Shatterzone, p.19
Shatterzone, page 19
Apparently, one of the lift's programmers had had a sense of humor. The synthevoice replied to his curses by telling Mason: "I'm sorry, this lift station does not proceed down that far. Please try an alternate form of transport."
"I don't know, Ulma, I just don't know."
The young woman, her face taut with concern, sat up out of the sheets and put her hand over Nichi's bare shoulders. She said nothing, but Nichi looked back at her with a feeble smile.
Upon returning from the alert, the young scout had only one thing on his mind, and that was to go see Ulma again. At first, he'd been scared by their sudden and complete intimacy — in his young life, he'd had many lovers, but none of them were as close to him as even his more casual friends. Now, here was a woman who cut through his outer shell like a slicer through a bare hull. But instead of having everything inside him pushed out into a vacuum, he felt overwhelmed by what was coming in.
Reunited, Ulma seemed to have been shaken out of her early shock as well. The intensity of the danger Nichi had bolted from her quarters into — its nearness and, yet, its uncertainty — had left her an emotional wreck. She'd plodded to her duties, only to be dismissed by her superior — during the alert, she was one of the "non-essential personnel," and she was confined to quarters. Waiting, alone, had been the worst feeling she'd ever had.
When Nichi returned, the pair were consumed in a fit of mindless passion. Unlike their exploration of each others' bodies, needs, and feelings of the night before, this was a desperate, almost painful expression of emotion. Neither enjoyed it, but both needed it. Afterward, they'd lain silent in the darkness, wondering what would happen next.
"I've never felt this way about anyone, Ulma," Nichi said, turning toward her. Ulma's smile was wan, but sincere. "Gods!" he swore, "that is so ..." he searched for the right word, the right expression.
"Cliche?" Ulma grinned this time, a little of her concern melting away.
Nichi chuckled, "Yes, mia amare, yes," he laughed. "Cliche." He laughed some more — a laughter tinged with something other than humor, but that dissolved when Ulma began to giggle as well.
She threw her long hair over her back and fiddled it deftly into a loose braid. Nichi watched her unashamedly as her naked breasts bounced pleasantly with her motion. She saw where his eyes went and smiled impishly.
"Now, now, Lieutenant; I don't think you're ready for another flight quite yet," she teased.
Nichi grinned. "Don't be too certain, amare. I may surprise you." To Nichi's own surprise, he realized this might be true.
Ulma pulled her legs into a lotus position, half covered with the sheet. Nichi squawked mockingly as she pulled the covering off of his body and the two dissolved into a quick tug-of-war over the rumpled cloth. Soon, the tug-of-war ended with both combatants lying face-to-face on the dishevelled bed. Nichi reached over and pushed a stray lock of dark hair back from Ulma's face. Her bright, dark eyes flickered at his touch and she smiled.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"What does what mean?" Nichi countered playfully.
She curled up her hand and gave the young man a mocking punch on the arm. '"Mia amare’" Nichi enjoyed hearing her mouth wrap around the foreign syllables. "For that matter, what does ‘mia eyia’ mean? I've never heard that language before. It sounds familiar, but..."
"It's a long story, mia — Ulma,” he began.
But before Nichi could continue, the door suddenly hissed open on the little room. Both lovers started and looked up, alarmed.
"Erik!" Nichi cried out. Then, realizing his position, he stood up in front of Ulma. The young woman halfsat, half-laid in bed, open-mouthed. She was uncovered almost entirely from the waist up, but neither she nor Mason seemed to notice. The older scout was breathing laboriously.
"Damn!" he swore, stumbling into the room. The door slid shut as Mason exhaled mightily. "I never thought I'd find you!" He looked into Nichi's face accusingly. "Next time you tell me your lover's name, you damn well better make sure I remember it!" He smirked at Nichi's stammering reaction.
"Erik —"
Suddenly, all three occupants of the room realized their position. The first to react was Mason, who looked from Nichi, to Ulma, and then back again. Roaring with laughter, he collapsed into the desk chair that was the only other piece of furniture in the room. He covered his face with his hand, but Nichi could tell it was more his sudden reaction that caused it than any sort of discretion.
The second to react was the younger scout, who looked down on his nakedness and realized he had been telling the truth to Ulma moments before. He yelped and then cursed, grabbing for his shorts.
Ulma was much less drastic in her reaction. She merely pulled the sheet up over her waist and let her long hair shake down over her shoulders. The knot she'd tied had not survived the tug-of-war-turned wrestling match.
After Nichi pulled on his shorts, he said, "Erik, what the hell are you doing here? And didn't anyone ever teach you how to use a doorcomm?"
Mason's laughter subsided quickly, and the older scout rubbed away mock tears. He turned back to the scene and said, "I would have thought you and your... girlfriend would know how to raise a privacy lock."
Nichi blushed, turning his tan skin dark. Ulma said, "We didn't, um, have the chance." She looked up at Nichi playfully.
Opening his mouth to respond, Mason looked over and saw Ulma's half-nudity. He raised an eyebrow and paused, but then shrugged and continued, "Well, that's that, then. Sorry I barged in, but it's important." He couldn't resist giving the hastily-dressing Nichi a brief fisheye, and the young scout blushed even darker, "I hope I didn't catch you in the middle of anything?"
"As a matter of fact —" Ulma began, but Nichi cut off her banter as he pulled his shirt over his head.
"You didn't, Erik. Ulma and I were just... talking." Nichi looked back at Ulma with an expression of fondness that became shock when he saw her bare breasts. He began to toss his flight jacket over her, but she waved it away with a curious expression on her face.
"Nitch," Mason said dryly, "if it's for my benefit, you can forget it. I spent my last leave in a Kestarian brothel."
"This isn’t a brothel!"
"I didn't say it was."
"Boys, boys," Ulma soothed, "ease up." She looked at Nichi and pulled on his flight jacket. She didn't tab it up, but it covered most of her front. "Happy?" she asked.
Nichi nodded, embarrassed yet again.
"Well," she said, shrugging her shoulders and moving the jacket around, "don't expect to get it back."
Mason's bark of laughter forestalled any argument Nichi could give.
"You are here for a reason, Lieutenant Mason?" Ulma prodded.
"Oh, yeah," Mason said. "Nichi, we got a problem." Mason went on to tell the younger man about the upcoming meeting and Jessen's hint.
"Degora! Is that woman insane?" Nichi cried out.
"What?" Ulma asked.
Mason turned to Ulma, letting the information sink into the younger scout. The redness in his face was no longer from embarrassment. "Exec Franchett. She wants the surviving scouts — I figure that means me, Nitch, and the Glahnite — Feshar — to complete NetWorld's damn 'mission.'"
Nichi swore again, and Ulma stood up, wrapping the sheet around her waist. She pushed her hair back again, but let it hang loosely.
"Mason?" she questioned, "is that the mission to go ... beyond the 'zone?"
Mason was watching Nichi, but his gaze flicked over to Ulma and he nodded, "Yeah. Franchett still wants us to do it."
"Thank God," Ulma said.
The two scouts looked at her in shock.
Chapter Twenty
Come," Franchett said into the desk comm. The door slid open silently at her command. Into the dimly lit office, a large Humanoid figure walked. The light from the hallway was cut off as the door shut behind him.
"Lt. Feshar," the Exec said pleasantly, "The time has come."
Feshar stood, waiting. Finally, Franchett continued. "We have the readings we need. The remaining Egg and Rooster scoutships' boxes' have downloaded enough of the information on the shatterzone so that we should be able to traverse it freely. You will be the first pilot to ever fly through the shatterzone and see the other side."
Waiting for a reaction both frustrated and unnerved Franchett, so she continued hastily. "I want you to be in charge of the mission. You will be the crew leader."
That got a reaction. "No."
Franchett arched her eyebrows, "No? What do you mean, 'no'?"
"I am expressing the negative, Exec. I do not intend
to lead the mission."
Franchett fought hard against the impulse to rail against the stoicism of the Glahnite. Instead, she gritted her teeth and continued, "I thought we had an understanding, Lieutenant."
"We do, Exec."
"Then —?"
"Then," Feshar explained, "I will go on the mission, and I will act in our mutual ... best interests. But I cannot lead the mission."
Franchett rubbed the back of her neck and waited for the Glahnite to continue.
"I assume you know my history? Colonel Meskin informed you?"
Franchett's eyes glittered with understanding, "Some. Not all, I wager. Meskin wasn't much help to me while he was here."
"No ... that is not the Colonel's way. Still. You see why I,” and Feshar moved for the first time since entering the room, lifting his hand to his chest, "a Fleet deserter, cannot lead a NetWorld-Fleet operation."
"But no one knows you were a deserter ... unless you told someone." Franchett frowned.
"Not I. But Lt. Adens knew. She was under orders not to say anything."
Franchett grinned wolfishly. "Then she didn't. I know Adens' type — she's a good little soldier. She wouldn't go against her precious Colonel Meskin."
"Of course. And, as the only remaining Fleet line officer, she should lead the mission," Feshar said blandly.
"What?!" Franchett stood up, slamming her palms down on the tabletop. Several lights flickered, and a quiet voice requested confirmation of an order. "No! No." she said, resetting one of the commands. Several other lights died, but others were ignored. "I will not let that Fleet bitch near this project. She tried to wreck it
once —"
"What she did, she did on Meskin's direct orders," Feshar said.
"And she'll do it again!" Franchett fumed.
Feshar waited for several seconds while the exec cooled down. After she'd negated a few more of her accidental control calls, he said, "She won't, you know." Franchett glared at him, but the blue man continued blithely, "She didn't like what she was ordered to do before, and she won't do anything like it again without orders."
"How do I know she won'tgef any orders?" Franchett asked warily. "Meskin got to her before. He could do it again."
"Where will she get orders from? Last time, we were not expecting any transmission. If he tries anything this time, we'll have him."
"I like the way you said 'we,' Feshar." He nodded slightly, and she smiled just as small. "All right. Tell Lt. Adens she's been cleared of wrong doing. I know. Meskin left some sort of record of his actions that we hadn't found 'til now." She laughed cynically, "I know. Tell her he's off on some secret Fleet mission. I like irony. Get her out of the brig and bring her here. We'll meet with the scouts together."
"What do you mean 'thank God,"' Nichi asked incredulously. Mason had turned his back to the newfound lovers, allowing them to finish dressing, but he could well imagine the look of exasperation on his young partner's face.
Ulma hurriedly shrugged a jumpsuit top over her bare torso and pulled her hair free of the turtleneck collar. It was an aquamarine top — plain, but it went well with her dark hair and light skin. She started to pull the matching pants on when Nichi grabbed her arm—lightly by the elbow—and forced her to look up
at him.
"What do you mean, Ulma?" he asked again. "How are you concerned with our mission?"
"I ..." she began, but Ulma's voice trailed off as Nichi's face continued to cloud over. Their relationship was brief for such a remarkable perception, but Ulma saw both fear and worry in the young man's eyes as he began to come to the obvious conclusion.
"Nitch," Mason's voice came gently. From behind, he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder and felt the tense muscles underneath. "Somebody has ta go — that's what we're here for."
Nichi whirled around and glared at Mason, his face reddening. Perhaps it was the pity in the older scout's voice, or the knowledge that what Mason said was absolutely true, but the color stopped seeping from behind the young scouts ears and his face went rigid. "All right, mia eyna. That is the way it is." His voice held a bitterness Mason had never heard in Nichi before. "Let's go meet with the Exec, then." With that, Nichi pushed his way past Mason and out through the automatically opening door — without a look back. Mason, startled, looked at Ulma and saw the woman was equally stunned. He nodded silently and hurried after his partner.
Nichi was already halfway to the nearest lift when Mason caught up to him at a jog. His jaw was set and his eyes forward as he walked quickly into the elevator. Mason jumped in beside him.
Gasping out the floor number, Mason breathed raggedly—and with more than a little exaggeration— as the lift started to move. He looked sideways at Nichi, but the man was still as stone.
"Gotta stop runnin', Nitch," Mason said, "I'm gettin' too old for it."
Nichi ignored him.
The door opened unexpectedly and Nichi stepped out. Mason was almost left behind, startled, but he jumped through as the doors began to close. They backtracked in mechanical consideration for the old scout, but Nichi did not. He walked briskly toward the Exec's office area.
Catching up to his partner, Mason decided he'd had enough. He grabbed Nichi and spun him around right in front of the Exec's door. Franchett's secretary looked up at the two scouts, a startled, but amused, expression on his face.
"Lissen up, Nitch," Mason barked. His face was red, and not all of it was from the brisk walking. "I'm only gonna say this once. What you an' Ulma got is great, see? But it ain't real life. You meet somebody, fall in love ... fine. But that don't slice no iridium with Fleet, NetWorld, or the Exec. You step outta line, you cross me up," and Mason wagged a finger in Nichi's startled face, "an' you'll get strung out so far you'll need a Q-drive ta get ya back. Hear me?"
Nichi's surprise dissolved, but not the way Mason had hoped. His body relaxed from tense anger to indolent sarcasm — his lip curled and the sardonic expression Mason remembered from his and Nichi's first few weeks on the shatterbase came back. He's shutting me out, Mason reflected. Nichi pulled his arm free of Mason firmly, but carelessly, and started toward the door.
Mason shrugged, Well, it's better than the alternative, he figured. Looking down at the secretary, the older scout said, "Lt. Mason and Lt. Nichi, reporting as ordered."
Triggering one of the many comm controls on his desktop, Jessen arched an eyebrow. "Go right in, Lt. Mason." The door slid open, and Mason saw Nichi start forward immediately. The older scout paused.
"Lovers' spat?" Jessen asked innocently.
Mason cocked his head to one side and grinned,
"You might say so, kid. Why? You interested?"
The secretary sat up, startled, and then looked away, pretending to busy himself at his desk. Mason laughed quietly and followed his partner inside.
For once, the Exec's office wasn't as dark as the depths of space, Mason noticed immediately. Pay your energy bill, Tessen? he thought sarcastically.
The room was remarkably bare—at least according to Mason's tastes. Perhaps, he reflected automatically, that was why Franchett always kept it so dimly lit. A large desk on a raised dais, a few folding chairs, a hardcopy cabinet and a box that was probably a small refreshment center were the only furniture and decoration in the room.
Unless, of course, one counted the occupants.
The Exec herself sat at her desk, a less-than-winning smile on her face. She'd dressed for the occasion, abandoning her normal business suit for a more attractive — if no less modest — white blouse and dark sportjacket combination. Mason couldn't see her legs, but he could imagine the long dark skirt under the desktop. No, he revised, slacks. For the life of him, Mason could not picture the Exec in a skirt.
Behind the Exec, flanking her, were the customary NetWorld security guards. Their presence here surprised Mason mildly. He had decided Franchett was one of those people who hated having "unnecessary" help around. Then Mason frowned, grimly deciding that maybe the Exec thought them necessary in this instance.
The Glahnite was present as well, and the only surprise Mason could muster at Feshar's appearance was the fact that he stood behind Lieutenant Adens. She sat, uneasily, in one of the folding chairs. Mason's eyes met hers briefly, and he was confused by the questioning look she shot him.
And Nichi was there, of course, relaxing almost arrogantly in another chair. He was, in Mason's opinion, almost daring the Exec to take offense at his conduct but, short of putting his feet on her desktop, it didn't look like he would succeed.
"Where's O'Hollan?" Mason said.
Franchett raised an eyebrow. What is this? Mason thought, a fashion statement or something? First Jessen, now her. "Lt. O'Hollan is still in sickbay, Lt. Mason. She had a bad reaction to one of the bone-bonding techniques and will be unavailable for the continuation of our mission."
Mason nodded and continued into the room. It had been pure guesswork that the summons had included all the remaining scout personnel on the base, and he was glad to see he was correct. He was tired of being singled out by the Exec, even though there was now little choice.
"First," Franchett said as Mason unfolded a chair and sat down, "I want to congratulate Lt. Mason and Lt. Nichi on their defense of the shatterbase. NetWorld, and the Consortium of Worlds, owes them a debt of gratitude." Franchett inclined her head in the direction of the two scouts, but Mason merely waited for her to continue. Nichi seemed oblivious to the attention.
