by Frank Carey
"Mom? You still there?" Christa sounded concerned.
"Yeah, I'm still here. Let's go wake your dad," I said as I headed back into the room.
"Isn't it the middle of the day there? Why is he in bed? Is he sick?"
I smirked. "I gave him a work out. Yoh, elf, wakey-wakey!" I said as I sat down on the bed and gave him a push.
"Mrphm?" he said as he eyes fluttered open. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," I said while setting the commlink to speaker. "Your daughter has a story to tell you."
"Daughter? Which one? I've got four of them, you know."
"Christa."
"Hi, Daddy," she said, followed by her idea which, in typical Christa fashion, was logical and perfectly thought out. She finished, then we both waited for a response.
Harm looked at me with a single raised eyebrow. "You want to do this, don't you?"
I nodded, vigorously.
"We arrive on-station in twenty-four hours. Need us to bring anything?" Harm asked.
"Just you and Mom. Thanks, both of you, bye,"
Harm deactivated the handset before setting it on the nightstand. He looked at me. "Are you absolutely sure?"
"Oh yeah, I am so sure. This is where we show those Tralaskans how we do it in Elf Town!"
###
Christa, Bobby, and Trent silently sat around the cafe table, drinking tea while they waited for their food. "How's the arm doing?" Christa asked Trent while eying his bandages.
"Mostly numb," he replied. "I apologize for my family's behavior. My sister is rather on edge these days."
Christa sipped her tea. "I hate to bring this up, but she tried to kill you. Fortunately for you, she was too drunk to aim straight."
The look of shock on Trent's face told Christa everything she needed to know. "You don't have a clue, do you?"
Trent bowed his head in defeat. "I didn't think it was this bad."
"Trent, what the hell happened? Why does Kimbra think you killed Luciana?"
"To prevent a coup attempt. As a male, I have little, make that no standing within the family. Kimbra, on the other hand, is the next head of the family. This will mean an end to the family."
"Why?" Bobby asked.
"My mother is ruthless, but my sister is insane. Mother is grooming another to take Kimbra's place but it will take time. Kimbra and Luciana were very close, too close. If Kimbra found out that Mother killed Luciana, then my sister would feel it necessary to kill my mother and take over the family."
"So, you took the blame to save a bunch of people who give squat about you or your wellbeing? Really?" Bobby asked.
"I think it’s sweet," Christa said while continuing to look at Trent, her tail sneaking up over her shoulder.
"Thanks," Trent said as he averted his eyes.
Bobby shook his head. "Christa, is something bothering your shoulder?"
"Huh? Oh!" She grabbed her tail and stuffed it in her pocket while mouthing a silent thanks to her brother. "So, with Trent out of the picture, you guys are shut down?"
"Yes," Trent replied. "We are down to the last four teams. Three days from now, we have a match to determine who competes in the finals five days later. The finals match is huge. Everyone who's anyone will be there."
"What does it take to be a suit fighter operator?"
"Combine a martial artist, a ballet dancer, and boxer then add a sprinkle of TPS operator," Bobby said.
"Hmmm. Military training?"
"Yes and no," Trent said as the waitress brought their meals. "I spent four years in the Tralaskan Marine Corps. Their emphasis is on developing a wide variety of skills, especially personal, hand-to-hand combat. In fact, many of the competitors were part of the TMC."
Christa frowned as she stared at her food. She stood up abruptly and headed out to the corridor. "Don't let them take my food; I'll be right back."
When she was gone, the boys talked while they ate. "Your sister seems nice. Is she seeing anyone?"
Bobby gave Trent the long look before answering. "She's the nicest of us kids and the smartest. I wouldn't be in this pickle if I had half her smarts. As for her dating, I haven't got a clue, so I guess you'll need to ask her."
Christa returned and dug into her food with gusto while the boys watched--Bobby was bemused while Trent was awed. "Christa, could you interrupt your feeding frenzy for a moment?" Bobby asked. She cuffed him
"What?"
"Is there something going on that we should know about?" he asked while pointing back and forth between him and Trent.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry," she said while wiping her mouth. "I called Mom and Dad. They'll be here tomorrow."
She looked up when her two companions didn't respond, She saw them staring at her, slack jawed. "What's wrong with you two? Burgers not up to your liking?"
"Did you say you called our parents? What are we, twelve?" Bobby asked with an edge to his voice.
"Bobby, Dad and Gloria design and build suits and head bands. Mom drives them and has been for years. Sure, she used to being inside the suit, but she's had decades of experience. Didn't you ever watch her run through her calisthenics out in the yard? The woman can do fouetté turns in battle armor."
"Wait. Your mom uses battle armor?" Trent asked, extremely confused.
"Yeah, she's a general in the Elf Marine Expeditionary Force. In fact, she helped found it," Bobby informed him the same way he would tell Trent the time. "Mom wants to be our driver?"
"She's dying to be our driver."
"We can't have her do this," Bobby said, throwing his napkin on his plate. "What if she gets hurt? She's not young anymore."
"How old is she?" Trent asked.
"Mid-forties," Bobby replied. "Is that important?"
"Very. You see, Bro, most of the teams at this level are Tralaskan teams, run by families. These families are run by women in their forties on up. Your parents will buy us respect, even more than what we got when Christa took over the financing. Damn, my getting shot may be the best thing to ever happen to this team."
"You guys got points for me financing this shindig?"
Bobby nodded. "Probably more than what we lost when our programmer left."
Christa smiled, then cuffed her brother.
"What the hell was that for?"
"Not calling me sooner, Moron. Now, was my contacting the parents a good thing?"
Bobby looked to the ceiling while Trent grinned. "Yeah, you did good, Sis. You did good."
She grabbed his desert and downed it before he could change his mind.
Chapter 9 - Strolling Down the Promenade Deck
My husband is a certified freakin genius with an IQ in excess of 160. His years as a smuggler were spent designing the perfect smuggling ship--not that the League needed better smugglers. For a while, he thought the old Mariposa and its twin, the Mariposa II, were the culmination those efforts, but no, he needed to tweak a few things. Those tweaks Led to the creation of this ship, the Algonquin. I give him a month before he lays down the keel of its successor. It's not that the Algonquin lacks any amenity required by a member of the Smuggler's League. My husband just loves to build ships.
"Harm, where are the windscreen posts?" I asked as I looked from one side of the cockpit to the other.
He tore his gaze away from the view of the looming station. "New screen material formulation. The manufacturer worked with some Cube scientists to come up with a transparent material that is stronger than hull plating. The next step is to build the entire ship out of it."
I chortled, but stopped when I saw the look on his face. "You're kidding, right?"
He shook his head while getting back to steering the ship. I went back to enjoying the view.
I pointed at something odd sitting just off the station. "What kind of ship is that?" I asked. It was big, dented, and misshapen. It looked like a collection of large cylinders and rectangular transportainers attached to three over-sized engines. Underneath was a set of rings aft, and I swear, a conical net
at the front which attached to the last ring at the center of the ship.
"That, my love, is a garbage scow, one of the hardest ships in the League to pilot."
"Damn, I thought garbage trucks were green. What’s with all the pieces?"
"Station trash is heavy, which is one reason why the ship has three large engines. Anything not recyclable is collected at stations that ring the structure. The scow moves around the station, triggering ejectors that shoot out trash bundles known as packages. The scow collects the packages in the cone-shaped net. When it finishes a collection cycle, it moves out to a designated position where it shoots the packages into the nearby star using the linear accelerator on its underside."
"Those rings?"
"Yep. They're the other reason why the engines are so large. Those rings take a lot of power. Trash is collected twice a station day. It takes a lot of skill to catch those packages."
"How do you know so much about this particular subject?"
"I did a short stint as a scow pilot before we got back together." He dug his wallet out of his pocket and showed me a card. "I'm still a member in good standing of the Scow Pilots Union."
I took the card and examined it. Damn, it was real. "What else have you done that I don't know about?" I asked while handing the card back.
"Ever hear of Elf Love?"
"The male stripper review? Noooooo!" Though, come to think about it, he had the build... Noooooo!
He smiled as he got back to driving.
###
Harm handed the valet a hundred-credit note and told him to take their bags to the Tryton-Pyruny. Once ahe--the valet was a Torsan midlin--was gone, Harm took me by my arm and escorted me across the deck to the promenade area. "What, no transport tube?" I asked while giving him a once-over. Instead of his usual shipboard outfit of slacks, boots and a billowing white blouse, he chose to go with leather pants, Ventosian butterfly boots, a black cotton blouse, all under a full-length black leather duster. He topped off the ensemble with an authentic Australian black leather Akubra hat with cutouts for his elongated ears. His coat, meanwhile, was slit to allow his tail out to flaunt a polished silver tip spike. I wore something similar--thigh-high leather boots, a mid-length, high-waisted, black, leather skirt under a mid-waist white blouse topped with a black leather flyer's jacket worn over the shoulder. Hey, I have the body to pull this off, so why not.
"I think we've made a statement," Harm said as he scanned the staring crowd from under his hat.
"I don't doubt it," I said as I smiled as the crowd. "We look like Scorpion Woman and her sidekick, Death, from Bobby's comic books. This must be what it’s like for Gloria when she attends those Cosplay conventions."
Harm and I continued across the deck until we were stopped by a group of seven young Tralaskan males. "Who gave you freaks permission to walk across my deck?" one of them asked. He was tall, blonde, and built like a runner. More importantly, he had no family sigil, none of them did.
They were a lone wolf pack, and we were their prey.
Before I could say anything, Harm walked up to him and slowly looked down. The kid was at least a foot shorter than Harm. You could smell their confusion. Most of the time, the prey would beg for mercy. I guess they never met a Prince of Ventos Prime before.
"Which family are you boys trying to impress," Harm said as he continued to stare down at the lad.
"What's it to you, elf? My boys and I will carve you up, then we'll take our liberties with your earther whore.
Right. These pups are as much a threat to me as a preschool class. It was Harm that I was worried about.
"What did you say, punk?" Harm said as he slowly placed himself between them and me while his tail went into strike position. That silver tip was a formidable weapon on the tail of someone skilled in its use.
Harmon was very skilled.
Before things got further out of hand, a voice cut through the tension. "Traylon, stand down this instant!"
I turned and saw the owner of the voice standing off to one side, her fists on her hips. I looked closer, and saw ears long and pointed, like Harm's. She also had a long, slender tail that slowly moved from left to right, then back again. Her eyes, though, told the story. They weren't elf. They weren't human. They were Tyen. I was looking at a Tyen-elf halfling.
The seven lads immediately went to one knee. "Lady Linka, we meant no harm," Traylon said, his voice shaking in fear.
"My prince, your wish?" Linka asked Harm.
Traylon's head snapped up to look at Harm. "Prince?"
"Prince Lucien Irithyl of Ventos Prime. The lady you insulted is his wife, General Marta McMurphy of the Elf Marine Expeditionary Force. You’re blessed she didn't rip your miserable hearts out of your scrawny chests."
"Milady, they were obviously unaware of our identities. I have no further interest in this matter." Harm said while maintaining eye contact with Traylon.
"The prince is wise. You seven, get out of my sight!" Linka hissed. The boys fled while bowing to the three of us. It was fun to watch.
Linka watched as the seven disappeared into the crowd before turning her attention to the two of us. "Harmon, Gen. McMurphy, my apologies for the actions of those hooligans."
"Please, call me Marta," I said as I shook hands with her. Her grip was like a vise. Who the hell thought an elf-Tyen hybrid was a good idea? This woman would give Team One a run for their money.
"Marta, this is Lady Linka Veraska, my dear friend. I worked with her during my stint aboard the LWS Septar," Harm explained.
"So, you're the reason he nearly died pulling that stunt on Segue Six? I am honored to finally make your acquaintance," she said while spearing me with those eyes of hers.
"Yes, well that was all in the past," Harm said as he danced our way out of a confrontation between Linka and me. I found her off-putting, almost menacing.
We resumed our stroll to the transport tube station. "Where are you heading?" Linka asked as she took Harm's other arm.
"The Tryton-Pyruny. We're here to visit with some of my children."
"Children?! I thought you only had one, an elfling daughter named Aerith."
"We have six children, now--four daughters and two sons."
"Impressive," she said. I think I saw jealousy in the look she gave me. Like I said, I had the body to rock this outfit.
"Yes, they are. How's Rayna doing these days? I hear your spouse's singing career has taken off."
"Yes, she is an amazing woman."
We stopped as a diplomatic transport pulled-up in front of us. "May I give you a lift?"
"Harm, if you don't mind, I'd like to get acquainted with the station."
"Marta's right," Harm said while giving me a hug. "I need a walk, but maybe next time."
"Until next time," Linka said as she shook my hand, then hugged Harm before getting into the transport. In a moment, the big elf and I were alone.
"You turned her down? Are you some kind of zombie?"
Harm tripped over his coat, nearly falling flat on his face in the process. "What?"
"You. Her. Doing the bedtime mumbo? Harm, she has the hots for you."
"What? Linka? Oh hell no. We're just friends. Anyway, she's married to a Tralaskan nobleman, one of the few."
"Isn't polyamorism an accepted practice on Tralaska, especially for the heads of families?"
Harm scrunched up his face. "I'm a monogamous elf, and you are my one and only love, so stop worrying. Have you always been this suspicious?"
I pulled my gaze from him and hung my head in embarrassment. "Since we've gotten back together? Yeah, a little," I said.
Even though we were in the middle of a crowded corridor, he took me in his arms and gave me a long, long kiss. "You have nothing to worry about, so stop it.
I nodded while we continued to walk. He was right; I was being silly. Sure, Linka was the embodiment of an elf goddess, but I had an advantage over her and every other female in the universe--Harm loved me and only me. I sudde
nly felt much better.
Harm and I continued down the concourse. Around us walked members of most of the League species and many I didn't recognize. Being out on the edge of League space, Tryton hosted everyone and anyone who stopped by. As we made our way to the hotel, we stopped and bought a station map at a small convenience shop filled with souvenirs and knick-knacks. I opened it and scanned the legend. "Here it is, the sports complex," I said while pointing to a large area of the map. "According to this ad, the hotel runs shuttles there on a continuous basis."
"Great. We can check-in, get changed, and go surprise the kids," Harm said, gleefully.
"I like the way you think, elf," I replied while paying for the map. I suddenly had the urge to see my kids and make sure they were all right.
Chapter 10 - Rebuilding Brenda
An hour and two transports later, we found ourselves standing inside the sports complex in more appropriate attire, which means slacks and cotton blouses, with our hair tied back in ponytails.
"May I help you?" a man asked us. He was Tralaskan and wearing an usher's uniform.
"Yes," I said while taking the lead. Harmon warned me that the matriarchy thing went deep in these parts. "I am looking for competitor stall eighty-two-A under the name of Team Luciana."
"One moment, mistress. Yes, here it is. Please, follow me," he said before leading us through the crowd. We were led out of the public areas and into the restricted areas where the athletes trained with their suits. I recognized several team members from my days in the space marines. Some waved, some saluted, but I was thrilled to see every one of them. As we approached the kid's area, I could hear my daughter giving my son some sisterly advice.
"What the plark are you doing, Moron? You can't swap out those components without telling me! How the plark am I supposed to update the program database if you don't tell me this shit!"
I stood there and marveled at Bobby's calm demeanor in the face of Hurricane Christa.
"Isn't she wonderful?"
Standing next to me was a young man, about Christa's age. He watched her with rapt attention as she berated her brother. My mom alarms went off. This boy had it good for my daughter. "Yes, yes she is," I said while glancing at Harm.