Star Brigade: Odysseys - An Anthology (18 page)

She stood in the middle of the hollowed-out ship helm serving as their warmly lit common room, hastily dressed in her silky lavender robe. Sunny shook her head, causing her thick mane of powder blue hair to spill down her shoulders. “I
won’t
allow those murderous xenophobes anywhere near Big Victory.”

Antur had expected some hesitation as was Sunny’s way, but never such blatant refusal. He tried a different approach—begging. “These Korvenites are lost, leaderless and afraid. Most have no idea how to function in the outside world. They have nowhere else to go.”

“And whose fault is that?” the human sniffed.

Mine, and your species as well.
“Maelstrom’s fault, I know,” Antur detailed instead, nodding.

“Then they chose wrong,” Sunny concluded with an insolent toss of her hair.

Antur leaned away. How could she be so heartless? He thought that she understood his brethren’s plight. “We’ve provided shelter for several Korvenites in the past. Most of Big Victory’s Korvenite population came to this city seeking refuge…
including
myself, Vycho and Tharace.”

Sunny shook her head defiantly. “Totally different. You never tried wiping out every Earth human!”

Antur winced at the falsehood. He prayed that Sunny read that as his reaction to her resistance. “These poor creatures were thrown into internment camps, treated terribly for most of their lives and someone offers them a way out. What choice would you have made in their place?”

That finally reached Sunny. Her vehemence bled away and suddenly she looked very exhausted. “Antur…” the human began with a sigh.

Antur overrode her before she could reply. “All the Korvenites in town will take full responsibility for these newcomers,” he took her gently by the shoulders and looked his lover right in the eyes. “We’ll help them acclimate into the town. It will work out.”

“And what about when UComm comes, huh?” she shrugged off his grasp and began pacing around him. “What if these Korvenites lead UComm back to you and every Korvenite in Big Victory?”

Antur bit down his annoyance at her inability to stay still and trailed her pacing. “Then we’ll go underground, just like after the Earth Holocaust.” The Korvenites living in Big Victory when the Earth Holocaust happened had hid underground to avoid deportation. UComm never found them. “Even with our larger numbers, this could work again. Everything will be fine.”

But Sunny kept pacing, still unconvinced. “You don’t know that.” Her worry and her anger were tangible things, billowing out around her body.

The Korvenite weaved around and blocked Sunny’s path. “You’re right. I don’t know,” he admitted. “But Sunny, these could be all that are left of my species. We have to help them.”

Sunny’s mouth became thin and petulant. Antur could sense the resistance building up inside her. “No, you don’t. I chose you, Tharace, Vycho, Joreis and all the other Korvenites living in Big Victory. After what these Korvenite Independence Front crazies just tried to do, I do not choose those murderers.” Her last words harbored a spiteful contempt. “I won’t.”

You did choose a murderer
.
Three, in fact,
Antur winced,
you just don’t remember.

“Even if I wanted to grant these Korvenites asylum, do you think I’ll be alone in my opinion from the other non-Korvenite council members? Or the non-Korvenite citizens?”

Antur could find no plausible comeback for those inquiries, which was all the answer Sunny needed.

“I am sorry, my love,” she looked pained and sad, but resolute. “My answer would be the same whether or not they were Korvenites. I’m doing this for the safety of Big Victory.” She reached for his hands. “Please tell me you understand.”

Antur squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears. “I understand perfectly.” With cat-quick speed he took both sides of Sunny’s head in his hands. The Korvenite pushed past the self-loathing, and with his Mindspeak talents plunged into the human’s psyche. 

Sunny gave a surprised grunt, and her face emptied of all expression. The human woman’s eyes glazed over as Antur forced his telepathic will onto her. “This town, this world, is as much theirs as it is mine.” When Antur opened his eyes, they were blacker than pitch. “And no
human
will deny them of it.”

Antur pressed in deeper, and Sunny’s vacant eyes also turned black. “You will welcome these Korvenites into Big Victory with an open heart and mind. You will refuse them no courtesy. And if anyone protests in this settlement, you will defend these new arrivals wholeheartedly. Big Victory is their home now.” Antur breathed in deeply, and his golden irises reappeared.

The Korvenite let both hands fall to his sides and stepped back, hating every aspect of himself for what he had just done.

Today wasn’t the first time he’d influenced Sunny. Over the years, Antur could count on one and a half hands the times she’d needed a ‘nudge.’ 

But those ‘nudges’ were only to ensure that certain mayoral decisions favored the interests of Big Victory’s Korvenites. He loved Sunny as she was, not as some brainwashed puppet. Fifteen years ago was the only other time Antur had forcibly changed her mind.

They had just married, with Antur believing that Sunny’s love would be unconditional. So he had stupidly confessed his role in the Earth Holocaust.

Sunny had replied with disbelief, then horror, followed by an eruption of screams and curses. Antur never forgot the hatred in Sunny’s eyes. Nor could he bear sensing as her love for him rapidly evaporated.

So before she told anyone else, Antur had wiped her mind clean of his foolish admission. And suddenly he had won Sunny back—that smile, those adoring eyes, her love.

Antur was drawn back to the present by the sight of Sunny’s beady eyes returning to their white sclera and brown iris color. She blinked twice and shook her head, as if waking from a deep slumber.

“You’re…right, Ant,” the human uttered, her words thick with fatigue. She massaged the bridge of her nose. “These Korvenites deserve a chance.”

Antur’s stomach twisted and soured. But there was no other choice. “Thank you so much,” he whispered, and drew the human into an embrace so she wouldn’t see his eyes watering up.

“Anything for you,” Sunny kissed Antur’s neck. “Don’t cry. It’s okay. Your brethren are safe now.” She gave him an extra squeeze around the waist. A salty flavor filled Antur’s mouth. It was all the Korvenite could do to not vomit.

“I have some work to do still,” Antur said once they’d pulled away from each other. “Go back to bed. I’ll handle everything else.” Those words were spoken with a gentle telepathic nudge.

Immediately, Sunny yawned. “Yeah, I am tired.” She leaned in and gave Antur a peck on the lips. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Antur watched as she walked back into their bedroom, refusing to forgive himself this time. So he would live with his choice, bottle it away and let it sear at his very soul as punishment. But for now, his focus had to remain on protecting the remnant of his species. He reached out to Vycho, still down in the Hub,
Tell Tharace to get the townsfolk ready.

Did Sunny agree willingly or did you have to convince her?
Vycho thought back.

Antur bristled. Tharace would be laughing her head off when she found out.
Does it matter?

Vycho’s remorse tinted his thoughts.
I’m sorry, Antur.

Antur was in no mood for anyone’s pity.
Get those Korvenites in the underground barracks,
the Korvenite snapped.
I don’t want them anywhere near the town until we know they’re not a threat. I’ll come back to the Hub shortly.

Understood,
Vycho replied dutifully. His thoughts receded, leaving Antur alone in his common room.

The elder Korvenite sank into the common room couch, placing his head in his hands. The Korvenite opened himself up to the guilt and the anguish of all that he had done, and the millions who had died thanks to the actions of him and his eleven companions. It didn’t take long before his body began shuddering with silent sobs.

When the tears finally stopped, Antur stood up and dried his eyes, whispering a prayer to Korvan, a god whom he stopped believing in years ago. Old habit. The Korvenite then headed back to the Hub.

He had worked to do, for both Big Victory
and
the Korvenite race.

For the past week and a half, since the battle for Terra Sollus, a certainty had taken root inside Habraum Nwosu’s mind. The Star Brigade Senior Executive Officer hadn’t spoken it aloud during the convalescence from his extensive injuries in a Hollus Medcenter bed, or when he had delivered the news to Honaa Ishliba’s widow. Even at the funeral ceremony on Rothor IV almost a week ago, Habraum had kept that illumination to himself.

He should have died instead of Honaa Ishliba.

Sleep had been an elusive target tonight, as it had the past several nights since Honaa’s death. A quick workout made sense to clear his head and take an edge of the grief. Being cleared for light exercises this afternoon had been a blessing from the Twins themselves. As Habraum wore the black body training suit, short-sleeved and fitting a bit loosely due to his recent convalescence, he was hoping to shake off this frightening nihilistic outlook with some target practice.

Hit the target at least fifty times, and get right in the head.

Habraum stood alone across the floating coppery sphere target within the neon blue walls of HLHG Suite 4. Instead of working on his aim, the crimsonborn’s thoughts revolved around the borrowed time he continued living on.

He should’ve been the one to die. Instead, Honaa used his power of intangibility to toss Habraum out of the exploding space station.

Habraum closed his eyes, easily calling to mind every aspect of their first meeting eight years ago. Honaa had been the Star Brigadier who recruited the former AeroFleet pilot with no purpose after the Ferronos Sector War.

“Ssstrategic Assssault & Reconnaisssssance Brigade, Habraum,” Honaa had explained to him eight years ago, his smile displaying teeth that resembled daggers, his Ss punctuated with a hiss like all Rothorids. “Star Brigade. We protect the Galactic Union against extraordinary threatsss that most citizensss never know about. And we would love to dissscuss you working with usss.”

That memory twisted into Honaa’s stoic expression before
Amalgam
’s exploding inferno consumed him whole. Remembering the Rothorid’s end sent a cold shiver through him.

Honaa deserved to live out the rest of his days surrounded by the family he loved so much, on the swampy homeworld to which he longed to return. After giving so much to Star Brigade, staying when the going got tough while Habraum fled, Honaa deserved to bow out on his own terms. Instead, the brave Rothorid died saving Habraum’s life.

It should have been me
, Habraum realized again, tasting bitterness with each word.

At least Honaa’s children still had a parent,
another voice entreated. If he had died instead, his sweet Jeremy would be an orphan. Honaa knew that, making the guilt of Habraum’s survival that much more world-crushing.

On countless Brigade missions, ever since the Ferronos Sector War, he had been cheating death. This brought no relief. Not while other, better sentients kept dying around him.

Habraum raised his fist up and fired off a thick crimson blast—missing the moving target completely. He irately fired with his other arm, still tender from a recent dislocation. The target dodged again.

“FEKT!” His fury soaring, the Cerc unleashed a sweeping backhand arc of concussive force, finally smacking the spherical target to the ground. It bounced away. Habraum stalked it, going no faster than a hurried limp. The sphere attempted to float off the ground.

Habraum angrily pounded it back down with a glowing fist of pure kinetic force. He cried out to the Twins, to the whole universe, caving the sphere in with repeated, savage blows. “WHY?!”

His glowing fists rose and fell, hammering the ruined target into flattened sparking scrap.

He raised his fist again, and something grabbed him by the wrist. Lost in his fury, Habraum twisted free and whirled about with his blazing red fist cocked.

Seeing his ‘attacker’ then, fury instantly gave way to surprise…and shame.

Marguliese stood before him, golden and statuesque as always, studying him with those emotionless cerulean eyes.  The Cybernarr said nothing, nor did she have to.

What the hazik is wrong with me?
Pull yourself together!
Habraum straightened up with as much dignity as he could muster and shook his arm, sore from the sudden exertion.

“No one saw you,” the Cybernarr said flatly, answering the question he had dreaded to ask. Habraum dared a glance up at the walls behind him, the indistinct location of the holovid cameras that broadcast HLHG sessions to the HLHG ObDeck nearby.

Thank the Twins.
How could Habraum’s subordinates respect him again if they had seen that unripe outburst?

He took fleeting comfort in her unemotional demeanor…and remembered that she would be leaving as well. After how effective Marguliese had been, Habraum didn’t want that. However, the Cerc had promised Khrome that she would be gone once this Maelstrom business was finished. Plus, her presence placed the entire Star Brigade at risk should she be exposed.

“I should…get some sleep,” Habraum decided. Marguliese made no move to follow him, but he could feel her eyes on his back even after the HLHG Suite doors closed behind him.

Enough of this pity party rubbish.
Habraum shook his head to clear it out. Jeremy needed his father, not some bloke bludgeoning himself over what can’t be changed.
With Honaa gone and Marguliese departing soon, Star Brigade needs me more than ever.

So did Sam, his second-in-command…his best friend.

Habraum voiced his frustration with a loud groan and limped into an open translifter booth, hands on his head. What he wouldn’t do right now to see Sam’s irresistible smile. But that smile had been as absent from Habraum’s life as she had been.

On the surface, Sam D’Urso’s resolve appeared ironclad. She had helped with Jeremy and keeping Star Brigade steady while Habraum had been convalescing. Sam had even been spending time on Terra Sollus with that Korvenite lass who helped stop Maelstrom. She
seemed
fine…on the surface.

Habraum saw through the visage, recognizing the emptiness in her eyes. But Sam had no interest in his comfort. Since Honaa’s demise, Sam had been keeping herself buried in work, shutting everyone out.

According to Solrao, a few nights since Star Brigade had returned from Honaa’s funeral, Sam had been leaving Pilot Pub tanked-up. And usually not alone.

If that’s how she was coping, then Habraum wouldn’t judge. All he wanted was to be there for his friend when the grief became too much.
And it will…

Just this morning, they had started having breakfast briefings in his office to go over Star Brigade’s status. She and Honaa had been doing this for the past year, so Habraum figured it would do well to continue the tradition. He had worn his black and grey Brigade captain’s uniform while Sam went casual in a baby blue variant of the kurthon hooded tracksuits she favored. That was as far as Commander D’Urso took her casual air. She barely touched her peach oatmeal, and outside of one question about Jeremy’s wellbeing, made no effort to engage him beyond the meeting agenda—very unlike her.

At the meeting’s end she rose to leave, her farewell cold, curt and perfunctory.

“Sammie…” Habraum had called out, more from desperation than anything.

Sam gave him an uncomprehending look. “What?” she had snapped after the silence between them stretched on too long.

Thankfully, Habraum had found his voice quickly. “I’m telling you again. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam’s expression had frosted over into a bloodless mask, giving away nothing. “Whether that’s today, tomorrow, next week,” he continued. “I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

When Habraum finished, a thin, disdainful half-smirk pulled at Sam’s lips. She gave a slow shake of the head as if the entreaty amused her before turning and leaving without a word.

Habraum would’ve been more frustrated if he hadn’t been surprised. Sam dealt with personal loss by not dealing with it…until she had no choice. And despite their differences, she did care deeply for Honaa. However, experience had taught Habraum that pushing Sam too much would backfire.

She’ll come to me when she’s ready
, he told himself again as he arrived at his quarters. 

The Cerc stepped into his foyer. His plan for the night was to tackle some intelligence report reading and then sleep, until he tasted it. The gloom of his quarters carried a faint fragrance. Vanilla firespice.

Habraum smiled his first genuine smile since seeing Jeremy after the Battle of Terra Sollus. A quick glance confirmed she wasn’t in the living room.
Upstairs.
He climbed the stairs, feeling close to a hundred years old when moving as fast as his aching body would allow. The closer he got to his bedroom, the more anxiety poured acid over his excitement. What was she going to say? Would she be angry or sad or just more of what he got this morning? Too many questions.
Best to barrel head-on and not go skittery over it
, he told himself.

Walking slowly down the darkened upstairs hallway, the Cerc stopped instinctively in front of Jeremy’s room. He then quickly reminded himself that the boy had been at his grandparents’ on Terra Sollus since Habraum returned from Rothor IV. Given how close he had been to the KIF danger, Jennica’s parents had wanted to see Jeremy to confirm that he was truly alright (since Habraum’s word was clearly not good enough). 

He had actually been glad Jeremy spent the past four days with his grandparents. It gave the Cerc time to get his head sorted before resuming his fatherly duties.

He found her on his bed with legs crossed, hands limply on her lap. The dim lighting left her half-shrouded in gloom, but Habraum could make out her black short-shorts and green t-shirt with the university name ‘Wellington’ inscribed in white lettering across her chest. Her blond mane was pulled back in a high ponytail. She sat perfectly still, gazing blankly at the wall across from the bed.

She didn’t react to his arrival or his easing into a seat next to her on the bed. Habraum waited patiently for a response, waiting so long that when she finally spoke, her voice startled him.

“Haven’t slept well since Honaa…you know.” Sam sounded tired, her voice throatier than normal, lacking any vitality. “Then, tonight I had this dream that I didn’t catch you in time when you fell from the
Amalgam
.” She shook her head slowly, as if disbelieving the words she uttered. “Felt so real, and you had this calm look on your face…like when you were actually falling…as if you were all too ready to die.”

Shame crawled like cold fingers up Habraum’s spine. He had willfully forgotten that dishonorable moment, but now it barreled into the forefront of his thoughts.

“So I came over,” Sam continued in that low, dead rasp. “But…you were gone, and for a moment…for a moment I thought the dream actually had happened.”

The Cerc couldn’t forget how she’d rescued him yet again or that fleeting displeasure afterward, knowing he wouldn’t be reunited with Jennica. That wish, so selfish in hindsight, had been the only thing keeping the terror at bay when death seemed imminent.

Had Habraum died, Sam would have been the only veteran Brigadier left. Instead, it was just her and him from Star Brigade’s previous incarnation. “We’re the last of the old guard,” he offered quietly.

“I know,” she nodded. By the strain on that lovely face, the notion didn’t agree with Sam. Habraum’s past combat team came to mind unbidden. He cringed away from those thoughts. Maelstrom’s manipulation of his guilt over their murders and his wife’s demise still hurt too much to think about.

Sam looked up and turned to regard his face. Her russet eyes looked dead, blacker than pitch in the low-lit room. Sam reached out, stroked the side of his face with delicate fingers as if to confirm that he really sat beside her. Her touch sent warm tingles through Habraum from head to heel.

She slapped him.

“Oww. Okay,” the Cerc groused, more surprised than stung. So she was angry.
Anger, I can sort.
He turned his head back to her.

She slapped him.

Stars danced before Habraum’s eyes, one side of his face burning. Sam moved fast, rolling over and straddling him in one fluid motion. She pinned him down with her hands on his chest and a stare that could’ve soured fresh water. “If you
ever
give up like that again…I will skin you alive.”

“I’ll…right, then,” the Cerc blurted out, knowing his second-in-command was in no joking mood.

Sam moved to roll off, to flee from him and her anguish.

Habraum grabbed her forearms, holding her in place. Sam fought and writhed and yanked to break free, but Habraum refused to let go. Sam had always been deceptively strong. Had this been right after he’d left the Medcenter a week ago, she might’ve succeeded.
If I let go, she’ll hide behind her walls again.

“
Stop
,” Habraum’s voice dominated the room. Sam ceased her struggle, squeezing her eyes shut.

A single tear rolled down her left cheek. She looked barely able to hold the agony at bay. Seeing Sam in pain stabbed through the Cerc’s heart. Only alone with Habraum would Sam ever display her wounds. He reached out on instinct, thumbing away her tears gently.