Hearts and Swords: Four Original Stories of Celta

by Robin D. Owens

  “Flair?” Fern asked.

  “Psi power,” Kelse said.

  “Your psi has always been of a more physical nature. But I wouldn’t have expected Fern to have recuperated already.”

  The woman was right. Fern blinked. She’d been trained in the Awakening process—one of every couple had. She shouldn’t have been able to enjoy fabulous and energetic loving with Kelse.

  She shouldn’t have been able to walk. “We don’t have answers for you.”

  Still frowning, Chloe picked up her computer. Her dark brown eyes focused on Kelse with the intensity of a tractor beam. “It is imperative you meet the nose bridge crew. They are completely loyal and dedicated to our mission.” She slid a quick look of a woman appreciating a well-built man along his torso, something that Kelse didn’t notice. “And, after that fight, they consider you an idol.”

  “Fight?” Fern asked. There shouldn’t be fights on the ship. Anxiety trickled like cold rain through her. She recognized the place, now. She and Kelse were in the bed of the Captain’s Quarters. Which made him the Captain. If Kelse was Captain, it meant that the ship needed a strong leader accustomed to fighting for what he wanted. Choking dread filled her throat, made her swallow hard against fear.

  “It wasn’t a fight,” Kelse said.

  He meant that, but his definition wasn’t the same as many others’. Fern’s gaze collided with Chloe’s. The older woman was obviously weighing Fern, considering how much she’d interfere in Chloe’s manipulation of Kelse. Kelse wasn’t a man who was easily led, but these certainly weren’t regular circumstances for him—them. The large wall of space edged her vision. They were Earth folk—planetary people—surrounded by the hostile environment of space.

  Chloe nodded and Fern realized that the older woman confirmed that, yes, indeed, Kelse had been in a fight. Sliding her gaze toward her husband, Fern didn’t see any new bruises.

  “How much damage can the nose bridge crew do if they want?” Kelse asked.

  “You can override anything at your command console.” Chloe nodded to the huge desk.

  “But I don’t have the scientific knowledge to navigate the ship, and neither does Fern,” Kelse said. “So we’d better make sure the nose bridge crew is on our side.”

  Sides? That didn’t sound good. Fern needed to figure out what was going on, fast. She and Kelse were a team. They shared their concerns and they stood as one. But she could make mistakes if she didn’t know the situation.

  He shifted and Fern knew he was seconds away from heading to the shower. She put her hand on his thigh and he stilled.

  “If you’ll excuse us?” Fern asked. “Kelse will accompany you in fifteen minutes. Just as soon as he brings me up to speed.” She smiled.

  Chloe didn’t like it, but she nodded and left.

  “You’d better tell me everything,” Fern said.

  “Opaque wall,” Kelse said instead. Outer space disappeared and Fern suddenly realized how small the room was, just a medium-sized room for Earth, though luxurious by ship standards. Well, she and Kelse had lived in tight quarters before.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute,” he said, striding over to a small door in the opposite wall from the bed, opening it, and shutting himself inside. The sound of a shower came.

  It wasn’t like Kelse to avoid problems. No. He wasn’t avoiding problems. He was avoiding talking to her. If it wasn’t obvious that the head couldn’t accommodate two, she’d be in there with him, though the water had a heavy scent she didn’t like.

  She couldn’t comprehend his behavior. Except when they’d first met, he’d never shut her out. They’d lived on the edge of desperation, and they’d relied on each other totally. Now he wasn’t talking. Or he was figuring out exactly what he wanted to say.

  The water clicked off and an awful air-whirling noise came. A minute later he emerged dry from the air tube. He didn’t like those and was frowning.

  “What’s wrong, Kelse? Why were you Awakened?”

  Six

  Kelse said, “Chloe had one of her hunches and Awakened me.”

  He was dressing fast in black clothes that didn’t fit. They weren’t his clothes and they weren’t something he’d like wearing, especially the shirt with insignia of command.

  Kelse gave Fern a meaningless smile. “I haven’t figured out when she was Awakened. Maybe you can get her to tell you how old she is.”

  Fern snorted. Yeah, that would happen. Like never. She trolled her memory. “She was scheduled to be Awakened near the end of the voyage to help the Captain and the Pilot run the ship while we were all preparing for landing.” Something about the ship snagged at Fern’s recollection, but she didn’t catch it before Kelse spoke again.

  “That didn’t happen. We’re over schedule.”

  Fern’s mouth dried. “Lay it out, Kelse.”

  He grimaced. “There’s a mutiny on board.” He shrugged his excellent shoulders. “Not much of one, and I’ve got a handle on it.”

  Truth.

  She stood and walked over to work on his shirt cuff tabs. He wasn’t looking at her, but a ruddiness showed under his skin, and an interesting bulge in his pants, so she figured it wasn’t because he wanted to mislead her.

  There came a hard knocking at the door. “Gotta go,” Kelse said. His arm came around her to yank her to him. Take her mouth, remind her that she loved him and desired him. Then he set her aside, and she was relieved to see an old gleam in his eyes.

  “I’ll be back soon. We’ll have dinner.” He grimaced. “Such as it is. I need help with menus for the crew, the food is atrocious, but I don’t know how they’ll react, or how their stomachs will.”

  “So the mutineers aren’t a big problem.”

  “More like conspirators.” He hesitated and the gleam died in his eyes and he changed from lover to fighter. “They killed Kiet Moungala, the previous Captain. But they misjudged the timing and me. I’m in control of the ship, Fern.”

  She sat abruptly on a nearby chair. This made no sense. Kiet wasn’t supposed to have been Awakened, either. He had a natural charisma but a dislike for space. Who didn’t know that? Her memory was buzzing, but her concern for Kelse was too much to pay attention to it.

  “Will you stay in the cabin?” he asked.

  “Sure. If you allow me access to your console, so I can understand our circumstances. And you tell me the worst of it. So I hear it from you instead of figuring it out for myself.”

  The skin tightened on his tanned face, accenting his eyes, making them seem silver instead of gray. That expression she knew. The mission wasn’t going well . . . and could be fatal. If this was Earth, she’d insist on accompanying him. She stood. “Live and die together, that was our original deal before we got married.”

  He winced as if he hadn’t wanted to be reminded.

  Chloe opened the door, stormed in, took a glance at them, and faded back out.

  “How dangerous is it out there, Kelse?”

  He snorted and she relaxed a bit.

  “Not much. I think it’s a small cell but had some general support. They got away with taking out Moungala and the security officers. That’s all the killing they’ll do.”

  “You weren’t here when they died.”

  “No.” He strode to the desk console, jerked his head for her to join him. When she did, his nostrils flared. She must still smell of sex. Taking her hand, he placed it on the desktop. “This is Captain Kelse Bountry giving full authorization to Fern Bountry for any and all accesses and actions on this ship.”

  “Recognizing Fern Bountry,” the ship said in a flat tone that bothered Fern.

  Kelse took both her hands and she naturally turned to him. This was going to be bad.

  “We’re lost.”

  She stilled, panic rooted in her stomach, sent thorny tendrils through her, whipping her mind to gibber. She shuddered and managed one word.

  “And?”

  “And we’re running out of fuel.” He squeezed her hands. “It
isn’t hopeless yet. Believe that.”

  If he said so, it was true. She drew a deep breath. “All right.”

  “We have one close star system we’ve sent probes to that might have two viable planets. Julianna Ambroz is Captain of Arianrhod’s Wheel.

  She doesn’t like the looks of that system, but they’re possibilities. We can reach two more systems with a total of fourteen potential habitable planets before our fuel runs out. Probably.”

  “All right.” But she could see there was more. She angled her head, waiting.

  “There’s a wormhole that might be to civilized space—”

  “No!”

  His smile was faint, though his brows were still low with worry. “That makes it unanimous.” He glanced at the console. “I haven’t had time to do any research.” He opened his hands. “On any of this. I know what Chloe has told me.”

  Fern nodded. “I can look at the analyses.”

  “Thank you.” A kiss on her forehead, the warmth of his body reassured her. “Last . . . brace yourself.”

  He’d only ever said that to her once, when they’d had news that her family had died in mob violence in the Northeast Area. Targeted because of her and her relationship to Kelse. He hadn’t lied. She sank into her balance.

  He nodded. “The ships have been traveling two hundred and fifty years.”

  Incomprehensible.

  He kissed her cheek and left while the words and a faint hint of the concept behind them circled in her mind.

  She stood there until she became aware of the cold, then shambled to the head and a shower under strange water that had been recycled many, many times. Other water that must have come from the ship’s collectors, or somewhere, she didn’t recall the science. Not from Earth.

  Then she dressed in one of the shirts in the closet and sat down at the console and began reading Moungala’s log. Recent history was most important.

  The young nose bridge crew—none of them in their thirties— welcomed him like they were acolytes and he a high priest. The golden aura that surrounded him might have had something to do with impressing them.

  Apparently over the sixty years they’d been sequestered, this crew had become their own society, with the elders retiring to a tiny section of the great Greensward that was kept for them.

  For fun, the crew had modified the search-and-find-and-colonize-and-build program Julianna Ambroz had written. Long and scientifically titled software had become Our Mission.

  The crew had already focused on the relatively near white star and the sixth planet revolving around it—they’d begun the moment they’d launched the scientific probes. Since their voices held a false cheer when they talked about it, Kelse avoided asking how often the Colonists in the program survived.

  Kelse had occasionally seen a war game or the popular Mob vs. Psis at an arcade. Always destroyed the machine. It had been nothing like gritty reality.

  Maybe science games were different. He could only hope.

  While he was with them, he kept his own belief in the success of the mission high, along with his enthusiasm. He had little in common with the youngsters but could show approval and pride in them and their accomplishments.

  Yet when he and Chloe left the bridge by a labyrinthine back way as secret as they’d gone there, he once again felt tired to the bone. Maybe he hadn’t recovered as much as they’d believed he had.

  Or maybe he was expending energy short-circuiting his constant worry about Fern. It had been bad when she was in the cryonics bay. But she hadn’t known of the danger and he’d liked sparing her that.

  Now she would be openly with him—and no way would he be able to keep her in the Captain’s Quarters—she would be a target.

  “Fern can make a real contribution,” Chloe said. She’d rapidly accepted the change in circumstances.

  Kelse had been better about doing that on Earth, but he’d never coped with such strange circumstances as the last day.

  “No,” he said. He’d shut Chloe down on the walk to the nose bridge on the same subject.

  She sniffed but said nothing more.

  He figured the women would do what they wanted. Somehow he’d have to keep Fern safe. He didn’t know how.

  When they neared his quarters, they stepped from a wall access panel and into a quiet corridor. The next turn brought them into a busier hallway.

  People quieted. He got a couple of greetings.

  Then a man staggered toward him, red on his shirt and pants. “Cap’n!”

  Kelse lunged at him to help before he realized the red wasn’t blood.

  “Sure do like this ketchup, Cap’n.”

  Kelse laughed and people turned, wide-eyed. “I can see that.”

  With a goofy grin the man passed them. Kelse said to Chloe, “Anything in the ketchup that would make people act strange?”

  “We did a sensitivity test on volunteers before we introduced it,” Chloe said primly. She’d already told him that he’d created a lot of work.

  “Fresh ketchup as requested, made from ingredients grown in the Greensward. Also several chutneys and various spices.”

  “Thank you again.”

  Chloe turned and looked back over her shoulder, then permitted herself a small smile and a little sigh. “It was a good idea. Though I’ve never liked ketchup.”

  “Me, either.” Always looked a little too much like blood to him. But he’d gotten a small adrenaline boost when he’d thought the crew member was hurt.

  Then they were at his door. Chloe nodded at the temporary security guards and walked on. Kelse acknowledged them, too, then entered his code, his heart bumping hard. Soon he’d have Fern in his arms again.

  The room was dim and he locked the door behind him. Fern was asleep at the console. So beautiful, his Fern. The most beautiful being in the universe.

  How he wished she was in the cryonics bay, away from all these problems.

  How glad he was to have her with him. He picked her up and she snuggled against him, murmuring, “Kelse.”

  Since she didn’t like to sleep raw, he left her in the shirt and put her on his bed. There was no sight as wonderful as Fern in his bed. She rolled over and the shirt hiked up, revealing her excellent ass. His body tightened and thought vanished as he stripped. But when he lay down beside her, he had time only to hold her before sleep crashed on him.

  When he woke in the morning, Fern was watching him. The first thing he saw was her face, lips curving into a smile. “Missed you,” he said hoarsely, “so much.”

  “Me, too.”

  They made slow love and even managed to squeeze in the tiny shower cubicle together, bodies bumping.

  Fern placed his clothes and her shirt in the cleanser, and put on a red one with gold epaulettes that barely reached her thighs and made Kelse’s mouth dry.

  Before he could jump her again, Chloe knocked on his door. This time the older woman waited for his, “Come in.” She nodded to him and smiled at Fern.

  “Fern, the clothing you ordered will be ready by this afternoon.” Chloe’s stance relaxed. “The buzz about Kelse is good. The crew involved with the food and clothing issues are excited and passing that on to others. I think we’ll have a good crowd for the security officer tryouts. I’ve moved it to Sporting Room Two.”

  “No,” Kelse said.

  “No?” Chloe frowned.

  “I don’t want this to be a spectacle, or seen as entertainment. Three guards have already died.”

  “I know that!”

  “I want the applicants to understand that, and I don’t want a crowd belittling them or making comments about their skills.” He slid a glance toward Fern. She’d obviously heard about the fight yesterday. “I also want to ensure that the room is safe for the applicants. No guy with a blazer.”

  Chloe grumbled but began tapping her handheld as she answered him. “We’ll push the exclusivity factor then.”

  “Good idea,” Fern said.

  “Any suggestions from the crew?�
�� Kelse asked.

  Studying her computer, Chloe smiled and said, “All shifts in sector twelve want to repaint their cafeteria.”

  “Approved,” Kelse said.

  Chloe grinned and the green comm light on Chloe’s computer lit as she flicked the message out.

  “Some of the widest corridors had garden boxes that have been stashed. There have been requests to open them again and restock.”

  “That will be approved on a sector-by-sector basis.” Places that might not be interesting to the conspirators could be okayed. “I’ll need to know the dimensions.” He didn’t want to fight around boxes, wanted a clear view of corridors, with no place for ambushers to hide.

  “I’ll have the crew submit the dimensions to me—”

  “I believe I know Kelse’s concerns regarding that,” Fern said coolly. “I’ll check them.” She was irritated with him. Probably thought he was hiding a lot from her. He was. All his fears.

  Expression sober, Chloe said, “No one came forward with any information on Moungala’s or the security officers’ deaths.”

  “I didn’t expect anyone to. I’m still an unknown quantity, and not of the ship culture, yet,” Kelse replied.

  “I’m going to the security guard tryouts,” Fern said.

  Kelse clenched his jaw against denial. She wouldn’t accept that from him. Instead he said, “I don’t want to make a formal announcement of Fern’s Awakening. I’d rather rumor circulate.” The more confusion around Fern, the better, as far as he was concerned. Made her less a target.

  Both women stared at him. “Why?” they asked together.

  “I think it’s best.”

  Both frowned, but since they considered it minor, they’d let him have his way.

  “All right.” Chloe jerked a shoulder, then a slightly mean smile touched her lips. “Dirk Lascom, the head of the mutineers, wants to speak with you at MidMorningBell this morning.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll set it up in the conference room on the opposite side of the ship, where we can see the star systems we want to reach,” Chloe said.

  “Is that all?”

  “For now.” Chloe eyed Fern as if she knew his wife was simmering, though Fern kept an easy manner.