by PJ Strebor
“So,” Meta said, “what are you going to do?”
“Fly by the seat of my pants and see where it lands me,” Moe said.
“Make sure it doesn’t land you in the infirmary,” Ozzie warned.
“He won’t hurt me,” Moe repeated forcefully. “Now, you two bugger off for a while. I’ll comm you when it’s time to return.”
While Moe awaited Nathan’s return she scanned the casualty reports. She was about to log off when a late input scrolled onto the screen. She bit her lip.
When the hatch opened she ran a sleeve across her face to wipe away the tears.
“What's happening?” Nathan dropped his rack into place and sat heavily.
Moe cleared her throat before answering. “We’re off duty until yellow watch.” She sat on the edge of her rack facing Nathan. Her head fell into her hands.
“Talk to me,” Nathan said.
“Iris Ahrens just died. She was wounded during Gamma Team's attempt to neutralize the dampener.”
"I’m so sorry, Moe." He rested a hand gently on her shoulder. The silence lingered for some time. “We all liked Iris.” He snorted. “Remember the time Tivendale put us into the reclamation bins for some alleged offense. Iris showed up and lied through her teeth to get us out.” His hand remained on her shoulder. “I know what you’re going through so if you need to talk …” Nathan apparently perceived her reticence and sighed deeply. “Who else?”
“Sal Rocca.”
“But I saw him after the battle. The big galoot had taken a hit but was joking with everyone.” He shook his head.
“He was one tough bastard all right. Some kind of complication set in on the way back to Truculent. He was gone before anyone knew it.” They fell silent for a short time. “But we did our duty, didn't we?”
“You bet.”
“All that blood.”
“It was a messy business all right.” He stared into the distance, his eyes dull. “Nothing morally ambiguous about today.” He rubbed his reddened eyes. “Have we heard anything from the skipper?”
Once again he diverted the conversation to spare her feelings. Always it was Nathan protecting his friends. Always there for others. But who was there to spare his feelings?
“Nothing,” Moe said. “I suppose she has other things on her mind.”
“I guess.”
The fatigue etched into Nathan’s face told Moe his mind was turning to mush. Even so he still showed some presence of mind.
“Where are Meta and Ozzie?”
"I asked them to give us some space." Moe leaned forward. "We need to talk."
Nathan nodded but chose not to speak.
Nothing new there. "What happened to you on Picaroon?"
"I'm not sure.” He rubbed the bump above his right eyebrow, shrugged and said, “I guess I just got mad."
It was a true indication of how much he had changed in the last few days that he abandoned his usual evasiveness.
"I've seen you angry before and it's not a pretty sight. But this was different. The way you ran down those fleeing headhunters, it was …" she shook her head. "I've never seen that side of you before. I'm concerned for you, Nate."
"You know me, Moe. I've got a nasty temper at times." He punched her playfully on the arm. Moe didn’t change her expression so he tried a different tack. "Something changed in all of us today. People who had never taken a life before stepped up to the challenge and it is only because of their commitment that we won the day. As for me? Something took over for a bit. But it’s a good thing. It gave me an edge."
Moe’s jaw dropped. "Nathan, you jumped into a nest of eighty headhunters with a sword in your hand. You don't find that a tad excessive?"
"They killed Leo."
His sudden rush of anger made Moe blanch.
"Look Moe, I got mad, that's all." Irritation ate around the edges of his words. "I hate Pruessens. You of all people should know why. I guess I went overboard a bit. It's no big deal."
Moe saw in his eyes the waging of a battle. He fought the emotion, struggling to push it aside. For the first time in his life he was losing the fight. She leaned closer to him.
"Going overboard I can understand. But that's not the worst thing that happened today, Nate."
"Very well, great sage, what’s the worst aspect of today's little exercise?"
"You enjoyed it."
"Yes, I did!" He spat the words into her face, so close his hot breath brushed her cheek. "Damn right I enjoyed it. And I can hardly wait to kill more of the bastards." Moe gaped at his sinister grin. "If I could get away with it I’d break into the brig and kill the prisoners, slowly, with a knife. How dare you judge me! While you were sunning yourself on peaceful Kastoria my family was going through every kind of living hell imaginable; courtesy of the empire." His eyes widened in fury. "You have no idea what we had to do to survive. You don't know what I …"
"Nathan …"
"Shut the fuck up," he screamed into her face. "Shut up! Shut up or I'll fucking well k…"
The words caught in his throat, ending with a strangled cry. Nathan clapped his hands to his mouth. A shudder ran through his body and his breathing became labored. He squinted as if in pain then his head slumped onto his chest.
Holding her heart in her mouth Moe leaned forward.
"If I don't know what you've been through," she said softly, "it's because you've never shared your grief with me."
He refused to meet her eyes.
"I've never pushed you to talk about your past but now is definitely the time to do so, Nate." She took his hands and cradled them in her lap. "Whatever burdens you've been carrying all these years are too much for one person to bear. Even you have your limits, you know."
"I'm sorry, Moe." The quaking rasp revealed a self-loathing she had never seen from Nathan before. "You know I didn't mean …" Moe bit her lip as hot tears spilled down his cheeks.
"Who's your best friend," she said, forcing a sad smile. "Who is your very best friend?"
His voice cracked as he responded with the old litany. "You are, Moe Okuma. You are my very best friend."
At that point the stone man cracked. “Oh God, I miss them Moe. I try not to, but I miss them every day. I thought today would make it better but …” The long-repressed tears streamed down his face. He brushed a sleeve angrily across his face and sniffed. Nathan threw his head back, took a huge breath and expelled it in one giant rush.
“So, Moe, how did you get so smart all of a sudden?”
“Wadda ya mean, all of a sudden?”
“God I’m tired.”
“Time for truth between us, Nate. Let me carry some of the load.” She nudged his arm. “You know you want to.” Moe knew she had never spoken a truer word.
“How much of those six years do you remember?”
“Every single day.”
He drew in an enormous breath, expelling it between pursed lips.
He told her of the Francs’ failure to protect the Iberian system and Bellinda’s capture by Pruessen navy units.
“A Pruessen naval commerce raiding party?” Moe said. “They haven’t tried anything like that since the war.”
“Yes they have, Moe. They’ve just never been caught.” He shrugged. “We came about and made a run for the I/M but no freighter outruns an E boat. Long story short, we were captured and taken into the north. Because of the Francs’ failure to meet their League responsibilities we spent the next four years as slaves of the Pruessen Empire. Never again ask me why I hate the Francs.”
“Four years, Nate?”
“We played a patient waiting game, luring the guards into thinking they’d broken us. When the time was right, we escaped. A Pruessen escort boat caught us shy of the I/M and shot us up pretty badly but we got away.”
“You’ll have to tell me how you did that one day.”
“Hmm. Our communications were destroyed during our escape so we couldn’t call f
or help. We made for the nearest Athenian world. Our hyper generator blew as we passed through the planet’s inner marker. We had no choice. We crash landed on the surface.” Nathan’s haunted expression sent a chill down Moe’s spine. “We’d been out of touch with everything for four years. We didn’t know Delos had been exposed.”
“Delos? God almighty.”
“There’s no God on Delos.” He rubbed his eyes. “Two years later the Monitor Impudent discovered me.” He shrugged. “I then spent a delightful four months at the ANS Bio-Deterrent Research facility on Mylor. The doctors would have killed me with their, how did they put it, oh yeah, their research. In the end it was all for nothing. I’m a one in a billion genetic freak who happens to have a natural immunity. To get out of that hellhole I made a deal with the devil. The devil in this case was an Athenian Naval Intelligence officer. If I talked about my time in the north, he assured me it would lead to war with Pruessen. Athens would do anything to avoid entering into a military operation within a plague zone. So he made up the cover story and I went along with it.”
“Shit.”
“Even after thirty years the thought of bringing the plague back into League space is as feared as ever. Athens would do anything to avoid war with Pruessen because of the understandable fear.”
Another thought struck Moe. “How the hell did you survive on your own for two years on Delos?”
“That’s because of my Prep.” Moe’s face inquired for more. “My premonition pain. It’s a warning of danger. Before you ask, I don’t know where it came from or how it manifests itself. All I do know is that without it I would not have survived on Delos.” He shrugged. “That’s the bones of the whole, ugly story.”
“And today? Something else happened today.”
Nathan rubbed his eyebrow. “Yeah. I have no idea about that. It surprised me more than you.”
“You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?”
Nathan’s expression turned dark.
“By telling you this, I’ve put your life in danger, Moe.” Nathan seized her by the shoulders. “You can share this with no one. No one.”
“But Nate, what about Livy? She has to be told – ”
“Are you nuts? Firstly, I will not put her in danger the way I’ve just done to you. Secondly …” His eyes stared into her as intensely as she could ever remember. “I want your word, Moe. What we’ve talked about doesn’t leave this room.” He held out his hand. “Your word, Moe.” His dangerous tone left no question as to his intent. Even the puffiness above his cheeks did not detract from the flint in his eyes.
She nodded and shook his hand.
“After the attack on our homestead I should have broken it off with Livy. But I’m weak and my weakness puts her and anyone else I care about in danger.” His self-loathing was heartbreaking. “Now, very best friend, if the inquisition is over I really need to get some sleep.”
“Not yet.” Somehow Nathan seemed to know what was coming. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
Hit bit his lower lip so hard he drew blood.
Moe took his head in her hands. “Finish it, Nate.”
His eyes became blank his breathing shallow. He cleared his throat with a shudder.
“Delos.” A shiver ran through his body. “Day forty-two, on Delos. The incubation period for the plague had been reached. The very young and the very old were the first to be affected. Except for me. It began with the fever, then the muscle cramps, the pustules on the skin, the internal rupturing, the staggering pain. Father had attended the academy and served in Monitor Corps. He recognized the symptoms.
‘How are you feeling, Nathan?’ he asked me.
‘Fine,’ I said.
A pustule burst on his face.
Within a few hours everyone, except me, was visibly affected. The moaning turned to screaming as internal organs were attacked and eaten away.
My father showed me how to end the misery. A swift, deep knife thrust to the jugular. Death within sixty seconds.
We started with my Great Uncle John. He was the oldest, his suffering the greatest. I remember, just before father struck, Uncle John smiled and said, ‘Thank you, Lucas.’
“Since I was the healthiest,” he paused for a long moment, “I was expected to do my duty. Obligation to family was everything to us, Moe. We started with the sickest, the ones who were most in pain. Finally there were only four of us left. Father, mother and my sister, Rebecca.”
Nathan’s eyes were dead grey pools, his voice dull like a machine voice.
“Rebecca nodded for me to do it. Father ended mother’s misery. And then there were two.”
Moe’s pulse thundered in her ears but she had to hear this to the end.
“I loved and respect my father more than anyone. Even Caleb. He wept after mother died and fell to the ground, the last of his energy gone. He writhed in agony. ‘Nathan, do your duty. Then survive, my son. You must survive to honor your obligation to your family. Do you understand?’
“Bloody knife in hand, I nodded. Father screamed as his insides contorted. ‘Nathan, now is the time. End my pain.’ ”
“No,” Moe whispered in horror. “No. Nathan, you killed your own father?”
Tears poured down his cheeks like a stream. He shuddered as the emotion ripped from his body.
“It’s all right, Nate. You had no choice. If you didn’t do it your father –”
“Moe,” he screamed, “I couldn’t do it. I tried, but I couldn’t do it. Not to him. Because I’m weak. Always have been, always will be. I ran away, Moe. Ran and left him to die horribly. Ran until I could no longer hear his voice cursing me. ‘You’re weak, boy, weak and useless. Do your duty, you coward.’
“I know he was crazy with the pain and probably delusional but…”
He wept then, without reserve, wept as he had never done in her presence but had so badly needed to for so long. Wept till his friend's flight suit became soaked with his bitter tears. He had not shared his appalling shame with anyone. Instead it remained in his heart like a black poison infesting his soul. Moe wept with him. Holding him to her heart. Soothing him with meaningless platitudes. Helping him banish his demons.
Finally, with his mind and body spent, the agony of an exorcised soul tearing at him, he slept.
Now, like the lifting of a long-standing fog, it all made sense to Moe. She could not recall ever feeling sorry for her friend, regardless of his tragic history. Intensely curious, but never sorry for him. Nathan was too tough for sentiment. Tonight, all that changed and would so for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER 68
Date: 20th August, 320 ASC.
Position: Monitor Truculent, running parallel to the Francorum border.
Status: Rendezvous with freighter Rochelle.
Nathan leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He had almost completed his admin duties. Truculent had expended significant stores during the patrol. The loss of twenty 'droids would undoubtedly raise a few eyebrows when the ANS Bureau of Ordnance received the requisition.
In the last four days he had immersed himself in work, using it as a cathartic patch over his most recent weaknesses. Was weakness the right word? Moe and he had spoken of his shame several times since that awful night. She repeatedly told him he had nothing to feel guilty about, reminding him he had been a child at the time. Talking had helped more than he expected. For the first time in his life he truly understood the wisdom in the old saying; confession was good for the soul. Although the ghosts of his past refused to leave him in peace, in the more practical ways he had never felt better. Moe's courageous support helped him to finally face his demons, if not totally redress his shame. Oh yes, the ghosts still lingered at the periphery of his thoughts, awaiting the night. Nevertheless, he sensed the first inklings of control over them. Work helped.
Since the battle, the worst of his wounds had healed, but the restlessness remained. Sergeant Redpath had paid him a visit t
he day before and laid his own brand of stress management at his door. For a ground pounder he showed remarkable compassion.
“It's normal to feel a bit itchy after a fight,” he said. “Especially if it's your first.” His hard features softened moderately. “That fight would have been a sickening initiation for anyone. Even a marine.”
“How did we do?” Nathan kept his tone light.
“I've seen worse.”
“Thank you. I’d be obliged if you would share your thoughts with the rest of the team.”
“Already have.”
“So, you saved the best for last?” He grinned sheepishly. Rusty shook his head and snorted.
“I've got work to do.” Redpath turned to leave.
“Hold on.”
Nathan removed the bayonet from a drawer. Holding it by the scabbard he offered it to Redpath hilt first.
“Thanks for the loan. It was a lifesaver and a life taker.”
The marine removed the blade from its scabbard.
“I see you've given it a good clean. Good, I don't want headhunter blood on my weapons. Well, not for the long term at least.” His hard, unfathomable eyes locked onto Nathan long enough to make him uneasy. Redpath handed the weapon back. “I’ve got a gut feeling you’ll make good use of this in the future.”
Redpath left Nathan too thunderstruck to reply. He cradled the weapon in his hands for a moment before returning it to the drawer. Nathan went back to work and had almost completed his latest requisition when his comm beeped.
“Telford.”
“Mister Telford,” Cmdr Demianski said, “your presence is requested in the boat bay.”
“On my way, sir.”
A minute later he swung from the drop shaft onto the longitudinal corridor outside the boat bay. His ribs still pinched a bit but were coming along.
The large landing boat from the Francorum freighter Rochelle sat ready to depart. Six men rested on gurneys awaiting their time to go aboard. The middies and some of the officers mingled with them. From the pack of milling humans a small girl darted out.
“Captain Nathan,” she shouted.