On their way out, Lhyn steered her to the ancient molwyn tree in the center of the temple and rested a palm on its trunk. “This is going to sound odd, but would you put your hand here?”
Ekatya touched the smooth bark. “Okay. Why am I doing this?”
Lhyn looked expectantly into the boughs of the tree for several silent moments before letting her hand fall away. “I just wanted to test something.”
She was reluctant to explain, and it took the entire walk across the park to the State House before Ekatya learned the origin story of the Alsean banner.
“When Lanaril told me that, I dismissed it out of hand,” Lhyn said. “It was so obviously an oral history that had been embellished and turned into myth. But I thought the whole concept of tyrees was fiction, too.”
“So you were hoping that since you were wrong about one thing, maybe you were wrong about the other?”
“No…I was hoping we were that special.”
Though she tried to hide it, her disappointment was obvious.
“And I thought I was competitive,” Ekatya said teasingly. “We’re the only known tyrees of our entire species and you want more?”
A reluctant smile spread across Lhyn’s features. “I guess that does seem a bit ungrateful.”
“I should say. Andira would probably give her left arm to have what we have.”
“Maybe her right arm. Since she’s left-handed.”
They reached the Councillor’s Entrance to the State House and were saluted by the warriors flanking the door. Ekatya returned the salute, having long since grown comfortable with the gesture. It was when they reached their suite and Lhyn was puttering around the living area that she had a shocking realization.
She was happy here.
For a month, Fleet had dangled her on a string, telling her “it’s complicated” whenever she asked about her fate. On the one hand, she’d disobeyed orders in a spectacular fashion. On the other, she’d helped save the Protectorate from a disastrous shift in the balance of power. It seemed that half of the Fleet brass wanted to court-martial her while the other half wanted her to run for public office. Since she couldn’t leave Alsea, there was no urgency in resolving the debate. So they argued, and she waited.
But it wasn’t in her nature to sit around and do nothing, so she’d spent the last month helping the Alseans in general and Andira in particular. In the process she’d settled into a de facto position of ambassador, though she was never quite sure whether she was representing Alsea or the Protectorate. And everywhere she went, Alseans looked at her with expressions of awed respect. They called her the Savior of Blacksun, for Shipper’s sake. She was globally famous, Andira was offering a shining career and telling her to write her own orders, Lhyn never wanted to leave, and then there were the Sharings. If she left Alsea, she’d leave those behind as well. That was about as appealing as kicking a narcotic habit without medical assistance.
She rested a hand on the window and looked down at the park, a view she’d come to love. Never in her adult life would she have believed she could be happy with a dirt-side desk job. But here she was, grounded and content.
To Hades with Fleet, she thought. It was time for a new chapter in her life.
* * *
That evening the call came from Admiral Tsao. They’d found a shuttle.
Chapter 66
Choices
Tal saw the figure waiting by the side entrance as she and Gehrain turned the corner and ran the last part of their circuit.
“Looks like I have company for my cooldown,” she said. “Take the rest of the night, Gehrain.”
“Thank you, Lancer Tal. Have a good night.”
“And you.”
She slowed to a walk as Gehrain jogged toward the State House and past Ekatya, offering the salute that nearly all of the warriors gave her these days. It seemed they had spontaneously adopted her into the caste and decided her rank was the equivalent of a colonel.
Ekatya returned the salute, making Tal smile. A nod was sufficient acknowledgment, but the captain insisted on the full ceremony. It was a gesture of respect and had earned her a great deal of goodwill.
“I felt you halfway across the park,” Tal said as she drew near. “Walk with me?”
Ekatya fell into step beside her. “It’s late for a run.”
“This is the best time in the summer. Besides, nobody bothers me at night.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I am.”
“You’re not. But something is certainly bothering you.”
They had reached the edge of the State House and turned toward the distant wall before Ekatya spoke again. “I got a call from Admiral Tsao. It seems that after a moon of non-answers, Fleet has suddenly found consensus. They’re offering me a ship. A Pulsar-class ship.”
“So they finally realized what they’d lose if they let you go. Will you take it?”
“I don’t know. Last moon it wouldn’t have been a question. Now…everything is different.”
The overhanging trees gave way to a clearing with a small fountain in its center. When Ekatya looked up to the sky, Tal followed her gaze. Clouds were blotting out half the stars, and she could smell rain coming, a sure sign of autumn. Its arrival would herald a moon of relentless rains in Blacksun Basin. They had so much to do before then.
“Here’s the strange part,” Ekatya said. “There is no Pulsar-class ship available. They’re offering me a new one off the line; it’s under construction right now. There must be twenty qualified captains in Fleet who would sacrifice their own grandmothers to get that ship, and I’d bet none of them spent the last moon under threat of court-martial. So it seems more than a little odd that they’re offering it to me.”
“I don’t know how qualified those other captains might be, but I know you. Perhaps there’s hope for that Fleet of yours after all.”
“Or perhaps somebody interfered.”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“That might be the first outright lie you’ve ever told me.”
“Has your tyree bond conferred empathic abilities, then?”
“No, but I remember you making me a promise. In your office, the day they raised the Caphenon. You said you’d make certain Fleet gave me the reward I deserved. As I recall, there was something about using shannel as leverage.”
Tal chuckled. “I didn’t need the shannel.”
“I didn’t expect you to admit it so easily.” Ekatya stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. “When did you put that in the negotiations? I thought I was there for all of them.”
“You might have missed one or two. Possibly Aldirk forgot to notify you of the schedule.”
“Aldirk never forgets anything. You cut me out of the negotiations so I wouldn’t know.”
“I’ll get stiff if I don’t keep moving.” Tal walked on, waiting until Ekatya reappeared at her elbow. “You couldn’t be involved. The negotiations were about you specifically.”
“All right. I can accept that, but why not tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know if I’d be successful and I didn’t want to get your hopes up. A good politician never publicizes a deal until it’s done.”
“You can’t tell me that was the work of a politician.”
“I owed you.”
“You think you owed me. I didn’t crash my ship because of you.”
This time it was Tal who stopped. “You were under threat of court-martial because of me. Because I took away your choices. I wanted to make sure that whatever you decided about your future, you did it with a full range of options.”
Ekatya stared at her and then shook her head. “You’ve made it worse, you know. We had midmeal with Lanaril today and talked about tyrees, and afterward I realized that I’m happy here. I’m happy doing what I am, living where I am, having Lhyn as a full partner. She’s in anthropology paradise, and on top of that she’s respected for her own work in a way she wouldn’t be as a captain’s wife. She neve
r wants to leave. I was ready to plant my boots on the ground, and now—” She cut herself off and repeated, “You’ve made it worse.”
Tal touched her arm and they resumed their walk, passing into another path lined by overhanging trees. “My intent was to give you a gift, not make your life more difficult.”
“I know. And I appreciate it, truly. It’s just…I finally felt settled and suddenly everything is in flux again.”
“That’s your perception, not reality. You can stay just as settled if you want.”
“But I don’t know what I want; that’s the problem! Shippers, if anyone had told me a moon ago that I’d actually be questioning a new Pulsar-class command, I’d have thought they were insane.”
“I want you to stay,” Tal said. “You have so much to offer us, and you’ve proven your worth ten times over. But I don’t want you to stay because you think it’s the best you can manage. If you’re going to serve Alsea, it should be because it’s what you truly want to do, the best of all the options. Alsea doesn’t need a warrior whose oath is halfhearted.”
She felt Ekatya stiffen, a spike of irritation lancing through her turmoil.
“Are you trying to push me out?”
Tal had to smile. “You’re just stubborn enough that pushing you might be the way to make you stay. But I’m tired of feeling guilty every time you mention Fleet and think you’re hiding your grief. You mourn it because it was taken away from you. Now here it is, being offered to you on a golden plate. Either you take it and regain what you lost, or you turn it down and stay here. But if you turn it down, it will be your choice this time, not mine or anyone else’s.”
“My choice and Lhyn’s. She has a say in this.”
“Yes, she does.” Tal wondered if Ekatya realized how much she’d changed in a few short ninedays, to give Lhyn such a voice in her decision. “What was her reaction?”
“I haven’t told her yet. I wanted to speak with you first.”
“When do they expect an answer?”
“I have twelve days. That’s when the shuttle arrives.”
“They found one? I suppose I’ll hear that in tomorrow’s contact.”
“It’s some retired pilot in his eighties whose hobby is restoring old shuttles. He leaped at the chance to fly for Fleet again.” Ekatya chuckled. “I can’t wait to tell my crew they’re going to be flown out of here by someone old enough to be their grandfather. In a few cases, their great-grandfather. And Candini is going to birth a brick when she sees that shuttle.”
They shared a laugh over that image, but Tal was focused on one detail.
Twelve days might be all she had left.
Chapter 67
Recalled
Fate did not give Ekatya as many choices as Andira did.
When she let herself back in the suite that night, she found Lhyn standing at the wall of glass, staring out at the lights of Blacksun. Even from the door she could see the tension in her stance.
She crossed the room and wrapped an arm around Lhyn’s waist. “What’s wrong?”
Lhyn sighed. “I forgot I have a life.”
“Could you be a little more specific? Because I don’t see you having a life as a bad thing.”
“My year is up,” Lhyn said in a monotone. “The Institute is recalling me.”
Ekatya sucked in a breath. Of course. Of course they’d recall her. “We lost track of time.”
“Completely. I was thinking it’s only been a moon and three days since we landed, but I’ve gotten so used to Alsean timekeeping that I never converted. And now I’m told there’s a shuttle on its way to pick us up in twelve Alsean days.”
Ekatya did the math in her head. “Two stellar months,” she said. “We’ll have been here two months.”
“My year is up,” Lhyn repeated. “And Chancellor Tlesik called me personally to make sure I understood just how excited everyone is to see my full report. The last time Chancellor Tlesik was excited was when he finally cured his hemorrhoids.”
Ekatya couldn’t help chuckling, and even Lhyn cracked a smile. “Well, if anything could make that man dance a jig, it would be knowing that his Institute has a lock on your data. You’re going to be in great demand, you know.”
“I know. They’re already scheduling talk shows. Talk shows! I haven’t seen my team except by quantum com in almost two months, and I’ve gathered so much data here on the surface that it’s going to take me another half year just to go through it all, and they’re expecting me to pull conclusions out of my ass on live broadcasts. How am I supposed to do that? Not to mention the fact that I don’t want to leave.”
“I don’t either. But you have to, don’t you? The Alseans have blown the Protectorate apart politically, and they’ve turned a lot of disciplines upside down. Theology, xenobiology, military strategy… They’re a technologically inferior race that didn’t just defeat the Voloth, but annihilated them. The Assembly did a complete about-face and tossed the Non-Interference Act out the airlock for them. And on top of everything else, they’re empathic and not even fully Gaian. And you’re the only one who really knows about them.”
“That’s not true. If you think I’ll be in demand, what do you think they’ll want from the Fleet captain who became best friends with the Lancer of Alsea?”
“Stars and Shippers,” Ekatya said in sudden realization. “That’s what the admiral meant.”
Lhyn looked at her knowingly. “You got a call, too.”
“I was just coming to tell you about it. They’re offering me a new Pulsar-class ship, as soon as it comes off the construction line. But until it’s ready, I’m supposed to liaison with a new task force headed by Minister Staruin.”
“The leader of the Reform Party is heading a task force focused on Alsea? That’s big.”
“She didn’t say it would focus on Alsea. She said it would be reviewing the Non-Interference Act, and I was the perfect military liaison since I shattered the Act into a thousand pieces. But I think you’re right; it’s mostly going to be about Alsea.” Ekatya leaned against the window. “I was going to ask you to help me decide what to do. But if you’re going back, so am I.”
“You were going to ask me?”
She remembered Lhyn saying There was always this little voice and decided it was time to put a nail in that coffin. “Of course I was going to ask you. I told you once that I was married to my ship, and it wasn’t much of a joke then. But two months ago, I was lying in a field looking at my crashed ship and realized that there was something much more important in my life.” Reaching out for Lhyn’s hand, she added, “I know it didn’t seem like it when I tried to leave. But looking back now, I didn’t have a chance. Did I ever tell you that I heard your voice up there?”
“Well, I was talking to you on the wristcom…”
“No, I’d cut off communication by then. We were in the middle of giving the orders for the Caphenon to self-destruct, and right after the ship said my command code was required, I heard you plead with me not to do it. For a moment I thought I’d left the com open; it was that clear.”
Lhyn was looking at her oddly. “I did beg you not to do it. Out loud. I was standing right next to Andira and talking to the sky.”
Ekatya felt a chill. “I think I heard you.”
“Holy Shippers.”
They stared at each other in silence until Lhyn squeezed her hand and said, “I guess we’re stuck with each other.”
“I guess we are.”
“So we’re going back?”
“We have to, don’t you think? If you don’t, you’ll lose your position at the Institute and your reputation—”
“I don’t care about—”
“—and the Alseans need you to advocate for them,” Ekatya finished. “They need me, too. Think about it. How fine is the line between fascination and fear? The Alseans are an empathic species who destroyed the Voloth with nothing but their minds. How long would it take some reactionary politicians to paint them as an even greater thr
eat than the Voloth?”
Lhyn stared at her. “I never thought of that. Sometimes I hate your military mind. That’s horrible.”
“But it’s reality. And the only way we can fight it is if we get out there with the truth. With the details. The more familiar we make them seem, the better it will be. And who better to tell their story than us? You’re the scientist who learned their language and know more about their culture than anyone in the Protectorate. I’m the Fleet captain who fought the Voloth with the help of Alsean warriors. Alsea needs us, but they need us out there more than here.”
“But I’d rather be here,” Lhyn said. “Shekking Mother, I hate this.”
“It’s not forever. We’ll come back.”
“You’d better believe it. My life’s work is here. You need to understand that. I’ll go back because you’re right, we have to. But I’m only staying as long as I can be that advocate you talked about. When the data is out there, when my book is published and I’ve done the talk show circuit, I’m coming back.”
“Then so will I.”
Lhyn nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “I’m going to miss them.”
Ekatya folded her into a hug. “Me too. But they’ll have the quantum com on the shuttle, not to mention that Kameha repaired the quantum com on the Caphenon. Andira has a pad and you can give one to Lanaril, too. We’ll always be in contact.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not. But it’s better than nothing.”
“We won’t have any more Sharings.”
“Yes, we will. Just not for the next year or two.”
“I’ll miss her,” Lhyn whispered.
“I know,” Ekatya said, squeezing her more tightly. “So will I.”