Runs In The Family

by Kevin Ikenberry

  “Smashing,” McMasters chuckled. “I’ll be along shortly.” He turned to walk away. Andrew watched with a small smile on his face as Darren left him alone in the garden.

  I am a lucky man, Andrew thought. Best friend and chief of staff in the same person. He left the Promenade Gardens with a long look at Libretto’s setting sun, the bright yellow star’s warmth radiating its fading light on his skin, the moist air redolent with the smells of flowers and grass, and smiled. His wife-to-be was a brilliant architect, among her other talents. He thought of the comfort of Tally’s arms. After a day like this, he needed to see her soft smile. Somehow, being around her would make him feel better. Maybe even good enough to attend the state dinner without complaint.

  * * * * *

  Fifty-One

  When they designed and built Libretto City, Tallenaara and her associates called it the ‘grand illusion.’ Fifteen kilometers in diameter and soaring more than six hundred feet from the surface at its apex, the concept of building a domed city on a hospitable planet was laughable to the Styrahi unless they considered several factors. The security of the city was one aspect, as the dome effectively camouflaged the city from orbit. The size of the dome ensured that it had its own weather system, including precipitation. Someone standing in the middle of the dome would likely have no idea they were inside an artificial structure. The illusion, though, was that the dome was built for the humans, a race who’d once explored the stars but now had to be coaxed out of their own atmosphere. Tally and her friends would laugh and wonder whether they were protecting the humans from the environment because of their relative complacency, or were they protecting the environment from the humans?

  Many of the Styrahi Council elders openly compared humanity to a bacteriophage, endlessly reproducing and slowly consuming all available resources. If the Vemeh hadn’t finally been convinced of humanity’s worth, Earth would have provided a unique case study that could have consumed every academy and university in the known galaxy. Earth and humanity certainly had their good points. Humanity had largely adopted democracy, though a sizable portion of the population still clung to organized religion like a tattered security blanket. Peace eventually blossomed, and economic stability improved as humanity left behind the need for fossil fuels, concentrating instead on new energies and living within their means. Cultural shifts from entitlement slowly gave way to true selfless service, but with one critical cost.

  Humanity had lost its ability to fight tooth and nail for what it really wanted. Could they learn again to fight for something beautiful and much, much larger than themselves?

  Trying to push her thoughts aside, Tally walked along the Little Amazon towards the city center. Among the multi-species throng, she wondered who among the humans she saw here might be on their way to fight and die for the others? Dulce et decorum et pro patria mori? Tally shook her head. Mairin didn’t fight for king and country.

  But Mairin had gone on to fight, hadn’t she? If it was truly love she felt for me then why didn’t she stay? Tally paused at a railing and watched the farmed trout and carp alert to her presence and hang motionless in the water expecting bread crumbs or the like from her. What if the grand illusion for Mairin had been me? Dammit, all of this is behind me, isn’t it? She was engaged to Andrew now and in love with him as much or more than a decade before, yet Mairin pervaded her thoughts. Her dreams. And sometimes her memory threatened to derail everything. Like now. A State Dinner in a few hours and she was standing by the river about to cry her eyes out for something fleeting. Something trivial. Something told to old friends over a glass of wine. “Did I ever tell you that I...?”

  A small alarm triggered in her neurals that she was due at Terrace in ten minutes. Her best projected time of arrival was eleven minutes, and it would be most wise to hurry. The hungry fish waited for her to throw a morsel, but she turned away. I’m not like you. Not waiting for my handout for survival. I can move on. I have moved on.

  Looking up at the warm light of Helios, she shrugged off her doubts and thoughts. Yes, they would always remain in some version. The what-ifs shared with friends over a drink with a laugh, the half-hearted regrets she thought she might change if given the chance to do it again but knowing she really wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be where she was without her experiences. Mairin would always be special, but that would be about it. For now, her life revolved around Andy. The barely concealed security personnel following her every move brought a smile to her face. Did they really think they were inconspicuous, or were they that confident that most of the species around them were just oblivious? Was the heightened security really necessary here on Libretto? Not even the Greys knew where it was and if they happened upon it, there would be little evidence beyond the residue from lingering faster-than-light vessels. Otherwise, it looked like a perfect stop for water and oxygen just like at least four hundred planets in this ring of the galaxy.

  Apprehension faded as she walked in long graceful strides towards the entertainment district and found her way by consulting the maps she’d scrutinized so hard so many years ago. Her inner compass never failed and brought her through a tunnel and a service entrance to the steps of Terrace with a good four minutes to spare. The media corps were not invited to this event, and thankfully, Terrace was decidedly empty tonight. A perk of being the Prelate, Tally thought with a grin. The best tables are always available when you’re traveling in these circles.

  “Good afternoon, Pierre,” she spoke French effortlessly as she nodded to the owner of Terrace. She strode through the entrance and easily spotted where they’d be sitting. Her favorite table, alongside Triumphe Falls, brought a smile to her face. She remembered when Emolinna built the six-foot feature with her bare hands. A large bottle of Narrobian red wine sat with fine china place settings. A bouquet of Librettan calla lilies in the center, the best imported silver shining, and some simple one-piano jazz tinkling from across the terrace.

  Perfection, she thought and walked to the table. Pierre seated her with the casual grace of a gentleman, his playful repartee making Tally smile as she looked off in the distance. She could see Andy now about two hundred yards away. There was no mistaking him for any other man, with his ambling gait and artfully ruffled suit. His collar was unbuttoned, and his tie was missing, most likely wadded into a pocket for someone else to worry about pressing. He looked relaxed, fit, and more attractive than ever.

  He closed the distance at a slow, easy pace, his gaze never leaving hers and the small smile on his face slowly widening. There was a flurry of movement at the entrance, the staff clearing the way for Andy and a few gawking civilians. She smiled at her fiancé and he grinned at her.

  I love this man. His eyes flitted from her to the entrance, and his smile vanished. He opened his mouth and looked at Tally—no, past her. A scream left his lips, and she felt strong hands pulling her backward.

  “Get down!” A man fell across her. She saw the golden eagles of a Terran Defense Force colonel before a massive explosion slammed her eyelids shut. Heat and debris hit her exposed skin. What the...?

  “Andy!” She screamed. “Andy!” She couldn’t hear anything beyond the rush of blood to her head. She opened her eyes and looked up into the dome. This could not be happening. Not here. Grey ships by the hundreds fired particle beams that stabbed the evening light and evaporated the dome. War descended upon the great illusion. Tears filled her eyes. She pushed against the colonel and he rolled away. “Andy!”

  The colonel caught her arm. “He’s gone. You need to get out of here.”

  Gone? Gone where? The realization slapped her in the face. “Andy?”

  “Tallenaara, he’s dead. The Greys are attacking, and you’re about the only person who can escape this goddamned dome before they bring it down. You understand me?”

  She smoothed the errant hair from her face and felt the dirt and dust caking her. The route was easy. She could be out of the dome in three to four minutes if she ran the whole way. “What about Andy? T
he Prelate’s diplomatic service?”

  The man shook his head. “Without the Prelate, and without your marriage being official, you’re nothing to them now. If they try and jump out of here the ship will not wait for you. Now get out of here! Get word to Styrah if you can. Our troops are on the way, but they aren’t gonna be here in time to save the city.”

  She shook her head. It was too much. Get out of the dome? And go where? Do what?

  “Listen, Tally! You’ve got to get out of here. Survive! Mairin still needs you.”

  She recoiled as if slapped. “What did you say? Who are you?”

  “My name’s Munsen. I recruited Mairin, you understand? I sent her here in the first place. We were wrong about all of it. She needs you. You have to survive, Tally. What you know about this planet will get you killed! Now get your ass out of this dome!” He touched her neural bracelet and she saw his information feeding in. Along with pictures of Mairin. And her. She saved his information with a thought. We were pawns, she thought. You realized too late that your scheme had actual consequences.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Move!” Munsen drew a pistol and moved away without looking back at her.

  At the speed of thought, her legs jolted into action. The entrance to Terrace was a smoky, bloody massacre. Somewhere in that mess, Andrew Cartner lay dead. She knew it and didn’t need any confirmation. Over the railing she vaulted, kicking her shoes off. As she ran, she doffed her tattered jacket and cast it aside. She ran through the entertainment district and its throngs of innocents dying by scores as particle beams tracked them down. She dove into the service corridor and through doors even Libretto City’s denizens had no idea were there. She made the outer ring of the dome in four minutes, and it took her two more minutes to get out of the dome on the far side. The Greys hadn’t surrounded the city yet. There was a slim opportunity to escape. She ran northwest through the forest as fast as her legs could take her.

  There were no flashing messages from McMasters and the Prelate’s staffers, so she disconnected her neurals completely. Munsen was right, she knew. The amount of care that anyone on the Prelate’s staff, including Darren McMasters, had for her dwindled by the moment. The silence of her neurals comforted her. There was nothing to do now but run, and survive. She wanted to promise herself that Andy would not have died in vain for anything, but she couldn’t. The Grey assault ships hovering over Libretto City gave meaning to Andy’s death, but there was little solace there.

  But what if it hadn’t been the Greys? And how did Munsen know?

  She thought about those questions as she ran until she could think about them no longer. Run. Just run.

  Just run.

  After four hours of running at the speed of genetic perfection, she burst through the tree line and saw her cabin, the set for her grand illusion with Mairin. Tally sank to the wet grass and sobbed. She fingered the ring on her left hand as she cried for Andy. She would never stop grieving. Her hearts broken twice, she cried until exhaustion threatened to bring her to sleep. Libretto had fallen to the Greys, and she understood beyond measure that whether Munsen had lied to her or not, she had to survive to find out for herself. Legs wobbling and sore from exertion, Tallenaara stumbled to her cabin and her only chance for survival.

  * * * * *

  Fifty-Two

  The godawful noise brought Mairin out of a deep, dreamless sleep. She slapped at her alarm to no avail, and her anger flared. Opening her eyes, she saw the red cabin lights engaged and knew the braying klaxons were a General Quarters call by how fast Conyers managed to tug herself into a flight suit.

  “What’s going on?” Mairin yawned and didn’t bother keying her neural connections.

  “General Quarters!” Conyers was already panting. “We’ve got to get ready! Emergency Drop action. The ship turned around last night. We’re heading into the Rim somewhere.”

  Mairin slid her legs out of the covers and set her feet on the cold floor. Another drop, she thought without much emotion. Her heartbeat barely accelerated at the prospect of combat anymore. Reaching for her coveralls and boots, Mairin allowed her neurals to boot up, only to have the sequence interrupted by Admiral Nather’s voice booming on the 1-MC.

  “All hands, this is the Admiral. We have been ordered to defend Libretto at all costs. Approximately six hours ago, Ticonderoga and her ships jumped secretly toward the Inner Rim of the galaxy in response to a most heinous action. This afternoon, Prelate Andrew Cartner was assassinated on Libretto.”

  Mairin stood up quickly, slamming her head into Conyers bunk above her. “Goddamnit!” She blinked away the stars and felt tears flow. Tally would be dead too. Those sons of bitches!

  Nather continued, “In all, there were numerous casualties, and several of his advisors and staff are still missing. Within minutes of the Prelate’s death, three large Grey motherships appeared above Libretto. Their attack is well underway. The Ticonderoga will arrive at Libretto in approximately seventeen minutes. All combat crews to stations, all gun crews to active, and all offensive and defensive systems to maximum. God help us all. Good hunting.”

  Conyers looked over her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Fucking bunkbeds!” Mairin rubbed her head and made sure there was no bleeding.

  “They killed the Prelate,” Conyers had tears in her eyes. “And...they’re attacking Libretto!”

  Mairin stopped slipping her arms into her coveralls and grabbed Conyers by the arm. “Settle down, Laura.”

  Conyers was having none of it. “The Prelate! Ohmygod! They got to the Prelate! They can get to anyone! We’ve got to...got to...”

  “Hey!” Mairin stepped into Conyers face. “Knock it off! You’re not going to be worth a shit to me or anyone else unless you completely unfuck your mind right now! The prelate and his consort are dead, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” She paused for breath and felt her heart lurch at the thought of Tally dead. “We’re going down there to make those bastards pay, Laura. You’ve got to get me and my troopers down there perfectly, you got that? Don’t think about anything else until we get back here, all right?”

  “But it’s the prelate!” Conyers pleaded. “He’s the voice of Earth.”

  Mairin nodded. “And he’s dead now.”

  “But...but…how can you say it like that?”

  “Because nothing is going to change it,” Mairin replied and looked away.

  Conyers whispered, “When did you get so cold, Mairin? How can you be so detached right now?”

  “What? Because I didn’t grow up on Earth I’m detached from this whole thing? Bullshit!” Her eyes began to tear, and she let them. Goddamnit, Tally! “I’m more emotionally connected than you can possibly imagine right now, Laura. So don’t give me that detached shit. It’s time to strap on your aircraft and drop me and my troopers down there to give those bastards hell.”

  “Yeah.” Conyers nodded. “Um…okay. You’re right.”

  Mairin smiled tightly. “Damn right I am. Now get your shit together. I’ll see you onboard that piece of shit Rhino of yours.”

  “Screw you,” Conyers grinned and stepped out of the stateroom into the controlled chaos of the passageway. Mairin carefully strapped on her boots and zipped up the coveralls. After a stop at the armory for her sidearm, Mairin strode into the drop bay as the last of the first load of Slammers were loaded onto Rhino Four One, her bird. She stepped up onto the front slope of her Slammer and noted it was perfectly slung for the drop. Glancing at the other three Slammers on board, she could tell they were similarly slung, and the rest of her troop would be as well. Surrounding yourself with the best breeds success, she pushed the thought down. Patronize me later, Grandpa.

  “Ma’am?”

  Mairin looked at Connors. The young communications specialist was looking at the metal bottle she’d removed from her leg pocket. “It’s water, Connors. Want to smell it?”

  Connors shook his head. “No, ma’am. Just curious.”

 
“When we get back here Connors, and we’re going to be back here after this mission, you get me? When we get back here, I want you to look up a poem called ‘Fiddler’s Green.’ You’ll understand then.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mairin nodded as she finished her preparations. She’d woken in the middle of the night two days ago with the words floating in her mind. Written around World War I, the anonymously written poem was the quintessential cavalryman’s creed in a sense. When she’d looked up the text in its entirety, she’d been moved enough to go to the maintenance deck and secure a metal canister larger than a flask and about the size of a Thermos, whatever that was. There hadn’t been time to push the poem out to her troopers, but she vowed that it would become canon.

  “Halfway down the trail to Hell,

  In a shady meadow green

  Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,

  Near a good old-time canteen.

  And this eternal resting place

  Is known as Fiddler’s Green.

  Marching past, straight through to Hell

  The Infantry are seen.

  Accompanied by the Engineers,

  Artillery and Marines,

  For none but the shades of Cavalrymen

  Dismount at Fiddler’s Green.

  Though some go curving down the trail

  To seek a warmer scene.

  No trooper ever gets to Hell

  Ere he’s emptied his canteen.

  And so rides back to drink again

  With friends at Fiddler’s Green.

  And so when man and horse go down

  Beneath a saber keen,

  Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee

  You stop a bullet clean,

  And the hostiles come to get your scalp,

  Just empty your canteen,

  And put your pistol to your head

  And go to Fiddler’s Green.”

  Dropping into the hatch, she connected her helmet to the communications cords and smoothed her hair out of the way before slipping it on. Immediately she could hear her crew and the other platoons going through the appropriate pre-combat checks. “Crew report.”