If he closed his eyes and cleared his mind, he could remember the sensation with far more clarity than a memory. But it flitted on the periphery of his awareness, tantalizingly close yet forever beyond his grasp.
Wind rustles a sea of grasses.
Each stalk bows in submission, yielding to the wind’s will.
A splash of water escapes a creek to moisten the shore.
Roots harbored in the soil reach out, yearning for the nourishment the water brings.
With a sigh he mentally retreated from the trance and reopened his eyes. It wasn’t healthy to spend too much time lost in what was, at its core, little more than an enticing drug.
Seeking a distraction until the lingering vestiges faded, he spun his chair to face the best distraction there was. After watching her for a minute, he reached over to trace fingertips along the hollow beneath her cheekbone.
A corner of Alex’s mouth twitched. Her voice was a wispy, dreamy whisper. “I feel you….”
“Good.” He stood, placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead and left the cockpit. They had another twenty minutes or so before they would reach the system pointed to by the TLF wave, and he had things to do.
“I’m not seeing any evidence of technology, or any artificial energy generation whatsoever, but sensors are picking up massive life readings on the third planet.”
No advanced civilization meant no urgency, so Caleb sipped on his coffee. “Not very encouraging. We’re not likely to learn much from animals or primitives.”
“No, though we can at least check out what kind of creation the Metigens are playing with this time.” Alex guided the Siyane into low-altitude orbit around the planet, a small but typical terrestrial garden world. “Time to send a probe down and see what we can see.”
He propped against the cockpit half-wall to watch the vid feed from the probe.
It descended through the atmosphere and broke beneath light cloud-cover to reveal a rocky but lush terrain. Weathered, tree-covered mountains dominated the landscape. The climate was warm but not tropical, and the sensor on the probe returned a temperature of 22° C.
The probe was descending to an altitude of two kilometers when a bright glimmer of light briefly flickered in the bottom left corner of the feed.
He straightened up. “Did you see that?”
“I did.” Alex’s hands moved to the dash. “Taking manual control.”
Under her guidance, the probe arced toward where the flash had originated. Nothing could be discerned at first—then another flash, like a sun’s ray catching a mirror. “There it is again.”
It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but the source was a broad ledge bereft of trees. She zoomed the camera in closer, set the probe to hover and came to stand next to him. Together they silently considered the feed.
Sunlight danced off the metallic scales of the two dragons stretched out on the ledge, curled up next to one another in apparent slumber. Crimson and gold in color, they bore a striking resemblance to the dragons that had attacked them on Portal Prime.
One of the dragons lazily raised its head to gaze around. It exhaled, sending smoky flames pouring out from its jaws, then rested its head on the shoulder of its companion.
Alex canted her head to the side.
They weren’t clones. The one that had stirred bore scales of gold-tinged rust—Caleb shuddered as he recalled exactly how sharp those scales were—in contrast to the blazing crimson of its companion. It also had a wider, larger jaw. But there was no question they shared ancestry with or had served as the models for the dragons on Portal Prime.
Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. His brow knotted.
Movement in the air above signaled the arrival of two more dragons. Far smaller in size, they alighted onto the ledge and tottered over toward…their parents?
One bumped into the other; the second one responded by hissing out weak, pale-yellow flames and clawing in its sibling’s direction. A low, rumbling growl from one of the resting dragons brought a premature halt to the squabble.
Alex began chewing on her bottom lip.
The dragon on the left climbed to its feet and stretched, revealing a long, sinewy neck and a massive, heavily muscled chest. It extended its wings until they spanned some twenty meters and with a single downstroke took flight.
Caleb tilted his head gamely at Alex. “Skip it?”
“Skip it.”
PART III:
HEROES & VILLAINS
“Cause I'd rather stay here
With all the madmen
Than perish with the sadmen roaming free
And I'd rather play here
With all the madmen
For I'm quite content they're all as sane
As me”
— David Bowie
Portal: Aurora
(Milky Way)
15
ROMANE
Independent Colony
* * *
The rotating hologram took up the entire warehouse. 1:1 scale tended to do that when one was talking about a commercial transport-class vessel.
This wasn’t any normal vessel, however. Designed from the ground up to take advantage of an adiamene hull and advanced quantum computing operation, it didn’t need to obey the old rules.
The transport boasted twenty-three percent more personal cabins than civilian ships its size, yet the cabins were between sixteen and twenty-eight percent larger than standard in the industry and had unprecedented per-rental customization options. It also included four conference rooms with state-of-the-art data presentation capabilities.
Most impressive, though? A person could press any one of several thousand pressure points spaced every few meters in the walls and gain access to controllable floating screens. Once activated, the person was able to communicate with the quantum circuitry embedded in the walls to display and interact with the screen in almost any practicable way.
And the cockpit. The cockpit was impressive, too. Stunning, really.
The standard pilot chair had been replaced by a mag-lev flex-chair, allowing the pilot to sit, stand or anywhere in between. A wireless sensor in the headrest interfaced with the pilot’s eVi for up to two meters of distance, giving the pilot mental as well as physical command of the controls. The HUD and all virtual modules surrounded the pilot, instead of being tethered to the dash, and operated under the pilot’s complete control.
The addition of a copilot to the setup was as easy as raising an additional flex-chair from where it was stored beneath the floor. The pilot and copilot could split, share and trade off all functions on the fly.
As a bonus, the ship was light. Less than thirty percent the tonnage of current-gen ships its size. Oh, and fast. Also agile.
“Damn. It’s gorgeous, honey.”
That too. Kennedy flashed a smile over her shoulder at Noah as he approached. “Isn’t it, though?”
“Good news. As of twenty minutes ago, you’ve got the power components for it—for all the ships.”
“I do? Dynamis signed?”
“They did.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Cost plus seven percent, guaranteed supply of up to five hundred units a month.”
“You’re fantastic.” She placed a full kiss on his lips.
“And not just in bed, right?”
“Not just. Now all we need is a contract for the complete range of impulse engines. Avion Transit has its own lined up for this ship, but it doesn’t help the next customer.”
“Michani Ormi drives fill your need?”
“Are you kidding? The new Ano Elite model is a work of art.”
“Only you would call an engine a work of art.”
She gave him a mock pout. “Hey, I see what I see. But they don’t mass-produce and have a very exclusive, very expensive client list.”
“Not any longer. They’ve agreed to build engines for the Independent Defense Consortium ships, so there’s half your customers’ needs met. Since you’re designing the new fi
ghters for the IDCC, they’ll need to consult with you on specs. And since you’ll be working together to help create this new force, goodwill is bound to ensue.”
“Outstanding.” She squinted at the ship holo. “I’m meeting Morgan later this afternoon to tweak a few details on the fighter design now that she’s put the prototype through the paces. We should grab lunch out—to celebrate all the wonderful things that have happened today so far.”
He nodded in agreement. “Food is good. And frankly, I’ve already done a full day’s work. Revelry suits me fine.”
It was still here, still open and thriving.
Kennedy’s gaze swept over their surroundings as she led Noah out to the restaurant’s patio and chose what might be the same table.
He eyed her curiously as he sat. “You’re acting even more pleased with yourself than usual. What’s up?”
After they placed drink orders, she crossed her legs and relaxed in the chair. “Alex and I had dinner at this restaurant…it must have been nine years ago. It was the day she took delivery of the Siyane from IS Design. We flew it here for a test flight—and for shopping, obviously. Alex had quit her job at Pacifica Aerodynamics to go freelance. She had no money and no clients, and she was utterly fearless.”
She exhaled softly. “Sitting here then, I never imagined I’d one day find myself in much the same place…and now I think she had to have been secretly terrified. But she did it anyway, because she believed her life was hers to make what she would of it. And she was right.”
He studied her carefully. “Are you sorry you did this?”
“No.” She reached across the table and grasped his hand. “I’m not. I have clients now, and I have money—a little. Enough. I have a plan and a path forward. But I couldn’t have done it without you. I would have run home to daddy and begged to be let back into the fold the first time something went wrong.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. You’re far more of a warrior than you give yourself credit for.”
A warrior, her? She giggled faintly, but it quickly faltered; the notion was preposterous. “Yes, Noah, I would have. If I’m strong, it’s because of you.”
“I….” He squirmed uncomfortably under the weight of the praise, which was so adorable. When he tried again, his voice was warm with affection. “Anything I’ve done is merely reflected glory. You make me want to be better—better than I was, better than I am.”
She knew how hard it remained for him to be so brutally honest, to leave himself open to being hurt—which she hoped like hell she never bungled into doing.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for lunch to devolve into us baring our souls. I had been thinking about that day with Alex lately for evident reasons, and…” she took in the blooming alyssi overflowing hanging baskets and sill boxes “…there’s a certain symmetry to being back here now.”
His gentle smile soon broke into a chuckle. “Granted, but is the food any good?”
“I mainly remember the cheesecake. It was divine.”
They were finishing a delicious meal of char sui pork and fried noodles when Noah’s gaze locked on a young woman walking behind them on the sidewalk. He stared at her as she passed, brow furrowing.
Kennedy didn’t mind him appreciating the occasional attractive passerby; considering how often she did the same, she understood well what it did and didn’t mean. But this stare was something different from simple appreciation.
“Give me a second.” He stood and vaulted over the wrought-iron railing, leaving her sitting there perplexed.
She watched as he caught up to the woman and touched her on the arm. The woman whipped around with such violence Kennedy briefly worried she was getting ready to put Noah in a headlock. He raised his hands in surrender and took half a step away. The woman relaxed, and they spoke for a minute.
Then Noah gestured her inside the restaurant. A few seconds later they appeared at the table.
“This is Captain—sorry, former Captain—Brooklyn Harper. Harper, Kennedy Rossi.”
She knew the name—the Marine who had helped Noah and Caleb take out General O’Connell on Krysk. Kennedy donned her most charming visage. “A pleasure. Please, join us.”
The woman’s face was devoid of any notable emotion as she nodded. “I suppose I can spare a few minutes.”
She was attractive enough, if somewhat severe of countenance, with blonde hair tied in a loose tail slung over one shoulder. She wore a plain heather long-sleeved tee and navy pants but no jacket, despite the chill in the air.
“So what brings you to Romane?”
“I’m running security for Soma Biosynth—a job which has gotten more interesting than I was expecting due to the recent increase in OTS terrorist attacks. They haven’t suffered any yet, but they expect to be a target.”
“No doubt. You left the military after the end of the Metigen War?”
“Yep.” The woman glanced at Noah a bit wryly but didn’t elaborate.
He cleared his throat. “Understandable, after everything that asshole O’Connell did.”
“Not only him, but…so what about you two?” The question was delivered stiltedly, as if she wasn’t accustomed to making small talk. Not surprising; it presumably wasn’t covered in spec ops training.
Noah filled her in on the highlights while Kennedy sipped on her drink and idly observed them. Brooklyn Harper was military through-and-through, from the way her eyes were constantly taking in her environment and everyone who passed through it, to how she held herself with coiled tension in the chair and how her expression revealed nothing about her thoughts. Noah had said she was tough. Seeing her, it wasn’t difficult to believe.
Perhaps realizing she had been monopolizing Noah’s attention, the woman shifted toward Kennedy and made a solid effort at a smile. “I suppose we have something in common, then—walking away from the Alliance, I mean.”
Part of her still flinched at hearing it stated so bluntly, but she hid any vestige of the reaction. “It seems that’s true.” She sent a pulse to Noah.
I think Ms. Harper needs to meet Morgan yesterday.
His eyes lit up as if to say brilliant!
Kennedy learned forward. “Tell me, former Captain Harper, are you finding the Soma gig fulfilling? Professionally speaking.”
“It’s not in-the-trenches urban warfare. Not most days, anyway. But it keeps me occupied. Why do you ask?”
“Might you be interested in more challenging work? And potentially more rewarding?”
Harper’s focus veered from Kennedy to Noah and back again. If possible, her expression became yet harder to read. “What does that mean? I don’t care for games.”
Oh, yes. She and Morgan would get along just fine.
Noah watched Harper depart, then turned around to find Kennedy regarding him with a deadpan expression.
He met it with a mask of innocence. It held for several seconds before he broke down with a roll of his eyes. “Sorry. Still a guy.”
“Sure. Look all you want.” She took a bite of dessert to keep from laughing.
“What?”
“You’re not her type.”
“I get it. I’m not a straight-laced soldier boy—which doesn’t matter, because I’m not looking. I mean I was looking, but only to look. I’m not looking.” He groaned and sank down in the chair, hands covering his face.
“Not what I meant, but good.” She was better versed than many in dating and mating rituals, having engaged in them enthusiastically for many years. Most women all but swooned at Noah’s feet on meeting him, but Harper hadn’t regarded him with anything beyond detached interest. She had appraised Kennedy in a different, if subtle, manner.
Eventually she took pity on him and decided to rescue him from his misery. She stood and offered him a hand. “Come on, Casanova, it’s time to get back to work. You can make your egregious relationship transgression up to me tonight.”
His face relaxed in evident relief. “And I will. In all the ways.”
She
swallowed an aroused murmur of delight. Of this, she had no doubt.
The door Brooklyn had been directed to by the front desk clerk was open. She took a moment to stand outside and size up its contents.
A woman stood with her back to the doorway studying two screens above a conference table. Two men sat at the table watching the woman’s every move. Retired military by the look of them, weary and grizzled but making an effort at rigid postures.
“So neither of you fought in the Metigen War or the Second Crux War. Did you fight in any war? Some little regional scuffle, perhaps?”
The man on the left eked out a hesitant response. “I flew in the First Crux War.”
“Which side—no, don’t answer that. I don’t give a shit. What I do give a shit about is this. If you were ordered to do it, could you fire on military forces from whichever side you served on in the First Crux War?”
“If they were threatening innocent civilians, yes.”
“See, this is the problem here. We’re not running a ‘real’ military, thus everyone thinks they don’t really have to follow orders without asking for clarification and context first.”
The tenor of the woman’s voice had changed, and it occurred to Brooklyn the woman might be speaking to her, despite the fact she hadn’t announced her presence in any way and both the men were too flustered to have noticed her.
The suspicion was confirmed when the woman casually gazed over her shoulder with an appraising—and startlingly bright amethyst—eye.
“Marine. Interesting.”
“Fighter jock. Less interesting.”
“Can’t help it if Marines get jealous. Alliance? Obviously Alliance. You’d be the one Terrage mentioned, then.”
She didn’t suppress a smirk. “Commander Lekkas, I assume. To answer your questions: yes, yes and yes—so long as I’m the one giving the order.”
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