by C. Gockel
Handing her the magazine, he said, “Why don’t you try hitting the target?”
Her eyes narrowed at him, but she assumed the stance she’d decided she liked best— foot of dominant hand back slightly, body square to target. She let her knees bend and leaned forward this time, arms not shaking a bit. “It’s so much lighter!” Alexis exclaimed and actually smiled.
Expression becoming serious again, she took a deep breath, fired, and hit the target a little off center. Lowering the weapon, she took a deep breath and tried again. And again. And again.
Sebastian whistled. “Not bad, ma’am. You got a nice triangle there.”
“Not a diamond, though,” Alexis scowled. “And if I have to lower the pistol and take a deep breath before each shot, I’m as good as—” She huffed and raised her left hand in a dismissive motion.
“It’s your first time,” Alaric said. “Your first time it’s good to go slow and it’s all right to make mistakes.”
The scowl melted into a smirk, as though prompted by a secret joke. She could be quite witty. Alaric’s eyebrow lifted. “What? Tell me.”
Alexis’s lips formed an o. She cast a furtive glance at Sebastian—his back was to them, but he was close. She cast another glance at Alaric, bit her lip, and flushed.
Oh. Alaric remembered when he’d given that same speech about first times after their wedding. He smiled. It was funny.
Alexis smiled back at him; for a moment, they were smiling at the same time. And then her smile dropped so quickly he wondered if that moment of shared humor had angered her. Turning back to the target, she finished the magazine, shooting no faster than she had before.
Alexis finished one more magazine, and the target—a polymer sheet made for phasers’ heat, not for projectiles—was ribbons.
“I’ll change it,” Alaric said, new poly sheet target already in hand.
He took a step toward the target, and Alexis said, “I did talk to Holly about my other problem.”
She was going to talk about such personal matters now? Barely managing to keep a straight face, Alaric looked over his shoulder. Sebastian was prowling at the edge of the trees, thankfully out of earshot.
“She said it usually resolves after the birth of another child.” Alexis’s face crumpled, as though she might cry, but she didn’t. “If the birth goes well. If the doctor isn’t…”
A bloody bastard who needs his hands broken.
“...aggressive,” Alexis finished.
She was saying they needed to make another baby. Normally he wasn’t against it—or against just practicing—but he did like it when his wife enjoyed herself. She could still have pleasure, just not in the baby making part, which made things awkward and uncomfortable all around.
Alexis slammed a magazine into the pistol. “I want a girl next time.”
“Ah…that’s not something I can promise,” Alaric said, eyebrow rising.
“I know that. Still, if it’s not a girl, it will be your fault.” The tiniest of smirks touched her lips.
She was joking with him again.
“Far be it from me to argue with a woman with a pistol,” he replied, smirking himself.
The smirk stretched into a grin. “You ought not.”
For a moment it, was like they were almost friends. And then Sebastian’s radio crackled. “Something’s up at the house,” he said. “Your mother is—”
“Alaric!” Alaric’s mother’s voice, loud and startled, rang down the hills.
Rushing to the edge of the trees, he saw her racing down the hill, silhouetted against the sky, skirts swirling, fair hair flying. He was running toward her an instant later. “What’s—?”
A sonic boom cracked louder than thunder, cutting off his words, and the Merkabah was suddenly behind her like a giant, black bird.
Reaching him, clasping his arms, she shouted over the roar of its engines. “You’re needed. They wouldn’t tell me what for.”
Even remote places like his parents’ farm was in earshot of air raid sirens, dutifully tested once a month at ten a.m. on Tuesdays. If the Dark was on Luddeccea, the air raid sirens would be on. Every person would know to go to their home and turn on their radios for instructions. But that the Merkabah was here could only mean the Dark had struck. He swallowed. Libertas? Atlantia? God, let it be a small icy rock.
The Merkabah flew over the hollow, circled midair, and initiated its landing sequence atop the hill just north.
Not letting go of his mother, he pulled her across the flat of the hollow. “You’re not in immediate danger, Mother.”
Reaching Alexis, he said, “Keep the pistol on you. There’s a holster in the bag. Sebastian can show you how to biometrically activate it.”
Alexis stared at him blankly. She’d already tucked the evidence away, he noted.
“Please,” he urged.
She nodded barely perceptibly. And then her eyes went past him, and she shrieked, clutching her hand to her mouth. Alaric spun just in time to see Solomon slinking from the picnic basket. Half kneeling, Alaric held out an arm, and Solomon sprang upon it and crawled up to his shoulder. On the hilltop, the Merkabah was dropping a gangplank.
“Mother, say goodbye to Father for me,” Alaric said, turning briefly to her and catching her in a hug. She nodded against his chest, and he could feel the dampness of tears against his shirt. Turning back to his wife, he took a step toward her. “Alexis…”
Her face was expressionless. She nodded. “Go.” Her posture was ramrod straight, hands at her sides. The fragile camaraderie between them had broken.
“Right,” he said, but hesitated. “Tell the boys—”
“I will.” Her posture did not change.
They’d just been talking about making a baby together. Solomon cheeped sadly near Alaric’s ear. Was the unemotional person in front of him who she was or who she thought she was supposed to be? With a huff of exasperation, he grasped her upper arms and kissed her forehead. She didn’t bend or soften.
Without looking back, Alaric half jogged, half strode up the hill, Solomon’s claws digging into his skin. Guardsmen came to attention as he reached the gangplank. To Ko, his new first, Alaric said, “Where is it?”
Silently he begged, please be an icy moon or an asteroid far from the central system.
“It’s the Republic, sir. System 5, the main planet...We’re being asked to assist.”
Alaric almost exhaled in relief before remembering that was much, much worse.
21
Battle Lines
Galactic Republic: Time Gate 1
“What is going on in System 5, Bracelet?” Volka asked, slipping on her boots in her quarters in the Diplomatic Corps’s residence.
Voice in a robotic data dump, Bracelet said, “I’m not tapped into Galactic Intelligence, so all reports I can give are from holocasters. Time Gate 5 is secure.”
“Thank God,” said Volka.
“Err…I’d thank the System 5 Local Guard,” Bracelet interjected, but continued, “Unregistered vessels initiated an attack on the main planet.”
Volka hadn’t put her helmet on, and her ears went back at that.
Picking up the final glove, Volka’s brow furrowed and she turned it around in her hand. “This glove is different.”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” Bracelet said, sounding very satisfied. “I ordered it when I ordered your new clothes. It will hardlink me directly to the suit, so you never have to worry about jammers disconnecting me—”
“So, no matter what, you’ll be able to talk to Suit all the time!” Volka exclaimed. “How lovely for you both.”
“Err…” Bracelet cleared her throat. “I am more concerned with keeping you alive if you fall unconscious, but yes. Also, see the little window on the wrist?” Volka blinked. There was a disc of transparent plastic at the wrist of the glove, about the diameter of a Luddeccean watch face. Bracelet hummed happily. “I’ll be able to see and project holos through it, so you don’t have to take it off.”
&nbs
p; Volka’s eyes widened. Bracelet would be able to project holos and “see” even if the three of them—Suit, Bracelet, and Volka—were in vacuum. “I always knew you were brilliant, Bracelet.”
“Err…” There was a knock at her door and Bracelet whispered, “That’s Sixty.”
For a heartbeat, Volka hesitated. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice. Had he really asked her to marry him minutes ago? Could he really flip a switch and be monogamous? Of course he could—she’d seen a monogamous version of his, well, species, in New Grande. But part of her felt like she had accepted too quickly because it would tie up a part of her life very neatly. If they were married, she wouldn’t have to leave the asteroid, and wouldn’t have to say goodbye to her best friend. Maybe she was just living in dreamland, like she had when she’d been with Alaric.
Nervously licking her lips, she straightened. The door was ether dependent, so she said, “Please let him in, Bracelet.” The door slid open, and Sixty was there, wearing a Fleet envirosuit that made him blend into the residence’s white walls. He held his helmet in one hand, and he looked as handsome as ever, but his chin was dipped, his eyes were narrowed, and he was frowning. His free hand was clenched in a fist at his side.
Volka’s ears curled, sure she’d fallen over the precipice and at any moment she’d shatter on rocks. He looked murderous, and it was strange to think of him that way. She waited for, “We acted in haste. We aren’t suited. It was a mistake.”
Instead, Sixty said, “I wish I could take you and Carl back to the asteroid and lock out the universe.”
…And she wasn’t crashing to the ground. She was still aloft. Still in shock, she realized, still wondering about the speed of it all, but hopeful. He had a colorful past—but could be more faithful than a human. And she—well, she’d nearly been involved with a married man. If Sixty hadn’t bumped into Alaric and her aboard the Merkabah. She blinked. He’d carried her away like a bride from that scene when she fractured her leg. A sex ‘bot and a weere, they were an odd couple, but maybe, just maybe, they were meant to be. She smiled sadly. “I wish you could, too.” Had she found a home for her heart to be safe just as everything else was going to hell? Stepping toward him, she held up a hand to his cheek. Rising to her tiptoes, she demanded, “Kiss me,” because it was suddenly urgent he do so. She needed confirmation of his commitment.
His lips were on hers a moment later. The arm with the helmet went around her back, and he must have ripped off his glove because a moment later she felt his free hand on the back of her head, fingers running through her hair, heat trailing in their wake. Her own fingers skimmed his cheek. They were separated by layers of protective suiting, but it felt like nothing at all. And then Bracelet started to chime. Volka’s ears went back, and she dropped to her heels. Sixty was tall, and she felt a strain in her neck—but she relished it as much as the taste of him on her lips. Bracelet stopped chiming.
Tapping his temple, he said, “I told the team we’re on our way.”
They stepped out into the hallway, and Carl came hopping toward them. Not slowing, Sixty bent forward and held out his arm. Carl leapt up and scurried to his shoulder. Volka could feel the werfle’s tension in the pit of her stomach, and Sundancer’s, too. The ship knew something was happening, something dangerous, and Volka could feel her spaceship friend’s desire for Sixty, Carl, and Volka to be aboard. She found herself walking faster, and her brow furrowing.
“I thought that it would come to Kanakah first,” she said, remembering previous conversations.
Sixty grimaced. “It probably did, and we should have expected this. The Kanakah Cloud is vast and not particularly well patrolled. A small private gate like the one to the pirates’ planet wouldn’t be noticed—and we already knew that there were infected pirates.”
“And from there they went to System 5?”
“Probably not,” he said. “They probably went to System 6 first. There’s been unrest there for hundreds of years, and where there is unrest, there is lawlessness.”
“Ooh…” said Bracelet. “More pirates!”
“Yes,” Sixty explained, “Kanakah and System 6 are where the disease grew in strength. System 5, with all its trade with System 6, was the next obvious target.”
Volka’s ears flicked. “How could pirate vessels get past System 5’s Local Guard?” She’d never heard of such a thing happening in the Republic. She looked up to him and saw a muscle in his jaw jump. “That is the big question.”
Their footsteps echoed in the hallway. A few members of the Diplomatic Corps came out of their suites, ducked their heads, and retreated.
Volka’s ears quivered. “Michael, the student activist in the riot in New Grande said that System 5’s Local Guard would use draftees as phaser fodder against pirates…” Her voice trailed off to a whisper. “...in System 6.”
Carl squeaked. Sixty halted. Volka met their eyes in turn. Were they thinking what she was thinking?
Carl touched his nose. “Contacting my species now.”
Taking her hand, Sixty broke into a jog and spoke in a robotic voice. “Contacting Noa…”
Sixty and Volka charged hand-in-hand into the foyer. Ramirez and Jerome were waiting for them there—Sixty didn’t let go.
Volka knew Time Gate 1 listened in on everything Sixty and James did. Normally, the gate was a silent observer, but his voice suddenly piped through Bracelet and boomed through speakers on the wall. “I have commandeered a cab for you. It will be outside in 3.1 seconds.”
“What—?” Jerome asked, eyeing the speakers in alarm.
Breaking from a jog to a sprint, Volka said, “System 5’s Local Guard may be compromised!” And since System 5’s Local Guard had “secured” Time Gate 5, the gateway to thousands of outposts all over the galaxy, the whole galaxy might be compromised. Sixty and Volka raced through the front door and out onto the main thoroughfare of Time Gate 1, the Marines were only a step behind. A driverless hover sank from the ceiling, and its four doors lifted open. Volka jumped in. Clasping a squealing Carl around his neck, 6T9 somersaulted through the air over the hover and took the seat beside her. Ramirez followed 6T9, and Jerome jumped in behind Volka. Time Gate 1’s voice crackled over the hover’s speakers. “Hang on!” And then the hover was in the air before the Marines had sat down, Volka had strapped in, or the doors had even shut completely. The lights on the promenade dimmed; hovers and humans pulled to the side. Volka was slammed into her seat as the hover accelerated through the gate’s promenade. The doors slammed shut, and the hover was eerily silent. It smelled like new upholstery. Outside the windows the world blurred by. Volka looked to Sixty. His jaw was hard, his eyes ahead, but he turned to her and held out his hand. She took it, heart beating at the danger and the gesture.
Clutching his snout, Carl moaned on Sixty’s shoulder. “There is so much fear aboard Time Gate 5. It’s hard for Butterball and the others to get a fix on anything.”
Volka was flung against her safety straps as the hover decelerated suddenly in a busy section of the promenade. Her teeth rattled, but the suit spread the impact across her body, and she wasn’t hurt. They continued at a more sedate pace. Knowing what was happening in Time Gate 5—or what could be happening—the slow speed was maddening.
Sixty’s brow furrowed. “If the system’s Local Guard is compromised, Gate 5’s decks reserved for the Guard should be sealed.”
Ramirez spoke from the back. “Don’t suppose we’d have any luck getting System 5’s local government to put those decks on lockdown?”
Jerome grumbled. “Pols won’t do that without hard proof and by the time that happens…” He made a noise low in his throat.
Volka blinked. “What about Time Gate 5? He can lock down the Guard levels.”
Time Gate 1’s voice crackled in the speakers. “I have suggested it. He hesitates...he is afraid that such an action might invite retaliation if the Guard isn’t compromised.”
Volka’s stomach knotted, remembering the
half-destroyed structure that was Time Gate 8 above her homeworld. Time Gate 5 wasn’t being paranoid.
“Trina!” said Jerome suddenly, calling Time Gate 33 by the name the human man she’d loved had given her. “She said that when the Dark took over her people, they stopped using the ether to talk to each other.”
Ramirez leaned forward in the seat. “Time Gate 1, tell Time Gate 5—”
Time Gate 1’s voice rumbled in the hover. “I have done so. Gate 5 still hesitates.”
Volka’s eyes widened. “Sixty, you tell him!”
“Me?” said Sixty.
“All the ‘bots on System 5, they all love you!” Volka declared.
“What?” said Jerome, Gate 1, and Ramirez in unison.
Sixty flushed. “It’s not love. Time Gate 5 programmed them…” He winced.
The hover picked up speed again, Volka, the Marines, and Sixty slammed back into their seats.
Volka squeezed Sixty’s hand. “Because Time Gate 5 has a crush on you.” The last came out a growl…even though Volka suspected it was a very non-sexual crush, since Gate 5’s robots had told her sex and even eating were “base.”
Sixty stared at her.
“You have to try, Sixty,” she whispered.
Carl’s whiskers trembled. “You must.”
Nodding, Sixty sat up straight, and his eyes lost focus.
The hover slowed, dropped a level, and an instant later, they were on the Fleet deck at a checkpoint. Ramirez, or Jerome, or even Gate 1 must have transmitted something because a heavy metal airlock door ground open. Men in Fleet camouflage uniforms with enormous, dangerous-looking firearms Volka couldn’t identify waved them through.
They zipped into Sundancer’s berth and settled to the floor. The doors lifted open. No one moved. Sixty was still focused on nothing. Outside the hover, Marines in envirosuits were standing in neat lines. A civilian wearing a drab envirosuit, and with the largest neural port Volka had ever seen, was standing beside them. The man was staring at a tablet—seemingly oblivious to the world.