Last Man Out (Poor Man's Fight Book 5)

by Elliott Kay

  “All good. I gotta show that article to Val. She owes me twenty credits now.”

  Her smile turned to a smirk. “You really know how to end a touching moment, Sanjay.” The hatch closed behind him. Her eyes turned to her XO and best friend. “Don’t say he’s leaving a trail of dead people. Don’t say he’s leaving a trail of dead people.”

  “Dead bad people?” the other woman ventured.

  “Argh.”

  “Lyn.”

  “I know, okay? It’s right in front of me. I’m sure it’s right in front of him, too. He’s a good guy, Veronica.”

  “Whoa. Hey. I’m not here to give you the ‘dump him’ talk. Not at all.” Veronica leaned back against the chair to one of the forward consoles. “I’m wondering what you want out of this and where you think it’s going.”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere? Someday? We’re great together. He’s great to me, whenever we can be together, anyway. I’d like to see where that goes when we aren’t playing long-distance tag a few times a year.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the hatch. “Sanjay’s spent more time with him than I have.”

  “Something tells me there’s a little more quality to your time than his,” Veronica chuckled.

  “I could use a little more quality time,” grumbled Lynette.

  The other woman laughed. “Okay. What I mean is, are you two really gonna do this back and forth until he finishes college? Four years of this? With people trying to kill him and you trying to be…” Veronica waved her hands at Lynette. “You?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, come on. We’re taking some dodgy jobs with this ship.”

  “Jobs we all agreed to. Every time.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So don’t put that on me being me. It’s us being us,” Lynette countered.

  “Fair enough. I guess that’s my point. We all know the score. Even the ones with families or significant others. If we’ve gotta fuck up some pirates or assassins or whatever, that’s what we do. I’m not telling you to break it off with him. I’m asking how long you two want to bounce around the Union. This time and the last, the trips paid for themselves and nobody has a problem with that. But you’re gonna be miserable if you can’t keep swinging it. Sometimes I wonder if you’re not a little miserable now.”

  “Veronica, when have I ever been that hung up on anybody?”

  Her best friend folded her arms across her chest. “When was anybody else ever worth it?”

  Lynette opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She closed it again. She didn’t have an answer. She didn’t have an answer for the smug look in Veronica’s eyes, either, but at least that didn’t last long.

  “I’m not saying you should break it off. I’m saying you two might want to have a serious talk about how you’re gonna stay together.”

  “Yeah.” Lynette gestured to the canopy display and the list of ships, including their home Navy. “Only it’s not just his college and my business we have to navigate.”

  Veronica looked back to the display. “Who knows? Maybe they’re only here for a party.”

  * * *

  The medals on her dress uniform jingled with every movement. Once upon a time, she took pride in the clink of such hardware, but those were a very different sort. Gold and silver medals for gymnastics didn’t mark days where she’d lost friends forever. She didn’t have to wear them all night, either, or carefully pin them in proper order to her clothes. She didn’t have to take them to fancy dinners and receptions full of complete strangers, either.

  The hall contained a greater variety of uniforms than she’d ever seen in one place. She didn’t recognize half of them. Union Fleet officers were naturally the most common, this being a Fleet base and a Fleet-sponsored function. While the uniforms of NorthStar Security Services and the Lai Wa Corporation’s officers were easy to pick out, they were rare. She could identify men and women from the Solar Alliance in their immaculate whites, and officers from Quilombo in tan ensembles accented with green—including a sash across the shoulder, which forced her to stifle a grin. So far, however, she still couldn’t identify four other uniform styles.

  Alicia saw plenty of muted stinkeye from the NorthStar goons. That was to be expected. The others seemed to look on with interest, though, as if sizing up everyone in an Archangel uniform. She did her best to blow that off, telling herself the gnawing sensation in her stomach was more important than all the rest, but her stiff blue uniform made her feel less like a person and more like an ornament. She wondered if anyone else felt the same.

  “I have no idea what I’m doing here,” she hissed to the tall young man on her right.

  Ravenell glanced back and down at her, his dark brown face turning to a frown. “You don’t know what you’re doing here? I think I’m the only enlisted person in this whole room.”

  “Yeah, but you know how to fit in with this stuff. You come from a political family.”

  “That’s my extended family. And it’s Raphael politics. One planet, back in Archangel.” Like Alicia, he kept his voice as low and subtle as he could. “And it hasn’t meant a damn thing since I signed up.”

  “It does now.” She nudged him along in line. “Tell me what to eat. I don’t know what half of this food is.”

  “You’ve been in the academy for half a year now and they haven’t taught you how to eat like fancy people?”

  “Shut up, I’m clinging to my roots.” Mimicking Ravenell, she took up a small plate from the long table and left the silverware behind. “I don’t want a fork?”

  “From what I can tell, all the tables are taken. You want to go light if you can’t sit down. Forks are one more thing to fuss with.”

  He plucked some little cubes from one of the first trays. “What’s that?” she asked.

  Ravenell leaned in and whispered, “I think it’s some strange form of space cheese. Maybe space cheddar.”

  “I will belt you.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with the garnish but it’s just cheese. The rolls of leaves are probably dolmades and I think the bruschetta is bruschetta but you never know with tomatoes from different planets. I’m gonna give it a try. I thought you’d know more about food on other planets than I do. You’ve traveled more.”

  “Yeah, but with gymnastics meets, they try to keep you on the same diet you’re used to. Nobody wants to hit the beam with a cranky stomach. Is there anything with protein?”

  “The dolmades might have lamb. C’mon, they had to have Greek food somewhere in your neighborhood back home.”

  “I’ve never had that.” Alicia looked over her shoulder to make sure the guys in line behind her were wrapped up in her own conversation. Then she leaned in closer. “I don’t want to eat any bugs. Or anything that ever had a tentacle.”

  “Guess we’ve found the limits of your courage.”

  “Rav!” she hissed. “Come on. Tell me I’m not stuck with cheese cubes and Greek leaf surprise. What can I eat here?”

  “Who told you Qin Kai is big on bugs and tentacles?”

  “Couple guys in the lower wardroom,” Alicia muttered. “Where I’m stuck eating because the main galley isn’t good enough for officers.”

  “I think they’re giving you the runaround ‘cause you’re the new gal,” he said. “Or the middie or whatever they call academy students.”

  Her face darkened. “They’d really do that?”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “Because I know half the junior officers from before I shipped out.”

  “Yeah, they knew you as Sergeant Wong. The rules were different then. The lines were different. How many officers are we talking about? How many people in the Navy do you know who’d pass up the opportunity to play a prank on a shipmate?”

  Alicia stared at the spread. “Tricking somebody into going hungry is a lame prank.”

  “Not everybody’s good at pranking.”

  “Not everybody’s good in a sparring ring,
either,” she fumed. With her resolve hardening past her doubts, Alicia filled her plate with a ravenous and nearly random draw.

  “That’s the spirit.” Loaded up and good to go, Ravenell tilted his head to lead Alicia away from the chow line. “C’mon. Let’s find friendly territory. Someplace with more of our own, or at least an empty corner. Are you worked up about this? Why?”

  “I don’t know why I’m here.” She kept her voice low as they slipped through the crowd of mingling officers. “Either of us. It’s like you said, we’re the lowest-ranking people from Archangel in this place. Judging from all the flash and glitter on these uniforms I’m guessing that translates across every other service here, too. Nobody knows who we are. There’s no reason any of them should. We’re practically bugs.”

  Her companion stopped, stiffened, and turned to her with a familiar look of disbelief. “Some of these people are intelligence officers, Alicia. Some have war colleges or whatever back home. I’m sure at least some know exactly who we are. And besides, you’ve got Union championship medals from even before the Navy. Since when have you talked like this?”

  “I’m on a new career path.” She crammed a cheese cube in her mouth. “I’m trying to be humble.”

  “Excuse me, are you Alicia Wong?” asked a voice at her side. She glanced up to find a bald, middle-aged black man in a nice suit. He was a big man, not quite as tall as Ravenell but broader at the shoulders, and with an easier smile. “From Archangel?”

  “Uh, yes?” she answered, then swallowed her snack down hard. “Yes?”

  “First place on floor exercise and beam at the Union Championships in ’73?” His smile broadened as he shifted his wineglass from right hand to left to offer a handshake. “Sean Young. Union Diplomatic Service. Heard you were here. I was in the crowd that day, so I wanted to meet you.”

  Alicia shook his hand, thinking she might lose hers within it. “Nice to meet you. I don’t meet many strangers who remember. In fact you might be the first since the year it happened.”

  “I only lucked into tickets by virtue of being posted to Arcadia that year, but it was memorable.”

  “I guess it must have been.” She didn’t know what to say. If she hadn’t been blushing before, she figured her cheeks must be turning red by now. “Kinda kept a low profile after that.”

  “Of course you have.” His eyes flicked to her companion as he offered his hand again. “And you must be Sergeant Martin Ravenell?”

  Ravenell had his hand out on pure reflex, but hesitated as they shook. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah,” said Young, smiling while holding Ravenell’s gaze.

  “You’re with the Diplomatic Service?” asked Alicia.

  “Yes,” he answered pleasantly. “And you’re both attached to Beowulf currently? Interesting.”

  “What about yourself, sir? Are you posted here on Qin Kai now, or are you coming on the mission?” Ravenell asked.

  “Oh, I’ll be on the mission. They like to have some people from the Service around for these joint exercises to keep things smooth between different militaries. The Assembly and the Fleet like to have us around for the unexpected, too.” He flashed that smile again. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need to keep getting around. Lots of diplomacy to handle.”

  “Diplomatically,” said Ravenell.

  “Yeah,” Young said, nodding a little too steadily. He slipped away with a grace he had to have practiced over decades of working a crowd.

  “What was that?” asked Alicia. “He seemed like he had something to say, but he didn’t really say anything.”

  “That was a warning,” Ravenell grunted.

  “A warning for what?” The words came without serious thought. The sinking feeling in her gut told her she already knew. So did the look from her friend. They’d been through a lot together. Some things made a bigger impact on them than others. “Aw, man.”

  “Yeah,” Ravenell repeated.

  “Miss Wong. Sergeant Ravenell.” They turned again, this time hearing a slight but familiar twang in the speaker’s voice. They both stood a little straighter as Rear Admiral Branch joined them, but nothing in his posture or his grim smirk demanded any stepped-up formalities. “I tried to slip over before you wound up in a conversation with a guy like him. Guess I’m a little slow.”

  “Like him, sir?” Ravenell repeated.

  “Yup. He’s head of the diplomatic detachment. Senior officer in this sector, too. Did he have anything to say?”

  “Only that he knew our names and wanted to introduce himself, sir,” said Alicia. “Well. That and he knew me from athletic competitions before I enlisted. And that he knew Ravenell here. For no reason, apparently.”

  “Uh-huh,” grunted the admiral.

  “He only said he’s here to keep things smooth between the different contingents, sir,” Ravenell added.

  “I suppose that’s part of it,” said Branch.

  “But not the important part, sir?” asked Alicia.

  “Nah. He’s here in case we run into any aliens. Ain’t exactly in the mission goals, but out here close to the borders, the Fleet and the Assembly like to have a designated talker.” The admiral’s glance to his left and right was subtle, but Alicia noticed his check for eavesdroppers. “So he wanted to make sure he introduced himself to the two of you.”

  “We were wondering how the two of us got invited to this reception,” said Ravenell.

  “Now you know,” said the admiral.

  “Is that also how I got put on Beowulf again, sir?” asked Alicia.

  “Not intentionally. Word is somebody might’ve mentioned your name to a certain admiral like it was a hint. Maybe a subtle warning. They wanted her to step back. She decided to step up instead. Like she does.”

  “You’re saying I’m the step forward?”

  “Kinda. Or maybe the boot ready to go up someone’s ass.” The admiral sipped his drink. “She likes to be ready for that, too.”

  Ravenell snickered. “That’s not an image I thought I’d get in my head tonight.”

  “Oh, Miss Wong ain’t the only one, sergeant. At your rank, you could’ve gone completely unnoticed here. No offense. But here you are.”

  “So is there anything we should be ready for, sir?” Alicia wondered.

  “You mean besides a full day of inspections and demonstrations and guest speeches onboard Beowulf tomorrow?” Branch shrugged. “I dunno. Pirates and nonsense everywhere, we’re fresh out of a war, and we’re on the border lookin’ for trouble. I’m sure we’ll find it somehow.”

  Chapter Twenty:

  Breaking Through

  “Seismological studies have always been limited. Everything was so quiet in the early days; the whole issue was steadily underfunded and ignored. People assumed the planet was dormant. Nobody listened to the experts. We don’t have instrumentation set up to chart out long-term patterns for comparison. I can’t tell you if the earthquakes we’ve seen in the past twenty-four hours are normal or not. My gut says this is bad, but the bosses won’t like hearing that.”

  --Internal Communications, Minos Enterprises

  August 2280

  Words could be hard sometimes.

  Naomi sat at a table in the research lab, potsherds laid out between the holographic keyboard at her fingertips and a blank display screen. She didn’t have anything better to do than this. Not with mercenaries co-opting their dig. The fiasco didn’t leave much room for her unless she wanted to be part of Vandenberg’s efforts at re-co-opting it back under his control.

  It was late in the evening. She was already worn out from working all day. After every little conflict on top of that, she wasn’t much good at the ancient door, anyway. She couldn’t sleep, either. Not with everyone else still working, or whatever passed for it. The potsherds still had to be written up and recorded.

  The words still didn’t come.

  She wasn’t so wrapped up in her woes as to lose track of her surroundings. The sound of the entrance drew her attention. Tan
ner slipped inside, meeting her gaze with a grave, urgent look. “What’s going on?” they asked each other simultaneously.

  The question relieved all the tension his appearance had created. Her shoulders fell. “Trying to get the cataloguing done. You can see how much I’ve accomplished. What about you?”

  “Checking on things.” He rounded the table to join her. “It’s not like the boss wants me around. The new boss likes me even less.”

  “I take it nobody’s figured out how to open the magic door yet?”

  “Not sure if they’re trying. I thought about saying ‘friend’ in Elvish, but I figure if that works it’s better to leave the thing shut.”

  “What?”

  “Literary reference.”

  Naomi shrugged. “Sorry, I’m not that kind of nerd.”

  “And you went into archaeology? How is that possible?” He looked beyond her to the back of the tent. “So, we’re alone in here?”

  “Yeah. Been here for an hour, at least. If anyone is hiding, they’re dedicated to the bit.” She half expected him to check under the tables.

  “Nah, I’m sure you’re right. It fits the head count.”

  “You’re keeping a head count?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “What about the artifacts? The important ones—where are they? Are they safe?”

  “Yeah.” Naomi nodded toward one of the cabinets. “They’re where they’ve been. Nobody else has been through here since those guys did their first check when they landed. You were in here for that.”

  “Figured you hired me for that sort of thing.”

  “It doesn’t seem like these guys are here to drag anyone off into the night,” said Naomi.

  He opened his mouth as if to counter, but closed it again. Whatever his response, he thought better of it. He seemed to dial back his urgency a little, too. “Aren’t those the pieces Nigel and Olivia found? Shouldn’t they be doing this stuff?”

  “It’s not like they need practice. I’ve got nothing better to do…although I don’t seem to be doing too well at this, either.” She rolled her eyes at the blank screen. “I’ve done this twenty times on this dig alone. They’re only potsherds.