Three times...
21 Oct 2019Kodeyne
Kodenye sat at the table in her cabin, one hand propping up her head, the other wrapped around a wine glass. Her hair was dishevelled and she sniffed occasionally. This was her second bottle of Cab Sav, and so far it wasn't helping much.What a daft bitch I am.
For the first time in living memory, she had met a guy who hadn't just seen her as a potential fuck. He'd been kind, polite and a gentleman. Oh, and he could handle himself in a scrap too. And of course her total lack of self-esteem had gotten the better of her. She'd said she wasn't after a date. And he'd been fine with that. Then they'd had a run-in with some ne'er-do-wells, and beaten the crap out of them. That had set her adrenaline off, and it charged round her head lighting up all the wrong things. They'd got back to their ships and before they parted, she had only gone and kissed him.
And walked away. Flew away.
So here she was. Trying to drink her way past the confused, messed-up feelings and moping like a lovesick teenager.
Why do I always do this?
She realised that the bottle was empty. Stood up, swaying, and concluded a third would not be a good idea. Bumping into door frames and walls, she made her way to her cabin and wrapped herself in the duvet, to await the inevitable nightmares.
The next morning was difficult. Did not want to get out of bed, but knew fine well she had to. A drawer in the galley yielded a bottle of Orrerian Vicious Brew, which she downed in one go. The buzz hit her like a fully-laden Type-9, leaving her gasping.
The cargo hold was chilly as she made her way to one of the lockers. She was stripped to sports bra and shorts, shuddering with the cold and caffeine as she dragged the punchblock out. A six-foot cuboid of pale blue, composed of foam and gel. Teeth gritted, began to practise her Defendu moves, trying to work some of the frustration off. An hour later, drenched in sweat, she sank to her knees and leant against the block. Stowed it away, got clean and suited.
Settling into the pilot's seat of Falling Angel, the ache still lurked inside but she felt a bit more in control.
To business. Hmm....
Aquaponic systems. Buy. Locate nearest agri-system. Launch, jump, supercruise, dock, the old familiar routine. Traded her way slowly from Federation to Imperial space, planning to see what work was available in her usual haunts. Loaded up with tobacco at Farrer Colony, went to set navigation to the Dvorsi system. War? That was unusual...
Fowler Orbital loomed before her. As the auto dock took the ship in, she idly cycled through contacts, to see what was landed.
Cymbeline. Type-9. Imperial Supply.
Odd Reason. Adder. Sir Mackis.
Danger of Death. Fer-de-Lance...
She gaped, slammed her gauntleted fists into her thighs and flung her head back.
"You have got to be kidding me!" she shouted to the air as the ache constricted her chest, "you have got to be fucking kidding me!"
Worn down by several hours of fighting in conflict zones, Mikael docked at Fowler Orbital for some R&R. Rather than just head for the nearest bar, he changed out of his RemLok into his favourite black denims and spent some time wandering round the art galleries and museums on the station. Not normally his thing, but he wasn't feeling normal right now.
Eventually, tired and hungry, he caught the monopod back to the docking ring, watching the tunnel lights flash by hypnotically. Alighting at the station, he half-noticed a figure bundled up in a corner, wrapped in a hooded cape. Odd place for a vagrant or panhandler to be. Not very warm and not much passing footfall. He had reached the hanger entrance when he heard footsteps behind him. He tensed and turned slowly, one hand creeping towards the riot gun in its concealed holster.
"Mikael?" A woman.
He took his hand away from the gun. He had never heard a voice so full of fear.
The cloaked figure from the station stood behind him. A kitbag over one shoulder. He stared as it hesitantly reached up and threw the hood back. Blonde hair, lovely face decorated with abstract skinprints, but the expression was distressed. He jerked back in shock.
"Cody!"
She simply stood there, shaking. He slowly extended a hand, watching her tense.
"Don't run..." he pleaded as he made contact. Then her arms were around him, almost knocking him over with the impact.
He hugged her back, face in her hair. She smelt very good, all clean and fresh.
"That was you, in the station?" He felt her nod.
"Hell's teeth, woman, how long have you been there?"
"A few hours," came the reply, muffled by his shoulder. She turned her head and her skin touched his. She was very cold.
"You're fucking crazy, Cody. Why?"
He reached out a hand and hit the door control. He looped an arm round her and guided her into the hangar.
"I....just wanted to see you again."
"Oh, Cody. Let's get you inside, you're freezing!"
She nodded and raised her head. He watched her face suddenly light up as she saw Danger of Death.
"Oooh...the famous Dixie Fer-de-Lance! Always wanted to see one of these close up."
"Well, you do now. Guided tour, free of charge."
She managed a smile. "Other girls go nuts for shoes and handbags. This girl prefers starships!"
He got the heaters running and sat Cody down on one side of a table folded down from the wall of the bridge. After hanging her cloak over the chair back, she unzipped the bag; a clinking sound betrayed the contents. A large bottle of red thunked onto the table.
Already, Cody seemed more animated. Clothed in a faded grey sweatshirt and black leggings.
"Get some glasses, Dixie," she called as he went into the galley. He returned a few minutes later with glasses and two chef-printed pasties, still steaming.
"Eat. Then we drink," he said, unceremoniously plonking himself down on the other side of the table.
Fed, and and a glass of wine in, he sat back and regarded her.
"You have no idea how good it is to see you," he murmured, studying her face.
"Likewise," she said, looking right back at him.
"How did you find me?"
"Pure chance. Came here to make some moolah and there you were."
He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
She lowered her gaze.
"Do you believe in fate, Mikael?"
He blinked. "Don't know. Never really thought about it. And yourself?" She sat back and drained her glass.
"I don't know! I don't know any more!" She spoke with a vehemence that startled him. "Ever since I became a pilot, I've had this series of inexplicable coincidences involving people! The mentor I wasn't supposed to meet. The mother I never knew I had. You!"
He reached out a hand. She took it.
"Cody..."
"In a galaxy this big with untold billions of people, what are the chances of this shit occurring? Astro-fucking-nomical! And still it happens!"
"Well, you know the old saying? Once is a coincidence, twice is unfortunate, three times is a conspiracy."
She stared at him and suddenly gripped his hand so tight it hurt.
"Gods below, Dixie! Don't make me any more paranoid than I am!"
"Erm. Mr. Hand says 'ouch'."
She looked down and stared at her white-knuckled hand round his, slowly eased off, but kept hold. Mikael swallowed, but filled her glass again. She closed her eyes and seemed to wilt.
"Conversation is just getting good, don't flake out on me!"
Her eyes flicked open and she laughed. Took another mouthful of red and carefully let go of his hand. Cody stood and wandered around the bridge, covetously touching and stroking the fittings and controls, sipping wine as she went.
"Nearly bought one of these. Went for the Chieftain instead. How's she fly?"
Mikael watched her move and sighed to himself.
"Fast, manoeuvrable and shooty as hell. Cargo capacity and jump range suck, but that really doesn't matter. How do you find the Chieftain?"
"Bluntly, more versatile than one of these, lot more internals. Acceleration leaves a bit to be desired, but I have two burst lasers and four multi-cannons on her. Once the target's shields go down, they get shredded!"
She leant on the back of the pilot's chair. "Had a couple of ropey moments though when the multis suddenly run out of ammo. And you're neck deep in combat, so you can't afford to be distracted by synthesis..."
He grinned. "Never run out ammo in this thing yet. Mind you, that monster multi doesn't fire at quiiiite the same speed."
She turned and leant against the back of the pilots chair.
"So what are you doing here, Dixie?"
"Originally to get my rank up with the Imperial naval auxiliary."
"Any particular reason?"
"Yes. I bought myself a Gutamaya Clipper last week."
"Seriously? You must know a Python is far more practical!"
"Bugger practicality. It's big, fast, manoeuvrable and pretty. Besides, I think you're just a bit biased, Miss Python Owner."
"Yeah, okay, guilty as charged. Bought another one not long ago."
"What? Why?" he said with mock horror.
"Mining, you cheeky git. Full mining kit loadout and one gimballed beam laser."
"Fair enough. Not going to say anything about mining being boring..."
Cody groaned at the pun.
"...and I can hardly talk. I do like to do a little planetside scavenging now and then. Not everyone's cup of tea!"
Cody shifted, tipped the remaining wine into her mouth and regarded the empty glass critically.
"Anyway. So you're still here chasing rank?"
He shook his head. "Not really. Been doing merc work in conflict zones, ever since the Order of Mobius decided to stick their noses in."
"You're siding with Dvorsi Empire Assembly?" She ambled back across to the table, sat and waggled her glass. Mikael obligingly topped it up again.
"Yes. Been coming here for a while, doing work for them. They pay very well. I've nothing against the Mobius lot as such, but it doesn't feel right, someone else running this system."
Cody muttered something under her breath, looking mildly annoyed.
"Did I say something wrong?" Mikael said mildly.
Cody sighed and took his hand again.
"No, Mik. Just more amazing coincidences. I came here to run support missions for exactly the same reason."
"What would be your prediction?"
"Mobius don't mess around when they want more elbow room. I don't really rate the Assembly's chances."
"Guess I'm wasting my time here, then," he said sourly.
"Not necessarily."
"Yeah, combat bonds, rep, blah blah blah. Maybe I'll go back to Jameson and switch to the Clipper. Just wander about."
Cody necked her wine.
She can put it away all right, he thought.
Before he could refill her glass, it clicked onto the table.
"Need the little pilot's room. Right back!" She pushed her chair back and trotted through the door at the rear of the bridge.
Mikael let out a breath and rubbed his eyes.
Is this really happening?
Cody quietly returned. It was pleasantly warm on the bridge now and she began to shrug her way out of her sweatshirt. Glimpse of flesh...Mikael uncomfortably averted his eyes.
A hand took his again.
"Feel free to look, Mik. Though you might not like what you see."
He brought his head up. She wore a close-fitting black vest top that accentuated her slender frame and small, neat breasts. But it was the heavily scarred biceps that drew the eye. He silently studied the abused skin and finally meeting her gaze.
"Every scar tells a story," he said without emotion, passing his free hand over his cheek.
"You first," she replied. He looked away again.
"Just a little argument with an ex," he muttered. She glared at him over the rim of her glass.
"Now that is so much B.S. Out with it!"
"Okay." He grinned at her. "But you may not like what you hear." That earned him a playful kick under the table.
Took a deep breath, then outlined his recent past. His fall into crime, the time inside and the damage to his eyes and brain. The meeting and fight with Anmarie. It all seemed a long time ago now.
"And that pretty much destroyed my faith in people. Especially women."
There was a long silence as Cody absorbed it all. She released his hand and patted it. Touched the two thick scars on her right arm. "This is where the story begins," she said, then moved to the puckered tissue on her left arm, "This is where it ends...and all the rest in between."
Speaking haltingly, she described her own journey, from the party on Obsidian Orbital, through her years of dissipation to the fight in the bar.
"And since then, I've walked alone. I've never trusted anyone enough since."
Their gazes met. "Until now."
Mikael swallowed as she closed her hand on his again. He couldn't take his eyes from hers. He felt like prey hypnotised by a snake.
"Do you trust me, Mikael?"
"You stood next to me in what might otherwise have been a very nasty fight. You didn't have to. You've opened up to me and listened to my less than admirable past without judging. So yes. I trust you."
There was a long pause, their eyes still locked.
"Good."
She rose from her seat slowly and moved around the table. Drew him up from his chair until they were mere inches apart. Took his face in her hands.
"Cody..." he whispered apprehensively, "...please don't feel you have to -"
She hushed him.
"Two things, Mikael. One: I'm called Ophelia."
"That's a beautiful name."
"Sweet-talker. And two: this isn't about what I want or what you want. It's about what we both need."
He slowly put his arms around her, heart pounding. She kissed him lingeringly.
"If it helps - think of it as spiritual healing."
He recovered his wits somewhat.
"So...how far down do those skinprints go?"
She kissed him again.
"You're about to find out."
They lay entwined in the afterglow. He stroked her hair and regarded her in wonderment.
"Destroying or falling or whatever," he murmured, "but you're most definitely an angel."
"People keep calling me that," voice muffled as she nuzzled his neck, "I don't know why."
"Maybe because it's true?"
"Bollocks."
"Sorry. You don't get a say in this one. You're an angel. So there."
She sighed and rested her head on his chest.
"At least you've made me feel like a normal person. Even if just for a little while."
"The night isn't over yet, Ophelia. Plenty more time to feel normal."
She chuckled. "Men! All the same!"
"Excuse me? Who seduced who earlier?"
Still laughing. "Piss off, Mikael!"
"Nah. Quite happy where I am."
She snuggled closer. "Glad to hear it."
Mikael awoke as something bumped his arm. Next to him, Ophelia was twitching and writhing, mumbling and groaning in her sleep. Sweat poured from her skin.
Bad dream, he thought, really bad dream. He reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder.
Morning came and she was curled into a foetal ball. He started as she woke with a gasp and lay there, her breathing fast and laboured. After a few minutes, she slowly uncurled, limbs shuddering. Finally she sat up and stared into nothingness.
"Ophelia?"
She regarded him sadly.
"Mikael....I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I have to go."
He looked at her pale, tormented face.
"Ophelia...."
"I need to get back to my ship, to my safe place. Otherwise I will start to freak out." He nodded and touched her hand. She clambered out of the bed, scooped her clothes from the floor and headed into the bathroom.
They embraced, just inside the hanger entrance.
"Oh, Mikael. I feel awful, leaving like this."
"Talk to me. Am I going to be the next scar on your arm?"
"No! They were all just about losing myself in pleasure. This meant something."
"Then what's bothering you?"
"Because of what comes next. I'm going to break your heart, aren't I?"
He held her tighter, as she started to sob.
"Ophelia...It's okay."
"You've seen a bit of the other me, Mik. Did I wake you at all?"
"Yeah..."
"Nightmares, every night, all night. And that's just the start of it. As you said, fucking crazy. I'm a mess. I like you a lot, Mikael and that's why I can't make you live with that."
"I understand. But can't I help you? Get treatment or something?"
"NO!" Her shout shocked them both.
"It scares me rigid, Mikael. They'll put things in my brain to control me and I won't be me any more."
"You must know that's nonsense."
"Is it?"
He couldn't answer that.
"I'd rather we parted on a high, Mik. Not a low when you can't stand my weirdness any more. Trust me, you'd get sick of it. Gods below, I get sick of it. Every day..."
He held her until the weeping abated. She wiped her eyes and stepped back.
"Gotta go," she said. He opened the hangar door.
"See you when I see you, Mikael," she said quietly, "maybe take me for a ride in that Clipper."
A lump in his throat.
"Go in peace, Ophelia," he replied, "and one last thing..."
"Yeah?"
He bowed his head respectfully.
"Thank you."
She had started to move away, but came back and their lips met one last time. She walked over to the monopod station, reached the entrance. Looked back once and winked.
Gone.
Mikael made his way back into the Fer-de-Lance in a daze. Returned to his cabin, took off his boots, carefully folded trousers and jacket onto a chair. Crumpled onto the bed and buried his face in the sheets that held her fragrance. He lay there for a long time, tears silently soaking into the bedclothes.
Back aboard Falling Angel, Ophelia forced herself to take a shower and don her RemLok, to become Kodeyne again.
Settled into the pilot's seat, looked out of the cockpit as the landing pad rose out of the hanger
"Oh Mikael," she sighed.
Launched, out of the station as fast as she could. Didn't look at the contacts panel to see if Danger of Death was still docked. She hadn't even bought any cargo. Out of the no fire zone and into witch-space, heading for a system on the edge of Imperial space. Time to immerse herself in work again, try to block out the demons. Her latest ship, Hellebore, awaited, to go hide amongst the tumbling rocks of a ring system.
The Imperial Clipper Sublime Machine settled down in a cloud of dust. After a couple of minutes, it deployed an SRV. Mikael stared out at the barren, red-stained landscape. Suontaka. This was where he always came when he needed some thinking time. Just amble around in the red dust, poking around to see what he could find.
He wasn't angry with Ophelia, far from it. She had been right; it had been something they both needed at that precise moment. They had parted with a sense of tenderness, which would endure. But now he just wanted to contemplate things. He let out a long exhalation and the SRV rolled off into the ruddy terrain.