by C. Gockel
A small, vertical line appeared between his brows. “Is that what you have in mind? A secret lover among the ground pounders?”
She pursed her lips. “Well, yes.”
“So it’s: I like you, you like me, let’s sleep together?”
She shifted her eyes away from his watchful scrutiny and leaned over the edge of the bed to fish for her discarded shirt. “Should there be more?”
He watched her pull her shirt over her head and then attempt to untangle her tousled hair. “You don’t have to run from me, Nova. This is not a day for promises. Take what you want; I won’t ask for anything more.”
“I know,” she said softly. “You make me feel safe here.” Then she grinned mischievously. “Of course, we might fall madly in love and then I’d have to become a farmer or you join the ranks of neglected pilot spouses.”
“They’re neglected?”
“Yeah, you don’t get to take one with you until you rank higher. It’s expensive.”
“Doesn’t sound like much fun.” He pushed her shirt out of the way again and then pulled her down to nuzzle her tenderly.
“I should go,” she said and closed her eyes.
“Yes,” he agreed. “In a while.”
Chapter Eight
Her quarters were empty when she returned there. Her roommate, a somewhat bland and overly organized Centauri pilot, had left word that members of all three squads of their wing were gathered in one of the lounges.
Nova felt a twinge of guilt, mostly because the memory of Djari’s skillful hands on her body still lingered in her memory. She dropped her clothes to the floor and stepped into the tiny decon chamber, letting it rinse away the pain and the pleasure that this day had brought. The thought of joining her dispirited team mates filled her with dread but she worried about Rolyn. Drayson was as well-liked as Boker and no doubt the casualties who belonged to the other squad had left a hole in their friends’ lives as well.
She wished Djari was here to join them. His gift for putting others at ease would be welcomed. But even as the thought passed through her musings, she realized that it would not be so. The distance between civilians and Air Command pilots was more than rank. She had been right to quip about falling in love and he had responded in kind. They were worlds apart in the distance her next assignment may bring, in ambition, and in temperament.
Nova dried her hair and caught it up in a loose knot before slipping into a sleeveless blouse and knee-length tights to join her squad. She didn’t want to feel like a soldier tonight. She had missed dinner while in Djari’s much more sustaining embrace but she doubted the others had eaten, either.
When she arrived in the lounge she found them all as depressed as she had expected them to be. Talk around the tables was subdued; the staff kept the music somber and muted, drinks were dispensed in large quantities. Nova slid into a bench where Rolyn stared into his glass while some of her squad mates sat in awkward silence.
She gave his shoulders a quick squeeze.
“You checked out all right?” he said, barely looking up.
“Huh?”
“At the hospital.”
“Yes, I didn’t get hit. I went to check on the others. Tashti was sedated.”
“I saw her earlier,” Lieutenant Cierol said. “She’s got internal damage and a broken leg. They transferred her to Siolet.”
“Do we know what happened?” Nova looked up to signal for a drink.
“They’re still combing through things,” Sulean, across from her, said. “It’s pretty clear that the general was the target. We’re lucky that Thedris was still topside.”
“Their timing was damn excellent,” Nova said.
He nodded. “Whoever planned this must have known that there’d be pilots on that shuttle. Worthwhile target, besides making Deck Two totally useless for a while.”
“Could be a warning of more to come,” she said. “Did Shri-Lan claim this business?”
“No idea. I’d expect so.”
“I wish someone would just wipe that whole bloody faction out,” Rolyn exclaimed forcefully. There were dark rings under his bloodshot eyes. “We know where they are half the time. Let’s just finish this already!”
Nova moved to cover his hand with hers but he pulled it away. “We wait till they hit us and then we slap them around a bit. That’s it. Where’s the offense? The pre-emptive?”
“We do hit them, Rolie,” Nova said. “You were there when we took that Rhuwac nest out. And the transport going to Siolet before that.”
“Those fucking Rhuwacs are nothing! I’m talking about taking out the damn rebel hideouts. They’re not even rebels! Rebels have at least some goddamn ideology, like the Arawaj faction does. The Shri-Lan are nothing but thieves and smugglers. Let’s just get this over with.”
“They’re tucked in with the locals,” Nora reminded him.
“So what! If someone’s hiding rebels let them pay for that. We’ve got twenty-something fighters hanging around up here doing nothing. Fifty on the ground just around the Rim. What are we waiting for?”
“You don’t mean that, Rolie,” Nova said. She had seen the damage rebel presence did even when Air Command was not bent on scorching the lot. Had he?
He looked around the circle of worried faces. “No,” he said glumly. “I guess I don’t.”
“We’ll be concentrating on the jumpsite once we own it,” Sulean reminded him. “We can choke them off at the front door. It’ll make a big difference here.”
Nova listened to talk of attacks and rebels and sabotage until she felt like she might slide from her bench in a puddle of despair. Unable to take much more, she finally excused herself and left the wake, not with another stab of guilt when she felt immediately better after the door to the lounge slid shut behind her.
Not ready for sleep, she wandered through the corridors, finally stopping at the observation window overlooking the open core of the orbiter. She watched a couple stroll through the half-finished green space below her and thought about Djari, of his perfect smile, his soft words and his hands on her body. She wished for him now, here with her. When she let her eyes wander pensively to the stars outside the dome she saw the terrace of the administrative level still brightly lit.
What was going on behind those closed doors? The investigators would be busy going over video recordings, dispersal patterns, injuries, communications and hundreds of other details that were part of the sabotage. None of this would be shared with the pilots and, not for the first time, she wished she were part of that larger view of their military. Those who really understood the rebel factions and who planned for their elimination fascinated her. Like her fellow pilots, she was merely a weapon pointed at a certain target at a certain time. Working diligently toward gaining rank and distinctions would perhaps someday bring her up to that level below the skylight. Until then, she could only wonder about what truly drove their mighty Union.
She continued around the promenade and climbed up to the flight levels. Access to the lower tier of air locks was cordoned off and she stood at the barrier to watch workers in color-coded coveralls still comb through the site while others were already working on repairs. Structural engineers were busy with lasers and analyzers to determine the damage to the adjacent fighter chutes and hangars. Someone was arguing somewhere. Someone else was laughing. As out of place as that seemed, it comforted her.
“Almost bought the farm, didn’t you?” a low voice rolled out to her left.
She turned to peer into the shadows. A hulking figure leaned against the wall, one foot raised and propped up against it. She gasped and took a step back. “Beryl.”
“In the flesh,” he replied but his eyes traveled down along her body when he said the last word, giving it more meaning than it needed. Nova suppressed a shudder and took another step backward.
“No need to run away,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand. “Not scared, are you?”
“Disgusted, maybe,” she said, aware of the sudden
pounding of her heart, unwilling to show the fear that gripped her even here, well in sight of the ground crew and under the scrutiny of the overhead security cameras. She wished for her gun, just to feel its comforting weight at her side. But, unlike on the ground bases, pilots did not walk around an orbiter fully armed.
He snorted something like laughter. Nova frowned and narrowed her eyes to study his shadowed face. His eyes glittered in the dark and his voice had a hollow, dragging tone. The body slumped against the wall was anything but battle-ready.
“You’re stoned!” she gasped. The symptoms he showed looked like the result of ingesting a few pinches of mince . Likely, given his size, more than a few pinches.
His sneer faded from his lips. Slowly, he pushed away from the wall and towered above her until she had to tip her head back to look up at him. She refused to back off another step.
“You haven’t learned to mind your own business yet, Lieutenant,” he said. “Others have, and they’re still healthy.”
“Don’t you threaten me,” she said in a relatively firm voice.
He looked over her shoulder when another member of the security team strolled into the hangar entrance from the hall. “Or what?” Beryl said. “You think it’s worth reporting me? Again?”
She glanced over to the other Centauri silently smirking at her. Was it worth it? A drug-addled soldier who already bore her a grudge? Whose equally ruthless squad would walk through fire if he told them to?
“Get out of my way,” she snarled and stalked away without looking at either one of them again.
The days that followed aboard Skyranch Twelve were both a trial and a joy for Nova. The mood among the pilots had not lifted. The station was on alert but the patrols they flew were merely exercises and make-work and did little to keep their minds from wandering. Every one of them ached to get down to the planet surface where the chance of striking back at the rebel was far more likely.
The leadership recognized their unrest and there was talk about a rotation back to Rim Station to let them all blow off some steam in active patrols.
Nova was torn about that. Nothing gave her more joy than sitting at the controls of her fighter plane, feeling it respond to her mental touch, watching her shadow race over the planet surface. She longed for a deep space assignment but flying within an atmosphere such as Bellac’s made the heart race.
But so did Djari. Nova did not see him on the day after their first intimate encounter, almost glad as she still brooded over both the loss of her wing mate and her ugly encounter with Beryl. It would not do for her to fling herself into Djari’s arms every time she needed comforting like a little girl. She was stronger than that, she thought. Maybe not strong enough to march up to the station commander and give him her view of Beryl and his men. That seemed more like suicide.
She came to him again the following day and the one after that. He welcomed her into his quiet, safe place where they made love and talked a while about nothing at all and then perhaps made love again before parting ways. She reveled in his attention and nearly craved the powerful body that lifted her own to such heights. A rotation to the planet was little enticement to leave his bed.
“Djari?” Nova said when, at the end of a far too long and uneventful shift, her soft knock on his door brought no response. She checked the time to assure herself that he would be expecting her now, at the end of his own day. He had given her access to some of his files and when she checked his location she was told that he was in his cabin. She knocked again and still there was no response.
She placed her hand over the access panel beside the door and, once recognized, stepped into his room. It was a bit of a tumble and Nova wondered if she could dare tidy up in here. Even after just a few days together, his laid-back ways had made it easy to feel unreservedly comfortable around him.
Deciding against housekeeping chores, she pondered over some slides scattered beside an analyzer on the small desk. Curious, she peered into the apparatus to see cell structures which told her absolutely nothing. Djari probably felt the same about her navigational charts. She frowned when she noticed his com band among the equipment, left behind here and the reason why the station’s system thought him to be in his room.
No cause for alarm, she told herself. Djari gladly worked long hours to ensure the success of this new ranch but the thought of being so easily summoned by his superiors for their never-ending emergencies and special projects irked him. She had seen him without the unit before. Likely, she thought, he was on his way here, perhaps with a bottle of wine cadged from the lounge as he had done before.
But she tired of waiting and decided to make her way to the upper grow ring to look for him there. Security had tightened since she had last come this way. She submitted to a retina scan which, once her credentials were verified, exempted her from having her pockets checked and motives questioned.
She asked a few of the workers and biologists about Djari before she was directed to his supervisor, busy at a small work station overlooking the long curve of the ring. He was deeply immersed in whatever he was viewing on his screens and apparently oblivious to the breathtaking view of the planet through the transparent ceiling. She looked up at it for a while, feeling a little vertigo and a lot of awe. The station itself did not spin and the gray, cloud-swathed planet hovered motionless in the distance.
It was a while before he noticed her standing there. “Yes…” he squinted at her armband. His black hair was far longer than what was currently fashionable among Centauri and was caught up in a disorderly knot atop his head. “Officer Whiteside?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for Nathon Djari.”
“He’s off duty.”
“I know that. I thought perhaps he was working late.”
The botanist shook his head. “A man’s got to rest,” he said and, with another look at her, added, “or whatnot. More to life than work, you know.” He returned his attention to his screens.
“Do you know where he might be?” she said, amused.
“I think he said something about taking the shuttle down to the surface. Or maybe that was yesterday.”
“He was here yesterday.”
“Well, then it was today.”
“Did he say why?” Nova asked, puzzled.
“A man’s time is his own,” the Centauri said philosophically. “I don’t ask.”
“Of course. Thank you.” Nova left him to his work and returned to the station, pondering. Civilians were not often given the privilege of taking trips to the surface unless whatever shuttles traveled there had the room to spare. Why would Djari not have mentioned a trip to Bellac? They had spent so much time together these past few days, surely something like this would have come up.
She strolled to the pilots’ favored lounge and found Rolyn staring into his glass of ale. He had kept to himself these past few days, at a loss without Boker who had been his constant source of entertainment and vexation. They chatted quietly for a while, avoiding talk of the dead pilot in favor of less painful subjects. Eventually, she coaxed him into joining her for some dinner instead of another glass of the limpid, nearly flavorless beer and then turned him over to Nieri and two Caga squad pilots who preferred games of chance over alcohol.
Rolyn was an excellent pilot and she worried about him. Although Dakad had eased up on all of them since the explosion on the flight deck he would not put up with poor performance because of hangovers.
The day’s shuttle from Bellac was due to dock at the main gate and Nova took the lift there, eager for a few moments with Djari before needing to turn in. Some of their recent evenings together had stretched far into the night and the lack of sleep was beginning to affect her in the cockpit. Then again, she thought, he might have decided to spend the night on the surface and she’d be getting all the sleep she needed tonight.
The passenger bay was already bustling with arrivals when she stepped out of the lift. She scanned over guards on a shift rotation, a visiting Cas
pian family with a gaggle of children, grow ring workers, a few officers back from shore leave.
Then she saw Djari leap down the ramp to get ahead of a wheeled bin. He was casually dressed in a white shirt that contrasted nicely with his deeply tanned skin and her breath caught a little when he beamed a broad smile at one of the crew. He chatted briefly with the woman rolling the bin from the shuttle and then walked to the main corridor before Nova could call out to him.
She hurried after him, hoping to catch him before he got to the lifts. But he continued past them into the main concourse, perhaps on his way to find a late dinner. The Green House Eatery there was developing a terrific selection of Bellac delicacies far beyond the usual list of interspecies mainstays offered by the mess hall. She was about to call his name when he stopped abruptly. A uniformed guard strode toward him. Nova groaned when she recognized Captain Beryl.
She hung back, curious, while the two men spoke. Djari’s back was turned to her and she saw little of their exchange. The expression on Beryl’s face was as unpleasant as always. There came a moment when he raised his hand and Djari took a quick step back as if surprised by the gesture. A moment later Beryl looked over Djari’s shoulder to see her walking toward them. He sneered and left the corridor.
Djari turned. “Nova! How did you know I’d explode if I didn’t get to see you tonight?”
She stepped into his embrace and kissed him quickly. “I looked for you earlier. They told me you’d gone down.”
He nodded. “Yes, I got volunteered to pick up the swampers. Too fragile to ship up with the elevator. Very tasty, though. They’ll grow like mad up here.”
“You didn’t take your com unit?”
A trace of a frown appeared on his face. “We get the cheap toys. That unit is only good for up here. So I don’t bother.”
“Oh. Right.” She looked into the direction that Beryl had taken. The concourse was now deserted except for a few construction workers ambling to their dinners and showers. “What did Beryl want?”