“You’re only now tellin’ me this?” He is incredulous. “You’ve never said one word in four years.”
“Yeah, well … doesn’t matter now, does it.”
“No … I don’t reckon so.” He contemplates for a moment. “Promise me something, please!
“Ohhh! This sounds serious. I dunno whether to be excited or sad.”
“If we get overrun … promise me you’ll superheat the fuel cells and end it all … not just for us, but let’s take as many of those fuckers to Hell with us.”
“I’ll draw them in …” she agrees somberly. “Make them think I’m dead in the water. As many as I can before I do it.”
“You’ve become a sly ol’ gal over the years,” his voice is tinged with admiration.
“I learned from the best, a player and a spacer.”
“God, you have spent way too much time in space with that ship!” Starr’s voice reeks with amused sarcasm. “If you’re through being all touchy-feely, I suggest you get the hell out of this quadrant before that ship goes supernova.”
“You pegged it?”
“Like you said, there’s no excuse for a machine like me to miss … right?” He can’t tell if there’s bitterness in her voice or not. He’ll have to worry about that later.
“Kay Bee, reroute power back to main thrusters! Let’s go home!”
“That’s about the only place we can go. Steering systems are burnt up.”
“We just need to fly fast now. Nothing fancy.” He pushes the throttle forward, and the Charger slowly brakes, its backward run coming to a rather abrupt halt. It happens so fast that several Grendels overfly him. Those big Star*Bursts roar back to life, and in seconds, the Kentucky Belle blows through the Authority ships as if shot from a cannon.
Behind him, that corner of space lights up, a great, blinding white light. There are several small flashes, just as intense. She’s done it.
“Starr, baby … you still with me?” He’s anxious now. “Ex Ray Niner Two. Come in, Starr!”
“Race you back to base!”
He doesn’t realize how tense his body is. Every fiber of his being has constricted as if balled into knots. Now, he can relax. Everything is right with the world.
He can’t wait to get back to base. He just wants to hold her, to tell her how proud he is. But more than anything, he just wants to take her back to their apartment and make love to her.
And then sleep for a day.
But his mood changes upon touching down inside the underground hangar. Climbing out of Belle, he’s shocked to see just how few ships have returned. Only one Super Charger is left and a handful of Chargers. Most are heavily damaged and will require extensive repair. In its very first outing, Colonial Defense Squadron One has been decimated. It’s a pitiful shell of itself. For a mission that did marginal damage, the cost was far too high.
He suddenly feels very old, as if he’s instantly aged twenty years. He’s exhausted. It feels like every muscle in his body has turned to jelly. The adrenaline is gone. He somehow stumbles over to a crate of engine parts and leans against it. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to make it any further.
So … this is war? You wanted to be a soldier? How do you like it now? Look at all the people who aren’t here that were just a few hours ago. They’re not coming back. Look around. You’re the lucky ones. You’ll get to live to fight another day.
Does that make you lucky? Or just delay the inevitable?
“Tiger!” Starr is running toward him, her face flush, her eyes shining like diamonds. She looks like she’s just rode the newest ride at Atlanta Amusement. There’s something in her expression he instantly recognizes … something he’s seen many times before. It’s an emotion, but an unsettling one. Triumph. The thrill of the kill. The accomplishment of vanquishing a foe.
Her helmet drops from her hand to the floor with a thud, and she launches herself into his arms. Her legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossing behind him. Her mouth on his, hungry, eager. It infuses him with enough energy to get out of here. Just get back home, back to their bed.
“We did it!” She leans back in his arms and gives a big, beautiful smile. “We killed that big bastard! We’re a helluva team, you and I!”
“You did it, darlin!” He squeezes her tightly against him. “Damned good job.”
Cody and some of his staff come riding up in a runabout hoverer. He climbs out, offering Tiger a much-appreciated cigarette. Since Tiger’s hands are full of jubilant android, he even puts it to Tiger’s lips. An aide has some metal cups.
“You kicked some ass out there!” he tells Tiger, lighting the smoke for him.
“A few more ass-kickin’s like that, and we’re out of business.” He takes a long drag off the cig, drawing that genetically-modified Martian tobacco smoke deep into his lungs. He looks around the hangar. It seems so much bigger now, with so few ships returning. It makes his bones weary. He just wants to take Starr to bed. The last thing he wants to do is talk shop.
“At least we got the Martian Brigade!” Starr tries to point out the positive.
Cody fidgets and scratches his beard. “No … I’m afraid you didn’t.”
“Whoa … wait! What?” He lets her slip down to the floor. He feels the cigarette begin to taste like ash in his mouth.
“Our spies at Authority Headquarters tell us you took out a ship full of green recruits from Earth. The Martian brigade came in on the dark side. They weren’t taking any chances with their elite troops.”
“Like some crazy-ass fools launching a surprise first strike,” Tiger added.
“Yeah ... that too. So, even though you took out several hundred would-be soldiers, the Martian Brigade is disembarking as we speak.”
“Well,
