Chronicles of the Aeons War, page 80
part #3 of The Omniverse Series
♦♦♦
Heihachi stood silently at the transparent wall of his quarter’s common room. The Harbour was dark but for beacon lights and a storm of fireworks designed to explode in vacuum. ‘Lina was out; in truth they both knew he would be gone when she returned – which would probably be only in the ‘morrow. She was out tonight, with old friends and comrades-at-arms. She would want to be; she would need to be. So would he, if he’d ever bothered to form closer bonds to anyone other than ‘Lina or his Commodore.
The long years of Operation Metatron, coupled with the problems they already faced dealing with Daniel’s increasing fatigue and depression when off duty – or worse, when down on Respite between Combat Instances – became more and more than they could bear. The arguments became more hostile, more cruel…more meant to sever all umbilicals in the event of catastrophic relationship failure. This was standard procedure, he realized.
Roshenko Aqualina had been ready to resign her commission following Operation Metatron, so that they might at long last begin the family they’d wanted when they were younger. But Heihachi had become so withdrawn, so focused on his duties to the War Effort, as he called it, that he worked to exhaustion and waning interest in any kind of intimacy with ‘Lina. And when she asked him simply to donate semen that they could have children together, he asked her how he could possibly help bring innocent life into a world where their very existence was under imminent threat of annihilation.
Though that argument wasn’t the last, it was the end.
The distance was both physical and emotional; Heihachi simply became more and more grave…more and more focused on the only thing that he seemed able to make sense of…the only thing he could control…strategy, combat, duty. Aqualina became a war widow to a living man who’d sacrificed himself to his cause.
And of course, throughout the long years of the Operation, during the down time between repair instances there had been arguments…fights…always the same old issues…always the same old triggers. Finally it came to a point where they weren’t sleeping in the same bed, and every innocent accident, misspoken word or misstep was a cause for one or the other to launch into a passionately angry conflict.
Behind their eyes as they faced one another, so visible to each other and yet so out of reach because of their own anger and grief was the pain. They had lost each other as friends, as lovers…they had lost everything they once held dear. And now, they were killing the memory of all that had been good of the decades…the centuries they’d loved one another and served together aboard the Ouroboros.
Finally, the night before the official celebrations of Operation Metatron were to commence, they had a long talk. Daniel surprised them both by initiating it. They went to their separate bedrooms, though neither truly slept.
The following morning Aqualina left early and when she was gone Heihachi packed his belongings – clothes and uniforms, personal data devices and a few mementos, and had them ordered for transfer aboard the Ouroboros. The cargo and logistics team sent from the ‘Boros were behind him even then, securing the last of his possessions for transport.
“Thank you for your speed and efficiency, ladies and gentlemen,” he told the team when their crew chief reported everything stowed and ready to go, “I’ll make sure to commend you to your Lieutenant for your commitment capably seeing to your duties.”
A round of “Thank you, Captains” made the room as they left. Heihachi never stopped looking out at the Harbour, at the docking bay where the dormant Ouroboros was moored. His new home; the only place he understood, anymore.
♦♦♦
Benedict had been on the Command Deck and the Bridge for almost the whole of the Operation. He’d stayed out of the way while observing operational procedure, chain of command and what sort of commander and tactician Commodore Baxter Vincent was.
During more than one instance, as an official Command Deck Officer, Benedict was pressed into service; working a station, repairing a system, relaying orders or plain running them from the Bridge to one of the Crew Pits.
He moved up to Tactical Analyst, working Tac Command in the Pits, relaying all manner of information back up to the Bridge, sometimes uplinking directly into the Commodore’s cortical implant.
Benedict had served rotations in the Sensor pits, comm., navigation and helm, astro cartography, systems and engineering…looking over it all now that it was done, Benedict realized that he had gone through Operation Metatron learning every position on the Command Deck, and many of their related departments behind the Command Hub.
He wasn’t particularly surprised; they were grooming him to become the Grandmaster. And though he’d served many long years already, fighting – or more precisely drilling, training and waiting – to fight his way through several years’ worth of Combat Instance Battles. He wondered if he’d changed as the El-Ahur did or if his transformation had happened when the Queen of Light and Sorrow had healed him from a beyond-lethal sixty Sieverts of radiation. Certainly, he had no aches and pains, he looked no older than thirty five, forty, but his best guess was that he was now around two hundred and thirteen years old.
War was still nightmare and tragedy; each combat and Combat Instance its own Hell. But the time between, the eyes of the Combat Instance hurricanes, Benedict spent prepping for the next Combat Instance, yes – but they were also spent at considerable leisure. He had long ago become used to this new way of life…though the wound of Alina Tanaka’s death never fully healed, Pomeroy Zaiola had made him whole again.
It had been inevitable, he supposed. She’d always advised him, always given him a different opinion of events than anyone else, always been a confidante. And, she likewise had always confided in him. She’d been fascinated by how different he was as a younger man than the older Grandmaster she’d first known.
It had happened one lonesome night while the ‘Boros was berthed for repairs and refitting. They were both out walking the observation gantries along the transparent outer Harbour wall, just talking. In all the years they’d grown to be friends he’d never broached the subject; never asked that one question that sometimes hung ponderously in the air between them. But at that moment, looking at her, Benedict wanted to know. And he wanted to see where asking her the question would lead, already knowing what he wanted. At that moment, physical urges were mocking what he usually considered to be his better judgment.
“So, I guess it never came up…but…what happened? How did you and I – you and he – how’d you get together?”
Zai’s smile was coy, and Benedict honestly couldn’t tell if it was out of memory or out of the moment.
“It was odd,” she said, “The report came that the ‘Boros was coming into port. Nothing unusual there…but I just felt differently; despite how strange it had been years before to hear from him that he and I –”
“Were once and future lovers? What would be awkward about that?”
“You did it to me first!”
“Relative to you.”
“It’s my story, so yeah.” Zaiola finished petulantly. She let the silence hang a few beats while ruminating on how to take up the story…how to explain what in hell had possessed her.
“We were outfitting the Shekhina Mehdi’s fleet for a major offensive against the Zohor. Something about hearing Traffic Control advise us of the Ouroboros’ clearance to enter the Harbour just…I don’t know. We went through the prep routine, though I drilled the bay on a full pre-dock every damn day twice a day. The docking bay and the ‘Boros slip were ready well before she entered the Tree Structure.
“I just…really wanted to see you – him – again, and every minute with you I felt intoxicated. And you’d…he’d…always been discreet with me…kept his feelings to himself; you were professional, friendly. And truth be told I cared about him…about you…as a mentor, my superior officer and as a friend. To be honest, I’d sometimes catch myself thinking about him while the ‘Boros was away from the Point.
She regarded him a long moment as they continued their stroll, “On the eve of the battle you were all shipping out on I met up with you – him – while he went through your constant habit of wandering the decks at night.”
Benedict shrugged, “Beats staying home ‘jacked in to some pointless stream of entertainment.”
Zaiola nodded, “That night…when I ran into you…I don’t know; thinking about it now, maybe you already knew…but there was a look in your eyes…his eyes…that just…I knew that the time had come to decide, either way, what I wanted from you. And to be honest, I was going through a long single stretch and I really just needed to get laid. And I was pretty sure you were a sure thing…and that you’d be good at it.”
Benedict laughed, then asked, “And what happened?”
“I took you back to my quarters and we fucked like animals all night,” she said, making his face grow hot, “He…you knew every millimetre of my body…where to kiss, when to bite and exactly how hard to do it…when to slap…what spots to scratch…where and how to touch me…”
“Wow,” Benedict exhaled.
“Your future is my past, Jack.” She said, stepping closer to him, “The roles are reversed now. He knew me the way only a lover could, though he and I had never been together.”
She leaned in and kissed him just so…just as she had the first time he’d met her on Anuket Station…so perfectly.
“Now, I know you the way only a lover could, though you and I have never been together.”
She kissed him again, and they kissed for much longer than before.
“What do you say?” she breathed at his neck as they broke, “You wanna go back to your quarters this time, and see what we can do about evening the playing field?”
“Oh, yeah,” Benedict rasped, “Oh, hell yeah.”
Zaiola laughed throatily and they hurried to the nearest tramway station.
♦♦♦
Heihachi crossed the long gantry between the Harbour and the Ouroboros on foot, choosing to wear the more elaborate dress uniform of the El-Ahur Starfleet as he crossed into what would, for the duration of his tour of duty aboard the vessel, be his new home.
The walk alone along the main gantry was something he felt he had to do. It was a gesture symbolic solely to himself, but it was an important one. There was little traffic on the main gantry at this hour; his belongings had long since been stowed in his quarters. He’d taken one last tour of Bloom’s Point, sure that he would never set foot in its civilian areas ever again. If he could avoid it, he’d never again cross from the ship into the Point at all.
His new quarters – a Single Senior Officer’s quarters as opposed the Dual Suite he’d shared with ‘Lina – were considerably smaller. He had a small front room, the head just off of it, and a bedroom, where his storage locker and wardrobe were. The front room had enough space to walk around a work booth to the head or the bunk. Far more space than a General Officer would get, and certainly better than the shared dorms of the NCOs.
There was a knock against his open main door and the Commodore stuck his head in.
“Settling in, Captain?”
“Just got here, sir,” Heihachi said, “I haven’t even opened my transport boxes, yet.”
“As long as you know where your clean uniforms are.”
“As you say.”
Baxter Vincent inhaled as if smelling the question hanging in the air.
“How are you holding up, Dan?”
Heihachi shrugged, “As well as can be expected, I imagine.”
“I feel like a bastard, as the Voyager would say, asking this…but will there be issue with you working alongside Aqualina on the Command Deck, or the Bridge Platform?”
“Sir, we’ve had problems for a long time now; we both handle ourselves exceptionally well on duty and I don’t see any reason that wouldn’t continue. If you lack confidence in my performance, or if you see that my performance compromises my duties –”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all; I’ve already asked Commander Roshenko the same question; had the is same conversation. As I told her, if I should have to remove either of you from the Command Deck, I’ll do it in an instant. I just want to know if you feel up to it.”
Heihachi sighed.
“It isn’t going to be easy. But, I’m an El-Ahur, and we are not known for taking the easy path.”
Baxter nodded, “That’s good enough for me, Dan. And if you ever need to talk –”
“I know. And I appreciate it. But right now sir, I have a lot of unpacking to do.”
“I’ll leave you to it. See you on the Command Deck on your next rotation.”
“As you say,”
♦♦♦
Dagan, Kothar, Anat and Beryt stood around their sleeping Sister, the Hope, as She rested her face against the flat, rectangular slab of black metal ensconced in the grip of her cables and tentacular appendages. She looked almost at peace as She allowed Her Mind to explore the device, to learn its secrets and prepare for the Final Phase of operations against the Zohor.
But they hadn’t had Gabrielle back with them for very long, after what had felt like an eternity apart from Her. They swore, silently and as one, to remain by Her side until She woke. But it would be an indeterminate wait; they were worried and afraid. How long would they be without Her, this time? Would She be changed again by this latest fusion with the Life-Destroyers, the Zohor? It had been a struggle to lead the Jibrail without the Hope. The Jibrail fled their hiding places among the Zohor fleets in droves, fighting an Exodus battle of their own as the Zohor seemed to wake with a vengeance to the intruders’ presence.
With the Hope lost, the Jibrail had fled by the billions…though only a few hundred million had survived. There had been five Motherships, originally. The Zohor had obliterated the first, and the second was lost in a Q-field fissure. The third and fourth Motherships were destroyed when the Zohor overwhelmed the Jibrail fleets guarding them. The only one left became the center of the Jibrail’s Exodus fleet: tens of millions of surviving ships, intent on developing the technology to crush their enemy once and for all, and of course, to seek out the Hope, wherever She may be in the Omniverse.
They rebuilt their forces over time, the Pentavirate Less the Hope, called the Broken Four, now governing Jibrail society. They followed the Wishes and Orders of their Queen, but they also enacted emergency measures: accelerating the development of Jibrail newborns and manufacturing facilities in order to bolster their numbers. They were unsure if they could become invisible to the Zohor again, and as such they would need the advantage of numbers and firepower.
Now as then the four of them felt lost and alone with the Burden of the Queen’s absence. They knew that if they tried to govern without Her, the Midianites – those the Jibrail had always sworn themselves to protect and obey – would reject their rule. Dagan, Kothar, Anat and Beryt reached the conclusion of what must be done as one.
They hated the necessity of such thoughts while their Love and Hope lay enmeshed with a Zohor obscenity. It felt wrong to not simply be holding vigil, but plotting how to keep order among the El-Ahur and the Midianites they served. But it was necessary. There was far too much at risk.
“Beryt of the Pentavirate, Conn,” Beryt said, linking automatically into the ship’s communications. There was a pause from the Command Deck, then the Commodore answered. Beryt suspected he’d been asleep, but the protocol the El-Ahur had fashioned for themselves meant he would be the one with whom the freaks as so many secretly thought of them would deal.
“Beryt, Commodore Baxter Vincent. How can I help?”
“We need to contact the Handmaid on Midian.”
“The Handmaid? Why?”
“In the Queen’s absence, it is she who must rule the El-Ahur and Midian.”
“We still don’t know how long –”
