by C. C. Ekeke
There was the punishment for insolence. Jaoffa stopped and gazed back at his superior in horror. Seeing this, the pug-faced soldier barked out an amused laugh. The young Ttaunz opened his mouth, trying to stammer out some feeble protest. But the doors had already hissed closed behind a departing Haemekk.
Chapter 13
Even with her eyes closed, Liliana Cortes was far from blind. A steady whoosh whoosh whoosh of revolving cord cut through the air as she rapidly hopped up and down. The sound cascaded against the doctor’s slender frame like flashes of light in the dark, whipping overhead and under her hopping feet at blistering speeds.
She’d accidentally discovered this ability months ago while sparring with V’Korram, and kept finding new ways to test it. Using her sonic abilities, Lily emitted high-frequency vibrations to compensate for her closed eyes, illuminating pitch-black surroundings. Those oscillations told the doctor a lot: she was in a vast chamber that stretched on and on. Two other occupants stood near a wall to her far right chattering away. Her vibrations even revealed their murky outlines: one short and stocky with a flat-topped head. The other was more humanoid, much leaner, and slightly taller, with three round crests atop his head.
This had been her focus these past fifteen macroms while jumping rope, never opening her eyes. Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh. Lily loved testing the limits of her abilities, especially echolocation. But after a late start today, the workout also had physical benefits. Especially after last night…
“Trust me,” Sam had promised as they weaved through Pilot Pub’s drunk and deafening throng, “we’re making some memories tonight.”
That we did, Lily smiled. Last night had been chaos—liquor-soaked, crazy fun chaos. As usual, Lily was powerless to refuse going along with whatever Sam wanted to do, which often changed on a whim. But how could anyone resist that crooked conspiratorial grin or the loud, bawdy laughter?
What a fitting final girls’ night out. Lily sped up her rotations, skipping faster over the whirring rope until its oscillations were a rippling blur in the dark. Whooshwhooshwhooshwhoosh. Already she missed Sam’s effervescence on CT-1, just like she would miss their post-mission ritual. Yet Lily would not miss the mortifying regret that sometimes came after an evening of decadence. Or my wanton behavior last night…
But Lily disliked dwelling on that, focusing instead on the heated discourse between HLHG-1’s other occupants.
“Sorry, Sparky,” the stocky outline apologized in a deep, digitized tenor, “I spoke with him right after yesterday’s debrief. But our fearless leader isn’t budging. Khal’s staying on CT-1 and you on CT-2.”
Again with Khal Al Abdullah. The more polarized opinions Lily kept hearing about her new teammate, the more she wondered if his CT-1 placement was a good idea. Then again, her CT-1 placement wasn’t universally welcomed. She kept jump roping.
“Did you tell Nwosu what a grasping narcissist Khal is?” the taller outline asked.
The stocky outline nodded, tugging at something. “I used every bit of proof I knew, including how he refers to himself in the third person. Then Nwosu asked me to name three nicknames I called myself.”
“What did you say? To answer Nwosu?” Lily didn’t need echolocation to hear the leaner outline’s worry.
The stocky outline shrugged. “Khrome-Daddy, Khrome-tageous, Khrometastic.” His reply was so matter-of-fact and typical Khrome that Lily laughed, losing focus and tripping over her jump rope.
She recovered her balance deftly, wiping her sweaty brow, and opened her eyes. “Way to help him out, Khrome,” she said between giggles.
Lily glanced around the lofty neon-blue walls of HLHG-1, one of six massive suites where Brigadiers trained in virtual combat simulations. Under the pulsing glow of HLHG-1’s walls, the doctor’s dark-green workout unitard and the headband holding up her short hair took on varying shades of blue.
To her right Surje glowed a pallid shade of red. Horror contorted his hairless features, so human-like yet so alien, like all Voton. “Lights be gone, you said that? No wonder he won’t switch me onto CT-1.” Surje had a knack for overstating obvious points.
Khrome, stout, burly, and silvery, squatted in front of Surje beside a neon-blue wall. He yanked a charred orb from a circular opening in the wall, tossing it aside. He reached for another gold and less swollen device at his feet. “Besides, if you’re on CT-1, who’d look after Jan’Hax?”
Lily had to agree there. Surje on CT-2 was probably for the best. Tyris and Khrome were mischievous handfuls enough. V’Korram probably might have throttled the Thulican if he could. But three of them on CT-1? Liliana cringed, despite how much she loved those guys.
A smile spread across the Thulican’s flat and noseless face as he stuck the shiny golden mechanism into the opening. After giving it a sharp twist, Khrome stood up. “Brace yourselves.” He called out, “Suite One.” A chirp from the suite’s computer answered. “Terra Sollus, Conuropolis, Diktat District, Barnard’s Square.” Instantly, the neon-blue room around them was replaced by the hi-tech streets of Terra Sollus’s capital city-state, Conuropolis, on a sunny morning. Now Lily saw rows of chic, nonhuman bistros and clothing stores along with many avant-garde interstellar retailers, all enclosed by the lofty spacescrapers of Conuropolis’s famed Barnard’s Square.
Khrome and Surje bumped fists up and down, then shared a military salute. “End program,” the Thulican ordered. The plaza faded back into the suite’s default neon-blue walls.
“What was wrong?” Lily frowned.
“Verbal query was wonky,” Khrome answered. “Kept booting random locations instead of requests.”
“How interesting,” said Surje with minimal interest. His pale blue eyes narrowed. “Can we focus on my problem now? I’ve learned a lot from Sam. But you see how she treats Khal compared to me. If she could legally clone him to put on both CT-1 and CT-2, she would put him on both CTs.”
Lily knew she should say something to ease Surje’s constant anxieties. But the Voton had gotten combat-team placement. What more could be said?
Then she recalled an intense dialogue last night with Sam about the future. “You’ve gotta be the den mother now,” Sam had pressed, slurring and swaying. “Khrome, Tyris, even V’Korram. And Khal. They need you.”
Lily fled from the obligation. She was a Star Brigadier with just under six months of field experience. How could she be anyone’s den mother? Start by comforting a friend, a voice chided. “If you’re on CT-2 with Samantha, you’ll learn from her on the job, which Khal never did,” the doctor advised. “That’s a good thing.”
Or maybe not, Lily reconsidered. Surje was a sweet, gentle soul with little love for the shadowy intrigues of the espionage world. If he didn’t start playing the game, then Sam would devour him for breakfast.
“She’s right, Sparky.” Khrome draped a brawny arm around the slightly taller Surje. “And if there is one thing Sam likes, it’s taking us young’uns under her wing. Now, among my many talents, I happen to be a grandmaster of managing up.”
Liliana rolled her eyes. “Oh, lord. Here we go.” She slung her jump rope over her shoulder and waited with arms folded. This should be entertaining.
Khrome ignored the snark and began, “The first step is confidence. Walk into a room and own it.” He then demonstrated this by strutting his burly self around smugly. “Make it your domain.”
“Own it and make it my domain,” the Voton repeated, starting to mimic the Thulican’s swagger.
It was all Lily could do not to laugh aloud again. Still, she was quietly shaking all over.
Khrome stepped in the path of Surje’s amusingly bad strut. “Stop.”
“Why? Did I…did I do it wrong?” Surje frowned in grim concern.
“This is Khrome-Daddy’s room.” He gestured his stubby-fingered hands at the HLHG suite around them. “Find your own room.”
Surje blinked in surprise, his confident glow dialing down. “Okay...”
“But you get my point,
right?” Khrome smiled when Surje began to nod.
A trilling beep sounded, subtle but sharp enough to gain attention.
“Hold on.” The Thulican sported two thin, small cylinders where ears would be on a humanoid. He tapped the left cylinder and his smile vanished. “Lily,” he said in urgent tones.
Already the doctor saw an urgent new transmission from Captain Nwosu blinking on her wristcom. The doctor clicked and read, feeling a jolt of surprise. “OH.” Her beady brown eyes met Khrome’s round golden ones.
Without a word, they both headed for HLHG-1’s exit.
“What?” A confused Surje gaped at his departing friends. The Voton’s cherry complexion flickered in kind. “Did something just happen?”
“Our mission just became a Priority Zero,” Lily called over her shoulder as HLHG-1’s exit hissed open before her. “We head out at dawn tomorrow.”
Chapter 14
Habraum heard the news from Admiral Hollienurax and UIB Lt. Director Greenwald after Jeremy returned from school. Right after he promised his son everything they’d do before his next mission.
“The Ghebrekh usually targeted Ttaunz encroaching on Farooqua lands,” Hollienurax’s hologram stated, his eyestalks bobbing up and down. “This attack changes everything.”
Three non-Ttaunz diplomats killed and two captured, including the son of Faroor’s Viceroy. No one needed to tell Habraum where this grisly path led. “This ‘mini civil war’ just graduated into an interplanetary incident,” he had realized.
During CT-1’s emergency briefing later that afternoon, the team was surprised by the expedited departure, but prepped as they’d been trained. To think how far this lot has come, Habraum mused proudly when the briefing had adjourned. Not seeing Sam in the briefing had been temporarily jarring, until he remembered. No, best not to think about that.
Jeremy took the news much less positively. “You just came back, Daddy,” he lashed out in a jumble of anger and disappointment. “Why can’t you be here more?”
The question struck harder than words, especially since Habraum had no answer. The fate of a memberworld mattered little to a child’s disappointment. Did you really think you could be both a better father and good Brigadier this time? he chided himself. Jeremy’s fury became sullen silence during their family dinner with Sam and Tharydane, making for a lovely meal.
As Sam would be heading Brigade operations in his absence, Habraum gave her additional details before she and Tharydane departed.
Nighttime soon descended on Zeid, according to the chronometers. After Sam and Tharydane left his quarters, Habraum tucked his still-angry son into bed and changed into a more comfortable sleeveless blue hoodie, loose black sweatpants and a white skullcap. The Cerc’s focus shifted then to handling Jeremy’s long-term care in his absence. Hollus’s around-the-chronometer childcare or staying with Sam could work. But Sam’s plate was already full with CT-2 and Tharydane. And the boy was in no mood for Hollus childcare right now. So Habraum grudgingly contacted Jeremy’s maternal grandparents on Terra Sollus—asking if the boy could stay with them for a week.
Truthfully, he’d never liked dealing with the Hoangs even when Jen was alive, and the feeling was openly mutual. Nevertheless, for Jeremy’s sake the Cerc made frequent efforts toward cordiality. Plus, if Jeremy’s school was unable to reach him, the Hoangs were his closest relatives in location. After some stilted exchange, the Hoangs agreed—two days after the date that Habraum needed.
By the grace of the Twins, Habraum remembered that his old friend Rukk Rigeff was on Terra Sollus for extended shore leave from AeroFleet.
“Of course, Braum,” Rukk shot back when Habraum called, his Cercidalean accent thicker than Habraum’s. The AeroFleet pilot’s lively lavender eyes gleamed. “I’ll watch Jeremy for a few days.”
Habraum clapped his hands in triumph, worry lifting off his shoulders. “Thank you, Rukk!”
“Anytime.” The holo of Rukk standing in Habraum’s common room was about as tall as him, but lankier and lighter in complexion, his mass of thick auburn curls slicked neatly back.
“Oldest” friend couldn’t accurately describe AeroFleet Commander Rukshadrechai Rigeff. Born a few days apart, he and Habraum were boyhood friends on Cercidale, entered AeroFleet together, and flew in the same fighter group during the Ferronos Sector War.
Unofficially, Rukk was the seventh Nwosu sibling.
“This the only time we catch up?” he complained. “When ya need a child-minder?”
“Oh, shut it!” Habraum admonished him with a laugh. “You know how things have been.”
“Luckily, I kinda like you.” Rukk’s smile dimmed. “Trouble on Faroor, yea?”
“Should be a quick in-and-out,” Habraum stated briskly, security clearance preventing him from offering specifics. He changed the subject to Jeremy, listing out the boy’s proper care. It gave him at least some control before leaving his son again.
“…and get him to his grandparents ON TIME,” Habraum reminded. “I don’t want to hear any complaints from that lot.”
Rukk let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not some random klonker from the fringe of the galaxy!”
“I know, but…” Habraum thought of Jeremy, and his heart swelled. “He’s my kid, Rukk.”
Rukk softened at this. He rubbed his crooked nose, the result of too many bar fights. “I hear ya, Braum!” A playful grin spread across his face as he changed the subject. “So, you still piking Sammie?”
Rogguts! The Cerc warmed all over with desire and discomfort, yet still nodded. Rukk knew all about Sam, and made every sophomoric jape he could think of whenever they spoke.
Rukk hooted crassly as Habraum glanced reflexively up the stairs. “Ease up. He’s asleep. And I told you, it’s more than just piking.”
“Right!” Rukk scoffed. “Those heavenly mounds of hers must make its hard to recall—”
“Shut it!” Habraum barked, now irritated. “That’s my potential partner you’re mocking!”
“You’re going from piking to wifing?” Rukk scoffed. “I thought she didn’t really do relationships.”
“She wants more now,” Habraum claimed. “What, you think Sammie can’t settle?”
Rukk folded his arms and raised both eyebrows. “Do you?”
Habraum opened his mouth, but couldn’t answer honestly. “I asked first!” he snapped.
“Squit-talk aside.” Rukk placed two hardlight hologram hands on Habraum’s shoulders. “This is the first time that you’ve been ‘you’ again since…losing Jen.”
Habraum instinctively looked away at the mention of his late wife. “Your point?” he asked sourly, meeting Rukk’s gaze again.
“You’re still in the noon of your life, lad. Make sure you’re ready before you settle again. And find a partner who’s ready too.”
As usual, a few words from Rukk poked holes through his resolve. Habraum trusted Sam with his life unquestionably. But knowing of her messy past when they were just friends, the Cerc still wasn’t entirely sure he could trust Sam with his heart.
When Habraum stayed silent, Rukk grinned fiercely. “But if you just wanted some fun, you should’ve let your pint-sized protégé climb ya like a starscraper—”
Oh, for the Red Mother’s sake! “Shut your mouth, Rukk,” Habraum warned, no longer amused. He had only told Rukk about that unpleasant episode, and utterly regretted it. A few months ago, a rookie Brigadier had misread Habraum’s kindness as a late-night invitation. Mercifully, he had shut it down before intent became action.
On that note, Habraum set the time for Rukk to arrive on Hollus and said his goodbyes. Just then the Cerc’s door chime sounded.
“Come,” he said warily. It clearly wasn’t Sam, who never bothered using the doorbell. The entrance slid open, revealing Lethe’s robed and long-necked figure.
“Good evening,” said Hollus Maddrone’s administrator of operations. His three mouths spoke in harmony. “My apologies for stopping over so late—”
Lethe remained rooted outside the entrance, his round milky eyes wider than normal. “Thank you, but my business will not take long.”
The Cerc was not expecting that response. “Okay,” he said slowly. By how the normally calm Kudoban was fidgeting his spindly fingers, something obviously troubled him.
“You are departing tomorrow for Faroor, yes?” he asked.
Habraum nodded. Lethe knowing of his mission didn’t surprise him, given that the starbase he administered was under UComm jurisdiction.
“I understand your primary objective is disposing of the insurgent leader Ghuj’aega and his ilk, but I have a personal request.”
When Habraum gestured for him to continue, the Kudoban began again, “One of the hostages is a Kudoban mediator working toward peace between the Farooqua and Ttaunz, Areuz’ojjesh’ann.
“He was my mentor on Bal-Dobra,” he said. “Over the years, we grew apart due to my career path and his more antiquated views. Regardless, he is still very important to me.”
A haunted look now fluttered across Lethe’s eyes just as his calm, tripled voice wavered. “If there is the slightest chance you can rescue him, bring back—”
“I’ll do what I can,” Habraum nodded firmly. He did not know what else to say without issuing a promise of Zojje’s continued survival. That was not fair to Lethe or himself. Ghuj’aega remained his primary objective. Still, Habraum’s words seemed to mollify Lethe.
“Thank you, Habraum,” he said, all three of his mouths smiling. Something over Habraum’s shoulder caught the Kudoban’s eye. He followed the Kudoban’s stare and was shocked to see Jeremy’s small feet tramping down the staircase.
“Daddy?” The need in his drowsy voice was palpable.
Lethe took this as a cue to leave. “Good luck with your mission, Habraum.” He turned and strode away down the corridor in a billow of flowing robes.