by Mark Barber
“That’s Kat!” Qan suddenly blurted out. “How the hell did she get here?”
Rhona made her way to the stairs and then walked up and across to their table.
“Better late then never!” She grinned, tossing her perfectly sculpted hair cockily over her shoulder.
“I thought you had guard duty?” Clythe asked.
“One of the other guys took it for me,” Rhona replied.
“That’s a pretty crappy way to spend the night,” Qan offered. “I hope you thanked him properly.”
Rhona paused.
“No. Come to think of it, no, I didn’t. I didn’t say thank you at all.”
“I’m sick of you,” Jemmel greeted as she passed a beer over to Rhona. “I was quite enjoying my night until you turned up to snatch any shred of limelight from anybody else.”
“This is that jealousy thing again, huh?” Rhona smiled, her voice a little slurred. “Is this because in the five minutes I’ve been here, I’ve already had fifty-two propositions sent my way?”
“Fifty-two?” Clythe exclaimed. “I’ve had three all night!”
“Fifty-three now,” Rhona corrected, downing her beer and reaching for another.
“Are you already pissed?” Jemmel asked.
“Yeah, kinda – fifty-four – the guys in Delta Company who gave me a lift across had loads of beer – fifty-five – so I’ve been drinking for quite a while – fifty-six. Jemmel, I’m sending all of these requests to you now so you know I’m not making this up.”
“Already drunk,” Jemmel nodded, leaning back with a suspicious smile, “interesting.”
“Only kinda – fifty-seven,” Rhona slurred, “I can handle my drink. I’ve had a lot of practice. Fifty-eight – oh, she’s hot! I haven’t gone down that route for a few years. But… I’m a little out of practice, I’ve drunk a lot, it hasn’t mixed well. And now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to be sick.”
Sessetti grabbed an antidote pill and glass of water from the carousel and pushed them quickly across to Rhona. She took the pill and exhaled as her eyes sharpened back into focus a little.
“C’mon guys, let’s all go hit the dance floor.”
The rest of the night passed in a whirl of drinking, smoking, and dancing for Sessetti. His main recollections later on would be standing on the dance floor with Clythe, Qan, Gant, Rhona, and Jemmel, their arms all around each others’ shoulders to form a circle as they sang at the top of their lungs, passing drinks, and smoking sticks around as they did so. It was a moment he would never forget.
***
Tahl groaned as he opened his eyes. The last three times he had awoken were due to the temperature in his room – fluctuating seemingly at random between too hot and too cold – but this time it was something different. He sat up in his bunk and checked the time. One hour since he last sat up; two hours until his alarm would wake him. Then he heard the banging at his door again and remembered that was what had woken him up. Even half asleep, he was confused at why the visitor would not use the shard to announce themselves or what would cause a visit at such an unsociable hour. Tahl, who had fallen asleep in just his white gi trousers, pulled a black t-shirt on and wandered over to the door. There must have been a fight at a nightclub. He could think of no other reason why he was being woken, if not to diffuse some situation his troopers had caused with the local authorities.
Tahl’s eyes widened in surprise as he opened the door. Dressed in tall boots and a dress which just about adhered to Concord decency laws, Rhona leaned seductively against his doorframe. The smell of intoxicating perfume and alcohol vied with each other for control of the air.
“Hey, Boss,” Rhona fixed her unfocused eyes on his and traced a finger along his chest. “I realized that I forgot to say thank you for taking my guard duty. And… I know you’re really into me so I came up with a real good idea to show my appreciation.”
Rhona stepped toward him, tripped up over the doorframe, and collapsed giggling to the floor before tottering back to her feet.
“Pretend that never happened!” She laughed. “Honestly, I’m really good at this! Just shut the door again and we’ll start over… right, where was I?”
She leant against him and slipped an arm clumsily around the back of his neck. Tahl had not been counting, but he realized then that it had been over six years since any intimacy with a woman. Six years, and he had never laid eyes on anybody who looked like Rhona, even in those dark days of competition fighting and celebrity status. But she was drunk and not in control of herself. But it had been six years. The decision was easy and he made it instantly.
“Get inside, before somebody sees you,” Tahl said, pulling her into his room and shutting the door behind her.
“That’s more like it, sir,” Rhona slurred, “I may be a terrible soldier but I absolutely guarantee you, I’m incredible in the sack. Seriously, just gimme a minute…”
Tahl left Rhona fumbling for the fastener on the side of her dress as he found his medical kit and recovered the unit’s multi-tool. He returned to Rhona, selected a detoxification program, and stabbed a small needle into her shoulder. Rhona’s eyes immediately sharpened into focus and her skin turned to an ashen grey as hours of natural processes were accelerated and her hangover kicked in instantly.
“Ahh! Why would you do that?!” Rhona yelped, collapsing down to sit on the edge of his bed and sink her face into her hands.
Tahl quickly cycled through the other options on the medical multi tool and combined various painkillers with other mild sedatives, anti-nausea medication, and hydrators. Again, he administered a shot of chemicals into her shoulder. He watched as the natural color flowed back to her skin and the realization of her situation flooded to the fore of her fully functioning mind. She shot to her feet.
“Sir, I am so sorry,” she said desperately.
“Sit down, Katya,” Tahl said quietly, sinking to one knee opposite her as she did so to bring their eyes level. “Are you okay now?”
“I…can I have something soft to drink, please, sir?” She asked politely. “Anything to take the taste away.”
Tahl poured her a drink of strong flavored juice from local fruits, watching with a mixture of amusement and sympathy as Rhona desperately pulled the hem of her dress down and the neckline up, her narrowed eyes and clenched teeth showing the mental self-flagellation that was wracking her mind. She took the drink and the scent of alcohol very quickly dissipated.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, “I know I’m in a hell of a lot of trouble. I know this is really inappropriate, this is insubordinate, it’s… I’ll accept any punishment. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tahl stood up and opened the door for her. “Come on, go get some sleep. It doesn’t matter.”
“What?” Rhona asked as she stood. “You’re not going to carry out disciplinary action?”
“For what?” Tahl shrugged. “Getting drunk with your friends and doing something stupid? We’ve all been there. To tell you the truth, I’m just impressed you found a way back to the firebase at this time. Go get some sleep in your block and then catch a lift back to town to catch up with your friends when you’re rested.”
Rhona walked to the door and then stopped to face him.
“Why do I never get in trouble with you?” She asked softly. “Why do you always protect me?”
“It’s not you, I’d do the same for anybody in my company,” Tahl replied honestly. “I’m here to look after my people, not tear them to pieces for having a good night out. Now go on, as soon as you walk out of here, I promise I’ll forget this ever happened. I’ll never even mention it again. Go on. Good night.”
Rhona nodded and walked away. After only a couple of paces, she turned around and rushed back to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him fervently. Tahl reached up to push her away, but the last of his willpower in resisting her was spent. After several long moments, she broke away but rested her forehead against his, her eyes still
closed.
“That was a mistake,” she whispered, “a really dumb mistake. And I know it’s going to make things really awkward between us.”
She took a step back and looked up at him with a wry smile.
“But I’m really glad I did it,” she added before turning and walking away.
“W… wait!” Tahl called after her. “You said I wasn’t your type.”
“Yes, sir, yes I did,” Rhona smiled over her shoulder, “and it was a huge lie. G’night, Boss.”
***
Nausea reared its ugly but now familiar head as Sessetti woke up in his hotel room for the second morning, sunlight fighting against the automatic filters of his windows. He felt blindly on the table next to him for his medical tool, mentally thanking his past self from the night before for leaving it within reach, before selecting a program to rid him of his hangover.
That was that. Leave was pretty much over, back to the frontline to relieve the guys from the other assault force. Back to fighting Ghar. Sessetti felt the nausea returning again. He jumped as a body moved beneath the sheets. Looking down, he realized that he was not alone. Frantically piecing the previous night together, he tried to recall any girls he had met in the various bars he had visited with Clythe, Qan, Gant, Rhona, and…
Jemmel poked her head up from beneath the sheets and looked up at him.
“Aw... crap,” she whispered hoarsely.
Sessetti leaned back and closed his eyes, groaning uncomfortably.
Chapter Thirteen
Firebase Alpha
Equatorial Region
Markov’s Prize
L-Day plus 58
Sharp blades of grass pushed up through the fine sand of the small, rocky outcrop which overhung the beach. The gentle lap of the waves was accompanied by the tuneful songs of a dozen exotic bird types in the blue trees behind them as Squad Wen lounged in the early morning sun. Each of the troopers wore their hyperlight armor and berets; their weapons and equipment were already stowed in one of the half dozen Dukes which lay silently in a row down on the beach, awaiting the call for activation which could come at any moment. The other squads of Beta Company were similarly scattered around the staging area as the last few minutes before deployment to the frontline ticked quickly away.
Sessetti gazed out to sea, the gentle onshore breeze rustling the grass around him where he sat. Off to his right, Gant, Qan, and Clythe were enthusiastically engaged in conversation about their various sexual conquests over the past three days leave – from the odd snippet which Sessetti overheard, it appeared that Gant was winning. Jemmel paced restlessly along the tree line a few yan behind the rest of the group. Rhona was also alone, lying on the sand in the sun with her hands behind her head, chewing a blade of grass and smiling as she gazed up at the blue sky.
The last two days had been awkward for Sessetti, to put it mildly. It at least would have made some sense to him if Jemmel had treated him differently, been standoffish, or uncomfortable around him; anything except for the cool and casual dismissal of anything happening between them on that second night of leave. He had tried to speak to her, waited for the right opportunity, but whether by design or coincidence, she was never alone. Perhaps this was the best chance he would get to talk to her. He looked across at her. She instantly looked back and shook her head curtly.
“You not joining in with all the macho crap?” Jemmel turned to look down at Rhona. “I thought all of this talk about notching up sexual prey would be your thing.”
“Didn’t notch up anything over the past few days,” Rhona smiled, “not one.”
“Perhaps you should have tried harder,” Qan offered. “Pity can get you a long way. Clythe’ll tell you all about it.”
“Never said I didn’t try,” Rhona shrugged, “just got turned down is all.”
“You seem strangely happy about it,” Gant said suspiciously. “Sounds like there’s a story.”
“Go on,” Jemmel crouched down next to Rhona, “tell your best buddies all about it.”
“Well,” Rhona sat up and faced them with an enthusiastic smile, “you know the night I had to stay back on guard duty? You’ll never believe what happened. I was guarding the Ghar prisoners and I got talking to one of them. Turned out he was a really nice guy. The more we talked, well, I got over the whole race divide between us, and I think I’m in love.”
“Really?” Clythe exclaimed. “You fell in love with a Ghar prisoner?”
“No!” Rhona beamed. “Made up the entire story, just now! How are you so gullible? I’m talking absolute nonsense because it’s none of your business and you already know loads about me. This… this one I’ll keep to myself, I think.”
The familiar hum of a reactor drifted across the warm breeze from one of the Dukes down below. The second in line fired up its systems and then the third. Seconds later, the low thrum of the anti-gravity engines beginning their initiation cycle also started, quickly winding up to a high pitch squeal before it continued up and out of the panhuman audio spectrum.
“They’re playing our song,” Jemmel said, “time to go back to work.”
Sessetti felt a mixture of emotions as he walked down toward the beach with his squad and was left wondering what out of the fear, nausea, excitement, and resentment was actually his mind, and what was feedback from the others through the squad’s shard. Perhaps a little bit of all of it was his. Up ahead, Squad Jai filed into the first transport drone, harried along by the perpetually angry Rall. Sessetti did not miss having him run the squad.
“Even though the night has to end, don’t wear a frown baby, ‘cause we rocked the house! We rocked the house!” Rhona sang softly; not a chorister’s voice, but not bad.
Sessetti smiled at the gesture as he recognized the lyrics he had written.
“Same time, different place,” he joined in with Rhona, as they approached their transport and Qan clambered up through the open door into the cramped interior. “The faces change but the songs are the same! We’ll rock the house! We’ll rock the house!”
One by one, the rest of the squad joined in the song as the doors closed behind them and the column of green and white transport drones took Beta Company back to war.
***
Humming idly to himself, Owenne dusted off the sand from the tails of his coat as the lead transport drone sped toward the frontlines. Tahl, Van Noor, and Cane were the only other occupants of the drone – as with the rest of Beta Company, their feedback through the shard was refreshingly calm compared to their state prior to a few days’ leave. Owenne was glad to have a more efficient fighting force at his disposal, even if it had cost him three days. News from the 12th Assault Force had been positive; the Ghar had seemingly been stopped dead in their tracks and had even dug in defensively in some places. Still, this was a major inconvenience which Owenne did not need or appreciate; without the Ghar’s appearance – and now Freeborn mercenaries to add to his woes – he would already have ascertained whether Markov’s Prize was indeed Embryo, or just another backwater planet teeming with billions of panhumans begging for the chance to join the Concord. Even if they did not realize it.
“Mandarin Owenne,” Narik’s words were suddenly projected across to him through the shard, “you are not heading toward the Nienne Desert as planned.”
“I changed the plan, old boy,” Owenne replied, “what of it?”
“The bulk of the Ghar forces on Markov’s Prize are in the Nienne Desert. One would expect you to close with them and eliminate them. As planned.”
“Then perhaps one should re-visit the strategy guides,” Owenne replied, “as I’d much rather bypass a straight fight against a foe renowned for their armor and guns, and clip them from behind.”
“And yet here I find you heading directly for Pariton, their capital city. Coincidentally the location of the planet’s central archives.”
Owenne tutted and rolled his eyes, attracting the attention of the other passengers.
“ If affording myself the o
pportunity to check the planetary archives is a happy byproduct of eliminating the enemy, then so be it.”
“Let us speak directly, Owenne.” A hint of anger entered Narik’s voice. “This is no byproduct. You have found no evidence of this planet being Embryo, so now you are diverting the course of the entire campaign to suit your vague hypothesis. You are gambling with the lives of our soldiers, and the odds are astronomically against you. What do you think you will find?”
“If we take the capital, the final remnants of the planetary resistance will crumble,” Owenne delivered his answer in a deliberately patronizing tone. “And if the resistance crumbles, the Freeborn will leave, as there won’t be anybody left to pay them. With both the resistance and the Freeborn gone, we have the advantage over the Ghar. Then we win.”
“The resistance and the Freeborn are both openly opposed to the Ghar,” Narik countered. “There is no logical reason to remove them at this juncture. They are attacking your enemy.”
“They are also attacking me!” Owenne snapped. “And if I defeat the resistance, then they will join us as soon as they are under Concord control. As for the Freeborn, they can bugger off. I don’t want their help.”
“Your words lack integrity,” Narik persisted, “you are heading to the capital for your own reasons and…”
Owenne severed the shard communication connection and pressed his fingers against his aching brow. Van Noor glanced across.
“You having problems with HQ?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” Owenne replied, “but I do intend to go and have a wander around tonight. I’d like to get a better appreciation of the capital city and what we are up against. Make sure I’ve got a couple of your people to bring some guns along with us.”
“I’ll keep you company,” Tahl offered, “I know that under that cold exterior, you’re just a big softy who wants companionship.”