The Marine's Queen

by Susan Kelley

  “We’re just another morsel of food for them,” Kam said in a flat voice.

  “Do you think Tar got out of the way?” Riba asked as she helped the doctor wrap a bandage round Kam’s chest and back.

  “He wouldn’t have moved out of the way,” Webb answered. “If he was lucky, they went around him.”

  Kam finally sighed but not with physical pain. He hung his head. “They killed two of us the first time they swarmed.”

  No one spoke after that. When Webb finished with him, Kam stood vigil by the door. He accepted water from Riba but all his attention was directed to his duty.

  The night had reached its darkest before they heard voices outside. Kam opened the door only enough to slip out and then closed it behind him.

  “Aren’t they freezing out there?” Callie asked.

  Webb picked Kam’s torn shirt off the bench and held it out to her. “Why don’t you take this out to Kam? Joe won’t give you hell like he would me.”

  Callie read the challenge in the doctor’s gaze. She snatched the shirt from him and marched out the door. The cold air took her breath.

  “Get back inside,” Joe ordered. The marines stood in a circle near the boarks’ pen. The cold moonlight shined on a small bundle at their feet.

  “I brought Kam his shirt.” Callie stepped closer. She could see their faces were dirty, a bit bloody and even grimmer than usual.

  “Thank you.” Kam took the tattered shirt.

  “Go back inside, Callie,” Joe said again. “Please.”

  “Where’s Tar.” Something about the still night made her whisper.

  Joe gestured at the bundle near his feet. A pile of rubble lay on a dirty camouflage scrap. Callie took one step closer. A long bone and bits of white tendons stood out against bloody strips of flesh. Tar!

  Chapter Seven

  “They’re burning his remains?” Callie shaded her eyes against the rising sun. Her stomach still quivered and rumbled. Why hadn’t she listened to Joe when he first told her to go inside?

  “They’ve always cremated their dead since I’ve known them. Kam mentioned something once about being used as laboratory specimens if they took the bodies back with them,” Webb explained. “Are you feeling better, Callie?”

  “I’ve never seen anything so horrible.” Callie swallowed bile rising in her throat again. She had emptied her stomach until there was nothing left but a bitter mouthful of clear fluid.

  Webb put a comforting hand on her shoulder as they stood together and watched the men surrounding the flames a hundred yards away.

  “How do they get used to it?” Callie wondered.

  “They don’t get used to it. They were forced to hide their emotions as children. Any boy that cried was culled. They learned fast.”

  “Culled?” Cold flowed over Callie’s skin as if someone had dumped ice water on her head.

  Webb nodded. “The reports I read said six of their group were lost that way. Others were culled later.”

  “Later?” Callie could barely form a thought over the horror of it.

  “They did away with two boys who apparently grew to care too much for each other during their teen years. Another boy hesitated to kill and one didn’t take orders so well. I think the last one didn’t deal well with space travel.” Webb’s matter of fact rendition of the murders made it more horrifying.

  “How many were there originally?”

  “Fifty super babies, all created in the same lab. None of them exactly the same, although certain physical parameters were designed for each one. They strove for the most efficient body build and height.”

  Callie studied the marines, nothing how only Kam varied widely in their physical structure.

  Webb’s tone became pure mockery. “They hired women to carry them and kept the pregnant ladies in strict conditions. Their diets and exercise routines followed exact specifications. Three of the newly born infants were considered inferior. They were destroyed the first week.”

  “Who made these inhumane decisions?”

  “The same monsters that created our boys. Perhaps these early casualties were the lucky ones.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “If you had seen the data on how they trained those young boys, you would agree. I’m constantly amazed at how normal they can be at times.”

  Before Callie could probe for details about the training, the marines started back toward them.

  The men were still dirty and bloody from the previous night. Nothing could be read from their faces. Despite their lack of sleep, their posture and steps were as military smart as ever. They began to drag the bodies of the dead rats away from the barracks.

  “We can help with that,” Callie said.

  Joe froze as he bent toward another rat. He straightened slowly. “No.”

  Something about the one word answer, reminiscent of their first days together, pierced Callie’s heart. “Yalo, get the others.”

  The women must have been watching because they hurried outside before Yalo could summon them.

  “No,” Joe repeated. His blue eyes, so dark and bleak, were nonetheless filled with the force of his will.

  “We’ll throw sand over the mess after you move them,” Callie compromised, not wanting to butt heads with him. Not now while the fires of Tar’s pyre still licked the sky.

  Joe nodded and returned to his gory work. The mid day temperatures had reached dangerous levels by the time they lit a fire beneath the mass of rodent corpses. After the flames caught, the men slipped away to the shower room Mak had designed and built.

  Callie led her people inside where they prepared a meal. Though she still wouldn’t consider putting any food in her stomach, the men would be hungry.

  Hair damp and faces scrubbed, the marines should have looked more like the engineers they’d acted as during the last few weeks. But they didn’t. Grimness hung about them like a vapor cloud around an active volcano. Energy snapped invisibly with their movements. Death walked in the depths of their seemingly blank eyes.

  The men ate like automatons, much like Callie’s first thoughts about them. The meal progressed in uncomfortable silence. The women ate little.

  Poor little Glory nibbled at her food while stealing glances at the grownups. She tugged at her mother’s blouse. “Momma, where’s Tar?”

  As one, the marines froze in mid-bite. Joe put down his fork, stood up and walked out. A rush of scorching air swept into the room as he pulled the door closed.

  “Tar’s gone to be with the Spirit Father,” Grace answered.

  “Did the monsters get him?” Glory persisted.

  The other marines rose and left also, leaving behind their half-eaten meals.

  “Tar was protecting us,” Grace began, but her voice broke and she couldn’t continue.

  “Can I kiss him good-bye?” Glory asked, distress in her little voice.

  Webb cleared his throat. “You can say farewell to him after the hot time. We’ll all see his spirit off. Joe will lead us in a memorial service.”

  * * * *

  They shoveled sand over Tar’s ashes and covered it all with a mound of the red stones common in the hills. The grave joined seven others. The men stood on one side, the women on the other.

  Callie expected Joe to say some words, but he stood as silently as the other men. A breeze ruffled his short hair and plastered his shirt against his body. He lifted his face to the hot wind as if in defiance of any force other than himself, his eyes closed. Then he started to sing and the other men joined him.

  She should have guessed their voices would be as beautiful as everything else about them. The deep voices and the solemn melody reminded her of ancient societies and dark, majestic temples long lost in time. The words added to the sense of something sacred and tragic.

  “The voyage was filled with danger,

  But you found the way around.

  They would have had your soul,

  If Unon had not been found.

  Rest
here a while, our brother,

  We’ll join you there soon.

  We leave this place of no mother,

  No father, no friends, no boon.

  Only with us are our brothers,

  And Unon who welcomes us home.

  Fare you well, our brother.

  So long, my brother.

  My brother.”

  Callie blinked several times, but her emotions spilled from her eyes. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Webb handed her a small glass vial. She hated him for it, but she used it to catch the salty droplets.

  “It will at least help heal their physical wounds,” Webb whispered.

  Hearing her friends sniffling and weeping quietly around her made Callie’s tears flow faster. Weakness crept up her legs.

  Joe swept his sharp gaze over the grieving women before settling it on Callie. He spoke in a cold, empty tone. “Weep not for his death, but for the sorrow and loneliness of his life.”

  Recalling her earlier prejudices and doubts about the marines, Callie cried even harder with shame and regret.

  Joe stepped toward her at the same time she felt Yalo’s arm going around her waist. Even feeling her tears draining her strength to dangerously low levels, Callie couldn’t stop her sobs.

  He caught her as her legs gave way. He lifted her with an arm around her shoulders and one beneath her knees.

  Callie turned into his chest, her tears fall uselessly onto his shirt.

  Joe grunted as the liquid elixir soaked through the thin material and contacted his skin. He walked toward the barracks. “Stop it, Callie. You’ll kill me with goodness and healing.”

  Her tears stopped as she wondered if Joe was trying to be funny. He often amused her though not on purpose.

  He seemed to sense her gaze on him and looked down at her. His emotions shone with naked intensity in the dark blue depths of his eyes. The euphoria of the elixir battled with pain, grief and a hint of despair. He blinked and the glimpse of his soul ended. He set her down in front of the door, keeping his arm around her until her legs steadied.

  Callie wanted to say something, but she feared speaking would start her tears again.

  Joe inhaled as if gathering himself and stared at some point over her head. “Thank you for shedding tears for Tar. He would have liked that.”

  Joe spun and walked toward the others returning from the grave before she could think of a response. His posture was military erect but still graceful.

  Callie chided herself for noting his physical beauty at such a time and then realized she’d been taking him and all the marines’ physical attributes for granted lately. Puzzled by the realization, she delved further into her self-examination. She still longed for his presence, lusted to taste his kiss again, but she could no longer tell herself it was because of his handsome face.

  Roz lifted Glory onto his shoulders as he walked with Grace toward the little house they shared. Despite the mark of recent tears, Grace’s face glowed as she looked up at him.

  Callie looked at the others. Yalo and Vin entered her one-room cottage. Hulking Kam carried tiny Sally in one arm and his other held Riba close to his side. Acacia and Mak stood side by side near the small garden they’d started, deep in discussion.

  Joe leaned against the boarks’ pen, his back to her. Alone, as she was.

  “He’s a fine man.” Webb startled her, so deep was she in thought.

  “Yes.” A man she could now admit she cared about.

  Callie walked to join Joe. The dark, cold night approached, and she didn’t intend to spend it alone.

  * * * *

  Joe heard her footsteps approach, and then he smelled her unique scent. A more primal aroma mixed with it. He’d scented her arousal before when they were together but never as strong as it was now. He kept his back to her, knowing his light weight uniform would clearly show his body’s reaction to her.

  “Where have you been sleeping, Joe?”

  As usual, she surprised him with her question. “In the storage building.”

  “Why?”

  His brained locked like it so often did around her. How could he explain that he couldn’t sleep when he could hear her breath? If he heard her roll over or sigh in her sleep, he would lie awake the rest of the night. So when the other men and women moved out of the original barracks so did he.

  “Tar never paired up with anyone.”

  How was he to follow her train of thought? “No, that’s why he or I always took first watch so the others could….” He stopped. He couldn’t explain they did it so the other marines could have sex with the women before they fell asleep.

  “He must have been lonely.”

  Joe shrugged. “He was used to it.”

  “As are you?”

  Joe saw the heat in her eyes and thought it must match the lust in his. “Yes. I’m used to it.”

  “Joe, I see the way you look at me. Why do you resist and avoid me?”

  His heart did the little clench it often did when she cornered him. He struggled for the words and gestured toward the little cabins. “I want what they have.”

  Callie turned her puzzled gaze on the newly constructed dwellings, all of them only one or two rooms. “What do you think they have?”

  He wasn’t sure of the exact answer. “They share a bond, a caring based on more than lust even if it’s only a need to end their loneliness.”

  “And we don’t.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Joe silently agreed.

  “Are we going to live the rest of our lives then, envious of their happiness, both of us alone?” She covered one of his hands with hers where he gripped the top rail of the corral. Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

  Joe cursed quietly, knowing the physical price of her tears and accepting he’d caused them. He pulled her into his arms, folding her tight against him. He’d come to think she was the perfect fit for him with the top of her head only four inches below his.

  She sniffed and buried her face in his shoulder. His shirt muffled her voice. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  Unon help him, he didn’t either. And why not? If all he ever had was her physical desire, it was as much as he’d ever received from another human. It was an honest emotion, a natural drive. Joe pulled away from her. “I need to secure the perimeter flares though I expect no danger tonight. I’ll join you after dark.”

  Callie nodded, her eyes moist but the tears didn’t spill over. She walked toward the barracks, looking back at him more than once.

  Joe headed for the hills protecting their oasis as soon as she entered the building. He found himself hurrying, struggling to keep his mind on his work as he had never had to before. His body ached with anticipation. If the longing for more than physical satiation reared its head, he beat it back. He was a recon marine and knew how to work with what was dealt him.

  * * * *

  Callie worried until she heard him enter. She’d searched through the clothing the marines had recovered from the ship and found her nightgown made of real Flausen silk. She loved the feel of it rubbing against her skin though the sheerness of the fabric made it impractical for Crevan nights. She shivered now, partly from the cold and partly from the emotional turmoil inside herself.

  She’d lied to Joe. Certainly she’d been lonely, but she’d let him believe it was a general thing caused by their circumstances. It wasn’t.

  Bright starlight shone in through the high windows and showed Joe’s outline. His hair gleamed with dampness as if he’d taken the time to bathe.

  Callie considered herself a decisive person, able to make a choice and live with it. To constantly question one’s judgment distracted a leader from the next problem. But she wondered about her decision tonight. In the past, she’d vocalized her criticism of those who held seats of power when they used their positions to take advantage of others. Was she doing that to Joe?

  Joe glided toward her, a dark shadow marked only by a whisper of cloth. His gift
for silence reminded her of his unnatural origins and all her earlier bigotry, suspicions and fears. He shed his clothing and sat on the edge of the cot. “Are you sure, Callie?”

  “I want you tonight,” Callie said quickly before she allowed her fears to change her mind. Another more basic worry threatened the night now. Though she’d turned thirty-three recently, she’d held herself from involvement with men. As queen, many had sought her attention and goodwill using any wiles available. She could have had affairs, no one would have criticized her, but she had enough political intrigue to manage without the problem of a lover.

  Joe lifted the blanket and slid in with her. The narrow bed meant only a hand’s breadth separated them. Almost immediately, his heat warmed the bed.

  “I…,” Callie started, but Joe put his finger across her lips.

  He moved closer and replaced his finger with his mouth.

  Callie’s doubts melted along with her insides. His lips played with hers until she opened for him. His chest pressed against hers as his tongue played across her teeth.

  The silk between their bodies teased her nipples, creating an erotic barrier. He lifted her hand to his shoulder and then smoothed his callused hand up her arm, across her shoulder and continued a slow path down her back.

  His tongue probed deeper into her mouth as his hand on her back crept to her hip. Her mind gave up tracking his actions as desire swept away all but the feel of him, inside her mouth, and pressed against her belly.

  His mouth abandoned hers to rain kisses across her jaw and then down her neck. The muscles of his shoulders bunched and flowed beneath her hands as he pressed her to her back. His easy strength should have frightened her but instead offered her comfort and security.

  One of his legs nestled between hers, bunching her silk gown high on her thighs. The bare skin of his calf burned where it touched her. His kisses didn’t stop. Somehow the thin strap of her gown had slid off her shoulder, giving him access to the crest of her breast.

  She moved her hands from his shoulders to his hair. Until this moment, she’d been positive a breast was only an instrument of motherhood despite what she’d heard. Now she understood. Need pulsed through her. She must have his mouth on her nipple.