Dremiks

by Cassandra Davis

  With a sigh equal parts exasperation and resignation, Maggie finally said, “He’s the Vice Chancellor of the colonies. Starting a fight with him would certainly be counter-productive. And,” she shifted in her chair. “He’s your brother.”

  Brett’s carefully maintained veneer of emotional implacability slipped. He leaned forward in his chair. “What did he say to you?”

  Maggie blushed from her exposed collarbone to her hairline. She hoped the flickering light hid her embarrassment. “Nothing important. If I had to guess, I’d say he was drunk.”

  Brett coughed. He didn’t believe her for a minute. “Well, if he tries that stunt again, please feel free to deck him.” Her responding grin lightened the captain’s mood. He chewed on the grape and poured himself some water. The lanterns in the four corners of the room popped and sputtered, casting a flickering glow like candlelight. The sounds of the colony abated with the lateness of the hour. Outside the Quonset hut, it was quiet. After a wretchedly busy day of touring the colony, loading the lander with all the equipment Dr. Ruger deemed necessary for the delivery of Marissa’s baby, and dealing with Chancellor Trell, the captain was happy to sit and enjoy the peace. The regular meteor showers would keep them on the planet for the rest of the night. They had a few more hours of tense waiting and jumping at shadows before they could return to the Hudson. He watched Commander O’Connell lean her chair back on two legs.

  The soft lighting in the room smoothed the ridges of muscle and bone in Maggie’s features. Dressed as she was in a tank top and loose fitting trousers, she should have appeared slovenly or underdressed. Instead, she appeared relaxed and confident; the clothes hung naturally on her like a second skin. A few strands of hair escaped her bun, as usual, to curl around her ears and down her neck. Shadows wrapped around her bare collarbone and teased along her jaw line. She tucked one leg beneath her and leaned an elbow on the table.

  “Except for the inevitable confrontation with Trell, the rest of your afternoon was ok?” O’Connell asked, breaking the silence. She had been growing uncomfortable with her own thoughts—thoughts that kept coming back to what the younger Hill brother had been trying to say to her.

  Captain Hill scowled. “I spent most of the day with Trell and yelling at Marissa. I’m sorry I missed dinner. What kept you occupied?” He closed his eyes while he waited for her answer. Most of the day spent squinting into the bright light of Dremiks had given him a headache that was just beginning to subside.

  “Cassie showed me around her hospital area, when she wasn’t ordering me to fetch another ridiculously heavy box to put on the lander. She’s an odd one.” Maggie took a long swallow of water. “She sees hope for this place.”

  “Well, she would, wouldn’t she? She’ll go with us when we take Marissa up, tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but she’ll want to return here after the birth. There are a few med-techs that would serve as competent stand-in’s on our return journey to Earth. I’m sure the ISA will assign a new one when we get home. I doubt they’ll leave the crew intact, anyway.”

  The captain opened his eyes. “I don’t think you have much to worry about, Commander, considering that there will only be a few pilots in the entire fleet with experience landing in the Dremikian atmosphere.”

  “That’s precisely why they’ll assign me right back to teaching flight school. And you, sir? What are your plans?”

  The flickering light caught the thin line Brett’s lips made when he compressed them. “I’ll go where they tell me.” He paused and Maggie caught a gleam of what she was sure was defiance in his eyes. “But I intend to give them a great deal to think about before then.”

  She lifted her water glass in salute. “To thought provoking deeds.”

  Brett barked a laugh. “To defiance and duty—may the best ideal win.”

  Chapter 30

  Cassie splashed cold water on her face and rubbed her eyes. She deftly re-braided her hair, letting the braids slacken so they didn’t tug at her scalp during the night. Her loose fitting tunic and slacks had already been traded for a soft cotton robe.

  Leaving the bathroom, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. Ben Fortunas stretched out on the couch. His eyes were closed, but she knew from the way he was breathing that he was not engaged in one of his famous cat naps. Knowing Ben, he was likely reviewing an obscure theorem in his head. The metal floor of the pre-fabricated hut was cold on her feet as she padded across the room. She reached the couch and stood staring down at him. Before she could speak, and without opening his eyes, the chief scientist reached out with one hand and pulled her down beside him.

  “Care to tell me what had you all worked up when you stormed in here?” His fingers traced idle circles at the nape of her neck. Brushing his lips along her hairline, he felt her sigh. She snuggled closer before answering.

  “Ryan Hill was trying to pick a fight. He deliberately attacked me to provoke Maggie. I could swear he’s developed a grudge against her.”

  Ben thought of the captain’s younger brother and his propensity for violent outbursts, arrogance, and womanizing. “I doubt it’s just O’Connell he’s after. Things haven’t exactly been going his way of late.”

  Cassie shook her head. She curled her bare toes against Ben’s ankles and shifted her weight. “That’s not it. He barely blinked when we found the colony in such a bad state, and when we announced just how dire the situation was down here, he almost seemed elated. It was when the captain took the Hudson to Kigva…”

  “And lied about it to everyone but us,” Dr. Fortunas interjected.

  “Yes. That was when Ryan got really angry and started acting so aggressively towards the military crew. In the few hours they’ve been back, it’s as if he’s purposely trying to rile the captain and Maggie.”

  “So did they come to blows or did she retreat with you?”

  “I left him yelling at her. I refuse to be bullied by him.” She pushed herself up to lean on an elbow. “Do you think I shouldn’t have left her alone with him?”

  Ben reached up and smoothed the pad of his thumb across her coffee colored cheek bone. “I think Margaret O’Connell can take Ryan Hill.”

  Cassie, reassured, grinned and leaned down to kiss him. Pulling away, she laid her head back against his shoulder. “Anyway, I passed the captain on my way out. I’m sure he put an end to whatever argument they got into.”

  Ben chuckled. “You should have been more concerned at leaving Maggie with the elder Hill brother.”

  “Oh?”

  “Liebchen, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the changed dynamic between the two of them?”

  Confused, Cassie propped herself up once more to look at her lover’s face. He could tell by her expression that she had not noticed the changed manner between the captain and the commander. “Darling, let’s just say that the captain and O’Connell have agreed to a truce in their personal little war.”

  With a snort of disgust, she rolled her eyes and stood up. “You’re an irritating, obtuse, dirty-minded, old man who speaks in riddles.” She reached down to take his hand and give it a sharp tug. “Come to bed.”

  Commander O’Connell walked in the door of the hut in time to see Dr. Fortunas following Dr. Ruger into the bedroom. Feeling completely adrift after a day of surprises, she stood for a minute and simply gaped at the closing door. She backed slowly out of the hut and latched the door behind her.

  She meandered back to the medical station to grab a blanket and her flight gear. Yawning with exhaustion, she slid out the north station door and trudged the few steps to the lander. Once inside, she set the door locks, stripped out of her trousers and into the running shorts she wore under her flight suit. The bench seats in the back of the lander were narrow, but looked marginally more comfortable than the titanium deck plating.

  ***

  The captain found her there the next morning. He rapped his knuckles on the hatch and stepped back. When O’Connell popped the door open she rubbed her eyes wit
h one hand and her shoulder with the other.

  “Good morning. Care for a run?” The captain’s tone was cheery.

  Disoriented and feeling every minute of sleep spent on the narrow hard bench of the lander, O’Connell could only blink down at her captain.

  “Sir?”

  “A run, Commander.” There was a hint of laughter in his tone. He lazily surveyed her disheveled state. “It might wake you up. And you are still dressed for it, I see.”

  Every sinew of her body screamed in protest. O’Connell ran her tongue over her teeth and grimaced. “Right. Ok, sir.” Bending her knees to hop down to the ground, she jerked in surprise when the captain’s hands closed around her waist. He lifted her up, and swung her to the ground.

  Feeling her tense, Brett stepped back. “Stretch,” he ordered. Catching her confused glance, he shrugged. “I stretched before I came looking for you. I wanted to catch you before we returned to the Hudson.” He paused to watch her stretch her legs. “Imagine my surprise to find Doctor Fortunas in your quarters along with the news that you hadn’t slept in your bed.” He kept his tone casually conversational, but watched her closely.

  Maggie had her arms extended over her head, fingers locked, arching to stretch her back and shoulders. Freezing mid-stretch, she shot a concerned look at her commanding officer. “I assure you, sir, I was here all night.”

  Brett pushed off from the wing he’d been leaning against and stepped to within a foot of her. For one minute he just stared at her, holding her gaze. He fought back a smile as a slow blush spread up her neck and over her high cheekbones. “I never had any doubts.”

  The silence between them lasted until O’Connell ducked her head to cough and shuffled her feet uncomfortably. Hill glanced up at the sky and down at his chronometer.

  “Let’s go before the dust gets worse.” He led the way around the outer circumference of the dome. After the first fifty meters, they both found their natural pace and adopted an easy rhythm. The highly oxygenated air of Dremiks made for an easy workout. Hill dodged around a rocky outcropping.

  “You knew about Ruger and Fortunas?”

  O’Connell swiped at a straggling curl sliding across her neck. “Not until last night. I guess Cassie assumed I was returning to Hudson and didn’t expect me back. I kind of walked in on them. What did Fortunas say when he answered the door?”

  “He assumed you spent the night with me.”

  Long years of physical training, including thousands of kilometers of jogging, meant Maggie didn’t need to think to run. That training saved her from falling flat on her face when her mind blanked with shock. Her red head snapped sideways.

  His lips parted in a sly grin. “He assumed you spent the night flying me back to the Hudson.”

  Brett knew that Fortunas assumed no such thing. The white haired scientist had offered him a cup of coffee while commenting that, although O’Connell had not returned to her quarters that evening, he’d not been concerned. Dr. Ruger had, after all, left her roommate in the captain’s company. Brett recalled the older man’s frank gaze over the rim of his mug. The scientist’s assumption had startled the captain. But, and he knew he was going to have to engage in some serious soul searching over this realization, it had also pleased him.

  As if to out-run his thoughts, the captain increased his pace. “Fortunas was in no position to be commenting, given where he spent the night.”

  Maggie’s brain buzzed with confusing thoughts even as her muscles lost their cramped tightness. She tried to change the subject. “You still want to move the orbit, today?”

  “Yes.” He ran for another meter before saying, “We know that the particulate cloud around Najif interferes with all radio and light communications. I would like to see how Ryan and Trell respond to losing contact with us, again. Ryan’s reaction to the news that we were moving Marissa back to the ship was telling.”

  The wind picked up, howling out of the east. Dust swirled around their knees in blue wisps, occasionally lifting into their faces. Brett coughed and moved to place himself between the gale and O’Connell. She noted the protective gesture and shook her head in exasperation. The captain was by no means large enough to protect her from the wind.

  “We’d better pick up the pace!”

  O’Connell heard him yell and turned her head to ask what he’d said. A bright orange light flashed over Hill’s left shoulder. The silvery cylinder of an aerial mine arced toward them. She hooked her arm around the captain’s shoulders and pulled him to the ground. The mine exploded in the air above them, causing a fireball that sucked away the surrounding air and sound. Fractions of a second later the superheated air slammed down on top of them, followed by burning sand.

  Hill jerked his head up and spit the sand out of his mouth. His ears rang. He was disoriented and not aware of much more than O’Connell lying prone across his back. O’Connell could feel bits of sand burning the back of her bare calves. She couldn’t decide if the humming noise in her head was the wind or the after-effects of the explosion. After wiggling her fingers and toes to make sure she was relatively unharmed, she rolled off the captain and turned him face up.

  “What the hell was that?” He shouted the question.

  She took that as an indication that he was still in control of his lungs and mental facilities.

  “Aerial mine. No idea where it came from!” She coughed and spit to rid her own mouth of grit. Before she could say anything else, another mine popped up from the ground. Reacting from instinct alone, Maggie tugged on the captain’s prone form. They tripped and rolled from the new danger.

  A third canister of death emerged from the sand practically at Brett’s foot. He shocked them both by slapping at the airborne mine with his open palm. Through some act of cosmic mercy, the mine didn’t explode immediately. It flipped end over end away from them before detonating. It was distant enough not to kill them, but the blast still knocked them flat.

  Maggie struggled to her feet and motioned to a slight indention on the wall of the dome. It appeared to be an unused entranceway. They stumbled into the alcove. Brett keyed his communicator, but his ears were still ringing, making it nearly impossible to hear anything. He wanted to stop and think about who had launched mines at them, and how it had been orchestrated, but his head hurt too much. Looking down at Maggie, he suddenly jerked her left elbow into the air.

  “You’re bleeding!” He ran his hand along her ribs where a sticky residue stuck to her shirt.

  She looked down in confusion. “I am?” She pulled the captain’s probing hand away to look closer. “It’s not me.” Horror replaced confusion. Without warning she forcefully pushed the captain around, effectively shoving his face into the corner. Brett’s shirt was burned completely through in sections. There was a deep cut mark, halfway down the left side of his back. Maggie lightly probed the wound and heard Brett curse. He tried to turn around, but she pushed on his neck. “Hold still, damn you.”

  “Excuse me?” His offended tone had no effect on her as she slid her hands over his arms, ribs, and back. He sucked in his breath, which hurt, when she ran her hands over his hips and down his legs. “Okay!” He pivoted, grasped her upper arms and hauled her upright. “I think that’s enough triage.”

  Maggie snorted. She ignored his disgruntled look. “You also thought I was the one bleeding.” Before he could respond she raised her wrist and tapped an emergency beacon into action.

  “Commander? State your emergency?”

  “Price, we’ve had a small mishap here and need immediate medical care. Please have someone open the small door on section 57-A of the dome. Storm is moving in and—”

  “Repeat your last. A storm has moved into your location. Communications are compromised.”

  Maggie was standing so close to Brett that she heard him mutter, “Storms are the least of our worries,” beside her ear.

  “Price, contact Ruger and have her prepared for triage. Have someone open the dome hatchway at my location.”


  “Roger.”

  A gust of wind swirled into the alcove, kicking up the sand. Maggie coughed. Brett pulled her head into his shoulder in an unconscious gesture of protection.

  “You’re a closet chauvinist, sir,” said the muffled voice from his shoulder.

  He chuckled before gasping at the resulting pain in his back. He let go of her neck but showed her the blood on his palm. “I think this is yours.” He pulled her head sideways to examine a long scratch.

  “Nicks and cuts, Cap’n.”

  He didn’t miss the sudden tension in her neck and shoulders. “You’re a lot of damned trouble, Maggie.” He didn’t mean the complaint to come out quite so husky. He felt a shudder run down her back. Before either could respond further, the door behind them popped open.

  Dr. Ruger awaited them in the medical office. “What happened?”

  O’Connell tugged on the captain’s arm, trying to lead him to the treatment area. “Aerial mines. Captain has a shrapnel wound, lower left quadrant of his back. Need it treated, ASAP. Then we’re getting the hell out of here, whether you’re ready or not.”

  In front of an examining table, Brett dug in his heels and pulled his arm out of Maggie’s grasp. “I’ve had about enough of you dragging me about and making free with my body.” He lowered his head when speaking so that his nose almost touched Maggie’s forehead. While she gaped at him in shock, he grabbed her waist, picked her up, and sat her on the examining table.

  “Speaking of making free,” she hissed at him.

  Brett didn’t respond. He stood there, staring at her face, hands resting on her hip bones. She dropped her gaze. His fingers flexed, briefly squeezing, before he let go and backed away.

  Dr. Ruger watched this interaction with a touch of impatience. “Let’s cut that shirt off her, Johnson. We’ll have to micro-debride the wound.” She pointed to another examining table. “Captain, over there, please. I’ll be with you in a minute.” She yanked a curtain closed around the table where O’Connell sat. “Johnson will check you over and treat those abrasions. You’re sure all of the blood is the captain’s?”