One of the passengers had recorded the incident and downloaded it to a news station on Ezili, which had promptly broadcast the entire event. The Kailua had dropped into atmosphere by then, but the picture wavered, the sound uncertain. Still, it was clear the cyborgs had started it, drawing weapons the pilot should have confiscated before allowing them on board. The Gharadites had a habit of turning a blind eye to safety procedures.
The mechs had opened fire on the Selfites–who, as it turned out, had also smuggled weapons on board–and a bloody firefight had ensued. A section of the bulkhead had come apart and sliced Ness, nearly gutting her and leaving her face a bloody mess. Dozens of people had died, and more had been injured. Ironically, most of the mechs had lived. It was the innocent who suffered. It had taken months for Ness to heal from her injuries, and longer still before she stopped jumping at shadows.
Now Fault was here, right in front of her, nightmare become life.
“Why did you come here?” It was more a challenge than a question, and Garner looked from Ness to Fault and back again. “You don't belong here. Nobody wants you here!”
She didn't wait for an answer. She stormed out of the room, her eyes blazing and her strides clipped. Garner went after her, catching up halfway down the corridor. She stopped at his approach, breathing hard and trembling. She stood four inches below him, but she had such presence that he always thought her taller.
“He's not the one who hurt you,” he said.
“I know. But every time I see his face, I think of how it could've been him. He's got it in him; he's a mech. They're killing machines.” She wiped her brow. “God, I hate them. They're not human.”
He had to admit he wasn't certain cyborgs had emotions, or if they could even feel. No one, it seemed, but the mechs themselves could say on that count; and their sole purpose was waging war. So he had to concede they had a violent nature. But there were other considerations. “Fault is one of us. The brass wouldn't have let him join Star Force if they didn't think it was safe.”
“The brass has been duped if it thinks for one second that that–machine–is anything but dangerous. And so have you. He's not one of us. And neither are you if you take his side.”
She turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving him hurt and angry. He went the other direction, not knowing where to go, but needing to move. When he finally calmed down enough to stand still, he found himself in the heat of the docking bay, dozens of Banshees lined up and open, the mechanics fixing problems and fine-tuning engines. There came the reek of oil and fuel, the clang and crash of metal parts, the hiss of steam escaping an untended valve, the curses of wrench heads as they fussed and fretted over the fighters. Garner spotted Núria Gomes, Takarabune's head spanner monkey, giving hell to one of the other mechanics, business as usual.
“I come here to get away from everything.”
Garner turned to see Jaden Hext, one of the members of his squadron, her blue eyes fastened to her own Banshee. She had a beautiful profile: sharply arched brows, full lips that had a habit of quirking up in a sardonic smile, soft dark hair that fell in waves around her shoulders. She was slender, but with muscle, and could kick his ass in hand-to-hand.
“ 'Everything'?” he prompted.
There came the smile. “Lanei snores, Aida plays her music too loudly and refuses to wear ear buds, and Farhana won't stop talking, even in her sleep. I'm feeling the crush, you know?”
He did know. No matter how much you liked somebody, if you spent enough time with them in the confines of a Star Force warship, they ended up getting on your nerves. Even An drove him around the bend now and then.
“So what brings you to the docking bay?” Jaden asked.
“I guess I'm having trouble with people, too. Or with one of them, anyway.”
“Ness?”
He nodded. Jaden knew well how difficult it got between Ness and himself. Sometimes he thought the entire ship knew.
She put a hand on his arm. “She's going through a rough patch, Garner. She'll get over it. And so will you.”
He looked away, hoping it was true and unable to reconcile that with the pain and anger he had inside him. He longed for peace, but peace, he knew, would be a long time coming, within or without.
CHAPTER SIX
Inside Lotan's atmosphere
Some hours later, Colonel Lange gathered the Takarabune's soldiers together for a briefing. Fault sat near the back of the room, behind Garner, An, and Adam, who spoke in low, excited tones along with everyone else until Lange entered and they were all called to attention.
When they were allowed to sit again, Lange regarded them with his customary seriousness, doing his level best to look each and every one of them in the eye. “By now, most of you know what the so-called 'mystery fighters' look like.” He switched on the holographic display, which put up an image of one of the snake-like ships; the image revolved so that every angle was visible, and Fault, who'd never seen the bogeys, drank it in, committing it to memory. So these were the things that had kicked Lotan's ass. He struggled to suppress the urge to hunt them all down and give them a taste of what they all had coming.
“We now have intel on the mothership that brought these bastards to our skies.” The picture changed to a different ship, this one of the oddest design Fault had ever seen—if he'd had any doubts about whether or not Osirians had built the fighters, those doubts were quashed now. Osirians hadn't made this thing; but it didn't fit any of the other Colonies' aesthetics, either. Which meant—
“As you are aware,” the colonel said, “none of the Colonies has claimed responsibility for the fighters or for the attack on Lotan. That's because none of the Colonies manufactured these ships.
“They were built by aliens.”
A stunned silence followed as Lange let that information sink in. Others exchanged frightened, awestruck glances, but Fault kept his eyes trained on Lange—the way he saw it, the aliens were just a new face on an old enemy, and he wanted to know if the Colonies were going to fight them.
“Our spies managed to get a few crude snapshots of the mothership's interior. We can't be certain of the ship's exact layout, but we think these”—another image popped up, this one of pod-like cubicles outfitted with what might be beds and desks—“may be crew's quarters, and this”—one more image, even more unclear than the last—“appears to be the garbage disposal.
“This data has been distributed to each of the Colonies. The warring Colonies have each vowed to put aside their differences, and to put everyone's minds at rest, Osiris has pledged temporary allegiance to her enemies in an effort to prove the foreign ships are not a top secret Osirian project. All of us, including those of us who until now had declared themselves neutral, are banding together to fight this common threat.
“Ladies and gentlemen: we are at war.”
A collective breath sighed out of the room—relief, maybe, that the waiting was over—but a terrible thrill coursed through Fault for the opportunity to kill again. His gaze flitted about the room, searching for anyone who might have noticed his excitement, but they all seemed focused on Lange, and it was Fault's turn to sigh with relief.
“We have fed the broadcasts we've been receiving into Osiris computers and have translated the alien language. What we've been picking up so far is regular ship-to-ship chatter, but experts are continuing to listen for more vital information. It's only a matter of time before we hear something we can use against them.
“Until then, hang tight. We're doubling up on training maneuvers for land, sea, and space, and warships representing Earth and each of the Colonies will be patrolling our skies—we don't know when or where the enemy will show up next, but they attacked once, without resistance, and you can be sure they'll attack again.
“This time, we'll be ready for them. Dismissed.”
Like the rest of Star Force's soldiers, Fault had trained for fighting in a variety of environments, under various circumstances, and he couldn't help wondering what tr
aining he'd have to call upon first in this war.
Whatever it was, he could scarcely wait to get started. And it scared the piss out of him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In the Enas solar system
Garner had looked forward all day to seeing Ilana. He hadn't had a chance until Morning Shift ended–“morning” being 5:00 am to 1:00 pm, GMT–and they both quit for the day.
He tried going to her work station first, thinking perhaps he'd catch her in the infirmary, as she worked as a junior medical officer there; for once, he had managed to sign off early. But Doctor Jain told him she had signed off early, as well, and that she had gone to her bunk. So that's where Garner went next, hoping he wouldn't find her with any of her bunkmates, especially Pris. He didn't want to deal with her kissy-face noises while he and Ilana made out.
He knocked on Ilana's hatch, heard her say, “Come in,” and opened the door. She had her back to him as she folded clothes, and he watched her for a minute, admiring the way her pale gold hair shone and wondering how it would look strewn across his pillow in the moonlight.
He also admired her ass. She possessed a very fine one, with a pleasing shape and just enough mass to get a good grip on.
He moved up behind her, pressing his body into hers and circling her waist with his arms. She didn't pause in her folding, so he pulled back her hair–they were alone–and kissed the side of her neck. She endured it, but stiffened, and said, “I'm busy, Garner.”
She had moods. He withdrew, and she took another little step away from him, as if she could bear just so much closeness. His eyes wandered her lovely face: a pixie's nose and chin, sage green eyes framed by dark lashes, and a shapely mouth. That mouth, currently dressed in satin pink, looked less than friendly today.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I just don't want to be with you right now.” Her voice was tight. The words stung, because he wanted to be with her all the time, even when he felt angry. Her presence comforted him.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” Curt, still not looking at him. His eyes went to her hands, and those long fingers with neatly trimmed nails and clear nail polish. She folded cleanly, precisely, with sharp, irritated movements. He saw only now that she was putting the clothes into her rucksack.
He took her arm, diverting her attention at last. “What's going on?”
She shook him off. “What's it look like?”
“It looks like you're leaving.”
“Well, that's what's going on.” She snatched at one of the photographs she kept taped to the bulkhead above her rack, a picture of herself and Garner on leave together in Hawaii. Garner hated the photo because he thought it made him look goofy, but it was Ilana's favorite. She jammed it in her pack, bending one corner.
He tried without success to process what she had said. “What?”
She glared at him, but some of the venoms had gone from her expression. “I'm leaving, Garner. I'm transferring to the Abraham Lincoln.”
“Did somebody find out we've been sleeping together?”
“No.” She took another picture from the bulkhead and stashed it.
“Then why?”
She paused, her gaze on the rack. “Because I wanted it. I put in for a transfer two weeks ago.”
He gaped at her. “Why?”
“I have my reasons.” She began packing again.
Shock began to turn into anger. He took in the scene: Ilana packing, having put nearly all of her meager belongings into her rucksack. She had taken off work early. Garner now suspected she had gotten permission to do so in order to pack in time for the next available shuttle. “And when were you going to tell me? Or were you going to let Pris do that for you?”
She rounded on him. “Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? You've always preferred brunettes.”
“Don't try to turn this around on me. You're the one disappearing without a trace.” He was angry now, really angry, and didn't know what to do with himself. He shoved his fists in his pockets and tried to keep his voice from rising.
She shook her head, exasperated with him in spite of the fact that it was she who had started the fight. She collected her rucksack and pushed past him, out the door and down the corridor towards the docking bay. He caught up with her in a few quick strides. “I wasn't going to let Pris tell you I was gone,” she said. “I was going to let the handsome Doctor Jain do it.”
He knew what she wanted him to infer from that, and he wasn't buying it. “Jain's asexual.”
“Not once I got through with him.” A mean little smirk tugged at her lips. Garner half-believed her in spite of himself, and felt a spike of hurt and anger drive through him.
“You really weren't going to tell me.”
“I really wasn't.”
He seized her arm and drew her around to face him. For an instant they stood glowering at each other; then he pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely. She let his tongue roam her mouth, then pushed him away and dealt him a hard slap to the face. Without speaking, she turned back to her course, making her way to the docking bay. He let her go, watched her vanish through the hatch. Sometimes he wondered why he loved her.
But he did love her. A blind, deep, stupid love–but love nonetheless. He went after her, unwilling to let it end this way, when he didn't even know why.
He found her handing her pack to a shuttle pilot, her hair already wilting in the docking bay's heat. She stepped up the small ramp to the shuttle's hatch.
“Ilana.”
She turned to face him, her expression calmer now, a little sad.
He met her eyes–he had to look up–and found himself falling in love with her all over again. “Why? Just tell me why.”
“It's not for forever, Garner. We just need a cooling off period.”
He made to protest. He still didn't understand; they fought sometimes, usually over Ilana's petty jealousies, but he had thought they were fine. She put her fingers to his lips, silencing him, then touched his face and studied him a moment as if trying to memorize his features. She leaned forward and kissed him, tenderly at first, so tenderly that it felt, at last, like goodbye. The kiss deepened, quickened, became urgent. Somehow the fact that she touched only his face made it that much more erotic. She withdrew just as he reached the point of no return, ran her thumb over his lips, and disappeared into the shuttle.
“Make room, flyboy.” The shuttle pilot waved him away and pulled up the ramp. Garner backed off, allowing the shuttle to roll out to the Departure Line; at that point, it entered a departure tube cut off from the Takarabune's oxygen supply. The shuttle shot out of the tube; he could see it through the docking bay's portholes, diminishing as it headed towards the Abraham Lincoln. Garner watched it until it flew out of sight, taking Ilana with it.
* * *
A few minutes after Ilana left, the squadrons were called into the Orientation Room. Garner found a seat next to Jaden and away from Ness, who still acted pissed at him. The ship had gone on alert, but none of the other space jockeys knew why.
Colonel Lange brought everyone to attention. “Star Force has intercepted an alien transmission,” he said. “We now know a pair of alien warships plan to attack the Enas Colony at an unspecified time in the near future. The Abraham Lincoln and ourselves are within easy distance of Enas, so it's fallen to us to protect her. We still don't know exactly what the alien ships are capable of, particularly the warships; so this will be an enlightening experience. Since we don't know the exact time or nature of the attack, we have to be ready for combat at any moment. Sleep with one eye open, and when you're out there in the black, watch your six. And watch each other's six.”
He dismissed them. They all rose, most of them chattering about the news.
“Who could sleep after that announcement?” Jaden said.
Garner had to agree. Not that he expected to sleep anyway, given that Ilana had left. “We've got some time to kill before lights out. Want to check out what's happening i
n the rec room?”
She shook her head. “I've got some reading to catch up on. My brother sent me Lev Grossman's The Magicians. It's about six hundred years old, but I like it. I'm into the classics.”
“I think I read that in college. Wizard school, right?”
“That's Harry Potter. This is magician school. It's kind of the same, but rougher. More adult.”
“Sounds good.”
“I like the humor in it. If you want, I'll lend it to you when I'm finished with it. There aren't many people I know who would be interested in that kind of thing.”
“I know what you mean. Ilana doesn't read anything but romance novels.”
“My bunkmates are like that. If it doesn't involve a guy taking his shirt off and sticking his tongue down someone's throat, they don't want anything to do with it.” Her offhanded smile faded. “I heard about Ilana.”
Scuttlebutt traveled fast. “I guess it was a long time coming. I just didn't know it.”
She put a hand on his arm. “I'm sorry.” Then, “You'd better hit the rec room before all the good spots are taken.”
“Yeah. See you in the morning.”
He spent the next couple of hours watching An beat Adam and Fault at poker again before he got so bored he actually got tired. He made his way to his bunk, undressed, and fell into bed; but then Ilana's face came to mind, and his eyes refused to shut. When he managed to put thoughts of her aside, the coming battle with the aliens took his notice. He didn't sleep for hours after An, Adam, and Fault made it back to the bunk, and then he did so only in fits and starts, so that when the claxon finally rang at quarter past two in the morning, he was already half awake.
Red light flooded the bunk, the corridors, the docking bay, a bloody glow illuminating everyone's path. The siren wailed a death scream that rose and fell as Garner climbed in his Banshee and shoved on his helmet. In his anxious, sleep-deprived state, everything seemed surreal, both more and less vivid than it should. His fighter rolled past the DL, and it occurred to him then that this would make the first time he had performed in battle, the first time anyone had tried to kill him.
Colonies Of Earth: Unity War Book 1 Page 4