Sean Dalton - Operation StarHawks 03 - Beyond the Void

by Sean Dalton - [Operation StarHawks 03]

  The image blanked, returning to a bar filled with gritty smoke and flickering holos at every table, according to the customer’s fancy. A bar on the down side of town, unrestricted, filled with dangerous types that watched for the entrance of the unwary. He sat, absorbing the fear scents of the skinny, mud-colored informer beside him while Ultan made the deal in the back room. It was his job to guard the door to that room. He sat, his chair tilted back so that his head touched the wall. A heavy pulse cannon lay across his thighs. His finger curled negligently around the trigger. He had no feelings. He simply watched, knowing that if Ultan made the deal they would have work. And work meant the chance to die for money.

  “41,” whispered Kelly, wanting to back away from that terrible loneliness that was like acid in the soul. He did not want to share such emptiness.

  Another image came from 41: the pool, racing through water as warm as silk, laughter in his soul.

  “Kel-lee.”

  41’s voice snapped the link. Ouoji’s paw dropped. Kelly’s eyes opened. He stared at 41 ’s face anxiously, hoping this had been enough. Ouoji unwound her tail from about 41’s throat and jumped off his chest. Kelly took his hand, willing 41 to open his eyes and know him once again.

  “41, Maon is dead,” he said. “It can’t hurt you again. You’re safe. You’re home with us. 41, this is Kelly. I’m here with you. I’m here.”

  41’s eyes flickered open. They were dull, tired, but they focused upon Kelly’s face. Awareness filled them, and Kelly could not breathe for fear the moment would fail. 41 searched his face, then he frowned. Kelly saw the pain of remembrance come. His grip tightened upon 41 ’s hand.

  “Maon is dead. It’s gone from you.”

  “Kel-lee.”

  “Yes?”

  “I could not ... fight it.”

  “But you did fight it,” said Kelly gently. “You kept Maon from killing the rest of us. You distracted it and gave us the chance to defeat it. You did well, 41. You did very well.”

  A faint gleam lit 41’s eyes for a moment. He seemed almost to smile. “I’m ... tired.”

  “Sleep,” said Kelly. “It’s safe to sleep. You’re home.”

  “Does not smell like ... home.”

  Kelly wondered if he meant Station 4 or the nameless world of the Old Ones. Kelly smiled, caught somewhere between a laugh and tears of relief.

  “You’re home, whether it smells like it or not. Trust me.”

  “I trust you, Kelly.” 41 mumbled something else and let his eyes fall closed.

  Kelly gathered him up and managed to carry him back to his bunk. He spread the blanket over him and watched him sleep for a moment. Fatigue dragged at Kelly’s mind. He glanced at Ouoji and at that moment there was nothing he wouldn’t have done for her.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  She chittered smugly and butted his leg with her head. Do not tell the others about me.

  Kelly met her gaze. “I won’t,” he promised.

  Still, it was not a homecoming to celebrate. He had his squad although Caesar clung to life by a stubborn thread, 41 looked too fragile to touch, Phila ached inside the hell of guilt, and Siggerson would probably quit the Hawks as soon as they returned to base. They had gone out unprepared; their return was a miracle.

  The admiral and over two thousand crew and officers, however, would have no homecoming save a memorial.

  Kelly bowed his head.

  “Kelly,” said Beaulieu’s deep voice.

  He started and looked away, keeping his face averted until he had control of his emotions once again. Then he turned to her and blinked, stunned at the sight of his father standing in the doorway beside her.

  Kelly took a half step forward. “Dad.”

  His joy bubbled up, only to choke in his throat. He stood locked in place, unable to go to him, unable to accept the idea that death could be cheated.

  The admiral stood there wrapped in a silver thermal blanket, naked otherwise. His gray hair was rumpled and damp, curling as though he had just stepped from his bath. His skin glowed a soft, pearly pink. The pink of new skin, baby skin.

  Fresh from the vat.

  Kelly’s throat swelled. He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump. He couldn’t stand this, couldn’t stand looking at him and wanting to run to his father’s arms to feel the warm solidity of his father’s body against his. He couldn’t stand knowing that his father’s—no, this copy’s—mind was as blank as an unused data tape.

  “Son?”

  Kelly flinched at that voice. The tone was exactly right: rueful, slightly amused, warm.

  “Aren’t you going to give the old man a hug?”

  Kelly shook his head, not in refusal but in denial. Yet the copy’s blue eyes were keen, intelligent, aware. Not blank. A sudden hope ballooned in Kelly so fast it hurt.

  He glanced at Beaulieu. She looked smug.

  “First batch finished and out, dripping tracks all over the place,” she said. “I never thought the process would be this fast. I forgot all about collecting clothing. I guess they’ll have to raid the destroyers in their birthday suits. Which perhaps is appropriate. The admiral, however, insisted on a blanket.”

  “Dignity of the rank,” said the copy.

  Only he wasn’t just a copy. Kelly couldn’t keep holding the comparison in his mind. His father was back, just as though he’d never left.

  “Dad,” he whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. “Dad.”

  “That’s right,” said the admiral. “Oh, I’m missing a few scars here and there but otherwise I’m just about the same. Your mother won’t mind, I daresay, unless she decides I have younger skin than hers. Maybe we can open a spa and make a fortune to supplement our military pensions. Think so?”

  Kelly laughed. He rushed forward and embraced the old man hard. The admiral squeezed him back and thumped him on the shoulder. When they parted, both of them were misty in the eyes.

  “I’m glad,” Kelly said, too choked up to say what he really meant. “I’m just glad.”

  Beaulieu cleared her throat. “Well, Commander. You’re welcome.”

  Kelly went to her and kissed her cheek, making her chocolate skin flush darker. “Thank you,” he said. “I guess I was wrong.”

  She smiled and slipped something into his hand. Its label marked it as Visci DNA. Kelly frowned and put it in his pocket. Not total extinction, after all, for Maon’s kind. Someday, perhaps humans could face the Visci again.

  Beaulieu went to check on her patients, leaving Kelly and the admiral alone.

  They stood there in awkward silence. “Dad,” began Kelly at last. “I didn’t want to try the ... oh, hell. Do you know what happened to you?”

  “Do you mean am I aware that my original self is dead and that I’m a copy?” said the admiral in a tone that put shivers through Kelly. “Yes, son. I am.”

  Kelly looked away, wishing he’d never brought it up. “How—how do you feel about it? I mean—”

  “I don’t know.” The admiral gazed into the distance, wondering, sober. “I suppose I ought to be afraid. I keep pinching myself to be sure I didn’t dream this. My mind tells me what happened, but I can’t emotionally believe it. I don’t feel any different. I don’t feel like a copy. I feel like I had a damned fine bath. That’s all.”

  Kelly drew a breath and made a decision. “Then let’s think of it as just that. You’re the same.”

  “I don’t know what the ramifications are of this technology,” said the admiral. “Moral and medical. Maybe this is a way to live forever. I don’t want to touch any of those questions with a ten-foot pole. I don’t want to tell Elizabeth or your brothers and sisters. I don’t want to see in their eyes the look that you first gave me.”

  Shame burned through Kelly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Son.” The admiral gripped his shoulder. “You’ve always been the least predictable of my children. Oh, Kevalyn is always getting herself into messes out of some stupid urge to defy me. But even that is as
predictable as a book. Drew is solid, like his mother. Nothing fazes him. Nothing fires him up, either. J.J. is all spunk and no stamina. But you, Bryan, you’ve carved your own path. You always have, although it’s cost you. I know what the others will do when they know the truth. But you’re the one I really have to face.”

  “Dad, I—”

  “We can’t keep it a secret forever. The Fleet will sit on this until they decide what to do with it. Then—”

  “You’re still my father,” said Kelly. “I’ve been around this galaxy enough times to see some pretty strange things. I can handle it ... if you can.”

  The admiral’s eyes got wet. “You mean that?”

  “I mean it,” said Kelly.

  The admiral put out his hand, and Kelly shook it. A smile touched his lips and widened.

  “Hell,” said the admiral, wiping his eyes. “You got a handkerchief?”

  The comm buzzed. Siggerson’s stubbled face showed on the screen. “Kelly, have you got things together yet? The Hoyt is getting impatient.”

  “Tell them to wait ten more minutes,” said Kelly.

  “How am I supposed to tell Fleet-Admiral Jedderson to wait?” asked Siggerson.

  “Be diplomatic,” said Kelly with a grin. “Have Phila assemble about three hundred robots at the central teleport grid. We may as well put on a show.”

  Siggerson raised his brows appreciatively. “I see. Do you want carriers or fighters?”

  “Make it half and half. We don’t want to scare the landing party with too large a force.”

  Siggerson turned to relay the order to Phila, then glanced back. “This wouldn’t be showing off in order to get us a new ship, would it, Kelly?”

  Kelly’s lips quirked. “What makes you think such a thing, Mr. Siggerson?”

  “Oh, just a rumor I heard once that Fleet-Admiral Jedderson is not easily impressed. And Commodore West is notoriously tight when it comes to replacing equipment. After all,” continued Siggerson, “I have my reenlistment to consider.”

  “I think that if we don’t get a new ship to replace the Valiant,” said Kelly, “we can probably just keep this one. Salvage rights are ours. Prize money if we want to sell her. My father has already suggested we open a spa. We could get Caesar to run the casino and—”

  “—41 to be the bouncer. Right,” said Siggerson dryly, but with a gleam in his eyes. “Let’s make it three hundred robots of each kind. They’ll fit if we teleport the landing party to the holding area where the prisoners were kept.”

  “Look, son,” broke in the admiral, “you run Jedderson and West through hoops if you want. But while I may be a little damp behind the ears I sure as blazes haven’t forgotten that you lost your ship saving my hide. The Valiant will be replaced. That’s a promise.”

  Siggerson’s whoop nearly shook the speaker. “I will never make insulting cracks about your having an admiral for a father again,” he said fervently.

  “Thank you,” said Kelly.

  “Me either,” chimed in Phila.

  “Thank you.”

  “Now,” said Siggerson eagerly, his fatigue dropping away. “What are your precise orders? Would you like the robots to put on maneuvers? We could rotate the City, or—”

  “Just bring the landing party over,” said Kelly nastily.

  “Whatever you say ... boss.”

  It took Kelly a moment to absorb what he’d said. He stared at Siggerson, who was smiling a bit defiantly, a bit shyly. Kelly knew then that never again would Siggerson be outside the team. He would probably continue to grumble and drive them all nuts with his fussy attention to details, but he was one of them now.

  “I’ll relay the teleport coordinates to the Hoyt now.”

  Kelly’s smile faded slightly. “Whoa! Let me shave first.”

  “And me!” said the admiral. “Damn! I’ve got to be in something besides a blanket if Jedderson’s here.”

  “You can borrow 41’s uniform,” said Beaulieu, returning. “It won’t fit very well, but—”

  “Yes, that will do,” said the admiral. “Wearing the wrong uniform is better than none at all. You may give my blanket to Captain Serula. Why you chose to put her in a batch with all men is beyond my understanding.”

  Beaulieu raised her brows while Kelly used a lab knife cautiously to scrape his chin. His ancestors must have been crazy to shave like this all the time. He nicked himself and swore.

  “Men,” said Beaulieu. “All vanity and very little sense of humor.”

  “Women,” retorted the admiral. “Far too smug and clever for their own good.”

  Beaulieu met Kelly’s gaze with a smile that held a question. “Satisfied, Commander? Will he do?”

  “He’ll do,” said Kelly, and smiled as he gave her a thumbs-up.

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  TK scanned and proofed. (v1.0) (html) Nov 2011.