Home for the Holidays1
by Christine W. Murphy
Captain Petronia Revis stormed down the corridor, weapon in hand. No one was going to get killed, not on her station. Unless, of course, she was the one doing the shooting.
The best way to avoid fatalities was to confront this pirate herself. If she left it to the guards, some sniveling little space rat would get in the way and take her next promotion down with him. She would be the first female Colonel in the New Alliance Fleet. It was just a matter of time, hard work, and good decision-making.
Shoot or talk. The correct course of action would become clear when she saw the intruder.
Zenus’s path intersected hers. Her second-in-command grabbed her elbow to keep her from flying into the bulkhead. He was a bruiser and not too bright. The only excuse she could see for his making second lieutenant was a shortage of men, a situation she’d used to her best advantage. If they were stupid enough to keep killing each other in the borderlands, she was smart enough to jump into the breach.
She breathed from her diaphragm to add depth to her voice. “Have you blocked the exits?”
“Yes, sir, but-”
“When we get there, wait and keep security out of it.”
“We haven’t cleared civilians. Regs say-”
“I’m the regs around here, Zenus. Got it?”
Zenus swallowed hard and nodded. After three months, she’d finally convinced him that she was the commanding officer. He’d compensated by designating himself her permanent second-guesser.
The crowd that blocked the cafeteria entrance parted when they rounded the corner. The guard posted at the door didn’t take his eyes off her activated weapon. “We shut off the entrance, sir, but don’t think anyone inside suspects. The mess closes this time of day when the kitchen runs out of food.”
Revis glanced at the crowd outside the circle of security guards. Slackers who’d waited until the last minute for breakfast. Maybe next time they’d get their butts out of bed on time.
Petronia tucked her weapon into her pants and straightened her open jacket. “There’s nothing to see here, folks. I want this hall cleared.”
Zenus grabbed her arm before she could slip through the door. “You shouldn’t go in unaccompanied, sir.”
She almost snapped an automatic negative before common sense kicked in. The sight of Zenus would make a sensible man think twice before making a move, and it didn’t cost her anything to let him win a round now and again. As long as he didn’t entertain ideas about getting himself promoted over her head.
When she nodded, a grin split Zenus’s square, gray face.
The cafeteria appeared normal when they entered, shoulder-to-shoulder. The table decorations were the first sign she’d seen of the impending winter festivities. Foolish business considering they were on a space station with climate controls set to an overindulgent 18 degrees centigrade.
“So where is this supposed space pirate?” she asked.
“He’s never been charged with piracy, not exactly-”
“When I want a list of the slime’s sins, Zenus, I’ll ask. We’ll inspect his ship and if we find any reason to hold him, we will. If not, we’ll stall him until the sector security gets here.”
“Marty said he was sitting back by the kitchen.” Zenus blanched a shade that was pale, even for him.
Revis followed his gaze and recognized her second’s mistake. He’d posted guards at the three exits to the room, but not at the door to the kitchen. Probably because it had no authorized egress. Just garbage drops, laundry chutes and a half-dozen other ways to slip into the three-mile-long, one-mile-wide station.
The pirate’s ship was only a couple hundred meters away. If she didn’t move fast, she’d lose him, and that was a bobble she couldn’t afford on her record.
“There he is.” Zenus pointed to a crowded corner at the back of the room.
Zenus had a height advantage. Revis saw a tapestry of orange and blue jumpsuits crowned by youthful, bobbing heads. Half sat or knelt on tables instead of chairs.
Sector security hadn’t provided holos of the target but the preliminary report stated white hair, the only out-of-the-ordinary detail for a standard geo-earth, third-stage, anglo male. A patch of white gleamed amid the colorful sea of space rats.
She slapped an arm against Zenus’s massive chest to check his charge. “We move slow and together. Leave the talking to me.”
The rats didn’t scatter as they usually did when she approached. If they were hostages, they were the cheeriest prisoners she’d ever seen. “Children, it’s time for you to return to your stations. The work day has started.”
Groans sounded around her, but no one moved. The patch of white revealed itself to be a head of hair. The man beneath it rose suddenly. She reached under her jacket for her weapon.
The stranger’s eyes twinkled as if he were trying to share some enormous joke. A few centimeters taller than her, the man stood a full head shorter than Zenus.
”You really shouldn’t have, Captain.”
Revis looked at the pirate with what she knew had to be a blank stare. She’d prepared for belligerence, anger, even violence, but not for nonsensical statements.
“The Winterfest present under your jacket,” he said with a nod toward her right hand. “You should save it for when we can exchange gifts in private.”
When he smiled, tiny lines sprouted around his blue eyes, which gleamed in contrast to his colorless hair and pale skin. Unlike Zenus, this man spent some time in simulated light. His skin held a blush around the cheeks.
The children eyed her, still ignoring orders to return to their workstations. His warning clearly meant not to draw her weapon. Whatever his motives, his suggestion was wise. No reason to worry the space rats. They would tell their parents, who’d lose valuable time discussing what was none of their business.
Besides, this supposed space pirate looked harmless enough. Of average build, he was no moving mountain like Zenus, but the muscles on his bare forearms gave some indication that he performed manual labor. His white hair certainly set him apart. It hung long and free over his shoulders and down his back.
She was usually good at this, but she couldn’t guess his age. The lines on his face indicated the passage of time, but his easy smile and vivid eyes said otherwise.
The blinking light on her wrist flashed a reassuring green; he wasn’t armed. His blue shipping suit was skin tight, no place to conceal anything low-tech enough to pass her screen, and Zenus could protect her from a physical attack. Revis eased her hand out of her jacket.
The pirate thrust his open palm toward her. Revis glanced at the kitchen door. He wasn’t likely to bolt if she was shaking his hand. Instead of a regulation handclasp, he folded both hands around hers. His smile softened.
Revis took a deep breath. “Children, you can go now.”
Another groan sounded. The children seemed content to spend the entire day at his table.
The pirate looked away, almost shyly. “I know you’re disappointed.”
His voice gave her no clues to the man’s age. It was almost musical the way his sentences ended in a laugh, but his speech patterns weren’t regulation technospeak. More like something spoken by a character out of a fairy tale.
”But if you don’t do as the Captain says, how do you expect to find presents on Winterfest morn?”
Revis grimaced at the mention of Winterfest. Reality never measured up to her mother’s stories of life before the Third-Wave. She and her sisters had gathered around a tattered quilt painted with faded images instead of the real thing. Her mother’s attempt, Revis supposed, to recapture her lost childhood, spent on an agro-planet where real trees and Winterfest celebrations were taken for granted.
With a throat-clearing cough, Revis dismissed latent sympathies for the children who surrounded them. They would have full stomachs and whatever gifts their parents had managed to include in their weight allotment.
“Go on.” The pirate waved his hands. When the children scattered, he laughed. “They do become a handful this time of year, don’t they?”
Revis eased her hand from his and placed it once again on the butt of her weapon.
“Join me, Captain?” The pirate pulled out the nearest chair. “Lieutenant Zenus is welcome too, of course. I have credits to share. Eating freshly prepared food is a pleasure I indulge in when not traveling. Prefab becomes tiresome and company improves the feast, don’t you agree?”
Maybe he didn’t realize they recognized him. That would give her the advantage. But he knew Zenus’s name, which meant he might have planned this visit.
“Zenus,” she said, while watching their unauthorized visitor, “you may resume your duties while I speak with our guest.”
Zenus glanced at his men, still stationed at the exits. “Regular duties?”
She managed to swear under her breath and not directly at the man. “Keep things as they are for now. I’ll be in touch.”
Zenus backed away, shooing children from the room. When he reached the front exit, he bent to listen to a whispering guard and gave her the signal. Security had failed to break into the pirate’s vessel, which meant they wouldn’t get in without his invitation.
Her white-haired guest remained standing, looking wistfully at his plate. She didn’t catch on until he moved one of the empty chairs again. He was waiting for her to sit.
“I’ve come a long way to see you. Please share my food, Pet.”
Revis sat slowly, the entire station slipping away beneath her. “How do you know my name?”
“The children told me. You are Captain Petronia Revis, aren’t you?” He pushed a tray containing what appeared to be the remains of several dozen almond crisps toward her. No wonder the children had flocked to him. He must have bought a week’s supply.
“Of course… it’s…” She took a deep breath. “It’s just that no one has called me that in a long time.”
“It’s an endearment a mother would use.”
“Yes, she did…” Petronia shook herself. Maybe this pirate wasn’t just a smuggler, a thief, and a kidnapper. Maybe he ensnared his victims with thought control. He’d certainly held the children enthralled. Here she was talking with the man when she should be demanding an explanation for his actions and for his presence on her station.
“That’s why I’m here,” he said. “Your mother—”
“Is none of your business. Who and what you are is mine.” She would gain control of this conversation and the situation now. One false move and this guy would end up on his ass in the brig. She didn’t care if she didn’t have jurisdiction.
He looked properly chastened, not at all like a space pirate. Come to think of it, she wouldn’t expect to find a pirate playing with children, but maybe that was why he was here. He planned to hurt the children. A knot slowed her cautious swallow.
His polite smile remained in place. “Of course. You want to know what I’m doing on your station. A sensible precaution, Pet.”
“Don’t call me that. It’s not appropriate.”
For the first time, his smile faded to nothing. “So formal, Captain? I’m not going to bite you.”
“I don’t know what you’re going to do, fella. I think we should keep to proper names. How do you wish to be addressed?”
Now he was frowning. More than frowning. A few moments ago, the man couldn’t have looked more at ease and self-confident. Now, he wrapped his arms around his chest and stared at the ceiling. “Would you like to visit my ship? That’s why you’re here, aren’t you? You want to inspect my cargo?”
Petronia almost crowed in triumph. However she’d done it, she’d managed what sector security had been trying to do ever since this guy arrived in their corner of the galaxy five years ago. At least that was the first time a patrol reported him for illegal activities. Delivering contraband to some mining colony the preliminary report had said.
The only thing that marred her blissful daydreams of accolades and promotion was the distressed look on her still unnamed bandit.
* * *
When he first arrived eight days ago, the station had appeared quite beautiful, an enormous cylinder that sprouted arms, covered with twinkling lights. He’d jumped in behind, trailing several miles, while the station followed its preset path.
For hours he followed those magic lights, wanting nothing more than to experience the warm joy that filled him. Then, as always happened, the vague impulses that guided his existence transformed into urgent need. Someone else’s need.
Someone on this space station required his help.
Those first few moments onboard, he’d truly believed the children needed him. Now, days later, he was no longer certain.
For the eighth time, he formally invited the Captain to board his vessel. “I have enjoyed the hospitality of your station, please allow me to offer those of my humble abode.”
When she stepped past him, his attention strayed to the porthole view. The station didn’t look as pretty from the dock that held his ship as it had from space, but unlike the station, the appearance Captain Petrovia Revis improved under close examination.
Her straight black hair, pulled severely back in a bun, had loosened as the days passed. Snapping brown eyes softened when she no longer eyed him with apprehension. Even her body, hard and compact, seemed less forbidding the more time they spent together.
When he stared at her or arranged his movements to ensure an accidental touch, she rewarded him with a blush. If only he could attract her interest as something other than a subject in need of scrutiny.
This afternoon, as she had the seven previous, she interrogated him. The process had an obvious pattern, most of which he sincerely enjoyed. First, she softened him up with breakfast on the station and then sent him sightseeing with one of her assistants. To date she’d never failed to appear following lunch, and then, after he spent the afternoon playing with the children, she summoned him to his ship.
This was the part he didn’t like.
“What else would you like to see?” He stared out the porthole at the gray, pocked surface of the station. He felt uneasy under her examining stare, but most adults made him feel that way. His memory stretched only five years into the past. Only when alone or in the presence of children did that fact not bother him.
Every day for the past seven was the same. Pet asked questions to which he had no answers. Eventually, he manufactured them, but he wasn’t comfortable with lies. He wrote in his diary every night so he would have something to show her. Nonsense mostly, readings from panels he only vaguely understood, observations from his time with the station’s children.
“I’d like to start with your ship’s log,” she said.
He suppressed a sigh. He lived for the moment when she tired of games and they returned to the station for the evening meal. When they left, he would lock his vessel, as allowed until she could produce a boarding order. He didn’t want her wandering about unattended. She might find what she was looking for. Then she wouldn’t have any reason to question him.
An uncomfortable truth. He wanted her to stay, and was willing to put up with her awkward interrogation to make it so. Nights he spent onboard his vessel alone.
Why she wished to delay a departure that he had no intention of making, was plain. She was waiting for sector security. He might be an amnesiac, but he wasn’t stupid.
But why was he staying? Was she the reason he’d been sent? Or was that what he told himself after he spent another sleepless night thinking of her instead of leaving.
“Your ship’s log,” she prompted, evidently impatient with his straying attention.
“I don’t keep a log.” He braced himself for the coming barrage of questions.
Captain Revis stared at him as if he was crazy. She was probably right. “Why not?”
“Why should I?” He carefully closed the cream-white pages of his diary. Captain Revis had exclaimed over the extravagance of it-paper he stained permanently with ink instead of an electronic pad he could clear and use again.
“You keep a log because of regulations.” Captain Revis crossed her arms over her chest.
He recognized the protective gesture. The concerns of the Third-Wave still inhabited peoples’ subconscious, even if they didn’t recognize the fact. Society valued women too highly as bearers of children to risk them in war. Captain Revis fought her own battle, her status as an equal among men. She wasn’t doing what her culture required of her; she was swimming upstream. Perhaps this was what they had in common. Both were considered crazy by some.
Feeling examined again, he shrugged, uncertain what to do next. “I know of no regulations other than my own.”
He pulled a worn but comfortable chair away from the bulkhead. She remained standing, looking into every corner as if expecting to find wild creatures waiting there. She looked at him the same way. He tugged at his suit collar.
“Don’t you keep any records, except for your little book?” Her questions had an extra bite today, as if she’d finally lost patience with him. “How long have you been in the sector?”
His face flushed. For the first time since arriving on the station, he felt uncomfortably warm. Did she want him to leave? “In this sector? I don’t remember.”
“What is your cargo? What is your destination?” She snapped her questions now, her boot tapping an impatient rhythm on the deck.
He gulped air. He hated making her angry. She always became agitated toward the end, but she never seemed this extreme before. He had to be patient. Soon she would give up.
“Cargo…this and that. Destination…nowhere in particular.” He didn’t bother to elaborate. He’d long given up anyone believing his story.
“Who are your contacts on the station? Why are you here?”
“I’m not certain. You.” Certainly filled his chest, directed his heart, leaving only partial understanding in his head.
Captain Revis wanted something. No, she needed something. Something all the promotions she’d ever earn would never achieve. Her bleak, empty life lay out before him. He wanted to weep.
Her frown deepened and she clasped her arms more tightly, protecting herself. “What is your name?”
He couldn’t bear to see her look so unhappy. “You don’t have to worry about me. I haven’t come to cause you any trouble. I’ve just been on my own for several months. It was time to put in for a maintenance check.”
“We’re hardly a repair facility, but it looks like you arrived in the nick of time. This place is falling apart.” She gave the bulkhead an irreverent kick. Her metal boot sent rattles echoing through the ship in a way no space-worthy vessel should allow.
The reverberation traveled through his boots and up his back. Something shook loose. “Nick.”
“Pardon me?” She didn’t look up but continued to run her hand along the seam of the air lock.
“I think my name is Nick. It sounds familiar.” Nikki? Nickolai? Silently, he tried them on his tongue. Nicholas sounded right. Was that his last name?
“Fine, Nick then. If you come up with an I-dent number to go with that, you let me know.” She was tiring. The sarcasm wasn’t as thick in her voice as it had been a few moments ago. “How old is this bucket of junk, anyway? Some of this stuff looks like it dates back before the Third Wave.”
“Before the second.” He opened his mouth to change his answer. Before the First Wave, surely, but that sounded even more ridiculous than his first guess.
She shook her head. She didn’t believe a word and why should she? He knew how crazy he sounded. Sometimes, in some outpost bar or planet-side cafe, he’d talk to a seemingly sympathetic soul, only to realize they thought he was insane.
“That’s impossible.” She turned on her heel.
What happened next was his fault. The chair didn’t belong in the middle of the room. He never had caught on to the proper way to run a ship. Everything with a place, and everything in it, or something like that.
When he caught her, he was surprised at how light she was. She looked more than surprised; she looked stunned. Captain Revis didn’t stumble often and she’d never before taken a fall. She held tight to his neck for a moment.
He knew she’d pull away, insist he put her down, but he wanted this moment to last.
Somehow it did.
With her close in his arms, he saw the fine details of her eyes. Brown, he’d noticed the instant they met. Now, he saw each iris, circled in black with lighter bursts, almost golden, toward the centers. Time stood still while he smelled her hair. The scent of the forest filled his head. Impossible. Her lips were a deep rose, a natural darkening of her dusky brown skin. He almost kissed her before he came to his senses.
“What happened?” She swayed on her feet when he lowered her to the deck. Then she grabbed hold of him again.
Had he ever held a woman before? Had he ever made love? His body told him yes, but he couldn’t remember. That might be unnecessary. He’d done so many things these the past five years that he didn’t remember doing before. Maybe making love was like recalibrating proximity sensors. He’d know what to do if the need arose.
“You tripped on the chair. It was my fault.”
She nodded, then sat. “So, when you’re through not keeping records and not plotting courses to predetermined destinations you haven’t planned, what exactly do you do?”
Her question was unusually polite. Before, she’d barked her questions, now she looked stunned and a little lost, and perhaps, interested in his answers.
“I make things.” It was the best he could come up with and, for once, the truth. “I enjoy reading,” he offered, hoping added information would please her.
She smiled at that and immediately he felt cheerier.
“It gets lonely during the long stretches between stops, but I go over in my mind what I’ve seen and done. I make plans for what I might need at my next stop; although, I never seem to have a clear enough vision beforehand to prepare exactly.
“Your station, for instance. I was thinking the children might need help celebrating the holidays. That’s the way with new research stations, generally. The crew has been here less than a year, so only the youngest ones won’t be missing life at home. So much left behind and their parents made all the choices. They may have been the right choices, but when you’re not the one who makes them…”
He recognized that look. She thought he was totally, completely insane. He turned away and grabbed the nearest thing at hand-a leather strap he would use to make a pull-toy. He secured his hair behind his neck with the bit of leather.
She must think he looked uncivilized. The security guards and Zenus had short, regulation haircuts and impossible-to-wrinkle uniforms. His clothes, except for the jumpsuits he wore to make repairs, were baggy and comfortable, and none of them regulation colors.
What would it be like to dress and act like everyone else? To have a position, a schedule, responsibilities? Was such a thing possible for him? He’d never tried. Maybe Captain Revis’ fate wasn’t the one he should weep over, but his own.
She stood and straightened her shoulders. “I want you to allow my men to inspect your ship. Make certain it’s safe to launch.”
What to answer? She could force him, but he’d seen the infirmary. They didn’t have facilities to chemically compel him to reveal his entrance codes. Torture would certainly work. Nick didn’t imagine he’d resist long, but the process would upset her, he hoped. No, he couldn’t let her torture him.
Besides, Nick had no idea what he was hiding. Maybe they could find out together. It was his duty to stay with Petrovia until her need was revealed to him, even if he didn’t know who issued his orders.
“How long will this inspection take?” he asked.
Captain Revis glanced at his clock, which she’d synched to station time over his protests. Keeping the clock on its own time was important for some reason he’d forgotten. “It’s almost time for supper. I can order the inspection for tonight and present you with repair estimates by noon tomorrow.”
She was stalling. Her people would have his ship stripped and sterilized before he finished dessert. If he waited until sector security arrived, they wouldn’t ask polite questions. If he ran, they’d demand to board, blow him out of the sky if he refused. At least they’d try.
He stalled, too, fishing his heavy boots from under the table. They’d have to leave soon to make the last serving in the station mess, and the hard decks of the station, in contrast to the resilient floor of his ship, hurt his feet.
She put her hand on his shoulder. The first time she’d voluntarily touched him. He wouldn’t sleep tonight.
“You don’t have to give them all your security codes. Just enough for them to do their work.” Then she said something that made it impossible for him to refuse. “We can eat in my quarters. Guest rooms are next to mine. You can sleep onboard.”
* * *
How in blazes had sector security missed them? Twice! They had to be complete morons to miss-navigate to the extent of being unable to locate them. It wasn’t as if the Akthena was hiding. The space station trailed blaring location buoys.
At least they’d sent the promised details about her uninvited guest. Solving the riddle of this mysterious space pirate might not win her added promotion points, but she wanted to do more than just turn him over to the authorities. He was a mystery, and not only to her. After living in Nick’s back pocket for the past eight days, she was beginning to suspect he was a mystery to himself as well.
She hid her irritation while she skimmed the report, but Nick glanced anxiously in her direction as he matched her steps toward her quarters. He had a nasty knack of guessing what was on her mind. Tonight, after dinner, she’d read what sector security knew.
Nick hesitated outside her door.
“I ordered supper served here tonight.” She slapped her hand on the release.
Once inside, Nick perused the contents of her outer room while she hung up her jacket and sidearm. She would have felt uncomfortable about Nick’s seeming indifference to her privacy, but she had nothing to hide, not in this room. No two people could be more diametrically opposed when it came to personal space. Her room was stoically official. Nick’s ship was quaint to the point of being nonfunctional. If it had any sinister aspect, she’d missed it entirely.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked.
The question should have been hers, but Nick was the one who stood leaning against the bulkhead, arms crossed over his chest, a lazy smile curling his lips. His hair, haphazardly secured, was beginning to come loose. Petrovia hastily ran her hands over her tightly pulled bun. Several strands had come loose from the clip that held her shoulder-length hair off her neck. She yanked the clip free and tossed it on her bed.
Even Nick’s clothes looked relaxed. Not at all like her crisply turned-out, navy blue uniforms or the immaculate white jumpers the technical staff wore. Nick wore brown pants and a brilliant blue, shiny shirt. He looked as if he belonged on a holiday poster.
She knew his pants were soft. Velvet was the word that came to mind, although she had no experience with the fabric. When she’d tripped earlier, one arm had involuntarily circled his waist, brushing him. The contact had been accidental at first. Her other hand had rested against his chest to keep him at a distance.
Silk, yes, silk was how his shirt felt. Another word that meant little, except for a shiny patch on one of her mother’s old quilts. She wanted to feel him again.
The realization shook her. Then she forced herself to relax. They were in her quarters. Her door locked. Everyone needed a private life. She took the security report to her desk and scanned the face of the reading pad. A couple of import violations. Easy enough to overlook considering the unusual regulations on some of the outer colonies. An illegal docking. Not surprising; he’d linked up with the Akthena without a simple please.
Nick crossed to the door. “If you’re busy, I can return to my ship.”
Petrova shoved the pad into her desk and slapped it closed. Funny how this particular duty felt illicit now that she knew Nick.
His smile softened. “I don’t wish to be a disruption.”
A disruption? That’s exactly what Nick was. For eight days, she’d followed only the barest skeleton of her daily routine. Even when she managed to stand full watches, her attention continually strayed to thoughts of Nick.
His smile disappeared when she didn’t answer. “Perhaps your wish is that I not be in your quarters or on my ship.”
She wanted to bring his smile back. “Don’t be foolish. I wouldn’t have asked you here if you weren’t welcome. I just need to unwind. It’s been a long day.”
That was the truth, at least. She usually ate the evening meal tucked in her bed reading second watch reports. She gave her doublewide sleeper a wistful glance.
When she looked up, Nick was blushing. Bedroom and office all in one was an efficient arrangement, but not the most suitable for entertaining men, especially not a man she needed to keep at a distance.
“Then that’s what you should do. Relax.” Nick turned away and began uncovering their meal.
Watching him prepare the table finally spurred her into action. She was the host. Their hands collided over the tureen lid.
“I’m sorry.” They spoke the words together, straightening to face each other.
His hands found hers first. Her arms rose to maintain the contact, palm to palm, their hands upright between then. Then it happened.
The kiss.
Or not.
She cried at the suddenness of it. But it was so brief and he hadn’t moved.
She closed her eyes and the pressure against her mouth increased. Something brushed her cheek. She jerked away and opened her eyes again.
Nick stood in front of her, looking quite stricken, as if he’d crumpled his ship against a space dock bumper and hadn’t enough credits to make repairs.
He swallowed hard. “I have to leave.”
“But you haven’t eaten. You can’t go.” Words spoken by someone else, surely, not by the ever official and efficient Captain. Let him go. Get back to reading your reports. “Please stay.”
His right hand left hers to stroke her cheek. “This is Winterfest eve, and I promised the children gifts. I don’t want to disappoint them. I won’t get in the way of your people. They can continue to search my ship.”
Damn, he thought she was trying to stall him, her only concern to keep him away from his ship until the inspection was complete. When she swallowed, her throat burned. “That’s not what I meant.”
His blue eyes deepened. His hand dropped to her side and pulled her close. “What did you mean?”
What did she mean? He was a fugitive at worse. At best, a feckless vagabond. If security didn’t arrive to drag him off soon, he’d leave on his own. He’d come to re-supply his ship and share Winterfest with the children. The thought made her smile. For a man who traveled space alone, he had a finely tuned sense of community. He should find a place to settle and make a home for himself.
Maybe he could stay here. It wouldn’t be a career-enhancing move, but instead of turning Nick over to sector security, she could see about having the charges dropped. None of them appeared serious.
“I mean you can go or come as you wish. Within station regulations,” she added. “I’m not forcing you to stay in my quarters.”
His brow wrinkled and he removed his hand. She wasn’t saying this right.
“You must be hungry,” she ended, lamely.
“I am gratified that you wish to share my company. I will take you up on your offer of quarters on station for the night. It will make things easier. Perhaps after I’ve made my preparations for the children and you’ve finished with your reports…”
Then he was gone, leaving her with the feeling that he’d kissed her again, but so quickly she hadn’t noticed. She pressed a finger pressed against to her lips, warm and moist.
* * *
The clang of heavy boots on the deck roused Nick. He struggled to wake, always a difficult task on Winterfest morn.
“I demand to know who you are and what you are doing on my station.”
He closed his eyes again when the lights came on full strength.
“I want to know now, and no more stories about how you don’t remember.”
Nick didn’t realize he was standing until the cold penetrated his bare feet.
“And put something on.”
That finally pried his eyes open. He looked down to find his clothes in a jumble on the floor beside the bed. When he raised his eyes, Pet was glaring at him. She didn’t look away while he covered his body with a sheet.
The warm feelings of the long night before fled and left him shivering.
“You have quite a scam going here. What I haven’t figured out is what’s in it for you.”
Nick winced at her words. He needed more sleep before he’d feel right again. “If this is your new interrogation technique, Pet, I’m not amused. Let’s have breakfast; then we can talk.”
“I want explanations now.”
As he braced himself for the next question, he remembered he had at least one answer. Nick was a good name, it sounded right. “My name is Nick.”
She scowled. “Reports from sector security are varied. Too varied. Almost like you’re two people. Or like what you do pleases some people and really ticks off the others. How do you manage to do that, Nick?”
“You can’t hold me responsible for others’ opinions of me. When I arrived here, I was told the captain of this station was a…well, a…a…cool woman. Last night you proved them quite wrong.”
Very wrong, indeed. Last night she’d almost kept him from his duty, and for what? The chance to kiss her again while he stopped the passing of the minutes. Would she have returned his kisses if he’d given her the chance?
“This isn’t about me, Nick, and it isn’t about us. It’s about you and what you did with a transport full of prisoners.”
Less angry now, she looked worried. Worried about him or her reputation?
A shipload of prisoners. He pressed his palm against his forehead. Maybe he could remember with the proper motivation. He didn’t want Pet to hate him. He didn’t want to think she had reason to.
“I remember a ship. It was fairly large-”
“A cruiser-class merchant bound for Agathocles.”
“That’s why I had to stop it. They were taking the boys to Agathocles.”
“The report says the male prisoners were found guilty of a variety of crimes against society. Drug dealing, smuggling, prostitution, vandalism. They were being transported to a school for-”
“It’s a horrible place. Men die there; they were only boys. They didn’t deserve that.”
“How did you know?” she pleaded. She sat now, facing him, while he stood in front of her, as if on trial. She wanted to believe him. He had to find the right words.
He swallowed hard; the words she wanted to hear would not come. He had to tell her the truth. “Their mothers told me. They called to me in the night. Mothers with wishes for their children.”
The pleading in her eyes died. Her mouth hardened. “Where are they now? Where did you take them?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Don’t remember or don’t trust me with the information.”
“Does it matter which, Pet? Does it really matter?”
“To me it does. If this place is what you say, then the officials were probably tricked into sending juveniles there. And stop calling me Pet.”
She stood again, her feet spaced wide apart, her fists on her hips. “Tell me now. Don’t think about it. Where are you from?”
“Heat. The sun is very bright. Sand. I’m standing on sand.”
It worked. It really worked. He remembered something. Too bad it took having Pet glower at him as if she wanted to shoot him out an air lock protected by nothing more than the bed sheet.
Her stance loosened a bit. Her next words came more softly. “Teltos? Orgon?”
“No, I remember one sun, one moon. Teltos a binary star, Orgon has two moons.”
“What else?”
“I see horses running, birds flying. It’s a very pleasant place. The buildings are small. No more than one or two stories. Made from mud bricks.”
“That’s silly, Nick. Even the most primitive colonies bring prefabs for initial landings.”
Pet’s eyes narrowed and Nick felt like a bug on her plate.
“When was this? When were you born?” she asked.
She wasn’t going to like his answer. “Do you remember what you said about my ship looking like it came from before the Third Wave?”
“You said before the Second Wave, which was ridiculous. First Wave of colonists left earth over ten thousand years ago, Nick. They’d just developed warp-capable drives.”
“I was born before that, Pet.”
Concern blossomed on her face to replace the anger. “Is that what you believe? That you were born on Earth before the first colonists left?”
He shook his head. It was far worse than that. “I spent some time on Earth, yes. Was I born there? I don’t think so. Was I born then? No.”
Pet relaxed in the chair. For the first time, he noticed her disarray. Her hair had come loose from her normally tight bun. He bent and tucked a strand of it behind her ear, pleased more than seemed reasonable when she didn’t pull away.
“I’m glad to hear that, Nick. I have to admit, you had me worried. The charge of pirating the prison transport is the only serious charge against you. If we can prove what you’ve said is true and we can locate the missing prisoners, I believe I can get the other charges dropped. All you’ll have to do is install a standard trade beacon onboard your ship and submit to regular log audits. But if the authorities think you’re mentally unbalanced, they’ll pull your license and confiscate your ship.”
Nick allowed his hand to follow the curve of her jaw. His thumb traced the pattern of her lips. How he longed to kiss her the way a man in time could kiss a woman. “I wasn’t born during the time of the First Wave. I was born before that.”
Pet’s expression crumbled. He wanted to take her face between his hands and kiss away all those worried looks. But he couldn’t. If he did, he’d lose his courage and never tell her the truth.
“When?” The word shot out of her. Then her mouth snapped shut.
He shrugged. He smiled. He pulled the sheet more tightly around his waist. The only piece missing was what had happened five years ago to make him forget. Some trauma? Or merely the weight of time? His mind’s way of coping with too many years full of memories?
“A very long time ago. Before time was kept, perhaps.” Suddenly, his shoulders dropped. For the first time, everything was clear. “The day the first mother made a wish for her child, a wish she couldn’t fulfill. On that day I was born.”
* * *
When Zenus called Petrovia to witness the Miracle in the Mess, as the tech-heads were calling it, she left without waiting for Nick. When he arrived moments later, a mob of excited children followed him to the other side of the room, leaving her with the adults to mull the transformation. She had no idea how Nick had accomplished so much in one night.
After Zenus lifted the last child to pluck her toy from the shimmering, metal tree, he lumbered toward Pet. For once, his grin didn’t seem like a crime against his face.
”You could have let me in on the surprise,” he said. “I wouldn’t have entered it into the official log. I’ve never seen the children, or their parents, so happy.”
Pet didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t given thought to how far behind all this celebrating must have put them. “After a holiday, everyone seems to work harder. We’ll recover the lost time before the next logging period.”
Zenus gave her a quizzical look, but she ignored him. If anyone was crazy in this room, it was Nick, but she was beginning to doubt her initial evaluation. Oh, she didn’t believe any nonsense about him being several millennia old, but was he crazy as in being dangerous? No, she didn’t believe that. She’d have to ensure he was gone when sector security arrived. It would look bad on her record, but she’d survive the failure. Her promotion would be delayed a year or two. As much as the idea shocked and amazed, it didn’t bother her.
Nick’s ship was stocked and as fit as their crew could make it, although the chief engineer swore there was no way the thing was space worthy. Pet had faith that when the time came, Nick would make it out of the dock. After all, he’d been wandering the sector for five years.
She’d left Nick directions, handwritten in his diary, to a part of the galaxy where he could wander without worry of warring factions and hostile colonies. But if what Nick had said about himself was true, if he did travel to help all those worried mothers make the dreams for their children come true, trouble was where Nick would head.
True? Ridiculous.
“Yes,” Zenus continued to ramble, in a most uncharacteristic fashion, “Nick sure has tuned up morale around here. Worth taking a shot or two when it comes to eval time.”
He jutted out his chest as if daring her to add so much as a word against him in the official record for his part in hiding the Winterfest preparations. Zenus had to have heard about it, despite his insinuation that she’d had a part in the planning. All this would have taken Nick days to arrange. No wonder he hadn’t protested eating in her quarters. He hadn’t wanted her to come to the cafeteria. He couldn’t have hidden the tree any place else.
The narrow metal branches and paper-thin leaves of the make-believe tree shook and shimmered in time with the vibrations of several dozen children singing.
Zenus’s wrist alarm bleeped. He heaved a sigh and dragged his hand through nonexistent hair. “Guess it couldn’t last forever. Do you want me to escort the prisoner?”
“Prisoner? What are you talking about?”
“Sector security is here. Like you arranged.” Her second-in-command frowned. “You could have left him more time after all he’s done, but I guess the poor bastard’s run out of it.”
Zenus nodded toward Nick, who now waded hip-deep through singing space rats. Running out of time wasn’t a thing she connected with Nick. He always gave the impression of having more than enough.
“How did they find us? Security, I mean,” she asked.
“Nick solved that problem last night. He checked in with the guys going over his ship. Turns out he had some location disrupter turned on. No idea why our systems didn’t detect it. He said it had something to do with you changing his ship’s clock the first time you boarded.” Zenus turned to leave.
The air grew so thick in Pet’s throat she could barely breathe. “Why would it do that?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking why he told us? Security hasn’t been able to get a lock on us since he arrived. Nick resets his clock and now the bad guys are here.”
Pet opened her mouth to protest the bad guy label, but then realized she was no longer certain. Nick’s crimes were bureaucratic, resulting in extra paper work and lost tariffs, if she didn’t count the missing boys.
Pet watched Nick hoist a little girl onto his shoulders, the lump in her throat growing larger. “Zenus, what do you know about a school on Agathocles?”
“The New Alliance renewed their favored trade status when the Agathocles Union broke ties with the Tridens.” Zenus cleared his throat and straightened his jacket. “But if you’re talking about that damned Gathian cloister…well, it won’t be official until after the war…don’t want to upset their host government.”
“What do you know, unofficially?”
“Word is they’re not what they seem. We rescued a man from there a few cycles ago. Scuttlebutt has it he was tortured and…well…it’s all unofficial…”
Zenus tugged at his collar, a blush turning him an unbecoming pink. Whatever created such an unnatural display of emotion in her normally unflappable Second Lieutenant, she didn’t want to hear the gory details.
“Do you think he’ll come peacefully?” Zenus asked.
“I don’t know why not,” Revis said, the plot quickly forming in her mind. She hadn’t graduated in the top one percent of her tactical class for nothing.
She grabbed Zenus’s shoulder and swung him around to face her. For the first time since they’d met, she didn’t amplify her voice to impress him. She spoke soft and low, a false smile on her face for the benefit of the crowd. “Take Nick out the back. I think you might just lose him there, close to his ship. He’s a tricky customer, you know. He’s given sector security the slip for several years now.”
The grin on Zenus’s face was starting to look natural. “And what will my captain be doing while I’m flushing my next promotion out an airlock?”
“I’ll be inviting the boys from security in for tea. Maybe even to join us in a little Winterfest celebration. Stay long enough so they’ll shut down their engines”
* * *
Based on the heaviness in his heart, Nick knew he’d never failed quite so thoroughly before. It was clear to him as he left the ship’s mess and walked toward his ship. He hadn’t come for the children; he’d come for Pet.
And he’d failed.
Zenus grabbed his arm to hurry him down the corridor. “I hope it was worth the risk.”
Nick shook his head, not certain what the man meant.
Zenus snorted in disgust. “The present, man, the present. I hope she appreciates it. It may have cost you your freedom.”
He shoved Nick up the ramp to his ship before Nick could turn for one last look. Maybe it was best that he couldn’t see her one last time. He’d failed to fulfill the wish of a mother, even if a long dead one, and his dreams were in dust as well. All he’d been able to do was leave Pet a token, a promise of what her heart desired. A memory.
For himself, he could only pray that he’d remember her when this mission faded from his mind. The feel of her in his arms, her lips brushing against his, they would be all he’d have in the endless millennia ahead.
“Take off, man, take off. She’s stalling for you.” Zenus slammed the hatch shut from the other side.
Nick reached for the ancient chronometer. Altering the sequence had allowed the Akthena to emerge from its cloak out of time. When he changed it again, he would disappear where security and Pet would never find him.
Nick wrenched open the outer hatch.
* * *
Petrovia smiled grimly at the three young men who’d swaggered their way onto her station. Even if they hadn’t come to take Nick away, she wouldn’t have liked them. Thankfully, what she disliked about them most made them easy to maneuver.
What’s taking Nick so blasted long? I can’t stall these guys forever.
Finally, Zenus answered her hail.
She raised a finger to stop the most senior of the officers who graced her bridge from pontificating yet again on the wonders of the boys’ club, officially known as sector security.
”Yes, Zenus, and when might we expect to see the prisoner?”
“Trouble here, Captain.”
Pet smiled. She’d never heard trouble announced in such a cheerful voice.
“The prisoner has vomited. Quite a mess here, ma’am.”
The young lieutenant flicked invisible dust from his sleeve and wrinkled his noise, no doubt imagining the sour smell that would accompany his prisoner onto his ship.
“Security is eager to take possession of their prisoner.” Pet flung another smile across the room. “We do want to cooperate fully with sector security.”
It was almost worth her promotion to fool this sniveling ass. Almost? She’d better be certain. She’d be lucky to get out of this with her commission intact. And for what? A space-crazy vagabond who fulfilled wishes for children?
This was her career she was jeopardizing, everything she’d worked for her entire life, everything her mother had sacrificed for.
“Would you gentlemen would like to come to my quarters while my people make the prisoner presentable? I have some wine from Orgon, the Pandaran region, of course, which you might like to share.”
Three pairs of heels clicked in unison. At the idea of being invited to her quarters or indulging in a bottle of wine she couldn’t afford? Either one, or possibly both, had caught their attention.
The senior lieutenant rushed to agree. “We don’t wish to rush your staff. If they need more time to prepare the prisoner, we can oblige.”
Pet swallowed a snicker. Chasing a space station for days, and now that they’d cornered their prey, they risked letting him slip away for a drink of overvalued wine and a peek at a woman’s bedroom.
She silently debated the matter as she led the three men to her quarters. Zenus’s coded verbal report indicated Nick needed more time to escape, which meant it wasn’t too late for her to change her mind and turn him in.
By the time she slapped her hand on her door panel, she knew she couldn’t betray him. Even if he didn’t turn her insides soft when he held her and make her lips burn with imagined kisses, he’d made the space rats happy. Besides, who could betray a man half the station personnel were calling Father Winter?
When her door swished open, the smell drove her back a step. The officer behind her grunted in surprise before he stepped around her.
“What’s this?” he demanded. The three men crowded around the foot of her bed.
She shoved one of them aside. It was a tree. Just like the one on her mother’s quilt. Only this one looked real. A small, green tree with pointed needles instead of leaves and brown cones dangling from its branches. It smelled of pine, a hard-to-get scent, her only luxury. When she stretched out her hand to see if it could possibly be real, a flash of light stopped her.
The giggle that escaped her throat startled everyone in the room, but no one more than Pet. Tiny white lights, perfect imitations of the satin, flame shapes on her mother’s quilt, flashed on and off.
Unable to hold back any longer, she laughed. The memories were so bright and clear. Her mother’s preparations, the anticipation of secrets, the glory of the day finally arrived. Her mother had wanted all of that for her. Now Pet remembered. Her mother had never wished for her to receive a promotion or to achieve worldly success, to be the first this or the best that.
Her mother’s prayer on all those Winterfest Eves had been for her children to be happy. Nick’s very presence had made her just that, long before he gave his gift.
“I have bad news.” The booming voice behind startled them into turning around. Zenus’s smile faded when he saw Pet.
A hand to her cheek confirmed the strange sensation. She was crying. With shaking fingers, she wiped her cheeks, hoping the other men were too distracted to notice her tears.
Pet started to draw a deep breath. Then she stopped. She replied in her normal voice. “Go ahead, Zenus.”
“The prisoner seems to have escaped.”
“What?” The three from sector security screeched in unison before they scrambled out the door. Zenus didn’t make their exit easy. Each had to squeeze past in single file.
While a strange light danced in his eyes, Zenus made his report. “I’m afraid their engines have cooled. Oddly enough, our boys were right in the middle of a system check on their vessel. Perfectly legal. We used the same clause to check Nick’s ship. A safety check on suspicious vessels visiting stations housing civilians. Security won’t be able to get their ship going for ten minutes, tops.”
“Is that enough time for Nick to get away?”
“Nick will make it. Sector security probably won’t even mention his escape. Too damned embarrassing. Things couldn’t have worked out better if we’d planned instead of working things out on the fly. Hell, even the space rats are happy for once. But what about you, Captain?”
“Me?” She turned to the tree, her hand skimming the prickly surface of the needles. Zenus was right, everyone was happy, even Nick, free once again to go about his merry way, surprising people and brightening their lives in such unexpected ways. If what Zenus guessed was true about security, she might even hold onto her commission.
So why did she feel as if she’d lost the most important thing in her life since her mother died?
Zenus coughed into his fist. He was turning that strange shade of pink again. “I’ll take care of the tree.”
She couldn’t think of a sensible reply. She couldn’t think at all.
He shook his head. “Damned, fool woman.”
He reached behind the tree and pulled out a package wrapped in dappled green paper. When he held out the present to her, she shook so badly that all she could do was nod her head while her hands curled into fists.
Zenus tore away the wrapping. “He almost didn’t get away. Insisted he had to leave this for you. Don’t know why, unless….”
Her hands stopped shaking the moment she recognized Nick’s diary-pages of ivory parchment filled with his ornate handwriting. She opened the book to the place marked by a red ribbon. Tomorrow’s date and time was hastily scribbled at the top and the rest was blank. Blank. All the days after today were blank.
It was logical. That was the way a diary worked. The pages were supposed to be blank. But coming from Nick, it meant more.
Zenus cleared his throat. “A hot shuttle’s waiting at emergency lock three, coordinates entered. Nick can’t wait long, but he will wait. You’ll either come back with him a prisoner or you won’t come back at all.”
Nick needs me. The idea filled her heart and finally her head. Nick needed her and he made her happy.
Pet grabbed her second by the shoulders and gave him a kiss full on the mouth. Blushing was becoming a habit with Zenus.
“Take care of the tree for me,” she whispered before she turned away.
Zenus stepped out of the room to watch her run down the corridor, headed toward shuttle bay three. He watched with wonder as she rounded the corner, turning one last time to wave.
The officious Captain Revis had vanished, replaced by a luminous woman he barely recognized. Zenus had no doubt he would never see her again, unless she should chance to visit in the dead of night some Winterfest Eve.
1Home for the Holidays was originally published in an anthology Stardates: Infinite Celebrations by Dreams Unlimited in 1999 in electronic format.