In Evil Times

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “I did, sir,” Mercedes replied and she launched even though the doors weren’t fully open.

  12

  HEROICS AND HYSTERICS

  “Lieutenant Princess, I order you—”

  She tipped the Infierno so it was flying edge-on and shot through the door. She locked in on Jace’s signal and opened up the throttle. She was pulling close to eight gees, and for a moment her vision greyed out. She reversed thrust to slow down her speed and began running calculations.

  “Jace, I’m going to link with you using the hooks on the tops of our fighters.”

  “Hi… Highness?”

  “Mercedes, what the hell are you doing!” Boho’s voice was practically a howl.

  What you should be! But that wasn’t what she said. She tempered it. “What has to be done.”

  She was now in the grasp of the planet. She glanced between her readouts. They only had bare minutes to link, burn engines and time the firing of the slugs to catapult them out of the gravity well. She flipped the Infierno. She had long ago lost all sensitivity to vertigo and nausea. She lined up with the other fighter and dropped onto it. It took two tries before she managed to hook one of the lift hooks on her fighter with the hook on the other craft. Their canopies were kissing. Jace looked up, his face twisted with fear and hope behind the faceplate of his helmet. She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

  “Okay, Jace, I’m sending over the calculation for firing the slugs. Program it in. You’ll probably lose consciousness because we need full burn.”

  “O… okay.”

  “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “In four, three, two, one…” A giant hand pressed down on her chest. Her vision narrowed to a mere tunnel, the lights on the control panel seemed very far away. She faintly heard Commander Lewis bellow, “What the fuck is that?”

  An alarm was screaming though it sounded muffled. Her neck seemed to have turned to iron, and her head weighed a thousand pounds. She managed to move it slightly though she felt something pop. She shifted her eyes side to side. A mass of lights and shadow loomed below them. It was a ship. A massive ship.

  Captain Vink is going to be so pissed that we missed this, she thought.

  A sharp vibration passed through her fighter and then they were being pulled into a dark cave. Mercedes passed out.

  * * *

  When consciousness returned she realized her neck was a column of pain and her head was throbbing. She was lying on a foam couch inside a translucent envo-pod, her helmet next to her. Another bubble held Jace, who was still unconscious. Outside enormous shadowy forms seemed to swim or fly through thick green-tinted atmosphere.

  One of the shadows drew close and resolved into a creature with a ten-foot wingspan. There were six-fingered hands at the tip of the wings and hands where there should be feet. It had a long proboscis instead of a nose and huge oval eyes. The monstrosity was smiling. Mercedes tried to sit up.

  “Be at peace. You are well and safe. You are aboard the Wealth Maker.”

  “You’re Cara’ot.”

  “Yes, Princess.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Of course. Cara watch the news too. Cara have programmed this deck for gravity appropriate for your bodies and placed you in pods with an oxygen/nitrogen mix. Your ship has been informed that Cara have you.”

  That’s right, Mercedes thought. They don’t use pronouns or possessives since both gender and form are so mutable with the aliens.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Harvesting. It’s often easier in these proto-systems.”

  Mercedes lay back down. “Thank you.”

  “Cara pleasure.”

  She had to ask. “Would we have made it?”

  “Probably. Your plan was a good one, but Cara feared a random element might have upset the balance so Cara,” the mouth stretched into an even wider smile, “thought Cara would give you a lift.”

  “Thank you. Our craft?”

  “Undamaged. Once your companion regains consciousness you will be able to fly triumphantly back to your ship and receive their congratulations.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably not how it’s going to go,” Mercedes said wryly.

  The creature’s long wings gave a lazy flap. “This ship also carries trade goods. We would be happy to arrange a showing of our products to your crew.”

  “Thank you, I’ll pass that on.” She could only imagine how well that would go over. On the other hand it might distract the brass from her transgression.

  * * *

  Mercedes stood at attention while a torrent of words washed over her. Lewis and Vink were taking turns delivering the tongue lashing. A word or phrase would occasionally pop out but overall it was just an angry drone that made her pounding headache even worse. Outrageous! Insubordinate! Willfully disobedient! Anyone but you… cashiered!

  “On the other hand,” Lewis said, and Mercedes decided she better start paying attention. “Anyone who can fly like that needs to be… well, flying.” Mercedes risked a glance at Vink. He looked like a man who’d bitten into a rotten lemon. “The admiral agrees. You’re in command of second squadron.”

  Mercedes staggered a bit. Just getting to fly would have been enough. She started to smile, but another look at Vink made her decide against it. She braced even harder and snapped off a salute. “Thank you, sir. I’ll try to live up to your confidence in me.”

  Vink gave a snort of disgust. “Don’t think it’s all perks, Lieutenant Princess. You’ve still earned an admonition for this.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “And I want you to report to medical for a full exam,” Vink ordered.

  “I’m fine, sir, really. Just a high-gee headache.”

  “You were unconscious on that ship. God knows what those devils might have done to you,” Vink said.

  “I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

  “They corrupt nature at its most basic level. They could have done something to you that might affect your offspring. Do it!”

  “Yes, sir,” Mercedes said, but she was talking to his back as he left.

  Lewis sagged. “Whew. Thought he’d never leave.”

  Emboldened by the informality of the statement Mercedes said, “Love how he was so concerned about my unborn children, but he wasn’t terribly concerned about me.”

  “He lost family in the last battle.”

  “That was almost two hundred years ago.”

  “Some people can hold a grudge.”

  Mercedes remembered her history classes: Lord Trent Crispin’s lecture on the American Civil War and how it hadn’t really ended in the hearts and minds of some people until humans made contact with aliens. At that point superficial racial differences had suddenly seemed unimportant.

  “You get on to medical,” Lewis said. “And after… well… I’d find your husband.” His look was significant.

  “Uh… right. I will.” She paused at the door. “Oh, one more thing. The Cara’ot said that while they’re mostly a harvesting vessel they are carrying some goods. If we wanted to shop.”

  Lewis pressed a hand against his forehead. “I’m really glad you didn’t say that in front of Captain Vink. His head would have exploded. I’ll tell Communications to quietly and politely decline.”

  “I can do it.”

  “No you can’t. You’re no longer a comm officer.”

  “Oh right.” And Mercedes knew she had a foolish grin.

  * * *

  “I didn’t do it to show you up!”

  “Then why did you do it?” Boho demanded. He had a thunderous frown and he seemed to loom over her.

  “So Jace wouldn’t die!”

  They were in their quarters. Quarters that had once belonged to Commander Riley, the requisition officer now forced to share quarters with Commander Lord Le Blanque who led the fusileros. Neither of the officers were very happy, but the princess and her consort were to take precedence even thou
gh they were lowly lieutenants.

  “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”

  “Just as long as you’re not the one making it!” Mercedes flared. Something flickered deep in those green eyes and Mercedes was seized by guilt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I just wish you’d let me talk you through the maneuver. You could have easily done it. And it turned out to be moot anyway. The Cara’ot ship was there.”

  “Which has Vink’s shorts in a bunch, let me tell you,” Boho grunted. “He’s been roaring through the ship calling snap inspections and drills on sensors and weapons. Said we should have spotted that Cara’ot ship.”

  “Yeah, he made me go to medical for a full physical. That’s why I didn’t come to you right away.”

  He clutched her close. “Physical? You’re all right, aren’t you?”

  “I’m fine. Paranoia on the part of Vink. Dr. Donato practically took out my teeth so he could inspect them.”

  That won a small smile. Mercedes studied his face. The overt anger was gone, but there was a tension in his jaw, the set of his shoulders. She ran her fingers down his cheek.

  Keeping her tone light and flirtatious she slipped her hand inside the jacket of his utility uniform and said, “I think we just had our first fight.” She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. “What do you say to a little make-up sex? I hear it can be wonderful.”

  He clasped her hands tightly and leered down at her. “I’d love to find out.”

  Mercedes retreated to the tiny head, doused the sponge with spermicide and inserted it. She touched the extra bottles she had obtained from the Candy Box just before she left. She thought she had enough to last through her tour. If not there were always whorehouses on frontier worlds. They would probably have what she needed. Mercedes felt terribly manipulative, but maybe that was what wives had to do to keep the peace? She figured she would wait until after they made love to tell Boho that not only was she going to be flying, but she was now a squadron leader.

  After sex they were hot and sweaty, but showering together was not an option in the tiny bathroom. Boho let Mercedes go first while he scrolled through his tap-pad. She glanced back at him as he sprawled on the narrow bunk shamelessly naked, one knee up.

  Cleaned up and dressed they emerged to discover that the admiral had overruled Lewis and the Cara’ot had come aboard with a selection of goods. They joined the parade of officers heading down to the shuttle deck. No enlisted personnel were among them, which wasn’t surprising. The Cara’ot specialized in the rare and exotic and would have nothing that an hombre could afford.

  Mercedes had been in an envo-pod on the Cara’ot ship. Here the aliens were encased in much larger ones, like floating snow globes filled with poisonous air and shadowy forms partially obscured by the viscous green atmosphere. Tables of clear Lucite had been set up between the boxy shuttle craft. Black velvet cloth, artistically rumpled to create fabric frames, displayed the wares. Mercedes noticed that the tables weren’t cluttered with goods for sale. Instead they held only a few items arranged for maximum impact. Jewelry designed to grace a human woman’s neck or arms or ears glittered on the first table. Another held enamel and gold Tiponi Flute icons and Sidone spider weavings. Another offered perfumes in graceful twisting glass bottles, creams and unguents, and rare liquors. The bottles alone were works of art. The final table held weapons. Mercedes saw the boot knife that Tracy had given her two years ago at Christmas. There were dueling rapiers and sabers with exquisite filigreed grips. Boho headed straight for them.

  The admiral was talking with a Cara’ot inside one of the pods. He was chuckling, nodding. The chief engineer was in conversation with another alien. He was leaning in so close that he almost had his face pressed up against the side of the pod. Mercedes was sure he wanted to know how the Cara’ot ship could maneuver so easily in this gravitation vortex.

  Mercedes moved to a table and examined the jewelry, thinking she could find Christmas gifts for her sisters among the shimmering display. She made her selections and pressed her ring against the reader. Reals were transferred and her purchases whisked away to be boxed and wrapped.

  “If Highness will permit, this pin would suit her.” A waldo hand folded off the pod. It was holding what appeared to be tiny stars caught in a net of silver threads.

  She couldn’t control it, Mercedes gasped. “What are they?”

  “Phantasm gems.”

  “I’ve never seen clear ones before.”

  “They are very rare. Only one in ten thousand Scalewings produce the clear ones.”

  Mercedes studied the number of glittering gems and did a rough calculation of how many flying lizards had given up their gizzards to create this pin. “I don’t even want to ask how much it is,” she murmured.

  “Cara would work with you on the price. At least try it on.”

  “Well, all right.”

  Another hand joined the first waldo, and stretched out to her. While nimble, the hands were a bit clumsy and before the pin was safely clasped the tip pierced her uniform and pricked the skin above her left breast. “Cara begs pardon for Cara clumsiness.”

  “It’s all right.” A mirror was picked up and held so she could see the effect. It was breathtaking. She pictured wearing it on the shoulder of a raven-wing black dress that hung in her closet back home. “I have to have it.” The creature told her the price and she blanched, but then indicated the discount. It was still outrageously expensive, but not hideously so. And it wasn’t like they had household expenses right now. They were being fed, housed and shod by the imperial fleet.

  “Would you wish to wear it?”

  “No. Personal jewelry apart from wedding rings aren’t allowed while in uniform. Box it for me. I’ll send my batBEM to collect my purchases.”

  “Very good, Highness.” The undulations of the winged body made her suspect the creature was bowing.

  Scanning the room she spotted Boho making a payment. She went to see what he had bought, but before she reached him an alien pod traveling on its cushion of air swept up to her. “You fly very well, Imperial Highness,” the occupant said.

  “Thank you.”

  “It would be interesting to match skills with you.”

  “I’m not sure that would be a fair contest. You’ve been adapted for high-gravity environments. And one hopes we’re not going to start shooting at one another again.”

  “Of course not, Highness. Just a bit of friendly competition.”

  “I would look forward to it.” She nodded and walked away. Added under her breath, “Not!”

  She finally reached Boho’s side. He was running a hand gently down the blade of a rapier. The hilt was almost abstract in its shape and simplicity and made from an opalescent material. “Fits my hand like it was made for it. I’m going to wear it at our coronation.”

  “I hope you’re going to enjoy it before then,” Mercedes said somewhat dryly. “Because that’s going to be a long wait.”

  He laughed. “Oh, I intend to. Clark needs a lesson on just who is the better duelist.”

  She shook her head. “Men. You’re so cute.”

  The Cara’ot were packing up. Elaborate farewells were exchanged between the admiral and the creature everyone assumed was the Cara’ot captain. The humans retreated off the shuttle deck and the aliens launched. The moment the doors cycled closed behind them the admiral became grim-faced. He touched his ring. Vink’s image appeared in the air in front of him.

  “Vink, plot a course for Hellfire. I want to talk to the joint chiefs.”

  Hellfire: the planet that housed central command, and the largest military installation in the League. Mercedes and Boho exchanged glances as the admiral walked away with his top commanders around him.

  “Well, clearly they’re seeing something we’re not,” Boho said.

  * * *

  Hellfire was in a double star system which meant the planet had an eccentric orbit that part of the year had it freezing, in another frying, and in between
it was just lovely. All of which meant it wasn’t an appropriate choice for colonization, but perfect for the sadists who commanded the ground forces of the Solar League. The navy, of course, floated above it all and made use of the three large orbital dockyards. None of them were as big as the facility at Cuandru, but it was still impressive.

  While Kartirci and Vink went down to Norfolk, the largest base on the planet and the one devoted to the Orden de la Estrella, the rest of the crew of the Concepción inventoried supplies, made up any deficits and rotated in new crew.

  Lewis had the squadrons flying elaborate drills designed to show off to his counterpart and rival from the Reina del Cielo that his pilots were better than Commander Caballero Utrecht’s. It was working, but that didn’t matter to Mercedes. What mattered was how outright disdain and amused condescension had turned into first grudging respect and finally outright compliments as she out-flew both her shipmates and the pilots from the del Cielo. She was beginning to think… hope that by the time she ascended to the throne her bona fides as a military leader would be secure.

  At first Boho had been sulky about her promotion, but as her successes grew he began to puff and preen, taking pride in her accomplishments. When she learned he’d implied and once had outright said that he coached her she was inclined to be angry and wanted to confront him. A few moments of consideration and she decided that if the little fib helped him salve his ego she was alright with it. It certainly did make things better between them.

  It was Saturday and since she’d missed confession the past two weeks she thought she’d better go; her annoyance with her husband was certainly on her conscience. The confessional box aboard the Concepción was elaborate, very much in keeping with the chapel itself, which had a French rococo feel with shades of gold and blue with gold stars spangled across the ceiling. All of which was appropriate for a ship named for the Virgin.

  Mercedes slid into the box, pulled out her rosary and kissed the crucifix. “Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession.”