There were Ethernet outlets throughout the apartment. She plugged in the laptop, got a lightning fast connection, and settled down to the consuming task of online shopping. She ordered a few items of clothing to fill in some gaps, then spent a couple of hours choosing a guitar. She was careful about return policies since she knew it might take a few tries to get the perfect fit, feel, and sound. It was lovely to learn that Marshall amps existed in this world. She knew a half stack was an extravagance and that she would blast the floor away if she ever turned it up, but Storm said to get what she wanted. So she did.
Last she ordered an extra large face collar, a six foot, braided leather leash, and a tranq pistol with preloaded darts to be shipped separately and specified overnight shipping for everything.
B Team had assembled in Sovereign Sol Nemamiah’s office for the purpose of discussing their reentry into regular duty rotation. All three had dreaded the meeting. No one wanted to replace Lan. Just talking about it felt like a betrayal of friendship, camaraderie, and shared history. But a patrol team is four members, not three.
Breaking in a new team member is a lot like marriage. There are personality quirks that have to be negotiated to everybody’s satisfaction. Which takes time. And then there’s the trust issue. It’s one thing to talk about having somebody’s back, but security in that belief has to be earned. Which takes time and experience. Confirmation of honor and courage is a field experiment with a lifetime price tag. Literally. There’s just no way around the added stress the entire team suffers from the uncertainty of not knowing for sure how the new member will perform in a moment of truth.
Ram slouched on one end of a leather couch twirling a paperclip he’d lifted from Sol’s desk, looking surly and rebellious. Kay sat at the other end with an ankle crossed over his knee. Storm was feeling too restless to sit in either of the two remaining chairs so he leaned his back against the wall facing Sol’s desk.
“You know I don’t like this either,” Sol began, “but it’s on the top of the has-to-be-done file.” Who could argue with that? Storm and Kay studied the high grade, commercial carpet. Ram turned his head to look out the window. “I’ve got a short list, but of course the three of you have final say about your fourth.”
After a few beats Storm crossed his arms and jerked his chin toward the paper sitting on Sol’s desk. “Who are you thinking?”
“First is Ghost, naturally.” Ram huffed and rolled his eyes. Sol pinned him with a look and continued. “Finnemore. Sanction. Blytheson.”
The only sound in the room was a big sigh from Kay. Storm continued to study the carpet. Ram looked at Sol like he wanted to kill him. Like Lan’s death was Sol’s fault. He knew it was immature, but, once Lan was replaced, he would really have to face the truth that Lan was gone and not coming back.
Finally Storm looked up. “Let us have a day to mull it over. Sleep on it maybe.”
“Sure,” Sol said, maybe even more relieved than the rest of them to end the meeting. “Same time tomorrow.”
The rejuvenating effects of three months off duty had been swept away in a fifteen minute meeting and the loss had slammed home again in full force. The remnants of B Team emerged from the Sovereign’s office looking despondent and battle weary.
Ram started toward the elevator. Storm said, “Where you going Ram? We’ve got to talk about this.”
Ram pushed the button for up and turned back. “I’m thinkin’ we can talk just as easily with two tablespoonfuls of fine Irish Whiskey poured over ice.”
They made their way to the lounge in silence. It was early in the day to be drinking, but it was a drinking sort of occasion. They had no trouble finding empty chairs in a corner where they could talk without being overheard. It was cool enough for the gas fire to be lit. They commandeered big, plump chairs then, one by one, looked out at the gloomy day thinking, perhaps subconsciously, that overcast was the correct backlighting for the mood.
After several minutes Storm said, “Okay. Let’s come up with ground rules. I say that, if all three of us say no to somebody on the list, we draw a line through his name.” Kay and Ram both nodded and murmured sounds of agreement. “Finnemore. Yes or no.”
“Finnemore is a wanker.” Ram is nothing if not colorful and succinct. If asked, he would affirm it’s a gift.
Storm leveled a warning look at Ram and said evenly, like he was marshalling patience with an adolescent. “Yes or no.”
Ram raised his eyebrows at Storm as if to say, “That’s as far as I would go with the attitude.” He articulated every syllable of his reply with deliberate punctuation. “That. Would. Be. A. No.”
Kay glanced at Ram and nodded, “I agree. It’s a no. But, look. Sol’s right. This is no fun for any of us. Also, it’s time somebody said it out loud. Lan’s death was nobody’s fault. Not his. Not ours. We all wish there was somebody to blame so that we could..., but there isn’t. Let’s put a lid on the tempers and move on.”
Storm looked at Kay for a moment and then said, “Unanimous. Finnemore is out. That leaves three.”
They spent the next two hours wrangling pros and cons on three other names. In the end the only possibility left was Ghost who also was considered, theoretically, to be next in line for the job.
Gauthier Nibelung, a.k.a. Ghost, was thirty, old for a field active Black Swan knight. He was a hard core warrior with a reputation for getting it done. He also happened to be albino. Hence the nickname, Ghost. He had served Black Swan with passion and had excelled at every task.
Ram didn’t like him, but couldn’t, in good conscience, let that be a reason to blackball him if that was the only issue. Of the four on the list, he was the least objectionable. Not a rousing endorsement, but there was only one Lan. And he wasn’t coming back.
Storm suggested they take the night to think it over individually and meet at Storm’s place the next morning to be sure they were in agreement before the meeting with Sol.
Ram said something about wanting a workout before dinner and the other two thought that sounded like a plan. So they officially adjourned to the gym.
While changing into workout clothes, Storm decided to ring up Elora. She had the phone sitting next to her laptop and answered on the first ring.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m going for a workout. The athletic center wasn’t on yesterday’s tour route, but you might want to see it. We call it The Dungeon because it’s on the lowest sublevel and because it frequently feels like torture. Want to go along?”
“Sure. I just need to change into something I can work out in.”
“Whoa. Hold on. I wasn’t suggesting you actually work out. You’re not really ready for that yet, are you?”
She snorted and immediately regretted it. Okay. So now you know. I snort. “I’ll meet you at the hub in five minutes.” She hung up before he could protest further.
She threw together something suitable for work out. Danskins can be flexible in more ways than one. She was fairly dissatisfied with this dimension’s old fashioned sports bras, but whatever. It actually took ten minutes to get to the hub, but Elora thought it couldn’t be all that terrible to keep a gentleman waiting five minutes. He was wearing sweats and a tank top, holding a black and purple gym bag. This was the first time she had seen his bare arms and shoulders and thought he seemed even bigger with more skin exposed. His sculpted body clearly enjoyed the benefits of rigorous, repetitive resistance training. She gave him a wave and held the elevator open.
Storm got on saying, “I still don’t think you’re giving yourself enough time to recover.”
Her answer was a bright smile and an, “SL3. Going down.”
He got on looking resigned and she pushed the button.
The fitness center was huge, taking up most of sublevel three. In addition to treadmills and bikes, there was every sort of exercise machine ever conceived in multiple quantities, an Olympic size swimming pool, basketball court, a large room with a suspended floor for sparring, and a locker room with showers becaus
e it would not be gentlemanly to give offense to fellow passengers on the elevators.
As large as the facilities were, they still posted three categories of hours for usage. One set of hours was for active operatives, – which, in the case of Jefferson Unit, meant knights - one for trainees, and one for all other personnel. That being the case, a woman present during knights’ workout times was unheard of. Storm gave her a tour of the facilities and then asked if she would like to maybe start slow on a bike while he went through his regular routine.
She did feel a little self-conscious being the only woman in a large facility of men trying to pretend they weren’t looking at her. Finally she left the machine galley and wandered down the hall to the room with the suspended floor - which was empty.
She took off her shoes and bounced across the floor with a little giggle. It was freeing to have such a large space all to herself. She had been doing some yoga style stretches for about half an hour when several knights, including Ram, came in talking and laughing. The others stopped abruptly when they saw her, but Ram, also wearing a tank top and sweat pants, continued toward her without breaking stride.
“Hey,” he said. She noted that he was less bulky than a lot of the other guys she had seen in the gym, but his arms, and the part of his chest she could see, were more cut.
“Hey,” she replied in kind. Knowing that the men had come in because they planned to use the room she added, “I was just going.”
“We were just goin’ to spar a little. Stay and watch.”
“Um. Alright. Maybe for a minute.”
The men donned boxing gloves, paired up, and engaged each other in a friendly style of mixed martial arts that was, from Elora’s perspective, woefully primitive. From her point of view the lack of skill was appalling and she couldn’t help thinking that it was no wonder they were losing people. Finally, when she couldn’t stand it any longer, she approached Ram and his partner. They paused to see what on earth might cause a woman to interrupt.
“Might I try this?”
Ram didn’t have a chance to gape for long because everyone within hearing distance began laughing. Elves are hard wired by evolution to want to coddle their mates and please them in every way they can. Saying no wouldn’t be impossible, just uncomfortable. He decided he could control the situation, assuring she wouldn’t be hurt if he insisted on being her partner. He took a moment to congratulate himself on his reasoning skills.
“Sure,” he grinned, “but you must promise to go easy on me.”
He asked his partner to give her his gloves, which turned out not to be all that big on her. Then she asked him to spell out the rules and the goal of the exercise. Naturally, everybody in the room gathered round to watch. The idea of a woman sparring with a Black Swan knight was on the far, far side of ludicrous.
Apparently the general goal was development of speed, flexibility, and reaction time. The only rules were no biting and no shots to the groin. He stressed the latter with some reference to “the boys”. Easy. Simple.
Ram and Elora began to circle each other. The first clue that this was not going to go as expected was when Elora shifted effortlessly and lightning quick into the stance and demeanor of a fighter. Whenever Ram stopped, or thought about changing position, even for a split second, Elora angled her body away, making herself the smallest possible target, keeping her defensive side to the front. She also wore on her face the single-minded concentration of someone accustomed to facing experienced opponents. For Ram, it was confusing as hell.
Storm had missed Elora and gone looking for her to make sure she wasn’t overdoing. When he and Kay walked in and saw the match underway, Storm let out a string of curses that had Kay raising an eyebrow. Fortunately he kept his treatise on Ram’s recklessness, immaturity, and stupidity to sub-distraction volume.
Ram thought he might give Elora a little tap on the outer bicep, not enough to hurt, but enough to scare her into calling it a day. He feinted left and charged right. In response she waited until the last millisecond, took a quick step to her right and then used his own forward momentum to catch him around the mid section and turn him end over end so that he slammed down on the mat on his back.
He hit so hard the breath was knocked out of him. There are few things that inspire panic as quickly as not being able to breathe. Elora watched in horror as Ram’s shocked face went through changes of color from pink to red to purple before his lungs were finally granted a reprieve.
A moment after he resumed breathing his brain registered that there was more wrong than just a temporary loss of air. The huge gasp of air stabbed him with a pain zinger. When he tried to sit up, he let out something between a yell and a groan. He lay there wincing for a minute, but didn’t make a further move to rise. Finally he looked at Elora and said, “Bloody Paddy’s Day, woman! I told you to go easy on me. I think you broke a fuckin’ rib!”
The knights who witnessed the event exchanged looks that were worth a thousand words.
Elora dropped to her knees next to Ram saying, “Ram, I’m...oh, gods... I’m so sorry. This is not.... I’ve executed that move a thousand times and I’ve never injured anybody. What can I do?” She started tugging at the laces with her teeth so she could get the gloves off. Then she heard Storm’s calm, take-charge voice behind her.
“Stay still Ram. Med’s coming. Let them take a look before you move.”
Ram’s rib hurt like hell, but it almost hurt worse to look up and see that Elora’s eyes filled with big tears that were dropping on his chest. Peering into those turquoise pools brimming over, turning red around the edges, his only concern was comforting her. “Shhhh. ‘Tis probably no’ more than bruised ego. Stop now before you make me cry, too.”
A doctor came in with an assistant close behind. He wasn’t running, but he was moving pretty fast for a middle aged guy who had never heeded his own advice about diet and exercise. Injuries to knights are taken very seriously.
Storm pulled Elora up and away to make room for them. The doc knelt down and pressed around a little. At one point she knew he’d found the spot when Ram clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut, and then reopened them to give the doc a look saying he was a dead man if he did that again. The diagnosis was, very likely, a broken rib, the severity of which would be confirmed by x-ray in the infirmary. They called for a wheelchair.
While they were waiting there was a murmur that rumbled through the crowd followed by a very loud voice shouting, “What the hell happened here?” Sol stomped toward Ram lying on the mat looking miserable.
Storm intercepted him, putting his hands up as if to block Sol from moving forward. Storm reported quietly that it was merely an accident. Glancing back toward Elora, he asked Sol to step outside in the hall where they might talk more privately.
In the hallway Sol got the short version to which he replied, “Jesus,” and raked his hand over his head as if there was actually hair there. Scowling, he asked Storm if he was going to the infirmary.
“Of course. I’ll wait for results and call you.”
Though red in the face and clearly mad as a hornet, Elora watched Sol nod at Storm, look her up and down, then retreat the way he came. Apparently there was a “notify first” standing order to report knight injuries to Sol immediately which was what had brought him on the double.
Elora paced up and down in the waiting room of the infirmary. She would have been glad to see familiar faces, but not under these circumstances and, truthfully, she had hoped she would never see the inside of the infirmary again. She was beside herself that Ram was injured and devastated that she was the cause. In her mind she kept replaying the scene over and over trying to determine how it could have happened. She’d never given anyone anything worse than a light bruise in her life and she didn’t like the feeling.
Kay came in with a coffee for Storm and a hot chocolate for Elora. She sat down and stared at the top of the cup thinking it would be wrong to enjoy hot chocolate. Storm took the seat next to her.
> “This was not your fault, Elora. Monq suspected you might be stronger than people… here. Sol knew it, too. They should have told you.” He looked down at his own cup. “In their defense, however, they wouldn’t have thought anybody trained by this organization would be stupid enough to spar with a woman. Any woman.”
“So you’re mad at Ram?”
“Yes, Elora. I always suspected that he is an imbecile who managed to con his way through the program and today he provided insurmountable proof.” He glanced at Kay who just shook his head a little and looked away. Elora was staring at him like she didn’t approve of what he was saying. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s our imbecile and we take care of our own.”
“How much of a freak am I?”
He regarded her with that all-is-well-because-I’m-here composure. “You’re not a freak. Just…strong. We need to find out how strong. Clearly we’re botching the job of hosting an inter-dimensional traveler. But that’s our fault. Not yours. Tomorrow we’re going to go to the fitness center together.” He nodded toward Kay. ”You and Kay and I. Monq can come if he wants. And we’re going to find out exactly how strong you are.
Don’t worry about Ram. He’s tough. He’ll be fine and we’ll figure this out.”
Elora looked at Storm and then back down at her cup. “I was watching the sparring and all I could think about was how many mistakes they were making and about that injured boy we saw. And I was thinking that, maybe he wouldn’t have been hurt like that if he was trained differently.” Looking between Storm and Kay, she said, “It was hard not interrupting to say, ‘No. Not like that.’ Can I be honest?”
Storm looked dumbfounded, but nodded.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I wouldn’t want you to lose people if some slight changes in style could make a difference.”
My Familiar Stranger Page 11