by JC Hay
Ren had been through enough of these conversations that he knew what was coming next, as though it had been written in three-meter-high flames. “But you're wondering when we'll be on our way again." While their discipline was high, TJF in general, and rangers in particular, had a lot of privileges because of their status. Like sleeping in the UOQ instead of the barracks. It was the sort of thing that grated on regular troops enough to cause unrest.
"That obvious, eh?" Snyder gave a sheepish shrug.
"Rest easy, Captain. We're off-world at first window tomorrow. We can lay low until then." Ren noticed Inari had moved to pace along the edge of the court with obvious irritation. He and his wolf were going to need a long sit-down conversation once they got back to the Hunting Cry.
The officer sighed. "Excellent. I mean, it's not that we're in a hurry to... It's..."
"No need to explain. We understand."
"Oh, good." The man's relief was obvious, and it rankled Ren. "I took the liberty of having a bottle of our local whiskey delivered to your UOQ. I think you'll be impressed."
"Meaning you'd rather we stayed in this evening." Also disturbingly common—not the least because some tough, or more often group of toughs, got enough liquor in them to override survival instincts and think they could jump a TJF Ranger.
"I'm so pleased we understand each other.” He nodded too quickly and cast another watchful eye toward the wolves. "Well, I'm sure you'll want to head back and shower. Don't let me keep you." They exchanged a quick salute, and the captain was gone before Ren could mount an argument.
THIS WASN'T WORKING. Ren looked over at the couch, where Grenville's lanky frame sprawled across most of the available cushions. While she'd been happy to give him the cold shoulder, Inari curled up next to his partner's wolf to create a large distortion in the patterned tile of the room. That left him standing at the table, not sure whether he should pour another three fingers from the bottle in his glass.
And then wondering if he looked as pathetic as he sounded in his head.
"Are you going to stare at that booze, or actually drink it?" Grenville's voice gave no indication that the two of them had already burned through half the bottle. The man's tolerance levels had won them more than one bet against a squad of dirtsiders. He rattled his cup in the air in front of him. "Because if you're not going to pour for you, my glass is empty."
Ren coughed out a quick laugh, then stepped over to splash a generous portion of the red-amber liquid into his friend’s cup. After a pause he doled out some for himself as well. As the captain had indicated, it was surprisingly high quality. Smoky, but deceptively smooth, and warming enough to cut through the incessant chill of nighttime on Tyson, with faint floral notes that reminded him of the purple-flowered meadows near his childhood home. He'd never cared much for the local liquors, but perhaps he'd never had any of quality.
"Look," Grenville pushed. "You've got two choices. Either suck it up, accept that it's over, and live with the choice. Or admit you've screwed up, and head over to her quarters and beg her to take you back. Seems pretty straightforward."
"And you're the expert? I don't recall you rushing about in a hurry to be serious about your relationships." In truth, none of his team were. Despite the relative peace, the rangers lived dangerous lives. Family weren't allowed on the Hunting Cry, unlike some TJF vessels, and nobody wanted to think about leaving a grieving widow behind. “Or do you need me to send a message to that hotshot pilot you’re always flirting with?”
"One, fuck you. It’s not flirting, just talking. She saved my life, mate." Grenville glowered over the rim of his cup. "Two, no one's the expert about relationships when wolves are involved. But if you’re right, and she’s able to sense Inari’s feelings?”
“I saw it,” he snapped. “Hell, she confirmed it.”
Grenville took a long drink. “I can honestly count on one hand the number of times I've heard of it happening." He held up his right hand, the ring and pinky fingers missing from the first knuckle up. He never talked about the accident that had taken the two fingers, or why he didn't replace them, and Ren had never been the sort to ask. "Then again, Inari chose you, so I can see why you'd question her judgment." Inari lifted her head and growled from where she'd been napping in the corner, and Grenville spread his arms wide. "Sorry, 'Ri. You know I love you, but you gotta admit. Your boy's a mess."
The wolf gave an annoyed whuff and laid her head back down across Djehuti's neck.
Ren shook his head. "Thanks for the defense. Partner." He layered as much annoyance into the word as his wolf had into her impatient huff, then turned on Grenville. "It’s a bad idea.”
“Did you at least tell her what it means?” Grenville shook his head, as though he already knew the answer. “Of course you didn’t. Never mind. Forgot who I was asking.”
“What person in their right mind wants a partner who's away all the time?"
His battle buddy sat up straight on the couch, pointing a finger at him without sloshing the drink in his hand. "First, you’d see her plenty. You get leave once a quarter, even though you don't usually take it. Second, I'm not telling you to marry her. I'm just saying you shouldn't spit in whatever the fates have set up. Despite evidence to the contrary, your wolf could be onto something. And third, I would think that's for her to decide. Not you. And she needs to be fully informed before she can make a decision."
It wasn't that easy. It couldn't be. But agreeing would at least shut Grenville up on the subject so they could get on with drinking in earnest. Ren took a slow sip. "Fine. You guys win. I'll head over there in the morning and see if she'll consider it." And then, when she said no, he'd have had another few seconds with Lucia to remember her by. That'd be plenty.
It had to be.
Eleven
Ren ran a hand over his face and then over his scalp for good measure. The bright glow of lights as he walked down the hall threatened to stab through the back of his head, and the clench in his gut would have brought his breakfast to the fore if he'd bothered to eat anything. At least he couldn't blame that last bit on Grenville and the damn booze. He'd have been nauseous even if he'd been sober. The idea of seeing Lucia, of telling her the rumors about what her bonding with Inari might mean, made him want to crawl back into his bed and hide. Much as he hated to admit it, though, Grenville was right. Lucia deserved to make an informed choice, and that meant telling her everything.
Inari's smug buzz rattling across the edges of his hangover like a ripsaw didn't help his mood either, now that he thought about it.
He looked at the wolf as she walked alongside. "Just stop. I know I should have brought something else." He sipped from the coffee in his right hand, hoping the peace offering would be enough to get him in the door. "She likes coffee." At least the mugs that stocked the UOQs kitchens were decent-sized. He'd stayed at a base on Khonsu where the cups barely held two sips. It had been infuriating, and he'd taken to drinking directly from the pot instead.
He rounded the corner to where he remembered the base had put her up, but the door to her quarters was propped open. A utility cart stood outside, stocked with cleaning supplies. Ren set the coffee mugs on the cart and stepped into the room. In the back bedroom, he found a slick-sleeve recruit packing Lucia's clothes into a ditty bag. As soon as the recruit noticed Ren, the woman straightened and fired off a sharp salute.
Ren rolled his eyes. "Don't salute me. I work for a living. What's going on?"
The recruit exhaled and dropped her arm, then she seemed to notice Inari for the first time. "Is that an actual umbra wolf? I've never seen one before."
"That's kind of the point, isn't it?" Ren resisted the urge to smile; he could feel 'Ri warming to the recruit, but he needed to talk to Lucia. "Where's the occupant of these quarters?"
"Oh," the recruit said, and for a moment Ren thought she hadn't heard the question. "Oh! Mx. Sarmiento left very early this morning."
"Without her clothes."
"Well, without all of
them. She only took an overnight bag. She's headed back out to talk to them, you know? The insurgents? I can't believe she'd go back after they shot her down the first time. I'm supposed to mail this stuff off to her family."
No secrets in the military, of course. "The existence and identity of any aggressor has not been determined." Ren narrowed his eyes as he growled, and the recruit took a step back. "Anyone with her?”
"Captain Snyder is providing her escort." The recruit beamed. "Those rebels won't try anything with him around."
"If she only took an overnight bag, why are you packing her stuff?" She'd already left. He was grasping at straws, but maybe the recruit would know something. "She'll be back here tomorrow, right?"
For a recruit, her DILLIGAF look had the weight of a seasoned pro.
Ren nodded. "Got it. Thanks, Private..."
"Hoskie, sir."
Ren rolled his eyes and turned to leave. "It's lance corporal. Not sir. C'mon, 'Ri." His wolf's concern had him ready to start pacing the room and knocking things over, and that wouldn't do Pvt. Hoskie any favors. He'd missed his chance, and she'd gone. The unfairness of it crushed his chest, but he felt the moment Inari changed from concern to distress. He glanced at his wolf, and in a flash, she had charged out the door and back toward their quarters.
INARI BEAT HIM DOWN the hall, the scrape of her claws impatient as she tried to dig their door open. Fortunately, the base expected the UOQs to get rough use, so there wasn't any damage to the finish. Ren unlocked the door and pushed it open so his wolf could bolt inside. She charged into the bedroom and shook open his ditty bag, prompting him to snap, "What the hell's gotten into you?"
Anxiety, frustration, and low, simmering anger pawed through his consciousness. At least he could understand the latter of those. For not the first time, he wished the connection between bondmates was more than empathic. The telepathy that the rangers and their wolves were rumored to have would have been damn handy about now.
His wolf ran to the living area, and Ren knelt to start cleaning up the mess she'd made. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her jump into a chair and put her paws in the middle of the dinner table. Before he could push past his shock to yell at her, she'd already clambered back down, a prize held tightly in her mouth.
That sealed it. He pushed himself back to standing. "You know better than that, 'Ri. What do you think you're doing?" He could hear the crack of command in his voice, and the bond between them vibrated with his wolf's surprise and shock. She crouched low, tail tight against her side as she slinked forward to place her parcel at his feet. Ren recognized it as the card Snyder had sent along with the bottle of whiskey. A few handwritten lines. Nothing more. He was going to throw it away but hadn't felt bothered to even make that much effort. He bent down to grab it, and Inari scurried behind him to grab a pair of ODUs and drag them around in front of him. With her nose and one paw, she dug at the thigh pocket on the trousers, her desperation and frustration beating in his blood like it was his own.
"Okay, okay. What's in the pocket then? Did I leave some ration bar in there for you?" He chuckled at the brief pulse of annoyance from his wolf but slid his hand into the pocket. He pulled out a scrap of green fabric, and Inari launched herself up to grab it out of his hand. Even after their years together, he had a moment of shock, worried that her teeth might not stop at the fabric. He'd never seen her so distraught.
She dropped the piece of fabric on the floor next to the card from Snyder. With deliberate patience she sniffed first one, then the other, then sat and offered a single yip.
Ren finally remembered where he'd seen the scrap of fabric—it had been caught on a bit of debris at the wreck. He must have tucked it into his pocket without thinking about it and forgotten it was in there.
Apparently he wasn't coming to the right conclusion quickly enough. Scorn and exasperation rolled through him in a wave as Inari very slowly and dramatically sniffed at the card, and then the scrap of cloth. She looked up at him, then lay down and uttered a single bark.
But that meant Snyder had been at the crash site without coming to find them. Had been the one meeting with the mercenary who had attacked them in the cave. Ren braced his hand on the wall as it felt like gravity had suddenly flipped and his stomach was trying to catch up. He grabbed his omni off the nightstand and called over to CentOp.
A crisp male voice answered the call. "Cent—"
"This is Lance Corporal Ren Inouye of the TJF Rangers." He gave up the override authorized by the joint forces to confirm identity with ground troops. "I have a potential emergency situation—I need the coordinates of Captain Snyder, immediately." Hopefully they didn't have too many Snyders in the officer corps.
There was a brief pause, and then, "Your code checks out. I'm sorry, Lance Corporal, but it appears Captain Snyder has turned off his transmitter."
He swallowed. "Thank you. I need a trans-orbital comm link. Let me know as soon as you can set one up."
"O...of course, Lance Corporal. I'll call you at this number. Which vessel are we calling."
"Hail the JFC Hunting Cry. And don't bother calling me, I'll be there soon." He just needed to grab Grenville and Djehuti along the way.
And hope he wasn't too late.
Twelve
Lucia glanced up as Snyder turned off the flitter's transponder. At first, she wasn't sure she'd seen it correctly. After all, the locator helped with emergency services and rescue efforts. Hell, without it Ren might never have found her. He wouldn't have had the first clue where to look.
That opened another hole in her chest, first from the empty space where she'd felt Inari previously, and then more heavily, her disappointment that Ren had turned her away. Snyder banked the flitter and brought it in closer to the ground. She checked her omni to confirm that only five hours had passed since they'd left. At least in a few more hours they'd reach the refugee encampment, and she could busy herself with having a purpose again. With enough time, enough people helped, she might even be able to forget the too-brief time she and Ren had together. Absently, she reached out and flipped the locator back on.
Next to her, Snyder let out a sigh. "I'd hoped you hadn't noticed that." He turned the locator back off and brought the flitter down to land.
"What are you doing? We've got hours of travel yet." She fumbled with her safety harness, panic scrabbling up her spine until she got it opened and was able to launch herself out of the chair. Pain twinged in her ankle, and she leaned against the wall as she backed out of the cockpit.
"Unfortunately, this is the end of the road. The insurgents—"
"Refugees," she said reflexively.
"Set up a jamming device that scrambled navigation,” he continued. “We ended up off course and flew directly into an ambush. I was wounded but fought bravely. You, on the other hand, were killed. Don't worry though, now that I know where their camp is, we'll avenge you. In a way, your death will bring an end to the whole conflict."
She limped to the back of the flitter and shoved open the safety door in the side of the plane. It opened a set of short steps that she took to the ground just as a pair of mercenaries walked out of the nearby cover. One dragged a pallet that held bodies. Even from here, she couldn't miss the blue and white vests that had become the de facto uniform of the resistance. Part of her wondered if they were actual resistance fighters, or merely random corpses that Snyder and his men had managed to dress in their clothes.
"Oh good, you're here." Snyder appeared in the door behind her. "I think we should set them up so it looks like they charged the flitter. A heroic last stand as I held them off long enough to get back aboard."
The two men nodded and got to work pulling the bodies into position, and she heard the click and hum of a plasmacaster's safety being turned off. She put her hands on top of her head and laced her fingers before speaking. "So, have you figured out where I'll be too?"
"Of course," he replied. "You convinced me to open the door, then jumped down to negotiate with
the rebels. Unfortunately, they murdered you right there before I could stop them." He gestured past her shoulder with one hand.
She wouldn’t get a better opening. Adrenaline surged in Lucia’s blood, dulling the pain in her ankle as she planted her feet, grabbed his arm, and pulled. With Snyder still on the stairs she had the leverage she needed to throw him off balance and into the dirt at her feet. Before he could recover, she took off for the edge of the clearing in a ragged limp, hoping someone would be able to hear her screams.
A plasma bolt slammed into one of the trees in front of her, spraying Lucia with superheated splinters of bark and wood. She screamed and dove to the ground on reflex then scrambled toward the promise of cover while staying as low as possible. Behind her, she could hear Snyder shouting for the mercenaries to go after her, that their plans were ruined if she escaped.
As though she had anywhere to go. She had no food, no weapons, and an injured ankle. The only reason she'd survived the first attempt had been because Ren had found her.
A sense of righteous anger infused her, shoving away her fear and self-pity. She could damn well take these assholes down with her, though, and if she was going to go out, it would sure as hell be with guns blazing. Even if she didn't have guns.
She crouched behind a tree and risked a peek out to see what was happening, and another bolt cracked against the bark near her head. Her eyes watered, blurring the landscape between her and the advancing troops.
No. She recognized that blur.
One of the two men shouted as Inari leapt from the long grass to slam into him. She carried enough mass and speed that he went to the ground before he could open fire. Two other wolves—Djehuti, maybe, and some other wolf she didn't know—hit the second man, one locking down on his forearm as the other cut his legs out from under him. Movement to the right made her start, and she spotted a ranger, stocky and broad-shouldered, who used her hand and made a shh motion to indicate that Lucia should stay silent.