*****
Fenaday and Rainhell stood at the same moment, exchanging a long glance. She seemed on the verge of saying something, then turned away.
*****
After the staff meeting Fenaday retired to his cabin. In fourteen hours, he would drop into Enshar’s atmosphere. He tried to read but could not concentrate. Sleep eluded him.
He paced in his cabin, the largest on board but still small. In one corner of the bedroom hung a beautiful photo of Lisa, taken soon after their marriage. He looked at it for several minutes. Sometimes, he could almost feel her presence in the room. Better media existed for such images. For a while, he had a holographic imager that would show her walking and talking from tapes they made. One day he caught himself talking to the image as if it were real. A pleasant little fantasy, he told himself, he’d only indulge himself for a few seconds. The holo played for hours before he recognized it as the first step in a descent into madness. Tonight, he looked, remembered and felt nothing. The picture remained just a picture on a wall. He was alone, and the room was too quiet.
“I’m never going to find you,” he said to the picture.
Fenaday fled the room. He began to walk the Sidhe’s corridors. The ship ran on night watch with its smallest crew. Torn between his desire to see people and the need not to be seen in this state, he drifted through the vessel. He dropped in on some stations pretending to be inspecting. He didn’t stay long or talk much. For a vessel that looked so big from the outside, Sidhe held few places to go. He stopped in the mess for a cup of coffee and found no one there he could talk to.
Eventually, he ended up in the corridor outside Shasti’s cabin on C deck. Fenaday stood there for a few minutes, irresolute. Then he turned away. It’s not fair and it’s not right, he thought.
The door whooshed open behind him. He turned to find her standing in the doorway. She wore a kimono-style robe, black silk pants and looked at him with no readable expression.
“Hi,” he said, feeling foolish. “I was just walking by.”
“You’ve been there for nearly three minutes,” she stated. “Did you think I would leave the corridor outside my own cabin unmonitored? That would make me a rather poor security chief, don’t you think?”
“Come in,” she added, when he did not respond.
“No. No, it’s all right.” he said, embarrassed. “Not your problem.”
“Robert,” she said, quietly but with force, “come in.”
He entered the cabin, and the door sealed behind him. They stood in the low light by the doorway, looking at each other.
Fenaday dropped his eyes, then sighed. “I think,” he said slowly, “I am going to be dead in a few hours.” He looked up. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Shasti said nothing, but reached forward for him. He tilted back his head to kiss her. His arms wound around her body.
“No pasts,” she said, when they separated, “no tomorrows, and no promises. Just tonight.” He nodded and she led him to her bed. They lay side by side, touching. More than two years had passed since they’d been together. He wanted to take his time; it might be the last chance for any tenderness.
Shasti’s body was as splendid as he remembered. Night black hair cascaded to her small waist. Her perfect symmetry kept her powerful body from appearing over-muscled. Nearly seven feet of goddess and here with him. Fenaday was glad for the low light. He felt ape-like by comparison.
She opened her robe, guided his hand inside, filling it with a full breast. As his fingers slowly caressed her nipple, she made a soft sound of pleasure. Her mouth came against his and their breathing quickened. Clothes dropped to the floor and their bodies began to move together as one.
She drove all thoughts of the future from his mind. He reveled in the warmth between them. Shasti responded as if they were created only for each other. It surprised him. The times before were exciting, but not like this. Perhaps, he thought, it’s the nearness of danger. He didn’t care. He’d gone so long without anyone’s touch.
They made love several times over the next few hours. At first tenderly, then a frantic mood seemed to take Shasti. She growled, even biting a little. Her legs clasped him with their full strength as if she wanted to pull him into her forever. The next time she was more careful, as if to display her skill, her almost perfect muscular control.
She wanted to start for a fourth. He smiled at her, “I’m not eighteen, you know.”
“No,” she replied, nuzzling him. “Not very breakable either.”
“Good thing,” he said fighting a yawn. “Or you’d have broken something on me the second time.”
“That a complaint?” she asked idly.
He smiled. “God, no. But I could use something to drink.”
Shasti slid off him, heading for the small refrigerator in her cabin. Just watching her walk is an experience, he thought. For the first time, he noticed the room. It had changed from its formerly Spartan look to something surprisingly feminine. A katana and wakizashi sat in their traditional holders by one wall, but draperies and indirect lighting softened the room.
At that point he noticed an easel and, curious, slipped out of bed for a closer look. He saw a forested, wintry landscape. In the middle of it padded a wolf, threading his way through the trees. The animal seemed to watch him wherever he moved. Brushes below the unfinished piece made it unquestionably hers. The style matched that of the two other landscapes on the walls.
She came up behind him, stretching an arm over his shoulder with a Bellerian fruit drink. “They aren’t very good,” she said.
“Not true,” he protested. “They are. I can almost feel his fur.”
“I’ve tried to learn,” she said. “I take lessons when we are not on board, and there are disks for the voyages. I realized one morning that all my training—all my life—was about killing. I wanted something else, something of my own. I want to be more than a bio-weapon.”
He looked up over his shoulder at her but could think of little to say.
She moved past him and picked up a brush, seeming to study it. “I have a question for you.”
“Ask away.”
“I wanted to resolve our discipline problems by eliminating Greywold. It’s a sensible move. Eliminate a malcontent, quell further dissent. I didn’t understand your reaction. I know you were upset. Why?”
Fenaday sipped his drink before replying. “I’m not judging you, Shasti. You've never told me much about your past, but I see who you are and what you do. It tells me about a hard life. Who am I to judge anyone anyway? I used to be a spoiled rich kid. I didn’t learn about want until... well you know about that.
“Despite everything that I’ve survived in the last few years, I’m not really tough enough for this job. I just can’t have a man killed in cold blood. This isn’t the sort of thing I learned growing up. I studied how to run ships, balance trade ledgers, make a profit for the line. Murder’s not in me. Maybe it should be. In a lot of ways, you're more fit to command Sidhe than I am. I guess it’s not the sort of thing I could do and look in the mirror each morning.”
“I still don’t understand,” she said. Sadness underlay her words. “I’m almost an artificial life form, Robert. I sometimes wonder how much of what makes a real human has been left out of me.”
He smiled. “Being ordinary isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m plenty ordinary. Sometimes I think it might be great to be one of the men from your planet. Wouldn’t you prefer a partner more in your scale?” He stopped. Her face had gone rigid.
“No,” she said in a harsh whisper.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No” she repeated much more softly. “No pasts here tonight. Not yours and, assuredly, not mine.”
He finished his drink quietly.
“I feel I could sleep for a few hours now,” he said trying for lightness.
“Good,” she replied, also trying to close the awkwardness of the moment.
“Do you mind
sharing? I don’t think I snore.”
Shasti gave him a frank look. “I want you to stay. I don’t want to be alone either. I guess I am at least that human.”
They slid back into the bed and lay next to each other. Fenaday dropped into sleep almost immediately.
Shasti, who needed far less sleep than an ordinary human, lay awake for a while. Memories she had never shared with anyone, surged in her, tearing at her nerves. Finally, she invoked mental disciplines learned long ago and banished her past. She altered her body chemistry and entered REM sleep by an act of will.
Shasti woke, her mind sharp and alert, at exactly 6 A.M. as she’d ordered her body to awaken. She rose out of the bed smoothly.
Fenaday stirred next to her. It took him longer to wake up and his head ached. He had that skittery feeling of too little sleep and too much caffeine. Morning seemed somehow unreal.
Shasti finished in the shower before he could get his mind together. He smiled at her wanly. As usual, she didn’t smile, but she seemed well-pleased with the world. Looking at her he thought, one wouldn’t think extinction might be only a few hours away.
Fenaday got into the shower, letting hot water beat down on his head. He wanted to stay there forever. The idea of taking a fighter down seemed insane. More than ever, he wanted to live. Despite everything, he wanted desperately to live.
Shasti pulled the curtain back. He looked up at her.
“Time to go?” she asked, as if it were out to a movie. Then he noticed her flight suit.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, turning off the shower.
“One of the Wildcats is a two-seater,” she replied. “We’ll take that one.”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “There’s no reason to for you to get killed in this.”
“Assume we aren’t killed,” Shasti said, throwing him a towel. “Once down on the planet, it’ll be hours before the shuttles arrive. Telisan is incompetent in ground fighting, and you need me to watch your back.”
“No,” he said, firmly.
“Has it occurred to you,” she replied, “that arguing with me while you are stark naked and soaked doesn’t enhance your authority? See you on the flight deck.”
Before he could summon a reply, she left. He could either run naked down the corridor after her, or have a major blowout with her in front of everyone on the flight deck. She had him mouse-trapped.
Fenaday found his clothes and returned to his cabin to get into proper gear for the flight. A cup of Irish tea sufficed for breakfast as he didn’t want much of anything on his nervous stomach. Fenaday considered adding a shot of courage to the tea, then decided against it. Rummaging through the weapons locker a cautious captain learned to keep in his quarters, Fenaday chose a heavy laser pistol and a tri-auto carbine. Then he reached for his father’s ancient Scottish dirk. It seemed a pitiful weapon to take against what had devastated the planet below, but there was no guarantee that more modern weapons would fare any better. Perhaps, as his father had thought, there might be luck in the ancient blade.
Fenaday looked around the cabin, realizing he would probably not see it again. He walked to the bedroom and looked at his wife’s picture. “Good bye,” he said, silently adding a plea for forgiveness. Then he left for the flight deck.
Shasti stood on a ladder, making alterations to the ejection seat in the stubby matte black Wildcat. Her oversized frame meant he would have even less leg room than usual in the small fighter.
A sizable crowd gathered in the hanger bay. Hangar crew prepared the fighters, which had been brought in from the wing mech-link stations for a thorough check. The other shuttles, large Dakota class transports stood ready as well. They’d launch and assume an orbit for a later landing if disaster didn’t overtake the fighters. A number of the crew gathered to watch them launch. This deprived Fenaday of his last chance to have a quiet battle with Shasti. Not, he reflected, that it was likely to work. He walked up to her. “You fight dirty, you know that.”
She looked down at him. “It’s how I was raised,” she replied in all seriousness.
Chapter Nine
“Ready?” he asked Shasti as he tightened the straps on his helmet.
“Always,” she replied.
Fenaday pulled back on the stick and the Wildcat fighter lifted from Sidhe’s main shuttle bay. He deftly piloted the fighter out the pressure doors midway up on the frigate’s blood-red hull then rolled the Wildcat on her side. Fenaday looked back at the ship where he’d spent the last few years and felt a pang. Sidhe was the closest thing he had left to a home. The frigate floated above him, beautifully lit by Mur’s starlight. Right now, with Enshar so close, he wished himself safely back aboard her.
“Perez to Fenaday.”
He keyed open the mike. “Fenaday here.”
“Communication check.”
“I read you five by five, Sidhe. Scramblers on, we should be secure.” He’d left the engineer in command. Perez was not trained to navigate a ship but Fenaday considered him more reliable than the inexperienced Micetich. In any event, he’d taken the precaution of locking the ship’s computers with codes to prevent anyone from taking Sidhe out of orbit for several weeks.
“Telisan to Fenaday, checking in.”
“Read you, Telisan,” he said, concentrating on the entry window for the dead world below them. He planned a steep and fast approach.
“He must be a good formation flyer,” Shasti said.
“Why do you say that?” he asked absently.
“Because I can see the color of his eyes from here, kind of a yellow gold,” she said.
Fenaday looked over his shoulder at his wingman. “Eek.”
Shasti was slightly exaggerating, very slightly. There was at least a five-meter separation.
“Fenaday to Telisan.”
“Read you.”
“I’m not used to being much closer than a few kilometers to another object in space. Much as I appreciate the company, how about one hundred meters separation?”
The Denlenn’s laugh sounded over the headset. “One hundred meters? I’ll have to fail you out of flight school. Why, we are so far apart now, I am deprived of much of the view of the beautiful Shasti Rainhell. Still, I swore an oath to obey you, so one hundred meters it is. I only hope that no one I know sees me in such a sloppy formation.” Telisan’s fighter slid smoothly out of view.
“Is everyone enjoying this trip but me?” Fenaday muttered.
“I could use more leg room,” Shasti said.
“You can keep quiet,” he snapped back. “You should be safely back on Sidhe.”
“I am where I chose to be,” she replied unperturbed. “There is little point running from death. It finds you anyway.”
“If I had my choice,” Fenaday said, “death would have to spend a good deal of time looking and wear out a few sets of boots chasing.”
Telemetry from the frigate showed their fighters on course for the landing window. Fenaday engaged his heat shield, watching it slide over the canopy. He readied the fighter for atmospheric entry. With her nose pointed toward Enshar, the Wildcat began to heat from atmospheric friction. Communications cut out due to interference. They slipped into the quiet time of entry. Whatever happened now would be known only to them.
They rode down in silence and the increasing heat that the fighter’s life support could not entirely dispel. Finally, the temperature began to lessen, and the canopy automatically retracted. They’d entered the ionosphere of Enshar about one hundred and twenty kilometers up. The fighter’s nose lost its cherry glow as its super-conducting material shed heat. They coasted high in the clear sky, still a midnight blue due to the nearness of space. Fenaday had timed their landing for ten minutes after sunrise at Gigor. They were coming in from the west, so the land below them lay shrouded in darkness.
“Fenaday to Telisan, status?”
“All in order.”
“Fenaday to Perez. Any reaction to our entry?”
“
Negative and you are well below the height at which Flamme was destroyed. So far, so good, Captain.”
They continued their downward path. As they came into thicker atmosphere, the shuttles began to cut silver contrails through the starlit sky. Fenaday smiled as he looked back at his wingman. Telisan’s Wildcat looked brave, riding its contrail. A last moment of beauty to take with him if they were struck down.
*****
Thousands of feet below the Wildcats lay the tiny, desolate remnants of a farmhouse in the town of Smarr. The night lay cool and still. Suddenly on the edge of the field, dust, twigs and leaves stirred as if in a storm. For only a second, the whirling debris formed a shape. The shape faced heavenward, as if looking at the contrails. Then it dissipated, as if it had never been. There was not a breath of wind in the night. All returned to stillness.
Traveling eastward, the fighters raced over the horizon.
*****
“There’s Gigor,” Fenaday said. The sun cleared the horizon and its rays lit the tops of trees and buildings, leaving the field still cloaked in purple shadow. He heard Shasti’s seat creak as she leaned forward to look beyond the backrest of his seat. Fenaday put the Wildcat in a slow circle at a height of four hundred meters. Shasti and he looked out at the devastated base. Gigor base extended for tens of kilometers. The beige and yellow Enshari buildings in the distance had the squat and unlovely utilitarian look favored by governments. Beyond them, toward the city proper lay the domes and half-domes preferred by the Enshari. Shattered glass in those buildings splintered and threw back the sunlight.
“Looks worse than it did from orbit,” she said.
“Yeah,” Fenaday said. “No question that the base was attacked. By what I can’t imagine, the pattern of destruction doesn’t resemble that from an airburst nuclear weapon. Nothing else I know of—not even a mass driver—creates destruction like this.”
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