On Mars Pathfinder (The Mike Lane Stories Book 1) (34 page)

Blitowyn was ramping up to another tirade, Crequan could see it in his eyes. Crequan held up a hand towards Blitowyn and thought very calmly,
tell us House-Brother, how is it that we can use the terms of the détente to kill the human by defending ourselves?

Easy
, was Ochalz response with a plotting smile,
we scare him into attacking us directly.

Mike & Gilda

I was tired from the AtmoGen and the morning’s business. I knocked off the last three items on the Manifest, and declared the work day done. Yeah, right.

I made up a chocolate and peanut butter dinner shake and sipped it slowly as I went through a few Mission Control emails, and then a few pages of public mailbox emails. I answered about 60 of them, including seven news agency emails about the night before. Those were easy; I just directed them to the Communications Office at The Corporation. Jayden had already instructed me to handle them that way. I was happy to, this time.

I sent a longer email to my son, and then decided it was time to relax. I had another combat shower, and then made a cup of Orange Pekoe tea from the supply of tea that was as precious as the supply of coffee. I tucked the K-Bar in my waistband, and then carried the steaming cup of tea and my tablet downstairs in the L-Hab to my quarters. I sat the tea on my fold-out nightstand, and sat down on my bunk. Using the tablet’s carrying case strap, I hung it on the small clothes hook at the end of my bunk, uncoiled the charging cord to plug it in, and then opened the entertainment application. I had brought several Terabytes of TV shows, movies, and music with me. I decided to go for some total escapism, and queued up an old favourite,
Sense & Sensibility
. I leaned back on two of my pillows, grabbed a colourful afghan (which I had negotiated into my luggage), and pulled it up over my legs and stomach. I sipped a few times from my tea as I watched the unfolding story of the Dashwood ladies, formerly of Norland Park, seeking a permanent place to call home, and someone to pay for it. The irony was lost on me. My eyes grew heavy fairly quickly though, and within thirty minutes I had turned off the movie, turned out the light, and was sound asleep.

If I hadn’t been sound asleep, I would probably have seen the alerts on the tablet screen that my system was being accessed remotely. In the stress, strain, and emotional aftermath of yesterday’s attack, I had completely forgotten to check the local video feeds for footage of the craft that came to the rescue of the attacker. The recordings had sat there waiting to be reviewed and spooled up for delivery on the outgoing server. However, since I had forgotten about them, never viewed them, and no one had asked about them: they never made it to the outgoing server. Ten minutes later I was never going to view them, and would never send them to Terra.

The next morning, all evidence of the intrusion wiped from the computer systems records and screens, I obliviously went through the morning routine I was beginning to establish for myself. Hit the head, have breakfast (while reviewing the morning messages from Mission Control), review the day’s work manifest, and then get on with it.

Number one on the list was an outside job. When I had inspected supply drop #7, the one looking like the Leaning Tower of Pisa; I had ignored supply drop #3, the one that had taken blaster damage from the alien ship. Hans wanted that to be a priority for this morning, so it was item number one on the manifest. They needed to know the extent of the damage, and if the exposed contents would survive the Martian winter. Supply drop #3 was hydroponics equipment; enough for me to set up a test system to see how well it would work prior to the main colony crew arriving. I wasn’t due to set it up until the following Martian spring time.

I stood up and stretched, then rinsed out my mug. As I picked up my tablet and K-Bar and headed for the stairs, the desktop beeped. I looked over my shoulder and saw the MillChatSecure application open. I turned around, and with two steps was seated in the chair again.

User538: good morning mike, sleep well?

MARCOL1: I did, thank you. What time is it there?

User538: o’dark thirty

I chuckled.

MARCOL1: What do you want today?

User538: straight to the point. a man after my own heart

MARCOL1: Stop flirting General.

User538: ha ha.

User538: there are some things you need to know

MARCOL1: You mean like aliens might be trying to kill me? We covered that. Didn’t help.

User538: you have ray guns asshole, why didnt you have one with you?

MARCOL1: Touché

There was a pause in her response, and I started to wonder if I had gone too far with my glib comment.

User538: there is a lot that i didnt tell you. there is a lot i wont tell you. there are things, however, i need to tell you.

I thought about that a moment. The day was suddenly getting serious again. Why can’t I just have an easy day here? Just once?

MARCOL1: Okay. Go ahead. I’m all ears as it were.

User538: this system wont let me use smiley faces dammit

Another pause.

User538: i cant tell you over this. it would take too long and some of it would be lost without the face to face component

I furrowed my brow at that one, she was coming here???

User538: NO Im not coming there if thats what you were wondering.

MARCOL1: You had me going for a moment. We have secure video software here, Jayden can give you an encoder.

User538: put it in a recording? AS IF.

MARCOL1: Okay General, you got me. Tell me how you are going to impart the secret information without using chat, without using video and without coming here yourself.

User538: i am sending my representatives.

MARCOL1: Sending them?

User538: yes. two of them

It was my turn to think before typing. Good heavens, was she going to send Men In Black? Finally I typed:

MARCOL1: It won’t take them eight and a half months will it.

It was a statement. Not a question.

User538: no

MARCOL1: You’re going to make me work for this aren’t you?

User538: later today

I sat back and started to think about that, and then realized it was too much to think about. I’d think about it later. I had a more pressing concern to challenge her with.

MARCOL1: There seems to be an awful lot of people I don’t know flying around here and trying to kill me and break all my stuff. How will I know this is your person and that they are not one of the ones trying to kill me.

User538: you will know

MARCOL1: HOW??

User538: I have to go now. you better go check that supply drop 3.

The chat window greyed out and I couldn’t type anything else in it.

Frak.

I closed the application, then went down to the airlock and got suited up. Last piece being, of course, a fully charged energy weapon and two spare clips. I headed out to supply drop #3. Big Dawg followed me.

Mother & Daughters

Hlef took quick steps towards the commissary, trying to make sense of the turmoil inside her. This was maddening.
I’m the party girl, not a mommy type
, she thought to herself.
I don’t want to be tied down with just one guy and with a … a …
she stopped so suddenly Achael ran right into the back of her. Hlef caught herself but didn’t even seem to notice.

The baby was all she could see, all she could smell. She could still feel it against her. It’s breathing and it’s coos were echoing faintly in her head. Her breasts were aching where it snuggled her. She stood there not even hearing her sister.

“Hlef … Hlef … HLEF…”

Finally she looked up at Achael’s wide and concerned eyes. She didn’t have her sunglasses on, her wide dreamy blue eyes were filled with questions, and the passion and all the feelings of love she had for her sister.

Hlef gave a weak smile and said, “It’s okay sis, just going insane over here.” Then she stepped off and continued walking down the hall. “Tra-lala la-la, Insanityville, party of one, here I come.” She put on her sunglasses again, and so did Achael.

Moments later she turned through the double doors of the commissary, Achael right at her heels.

“C’mon crazy girl, let’s get a table,” Achael said with one hand on Hlef’s shoulder, propelling her gently forward.

Habit was habit though. They were in the commissary, and a promise had been made concerning pudding of the chocolate persuasion. Hlef pulled out from under Hlef’s hand and walked over to the dessert table. Then she just stood there, staring down at it. The table lay before her, devoid of chocolate pudding, devoid of chocolate anything. Well, not completely devoid. She saw a crumb that suspiciously looked like chocolate. She placed her finger on it, and put her finger to her lips. She didn’t see Achael behind her giving a panicked looked to the commissary staff. They all stood at their stations, eyes wide in fear they had missed something; eyes even wider in fear that this time Hlef might actually hurt someone. Last time she had arrived to find no chocolate she had only broken dishes. It was always a possibility one of the hybrids might snap and break heads. They were aliens after all; well, mostly aliens. They all stood there holding their breath and watching Hlef.

Hlef just stood there. She was staring down at the table, finger still resting on her lip. They were waiting for the screaming and finger pointing but she just … stood there. The few other diners sat there not knowing what the drama was, that was unfolding on either side of the serving line. They could tell something was up though. The air was filled with something that could be cut with a knife. They could see that the woman with the freakishly long arms and sunglasses looked upset.

Then it happened. Everyone heard it. The absolute last thing everyone in the room expected. Hlef let out a wracking sob of despair. She started crying, jet black tears started pouring down her cheeks, and she collapsed to her knees. Her body was wracked with soul-aching sobs of hopelessness, and she was hugging herself all the tighter.

Achael knelt down behind her, not knowing what was wrong and not caring. All she knew was that her sister was hurting, and hurting bad. It was all she needed to know for now. It wasn’t the Eben way to try to take away pain, but rather to try to lighten the pain by sharing it. She wrapped her arms around Hlef, tears forming in her own eyes, and pulled Hlef back tight against her. She would sit there with Hlef as long as she was needed. Hours, even days. She sat there holding her, the side of her head pressed against Hlef’s head, making comforting sounds. As she did so, she pulled down her sunglasses a bit and looked over them at the commissary Sergeant. The look communicated everything he needed to know.

The commissary Sergeant, Sergeant Danny Codrup, from Ohio, immediately cleared the few diners from the commissary. He then called for the facility security detail, the special one that dealt with alien issues. They arrived promptly, and he stationed them outside the commissary with instructions to admit no one, as there was an alien issue in the room. The Lieutenant in charge of the detail stuck his head in the room, saw the women in a tearful mess, and immediately shut the door again. No way in hell was he going to interfere with a couple of emotionally upset hybrids. He’d been foolish enough to do that once before, and had the scars as a reminder.

Once the room was secured from the hungry and uninformed, Sgt. Codrup looked over at his staff and with a few hand signals, had them clear out to wait in their staff lounge. He came over to the two of them and knelt beside Achael. He was late in his career, a career that had mostly been spent right here at Wright-Patterson. He had known Hlef and Achael since they were running around as adolescents.

“What can I do for you, sweetie?”

Hlef looked up at him through her sunglasses, and started crying harder.

“Okay,” he smiled, “Some tea it is then. I’ll be right back.”

Achael let Hlef cry and snuffle her nose for a few minutes more. Then when she started the chuggy
hunh-hunh-hunh
of someone coming out of a crying fit, she lifted Hlef up, and guided her to a nearby seat.

Sgt. Codrup reappeared. He had a tray with a teapot and three teacups on it. There were three teacups because he’d made a quick phone call while he was preparing the tea. In addition to a box of Kleenex tucked under his arm, he also brought some of those little packs of moist towelettes. He included a fresh hand towel so that Hlef could clean the jet black tears off her cheeks and chin. Married and divorced twice, he was wise enough to know that he didn’t need to say anything at this point. He just patted Achael on the shoulder, and then went back into the deep bowels of the kitchen area. He thought about going in the staff lounge with the others and locking the door, but valour trumped safety. He waited just out of sight, in case anything else was needed.

“Hlef?” Achael started.

Sniff, sniff, soupy snuffle, “Yes?”

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

Hlef’s face was already red, and got redder as she tried to hold back a fresh wave of tears. Achael just rubbed her back and slowly pulled her tortured sister sideways to rest her head on her shoulder. Hlef did just that, and the tears flowed again as she leaned submissively against Achael, “It was the baby,” she finally managed to say. A chugging scream of loss and grief followed the words.

Achael’s eyebrows furrowed. She took off her sunglasses, and tossed them on the table. She took Hlef’s sunglasses off as well, seeing that Hlef’s inner eyelids had slammed shut somewhere along the way, “The baby?”

Soupy-snuffle, head nod, take two Kleenex, dab at the tears, and then blowing of the nose. “Yes.”

Achael was confused. She held her sister and would hold her for eternity if necessary; but she didn’t understand what in hell the baby could have done to make Hlef cry like this, “What did the baby do?”

Soupy-snuffle, sniff, sniff, “Nothing.” New crying jag launched fresh as Hlef reached up and was now clinging to her sister. Turning her face inwards to hide it from no one that was watching, she smeared black tears all over her sister’s formerly fresh and clean Air Force blue dress blouse.

“IF YOU DON’T GET OUT OF MY FRAKING WAY NOW YOU’LL BE WALKING A FRAKING PERIMETER POST ON SHEMYA ISLAND BEFORE FRAKING DINNER TIME!! NOW FRAKING MOVE!!” and with that, the commissary doors blew open. Gilda walked in, scanned the room and walked with precision and intent over to the two girls. Momma Bear had just been roused, and she made the mental promise that only God would be able to help the hapless sonofabitch that made her daughter cry like this. She touched Achael on the shoulder as she walked behind them, and sat down on Hlef’s other side.

Hlef’s most recent crying jag increased in its intensity, she turned from Achael and latched on to Gilda, her tear and snot covered face buried in her mother’s shoulder. Gilda gave Achael a very worried questioning look which Achael replied to with hunched shoulders and an “I don’t have a fraking clue” expression on her face.

“There, there baby girl. What’s all this about?” Gilda said as one arm held Hlef tight against her, and the other started raking her fingers through Hlef’s long curly hair, the way she used to soothe her as a child.

“Oh … Mom.”

“Yes my darling, you tell Momma what’s wrong.”

“Mom …”, sniff, soupy-snuffle, soupy-snuffle, breathy
hunh-hunh-hunh
, sniff, sniff, “I want a baby and I know I’ll never have one, and I can’t stand the thought of being alone all my life, and I’m tired of not taking anything seriously, and I want someone to love me, just me, just for who I am, who I am on the inside and not because I’m some freak show they can show off and … and who really … who really … who really sees me and really, really gets me, and who just wants to hold me, and protect me and share everything with me, and fight with me and love me and … and … and ..,” sniff, sniff, blowing of the nose, sniff, “… and who wants to make a family with me,” and cue the crying jag again. Tears, soupy-snuffles, deep sniffs, breathy
hunh-hunh-hunh’s
, repeat as necessary,
ad infinitum
.

Both Achael and Gilda had wide eyes and slack jaws at that. Who was this woman, and what had she done with their daughter-slash-sister?

The crying slowly, ever so slowly, diminished. A significant portion of the Kleenex box wound up in snotty hand clenched balls on the table. At some point Sgt. Codrup came and cleared them off. As he started to do so, he first set a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on the table.

“Thank you Sergeant,” said Gilda.

He just nodded his head and cleared away the refuse. He came back, his crisp kitchen whites still making him look like he was in a poor man’s tuxedo. He poured three cups of well-steeped tea. Looking at how dark it was in the cup, he glanced at the Lieutenant General. She made the hand gesture to leave it, and he did. The next few minutes were spent coaxing Hlef back to a non-crying normal state, the job of all mothers in such situations. Human mothers that is. Eben mothers would have encouraged the crying to exercise the emotions that caused it, and most likely cried right along with her. Alas, such is the difference between the two races but a Mother’s love, human or Eben, still knows no limitations. A trait shared by every race in the known galaxy, except for the Vesna and the Lectra.

Achael pulled a teacup closer and fixed it the way Hlef liked her tea. A dollop of milk, and three teaspoons of sugar. Achael preferred hers the same as her Mom did: cream, no sugar. Gilda would always add, “Because I’m sweet enough.” Many of her associates and acquaintances, hearing this statement made with perfect seriousness, had wound up snorting hot tea out through their nose. Yes, Gilda was a bitch, but she was a funny bitch.

Neither Gilda or Achael had tried to get Hlef talking again, so far. They both knew that when she was upset, she needed processing time; and now that her emotional response had appeared to have peaked, they gave her some time to gather herself. Gilda tore open a towelette and started wiping the black stain of tears from Hlef’s cheeks and chin. Achael, having already cleaned her own tears’ black rivulets, assisted as she could. It took five packs to get it all, as there was a fair amount that had run down onto Hlef’s neck, as well as across her cheeks. Both Achael and Hlef would be throwing their blouses in the garbage, they were beyond salvation. So was Gilda’s, she would soon realize. Hlef, who sat there like a small child while her Mom cleaned her up, smiled at her with teary eyes when she was done, “I love you Mom,” and then she hugged her, bordering on a new crying jag but holding it back through a few rounds of high-pitched keening. Getting control of herself, she then turned to look at Achael, “You too Turkey,” more hugging.

“Now,” began Gilda, “can you tell me what started all this?”

With a nod of her head, resting again on Gilda’s shoulder, and some finger pulling on a piece of tattered Kleenex resting on her lap, Hlef started talking. She started talking about the baby and the effect it had on her. She told them about the baby looking at her; the smiling, the cooing, the snuggling, and the warmth of the little bundle. She told them how it flashed in her eyes what having a family of her own could be like; flashbacks to her childhood visits to Sapro. She talked about the family she had lived with there for two years, and then again when she returned as a teenager. She told them about the emptiness she suddenly felt inside, and how she was tired of trying to fill that void, she now realized, with diversion.

As she listened to this, Gilda was churning inside. She had expected something like this from Achael, not Hlef. Gilda understood very much what Hlef was going through. She was also smart enough to know that there was much more, much deeper, that she didn’t and couldn’t understand. The hybrids were far more Eben on the inside, in their psychological make-up, than they appeared to be on the outside. The urge to have a family, the urge to nest in an Eben, was stronger than the desire for self-preservation. Gilda herself had spent several years on Sapro, and knew through firsthand observation what the Eben familial bond was like. The only single Eben were children and elderly widows/widowers; and even they were very, very few. The Eben drive and instinct for family came earlier in the True-Blood adults; but again, in the True-Blood eyes, the forty-something hybrid girls were still only adolescents. Gilda knew now that one of them had the onset of the
fiat familias supremus
instinct kick in, the other sibs would be likely to start having it as well.