by Clare Dargin
“That’s an affirm.” She rubbed her cheek and looked at the tiny bit of blood on her hand. “Fuck.” She’d need to clean up before she got home to her husband, or she’d have to put up with his million questions. He already worried about her. With a sigh, she checked her surrounding one more time. “Hopefully, that’s the last of them or this is going to be a long night.”
Chapter Two
Fairmount, Montana
Weeks Later...
I’d like to have become a father.
Medoro Keegan stared at the holo-com on his desk. The compact unit sat completely quiet, despite the disturbing news it just relayed. He glanced out the window beside him. The sun had long since set, taking with it the light illuminating the den. The wall sconces added a warm amber glow to an otherwise dark room.
Though he hated to admit it, fatherhood was a desire he’d had for a long time. He had been close to his father, fondly remembered the times when they sat around a campfire, listening to the howl of the coyotes and sharing the proud cloak of a long day’s hard work. He’d chosen to be a pilot because of his father. The many ribbons and medals he acquired over the years meant nothing compared to the pride he felt in serving the country and planet he so dearly loved.
But they were some of the things he wanted to pass on to a son.
Keegan smiled. A son. Like so many men before him, he’d hoped he would have a boy first. Even if he’d had a girl, he would have given her more love than he could have imagined.
It’s not like fatherhood was completely out of his reach. He was, after all, happily married to a perfectly healthy woman. Well, almost healthy. If it hadn’t been for the military that had brought them together, she would have never become a cryo soldier. And it was the same military pulling them apart.
Sitting in his favorite leather chair, Medoro Keegan waited for his wife to come home. She left just after lunch and had yet to return. He suspected she was at the base. Cole Naval Air Station, once a hub of activity in his youth and shut down a decade ago for lack of funding, was alive once again. Now home to the newly formed Cryo Command, its top secret mission was known only to the participants. Like the others involved, his wife refused to talk about it.
The front door clicked shut.
Finally.
“It’s late,” he stated as Caitlin strolled by. Wearing khaki pants and shirt, with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, she would look like any other naval personnel from a distance. Except she was different. How? He didn’t quite know. Was it her beautiful dark brown eyes, caramel-colored skin, or full lips? Or her thick-corded hair she complained about whenever it got wet? Maybe it was her uncanny ability to get under a person’s skin with one word.
One thing he did know: he loved her with every bit of his soul.
“Hi,” she said, kicking off her shoes in the hallway.
“You missed dinner. Where were you?”
His slightly charred version of roast chicken and vegetables awaited her attention in the refrigerator.
“Out.”
Right. “How was your doctor’s appointment?”
She stood in the doorway and shifted her stance. “Fine.”
He stiffened. Her deception hurt. For the last two years, they had hoped to find an antidote to the cryogenic cocktail of drugs that had become her lifeline, but his wife had been hesitant about it. “Did she have any news on a treatment?”
“Unfortunately, no, but she did get me in touch with a support group for cryos in the area.”
“Are you going?” He continued to test her.
“I haven’t decided. I’m still getting use to my life here. I’m not sure if I’m ready to start hearing about other people’s experiences yet.”
“You’ll know when you’re ready.” He studied her. How long she was going to keep up this charade? “Did you talk about what happened in Kodiak? I hope so, because you certainly won’t talk about it with me.”
She shrugged. Anger surged through him.
“Really, Cate?” He sprang from his chair. “You’re going to start this? You didn’t go to the doctor. They called to reschedule your appointment because you didn’t go.”
She remained silent.
He sighed and rubbed his hands through his hair. “You say we don’t talk enough and, when I try to talk to you, you say nothing.” He leveled a firm gaze at her. “You were at the base, weren’t you?”
“You know I can’t talk about it.” Her shoulders sank.
Ever since his retirement from the Corps, he had become a man out of the loop. Sure he loved his life as a civilian. But the veil of secrecy shrouding her was smothering him.
“How are we supposed to have a new life, when you won’t let us?”
“I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t seem to make you understand…. I literally can’t talk about it.”
“Don’t say it’s the neurotransmitters because you know it’s not that. What do you think I’m going to do? Run off and tell the Vernean command?”
“Don’t treat me like a prisoner, Medoro,” she warned through gritted teeth. “I don’t need your interrogation, too!”
“I am not treating you like a prisoner! I am treating you like my wife! I asked you a simple question and I’ve been asking it. And you refuse to answer me. What are you hiding?”
When she didn’t say anything, he reached down to turn off the holo-com on his desk. “Well, at least one of us should be honest. I’ve been called back to duty.”
Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth fell open. “No, that’s impossible. You’re retired.”
“Not anymore.”
The anger he felt about the secrecy and lies surrounding her faded into sadness at the reality of their parting.
“What am I supposed to do without you?” Tears streamed down her face. “Can’t you say no?”
Though retired, he was still on the reserve list, meaning he could be reactivated at any time. He knew it, and so did she. Yet they’d never thought he’d be called, due to his record. And to be ordered to return without any restrictions was not only amazing but a downright miracle. Or was it? The communiqué stated he was to report to the USS Blanchard immediately with the status of observer and adviser.
Closing the distance between them, he smiled sadly. “I can’t.”
He’d often wondered how he would provide for them. Yes, he received a modest pension from the service, but it was not enough to give her the life he believed she deserved. Sure, there had been offers, a partnership in running a ranch, private security, and even running for sheriff. None of it fit. After everything they’d experienced, he secretly prayed for a chance to return to his ship to clear his record and for another opportunity to do what he did best.
“You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”
“I know. But this couldn’t be helped. Sweetheart, I will be back.”
Keegan pulled her into a searing kiss. Caitlin whimpered and gave into him. He longed to show his intense love for her. He raked his hand through her hair and craned her head back, running his lips across the soft skin of her throat and neck. Her exotic yet sweet scent reminded him of jasmine with a hint of spice. Needing more, he lifted her blouse to expose her soft flesh.
She could light a fire in him like no other. When he kissed her once again, she moaned softly, arousing him further. Filled with passion, he made quick work of removing her clothing. Going to their bedroom crossed his mind before he decided against it. The den floor was as far as they were going to get. Gazing at her beauty, his mind went blank. He ran his hand from her temple to her jaw, before he pressed his lips to hers again. He was going to give her a night she would not forget.
Chapter Three
Keegan stirred from his nap inside the passenger compartment aboard the British shuttle, the HMS Endurance. Awakened to a brightly lit cabin, he wondered how he had been able to sleep so well. He unbuckled his safety restraints and walked around the spacious, empty cabin. The cargo area toward the back was clear of s
eats. A single porthole allowed a view of the blackness outside. He walked to the opening and gazed out. He felt at home.
The ship’s com system clicked on with a hiss.
“Sir, we’re now in the Ross Sea,” the pilot said with cool nonchalance. “Status is weapons tight.”
A corridor in space used by both civilian and military personnel, the Ross Sea connected Earth to its main colonies. It was the primary thoroughfare for commercial shipping and, because of this, it had been a target for raids and enemy fire during the war. Therefore, it was standard procedure for any military crew to fly “weapons tight,” meaning ready to fire on any confirmed hostiles, when going through it.
Staring out the small window, Keegan tried his best to catch sight of a passing star, though he knew he wouldn’t. A feeling stirred within the pit of his stomach. He inhaled deeply and held it. It was the same anxious feeling he had been trying to quell ever since he’d been cleared by the medical officer in Washington, D.C. Why he had been given this second chance? He figured the Corps to be many things, but gracious about disobeyed orders was not one of them.
“Colonel, we are on approach to the USS Blanchard,” the pilot reported over the com.
He looked at his overstuffed duffel bag on the floor. Caitlin had packed it to the gills with who knew what. In spite of her training and time at Warrant Officer School, she packed a bag like a wife and not a Sailor.
It was hard being away from her, but still, it was good to be back in space again.
“Sir, we’ve been cleared to dock,” the pilot said.
He walked back to his seat and buckled the safety belt. Keegan rubbed his hands together, nervous about the inevitable encounter he was about to have. It was common courtesy for a senior officer, upon boarding, to meet the skipper of the ship. Though officially retired, he still fit the bill.
His pride, normally worn in secret and buried in his files of good conduct medals and high-ranking command, was all gone. All he had now was a mark on his record. Some called it a CRM or career-restricting move that meant it was better to retire than to keep working.
The transport jostled as it landed.
He slumped into the seat when the double gravity from both the transport and the ship took effect. The transport groaned in agreement as it rested on the deck. The cargo door opened with a hiss. He unbuckled his seat belt and walked toward the back wall to grab his bag. He calmed himself and then strolled toward the door.
A young woman dressed in a black-and-tan service uniform stood in front of him. She wore a holstered weapon on her hip.
“Welcome aboard the USS Blanchard. Please follow me, sir. ”
***
Keegan entered the darkened visitor’s quarters in the VIP section of the USS Blanchard, feeling decidedly out of place. It was as if he was visiting his childhood home after being away for a long time, where everything had changed and stayed the same simultaneously.
A fine layer of dust coated most of the items in the room, indicating how long it had been since they were last used. In fact, the entire ship looked as if it had a fine coating of dust in it. The crew, the equipment…everything had lost its edge.
“Well, that is no longer my responsibility,” he said with a sigh.
Looking around the room, he took stock of his new living space. Small and sparsely decorated, it was nothing like what he had before. As an executive officer, he’d had a large room with a normal-sized bed and a porthole offering a view of space. He’d also had a large desk and shelves for his books and a bathroom with its own shower.
In comparison, the visitor’s quarters was a dimly lit gray room with a private shower, a small cot, and a metal locker in which to hang his clothes. Placing his duffle bag on the floor beside his bed, he glanced inside the locker. It contained a full complement of toiletries, along with various changes of uniforms and other items he would need during his stay. Items bearing his rank and former insignia along with a copy of the ship’s “Plan of the Day” rested on the bed, awaiting his attention.
Somebody’s been doing their homework.
Strolling over to the mirror, Keegan examined his reflection. He raked his hand through his hair. It was a little longer than he liked.
“Need a haircut,” he said, staring at the image before him. His hair was grayer than it was before. His face was rounder, and his eyes had lost their fierceness. He looked soft and well-worn, like a pair of comfortable slippers. Glancing around his quarters once again, he saw a slip of paper on the nightstand next to his bed. Picking it up, he read the bold black words: Meeting in general’s ready room at 2000 hours.
He looked at the clock over the hatch. He just had enough time to get a haircut.
***
Keegan’s boots felt uncomfortably tight as he trotted through the corridors of the ship. Though certain of his destination, unease about the upcoming meeting rose. He did not know if he could face General Hollis. He had let her down and now he was about to see her for the first time since the mast. Over the years, she had become more than a friend; she was his mentor. She had taught him everything about commanding a ship. And for all she knew, he had thrown it all away for a girl. There was no telling how she would receive him.
Continuing to the general’s ready room, he glanced at the men and women going about their daily tasks. Most of them were young, just kids. For some, it was probably their first deployment and first time away from home. They wore their uniforms and work clothes called utilities like the kids wore their jeans back home, except with worse care. The crew was definitely lacking discipline and morale.
As he walked by, some paid no attention, while others paused to examine his insignia for rank. Then stopped and nodded when they recognized it. A few years back, this sort of behavior would not have been tolerated, but then again, he was no longer in command.
The corridor leading directly to the General Hollis’ ready room was void of traffic, like a no-man’s land. Only an armed Marine posted outside the door stood in this avoided territory. Nervous, he stopped in front of the guard.
“Sir?” Respectful in his tone, the Marine still gave him a fierce glare.
“Colonel Keegan reporting to General Hollis.”
“Yes, sir. She is expecting you,” the soldier replied, before knocking on the door.
“What is it?” she asked, irritation coloring her tone.
“Ma’am, Colonel Keegan is here to see you.”
“Thank you. Enter, Colonel.”
Pausing in front of the door, he readied himself. Grasping one of the brass handles, Keegan glanced at the two small anchors covered in gold resting at eye level. The solid oak required a little push to open. Inside, the room was even quieter than the corridor. In the distance, he could hear the faint ticking of an old-fashioned clock. The deep burgundy-colored room was filled with memorabilia from the days of the water Navy and decorated with overstuffed chairs and thick carpeting. It was just as he remembered it. Many times he had shared a drink with her, discussing things like life, the ship, and the Corps. Those were fond memories. Remembering himself, Keegan stood at attention.
“It’s good to see you, Colonel. Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the Marine to close the door behind him.
“Likewise, ma’am.” He relaxed and sat across from her favorite burgundy chair.
“I see life in civilian command has done wonders for you,” she said with her characteristic slight lisp. “You look relaxed.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Would you like a drink?” she offered, pouring herself one. Though she seemed a bit older, and her hair was a bit grayer, she still appeared as strong and stern as ever.
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
“Well, I’m having one.”
She cradled the glass in her hand. Falling silent, she sipped the amber liquid and then placed it on a table beside her. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her narrow ruby red lips pressed together. The corners of her mouth quirked up
ward before she opened it to speak.
“Colonel, I’ve never been one to beat around the bush, so let’s get to it. Things have changed around here since your….” She hesitated. “Retirement. We had a new XO, a fine officer and, as usual, some crew and personnel changes. For a moment there, we seemed to be all right. But now we find ourselves in the midst of a transition.”
“Such as?” Keegan asked, shifting uncomfortably.
“Well, you know, modifications to the fleet and the ship of course along with an assignment to a new sector—just your standard operations at the end of an evolution.” She peered at him and sipped the whiskey once again.
He could tell she was holding back.
“Then something happened….” She paused. “I was almost ready to take my long-awaited retirement, you know, and discover what life is like on Rodor. They say it’s a friendly place for space debris like me. But it looks like I’m going to have to put my plans on hold for a while.”
“What happened?” His chest tightened.
“Our executive officer was found dead approximately two weeks ago local time. I suppose, in a time of war, death is inevitable. However, we suspect his death was not a random act.”
“I see.” He nodded slowly.
“This explains the lax behavior by the crew. They were spooked.” Finishing the rest of her drink, Hollis placed the empty glass on the table. “I want to be clear. This conversation is classified and is not to leave this room.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It is believed this attack along, with several others, is connected to a certain program our government is undertaking with the Wacians.”
Keegan sighed and leaned back in his chair. At home, the news had been filled with stories of peace talks, treaties, and cease-fire. After the Battle of Tau Ceti Three, the tide of the war had switched to Earth’s favor, which made the Verneans ready to come to the table. Nothing was mentioned about any ongoing work with the Wacians.