The Tri'kep shuddered in the winds of the storm. Already another of her masts was cracking despite the sails being secured. Tralmiltaram kept himself busy directing the crew on the deck to reinforcing the mast while keeping a nervous eye on the bow and the mountain growing in size there.
Robert did not see the mountain. His eyes were closed and his focus entirely on the power within him, sustaining both the energy necessary to save the Tri'kep and the control on said energy. That was all that mattered - the storm that still raged could no longer register.
"Spirits of wind and sea, he's doing it," Tralmiltaram murmured. "He's actually doing it…" The mountain was disappearing from the bow. He fought through the wind to enter the pilot house, where digital screens showed the approaching mountain and the relative heights. "Status?"
The pilot's response was quick. "Ten thousand uta and rising, sir."
"Clearance?"
The violet-furred female kept looking ahead, with four of her hands occupied with the controls. "Twelve thousand and two hundred uta."
Tralmiltaram eyed the instruments. Given their remaining time and the rate of ascent… this was going too close to call. And there was still the storm, which would only get worse the higher they went. These ships could perform in higher atmospheres if necessary, and there was always leeway in the safety margins, but the cracking of the mast showed they were risking stepping over the line.
He looked with worry back out to the deck, where the Human who was saving them seemed oblivious to the wind whipping at his clothes and the rain blasting his face. His attention was wholly on saving the ship, and all Tralmiltaram could do at the moment was hope he succeeded.
The man who called himself John Goddard had never felt so betrayed by circumstance before. His foolproof weapon was thwarted. His cover was blown. An explosive that should have wounded, if not killed, his pursuer had barely stunned her. Now he was running for his life. His egress plans were in tatters. Capture meant eventual execution at the hands of either his employer or his target.
He couldn't even think about his contingencies either. Not with his foe possessing mind sensing. The need to act without thinking was contrary to his very being. His entire reputation was built upon his ability to think his way to any target and out of any situation.
That wasn't to say he couldn't manage it, just that it was difficult.
He was coming up to a hall leading toward his destination when two armed security confronted him from it. "Down! On the ground!" He ignored them. Let them fire. He couldn't stop. If he was lucky, they might even hit his pursuer. He ducked into the room to his right and rushed for the far suite. After shutting the door he retrieved an item from his pocket. The multidevice fit over his wrist perfectly. With it he activated his remote for his last hope of escape. It rose from the ground level - the staff parking lot - and approached the window.
While the security men entered the room and cleared the main living room, Goddard opened the window. The car was now just ten meters below and climbing.
The moment the door to the suite crashed open, he jumped.
Meridina threw the door open without touching it. There was a hint of fury in her expression that made the security personnel, both Kell Hound troopers, nervous, but they said nothing while following her. "Surrender!" she demanded, but she only caught a glimpse of the assassin as he jumped. She rushed to the window in time to see him land in an open-topped convertible aircar. The top slid close over him.
By that point, she was leaping. She landed on the top of the air car and brought her lightsaber down onto the roof. The material gave way to her blue blade, turning red-hot in the process. She pulled the blade back and went to strike again.
The aircar shot forward. Even with her skill Meridina lost her footing. She would have fallen off completely if she hadn't grabbed the wound she had just carved into the vehicle. There was a hint of hot pain in her left hand that gave way to numbness, not a good sign at all, and it was all she could do to hold on as the vehicle accelerated. It turned toward Old Connaught.
Letting go was not her intention. But her energy, her swevyra, screamed inside of her. Her life would end in seconds if she didn't. So she released her grip and began falling to the ground. Meridina disengaged her weapon and focused her power beneath her, using it to absorb the impact when she hit the ground with bone-jarring force.
She looked up in time to see a ruby beam slice clean through the aircar. It exploded in a fireball. She felt out and there was no sign of life from the wreckage as it fell to the ground. The assassin was gone, dead.
To her surprise and regret, a sense of satisfaction came to her. Not the basic satisfaction of preventing the assassin's escape, but a brief savage glee that the man who shot Lucy, who might have killed Lucy, was dead. Immediately she reproached herself at the thought. It was little better than the bit of dark satisfaction she'd felt at slaying Dralan Olati in their duel back on Jarod's home Earth nearly a year before. It was wrong to feel such, and that she felt it scared her.
She glanced to her rear and noticed one of the Kell Hounds' walking tanks, a 'BattleMech', standing over her. It was one of the smaller, shorter models, just a few meters in height, a humanoid form with a lupine head module. A hand that ended with a weapon muzzle was still elevated. "Commander, are you okay?" a female voice asked over a speaker. "That looked like a nasty fall."
It had been, but her powers had let her catch the force safely. Granted, it didn't do anything for her hand. Meridina glanced toward it and noticed the blackened, burned flesh from her instinctive grab of the hot wound her weapon had carved in the vehicle. "I am fine," she said simply, even if it was not at all true. She used her functioning right hand to trigger her omnitool. "Meridina to Richmond. The assassin is dead."
At the periphery of his senses, focused as they were on his desperate task, Robert could feel the worry and fear of the Gy'torans on the deck. The mountain ahead loomed close and the winds of the storm were driving the ship toward the highest point. This was going to be close. Everything depended upon him.
The weight of that alone could be crushing, but he bore it. He had to.
He did not see the mountain receding below them. He did not see the dark, open sky of the stormclouds ahead, a false safety certainly, but still better than hitting the mountain. All he felt was the golden warmth of the Flow of Life that empowered him, that connected him to the universe and made this feat possible.
It was this sense that told him he'd succeeded.
When his eyes opened, Robert started to feel a chill. His clothes were drenched with rainwater and sweat. He brought up a hand to shield his eyes from the powerful winds whipping across the deck and threatening his footing. Indeed, the ship was still swaying under his feet from the power of the wind buffeting it, and without the life line he ran the risk of falling and slipping right off the deck.
This all took time to process. Robert's head wobbled from the strain of his efforts, dulling him for the moment. That dullness kept him from reacting to the warning sense growing within.
There was a cracking sound. He turned in time to see that the increased winds and the prior damage to the ship were wrecking the main mast. It mostly collapsed in one piece at least.
But not entirely. A tangled line above caused one of the spars to disintegrate. Debris rained down on the deck, some of it small and inconsequential, and some of it quite large.
Such as the metal shard that struck the deck near the jagged remains of the mast… and severed his life line from its anchor.
He looked about for somewhere to secure the severed line. Before he could find something a wind gust blew across the deck and hit Robert with enough force that he fell over. The ship tilted in the same direction from the force of the winds against it. With the rainwater on the deck adding to the problem, he pitched toward the side of the deck. He threw his arms out to try and gain purchase, a handhold on the deck. He found one, it slipped, and then another, which slipped as well. The handholds were designed for the smaller hand and textured skin of a Gy'toran, not a human hand with human skin. The rain water left his hands too slippery to find purchase.
He did finally hit the rail and stopped for the moment. His hands gripped the rail. But the ship wasn't righting itself.
In the pilothouse, Tralmiltaram already knew why. The monitors showed that the anti-gravs on that side of the vessel had lost power, overloaded due to the unexpected strain. The entire ship was pitching and the ship was losing altitude. "Engineering, we need those anti-gravs back!"
"Acknowledged!"
Tralmiltaram braced himself with two of his limbs, holding himself to the side entrance of the pilothouse. Outside his crew were busy ensuring the lifelines were secured.
Then the ship's pitch worsened. The change in its attitude meant the wind pressed against it more strongly, which meant it twisted even more.
Robert braced himself against the rail with his arm while his feet tried and failed to find purchase. They dangled in the open air. His waterlogged sleeve and skin made keeping his grip difficult. His arm started to slip free. Below him trees and rocks loomed through the dark air of the storm, receding slowly as the Tri'kep cleared the mountain it would have otherwise crashed into. Could he land if he used his powers? Safely?
His senses made him think it highly unlikely.
But he wouldn't have a choice. His arm was starting to slip loose. He didn't know if he could hold on long enough for the ship to right itself, or help to arrive. His lifeline was curled up against the rail. He tried to focus on it. Maybe if he…
"Rob!"
Robert looked toward the stern. His eyes widened at the sight of Zack sliding down the deck, feet first, a life line tied around his ribs. It grew taunt as Zack reached the railing. His feet, bare, seemed ready to slip on the rain-slicked deck, but by crawling forward and keeping his knee braced against the base of the railing Zack was able to approach him. "Your line!" he shouted.
Robert nodded. He looked to the line and focused. He couldn't use his hands, not with his arms desperately gripping the railing with decreasing effectiveness. He relied entirely on raw focus to grip the line with his abilities. It lifted from the deck and shot over toward Zack.
Zack caught it against the deck. He wrapped the lifeline around the railing and then wormed what excess slack remained around his own, double-securing Robert's line.
At that point, Robert lost his grip on the railing and fell free.
The line went taunt. Pain shot through his torso, and given the grunt from Zack he felt the weight too. Robert wrapped his hands around the hanging line and held on.
Zack was holding his line too and started pulling. His bare hands found some traction despite the rain. He pulled with all of his might and lifted Robert up. "This would be a lot easier if you'd use your powers!" he shouted, with little effect given the howling wind.
Robert sensed what he said more than heard. "I'm not sure I can!" he shouted back. "I could end up overshooting and flying off the ship!"
"I didn't hear a damn word!" Zack grunted. The cord was biting into the skin of his hands from the strain of his gripped. "I'm not sure I can do this!"
"Cut me loose if you need to!" Robert shouted.
Zack did hear that. A defiant grin crossed his face. "Like I'm going back to tell Julia I dropped you! She'd kill me anyway!"
Through the rain Robert could make out his friend's grin. He matched it.
Crying out in effort, every muscle in his arms and chest burning, Zack pulled again and again. The remnant alcoholic haze in his head seemed to fade at the rush. Rain pelted his face and left his hair soaked, obscuring his vision. The shuddering of the ship seemed to threaten his falling from the Tri'kep should it list just another degree or two.
Regardless, he kept pulling.
Robert's hand reached the rail first. It was only as he started to brace his arm that the ship seemed to tilt again, this time back to its proper level. Zack grabbed Robert's arm and hauled him over the rail as it continued to right. Robert landed with a dull splash. The two rain-soaked men looked at each other and laughed in relief. "You could've gotten yourself killed!" Robert shouted over the wind.
"Like you almost did?!" Zack retorted. He tried to wipe the water from his eyes and failed. "At least I have an excuse!"
"Yeah?!"
To that Zack guffawed, "I'm still drunk!"
Robert's only response was to laugh. He continued to do so even when some of the deckhands arrived to escort them back below decks and out of the storm.
Julia and Commander Richmond arrived in the suites set aside for Primus Mori and Precentor-Martial Focht. They were seated with Secretary Onaran. "...disaster was at least minimized," Mori was saying. "The assassination of Prince Victor would have been a blow to the Inner Sphere."
"I concur." Onaran looked back, noticing the two officers. "Captain, Commander?"
"Commander Richmond has concluded her preliminary investigation and the Kell Hounds and planetary authorities will be taking over for her," Julia said. "From what she learned, the assassin who shot at Victor was a man named John Goddard. The weapon he used was a TR-116 with a unique modification: a miniature transporter."
"What do you mean by that?" Mori asked.
Julia glanced to Richmond. "With the appropriate sighting gear, which we found attached to the weapon, a sniper can fire through any number of obstacles and walls. The transporter attached to the weapon beams the fired projectile into point blank range of the target. The only defense is an active anti-beaming area-effect field. We were only using a standard anti-beaming field, which does not prevent beaming within the field's range, only transport in and out."
"Why one and not the other?" asked Focht.
"Because the TR-116's modifications are unique, sir. The transporter applied is a specially-made model, normal transporters cannot usually acquire and transport a moving projectile at such a velocity. As a result, the threat was not anticipated and an area of effect field deemed unnecessary due to technical and resource costs. Alliance security protocol will have to be updated now that we are aware of the possibility." Richmond frowned. "Whomever provided the specifications, they are still unknown. And the assassin's death precludes determining his source through interrogation. It is regrettable that the Kell Hound guards opened fire as they did."
"Indeed."
"If I may, Primus, Precentor-Martial?" Julia waited for them to nod before continuing. "You seemed to recognize the cyborg. Can you tell us anything?"
The two ComStar leaders exchanged glances. "This should not leave the room, although we authorize the Secretary to share this information with President Morgan and Admiral Maran only in strictest confidence," Mori said.
"Agreed," the Dorei man answered.
"Her name was Amara de Luca," Focht said. "Specifically, Adept Amara de Luca of ROM."
Julia frowned. "ROM. As in your security and intelligence agency?"
"Yes." Focht nodded. "At our order, Precentor Pardeau dispatched her three years ago to infiltrate the schismatic branch of ComStar in the Free Worlds League. They currently operate there as the Word of Blake. She missed her scheduled contact point seven months ago. And we have not heard from her since."
"Dear God," Richmond gasped. "They did that to her, didn't they? They turned her into that… thing."
"We know that the Word of Blake secured what materials existed for our cybernetic combat augmentation projects," Mori said. "But our intelligence on them remains thin."
"There are similar capabilities in other societies in the Multiverse," Julia observed. "The Coserians of N2S7, the Bynars and Choblik in S5T3, the Solarians of S0T5, to name just a few." Julia thought of the Cybermen as well, not to mention the horror of the Borg. "These Word of Blake people might have acquired further assistance from any of them."
"A sobering possibility," Onaran noted. "I will share this information with President Morgan and the Defense Staff under the strictest classification. We may have to consider upgrading threat assessments of this organization."
The remark was welcomed by the two ComStar leaders. Focht turned his attention to Julia next. "Do you have news about Lieutenant Lucero?"
"She's in stable condition in our medbay," Julia replied. "Doctor Gillam was able to remove the projectile and repair the worst damage in emergency surgery."
"She has our gratitude and wishes for her swift recovery." Focht folded his hands together in his lap. "The concern now is for the summit. The disruptions are making progress difficult. And the Clans' distrust of the Inner Sphere has only worsened by what has been displayed. I do not think any extension of the Truce of Tukkayid is feasible."
"What if you simply expanded it then?" Julia asked. When she had their attention, she said, "The Clans still sometimes raid above the line, right?"
"Not as often as we anticipated they would, but they do," Focht answered.
"Well, what if you talked them into a secondary truce that covers both sides entirely? For the duration of the war at least and sometime afterward? They're getting all the fights they want now, so their warriors are getting the advancement that was turning them against the Truce."
"A reasonable prospect," Onaran stated. "And perhaps the best that can be attained at this point."
"It has merit," Mori agreed. "We will propose it at the next meeting, once military discussions have concluded."
"Your contribution is welcome, Captain." Onaran nodded to her.
Seeing there was nothing more to be said on the matter, Julia asked, "Permission to be dismissed?"
"Granted."
In the Aurora's medbay Meridina looked over her hand. The burn damage was gone, healed by the advanced technology available to Leo and his medical team, and her presence was solely for Lucy's sake now. She lowered her hand and looked again to Lucy, who slept peacefully on a biobed in the standard care ward of the medbay. Displays showed her vital signs for the benefit of the passing nurses and doctors. They seemed to show her as in a stable condition.
Looking at Lucy, her tanned, light bronze complexion paled by blood loss and a life being spent in space, forced Meridina to think about the feelings she was dreading. The thought of Lucy's death was a horror, a real visceral one beyond the reaction Meridina knew she should have. Her brief glee at the destruction of the being who had come so close to killing Lucy worried her greatly. That was not how Meridina should act, whether or not she was in the Order. It was a potential path to darkness.
Meridina drew in a breath and focused inward for the source of it. Why would she feel that way toward that loss? The loss of a friend or associate was painful, yes, but the sheer emotion behind it, behind the mere possibility…
No. That… I… She picked at the thought as one would test a bruise or a damaged, aching tooth. This was an unexpected sensation. She could understand that she was closer to Lucy than to others on the crew, so there was reason to feel the loss more keenly, but the mere thought of Lucy being gone brought an emptiness to her. That was surprising. Lucy had been part of her life for only a few years now, only really the last thirty months (thirty Gersallian months anyway, by Human reckoning it was closer to thirty-four). In that time she had repeatedly surprised Meridina, manifesting her swevyra, showing great promise in her training, great skill in moments of danger…
And she was there for me. On Gersal. Against Goras.
She remembered the waiting room, when her combat testing against Goras was yet to be waged. Lucy kneeling with her, begging her to reconsider, so upset at Meridina's readiness to die. "Don't you know there are people who care about you? People who love you and don't want to lose you?! People who will be hurt if they no longer have you in their lives?!" It had been plainly evident that as much as Meridina's own family counted in that, Lucy had been describing her own feelings.
And now… now Meridina had them too. She knew a life without Lucy would be full of pain.
Meridina found that both frightening and exciting, and she wasn't sure which feeling was the one she should be concerned about.
It's not how it should be, Robert thought glumly, laying on his bed in a fresh set of clothes. "Life has no sense of drama sometimes," he said aloud.
That won him a bewildered look from Zack. "What?" he asked flatly, sitting bare-chested on the other bed in a fresh set of underwear and a blue towel draped over his shoulders. "You just lifted a flying cruise ship with your mind or whatever it is. And then nearly fell off in a raging storm until I caught you. That's pretty Goddamned dramatic."
"Yeah, but once it was over, that's when the storm should have ended," Robert protested. He gestured with his arm toward the window ports behind him. The dark clouds persisted outside and rain still pelted the ports. The ship was even shuddering a little under the onslaught of wind. "The sun should've pierced the clouds or something, casting golden rays…"
"This isn't a movie, Sir Robert," Zack guffawed.
After a moment of silence, both men began to roar with laughter. The real terror and fear of what had transpired on deck melted away, even with the storm still battering the damaged Tri'kep.
"Is that your new nickname for me?" asked Robert.
"Only when you try to play the hero."
"Like how you call Tom 'Teddo' whenever he gets on your nerves?"
Zack smirked at that. "Probably, yeah."
Robert nodded and sat up to face his friend. The grin remained on his face. He let out a light sigh and ran a hand through his wet hair. "Thank you, Zack. You saved my life."
"You're welcome, Rob. It's a shame you can't fly, though."
"I don't think flying is something people with our abilities can do," Robert admitted. "I mean, not like you see in comic books or something. And absorbing the impact of falling is usually not from so high up and in the middle of a storm like this." He looked to the port again. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"
"6th Grade," Zack confirmed. "We spent how long in that shelter?"
"Four hours. Without any toys or books or games." Robert shook his head. "And without Julia or Susannah to pass the time with."
"We managed it, though," Zack reminded him.
"Yeah."
Silence reigned again. Both went into thought. Zack ultimately brought his head back up. "I want to get control of this," he confessed. "You were right about that. I have to stop."
Robert nodded. "It's what I'm here for."
"I thought I could do it alone. I… I didn't want…" Zack shook his head. "Well, you know how I feel, right?"
"You don't want to be carried. You're afraid you'll end up like your Dad. The drunk the entire county seems to know about, that everyone judges or pities."
"I was already pitied. Growing up. Not by you and your family, or at least it didn't feel that way…"
"We did pity you," Robert admitted. "But Mom warned us about it. She knew you and your Mom had to have some pride."
"Your Mom was a smart woman." Zack's eyes glistened with tears. "She and my mom…"
"Yeah. She was devastated when your mom passed. I think she hated your Dad after that. She blamed him for your Mom dying so young."
"I hated him often enough for the same reason," Zack admitted. "I always thought it wasn't fair that he lived and she didn't." While tears flowed Zack shrugged. "Now I'm in his shoes. Inside." He tapped his chest. "I still want it, Rob. I want to control it, I want to stop, but in here there's a part of me that enjoys just shutting down. Drinking until there's nothing in here, nothing that hurts."
"I guess that's always going to be with you," Robert lamented. "Grandpa told me that's how it was with his uncle. The one who survived the Argonne. He lost so many friends, and he was in so much pain from his wounds, he just kept drinking as a way to deal with it. Even when he had to stop, Uncle Henry wanted a drink every day until he died."
"A drunk? In the Dale family?"
To that Robert snorted with laughter. "We weren't as perfect as you thought, Zack. No matter what your Dad may have grumbled."
"I guess so." Zack chuckled at that. "I guess I have to live with this. With the need I mean. The temptation."
"But you can get help with that. I mean, you can do it without giving up your pride. It's not like you don't have a lot to be proud of already. You're a Founder of New Liberty like the rest of us. They'll be naming schools and roads and starships for you one day."
"Not sure I deserve some of that," Zack admitted. "Not just because New Liberty was mostly you and Julia and Beth. I got drunk on patrol, Rob. If I hadn't resigned my commission they'd probably have forced me out anyway."
"Maybe, maybe not. But if we get you cleaned up, I think Maran can work with that." Robert folded his legs under him, as if about to start meditating. "If you get help you can get back to your ship."
"You're more confident than me in that." Zack shook his head. "But it really doesn't matter. I have to do something about this, especially if I'm going to deal with my other feelings. So I guess I'll go find a therapist or something and let Maran know about it."
"The best thing you can do."
"As for my feelings about Julia…" He shrugged. "I've lived for years with them. Nothing'll change either way."
"Right."
Before the conversation could continue, Robert looked to the ports. A little light was now shining over the horizon. The storm clouds were breaking. "Looks like we made it through. We should be to Ilam Tran in the morning I guess. Even though we're off-course."
"Good. And if I may, Rob?"
"What?"
"We're going back in a shuttle," Zack insisted. "Do you understand me? A shuttle. Even if I have to hotwire it. Are we clear?"
Robert's "Yes" was followed by laughter.
Ship's Log: ASV Aurora; 26 April 2643 AST. Captain Julia Andreys recording. The summit meetings are still ongoing, but today the Inner Sphere and Clans have officially expanded the Truce of Tukkayid into a general truce between both sides, encompassing all space held by either. For the first time in years there should be no significant fighting in the Inner Sphere, allowing for forces from both sides to support the offensive against the Earth of S4W8.
The signing of the truce was held back until the day's military strategy meeting ended. Julia attended with several officers. The Khans signed on behalf of the Clan Grand Council, with any Clan defying the truce now facing punishment from the others; similarly Focht, Victor, Ragnar Magnusson, Thomas Marik, and Theodore Kurita signed for the Great Houses, with a similar pledge. The terms were verified as the signatures were given; the Truce of Ark-Royal would replace the Truce of Tukkayid for the duration of hostilities with the Nazi Reich plus one year, after which it would dissolve and the Truce of Tukkayid would again be in force.
"You know, given the wording," Jarod was saying in a low voice, "one could argue the Clans just agreed to add at least a year to the Tukkayid Truce. It was supposed to last fifteen years, after all, but it's effectively been frozen until this truce ends."
"Somehow I don't think the Crusaders would agree," Julia pointed out.
As soon as the truce signing was over, a hand went up. Julia felt somewhat perturbed to see it was Katrina. She was recognized by Mori. "Before we disperse, I would like to say one thing." She turned her attention toward Julia and her colleagues. "My thanks, and the thanks of the Lyran people and indeed all of the worlds of the Federated Commonwealth, go out to the officers of the Alliance vessel Aurora for their efforts in thwarting the assassins who attempted to disrupt this historic occasion. You have saved my life and my brother's life. Our people will not forget your service."
"We humbly accept your thanks, Your Highness," Julia answered formally.
Katrina nodded and sat back down. Victor stood instead. "I too would like to formally thank you. Particularly Lieutenant Lucilla Lucero, who twice put herself in the path of a bullet meant for members of my family." He approached them after receiving a box from Cranston. "For your actions in saving my sister's life and my own, Lieutenant, I present you with the Order of Steiner-Davion." He opened the box, presenting a shield-shaped red medal with a blue-eyed Fox emblazoned on it.
Lucy accepted the box with a small blush on her cheeks. Just a faint one; it was hardly the first time she had been presented with a high honor, as the Senate Order of Merit on the left breast of her dress uniform jacket demonstrated. "Thank you, Your Highness," she replied.
"You are most welcome." Victor's gratitude was evident to all. As was, at least to the senses of Meridina and Lucy, the swell of gratitude from the viewing gallery where the elegantly-attired Omi Kurita was watching with other non-participating VIPs. "In addition to the Order, it is also customary for someone who has saved the life of the sovereign to be declared a knight. Although you are not a citizen of the Commonwealth, I am still extending the distinction to you, Dame Lucilla."
"I am honored," Lucy answered. "Does this involve the full ceremony?"
To that Victor grinned. "If you desire it."
"If it is okay with you, I am satisfied with the announcement, Highness," Lucy answered.
Victor nodded in acceptance, never losing the grin, and returned to his seat. Others in the audience murmured slightly. For some the idea of forgoing a formal knighthood ceremony was ludicrous, but there could be little surprise that someone from another universe would feel differently on the matter.
"This summit's business is concluded," remarked Primus Mori. "We are adjourned."
"Another successful mission," Jarod said to Julia. "At this rate you're going to make Admiral before you hit thirty."
"I'd be satisfied if it's before I hit forty," Julia answered. "As things are, I'm happy with my command right now."
"Ah." Jarod grinned at her. "You know the best part about this being over now?"
"What?"
"We can make the anniversary again," Jarod pointed out, still grinning.
Julia matched it. He needn't state which anniversary he meant. "I'll have to check with Maran, but yeah. Unless there's something urgent, we'll make the Founding anniversary in plenty of time." A small, sad look appeared on her face. "I hope Rob and Zack make it, at least."
Jarod nodded in agreement. "I do too."
They departed at that point. Julia found herself contemplating the last few days. The motives of a group like the Word of Blake were evident. From what she knew of the ComStar rebels, they abhorred Mori's liberalization of their order, and they were viciously opposed to the Alliance's technology-sharing programs and deals with the Inner Sphere. Breaking up the summit made sense.
But the assassin who tried to shoot Victor. The one who shot Lucy instead. Who was he? Who hired him? It irked Julia that she might never know.
A short time later, Katrina Steiner returned to her suite, frustration and anger burning inside of her. She was met by her advisor Tormano Liao. The latter, the uncle of Sun-Tzu and brother of Candace Liao of the St. Ives Compact, bowed his head in respect. "Princess, you were as majestic as always."
"It was necessary." Katrina took the best seat. "I couldn't allow anyone to say I was ungrateful. Although Victor upstaged me quite well by handing out the Order of Steiner-Davion to the Alliance woman." Damn him, she thought. You had to compound the insult, didn't you Victor? You just had to grind it in my face, the power you wield over me.
"He could hardly allow himself to seem ungrateful to the woman who saved his life," Tormano pointed out. "Although the granting of a knighthood might have gone a little too far, perhaps. Particularly with the ceremony involved turned down."
She didn't deign to indicate her grudging agreement with Tormano. Inwardly she stewed about the failure of her plan. If not for those damned metasensory types, psychics or whatever they were, Victor would be dead and she would be Archon-Princess! That someone else sent an assassin as well made the opportunity all the more appealing, if frightening given the attempt on her life. If the cyborg had gotten away she could have even used it against Victor by ensuring the right people made the right charges over the media.
And yet, despite everything, it was stopped…!
At least the assassin was dead. She didn't have to worry about that loose end.
"I worry about your brother." The voice came from the other occupant of the room. The woman, Benedita Soveral, was clad in the basic duty uniform of the Alliance Stellar Navy, a silver aiguillette on the left side of her uniform jacket marking her a staff officer and burgundy red branch trim denoting command branch, and the single gold square rank tab of a Rear Admiral on both sides of her collar. Her Mediterranean complexion contrasted with Katrina's light skin and the East Asian tone of Tormano.
Soveral's presence with Katrina's staff was one of Katrina's victories over Victor; demanding her own military liaison officer from the Allied Systems. Although Katrina had never imagined she might get such use from that victory...
"Admiral Soveral." Katrina nodded. "Whatever do you mean?"
"He is too close to the mind-readers," Soveral said. "To Robert Dale and now Lucilla Lucero. I cannot help but worry that his will and mind will become… compromised."
"I see." Katrina smiled thinly. "I appreciate your concern for my brother's mental independence. The freedom of the Federated Commonwealth is at stake…" And since I have lost my assassin, perhaps it will be your Admiral Davies who provides me the means to assume my rightful station as ruler of the Commonwealth and First Lord of a reborn Star League.
The man who had called himself John Goddard walked into the empty room aboard the small star vessel. He felt none the worse for wear for his close escape.
His backup, a human woman of dark skin clad in a blue jumpsuit, smiled at him. "Congratulations," she said. "You're dead."
"So the cloned tissues worked." He frowned. "But can that agent keep her mouth shut?"
"She is not a mercenary like yourself, Mister Thayer, or the Kell Hounds she was asked to join," the woman replied. "She knows her duty. And as for you… your new employer was impressed."
"By a failure?" John Goddard a.k.a. Noble Thayer, also once Karl Kole, was frowning. "Prince Victor didn't even get hit."
"That was never our goal. That was Princess Katherine's goal. We simply made use of it in your evaluation, and you succeeded. Congratulations." She grinned wickedly. "I hope you're ready to be rich."
Technically speaking, he was already quite well off for his prior jobs, even accounting for the funds he lost escaping from the Commonwealth. This wasn't for money. "And my employer? Do I finally get to meet them?"
The woman replied by turning and hitting a key. A circle lit up on the floor. "Step in."
The assassin did so. A system scanned him swiftly, after which a holographic figure began to appear in front of him. A Human male, Caucasian, middle-aged at least, in what looked like a metal or plastic chair. Goddard watched his new employer light a cigarette and take a single drag from it.
And that was when he met those eyes, those inhuman blue eyes, and had his first inkling of worry that he was getting in over his head.
"Good day to you, Mister… Goddard, is it now?"
"I have a lot of names," replied the man.
"So you do." The man took another drag from his cigarette. "And your ability to use them to the fullest advantage is one of the reasons I invested time and effort in your evaluation. My organization can use men of your professional ability and skill."
"And you are…?" asked the assassin.
"You can call me the Illusive Man," was the reply. "I oversee Cerberus, an organization dedicated to the cause of Humanity. And I would like to hire you."
Caterina was eating dinner alone in the Lookout. Violeta was on the bridge for an extra watch for the evening, and with all her work in the science labs done there was nothing more to do.
The look on her face undoubtedly served to lure Angel over to her. "How are you?" she asked her sister. "You look sad."
Cat forced a small grin when she faced her sister, but there was no hiding the tears in her eyes. She drew in a breath. "I guess I am."
"What's wrong, Cat?" Angel asked as she sat down, her meal in front of her. "Did you and Vee…"
"She's being reassigned," Cat said. "They're going to make her a full Lieutenant and a navigation officer on another ship. I mean, like Nick is here."
"Oh." Angel nodded. "Okay. I mean, that's good news for her I guess."
"We won't see each other any more. I mean, we'll be on different ships, probably in different universes most of the time… we can't…" Cat sniffled and shrugged. "I mean, I know some people manage it. But what if we can't make it work?"
"Well, maybe you won't." Angel reached over the table and took her sister's hand. "Relationships don't always last. But you'll at least have happy memories."
"Even if it hurts?" Cat blinked back her tears. "Is that how it is with you and Rob?"
"Pretty much," Angel admitted. "Just remember that. Whatever happens, the memories made it worth it. And maybe… well, maybe you'll find someone new."
"I don't know…" Cat shook her head. "I guess. I'll really miss her though. I'm so used to having her sleeping beside me, holding me when I… y'know, when I have bad dreams."
"You still have nightmares?" Angel asked.
"Well, yeah. Some are old. Some aren't. And Vee helps me get over them."
"Good for her. But you know, if she's not here, I always am."
Cat nodded. The smile became genuine. "Yeah, you are. I can't forget that. You're always here for me if I need it."
"What else is a big sister for?" Angel's grin turned mischievous. "Besides punching people who are mean to you?"
"Or goblins who try to stab me in the game," Cat giggled.
At that, Angel laughed.
Days after the storm that nearly crashed the Tri'kep, Robert and Zack stood at the one place Zack never thought he would ever see.
The gravestone dedicated to Clara Davis was not much larger than any of the others in the county cemetery. But it was impressive in the beautiful way it had been carved, the fine finish of the stone, and the sharp, well-crafted engraving. Clara's name was joined by her dates of birth and death, as was standard, and the epitaph "Beloved by all who knew her, may she know peace forever". An angel - clearly contributed by her family for the design - was carved near the upper corner. The other corner bore the firebird insignia of New Caprica.
Both men were wearing their Sunday best, as they would have put it in another life; dress jacket and button-down white shirts with dress ties and black trousers. Robert reached up and patted Zack on the shoulder. "Beth told me about the funeral," he said.
"She was here?"
"Clara was a volunteer of New Liberty, remember? It seemed right." Robert's smile was sad and soft. "President Roslin brought an entourage as well. Admiral Adama, Doctor Cottle, and some of the children she'd tended to in the school. Roslin and Beth announced that their governments are co-founding and co-funding a scholarship program in Clara's name, to send kids from our Earth to medical schools across the Multiverse."
"That's going to cost a lot."
"They've gotten a few donors to help out." Robert watched the tears flow freely down his friend's cheeks. "Clara made a difference out there, just as we did. She became a symbol of how much good people can do if they're just given the chance. Nobody can take that from her, ever."
"That's not what she wanted, Rob." There was a bitterness in Zack's voice. "She… she didn't go out there to be a symbol. She went out there because she thought she could do better… and because she wanted to be closer to me. All… all we were going to do was live a life on New Caprica. I was going to coach the kids in baseball and she… she'd nurse..." Zack stopped. He was sobbing too hard to continue speaking coherently.
"Yeah." Robert nodded. He kept a comforting hand on Zack's shoulder, feeling the sheer grief in his friend's heart, a component of the knot that months later still tortured Zack's very soul. "And I think that's why she's such a symbol now. She wasn't looking for it."
Zack gave no reaction to that. Robert didn't mind.
After taking a minute to get his sobbing under control returning to just the stream of tears flowing from his eyes, Zack reached into his pocket and removed a box of fine red velvet. Robert watched him open it and remove a beautiful ring set with diamonds. Zack kept the ring between his fingers and considered it. A small hollow feeling came over Robert at the realization of just what the ring was made for.
Zack put the ring back in the box and knelt at Clara's grave. "You knew how I felt about Julia," he said, "and you gave me your love anyway. I… I wish you were still here. I wish we could have had the life you wanted. You were… you were the kindest woman I've ever known, and I swear to God I would have been the husband you deserved. I would have given you the love you deserved, no matter what." Zack set the red ring box down at the base of the gravestone. "This is yours, Clara. No matter where my life goes or what happens, I'll always remember you, and you'll always have the love you deserved. Goodbye."
By the end of his final goodbye, Zack's voice was breaking. He stood up and wiped the tears from his eyes. His head turned slightly. They were just a few rows from where his parents lay. Robert felt a lump in his throat at the thought that they were also a few rows from where his parents, grandparents, and sister were laid to rest as well.
And Julia's parents. And Leo's. Cat and Angel's parents are over in the Catholic section… The thought of all of the family members he and his friends had resting in this place served as a reminder of what they had all lost and, perhaps, why none of them were ever considering coming back to Kansas.
"Do you know what I want, Rob?" Zack asked quietly.
Robert had a good idea of the answer. He still asked, "What?"
"I want a drink." Zack certainly didn't mean water. "I want to drown the pain in tequila until I stop feeling."
"I know."
"She would be mad at me for feeling this way."
"Julie or Clara?"
"Both." Zack shook his head. "I can't help it though. I… I'll always want a drink, I guess. Maybe sometimes I won't want one too much, but still…"
"I think that's how it goes, sometimes at least. But maybe not for you?"
"I'll believe it when I stop wanting a drink," Zack answered. He sighed. "We probably shouldn't keep Lennier and Druni waiting."
"Right." Robert raised his forearm and activated his omnitool. "Keyeri, we're ready."
The two had time to give the cemetery one last look before the transporter beams pulled them away.
The Keyeri made orbit quickly and was soon on its way to a station-keeping point out past the Lagrange points. In the ship's mess area Druni was eating her favored seemai snacks when Robert and Zack entered. "We will drop you off on New Liberty, then?" she asked.
"Yes," Robert said. He looked to Zack, who nodded back. "There are people there who can help him."
"I will let Lennier know to set a course, but first…" Druni set her snacks down. "While you were down there, we received a communication for you."
"Oh?" Robert's brow furrowed. "From Beth?"
"No." Druni gave him an intent look. "It was from the President of the Allied Systems. Looking to speak to you."
That prompted Zack to look at Robert too. Robert blinked. "Did he say what he wanted?"
"He would not discuss it with me, only that he needed you in Portland immediately for a meeting of great importance."
Robert sighed at that. Technically he was on extended leave until considered recovered from his coma, but if Morgan was calling, he could expect that leave to be effectively rescinded. "I suppose you'd better get a jump to L2M1 instead, then."
"I will let Lennier know." Druni stood and left the mess.
"Do you think they're giving you a new ship?" Zack asked.
"From what Maran told me? No." Robert shook his head. "Too many admirals don't want me in the command chair given my history of 'leaving my post', as they put it. And frankly, I'm fine with that. With my abilities, and what I know… I think I'm supposed to stay out of command from now on."
Zack nodded. "I guess I can see that. But if it's not a command…"
"...then what is it?" Robert finished for him. He grinned. "I guess I'll find out soon enough."
Just a few hours later, Robert was in his formal Stellar Navy duty uniform for the first time in months. Whatever the admirals who hated him felt, his rank insignia showed he was still a Captain, and it did get him nods and respectful glances as he went through the Executive Mansion in Portland. His destination, as it turned out, was a conference room, one of many.
And he wasn't the first to arrive.
The first person he saw was Admiral Maran, sitting in a chair at the end of the table looking over reports. Maran noticed him and silently nodded. Robert knew they weren't going to speak yet. That would come later. So he looked over the others present.
The first face he found in this search was a familiar one, and the person in question was already approaching him to talk. "Hey, so they did call you in for this." A smile crossed the man's face. "How have you been, Rob?"
"Getting along, Buck," Robert replied.
Buck Rogers, the time-displaced astronaut and pilot from Universe N2C5, let the smile grow while offering his hand. Robert shook it. Buck was in uniform as well, the brilliant white uniform of the Earth Directorate from his home universe. "It's good to see you again."
"Same here. How have you been doing?"
"Oh, the usual," Buck said. "Earth - my Earth - is officially part of the Alliance now, so things have quieted down a little. The Draconians are staying away for the moment."
"Hopefully it'll stay that way," remarked Robert. "The others?"
"Fine as always. Wilma's off at the front, actually, commanding our expeditionary wing flying with your fleet against the Nazi Reich. Doctor Theopolis and Twiki are still working with Doctor Huer." Buck grinned. "There's a rumor that Doctor Theopolis might get named to the Alliance Senate, along with Huer."
Robert blinked. "Really? That would be… well, history-making, certainly."
"That's right. Oh." Buck gestured to his right. "Got another mutual friend here to show you."
The man Buck led him to was in the corner. Robert recognized him immediately. "Commander Kane?"
"Major Kane now, Captain," replied Carter Kane, the former Marine troops commander of the Aurora. He was in the proper olive-colored formal uniform of the Alliance Marines. Several medals, including an Alliance Star of Valor, were visible on his uniform.
"I heard about what happened," Robert said. "They managed to grow you new arms?"
Kane smiled slightly and shook his head. "No. It would've left me off-duty for months, I wasn't sitting the war out that long." He held up his right arm. With a faint metallic whine Kane's hand folded outward, revealing the metal structure beneath the authentic-looking pseudoskin… and a weapon barrel built into the arm. "Combat prosthetics," he said. "And compatible with battle armor. I was waiting for Command to get me a unit when I got the call to see the President."
"Any idea of what's going on?" Robert asked them.
"Not a clue," said Buck. "But with all of us, there's no telling what they have in mind."
At that point the far door opened. Everyone turned and watched President Morgan walk in. Tall, well-dressed, with fine dark skin from his distant African ancestors, the President of the Allied Systems gave them all an intent look. Behind him was the President of the Senate, Senator Sriroj Thiang, a Thai woman that Robert could remember from as far back as the initial negotiations to found the Alliance. "Everyone, please be seated," he said aloud.
One by one everyone found seats at the table. Robert ended up sitting beside Kane and a purple-skinned, blue-spotted Dorei man. Glancing around the table he made out several more people of all four species of the Alliance. Some were in Alliance military uniform, a couple in member service uniforms, and others had on fine civilian suits. He noticed the red robes of a Temple Knight of the Gersallian Order of Swenya on one attendee, and the blue robes of a field knight in the same order on another. A set of purple robes that resembled a Japanese kimono were on a Dorei woman of dark teal complexion and purple spots and hair matching the color of the robes, presumably marking her as a member of one of the Dorei religious orders with the same powers he had.
"Greetings." Morgan took a seat at the head of the table. Maran was to one side of him, and Senator Sriroj on the other. Beside Maran sat General Hatcher - the head of military intelligence - and across from him was the Speaker of the Alliance Council, a brown-feathered, gray-complexioned Alakin named Freepk. "I'm sure you're all wondering why you've been called." A few murmurs of agreement came from the assembled. "Each of you represent the finest in the organizations you have trained in. At one time or another you have faced high odds against you and managed to win anyway. And ultimately, you have all shown that you possess strong senses of right and wrong and a good character. That is why I have called you today."
"When we formed the Alliance, it was with the noblest intentions," Morgan continued. "It was to be the foundation for a new interstellar, Multiversal order, where species and star systems would attain peace by mutual cooperation and security. But it's clear we have a long way to go to build that Multiverse. There are threats to us, to the way we want to do things, and they have to be met. We are already at war with one due to the machinations of another, a group that we can count on to continue to bedevil us even with our new defenses against further infiltration."
"Even some of our allies for the moment may not remain so," he continued. "While others have also looked to cooperation for interstellar security, they are not above using sabotage and espionage, even assassination, to deal with those they consider threats to their interests. They may even resort to military force if they deem it worthwhile."
"It would be nice if we could ignore such means ourselves. But it won't do us or our ideals any good if we are defeated by foes we have no defense against."
Robert frowned. What was Morgan doing? A chill came to him as he thought of what the Alliance President might be building up to, of the things he and Maran had already done in the name of protecting the Alliance. His mind flashed back to the Changeling taken prisoner in the Senate attack, turned over to be a guinea pig for Sidney Hank's researchers.
Morgan placed his hands on the table. "But neither can we embrace these methods without some kind of check on them. That is why I have brought Senate President Sriroj and Speaker Freepk to meet you as well. They will be taking a role in what we are forming here today and ensure that we keep an accounting of ourselves in this work. There will be as much transparency as we can manage."
"Transparency on what, Mister President?" asked Kane. He was frowning as well.
"On you, Major, and what I ask you to do in the name of our Alliance," Morgan answered. He looked over them. "You have all heard of the Spectres?"
"Do you mean the special operatives employed by the Citadel Council against perceived threats, sir?" asked an Alakin in the uniform of the Alakin Union Defense Force.
"Yes. Those Spectres are fully supported by the Council. They provide for them and protect them. And in return the Spectres do whatever they feel they need to in order to enforce the laws and decisions of the Council, regardless of the costs." Morgan shook his head. "Such agents can be useful, yes. Having Spectres may have helped prevent last year's Senate attack, for instance. And with the consideration and support of the Council and Senate, the Alliance will field such agents as well."
By now Robert realized what Morgan was doing. He waited for him to finish.
"The Citadel has its Spectres." Morgan's voice grew firm. "I want something more. I want beings who can do this job without giving up on what we stand for, beings who will act with a code of ethics, a morality, beyond simple expediency and brutal pragmatism, and capable of accepting the need for oversight of their actions." His eyes met each of the attending in turn, including Robert. He could sense Morgan's resolve. His need to honor the morals and ethics he held in his heart and to have those who would do the same. "So I ask you, heroes and soldiers of the Alliance, to accept my invitation to become our Alliance's answer to the Citadel's Spectres. I ask you to become Paladins."
Robert did not see the mountain. His eyes were closed and his focus entirely on the power within him, sustaining both the energy necessary to save the Tri'kep and the control on said energy. That was all that mattered - the storm that still raged could no longer register.
"Spirits of wind and sea, he's doing it," Tralmiltaram murmured. "He's actually doing it…" The mountain was disappearing from the bow. He fought through the wind to enter the pilot house, where digital screens showed the approaching mountain and the relative heights. "Status?"
The pilot's response was quick. "Ten thousand uta and rising, sir."
"Clearance?"
The violet-furred female kept looking ahead, with four of her hands occupied with the controls. "Twelve thousand and two hundred uta."
Tralmiltaram eyed the instruments. Given their remaining time and the rate of ascent… this was going too close to call. And there was still the storm, which would only get worse the higher they went. These ships could perform in higher atmospheres if necessary, and there was always leeway in the safety margins, but the cracking of the mast showed they were risking stepping over the line.
He looked with worry back out to the deck, where the Human who was saving them seemed oblivious to the wind whipping at his clothes and the rain blasting his face. His attention was wholly on saving the ship, and all Tralmiltaram could do at the moment was hope he succeeded.
The man who called himself John Goddard had never felt so betrayed by circumstance before. His foolproof weapon was thwarted. His cover was blown. An explosive that should have wounded, if not killed, his pursuer had barely stunned her. Now he was running for his life. His egress plans were in tatters. Capture meant eventual execution at the hands of either his employer or his target.
He couldn't even think about his contingencies either. Not with his foe possessing mind sensing. The need to act without thinking was contrary to his very being. His entire reputation was built upon his ability to think his way to any target and out of any situation.
That wasn't to say he couldn't manage it, just that it was difficult.
He was coming up to a hall leading toward his destination when two armed security confronted him from it. "Down! On the ground!" He ignored them. Let them fire. He couldn't stop. If he was lucky, they might even hit his pursuer. He ducked into the room to his right and rushed for the far suite. After shutting the door he retrieved an item from his pocket. The multidevice fit over his wrist perfectly. With it he activated his remote for his last hope of escape. It rose from the ground level - the staff parking lot - and approached the window.
While the security men entered the room and cleared the main living room, Goddard opened the window. The car was now just ten meters below and climbing.
The moment the door to the suite crashed open, he jumped.
Meridina threw the door open without touching it. There was a hint of fury in her expression that made the security personnel, both Kell Hound troopers, nervous, but they said nothing while following her. "Surrender!" she demanded, but she only caught a glimpse of the assassin as he jumped. She rushed to the window in time to see him land in an open-topped convertible aircar. The top slid close over him.
By that point, she was leaping. She landed on the top of the air car and brought her lightsaber down onto the roof. The material gave way to her blue blade, turning red-hot in the process. She pulled the blade back and went to strike again.
The aircar shot forward. Even with her skill Meridina lost her footing. She would have fallen off completely if she hadn't grabbed the wound she had just carved into the vehicle. There was a hint of hot pain in her left hand that gave way to numbness, not a good sign at all, and it was all she could do to hold on as the vehicle accelerated. It turned toward Old Connaught.
Letting go was not her intention. But her energy, her swevyra, screamed inside of her. Her life would end in seconds if she didn't. So she released her grip and began falling to the ground. Meridina disengaged her weapon and focused her power beneath her, using it to absorb the impact when she hit the ground with bone-jarring force.
She looked up in time to see a ruby beam slice clean through the aircar. It exploded in a fireball. She felt out and there was no sign of life from the wreckage as it fell to the ground. The assassin was gone, dead.
To her surprise and regret, a sense of satisfaction came to her. Not the basic satisfaction of preventing the assassin's escape, but a brief savage glee that the man who shot Lucy, who might have killed Lucy, was dead. Immediately she reproached herself at the thought. It was little better than the bit of dark satisfaction she'd felt at slaying Dralan Olati in their duel back on Jarod's home Earth nearly a year before. It was wrong to feel such, and that she felt it scared her.
She glanced to her rear and noticed one of the Kell Hounds' walking tanks, a 'BattleMech', standing over her. It was one of the smaller, shorter models, just a few meters in height, a humanoid form with a lupine head module. A hand that ended with a weapon muzzle was still elevated. "Commander, are you okay?" a female voice asked over a speaker. "That looked like a nasty fall."
It had been, but her powers had let her catch the force safely. Granted, it didn't do anything for her hand. Meridina glanced toward it and noticed the blackened, burned flesh from her instinctive grab of the hot wound her weapon had carved in the vehicle. "I am fine," she said simply, even if it was not at all true. She used her functioning right hand to trigger her omnitool. "Meridina to Richmond. The assassin is dead."
At the periphery of his senses, focused as they were on his desperate task, Robert could feel the worry and fear of the Gy'torans on the deck. The mountain ahead loomed close and the winds of the storm were driving the ship toward the highest point. This was going to be close. Everything depended upon him.
The weight of that alone could be crushing, but he bore it. He had to.
He did not see the mountain receding below them. He did not see the dark, open sky of the stormclouds ahead, a false safety certainly, but still better than hitting the mountain. All he felt was the golden warmth of the Flow of Life that empowered him, that connected him to the universe and made this feat possible.
It was this sense that told him he'd succeeded.
When his eyes opened, Robert started to feel a chill. His clothes were drenched with rainwater and sweat. He brought up a hand to shield his eyes from the powerful winds whipping across the deck and threatening his footing. Indeed, the ship was still swaying under his feet from the power of the wind buffeting it, and without the life line he ran the risk of falling and slipping right off the deck.
This all took time to process. Robert's head wobbled from the strain of his efforts, dulling him for the moment. That dullness kept him from reacting to the warning sense growing within.
There was a cracking sound. He turned in time to see that the increased winds and the prior damage to the ship were wrecking the main mast. It mostly collapsed in one piece at least.
But not entirely. A tangled line above caused one of the spars to disintegrate. Debris rained down on the deck, some of it small and inconsequential, and some of it quite large.
Such as the metal shard that struck the deck near the jagged remains of the mast… and severed his life line from its anchor.
He looked about for somewhere to secure the severed line. Before he could find something a wind gust blew across the deck and hit Robert with enough force that he fell over. The ship tilted in the same direction from the force of the winds against it. With the rainwater on the deck adding to the problem, he pitched toward the side of the deck. He threw his arms out to try and gain purchase, a handhold on the deck. He found one, it slipped, and then another, which slipped as well. The handholds were designed for the smaller hand and textured skin of a Gy'toran, not a human hand with human skin. The rain water left his hands too slippery to find purchase.
He did finally hit the rail and stopped for the moment. His hands gripped the rail. But the ship wasn't righting itself.
In the pilothouse, Tralmiltaram already knew why. The monitors showed that the anti-gravs on that side of the vessel had lost power, overloaded due to the unexpected strain. The entire ship was pitching and the ship was losing altitude. "Engineering, we need those anti-gravs back!"
"Acknowledged!"
Tralmiltaram braced himself with two of his limbs, holding himself to the side entrance of the pilothouse. Outside his crew were busy ensuring the lifelines were secured.
Then the ship's pitch worsened. The change in its attitude meant the wind pressed against it more strongly, which meant it twisted even more.
Robert braced himself against the rail with his arm while his feet tried and failed to find purchase. They dangled in the open air. His waterlogged sleeve and skin made keeping his grip difficult. His arm started to slip free. Below him trees and rocks loomed through the dark air of the storm, receding slowly as the Tri'kep cleared the mountain it would have otherwise crashed into. Could he land if he used his powers? Safely?
His senses made him think it highly unlikely.
But he wouldn't have a choice. His arm was starting to slip loose. He didn't know if he could hold on long enough for the ship to right itself, or help to arrive. His lifeline was curled up against the rail. He tried to focus on it. Maybe if he…
"Rob!"
Robert looked toward the stern. His eyes widened at the sight of Zack sliding down the deck, feet first, a life line tied around his ribs. It grew taunt as Zack reached the railing. His feet, bare, seemed ready to slip on the rain-slicked deck, but by crawling forward and keeping his knee braced against the base of the railing Zack was able to approach him. "Your line!" he shouted.
Robert nodded. He looked to the line and focused. He couldn't use his hands, not with his arms desperately gripping the railing with decreasing effectiveness. He relied entirely on raw focus to grip the line with his abilities. It lifted from the deck and shot over toward Zack.
Zack caught it against the deck. He wrapped the lifeline around the railing and then wormed what excess slack remained around his own, double-securing Robert's line.
At that point, Robert lost his grip on the railing and fell free.
The line went taunt. Pain shot through his torso, and given the grunt from Zack he felt the weight too. Robert wrapped his hands around the hanging line and held on.
Zack was holding his line too and started pulling. His bare hands found some traction despite the rain. He pulled with all of his might and lifted Robert up. "This would be a lot easier if you'd use your powers!" he shouted, with little effect given the howling wind.
Robert sensed what he said more than heard. "I'm not sure I can!" he shouted back. "I could end up overshooting and flying off the ship!"
"I didn't hear a damn word!" Zack grunted. The cord was biting into the skin of his hands from the strain of his gripped. "I'm not sure I can do this!"
"Cut me loose if you need to!" Robert shouted.
Zack did hear that. A defiant grin crossed his face. "Like I'm going back to tell Julia I dropped you! She'd kill me anyway!"
Through the rain Robert could make out his friend's grin. He matched it.
Crying out in effort, every muscle in his arms and chest burning, Zack pulled again and again. The remnant alcoholic haze in his head seemed to fade at the rush. Rain pelted his face and left his hair soaked, obscuring his vision. The shuddering of the ship seemed to threaten his falling from the Tri'kep should it list just another degree or two.
Regardless, he kept pulling.
Robert's hand reached the rail first. It was only as he started to brace his arm that the ship seemed to tilt again, this time back to its proper level. Zack grabbed Robert's arm and hauled him over the rail as it continued to right. Robert landed with a dull splash. The two rain-soaked men looked at each other and laughed in relief. "You could've gotten yourself killed!" Robert shouted over the wind.
"Like you almost did?!" Zack retorted. He tried to wipe the water from his eyes and failed. "At least I have an excuse!"
"Yeah?!"
To that Zack guffawed, "I'm still drunk!"
Robert's only response was to laugh. He continued to do so even when some of the deckhands arrived to escort them back below decks and out of the storm.
Julia and Commander Richmond arrived in the suites set aside for Primus Mori and Precentor-Martial Focht. They were seated with Secretary Onaran. "...disaster was at least minimized," Mori was saying. "The assassination of Prince Victor would have been a blow to the Inner Sphere."
"I concur." Onaran looked back, noticing the two officers. "Captain, Commander?"
"Commander Richmond has concluded her preliminary investigation and the Kell Hounds and planetary authorities will be taking over for her," Julia said. "From what she learned, the assassin who shot at Victor was a man named John Goddard. The weapon he used was a TR-116 with a unique modification: a miniature transporter."
"What do you mean by that?" Mori asked.
Julia glanced to Richmond. "With the appropriate sighting gear, which we found attached to the weapon, a sniper can fire through any number of obstacles and walls. The transporter attached to the weapon beams the fired projectile into point blank range of the target. The only defense is an active anti-beaming area-effect field. We were only using a standard anti-beaming field, which does not prevent beaming within the field's range, only transport in and out."
"Why one and not the other?" asked Focht.
"Because the TR-116's modifications are unique, sir. The transporter applied is a specially-made model, normal transporters cannot usually acquire and transport a moving projectile at such a velocity. As a result, the threat was not anticipated and an area of effect field deemed unnecessary due to technical and resource costs. Alliance security protocol will have to be updated now that we are aware of the possibility." Richmond frowned. "Whomever provided the specifications, they are still unknown. And the assassin's death precludes determining his source through interrogation. It is regrettable that the Kell Hound guards opened fire as they did."
"Indeed."
"If I may, Primus, Precentor-Martial?" Julia waited for them to nod before continuing. "You seemed to recognize the cyborg. Can you tell us anything?"
The two ComStar leaders exchanged glances. "This should not leave the room, although we authorize the Secretary to share this information with President Morgan and Admiral Maran only in strictest confidence," Mori said.
"Agreed," the Dorei man answered.
"Her name was Amara de Luca," Focht said. "Specifically, Adept Amara de Luca of ROM."
Julia frowned. "ROM. As in your security and intelligence agency?"
"Yes." Focht nodded. "At our order, Precentor Pardeau dispatched her three years ago to infiltrate the schismatic branch of ComStar in the Free Worlds League. They currently operate there as the Word of Blake. She missed her scheduled contact point seven months ago. And we have not heard from her since."
"Dear God," Richmond gasped. "They did that to her, didn't they? They turned her into that… thing."
"We know that the Word of Blake secured what materials existed for our cybernetic combat augmentation projects," Mori said. "But our intelligence on them remains thin."
"There are similar capabilities in other societies in the Multiverse," Julia observed. "The Coserians of N2S7, the Bynars and Choblik in S5T3, the Solarians of S0T5, to name just a few." Julia thought of the Cybermen as well, not to mention the horror of the Borg. "These Word of Blake people might have acquired further assistance from any of them."
"A sobering possibility," Onaran noted. "I will share this information with President Morgan and the Defense Staff under the strictest classification. We may have to consider upgrading threat assessments of this organization."
The remark was welcomed by the two ComStar leaders. Focht turned his attention to Julia next. "Do you have news about Lieutenant Lucero?"
"She's in stable condition in our medbay," Julia replied. "Doctor Gillam was able to remove the projectile and repair the worst damage in emergency surgery."
"She has our gratitude and wishes for her swift recovery." Focht folded his hands together in his lap. "The concern now is for the summit. The disruptions are making progress difficult. And the Clans' distrust of the Inner Sphere has only worsened by what has been displayed. I do not think any extension of the Truce of Tukkayid is feasible."
"What if you simply expanded it then?" Julia asked. When she had their attention, she said, "The Clans still sometimes raid above the line, right?"
"Not as often as we anticipated they would, but they do," Focht answered.
"Well, what if you talked them into a secondary truce that covers both sides entirely? For the duration of the war at least and sometime afterward? They're getting all the fights they want now, so their warriors are getting the advancement that was turning them against the Truce."
"A reasonable prospect," Onaran stated. "And perhaps the best that can be attained at this point."
"It has merit," Mori agreed. "We will propose it at the next meeting, once military discussions have concluded."
"Your contribution is welcome, Captain." Onaran nodded to her.
Seeing there was nothing more to be said on the matter, Julia asked, "Permission to be dismissed?"
"Granted."
In the Aurora's medbay Meridina looked over her hand. The burn damage was gone, healed by the advanced technology available to Leo and his medical team, and her presence was solely for Lucy's sake now. She lowered her hand and looked again to Lucy, who slept peacefully on a biobed in the standard care ward of the medbay. Displays showed her vital signs for the benefit of the passing nurses and doctors. They seemed to show her as in a stable condition.
Looking at Lucy, her tanned, light bronze complexion paled by blood loss and a life being spent in space, forced Meridina to think about the feelings she was dreading. The thought of Lucy's death was a horror, a real visceral one beyond the reaction Meridina knew she should have. Her brief glee at the destruction of the being who had come so close to killing Lucy worried her greatly. That was not how Meridina should act, whether or not she was in the Order. It was a potential path to darkness.
Meridina drew in a breath and focused inward for the source of it. Why would she feel that way toward that loss? The loss of a friend or associate was painful, yes, but the sheer emotion behind it, behind the mere possibility…
No. That… I… She picked at the thought as one would test a bruise or a damaged, aching tooth. This was an unexpected sensation. She could understand that she was closer to Lucy than to others on the crew, so there was reason to feel the loss more keenly, but the mere thought of Lucy being gone brought an emptiness to her. That was surprising. Lucy had been part of her life for only a few years now, only really the last thirty months (thirty Gersallian months anyway, by Human reckoning it was closer to thirty-four). In that time she had repeatedly surprised Meridina, manifesting her swevyra, showing great promise in her training, great skill in moments of danger…
And she was there for me. On Gersal. Against Goras.
She remembered the waiting room, when her combat testing against Goras was yet to be waged. Lucy kneeling with her, begging her to reconsider, so upset at Meridina's readiness to die. "Don't you know there are people who care about you? People who love you and don't want to lose you?! People who will be hurt if they no longer have you in their lives?!" It had been plainly evident that as much as Meridina's own family counted in that, Lucy had been describing her own feelings.
And now… now Meridina had them too. She knew a life without Lucy would be full of pain.
Meridina found that both frightening and exciting, and she wasn't sure which feeling was the one she should be concerned about.
It's not how it should be, Robert thought glumly, laying on his bed in a fresh set of clothes. "Life has no sense of drama sometimes," he said aloud.
That won him a bewildered look from Zack. "What?" he asked flatly, sitting bare-chested on the other bed in a fresh set of underwear and a blue towel draped over his shoulders. "You just lifted a flying cruise ship with your mind or whatever it is. And then nearly fell off in a raging storm until I caught you. That's pretty Goddamned dramatic."
"Yeah, but once it was over, that's when the storm should have ended," Robert protested. He gestured with his arm toward the window ports behind him. The dark clouds persisted outside and rain still pelted the ports. The ship was even shuddering a little under the onslaught of wind. "The sun should've pierced the clouds or something, casting golden rays…"
"This isn't a movie, Sir Robert," Zack guffawed.
After a moment of silence, both men began to roar with laughter. The real terror and fear of what had transpired on deck melted away, even with the storm still battering the damaged Tri'kep.
"Is that your new nickname for me?" asked Robert.
"Only when you try to play the hero."
"Like how you call Tom 'Teddo' whenever he gets on your nerves?"
Zack smirked at that. "Probably, yeah."
Robert nodded and sat up to face his friend. The grin remained on his face. He let out a light sigh and ran a hand through his wet hair. "Thank you, Zack. You saved my life."
"You're welcome, Rob. It's a shame you can't fly, though."
"I don't think flying is something people with our abilities can do," Robert admitted. "I mean, not like you see in comic books or something. And absorbing the impact of falling is usually not from so high up and in the middle of a storm like this." He looked to the port again. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"
"6th Grade," Zack confirmed. "We spent how long in that shelter?"
"Four hours. Without any toys or books or games." Robert shook his head. "And without Julia or Susannah to pass the time with."
"We managed it, though," Zack reminded him.
"Yeah."
Silence reigned again. Both went into thought. Zack ultimately brought his head back up. "I want to get control of this," he confessed. "You were right about that. I have to stop."
Robert nodded. "It's what I'm here for."
"I thought I could do it alone. I… I didn't want…" Zack shook his head. "Well, you know how I feel, right?"
"You don't want to be carried. You're afraid you'll end up like your Dad. The drunk the entire county seems to know about, that everyone judges or pities."
"I was already pitied. Growing up. Not by you and your family, or at least it didn't feel that way…"
"We did pity you," Robert admitted. "But Mom warned us about it. She knew you and your Mom had to have some pride."
"Your Mom was a smart woman." Zack's eyes glistened with tears. "She and my mom…"
"Yeah. She was devastated when your mom passed. I think she hated your Dad after that. She blamed him for your Mom dying so young."
"I hated him often enough for the same reason," Zack admitted. "I always thought it wasn't fair that he lived and she didn't." While tears flowed Zack shrugged. "Now I'm in his shoes. Inside." He tapped his chest. "I still want it, Rob. I want to control it, I want to stop, but in here there's a part of me that enjoys just shutting down. Drinking until there's nothing in here, nothing that hurts."
"I guess that's always going to be with you," Robert lamented. "Grandpa told me that's how it was with his uncle. The one who survived the Argonne. He lost so many friends, and he was in so much pain from his wounds, he just kept drinking as a way to deal with it. Even when he had to stop, Uncle Henry wanted a drink every day until he died."
"A drunk? In the Dale family?"
To that Robert snorted with laughter. "We weren't as perfect as you thought, Zack. No matter what your Dad may have grumbled."
"I guess so." Zack chuckled at that. "I guess I have to live with this. With the need I mean. The temptation."
"But you can get help with that. I mean, you can do it without giving up your pride. It's not like you don't have a lot to be proud of already. You're a Founder of New Liberty like the rest of us. They'll be naming schools and roads and starships for you one day."
"Not sure I deserve some of that," Zack admitted. "Not just because New Liberty was mostly you and Julia and Beth. I got drunk on patrol, Rob. If I hadn't resigned my commission they'd probably have forced me out anyway."
"Maybe, maybe not. But if we get you cleaned up, I think Maran can work with that." Robert folded his legs under him, as if about to start meditating. "If you get help you can get back to your ship."
"You're more confident than me in that." Zack shook his head. "But it really doesn't matter. I have to do something about this, especially if I'm going to deal with my other feelings. So I guess I'll go find a therapist or something and let Maran know about it."
"The best thing you can do."
"As for my feelings about Julia…" He shrugged. "I've lived for years with them. Nothing'll change either way."
"Right."
Before the conversation could continue, Robert looked to the ports. A little light was now shining over the horizon. The storm clouds were breaking. "Looks like we made it through. We should be to Ilam Tran in the morning I guess. Even though we're off-course."
"Good. And if I may, Rob?"
"What?"
"We're going back in a shuttle," Zack insisted. "Do you understand me? A shuttle. Even if I have to hotwire it. Are we clear?"
Robert's "Yes" was followed by laughter.
Ship's Log: ASV Aurora; 26 April 2643 AST. Captain Julia Andreys recording. The summit meetings are still ongoing, but today the Inner Sphere and Clans have officially expanded the Truce of Tukkayid into a general truce between both sides, encompassing all space held by either. For the first time in years there should be no significant fighting in the Inner Sphere, allowing for forces from both sides to support the offensive against the Earth of S4W8.
The signing of the truce was held back until the day's military strategy meeting ended. Julia attended with several officers. The Khans signed on behalf of the Clan Grand Council, with any Clan defying the truce now facing punishment from the others; similarly Focht, Victor, Ragnar Magnusson, Thomas Marik, and Theodore Kurita signed for the Great Houses, with a similar pledge. The terms were verified as the signatures were given; the Truce of Ark-Royal would replace the Truce of Tukkayid for the duration of hostilities with the Nazi Reich plus one year, after which it would dissolve and the Truce of Tukkayid would again be in force.
"You know, given the wording," Jarod was saying in a low voice, "one could argue the Clans just agreed to add at least a year to the Tukkayid Truce. It was supposed to last fifteen years, after all, but it's effectively been frozen until this truce ends."
"Somehow I don't think the Crusaders would agree," Julia pointed out.
As soon as the truce signing was over, a hand went up. Julia felt somewhat perturbed to see it was Katrina. She was recognized by Mori. "Before we disperse, I would like to say one thing." She turned her attention toward Julia and her colleagues. "My thanks, and the thanks of the Lyran people and indeed all of the worlds of the Federated Commonwealth, go out to the officers of the Alliance vessel Aurora for their efforts in thwarting the assassins who attempted to disrupt this historic occasion. You have saved my life and my brother's life. Our people will not forget your service."
"We humbly accept your thanks, Your Highness," Julia answered formally.
Katrina nodded and sat back down. Victor stood instead. "I too would like to formally thank you. Particularly Lieutenant Lucilla Lucero, who twice put herself in the path of a bullet meant for members of my family." He approached them after receiving a box from Cranston. "For your actions in saving my sister's life and my own, Lieutenant, I present you with the Order of Steiner-Davion." He opened the box, presenting a shield-shaped red medal with a blue-eyed Fox emblazoned on it.
Lucy accepted the box with a small blush on her cheeks. Just a faint one; it was hardly the first time she had been presented with a high honor, as the Senate Order of Merit on the left breast of her dress uniform jacket demonstrated. "Thank you, Your Highness," she replied.
"You are most welcome." Victor's gratitude was evident to all. As was, at least to the senses of Meridina and Lucy, the swell of gratitude from the viewing gallery where the elegantly-attired Omi Kurita was watching with other non-participating VIPs. "In addition to the Order, it is also customary for someone who has saved the life of the sovereign to be declared a knight. Although you are not a citizen of the Commonwealth, I am still extending the distinction to you, Dame Lucilla."
"I am honored," Lucy answered. "Does this involve the full ceremony?"
To that Victor grinned. "If you desire it."
"If it is okay with you, I am satisfied with the announcement, Highness," Lucy answered.
Victor nodded in acceptance, never losing the grin, and returned to his seat. Others in the audience murmured slightly. For some the idea of forgoing a formal knighthood ceremony was ludicrous, but there could be little surprise that someone from another universe would feel differently on the matter.
"This summit's business is concluded," remarked Primus Mori. "We are adjourned."
"Another successful mission," Jarod said to Julia. "At this rate you're going to make Admiral before you hit thirty."
"I'd be satisfied if it's before I hit forty," Julia answered. "As things are, I'm happy with my command right now."
"Ah." Jarod grinned at her. "You know the best part about this being over now?"
"What?"
"We can make the anniversary again," Jarod pointed out, still grinning.
Julia matched it. He needn't state which anniversary he meant. "I'll have to check with Maran, but yeah. Unless there's something urgent, we'll make the Founding anniversary in plenty of time." A small, sad look appeared on her face. "I hope Rob and Zack make it, at least."
Jarod nodded in agreement. "I do too."
They departed at that point. Julia found herself contemplating the last few days. The motives of a group like the Word of Blake were evident. From what she knew of the ComStar rebels, they abhorred Mori's liberalization of their order, and they were viciously opposed to the Alliance's technology-sharing programs and deals with the Inner Sphere. Breaking up the summit made sense.
But the assassin who tried to shoot Victor. The one who shot Lucy instead. Who was he? Who hired him? It irked Julia that she might never know.
A short time later, Katrina Steiner returned to her suite, frustration and anger burning inside of her. She was met by her advisor Tormano Liao. The latter, the uncle of Sun-Tzu and brother of Candace Liao of the St. Ives Compact, bowed his head in respect. "Princess, you were as majestic as always."
"It was necessary." Katrina took the best seat. "I couldn't allow anyone to say I was ungrateful. Although Victor upstaged me quite well by handing out the Order of Steiner-Davion to the Alliance woman." Damn him, she thought. You had to compound the insult, didn't you Victor? You just had to grind it in my face, the power you wield over me.
"He could hardly allow himself to seem ungrateful to the woman who saved his life," Tormano pointed out. "Although the granting of a knighthood might have gone a little too far, perhaps. Particularly with the ceremony involved turned down."
She didn't deign to indicate her grudging agreement with Tormano. Inwardly she stewed about the failure of her plan. If not for those damned metasensory types, psychics or whatever they were, Victor would be dead and she would be Archon-Princess! That someone else sent an assassin as well made the opportunity all the more appealing, if frightening given the attempt on her life. If the cyborg had gotten away she could have even used it against Victor by ensuring the right people made the right charges over the media.
And yet, despite everything, it was stopped…!
At least the assassin was dead. She didn't have to worry about that loose end.
"I worry about your brother." The voice came from the other occupant of the room. The woman, Benedita Soveral, was clad in the basic duty uniform of the Alliance Stellar Navy, a silver aiguillette on the left side of her uniform jacket marking her a staff officer and burgundy red branch trim denoting command branch, and the single gold square rank tab of a Rear Admiral on both sides of her collar. Her Mediterranean complexion contrasted with Katrina's light skin and the East Asian tone of Tormano.
Soveral's presence with Katrina's staff was one of Katrina's victories over Victor; demanding her own military liaison officer from the Allied Systems. Although Katrina had never imagined she might get such use from that victory...
"Admiral Soveral." Katrina nodded. "Whatever do you mean?"
"He is too close to the mind-readers," Soveral said. "To Robert Dale and now Lucilla Lucero. I cannot help but worry that his will and mind will become… compromised."
"I see." Katrina smiled thinly. "I appreciate your concern for my brother's mental independence. The freedom of the Federated Commonwealth is at stake…" And since I have lost my assassin, perhaps it will be your Admiral Davies who provides me the means to assume my rightful station as ruler of the Commonwealth and First Lord of a reborn Star League.
The man who had called himself John Goddard walked into the empty room aboard the small star vessel. He felt none the worse for wear for his close escape.
His backup, a human woman of dark skin clad in a blue jumpsuit, smiled at him. "Congratulations," she said. "You're dead."
"So the cloned tissues worked." He frowned. "But can that agent keep her mouth shut?"
"She is not a mercenary like yourself, Mister Thayer, or the Kell Hounds she was asked to join," the woman replied. "She knows her duty. And as for you… your new employer was impressed."
"By a failure?" John Goddard a.k.a. Noble Thayer, also once Karl Kole, was frowning. "Prince Victor didn't even get hit."
"That was never our goal. That was Princess Katherine's goal. We simply made use of it in your evaluation, and you succeeded. Congratulations." She grinned wickedly. "I hope you're ready to be rich."
Technically speaking, he was already quite well off for his prior jobs, even accounting for the funds he lost escaping from the Commonwealth. This wasn't for money. "And my employer? Do I finally get to meet them?"
The woman replied by turning and hitting a key. A circle lit up on the floor. "Step in."
The assassin did so. A system scanned him swiftly, after which a holographic figure began to appear in front of him. A Human male, Caucasian, middle-aged at least, in what looked like a metal or plastic chair. Goddard watched his new employer light a cigarette and take a single drag from it.
And that was when he met those eyes, those inhuman blue eyes, and had his first inkling of worry that he was getting in over his head.
"Good day to you, Mister… Goddard, is it now?"
"I have a lot of names," replied the man.
"So you do." The man took another drag from his cigarette. "And your ability to use them to the fullest advantage is one of the reasons I invested time and effort in your evaluation. My organization can use men of your professional ability and skill."
"And you are…?" asked the assassin.
"You can call me the Illusive Man," was the reply. "I oversee Cerberus, an organization dedicated to the cause of Humanity. And I would like to hire you."
Caterina was eating dinner alone in the Lookout. Violeta was on the bridge for an extra watch for the evening, and with all her work in the science labs done there was nothing more to do.
The look on her face undoubtedly served to lure Angel over to her. "How are you?" she asked her sister. "You look sad."
Cat forced a small grin when she faced her sister, but there was no hiding the tears in her eyes. She drew in a breath. "I guess I am."
"What's wrong, Cat?" Angel asked as she sat down, her meal in front of her. "Did you and Vee…"
"She's being reassigned," Cat said. "They're going to make her a full Lieutenant and a navigation officer on another ship. I mean, like Nick is here."
"Oh." Angel nodded. "Okay. I mean, that's good news for her I guess."
"We won't see each other any more. I mean, we'll be on different ships, probably in different universes most of the time… we can't…" Cat sniffled and shrugged. "I mean, I know some people manage it. But what if we can't make it work?"
"Well, maybe you won't." Angel reached over the table and took her sister's hand. "Relationships don't always last. But you'll at least have happy memories."
"Even if it hurts?" Cat blinked back her tears. "Is that how it is with you and Rob?"
"Pretty much," Angel admitted. "Just remember that. Whatever happens, the memories made it worth it. And maybe… well, maybe you'll find someone new."
"I don't know…" Cat shook her head. "I guess. I'll really miss her though. I'm so used to having her sleeping beside me, holding me when I… y'know, when I have bad dreams."
"You still have nightmares?" Angel asked.
"Well, yeah. Some are old. Some aren't. And Vee helps me get over them."
"Good for her. But you know, if she's not here, I always am."
Cat nodded. The smile became genuine. "Yeah, you are. I can't forget that. You're always here for me if I need it."
"What else is a big sister for?" Angel's grin turned mischievous. "Besides punching people who are mean to you?"
"Or goblins who try to stab me in the game," Cat giggled.
At that, Angel laughed.
Days after the storm that nearly crashed the Tri'kep, Robert and Zack stood at the one place Zack never thought he would ever see.
The gravestone dedicated to Clara Davis was not much larger than any of the others in the county cemetery. But it was impressive in the beautiful way it had been carved, the fine finish of the stone, and the sharp, well-crafted engraving. Clara's name was joined by her dates of birth and death, as was standard, and the epitaph "Beloved by all who knew her, may she know peace forever". An angel - clearly contributed by her family for the design - was carved near the upper corner. The other corner bore the firebird insignia of New Caprica.
Both men were wearing their Sunday best, as they would have put it in another life; dress jacket and button-down white shirts with dress ties and black trousers. Robert reached up and patted Zack on the shoulder. "Beth told me about the funeral," he said.
"She was here?"
"Clara was a volunteer of New Liberty, remember? It seemed right." Robert's smile was sad and soft. "President Roslin brought an entourage as well. Admiral Adama, Doctor Cottle, and some of the children she'd tended to in the school. Roslin and Beth announced that their governments are co-founding and co-funding a scholarship program in Clara's name, to send kids from our Earth to medical schools across the Multiverse."
"That's going to cost a lot."
"They've gotten a few donors to help out." Robert watched the tears flow freely down his friend's cheeks. "Clara made a difference out there, just as we did. She became a symbol of how much good people can do if they're just given the chance. Nobody can take that from her, ever."
"That's not what she wanted, Rob." There was a bitterness in Zack's voice. "She… she didn't go out there to be a symbol. She went out there because she thought she could do better… and because she wanted to be closer to me. All… all we were going to do was live a life on New Caprica. I was going to coach the kids in baseball and she… she'd nurse..." Zack stopped. He was sobbing too hard to continue speaking coherently.
"Yeah." Robert nodded. He kept a comforting hand on Zack's shoulder, feeling the sheer grief in his friend's heart, a component of the knot that months later still tortured Zack's very soul. "And I think that's why she's such a symbol now. She wasn't looking for it."
Zack gave no reaction to that. Robert didn't mind.
After taking a minute to get his sobbing under control returning to just the stream of tears flowing from his eyes, Zack reached into his pocket and removed a box of fine red velvet. Robert watched him open it and remove a beautiful ring set with diamonds. Zack kept the ring between his fingers and considered it. A small hollow feeling came over Robert at the realization of just what the ring was made for.
Zack put the ring back in the box and knelt at Clara's grave. "You knew how I felt about Julia," he said, "and you gave me your love anyway. I… I wish you were still here. I wish we could have had the life you wanted. You were… you were the kindest woman I've ever known, and I swear to God I would have been the husband you deserved. I would have given you the love you deserved, no matter what." Zack set the red ring box down at the base of the gravestone. "This is yours, Clara. No matter where my life goes or what happens, I'll always remember you, and you'll always have the love you deserved. Goodbye."
By the end of his final goodbye, Zack's voice was breaking. He stood up and wiped the tears from his eyes. His head turned slightly. They were just a few rows from where his parents lay. Robert felt a lump in his throat at the thought that they were also a few rows from where his parents, grandparents, and sister were laid to rest as well.
And Julia's parents. And Leo's. Cat and Angel's parents are over in the Catholic section… The thought of all of the family members he and his friends had resting in this place served as a reminder of what they had all lost and, perhaps, why none of them were ever considering coming back to Kansas.
"Do you know what I want, Rob?" Zack asked quietly.
Robert had a good idea of the answer. He still asked, "What?"
"I want a drink." Zack certainly didn't mean water. "I want to drown the pain in tequila until I stop feeling."
"I know."
"She would be mad at me for feeling this way."
"Julie or Clara?"
"Both." Zack shook his head. "I can't help it though. I… I'll always want a drink, I guess. Maybe sometimes I won't want one too much, but still…"
"I think that's how it goes, sometimes at least. But maybe not for you?"
"I'll believe it when I stop wanting a drink," Zack answered. He sighed. "We probably shouldn't keep Lennier and Druni waiting."
"Right." Robert raised his forearm and activated his omnitool. "Keyeri, we're ready."
The two had time to give the cemetery one last look before the transporter beams pulled them away.
The Keyeri made orbit quickly and was soon on its way to a station-keeping point out past the Lagrange points. In the ship's mess area Druni was eating her favored seemai snacks when Robert and Zack entered. "We will drop you off on New Liberty, then?" she asked.
"Yes," Robert said. He looked to Zack, who nodded back. "There are people there who can help him."
"I will let Lennier know to set a course, but first…" Druni set her snacks down. "While you were down there, we received a communication for you."
"Oh?" Robert's brow furrowed. "From Beth?"
"No." Druni gave him an intent look. "It was from the President of the Allied Systems. Looking to speak to you."
That prompted Zack to look at Robert too. Robert blinked. "Did he say what he wanted?"
"He would not discuss it with me, only that he needed you in Portland immediately for a meeting of great importance."
Robert sighed at that. Technically he was on extended leave until considered recovered from his coma, but if Morgan was calling, he could expect that leave to be effectively rescinded. "I suppose you'd better get a jump to L2M1 instead, then."
"I will let Lennier know." Druni stood and left the mess.
"Do you think they're giving you a new ship?" Zack asked.
"From what Maran told me? No." Robert shook his head. "Too many admirals don't want me in the command chair given my history of 'leaving my post', as they put it. And frankly, I'm fine with that. With my abilities, and what I know… I think I'm supposed to stay out of command from now on."
Zack nodded. "I guess I can see that. But if it's not a command…"
"...then what is it?" Robert finished for him. He grinned. "I guess I'll find out soon enough."
Just a few hours later, Robert was in his formal Stellar Navy duty uniform for the first time in months. Whatever the admirals who hated him felt, his rank insignia showed he was still a Captain, and it did get him nods and respectful glances as he went through the Executive Mansion in Portland. His destination, as it turned out, was a conference room, one of many.
And he wasn't the first to arrive.
The first person he saw was Admiral Maran, sitting in a chair at the end of the table looking over reports. Maran noticed him and silently nodded. Robert knew they weren't going to speak yet. That would come later. So he looked over the others present.
The first face he found in this search was a familiar one, and the person in question was already approaching him to talk. "Hey, so they did call you in for this." A smile crossed the man's face. "How have you been, Rob?"
"Getting along, Buck," Robert replied.
Buck Rogers, the time-displaced astronaut and pilot from Universe N2C5, let the smile grow while offering his hand. Robert shook it. Buck was in uniform as well, the brilliant white uniform of the Earth Directorate from his home universe. "It's good to see you again."
"Same here. How have you been doing?"
"Oh, the usual," Buck said. "Earth - my Earth - is officially part of the Alliance now, so things have quieted down a little. The Draconians are staying away for the moment."
"Hopefully it'll stay that way," remarked Robert. "The others?"
"Fine as always. Wilma's off at the front, actually, commanding our expeditionary wing flying with your fleet against the Nazi Reich. Doctor Theopolis and Twiki are still working with Doctor Huer." Buck grinned. "There's a rumor that Doctor Theopolis might get named to the Alliance Senate, along with Huer."
Robert blinked. "Really? That would be… well, history-making, certainly."
"That's right. Oh." Buck gestured to his right. "Got another mutual friend here to show you."
The man Buck led him to was in the corner. Robert recognized him immediately. "Commander Kane?"
"Major Kane now, Captain," replied Carter Kane, the former Marine troops commander of the Aurora. He was in the proper olive-colored formal uniform of the Alliance Marines. Several medals, including an Alliance Star of Valor, were visible on his uniform.
"I heard about what happened," Robert said. "They managed to grow you new arms?"
Kane smiled slightly and shook his head. "No. It would've left me off-duty for months, I wasn't sitting the war out that long." He held up his right arm. With a faint metallic whine Kane's hand folded outward, revealing the metal structure beneath the authentic-looking pseudoskin… and a weapon barrel built into the arm. "Combat prosthetics," he said. "And compatible with battle armor. I was waiting for Command to get me a unit when I got the call to see the President."
"Any idea of what's going on?" Robert asked them.
"Not a clue," said Buck. "But with all of us, there's no telling what they have in mind."
At that point the far door opened. Everyone turned and watched President Morgan walk in. Tall, well-dressed, with fine dark skin from his distant African ancestors, the President of the Allied Systems gave them all an intent look. Behind him was the President of the Senate, Senator Sriroj Thiang, a Thai woman that Robert could remember from as far back as the initial negotiations to found the Alliance. "Everyone, please be seated," he said aloud.
One by one everyone found seats at the table. Robert ended up sitting beside Kane and a purple-skinned, blue-spotted Dorei man. Glancing around the table he made out several more people of all four species of the Alliance. Some were in Alliance military uniform, a couple in member service uniforms, and others had on fine civilian suits. He noticed the red robes of a Temple Knight of the Gersallian Order of Swenya on one attendee, and the blue robes of a field knight in the same order on another. A set of purple robes that resembled a Japanese kimono were on a Dorei woman of dark teal complexion and purple spots and hair matching the color of the robes, presumably marking her as a member of one of the Dorei religious orders with the same powers he had.
"Greetings." Morgan took a seat at the head of the table. Maran was to one side of him, and Senator Sriroj on the other. Beside Maran sat General Hatcher - the head of military intelligence - and across from him was the Speaker of the Alliance Council, a brown-feathered, gray-complexioned Alakin named Freepk. "I'm sure you're all wondering why you've been called." A few murmurs of agreement came from the assembled. "Each of you represent the finest in the organizations you have trained in. At one time or another you have faced high odds against you and managed to win anyway. And ultimately, you have all shown that you possess strong senses of right and wrong and a good character. That is why I have called you today."
"When we formed the Alliance, it was with the noblest intentions," Morgan continued. "It was to be the foundation for a new interstellar, Multiversal order, where species and star systems would attain peace by mutual cooperation and security. But it's clear we have a long way to go to build that Multiverse. There are threats to us, to the way we want to do things, and they have to be met. We are already at war with one due to the machinations of another, a group that we can count on to continue to bedevil us even with our new defenses against further infiltration."
"Even some of our allies for the moment may not remain so," he continued. "While others have also looked to cooperation for interstellar security, they are not above using sabotage and espionage, even assassination, to deal with those they consider threats to their interests. They may even resort to military force if they deem it worthwhile."
"It would be nice if we could ignore such means ourselves. But it won't do us or our ideals any good if we are defeated by foes we have no defense against."
Robert frowned. What was Morgan doing? A chill came to him as he thought of what the Alliance President might be building up to, of the things he and Maran had already done in the name of protecting the Alliance. His mind flashed back to the Changeling taken prisoner in the Senate attack, turned over to be a guinea pig for Sidney Hank's researchers.
Morgan placed his hands on the table. "But neither can we embrace these methods without some kind of check on them. That is why I have brought Senate President Sriroj and Speaker Freepk to meet you as well. They will be taking a role in what we are forming here today and ensure that we keep an accounting of ourselves in this work. There will be as much transparency as we can manage."
"Transparency on what, Mister President?" asked Kane. He was frowning as well.
"On you, Major, and what I ask you to do in the name of our Alliance," Morgan answered. He looked over them. "You have all heard of the Spectres?"
"Do you mean the special operatives employed by the Citadel Council against perceived threats, sir?" asked an Alakin in the uniform of the Alakin Union Defense Force.
"Yes. Those Spectres are fully supported by the Council. They provide for them and protect them. And in return the Spectres do whatever they feel they need to in order to enforce the laws and decisions of the Council, regardless of the costs." Morgan shook his head. "Such agents can be useful, yes. Having Spectres may have helped prevent last year's Senate attack, for instance. And with the consideration and support of the Council and Senate, the Alliance will field such agents as well."
By now Robert realized what Morgan was doing. He waited for him to finish.
"The Citadel has its Spectres." Morgan's voice grew firm. "I want something more. I want beings who can do this job without giving up on what we stand for, beings who will act with a code of ethics, a morality, beyond simple expediency and brutal pragmatism, and capable of accepting the need for oversight of their actions." His eyes met each of the attending in turn, including Robert. He could sense Morgan's resolve. His need to honor the morals and ethics he held in his heart and to have those who would do the same. "So I ask you, heroes and soldiers of the Alliance, to accept my invitation to become our Alliance's answer to the Citadel's Spectres. I ask you to become Paladins."