by Finn Gray
And then there was Jemma, the green-eyed beauty with whom he was completely enthralled. Strange, he and Cassidy had become fast friends, and she was lovely in her own way, but it was Jemma who captured his imagination. Again and again, Rory had tried to make a connection with her. She hadn’t exactly rebuffed him, but she kept a distance between them. In fact, she didn’t seem to have made a single friend among the recruit class. She quietly went about her business, occasionally screwing up and taking her lumps, but always moving forward. Although she slept in the rack next to Rory’s, they never talked after hours.
But Rory wasn’t the only person whose eye she had caught. Marson couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, and he never left her alone. He’d bullied Sim, the most spineless of the recruits, into swapping racks so he could he sleep next to Jemma on the side opposite Rory. At mealtimes, he always sat beside or near her. The only positive, as Rory saw it, was the fact that she’d consistently rebuffed Marson’s advances just as she had his own.
He continued on his run, focusing on dark thoughts about Marson, and even darker thoughts of home. He’d joined the corps primarily to get away from all that, but he couldn’t put it out of his mind. By the time the low, gray outline of the administrative building, nicknamed the Bridge, came into view, he was in a foul mood.
He checked his rifle with the quartermaster before heading to the Bridge. Inside, the smells of coffee and lemon-scented cleanser assaulted his nostrils. Someone was always mopping the white tile floor, and the smell of the place reflected it. He took a few steps down the hallway, his mind wandering, and nearly collided with Jemma, who was hurrying out from the hall that led to the quarterdeck.
“Sorry,” she said, not quite meeting his eye.
“No problem. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
He heard the lie in her voice, saw it in the lines of her face, but what could he say? He wasn’t her friend. But still, they were talking. “Clancy’s all kinds of fun, isn’t he?”
A smile of relief flashed across her face. She gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Good luck in there.” She actually made eye contact with him as she spoke, and his breath caught in his throat. Her hair was beginning to grow back. It was just a bit of stubble, no more than the dusting of light brown on his own head, but he could see hers was a lovely shade of red.
“Uh, thanks,” he managed.
Before he could think of anything clever or memorable to add, she was gone. He spared a moment to watch her go. Even the bland, gray jumpsuit all recruits wore couldn’t hide her curves or the grace with which she moved. Regretfully, he turned away and made the short walk to Clancy’s door. Inside, he could hear the sergeant talking to someone.
“According to your records, you are enhanced.”
“Sir, yes sir.”
Rory frowned. He knew that voice. It was Cassidy.
“What part of your body is modified?”
“Sir, if the sergeant has access to this recruit’s medical records, the sergeant already knows the answer to that question, sir,” Cassidy said.
“I want to hear it from you, recruit.”
Rory tensed. It wasn’t all that unusual for someone to have an enhancement, especially if they came from a wealthy family. Since rumors of the recent Memnon controversy had reached the camp, however, enhancements had become a touchy subject.
“Sir, this recruit’s right ear is enhanced, sir.” Cassidy’s voice was tight.
“You had it done recently. For what reason?”
“Sir, this recruit was born deaf in that ear. It took this recruit’s family that long to save the money to pay for it, sir.”
After a long silence, Clancy finally spoke. “Are you a Memnon, recruit?”
“Sir, no sir!” Cassidy’s voice boomed.
A long silence. “Very well, recruit. Dismissed.”
“Aye, sir.”
Rory had the presence of mind to back up several steps before the door flew open. As Cassidy stalked out into the hallway, he walked forward again, pretending he’d just arrived.
“Got here just in time, I see. You didn’t misfire on the range too, did you?”
Cassidy shook her head. “Just something about my records.”
Rory nodded. “It’s always something, isn’t it?” He glanced at the door. “Guess I’d better not keep him waiting.”
“Have fun,” Cassidy said. “He’s in a rare mood.” She paused. “By the way, watch out for Marson.”
“Like you really need to tell me that?”
She chuckled. “I heard him trying to recruit a few guys to throw a blanket party for you after hours tonight.”
Rory flushed. “Is that some kind of sex thing?”
Cassidy’s features went slack. She reached out, took his face in his hands, and gazed at him through eyes filled with pity. “My gods, Plowboy.” She spoke slowly, as if to a small child. “It means they’re going to throw a blanket over your head so you can’t see who’s kicking the shit out of you.”
“Oh. That’s better than the sex thing. I’ll sleep with one eye open.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. Besides, no one seemed to want to join his party. See you.” As she strode away, Rory couldn’t help but look back at her. Could Cassidy be a Memnon? Surely not. She was his friend, his comrade at arms.
“Recruit! Are you attempting to delay your administrative correction?” He turned to see Clancy looming in the doorway.
Rory saluted. “Sir, no sir.” Heart sinking, he followed the sergeant inside the office. This day just kept getting better.
Chapter 9
Battlecruiser Dragonfly
Thetis
“Why in the hells did I ever want to come home?” Commander Dominic Graves dropped into the worn leather chair at the corner of his quarters and stared at the door, daring anyone to knock. He unlaced his boots and tossed them across the room. They banged against the far wall, knocking a framed photograph askew. Letting out a low groan, he pushed himself up onto his feet and went to adjust it.
The portrait, the only one in his quarters, was a faded image of a smiling young man and two stolid-looking older adults. He smiled as he returned the frame to its proper position. He really ought to permanently affix it to the wall. When he had first been given this command, he’d been reluctant to make anything here permanent. One of the many idiosyncrasies that resulted from his superstitious nature. His grandmother, the woman in the portrait, had passed along to him that part of her personality. The old style framed photo had belonged to her. Where others had long ago taken to digital frames, he preferred this antique. It was a reminder of a happy childhood long gone.
Satisfied for the moment, he returned to his chair. He moved gingerly, the deep bruises he had received from the brawl in New Soria still pained him. Fortunately, the black eye had faded and his split lip mostly healed. One of these days he would learn to stay out of trouble when he was on shore leave.
A knock came at the door. Just as he had expected. No rest for the weary.
“Enter!” He barked.
The door opened and a tall woman with dark skin and dark hair stepped inside and close the door behind her.
“Do you want me to salute?” Diane Jordan, Dragonfly’s executive officer, or XO for short, asked.
“What do you think?”
“I think somebody is even grumpier than usual since he got back from shore leave. Vacation wasn’t all you’d hoped it would be?” Without being invited, she moved to the chair opposite him and sat down with much more grace than he had displayed moments before.
“You know I hate shore leave.”
“I would hate it too if I got my ass kicked while I was supposed to be relaxing.” She didn’t smile but Graves had known her long enough to hear a note of mischief in her voice.
“There were three of them, and all of them at least ten cycles younger than me. I put at least one in the sick bay.” He grimaced and looked away.
“Not feeling guilty
, are you?”
“Gods, no. I just realized that’s the closest I’ve come to fighting a battle in more than a decade.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? You remember the Drax Uprising. Every soul we lost cut you to the bone.”
“You know what I mean.” He rose on unsteady feet, grunting from the pain. “We’ve been trained to do a job and now it seems that job no longer needs doing. I feel useless.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. The way you’ve been snapping at everyone since you returned, it’s a wonder you haven’t announced your retirement.”
He stopped, turned, and gave her a hard look.
Jordan’s jaw dropped. “No,” she breathed. “Dom, you couldn’t possibly...”
“I’m thinking about it. That’s all.” He opened the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Drink?”
“You trying to get me tipsy?”
Graves laughed. “When have I ever needed to get you drunk?”
“Since I became your XO twelve cycles ago.” She grinned slyly. “And you’ll recall I’ve been sober as a judge since then.”
“I knew there was a reason I’m grumpy all the time.” Another knock came at the door. He looked at Jordan and raised an eyebrow. “What do you predict? Good news or bad news?”
“Bad.” She moved to the door and opened it.
Serena “Sabre” Sabrakami stood there, fist raised, about to knock again. She gave a start, and then snapped a sharp salute. “Lieutenant Sabrakami to see the commander.”
Smirking, Jordan turned to Graves. “I was right.” She shouldered past Sabre and disappeared down the corridor.
Sabre watched her go, then turned to grin at the commander. “Her love for me grows stronger every day.”
“Close that door before you start running your mouth. Sometimes I think she has enhanced hearing.” He raised the whiskey bottle. “Drink?”
“What do you think? Were you on shore leave so long that you already forgot?” Sabre took a seat in the chair Jordan had occupied moments before.
“I was on leave just long enough to forget what a pain in the ass you are.” Graves poured two glasses of whiskey, handed one to Sabre, and returned to his seat. “How are the fledglings?”
“Not ready to be pushed out of the nest,” Sabre said.
“Any of them promising?”
“I hate to say it, but there’s one who has potential.”
Graves chuckled and held the glass of whiskey to his nose, savoring the strong, oaky aroma. He swirled it around then took a swallow. It was like a lance of cold fire in his throat. “Only you could consider potential to be a bad thing.”
“He’s Hyperian nobility, and it shows in the worst way. Most of the fledglings have rough edges that I need to sand off. Recess has soft edges that I’m going to have to sharpen.”
“Recess?”
“I call them that because he thinks he’s on the playground half the time.” Serena paused, took a drink, and stared at the wall. “You know we’ve only got three trainees?”
“Three more than we need,” Graves said, not bothering to hide the bitterness. “When are we ever going to need fighter pilots?” He took another sip and held it in his mouth so he wouldn’t be able to say anything more.
Serena grinned. “So, is that why you declared war against the local populace as soon as you got your feet on the ground on Hyperian? Itching for a little combat?”
Even in an informal situation there were few members of the crew whom Graves would allow to speak to him this way. Serena was a special case.
“I’d like to tell you no, but there might be some truth to what you say. I always avoided shore leave because I got bored. But since coming back to Dragonfly I’ve realized that’s the case here, too. I grew up reading stories and watching vids of the Memnon War. I guess that’s what I expected. And what did I get? I put down a single rebellion ten cycles ago. The rest is just paperwork.”
“I hear you.” Sabre looked down at her glass, already nearly empty. “I expected to explore the universe and, you know, meet interesting aliens and kill them.”
Graves nodded. “Who would’ve thought the universe would be so damn empty?” Aurora had sent out waves of pioneer ships, but had found precious few habitable planets and no signs of intelligent life. “The truth is, I’ve been considering making a hard choice.” He could tell by the look in her eyes that he didn’t need to tell her what it was.
Sabre gaped and then broke into laughter. “Bullshit. Dom Graves retired? What would you do? You’re too short-tempered for law enforcement and you’re too ugly to be on the vids.” She took another swallow of whiskey and her expression turned serious. “Honestly, Dom. You can’t retire until Jordan gets her own command. Somewhere else.” Sabre gestured toward the door as if the XO stood on the other side. “She hates me.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Graves said automatically, not quite meeting Sabre’s eye. “She loves your flying. She just...despises everything else about you,” he added, grinning. “Besides, if I wait for her to get a command, I’ll die on duty. A peacetime fleet rarely has need of a new commander.”
“I still can’t believe she didn’t get Osprey when it came open,” Serena said. “I can’t stand the woman but she deserved the post. Who did they give it to, anyway?”
“Simon Vatcher. Hyperian nobility.” He spat the last two words like a curse.
Sabre rolled her eyes. “She definitely got screwed, and I don’t mean in the way the two of you used it to go at it.”
“You are pushing it, Serena.” He looked down at his empty glass and trying to decide if getting up to fill it was worth the pain to his bruised legs and ribs.
“Look on the bright side. Maybe the Memnons are still out there somewhere.”
Graves’ shoulders bobbed in a silent laugh. That was a subject that had been on the tip of everyone’s tongue of late.
“You know what, Serena? I almost hope they are.”
Chapter 10
Camp Maddux
Hyperion
Lina glanced up from her book when she felt the hovercab begin to slow. She looked out the window and saw the square grounds of the camp, an island in the midst of the vast marshlands that stretched out to the horizon in every direction.
“I think we’re here.” She glanced back at Val, who was tapping furiously on her tablet. She’d been messaging someone for the last hour. “Who have you been chatting with all this time?”
Val’s head came up, a look of confusion filling her eyes for a moment. “What? Oh, just friends. Complaining about this stupid tour.”
Lina knew it was a lie but saw no point in challenging her sister. Let her have her secrets.
“We’d better get ready.”
“What’s the point? It’s going to be a thousand degrees down there. Besides, those guys never see a woman. We could roll in the mud and they’d still be drooling over us.” Nevertheless, she took out a small mirror and began freshening her makeup.
“There are female marines too, you know,” Lina reminded, running a brush through her hair.
“Your point?” Val asked, not looking at her.
“Just that it’s not true that they never see any women.”
Val let out a dramatic sigh. “If you can’t tell the difference between the two of us and a burly, bald chick who flosses with concertina wire, I can’t help you.” Still gazing at her mirror, she caught sight of the expression on Lina’s face. “Why are you gaping? You know I’m right.”
“I just can’t believe you’ve heard of concertina wire. I’m impressed.”
Val rolled her eyes. “I saw it in an old vid Simon and I watched.”
“Less impressed.”
“Screw you and that stick you have up your ass, Lina. Condescending bitch.”
Now it was Lina’s turn to roll her eyes. Val oozed an overbearing sense of superiority, constantly criticizing Lina’s choices in clothing, men, and pastimes, but send a little bit
back her way and she got pissed. “Whatever. Just pull the stick out of yours by the time we land.” Why couldn’t she and Val have gone on separate tours? Perhaps Father had some hidden agenda, an attempt to force them together in hopes they’d iron out some of their differences. Val was amenable as long as she was getting her way and everyone around her was doing what she wanted. Force her into an uncomfortable situation, and she got out her broomstick and pointy hat.
“Oh my gods, it is hot here!” Val fanned her face with her hand as they stepped down out of the hovercab and into the humid air of Camp Maddux. “I still can’t believe Father sent us here. What possible good could we do?”
“There might be some Memnons among the recruits. We’re going to deliver a message of unity. Remind them that we’re all Aurorans.”
“Can you do the talking this time?” Val asked. “I’m just not in the mood.”
Right, Lina thought. When are you ever not in the mood to talk?
Flanked by their security guards, they were escorted into the main building, which the marine who guided them called “the Bridge.” He led them to an office and bowed them inside. The commanding officer, a scarred man named Black, welcomed them and gave them a tour of the camp.
It wasn’t interesting in the least, but Lina managed to smile, nod, and ask enough questions to keep a conversation going. For her part, Val spent a lot of time dabbing the sweat from her brow with a frilly pink handkerchief and sighing loudly.
Finally, it was time for their speech. The imperials were marched up onto a platform overlooking a green lawn where lines of gray-clad recruits were formed up in ranks, standing at attention.
“We’ve reviewed the records of all recruits and are confident there are no Memnons among this class,” Black said.
Lina paused. “It would be fine if there were Memnons. We’re all Aurorans, after all.” Smiling coldly, she turned to face the crowd.
The lines of recruits stared impassively at her as she launched into her speech. She lauded their efforts, praised their willingness to commit to a cause greater than themselves, and affirmed the critical role each would play in assuring the safety of Aurorans for many cycles to come. This was the point at which most speakers would have chosen to stop, but she felt there was more to say, given the current climate. But did she dare mention Memnons by name? She sensed that would be a step too far. She spoke of unity, acceptance, and celebrating our differences.