten used to it, but Winn still screams every morning.” He glanced over his shoulder at the sim tank. “Any luck last night?”
I nodded, wiping my check. “I hit sixty percent odds of survival around 02:00. After that, every change just made it worse. I gave up around 04:00.” I glanced at my watch. “A couple of hours ago.”
“Sixty’s not bad for less than a day’s work. Winn said it took her three days to crack seventy-five.”
I frowned, not wanting to think about Winona. “I’m sorry you had to see that last night. I’ve, um, I’ve never had an argument with Winona before, not like that.”
“She said the same thing. She talked about you most of the night, between the tears. Winona’s kind of amazing, you know? She remembers every detail of everything the two of you have ever done together.” He yawned. “She didn’t sleep much, so I didn’t sleep much.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK. We have a two-hour tactical planning meeting this morning. It’ll give me a chance to doze a bit.” He smiled at me, like a boy planning to skip school.
“I really am sorry. I’ll find Winn this morning and talk to her. There’s no excuse for what I did.”
“Blame it on being pregnant, that’s what my wife always did whenever she melted down.”
“Your…wife?”
“She was killed a year and a half ago on Bridger.”
A flash of horror went through me.
He smiled, but there was sadness in it. “Winona says she always knows what you’re feeling because of the Tarakana. I’d think just looking at your face would be enough most of the time. My wife died running intel to the resistance there. Her ship was destroyed by one of their FACs a month before the battle of Bridger’s Quarter.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. And she was pregnant?”
“No, my son was born three years ago come June. He lives with her parents for now, until I can be home with him.”
“It’s the Tarakana. I had a glimpse once of what they wanted, how they feed on our pain and how they’re working to pull the Union apart. Maybe…”
“Winn hasn’t convinced me yet that those things are real, and I’ve experienced more than enough evil in regular men and women. I don’t think humans need a push from the devil to do the horrors I’ve seen. Stopping it is why we fight. The last time the Union fell apart, Earth let all the planets go. Most worlds descended into anarchy or autocratic dictators seized power, always at war or killing their own people. I grew up on Del Rosa, but I’m sure they showed you the same images on Dulcinea of what life was like before RuComm started putting the pieces back together.”
“They did. I remember thinking that I wouldn’t have let it happen. I would have been brave, killed all the bad guys, and rescued everyone. There was one video with this cute boy in it, maybe thirteen, the same age I was. I really wanted to rescue him. I suppose RuComm put that scene in there intentionally.”
“I’m sure. The one I remember had a pretty girl in it that I thought I needed to save. That doesn’t make it less true, or what you felt less noble. Reunification was good. Whether the Union is being torn apart by the evil within us or the Tarakana, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “We have to fight to save it. I know I do.”
“And here you are.”
“Yes.”
“Fighting.”
“Yes.”
“Can we save the pretty girl?”
“Huh.” He grinned at me, shaking his head. “After last night I think I understand why Winona loves you so much. You’re not very strong, and you seem so frail, but damn if you’re not the most tenacious…woman ever born.”
“Thanks. You can call me a bitch if you want to; after last night, I deserve it. I think I just had an idea while we were talking. I need to reset the sim and–”
“No, you don’t. Winn’s waiting at breakfast for us and you’re on duty in less than an hour. You heard the Captain last night and you know Storm will tell on you.”
I looked up at the ceiling. “Storm, would you do that to me?”
“I am sorry, ma puce. I am under orders, same as you.”
I frowned at the ceiling for a moment longer. “I really need to learn French. I think she’s insulting me, but it’s hard to tell.” I looked back to Kal. “I want to take a shower and change first. Maybe brush my teeth.”
“Nope. Winn needs to see you just as you are. Believe me, the two of you are a perfect match, right down to the red eyes.”
He was right about her. She’d been crying, hair all mussed up, and there were creases between her eyes again. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I held her close to me, not caring what people were saying around us.
When I forced myself to release her, I whispered, “Winn, I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive. I was cruel to you and I beg you to forgive me.”
“I will if you will.”
“Done.”
“Winn? I, um, I could really use some of your wisdom, if you have some you could share with me.”
She turned away, miserable to the point of tears. “I burned it.”
I gasped. “No, please tell me you didn’t.”
“You made me so mad, and I did it before Kal could stop me, before he even understood what it was.”
“You’ll have to make do with this.” She placed a small plastic sleeve on the table in front of me. “I cut it just this morning, so maybe it has a bit more wisdom than the last one. I was hoping you’d accept it.”
I held it up and let the light reflect off the small dark strands. “One of these is gray.”
“It’s your fault if it is.”
“It’s perfect.” I took off my watch and slid it under the band. “I feel wiser already. Do I look wiser?”
“You look like you always do when you don’t sleep. You look like crap.”
“Wise crap?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Thanks. I’ll go get us some coffee while you pick up waffles. Kal, what can I get for you?”
“Coffee. Just lots of coffee. You two wear me out.”
“What’s not working today, Storm?” I was sitting at my desk, hair still damp from the shower, and trying to ignore the soft pillow calling to me from my bunk.
“I have no errors or anomalies to report.”
“Really? That’s…extraordinary. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you. Perhaps we have time for another recipe?”
“OK. Let’s do chilaquiles. I’m still craving them.”
“It is your baby that craves them. I’ve heard of such things.”
“Maybe.” I patted my stomach. “I think he’s going to be a stubborn, willful child.”
“Ah, comme vous. How do you know that it is a boy?”
I shrugged. “I just know. Are you ready? We’re going to need corn tortillas, green chilies, butter, eggs…”
I imagined myself in the kitchen with my dad, Mom still asleep, the house full of early morning chill from the high desert night. I’d stand close by the stove to keep warm while he fixed chilaquiles and talked to me about geology and cooking, and sometimes about my real mom. By the time I was done reciting the recipe to Storm, I could almost smell green chilies simmering and the feel of Dad’s arms around me, thanking me for helping him make breakfast.
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