The Fighter Queen

by John Bowers

  "Seems like I just did," Lance said. "Boy."

  "I'll kill yew!"

  Lance pushed the bayonet an inch into his stomach and held it there.

  "You got more brave than brains, boy," he said. "Now tell me how big it makes you feel to cut a pretty lady's throat."

  Tears of rage mixed with the blood on the Sirian's face."

  "I'll cut out yewr niggo heart, yew black fuck! Then yew'll know!"

  Lance sighed wearily.

  "You know what, boy? If you said you was just followin' orders, I might be inclined not to kill you. But you just got too much big mouth. So I'm thinkin' you did it because you like it. And I can't see a reason in the galaxy to let you live."

  "Fuck yew!"

  "Keep it up, peckerwood."

  "Yew'll never git outta here alive!"

  "Neither will you."

  Lance took the time to spit in the Confederate's face, then pulled the bayonet back and repositioned it against his throat.

  "Any last words, cracker? Want to apologize to the ladies before you die?"

  The Sirian finally found the wisdom to remain silent, but couldn't stop the tears that coursed down his cheeks.

  "No? Don't wanna say you're sorry?"

  "They're whores," the soldier said. "All of 'em. Just Vegan whores."

  "Even ho's got a right to live, boy."

  "They're all used up. No market for 'em any more."

  "Is that supposed to be an apology?"

  The kid dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling.

  "No. I done nothin' wrong. I ain't sorry."

  "In that case," Lance said deliberately, "neither am I."

  He shoved the bayonet in until it struck stone, twisted it, and jerked it free. Blood and tissue clung to the blade and the Sirian began to flop like an axed chicken, blood spewing into the air around his head; he struggled to breathe, but made only airy sucking sounds. His eyes rolled wildly in their sockets and he finally dropped the knife.

  Lance stepped back, watching dispassionately. He felt sick inside, but like the dying soldier at his feet, regretted nothing.

  Once the soldier stopped moving, Lance wiped the bayonet on his uniform, then slung the rifle and turned to the seven surviving women still shackled to the wall. Beginning with the one the soldier had been about to kill, he manually unlocked the leather restraints around her wrists and released her. She collapsed into his arms, throwing her arms about his neck, sobbing brokenly.

  "Goddess!" she cried. "Thank you! You saved my life!"

  "Sh. It's okay, Ma'am. You're okay. You're safe now."

  He hoped that was true. So far, he was the only Fed infantryman inside the Citadel, and had no way of knowing if more Sirians might suddenly appear. He helped the woman to one of the beds across the room, laid her gently on it, then returned and released the next one. One after the other, the women hugged him as he released them, and two kissed his face in their gratitude. With the gentleness of a father protecting his children, Lance helped them all lie down on empty beds and continued his work.

  The last woman in line was the oldest. She looked about sixty, but he couldn't tell for sure. All the women were unbelievably beautiful. Lance had seen a few Vegans before and understood what that meant, but this last one somehow seemed the most tragic. Her hair had gone silver, her face was lined, but she was still lovely. She'd been minutes away from a hideous death at the hands of a grinning monster, but now she gazed up at him with all the serenity of her fabled Sophia. Lance felt almost as if he were in the presence of his grandmother.

  "You are an angel from the goddess," she told him with a gentle smile. She ran a smooth hand over his cheek. "What is your name?"

  "Private Lance Williams, Ma'am. Eighty-fourth Federation Infantry."

  "You're from Terra."

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  "Thank you for coming to our rescue."

  "Ma'am, I'm just sorry I didn't get here sooner. Maybe I could've saved the other ladies."

  "You did just fine, Private. Sophia sent you in her own time, which is always exactly the right time. Sophia knows exactly what she is doing."

  "Yes, Ma'am. What is your name, Ma'am?"

  "My name?" She smiled again, that same serene smile, as if she'd gone partially around the bend and wasn't fully aware how close she'd come to death. "My name is Marie Pedersen."

  Thursday, 21 July, 0242 (PCC) — New Dallas, Texiana, Sirius 1

  New Dallas had been spared the ravages of war when the Sirian commander in northern Texiana, rather than see it destroyed, had pulled his armies back and vacated the picturesque city.

  Sirian Sinai Hospital had therefore remained undamaged, and was now the most important medical facility on the planet. Located on a hill overlooking the city, it was an imposing structure, easily accessed by orbital shuttles, which could land at the shuttleport just over the ridge; patients could be transferred by ambuhover within minutes.

  Onja Kvoorik walked into the building with a sense of unreality, checked with the medical clerk, and ascended the antigrav lift to the seventeenth floor. The place was crawling with service personnel; so many officers outranked her that she couldn't salute them all. They seemed not to notice, so she abandoned the attempt.

  It was impossible to believe this was real. After all she'd been through, all the years she'd waited; after arriving on Vega too late to find her father still alive … it just didn't seem possible. Yet General Osato had called her personally, so it had to be.

  It had to be.

  She walked slowly down the corridor as if in a dream. Her face felt numb, her skin hot as if with a fever; her heart raced, her scalp tingled. She turned a corner and saw the room number, 1733. Before she reached it, she stopped and moved against a wall, staring at the doorway. She needed the time to breathe deeply, bleed off adrenaline. Somehow she felt certain to be disappointed again. She had to literally force herself to go inside.

  She reached the doorway and stopped, peering through. Four hoverbeds were spaced against the wall, all facing a broad window with a magnificent view of New Dallas. Three of the beds held wounded servicemen and were screened by opaque force fields. A Space Force nurse stood by one, dictating a chart. Onja looked at the fourth bed, and bit her lip in wonder as she saw the frail woman whose head rested on the pillow. The bed was elevated and the woman was sleeping.

  Onja stepped carefully forward and studied her. She was thin and worn, but didn't appear to be ill or injured. Her hair was silver, her face lined, but it was a Vegan face. The woman had high cheekbones, full lips, and a straight, aristocratic nose. In spite of the years, it was familiar. The way I might look twenty-five years from now.

  She stepped close to the bed and stared down, as if observing a dead person. For five minutes she stood there in silence, listening to the easy rhythm of the woman's breathing. It was a peaceful sound, no hint of trauma or terror. Onja didn't know what she'd expected, but it hadn't been this.

  She finally took the woman's hand and held it in both of hers. The skin was soft and warm.

  "Mother?"

  The eyes opened slowly, focused, and Onja stared into crystal blue eyes so very much like her own.

  "Mother, is it really you?"

  Marie Pedersen stared back at the beautiful blonde in the Federation Fighter Service uniform, frowning slightly in puzzlement.

  "Are you Marie Pedersen?" Onja asked.

  "Yes. Who are you?" The voice sounded tired, but was still strong, with a Vegan lilt. Onja's skin tingled and she felt a rush of emotion.

  "It's me, Mother. Onja."

  Marie Pedersen's blue eyes widened slightly. Her lower jaw dropped an inch in disbelief.

  "Onja?" She stared another five seconds, taking in the detail of her daughter's face. She shifted upright in the bed, suddenly trembling. "My goddess! It can't be! Onja?"

  Tears spilled down Onja's cheeks, and she nodded, laughing.

  "Yes, Mother! It's me."

  "My baby? Onja! Oh, godde
ss! Onja!"

  Recognition was confirmed, and Marie's arms reached for the child she had never again expected to see. Onja leaned over the railing and wrapped her own arms around her mother, hugging her carefully, amazed at the strength in the fragile arms that encircled her neck.

  "Onja! Dear goddess! Onja!" Marie collapsed into sobs, shaking and swaying as she held on for dear life. Onja wept openly, too, and for several minutes neither could speak.

  Finally, laughing and crying at the same time, the two women released each other. Wiping her tears, Onja pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning over the railing to hold her mother's hand.

  "How did you get here?" Marie demanded in confusion. "How did you find me? What are you doing in that uniform? Oh, goddess! I don't believe it!"

  Onja laughed, her eyes still streaming.

  "It's a long story, Mother. I'll tell you all of it. But how are you? Were you hurt at all? Are you all right?"

  Marie dropped back against her pillow, never taking her eyes off Onja's face. She sighed.

  "Considering what I've been through the last twenty‑seven years, I'm in pretty good shape. And very lucky to be alive. Onja, how in the name of Sophia …"

  "I've had half the Federation armies looking for you," Onja told her. "As soon as they found you they called me." She shook her head in wonder. "I still can't believe it's true."

  "That uniform — Onja … I never thought I would see you again. I worried about you every day. I know what the Sirians did to young girls. I was terrified it would happen to you, too."

  Onja stared at her soberly.

  "You remember the school administrator? Mr. Armstrong?"

  "Yes. He raped you every day for months. I wanted to kill him!"

  Onja nodded. "That was the worst thing that ever happened to me. God knows that was bad enough, but a lot of girls were murdered."

  "But you survived."

  "Daddy sent me to Terra right after you and Sonja were taken."

  "Terra? How could he do that?"

  "He bribed someone in the SE. I was twelve when I got to Terra. And when the Sirians attacked the Federation, I enlisted in the Space Force."

  Marie blinked at her in disbelief. "That was twenty years ago!" she gasped.

  "Twenty‑two. I've been fighting all that time. I vowed to Sophia that I would find you some day."

  Marie placed a hand over her mouth.

  "You've been fighting all this time?"

  Onja nodded quietly. "I paid them back, Mother. I've killed thousands of Sirians."

  "How could you survive all those years? Millions of people have died in the war!"

  Onja shrugged.

  "Maybe it was Sophia's tears, I don't know. But here I am. And here you are." She bit her lip and began to sob. Marie pulled her hand to her mouth and kissed it, silent tears sliding down her own cheeks.

  "My baby Onja. Thank the goddess! Thank the goddess!"

  Chapter 25

  Displaced Persons Compound, Glenville, Texiana, Sirius 1

  Johnny Lincoln II presented his ID chip to the noncom at the DP camp and waited for her to log him in. He wasn't sure why he was bothering to return here — his first visit had been less than memorable. Tonja Simonian wasn't the most communicative person he'd ever met, and he suspected she hated his guts besides. She'd made it very clear at their first meeting that she was a Sirian at heart, and he doubted much had changed along those lines.

  But Onja had got word that her mother had been located, and had come to see her. Johnny took the opportunity to come here while she did. It had been two months since his last visit.

  "And how long will you be staying, Lieutenant?" the girl at the terminal asked, giving him a bright smile.

  "Just a few hours. I'll be out by the end of the day."

  "Very good, sir. Shall I page Miss Simonian for you?"

  "Yes, please."

  A few minutes later Johnny found himself inside the same room where he'd met Tonja the last time. He stared at the decorative murals on the walls and fidgeted nervously, wondering for the nth time what he was going to say to her. And why he bothered.

  The door opened and she stepped through, staring at him with those same wide green eyes. Despite himself, he felt weak in the knees at the sight of her. She was dressed differently today, wearing a very short dress that hugged her sixteen year‑old curves seductively. Her hair was up, wound around her head in a style he hadn't seen before, leaving her neck and ears bare, accenting her femininity. She looked older; large hoop earrings dangled beside her cheeks.

  "Hi," he ventured.

  "Hi."

  Nothing had changed. She offered no smile, no indication that she was glad to see him; her expression was still unreadable, her voice so soft he barely heard her. Looking at her, he felt a sudden resentment. Why did he waste his time on her? She was nothing but a damned Sirian in a Vegan body. No appreciation, no gratitude, no nothing. Well, fuck it — if she didn't want to see him, he didn't have to hang around.

  "You don't like me, do you?"

  Her golden eyebrows angled downward and she cocked her head slightly in surprise.

  "I don't know."

  "Okay, let me put it this way — I came to see you because I'd like to get to know you better. If you'd rather I didn't come back, I can leave right now. Is that what you want?"

  She was still frowning. "What makes you think I want you to leave?"

  His resentment faded slightly; she was genuinely puzzled. "Because you never say anything."

  "I don't know what to say to you."

  "You could try small talk."

  "What is that?"

  "What is what?"

  "What you said — small talk."

  "Just anything. You know, talk about the weather."

  She frowned. "Why? You already know what the weather is like."

  He sighed. "Forget it. Would you like to take a walk?"

  "If you want to."

  They went out into the compound and Johnny looked around. It was a large camp, stretching half a mile into the distance and covering several acres. Most of the buildings looked like barracks. The perimeter was marked by a forcefence, a barrier of transparent energy that offered a clear view of the horizon in all directions.

  The air was warm but no longer hot; Sirian Summer was over. Sirius B was down and wouldn't be seen again for several months. Sirius A wasn't quite at zenith, and the temperature was pleasant as they began their stroll along the paved path that wound inside the perimeter.

  They walked slowly, in no hurry. Johnny felt a little foolish after the discussion in the visitor room, but tried to melt the ice a little now.

  "How do you like living here?" he asked.

  "You asked me that the last time."

  "Oh. I guess I did. What about your mother? How's she doing?"

  "She's okay."

  "She like it here?"

  "I guess so. But she wants to go to Vega."

  "How about you? You want to go to Vega?"

  Tonja shrugged minutely. "I don't know. I've never been there."

  "Aren't you curious about where your mother came from?"

  "No. Sirius is my home."

  "When the war is over, Sirius is going to be a lot different than it was."

  She didn't respond, only stared at the flowers along the walk.

  "It'll be better," Johnny said.

  "I liked it the way it was."

  He frowned. "You liked the old Sirius?"

  "Yes."

  "How can you say that? You were a slave."

  She turned on him in sudden defiance.

  "I'm a citizen! I'm not a slave!"

  "Your mother was a slave."

  "My father treated her very well. She was happy with him. I was happy with him!" There was an edge to her voice.

  "Okay, I'm sorry. But don't you think your mother suffered when she was stolen from Vega and sold to strangers?"

  "She got over it."

  Johnny stared at her in a
mazement, then took a deep breath; he wasn't going to change her mind. She was sixteen, she knew only one way of life — and it was falling down around her ears.

  "Anyway, things will get better. You'll see."

  They stopped at a fountain and watched the cascading water for a few moments.

  "It would have been okay the way it was," the girl said suddenly, "if the Federation hadn't come and destroyed everything."

  Johnny sat on the edge of the fountain and studied her face for half a minute. She stared back with steady defiance.

  "Do you think the Federation wanted to come here?" he asked. "Did anyone ever tell you how this war started?"

  "Yes. Your side started it."

  His mouth fell open. He almost laughed out loud.

  "Who told you that?"

  "Everybody knows that."

  "They teach you that in school?"

  "Yes."

  "How did we start it? What did they tell you?"

  "They told us the truth. The Federation tried to destroy our economy."

  "How did we do that?"

  "You put an embargo on us. The Federation was our biggest market for raw materials and goods. Without that market, our economy would have crashed."

  Johnny's head was spinning. She actually believed what she was saying!

  "Did they tell you why we put the embargo on you?"

  "Because you wanted a planet that we had."

  "Which planet?"

  She frowned briefly. "Alpha something."

  "Alpha Centauri?"

  "Yes."

  He leaned forward. "Tonja, Sirius invaded Alpha Centauri. It was a peaceful world, had no military, and your side just took it over. Like they took over Vega and Beta Centauri."

  "We made them better. They're happier under our rule."

  "How do you know?"

  "Why wouldn't they be?"

  "Have you been there?"

  "Have you?"

  "Yes. The Centauris hate Sirius, and so do the Vegans who are old enough to remember the invasion."

  "I don't believe you. My mother's from Vega. She doesn't hate Sirius!"

  "Are you sure?”

  Her eyes glittered with anger. "You have all the answers, don't you?"

  Johnny took a deep breath and leaned back.

  "Do you know why I'm here? I came because the Sirians killed my father."