by Greg Dragon
“Then one day Labi ended up dead, his throat cut inside his penthouse, and suddenly we had a new Alliance representative running the Basce City office. That was Garson Sunveil. We knew he wasn’t Alliance; he was the biggest gangster the tenements has seen, and we’ve have seen hundreds of these types. But he laid out a plan to us for more credits if we could do a bit of smuggling for a captain in the Alliance. I thought it was all above board, so I covered the legal end to allow the transfer within the city limits, collected the package and paid a runner to get it onto a shuttle going out to one of the stations.”
“Where one of the lizards posed as a Genesian would collect it and share it out to their fleet, who would use it to massacre numerous spacers, unaware that they’re jumping into a trap,” Raileo added. “That sound about right, Councilman? But you don’t care, do you? You get to buy station property and entertain beautiful Arisani women.” This rewarded a look from Minoru E’lune, which went from skepticism to amused acceptance, and culminated with her blushing from the compliment.
“We never considered that,” Vray admitted, sighing heavily as he found it increasingly hard to breathe.
“Verdict?” Quentin asked of Cilas.
“Lock him in stasis cuffs and get him onboard for transportation. We did our part, now the council will do theirs,” Cilas relented, earning several groans from Fio and Quentin. “He’ll get his time, and eventual punishment, but we don’t get to decide that, not when he’s cooperating. Come on, Nighthawks, let’s be done with it. Scrape this schtill off the floor and onto Ursula.”
“We got him,” Helga said to Fio, who stood staring at Vray with murderous intent. “His life is over. The council will pull everything out of this cruta, and he will never know freedom again. What do you say?”
“It’s not enough,” Fio Doro replied as she dabbed at a rebellious tear. “Djesu deserved better, but thank you. Thank you, Lady Hellgate, for everything.”
Epilogue
It was late, the station equivalent of an hour to midnight. Most of the population was in their bunks, racks, or hammocks sleeping, while the night owls ate, watched vids, or smoked spice to relax. Helga and Cilas were seated at a bar, Cecily’s Oasis, one of the only businesses still open at that time of night. She nursed a fruity Vestalian cocktail, and he was on his second shot of rum.
“I have something to ask you,” he said, sounding serious. This after hours of jokes and light banter. Helga had known he had something on his mind, but Cilas was a closed book who she still struggled to understand on her best days, so she expected he wanted to end things, or he was promoting her. One could never know.
“Ask away, Commander, I’m sure I can answer whatever you throw at me,” she said, steeling herself.
“When you asked about Vray owning property here, it wasn’t a hunch, was it? You knew, but you didn’t want me probing so you pretended it was merely a guess. But I know it in my heart, somehow, Hel, you knew where to find him. My question is how? Is Sundown leaking you information somehow, some sort of Casanian intuition, or am I going insane?”
Helga’s pulse picked up and she inhaled, letting the breath out steadily as she considered whether to lie to the closest thing she had to family. She thought about all they had been through, the way he remained so delicate and considerate of her. Even when she was being her bratty self, he would show that he was willing to be patient.
She hammered a fist into the table, cursed at her bad luck, then pulled her knees up into her chest and rested a cheek on them, looking away from him.
“It’s not only that, Hel, but I had a long conversation with Sundown before his reassignment. He seemed really concerned with your welfare, beyond the concern of a brother, if you know what I mean. At the time I was worried that you and he were, you know? But that didn’t make sense, so I thought about Jumpers and their obsession with Seekers.”
“You think I’m a Seeker?” Helga asked, turning to face him. The line had been crossed and there was no going back.
“Helga, I know you’re a Seeker,” Cilas surrendered. “I’ve known it in my heart since I found you in that isolated room back on Dyn. I thought to myself, why are they doing all this to her? Is it because she’s Casanian? Why do all this when every other species would have just been tossed out and killed? On the Sur, I asked the doctor about your condition, and he wouldn’t talk to me, citing patient, physician trust or some nonsense. Please tell me I’m not going crazy.”
Helga exhaled heavily and stared up at the overhead, wondering what was going to be sacrificed with their relationship once she admitted to being what he suspected. “When we were at Fio’s and I took a nap, I had a dream about a dropship landing on an unfamiliar station. Vray and his entourage emerged, and he was an ass like I assumed, but in the dream, Ina called me to confirm he was our target.”
“Wild,” Cilas whispered, inching in closer to her. “Ina was the lead in your dream? As in Ina being a Nighthawk?”
Helga nodded, “I confirmed blindly that it was Vray and then I was awake, looking up at Fio’s holo-gallery. The vision was still on my mind, so I took a shot in the dark and asked you whether or not it was possible for Vray to own property on a station. Far from prescience or local dimensional shifting.” She smiled. “Are you worried that I’m a Jumper-hopeful that you’ll lose off the team when Sunny finally recruits me?”
“Don’t even joke about that, Helga. It’s crossed my mind as well. It’s a Commander’s nightmare to lose good team members to the Jumper agency. I know it’s part of the deal, and we’re not to stand in the way if it happens, but it isn’t ideal, and especially not you, not when I—well, I cannot imagine the team without you, Helga. Just the thought of it leaves a vacuum in my mind. But I’m beginning to realize that you may really be too important to be a Nighthawk. You’re one of the chosen few and we’ve thrown you into the fire so many times, and for what? ESO missions? You should be in Sanctuary helping to steer the war instead. You have the sight, and we have you on a team getting shot and blown up.”
“And that is why I’ve never told you.” Helga sighed, still reeling from him saying he loved her in the most roundabout Cilas way possible.
“You don’t want that, and so you kept it to yourself,” Cilas tried. “Just like being with me you worried for the preferential treatment. You again being an outcast with attention being brought to your unique gift instead of your actual accomplishments.”
“I love to fly, Cilas,” Helga explained. “I would rather be shot, blown up, or torn to shreds fighting for the same thing my father and all his ancestors have done since the lizards stole our planet. Being a Seeker means I get dreams, so what? I have faster reactions, yes, and it does give me a bit of an edge, but do I not train twice as hard as any spacer on here and Rendron? Do I not spend countless hours honing my craft to help our success?”
“And you shouldn’t have to qualify that, ever.” Cilas raised a hand to cut her off before she became even angrier. “You’re a Nighthawk because you’re talented, intelligent, and a BLAST graduate. No one can ever rob you of that. You’re my first mate not because we’re thyping, but because you’ve proven yourself to me, and two other very, very talented and intelligent operators. Again, that’s you, you did that, and me finding this out doesn’t change any of your accomplishments. If anything, it lets me know that I’ve been holding you back somewhat.”
“So now that you know, what will you do with me?” Helga asked, her hard eyes still staring into his.
“To be honest, Hel. Nothing. This is your private reality and while I am expected to report it to the captain, we both know what comes with that, and the last thing I want to do is bring you misery after everything we’ve shared. You make me fear the lizards more now though, that I can say. I fear them capturing you and completing whatever they attempted back at Dyn. I know we’ve promised each other before, but now it feels different. More dire, perhaps?”
“You mean us promising to kill each o
ther rather than be taken in by them again?”
When Cilas nodded, Helga grinned, remembering the Louine ship that rescued them, and the two of them barely conscious, in pain, and making death promises. “I meant it, though. All I have special about me is that my dreams tend to skew real, at times showing me glimpses of someone else’s life or future. Sunny and I aren’t together romantically; he was using his Jumper training to show me how to unlock my gifts.”
“What other visions have you had?” he asked, hopping off his stool to stand even closer. He threw his arm around her shoulders, which she accepted readily, leaning her head against his chest and closing her eyes.
“My accident, losing the Classic. I didn’t envision it exactly, but I did dream of losing oxygen and dying alone without any warning, just the reality of being helpless without any communication. I’ve dreamed of my parents, back when they were younger and trying to have babies,” she recalled, smiling. “I’ve been on Casan, fighting wars against the lizards, which felt real enough, but I’m hoping that really isn’t something somewhere ahead of me.”
“And Sunny helps you do this?” he asked, confused as to how dreams could be taught to someone.
“Jumpers are trained to look for Seekers. Their charge is to protect us with the greater goal being the destruction of the Geralos since they pose the biggest threat to our survival. He knew what I was from the moment he saw me fight,” Helga reminisced, smiling when she remembered him calling her out. “Kept my secret easily, but wanted to train me regardless. I don’t even think the agency knows, or else they would have already exposed me to the Alliance.”
“You do things in space and air that I didn’t think were even possible, Hel, even I knew something was up,” Cilas whispered. “Sundown’s quite the character, no short of surprises with that man, and now I learn he’s something of a mentor to one of my Nighthawks. Will you be using las-swords any time soon? Please say yes.”
Helga laughed. “I’m good, but not even I have the skills they require to be a Jumper. You’ve fought alongside them. Sunny is impressive, but Lamia was a wizard of some sort with his movements, and I’m sure there are others who make even those two bad asses look like rooks. No sir, I am merely a dreamer with some reflexes I guess as a bonus, but I’m no Sunny or Lamia.”
“Funny how under the wisecracking hot shot pilot is a humble monk downplaying her abilities,” Cilas joked. “Just remember us little people when you’re an important member of the Alliance council representing either Casan or Vestalia. Helga Ate, ESO, Ace Pilot, Jumper-trained Seeker, Heroine.” Cilas mimed the rectangular outline of a marquee as he threw out her titles in this imagined future where the galaxy would honor her service.
“Oh, get off it, you’re famous right now, and you’re no Seeker. Anyone gets to be on the council, it would be Rendron’s future captain, not the hot-headed, half-alien lieutenant that follows him everywhere. My place, until I’m no longer able, is at the tip of the spear, helping to drive the lizards back to Geral where they belong,” Helga said before reaching for her glass and knocking back the last of its fruity lukewarm remnants.
“Guess they will need to look elsewhere for new council members.” Cilas shrugged dismissively, causing Helga to smirk at the change that had become evident in her commander.
“Is it enough to be fighting for a better future though, Cilas? Men like you, you may be humble, but I know you’re ambitious and well on the way to being on the bridge of a capital ship. We don’t get to have normal lives like our ancestors. Up here we’re owned, first by the Alliance, and then what we’ve been told we owe our species. All we as Vestalians have is service, and individual needs never factor into that.”
“So, what are you saying?” Cilas sat up to face her, his fingers still interlocked with hers.
“I’m saying that we shouldn’t label or limit our time together, or weigh its importance against my role as a Seeker. We go into every mission knowing it could be our last, or we will lose someone we love and care for violently. How is this any different, except I’ve shared my deepest secret with the man I thype on occasion, who I also am made to salute?”
Cilas actually laughed at that, a loud laugh of relief, and she could see him deflating from his earlier worries. “You got it, Ate. This stays between us until you say differently. We will carry on the mission,” he swore. “It’s the Nighthawk way.”
“It’s the Nighthawk way,” she repeated, and they shared a long stretch of silence, nothing uncomfortable, but something deeper, an unspoken bond between lovers that no words or glyphs in the galaxy could convey.
About The Author
GREG DRAGON brings a fresh perspective to fiction by telling human stories of life, love and relationships in a science fiction setting. This unconventional author spins his celestial scenes from an imagination nurtured from being an avid reader himself. His exposure to multiple cultures, multiple religions, martial arts, and travel lends a unique dynamic to his stories.
See Greg’s author page at gregdragon.com or keep up with his latest books and appearances through email.