by J. L. Curtis
Holly came around the corner in their runabout, with Mac riding in the jump seat. Nicole smiled at Fargo, “See?”
“Mom! Guess what? We’ve figured out how to make booze!”
Fargo thought, Maybe there is something to that Scottish mafia thing after all. Second time Mac’s been tied to that. First Grayson, and now this… “Interesting. Well, they’re here, and I need to get back. See you Friday?”
Nicole hugged him, “Of course.”
Holly said, “I was hoping you could stay for dinner. I’ve figured out…”
MobyDineah, CSM Aphrodite, and Sergeant Omar came around the corner, and Fargo sighed, This is not what I needed. I hope Canis and… oh shit! The cargo cover started moving, and both animals popped up looking eagerly at MobyDineah.
Sergeant Omar’s GalTrans chirped, “Animals of danger. Take care of, I will,” as he drew his service pistol.
Fargo stepped between Omar and the animals as they snarled, and Moby reached over and clamped a hand on Omar’s arm, “No Sergeant. Not dangerous. Friends of us and the Captain. You will not shoot.”
Fargo reached out, projecting, “Sergeant, they are trained. They are not wild. You will not shoot. You will forget you ever saw them. You will leave now.”
Omar stiffened, then chirped, “Captain of the retired is here. I must go back to my duties.” He turned and walked stiffly away, leaving the rest of them staring at Fargo as Canis scratched at the canopy.
Fargo sighed, pushing the canopy back as Canis and Cattus bounded out of the liteflyer. Moby and Dineah went down on their knees, and were being licked by both animals as Holly and Nicole shook their heads. He saw that Mac had moved between Holly and the animals and smiled to himself.
CSM Aphrodite looked at him, then said, “You did talk to me when you pulled me out, didn’t you?”
Everybody looked at him in confusion, and he sighed, “I told you not to die on me. And yes, I have psi talent. You are the only people that know that. I would ask that you not tell anyone else about that, or the animals. The wolf is Canis, the mountain lion is Cattus.”
He projected to the animals, “Friends.” “Walk to them quietly, hold your hand out palm down for them to smell.”
Aphrodite looked down at MobyDineah, “You knew about this?” She put out her hand tentatively, and Canis then Cattus sniffed her then sat back down.”
He felt the two of them ‘talking’ and Dineah said, “Yes, CSM. You know what we are, and what we can do. Fargo can also do that.”
Mac sidled over, and he said, “Mac, they’re not going to eat you.” Nicole snickered, and Holly smacked her arm as she stepped up beside Mac, extending her hand. Canis smelled her then licked her hand, tail wagging as Cattus sniffed Mac’s hand. Cattus yawned, then shouldered Canis out of the way, licked Holly’s hand and walked over and head butted Nicole in the thigh, rocking her back.
Nicole swatted her, “Stop that Cattus. Yes, she’s my daughter. You know that.”
Fargo’s looked at the sinking sun, “I need to go. Please don’t say anything about this, please.”
Aphrodite nodded tightly then said, “I will not. But we need to have a conversation.”
Fargo nodded. “Friday morning? Will that be soon enough?”
Aphrodite nodded again, then stalked off. Fargo picked the animals up and put them back in the cargo area. He nodded to MobyDineah, who were smiling, kissed Nicole, and climbed into the cockpit as Holly and Mac walked back to their runabout, Nicole following behind.
***
Friday morning, Fargo landed at Rushing River just after first light. Climbing out of the liteflyer, he pulled his jacket closer, Damn it’s getting colder. And this snow…I hope Jiri doesn’t decide to do any outside drills today. He was startled to see the CSM drive up in a runabout, considering he’d never see her without a driver. She opened the door, “Get in.”
He climbed in and before he got the door shut, she’d already stomped the accelerator, “Where are we going?”
“To your damn clinic.” She stared forward and he sat back quietly, Well, this is off to a good start. Why are we…oh shit, OneSvel. He saved her. That’s…dammit, how can we explain this and keep it quiet? He settled into a funk, frantically trying to figure out how to not reveal what they were doing. Segs later, she slid the runabout to a stop in front of the clinic, “Out!”
He climbed out and at least beat her to the door, dilating it as she stomped through. Doc Grant came out of the back, “Can I help you?”
CSM Aphrodite came to attention and ground out, “I would like to see medic OneSvel if they are available, please.”
Doc glanced at Fargo, “Ah, give me a seg, they are in the back. Please have a seat.” He disappeared into the back of the clinic, and Fargo sat, while she continued to pace.
She finally stopped in front of him, “Why did you save me?”
“What?”
“Why did you save me? Your kind hates me.”
Fargo jumped up, “What the fuck are you talking about? Hate you? Where the fuck did you get that…”
She sliced a hand down, “You are a Marine. Marines hate Herms. You should have let me die, yet you saved me! Why?”
Fargo got nose to nose with her, “Because you’re a fucking troop. I had the privilege of commanding you, but I also have the responsibility for you! I don’t like my troops to die. You weren’t dead, and I’ve got enough dead troops on my conscience already. Maybe GalPat has a different mentality than the Corps, but we take care of our own. As far as what you are, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t care if you’re a pitcher, or catcher, or whatever. You do a good job, and that is what counts. Now get out of my fucking face, troop! Do you understand?”
Doc Grant interrupted, “Ah, do you want us to come back later?”
Fargo snorted. “No, I’ve had my say. Sorry for the fuc… language.”
OneSvel twittered, “Can I help you CSM?”
She turned to him, and they saw tears running down her face, “What are you? You’re not a medic! No medic could have done what you did according to Seekamp. You had your ‘pods inside me before they even got me out of the armor. She said she’s never seen anybody move that fast, much less work around somebody being extracted, who was technically dead. She said I’d gone red on the way up. And regen my legs? That’s only done at a major hospital, not in a fuc…med box on a damn weird ship. You…I can have you drafted into the Patrol for your expertise for the good of the service, and I’m sorely tempted.”
Doc Grant burst out laughing and CSM yelled, “What are you laughing at?”
He finally got his giggles under control and said, “Oh CSM, oh you poor thing. You can’t draft him.”
“Why not?”
Fargo was wondering what to say when Doc replied with a smile, “You can’t draft somebody that’s already in service. Meet Colonel-General OneSvel, Galactic Medical Corps. Oh yeah, he kinda out ranks you too, so you might want to salute him, rather than screaming at him.”
Fargo fell back into his chair, Colonel-General? OneSvel? He’s a contract…he never…what the…
OneSvel twittered, “I see you found us out Doc. Why did you not say something earlier?”
“You were a little too good. And showing up not long after Fargo, and leaving stuff in storage tweaked my interest. There aren’t many Taurasian doctors, much less surgeons around. And your saving that girl up at the Enclave really piqued my interest, since I knew I couldn’t do that surgery with better than a fifty-fifty chance of success. That narrowed the search even more, and I reached out to a few people. Low and behold, one Taurasian Colonel-General surgeon was TEMADD to the GalScouts, but currently on sabbatical. Two and two added up to five, and voila, here you were. You two are up to something, but I don’t give a shit.”
CSM said weakly, “Colonel-General?”
OneSvel waved a pseudopod, “Afraid so, CSM. You were a bit of a challenge, but no more than putting Fargo back together a couple of times. At least you don’t h
ave his issues.”
The CSM collapsed into a chair, burying her head in her hands, sobbing. Fargo decided it was time to be elsewhere, and headed for the door as Doc Grant sat down next to her. He had to go drill with the militia, and being on time was critical, especially since he was the commander, Yeah, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.
***
Fargo decided Jiri was a closet sadist as he racked his pistol and rifle after qualifying, then cleaning them outside. In the freaking snow? Really? And advance/retreat drills in the streets? And practice dispersals? I haven’t slept in a tent in…Deity knows how many years.
Warrant Boykin just happened to drop by just as they were finishing up, and offered him and Nicole a ride back to Rushing River, which they gladly took her up on. As it turned out, she was coming down to do a survey on the shuttle she’d named Wizard, and was, with Colonel Keads backing, hoping to get to keep it, and send Stuttering Sally back for retrofit and depot level repair.
They stood talking on the edge of the ramp, and she was filling him and Nicole in on the BS going on at White Beach when Fargo’s wrist comp beeped, and he looked at it. INCOMING MESSAGE- JACE REQ U MEET HIM AT CABIN ASAP. “Well, looks like Hyderabad is back. Captain Jace wants me to meet him at the cabin, so I need to go. Thanks for the ride, WO.”
He hugged Nicole and gave her a quick kiss, “See you in a couple of days?”
Nicole grumbled, “Maybe I’ll be warm by then. Militia my ass. Go away. I’m going to go get warm.”
***
Fargo landed on the antigrav at dusk, which was a little tricky with the snow. He saw the small stealth shuttle sitting in front of his cabin and wondered, Now what the hell? Jace is paranoid as hell about that little shuttle, why… He opened the canopy saw Canis and Cattus flat on the ground, ears back and in attack mode, and other wolves and mountain lions streaming into the field. What the hell?
He jumped out and headed toward the shuttle, only to have Canis and Cattus crowd in front of him and try to stop him from getting to it. He heard snarling and spitting and looked around, startled to see that he and the shuttle were surrounded. He projected, “Calm, no threat. Friends,” and that quieted things down a bit.
He got to the hatch and Jace cracked it about half way open, “Ah, there seems to be an issue here,” waving his arm at the animals surrounding the shuttle.
“I don’t know what set them off. I’ve never seen that kind of behavior before. It’s almost like you’ve got a Silverback on here.”
Jace nodded solemnly, “Pretty damn close. Can we make it to the cabin?”
“We?”
“Ton, come on back.”
“Ton?” He glanced forward to see Ton’Skel come walking back from the cockpit. “What are you…What is he…?”
Jace repeated, “Can we go to your cabin? I… we need to show you something.”
Fargo shrugged. “Well, that explains what the animals are upset about. They must have smelled Ton'Skel, and I know they hate Goons. Okay, come here Ton, you will need to step out with me. I will introduce you to them and we’ll see what happens. Just so you know, if you go down, I’ll go down with you, because you are my guest.”
Fargo turned to the hatch, projecting, “No threat. Friends.” He repeated it over and over as he led Ton’Skel to Canis and Cattus. “Stick out your hand, palm down. Let them sniff you.”
Ton'Skel extended a trembling hand, and Fargo noted the claws extending then retracting as Ton visibly calmed himself. Canis whined, then sniffed him with a tentative tail wag. Cattus sniffed, then licked his hand, tail twitching, then sat and yawned. “So far so good. Come on Captain, let’s walk slowly to the cabin.
They got about halfway there, the animals sniffing as they walked by, until Fargo saw what he recognized as the two matriarchs blocking their way. “Stop and hold your hand out again. These are the matriarchs. They are the alphas, if you have ever heard that term. They are the leaders of their respective packs.” The two matriarchs sniffed Ton'Skel, then licked Fargo, and he sensed them sending what he could only think of as greetings. As soon as they did that, all the wolves and mountain lions disappeared into the tree line.
Ton’Skel turned to him as Canis and Cattus padded behind them, “You control those… beasts?”
Fargo laughed ruefully, “Not even close. They tolerate me. These two,” he pointed to Canis and Cattus, “And one more, a bear are bonded to me mentally.”
Once they got inside, Fargo gave Ton a big mug of water and looked at Jace, “You want to tell me what’s going on?
Jace shrugged. “How about a message from Ser’Mose.” He handed a data cube to Fargo and pointed to the e-tainment system.
Fargo plugged it in and sat down, watching Ton out of the corner of his eyes. Basically, Ser’Mose was requesting asylum for Ton’Skel for three months, after three attempts on the Dragoon embassy on Star Center. He said that there was no other place where he believed Ton would be safe, and the reason he was asking, was that Fargo had demonstrated he was a man of honor.
Fargo looked at Ton, “Are you willing to do this?”
Ton stood and faced Fargo, “I Ton’Skel, heir of Ton’Mose do give my parole. I… do not wish to impose, but I…”
“Ton, sit down. This is not going to be easy, but we will work this out. Having to keep you hidden will not be easy, nor will it be fun for you.”
“My uncle has agreed to pay you, Captain Jace has that payment.”
Fargo shook his head. “I don’t want your credits. I don’t need them. What I need is for you to be willing to do what I tell you. Will you agree to that? It will be lonely here.”
Ton nodded. “Lonely and alive is good. I will do as you say.”
Fargo leaned back, Now what the hell do I do? I’ve got the heir to the entire Dragoon hierarchy sitting here, and we’re at war. Damn you to seven hells, Ser’Mose, damn you…
About the Author-
JL Curtis was born in Louisiana in 1951 and was raised in the Ark-La-Tex area. He began his education with guns at age eight with a SAA and a Grandfather that had carried one for ‘work’. He began competitive shooting in the 1970s, an interest he still pursues, time permitting. He is a retired Naval Flight Officer, having spent 22 years serving his country, an NRA instructor, and a retired engineer who escaped the defense industry. He lives in North Texas and is now writing full time.
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