by Chris Reher
“Don’t hide from me,” she said. The laser blast that had strafed his cheek and jaw had left a brutal wound on his face that was only now healing. “Why didn’t you have that breezed,” she said. “That’s going to leave a scar.” She looked down to see that his arm, below the rolled-up sleeve, was also a mass of twisted flesh.
“Too late now.” He shrugged. “I don’t need a pretty face up here.”
“Can’t you look at me when we’re talking?”
“Can you?” He turned and she had to bite back a startled gasp. It wasn’t the wound that troubled her; she had grown up among battle-scarred veterans and had seen worse than this. It was the look on his face that suddenly seemed so foreign. Something had erased the mild, open expression she had come to like so much and replaced it with anger and distrust.
“It’s not so bad,” she stammered, wondering if she sounded as lame to him as she did to herself. “Can they do anything for that?”
He shook his head. “No. After… after I left you at Shon Gat with your people I got caught up by a rebel group. They kept me for days, up in the hills. I don’t know why. I was sick. And in pain. I finally got away and made my way back down and to the garrison.” He bent to tuck some tools into a box by his feet. “By that time it was too late.”
“We have an amazing exobiology clinic on Targon. There’s a whole department specializing in Human—”
“Just leave it alone, Nova! I’m a civilian. How do you think I can get to Targon? Like you said, it’s not so bad. It doesn’t matter.”
“Seems to matter to you or you’d look at me,” she snapped back and regretted that immediately. “I’m sorry,” she said more softly. “I’m so sorry about the whole thing. I wish they hadn’t started to shoot. I wish you had stayed.”
“I’d be dead now. Like the other civilians they murdered.”
“They were… confused. It seemed like you were all armed.”
His eyes narrowed. “There was no need for that and you know it, Lieutenant. That’s what your people do if you give them the chance. And if you think that this was just some rare misfortune, you’ve been up in your plane for too long.”
She reached out to touch him but he pulled away. “Please, Djari. I don’t know what to say. How to make this right.”
“You can’t fix the world, Nova. This is what you’ve chosen. So live with it. You saw them down there! Maimed civilians, sick children, bodies in the streets. That’s your war. Not Bellac’s. Yours. You can’t make it right any more than I can.” He threw his hands up in a helpless gesture. “Why do you make excuses for this? Civilians get in the way. Your own people tried to break you. And you don’t think there’s something wrong with that?”
She frowned. “The Commonwealth was never meant to be a military force. It’s about trade. Gods, Djari, if it weren’t for groups like the Shri-Lan we’d need no military at all. We’re spread out with few resources over just too much space. It can’t possibly be perfect, no matter how hard we try.” She looked around the endless rows of racks as if to find answers among the drip trays. “If… things happen so far out here, it’s because of people. People who don’t care about rules. People who are in this for their own profit. And that includes Union members.”
“More excuses,” he grumbled, unconvinced. “I’ve seen enough. Neither of us belongs here.”
“And yet, here you are,” she said, gesturing at the farm flats with a sweep of her arm. “Working for the Union.”
He said nothing for a moment. His eyes shifted to the orbiter seen through the transparent dome of the grow ring. “I’m working for Bellac,” he said finally. He turned away. “You’re working for Air Command.”
She grasped his arm. “Don’t do this, Djari,” she pleaded, hurt by his dismissal of her and worried by the pain that obscured the gentle, nurturing man she had met in Shon Gat. “Please.”
He turned back. For a moment she thought he would say something to show her that he was still in there somewhere. He searched her face and raised a hand as if to touch her. Her breath caught when the angry tension shifted to something softer, perhaps something she recognized. Instead he snatched that hand away and covered it with the other as if to hide the scars on it. “Leave me alone,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper. “Please just go away.”
Chapter Seven
“So that’s why I drink,” Nova said and tipped back another thimble of what was not at all rotgut. Nor was this quiet, elegant lounge aboard the brand new orbiter even remotely comparable to the echoing rec halls that passed for bars around the ground bases. A skyranch was built for civilians and, given the isolation that comes with living in space, amenities were at the top of the health and wellness arrangements. It suited the pilots just fine.
Lieutenant Rolyn propped his face onto his palm and observed her critically. “Except that you don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Drink. Much, anyway.”
“I’m starting today,” she said and tipped the jar over her glass for another shot.
“You’ll puke,” Heiko Boker, the other officer at the table, warned.
She shrugged. The two of them had lured her to the lounge at the end of today’s shift, determined to cheer her up, or so they said. She suspected that they were mainly driven by curiosity.
The days since her painful encounter with Djari had passed like sand through an hour glass. She did her work steadily and without enthusiasm, letting the time pass between shifts with morose walks along the station’s exercise ring or by sleeping too much. She wanted to return to him, talk more about what had happened, perhaps even convince him to turn to the post-trauma team to help him get over his anger. Shon Gat had changed him, somehow, of that she was certain.
Boker and Rolyn were less convinced of that. They had dragged the story out of her over several shots of very smooth spirits, which actually made her feel a little better, and then set to analyzing the problem as if they had gathered for a debrief.
“You gotta deal, Whiteside,” Boker said. “For all you know he’s a right bastard all the time. You were stuck with him for just a couple of days. Maybe he was trying to impress you.”
“And get himself some bag time with you,” Rolyn added. “Let’s not forget that.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe that.”
“You don’t think he was?” He raised a hand and counted off on his fingers. “You’re behind front lines. It’s tense. You’ve come to count on him keeping his shit together when others aren’t and you’re a scrumptious example of femality. Now you’re alone. Boom. Nothing takes the pressure off more than a good hard…” He checked himself. “…love-making.”
Nova rolled her eyes although the sporadic attempts of her squad mates to curb their more colorful language were as amusing as it was condescending. “That’s not all it was.”
“I’ve seen him around,” Boker said. “That’s one nice looking pedestrian.” He batted his eyelashes at the ceiling. “Shoulders out to here, dreamy streaky hair, a smile that’ll melt Feron’s core and, I have to admit, a shapely backside. Nice catch, Whiteside.”
“That is not all it was!”
“No?” Rolyn said. “Now you’re up here where it’s safe. Lots of other bedmates to be found. You’re a pilot and he’s crew. Civilian, like Heiko said. Those worlds don’t even fit together.”
She frowned. “Does it always have to come down to just that?”
“Yeah,” Boker watched her take another shot. “Come clear with us, Whiteside. You’re not bemoaning a lost love. You’re pissed because he ditched you.”
She scowled at him.
“Ah, I’m right,” he grinned. “You’re too tough for this shit, admit it. You don’t get mad crushes on some pretty thing that you barely know. I can name a few fine-looking slabs of officer-hood that’d take you home in an instant and you barely even look their way. It’s not what you’re here for, Lieutenant, and they know it. But then you fall for Farmboy? I don’t buy i
t.”
She pushed her glass around the table. Compelling or not, attractive or not, Boker was probably right about Djari. His rejection of her had stung. She hadn’t encountered anything like it since a brief infatuation with a senior at the academy on Magra. “I just want to help him,” she said. “He seems so lost.”
“You’re not helping anyone by letting this get to you,” Rolyn said. “Let him sort out his own issues. You’ve got enough to deal with.”
She looked up, sharply. “Like what?”
He smirked and elbowed Boker. “Do we tell her?”
His friend took a surreptitious and at the same time terribly theatrical look around the lounge. A few officers chatting over the drinks, a few couples having dinner, some civilians enjoying some sort of celebration. No one seemed particularly interested in overhearing their conversation.
Nova gave his arm a playful punch. “Come on, Rolie. Now you got me curious.”
“Don’t tell the others. Lady Patrina is coming up. Inspection. Some engineers came in from Targon to go over the rings but she’ll be here to give us a comb-through.”
“The general?” Nova whispered loudly. “How do you know?”
“We have our sources,” Boker said loftily. “Make sure your shoes are polished. She’s not been pleasant since the Shon Gat thing.”
Nova sat back. “Please tell me we’re doing a red flag for her!” A major military exercise like that counted fully toward the flying hours she needed for her next qualification.
They understood her excitement. “So it’s told,” Boker said. “And we’ll get one day notice. The pilots, I mean.” His expression grew a little more somber. “Dakad’s going to need you to shine, Nova. He’s going to put you on the Red team, I’m sure. Forget about your farmer. This is business.”
She nodded. Red team meant that she would fly an enemy Shrill rather than her far more familiar Kite. A disadvantage in this mock battle but a position granted to only the more esteemed pilots. Another very solid highlight on her record. “I’ll go crazy if he doesn’t. When’s this happening?”
“A few days. They’re delivering the Shrills to the Old Man so we don’t get wise to this. Already have a command center set up.”
“Ah,” she grinned. “You got this intel out of the crew. The techs have to be in on this.” The moon called Old Man by Bellac’s people had served as a base for microgravity exercises before. Setting a transport down on its surface was the easiest way to establish a livable environment for those monitoring the action. Still, placing the rally points and game beacons required more than just landing a ship.
“What? No. I seduced the Air Boss. Honest. She let it all spill in the throes of passion.”
“Yah, right. Last time I saw you two together she asked you if you were better at cleaning latrines than landing your plane.”
“It’s all a front,” he said. “She’s mad about me.”
Rolyn reached over and scrubbed Boker’s closely-cropped head with his knuckles. “The boy is delusional.”
Nova was not the only pilot thrilled that Boker and Rolyn’s gossip turned out to be unusually accurate. Two days of rising excitement and endless speculation later, a cruiser from Bellac arrived, bringing with it General Patrina Ausan and a delegation of native governors and civilian engineers. Air Command’s defensive measures up here on the orbiter were not the focus of their visit and, after an inspection of the pilots and soldiers in formal attendance, they were hustled into the grow rings to admire their future source of food and profits.
It was nearly time to turn in for the night when a last-minute assembly was called and the pilots gathered in the upper fighter craft hanger. Nova joined Boker, Rolyn and Lieutenants Nieri and Sulean to await the longed-for announcement. She gave a quick thumbs-up to her roommate Jianna, a member of Caga squad. Some of the technicians loitered near the back to watch.
The hall fell silent when Lieutenant Colonel Thedris, commander of Skyranch Twelve, and General Ausan, commander of all Air Command operations on Bellac, stepped onto a repair platform at the end of the hangar. The general made a brief speech that could probably apply to any military outfit doing its job on any of a dozen Union planets. But, finally, she announced the exercise and did not mind when the cheers from the pilots interrupted the presentation.
Each of the squadron leaders stepped forward to assign roles to their pilots. Seven Cagas and six Cet squad members were to fly defense, along with six of Nova’s squad. Captain Dakad took his turn last. “I seem to have been elected to command the ‘rebel’ wing this time,” he said, awkward with the informality of the moment. He glanced over his data sleeve.
Boker gripped Nova’s elbow. When they were named to fly the quick, highly unstable enemy Shrills, both of them jumped up at once. More names were announced but she heard none of that.
“I’ll never say anything mean about Dakad ever again,” Boker said.
“You just hope those Shrills are glued together properly.” Rolyn sounded worried. “Those are captured enemy planes. Junk, in other words.”
“Have some faith in our techs,” Boker said. “And hope they remembered to take the fire out of those guns, ‘cause I’m going to climb all over your six, brother!”
Nova pinched him to shut him up as Dakad gave instructions. “The Red team leaves after breakfast for the Old Man. The shuttle will be on Deck Two. Green team is taking the Kites directly. You’ll get parking instructions upon arrival. Video coverage will be shown in the lounges. General Ausan will join us on the moon as well.” He seemed to pick Boker out of the crowd. “So behave yourselves.”
* * *
Nova was keyed up and ready to fly when she stepped through the door separating the pilots’ quarters from the lower of the two combat flight decks long before any of them really needed to be there. As always, she felt the strange sense of displacement when she moved from the sound-baffled, muted corridors into the noisy, echoing clamor of the hangars. She walked down the long by-way, passing the closed chutes used by the Kites to the air locks designed for larger ships. Some of the other pilots were also already out here, impatient to head to the moon.
“Nova!”
She stopped to look around for the familiar voice. “Djari?” She waited while he hurried toward her. Oddly, it felt like she was seeing someone she had known for a long time. Had he really been on her mind that much? She smiled tentatively. “What are you doing up here?”
He held up a package, still out of breath. “New seeds just came in.”
She groped for words, unsure of the moment and unprepared for this meeting. Ahead of her, Lieutenant Sool had turned to wait for her. She waved him onward.
Djari hesitated and the moment grew more awkward. “I hadn’t expected to see you here, either,” he said finally.
“What, on the flight deck? I work here.”
He blinked. “I meant now. Don’t you do the later shift?”
“Special exercise.” She gestured to the transparent wall between the airlocks where the shuttle as well as General Ausan’s cruiser stood ready for departure. “We’re going to the moon.”
“Can I talk to you?”
She looked to the ships again and then back at him, undecided.
“Please,” he said. “I… I’ve been wanting to… apologize, I guess. Just give me a few minutes.”
Nova peered into his face and something there seemed so miserable and urgent that she relented. The planes were not yet ready to leave, anyway. She followed Djari into one of the ready rooms overlooking the busy air lock area. “I’m not angry with you,” she said to him. “You have reason for the way you feel.”
He shook his head. “No. I was wrong to treat you like that. You’re not like the others. I saw that on Shon Gat. I have no right to talk to you that way. Been losing sleep over it.” He smiled crookedly. “So I talked to… to some people. I was wrong and I’m sorry. I wanted you to know that.”
She smiled back at him. He did seem to be more his old se
lf again, the way she had met him. She resisted the impulse to reach up to brush aside that rebellious shock of hair that seemed to constantly fall over his eyes. “You’re not trained for… this. I’d be bitter, too, after what happened.”
“I’m glad I ran into you. I was afraid to call on you. I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again.”
“I don’t hold a grudge,” she said. “Been kind of worried about you.” She frowned when she looked past him through the open door and over the deck. Outside, the general’s shuttle had moved away from the lock where it halted to await departure clearance. But it seemed strangely off-kilter, as if it were slowly rolling over; an unlikely maneuver while still within the station’s gravity well. Someone ran toward the lock. Something flew past the window.
Nova lunged forward and threw herself at Djari to shove him backward and over a short podium step to the floor. A massive explosion roared through the open hangar space, muted only by the internal shielding. Its pressure wave was enough to shatter the window and collapse the doorframe of the ready room, showering them with shards and twisted pieces of metal. Nova pressed her face to Djari’s chest until the noise had subsided. Alarms brayed into the brief silence that followed.
She came to her feet to look out into the devastated hangar. The locks that had just moments ago supported the two ships were gone. Massive, warped metal shapes littering the interior reminded of some familiar parts. Casualties, mostly hangar jockeys and a few soldiers, were scattered among the wreckage. Overhead lights had turned orange as soon as the shield generators had detected the change of pressure. Already, security personnel arrived to assess the situation. “Gods, the shuttle!” she gasped, frantically trying to remember which of her wing mates had already boarded. Sool, maybe also Drayson and Xiachiu. She hoped Boker was running late as usual.
“Djari?” she turned back to him. He was still on the floor and still clutching his package of seeds. There was blood on it. “Djari!”