by JC Hay
He could hear the anger in her voice, driving out the concern and patience that she’d been trying to maintain. “I need you to be safe. You can’t trust people. You know that.” It sounded ugly, but he was the perfect example. Everyone had an ulterior motive.
“No shit, I know that. I’m looking out for myself, Javad. I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say you were...” Except he had, or at least he’d implied it. Breaking the cardinal rule of orbital-delayed conversations, he let the air hang silent for a moment, then admitted, “I got a threatening text. Probably just someone trying to get into my head. Even so, I wanted to check on you.”
Her response started, then stopped, before restarting. “It sounds like you’re the one who needs to look at his friends, not me. I’m serious, big brother. I’m okay. Do you need to talk to someone about these messages?”
Once again, he regretted the shortcut attitude he’d had when he was younger. The idea that there had to be a fast track to the recognition he’d felt was his due. It made him easy prey for the people who were threatening him now. People like Liam Ratliff. The implicit and explicit threats, that they could get close to his parents—or Andile—combined with his fear of who to trust and left him feeling impotent and terrified.
Worse, knowing that Chen could suffer as a result of his vanity made him ashamed. He had a plan, lousy as it was, and it would have to work.
Javad took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m taking care of it.”
“Then you stay safe too. If I have to, so do you.” Her voice softened. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Andy.” He ended the call before she could scream at him about the nickname she hated. Talking to her hadn’t been the balm he’d hoped, but at least he knew his sister was okay for now. He wasn’t sure how he’d keep her that way, but he’d figure it out. Warning Chen was first. He’d have the long flight from Farhope to Khonsu to plan step two.
Javad pushed his glasses up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then checked his luggage against the list in his head. He’d prepped as well as he could. It was time to move.
Five
Chen carefully arranged her armload of wood into the crate next to the stove. Of all the things in the cabin, the stove had to be her favorite. Ancient, heavy, and solid iron, it could turn a half-dozen logs into enough heat to keep the entire place warm for days. Dust and pine resin invaded her nostrils, bringing a flood of memories. Her grandfather had loved this cabin, and she’d learned how to live in the wild at his knee before sleeping next to the big, warm stove.
They weren’t always happy memories, but they were hers.
The remoteness was part of the appeal, in her grandfather’s opinion. In hers too, if she was honest. She loved the closeness that she had with the team, but everyone needed a place they could recover. Even her. Elena had hated the primitiveness of it all, but she’d appreciated the lack of technologies to distract Chen from paying attention to her.
Still there were limits to how remote she could be—the TJF still required that she maintain a military-grade booster on her omnidevice. It was the only way she could get a signal this far removed from Skyreach or any of Farhope’s other major cities.
Behind her, Nujalik grumbled loudly at Chen’s woolgathering, pacing to the other end of the couch and flopping over without breaking the stream of vocalizations. Chen glanced at the wolf over her shoulder. “Those aren’t even real wolf noises, you know. You sound like a cat.”
Nujalik glared at her, and she could feel her wolf’s disdain.
She wiped her hands on her trousers, breath leaving a misty cloud in the air, before building a fire in the stove’s belly. “I promise, it won’t be that bad. I’ll get the last of her stuff cleaned up, and then it’ll be just you, me, and the woods. You like running around out here, remember?” Most of the time, anyway. Then again, it wasn’t usually this cold up here. “You’ll get a little PT, your leg will get straightened out, and we’ll be back to the squad in no time. May swore to me they aren’t going to have any fun without us.”
She didn’t believe that last bit any more than Nujalik did. The fireteam encapsulated all the family she had left, and a better one than her birth family had ever been. Protecting them—from Triptych, from pirates, or from each other—was second nature for her. The pack was eternal, but not having them around ached like a missing tooth. She needed them as much as they needed her.
She needed them to need her.
That thought verged on self-pity, and Chen distracted herself by lighting a fire in the stove. Her pride buoyed when she only needed to spark her starter once to start the carefully assembled wood. She’d been careful to keep the fire little. The stove was more than capable of warming the small cabin with a minimal fuel, and too big of a fire turned the place into a sauna.
She smiled wanly and snorted. Elena had overfed the stove at one point, and they’d had to keep the doors open for hours to bring the temperature back down below sweltering. Not that the ensuing sweaty nakedness had been particularly unpleasant, but...
The unwelcome memory focused her attention on the echoes of her former lover that hung about the cabin like timeworn cobwebs; reminders of Elena were tucked away in the eaves and the corners of the shelves to be stumbled over when least expected, and loaded with ghosts ready to inject a painful cocktail of memories.
Chen closed the stove’s grate and adjusted the flue. Nujalik’s sympathy and concern settled around her shoulders like a warm blanket, and she crossed the small room to press her face between the wolf’s tufted ears. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning to mope about any more than I’m planning to let you rest. This trip is about healing. For both of us.”
She inhaled, relishing the soft, musky smell of her wolf’s fur, then forced herself to stand up. Physical reminders had to go first. Chen grabbed an empty wooden box out of the pantry and walked through the cabin, collecting Elena’s things. A toothbrush and toothpaste that waited in the bathroom. A collection of gels and lotions in the shower. A pair of earbuds resting in their case in the bedside drawer. A faded scrunchie under the bed. A single sock in the mudroom. The discarded cover to Elena’s old omnidevice.
The crate had been too large by half. Collected together, the detritus of their shared life looked pathetic and small, rattling about in too much space like a child wearing an adult’s clothing. The nearness of them robbed them of power, turned them into the junk they were rather than the harbingers of old memories and lost time. It should have hurt more to see their relationship reduced to nothing, but instead it felt freeing. For the first time in months the muscles in her neck didn’t feel clenched and painful. She was half-tempted to throw the stuff out completely, but that would have been petty. Junk or not, the things were technically Elena’s. Returning them was the right thing to do.
Later.
Perhaps May would help. They had explosives disposal training after all. Who better to defuse a volatile bomb?
Chen shoved the crate into the back of the pantry, where she could deal with it when the time came. Or possibly forget about it altogether. That got all the physical reminders out of the way. She had no doubt there’d still be ghosts of memory hiding, waiting for their moment to pounce, but for now she’d inoculated the place as best she could.
It would take filling the cabin with better, happier memories to banish the ghosts once and for all, and that just needed time.
Her omni trilled with the insistent ring of an incoming call. Her heart thudded into her throat. Only the Hunting Cry could reach her device at the cabin, and only while on this side of the moon. If they were calling...
She tapped on the speaker and immediately got the three-note tone that indicated a secure transmission from the constellation. Chen held her breath and waited. With the Cry in orbit around Adiona, any live communication would have a substantial delay. After thirty seconds, Commander Penzak’s voice filled the small room.
“Specialist, I have a report here that says you ignore
d communication with medical services about the health of your wolf.” The commander’s growl of displeasure was the closest she’d heard to an emotion in the Ghost’s voice since she’d joined the Rangers.
She frowned. Of course Priddy would rat her out. Attractive smile or not, that’s who he was—he poked his nose and his instruments where they didn’t belong. He looked for weakness and wasn’t satisfied until he found or created one. She swallowed against the sting of being called on the carpet by her CO. “I’m following the suggestions that were given, sir.”
She walked to the pantry and confirmed her food supply again, busywork to fill time and distract her from the dead air. Her message would take just as long as his had, doubled for his response to return, plus however long he needed to compose his message.
His answer came ninety seconds later. “Part of that recommendation was to present your wolf for a physical assessment of her ability in full gravity.” There was a pause, and she could visualize him stabbing his fingers into his hair in annoyance. “Things are getting too hot for me to sideline one of my best support soldiers because she’s too stubborn to take care of her wolf. Your fireteam needs both of you in top condition. This means you will work with Dr. Priddy to assess your wolf’s progress, and then execute his advised exercise program to build up your wolf’s strength. In case you and I aren’t clear, this is not me asking. Is that understood, Specialist?”
“Sir, yes sir.” The response came automatically, pushing past the sour bile at the back of her throat. Getting in trouble was Grenville’s job. Occasionally Inouye’s. She was the good ranger. The example the others were told to be more like. “To be fair, sir, he’s just a civilian. He doesn’t understand the amount of strain that wolves can take. Hell, he barely understands the nature of the wolfbond. If something was wrong, Nujalik would tell me.”
“He’s a top-notch veterinarian, with enough honors attached to his diploma that the admiral’s chest looks bare in comparison. Further, he has saved your wolf’s leg once already. I trust him to know what’s what. So will you. You have your orders, and I have your agreement. Penzak out.” The line went dead with a crackle followed by the two-tone beep of the encryption terminating.
Chen stared at her omnidevice with a scowl. “That could have gone better.”
Nujalik flattened her ears and huffed, and Chen could practically hear the wolf’s What did you expect? response.
She flopped onto the couch next to her wolf and watched the flames dance behind the grate. Her fingers burrowed into the wolf’s dense fur, black under the cabin’s carefully installed polarized lights. It was another concession to modernity, and like so many decisions, it had been on Elena’s behalf. The woman had been incapable of seeing Nujalik without the extra lights, and the third time she’d tripped over the wolf, Chen offered to get the same lights as the rangers used on the Hunting Cry to keep their wolves visible to the other shipboard personnel.
It wouldn’t help in the dark, but it was a suitable compromise, and one that protected Nujalik. That made it an easy choice.
Her hands stroked her wolf’s shoulders, massaging carefully. In response, Nujalik stretched and pushed back against her, eyes closing as she basked in the attention.
The relative quiet was interrupted by a knock at the door.
Instantly, Nujalik was on alert; she dropped to the floor and moved to one side of the door. As Chen rose, she tapped the icon on her omnidevice that turned off the polarized lights. Her wolf returned to its natural state, a blurry mirror of its surroundings. The wolfbond connecting them allowed Chen to know where her animal was regardless, and she made two quick hand signals instructing Nujalik to watch and stay hidden. If the visitor was a threat, the wolf would know what to do, but no sense in tipping them off to the wolf’s presence unnecessarily.
Chen put on her most disarming smile and opened the door. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting visitors this time of y—you.” Her words went to ice as she recognized the person on the other side.
Dr. Javad Priddy brushed a lock of wavy black hair out of his face and smiled like she’d offered a perfectly pleasant greeting. “Me. You know, it’s lucky for you the TJF won’t let me charge mileage for my house calls.”
JAVAD STOMPED THE LIGHT dusting of snow off his trainers before he stepped into the cabin. Despite his attempt to bring a little levity, Chen was clearly furious to see him. No matter. He just had to let her know that her hiding place, cabin, murder-shack, whatever it was had been compromised. Then he could get to the spaceport and grab the first flight to Khonsu before the people who wanted her wolf could come after his family. She was a ranger, surely she could keep herself safe or arrange an extraction.
The cabin interior was as rustic and unpolished as it appeared from the outside, with printed wood slats covering the walls interspersed with what looked like actual wood from the forests surrounding them. Other than a few woven blankets hung on the walls to provide color and insulation, the decoration was austere. Somehow, though, it all seemed to work together to create a cozy, homey feeling that he wouldn’t have expected from the reserved ranger.
He rubbed his hands together briskly. “You could have picked someplace colder, you know. I’m reasonably certain there are asteroids in the belt that don’t get any light whatsoever.”
“Then I’d have light-affective depression to deal with, and where’s the fun in that?” She stepped back from the door to let him in, apparently resigned to his presence.
“Did you just make a joke?” He pried his shoes off and placed them in the melt tray next to a heavy pair of boots. The dichotomy of his footwear choices versus hers highlighted her comfort in the remote wilderness.
“Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.” Her deadpan delivery made him wonder if that too was supposed to be funny, but it seemed wiser not to ask. “Besides,” she continued, “there wouldn’t be any snow, and then you’d have nothing to complain about.”
“I could find something, I’m certain.” He smiled and resettled his glasses. He wasn’t positive, but he thought he saw the distortion of her wolf hiding under the table. “I know you didn’t bother to read the suggestions I sent you, but there’s a distinct chance that the cold could mask some of the pain Nujalik’s experiencing.”
“No one comes up here in the off-season, so it gives her plenty of room to run about and fewer people to interfere.” She narrowed her eyes at him from her spot near the kitchen. “At least usually.”
The cold from the stone floor started to seep through his socks, and Javad risked a glance at Chen’s feet. They were wisely wrapped in heavy wool socks and a pair of warm-looking slippers. He took a few more steps into the cabin, until he had his feet on the thin rug that indicated the main living area.
She caught his gaze and smirked before crossing the room to sit on the low couch in front of him. “How did you even know where to look for me?”
In the dining room near where she’d been, the murky blur of her wolf shifted slightly. It was definitely Nujalik, trying to decide what to do next.
Javad decided to play coy and not call attention to the umbra wolf, instead warming his hands over an honest-to-God wood-burning stove. He hadn’t even been aware those were a real thing anymore. “You mean when you didn’t return my message? Or do you mean when you didn’t advise your doctor where you were taking a patient who was supposed to be under observation?” He gave her a quick grin. “I have my means.”
Chen scoffed. “Meaning that chatterbox Akomi told you.” She shook her head. “I knew I should have requested a different pilot.”
Javad looked for somewhere to sit, but the couch was the only real space in the living room, and it felt presumptuous to sit next to her uninvited. The floor was right out; even the rug wasn’t doing much to mitigate the cold radiating up from the stone. He went down to one knee, which put him eye level with Nujalik’s night-sky gaze from under the table. “Hey there, girl. How’s your leg feeling?”
The blur scintillate
d some as her tail swept back and forth at the attention, and she eased out from the table in a low belly crawl but stopped a half meter out of his reach. She leaned in, and he could hear her sniffing the air between them.
Chen stood abruptly and walked into the small kitchen to fill a kettle with water. “I’m making tea. If you knew where to come find me, you hardly dressed for it.”
“Let’s say my unnamed informant left out the part about how rural this place was.” Which was an understatement. He’d assumed she’d be closer to the sun-swept plains rather than up in the mountains. He’d dressed in long pants and sleeves for comfort, but the cloth was thin in the biting wind outside. His hover had been heated, which had been a grace on the drive up.
Nujalik clearly debated whether to approach closer. He imagined the wolf was likely confused to see and smell him someplace other than the medical suite on the Hunting Cry. After digging into his pocket, he pulled out a soft, beef-flavored chew. “Can I bribe you with food?”
“Well, you’ve found her weakness,” Chen muttered from the kitchen. “She won’t leave you alone.”
Indeed, as predicted, the umbra wolf came forward to take the treat, making a grumbly, yowling noise as she mouthed the chew into pieces. The blur bumped and rubbed against him, throwing him off-balance until he was better able to brace himself. He combed his fingers into the wolf’s exposed belly fur. “What’s all the noise about? I thought you liked it.”
Chen huffed again. “Oh, trust me, that’s the happy sound. She’s a smorgasbord of odd noises.”
He continued to scratch and pet while Nujalik squirmed playfully, and the bubbly sense of joy in the contact danced through his veins. “Well, I think they’re adorable.”
The kettle whistled, and Chen pulled it off the heat. “They’re a lot less cute when you’re trying to sleep. Sugar?”
“I hadn’t realized we were already at the ‘cute pet names’ stage of our relationship.” He grinned as Chen sputtered. Teasing her was as easy as it was rewarding. “But seriously, milk’s great if you have it. Otherwise I’m fine with black.”