Reunion
17 Sep 2021Kodeyne
Any pilot gets used to stars. Constant companions, navigational essentials, a place to refuel and something that will kill you if you let your attention slip.Ophelia had seen most types of star in her travels, but there was always a little shiver when her ship dropped out in humanity's system of birth. Father Sol. Bringer of light, giver of life.
She let out a shuddering breath as the ship headed towards Mercury; the high-pitched shriek coming from the frame shift drive had gotten worse with every jump. Despite her best efforts to repair Devil's Daydream, it was still badly damaged from the ambush that had nearly killed Alison and her. After the first jump, they had both taken to wearing their RemLok helmets because of the persistent smoke and stench of burning. But Ophelia had faith. In all her years of piloting, the Asp Explorer had never let her down.
None the less, there was an overwhelming sense of relief as they exited supercruise, and Daedelus appeared before them. She had never been so glad to see a starport in her life.
A squad of armed Federal Security Service officers entered the hanger as soon as they landed. Ophelia and Alison exited the battered ship.
"Where's the fugitive, Commander?" said the sergeant. Ophelia jerked a thumb at the Asp.
"Cargo hold, escape pod," she replied, and tapped at her wristerm to manually open the cargo hatch and release its contents.
The pod swung to the ground on cables; magnetic clamps detached and it banged to the floor.
"Thank you, Commander," said the sergeant. She knelt by the pod and initiated the opening sequence. After a few minutes, there was a long hiss and the lid slowly opened. The police immediately surrounded the capsule, readying a mix of laser and machine carbines.
The occupant was lifted from the pod, still half-comatose from the suspended animation sequence. None the less, he was awake enough to respond to the shouted command of "Hands!"
As he was cuffed and searched, Ophelia saw his face. Blonde hair, prominent cheekbones. She drew in a breath.
"Recognise him?" murmured Alison.
"Yes. He's the one who shot me."
Alison looked at the man, and slipped an arm round Ophelia's waist, but appeared to be patting her across the back.
"What are you doing, Alison?"
"Where's your dagger, Ophelia?"
She firmly took Ali's hand and moved it away. "No. There's only room for one knife-wielding maniac in this relationship."
"Oh, I wasn't going to try and kill him," Ali said, eyes wide, "just, you know, cut him a little..."
The police had acquired quite a stash of concealed weapons and devices from the man. As they led him away, he glanced at the two women. Ophelia half-expected a snarl, or a knowing smirk; but there was only the face of a man who knew he was defeated.
They picked their way through the debris that littered the central corridor of Devil's Daydream. Broken storage racks, smashed cartons of food, burnt and reeking.
"My poor little ship..." Ophelia lamented. Back in the cockpit, she contacted the shipyard to begin the process of repairs. Just as she was finishing, Alison called from somewhere else in the Asp.
"Ophelia, are you still on the comms?"
"Just done, why?"
"I think you'd better book us a hotel room. We can't stay here!"
Their cabin was just as trashed as the rest of the ship. A laser shot had punched straight in, and whilst the hull sealing system had stopped any depressurisation, the resulting fire had pretty much destroyed the clothing they had brought on board.
"Oh, Ali..." Holding the tattered, charred remains of a favourite t-shirt.
There was very little left to salvage. They had other garments elsewhere, of course, but right now it really was just the clothes they stood in, their RemLoks.
Ophelia went and got Caractucus from his place in the cockpit, and they quietly left the ship, even as mechanics began to filter into the hanger, towing carts of equipment behind them.
The Solar Temple hotels were a high-end chain exclusive to the Sol system. Even at Daedelus, the clientele usually consisted of well-heeled business types or rich tourists wanting to do the whole Solar System tour. So the receptionist was a little startled to look up from his terminal to see two very dishevelled, tired-looking women in flight suits, one of whom was carrying a potted cactus. But he was a pro, and directed them to their room without comment.
The suite's central area was dominated by a circular glass table with curved mahogany legs, the glass laser-etched with an ornate smiling Sun. Ophelia carefully set Caractucus down in the exact centre. "There we go, wee spiky dude, pride of place!" Comfy chairs and sofas, upholstered in chocolate brown cloth.
A bedroom with a generously-sized bed was off to the right, and the ensuite had a shower and the biggest bathtub Alison had ever seen.
They stood for a moment, gazing at each other. Then Ali shook herself, looked around for the room's terminal.
"I'll order us some clothes," she said, "nothing fancy, just to put us on... "
"Aye," agreed Ophelia , "but first things first... "
Room service efficiently provided two very cold bottles of rose wine. They polished one off in short order, took their time with the other.
Alison finished buying garments: underwear, comfy casual clothes and pyjamas. A large cupboard on one wall swung open as Ophelia touched a switch. They wearily divested themselves of their RemLoks, placed them into the wall space where the suits would be sanitised. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of fatigue and old sweat, Ali padded into the bathroom and prodded the controls for the tub. Warm, fragrant, frothy water began to swirl into it. They both discarded their undergarments and eagerly entered the bath, settling their heads into the padded rests so their bodies could float in the soothing water.
It was only when the clothing was delivered some thirty minutes later that they got out and wrapped themselves in thick, fluffy white towels. As Ali was sorting the garments, Ophelia walked past and caught her in a gentle embrace; pressed her nose against Alison's and gazed into her eyes for a few moments before kissing her and heading back to the bathroom.
Wine and warm bath had had the desired effect and it was not long before Ali slowly threw back the sheets and rolled into the bed, groaning with the simple pleasure of flopping out when one is totally exhausted. It was not long before Ophelia slipped in beside her, rested a weary head on a pillow, put an arm around her waist. They were both fast asleep in minutes.
The fuzzy haze of sleep slowly lifted from Alison's eyes and she rolled over to find herself alone in the bed. Sat up and saw Ophelia sat at the dressing table, reading her datapad.
"Morning, petal," Ophelia said, looking a bit dejected.
"What's up?"
"Message from the shipyard. Devil’s Daydream is going to be in the workshop for at least a week."
"Not like we're in a rush to get anywhere now, is it? So you might as well come back to bed."
"Nope. Time to get up, dear. We're required to attend the local FedSec precinct."
"Er, why?"
"More information on our recent escapades, I suspect."
The view was from the cockpit camera; the design of the canopy identified it as a big Lakon ship.
Supercruise changed to realspace and Mikael's voice spoke.
"Target acquired. Locking on, launching fighter..."
The T-10 swung round and the grey rhombus of the assassins' Phantom appeared, trailing debris and ash.
"Opening fire. Target engines and FSD."
Ophelia shivered, remembering that the hitmen had done just that to them.
"Aye aye, Commander," replied a female voice.
It wasn't really much of a fight. The guns of Mikael's ship and those of its fighter pounded the wounded Phantom.
"I suppose I should give them the chance to eject," he muttered, "but you know what? Fuck it." There was a dark note to his voice Ophelia has never heard before.
On the screen, the camera shook as the ship engaged boosters. The Phantom came rushing towards them and disintegrated as the T-10 ploughed straight through it.
Flipping lazily back over to face what remained.
"Scanning for life signs," he reported, "Annabel, take the fighter in and have a good poke through the wreckage."
After a few minutes of sifting, the GU-97 turned and headed back to its mothership. “Nothing, Commander.”
"Target has been eliminated. No survivors. Get that fighter back on board. Going to be a bit of haul back to Sol!"
The screen went dark, and the room lights came on. Alison slowly released Ophelia's hand and let out a breath.
"Thank you for taking the time to come see this," said the FSS sergeant, a dark-skinned woman only a little older than they were, "With them dead and the other one in custody, I think any threat to yourselves has been eliminated..."
They left the precinct and stood on the schedule of the promenade, both feeling a bit light-headed with unspoken relief. The everyday crowds seemed to stream past in a blur.
Alison blinked. "Hmm, well, what now? Maybe some lunch and a few drinks to celebrate?"
Ophelia smiled. "By some strange coincidence, we've got an invite for just that."
"Really? From who?"
"You'll see."
It was a rather plush and exclusive eatery, with private dining rooms located behind the main restaurant.
Wood-panelled walls, soft, non-slip flooring in grey and gentle light from concealed lanterns.
As the maître d' ushered them in, a figure rose from behind the teak table.
Mikael was dressed in black jeans and shirt, usual warpaint removed and freshly-shaven. Without even thinking, Ophelia went straight to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.
"You saved us," she murmured, "oh gods below, you saved us. Thank you so so much."
Mikael hugged her, senses thrilling at the feel of her lithe body against his again.
"How could I not?" he answered, grinning.
"Oh Mikael..."
"Now," he said, "aren't you going to introduce me to this other delectable young lady? Who, by the way, is giving us a very strange look."
Ophelia gasped and slowly disengaged herself from him, taking a few steps back.
"Uh, Ali, this, uh, is Mikael, he's, um, an old friend. He was, uh, flying the ship that saved us. And Mikael, er, this is Alison, my -"
"Your other half," he said gently, "I caught that part of the conversation when we dropped out of supercruise."
Ophelia looked back and forth between the two people she loved the most, wringing her hands and feeling the tears welling up. She had never felt so awkward in her entire life.
Alison saw the stress on her face and moved forward, laying a hand on Ophelia's arm.
"It's okay, girl. I've got this." She walked right up to Mikael, her hazel eyes locked on his strange, all-white ones.
"Hello, Mikael," Ali began - then she too embraced him, planting a kiss on his cheek, "Thank you from me as well." Moved back, heart thumping a little harder. It had only been a brief contact, but she had felt the buzz from him, almost animalistic in its intensity. She looked round at Ophelia, mock-fanning her face. "My word, 'Lia," she said, "you should introduce old friends more often!" Ophelia felt the tension drain out of her.
Mikael raised his eyebrows as he looked at the two now-grinning women.
"Well now," he said, feeling quite self-conscious, "if you ladies would be seated, let's get some lunch ordered."
Over wine and canapés, Ophelia, Alison and Mikael chatted.
"How the hell did you know where to find us, Mik?" asked Ophelia.
"Quite out of the blue, I was contacted by a man called Cornelius Monfort. Said he knew you, and you were in peril. Asked me to help because he was aware we were acquainted, and needed someone he could trust."
"Monfort," she murmured, "bless him. Someone else who will be getting a big kiss when I see him next." She smiled, trying to imagine the stoic detective's reaction.
Ophelia had gone to the restroom. Alison cupped her chin in one hand and gazed at Mikael.
"So. What's really the deal between you and 'Lia? I've known her all my life and she virtually never hands out affection like she did with you just then. Old friend, indeed!"
Mikael returned her gaze calmly, shrugged. "We met by chance in a bar somewhere and hit it off. Just after that, we got jumped by some unsavoury types who objected to some kills I'd made as a bounty hunter. She stood and fought by my side.”
"She would," agreed Alison.
"After that, we parted ways, never expected to see her again. Months later, we both wound up on another station on the other side of the bubble. She tracked me down, we had a few drinks, opened our hearts to each other and then she rather expertly seduced me."
"Oh, 'Lia," said Alison, hand over her eyes for a moment, then stared straight back at him. "And was she good?" Mikael paused, interpreting her meaning.
"Yes. No-one has ever made me feel the way she did."
"Likewise. And then?"
"The next day, said that she liked me but couldn't inflict her craziness on me. And that was that. Stayed in occasional touch but I think we both knew it would be best if we didn't meet again."
"And how do you feel now?"
"Pleased to see her and very pleased she has found someone she can be with."
Alison smiled. "We've been very close all our lives, so I'm used to her little idiosyncrasies. When I discovered she was quite willing to die for me, that was when I realised that I loved her..."
Ophelia returned a few minutes later and sat down.
"Well, it all seems sweetness and light between you two," she said, "though I half-expected to come back to find you snogging or strangling each other."
“Why Ophelia, dear,” protested Alison, “What a thing to say!”
Mikael winked at Ali, and watched as a waiter brought in an ice bucket and glasses.
"There are some goods so rare that they aren't available on the open market," he began, as the waiter filled the glasses and quietly withdrew, "and this is one of them. Champagne. The genuine stuff, from the vineyards of France, Earth."
"Mikael!" exclaimed Ophelia, "that must cost a fortune!"
"Hah! I might not be as well off as you, chica, but I can easily afford it. And it felt appropriate for the occasion."
He raised his glass. "And so, a toast. To Ophelia Myshkin - ace pilot, fearless warrior, all-round good egg, and by the general consensus of those present, the best shag in the galaxy!"
Alison burst into peals of laughter as Ophelia went bright red and clapped her hands over her mouth. Mikael was grinning broadly. She glared at each of them. "You - you - you scheming pair of complete and utter gits!"
Mikael happily gave them a lift over to EQ Pegasi, the two of them in the crew seats of In Nomine Mortis, the hulking T-10 that had been their saviour a few days ago. They bid him an emotional farewell and then went to find one of Merbold Ring’s many coffee houses.
They sipped Americanos and looked at each other.
“And so the escapade comes to an end,” said Ophelia finally, “We’re out of danger, he will be getting banged up for the rest of his pathetic existence, and..” she sighed, “...you will need to go back to work and we will be apart again.”
Alison took her hand. “Actually, about that…” Ophelia peered at her. “The institute have been in touch. They’ve been following the case and think the publicity it has generated could be put to good use. So they proposed a new position for me; sort of an ambassador. Travel around, find places where they could set up new shelters, or link up with existing ones and so forth. And they are happy for me to ride shotgun with you, wherever you go.”
Ophelia’s eyes widened. “Oh! That’s just perfect. I don't know what to say!”
“You don’t have to, babe. I’m pretty speechless about it too.”
They rode the express lift down to one of Merbold Ring’s hangers. Alison pondered the fact that she would be spending a lot of the rest of her life aboard a cramped starship and sighed inwardly.
The doors opened and they stepped forward. And Alison’s mouth dropped open as she looked up at what awaited them. And kept looking, and looking, because there was an awful lot of ship to look at. The nameplate said Big Bad Wolf. She sat down heavily on the hanger floor, shaking her head in disbelief. Ophelia, bag over shoulder and carrying Caractucus, turned and looked at her enquringly.
“You feeling okay, girl?”
“Ophelia bloody Myshkin. Just when I think you can’t surprise me any more, you go ahead and do it anyway!”
“You’ll have to explain that one to me.”
Ali gestured at the ship. She had seen them before, usually on news channels when the Federal Navy were off to blow someone or something up.
“This is a Core Dynamics Corvette. It’s a fricking warship! How the hell did you get your hands on it?”
Ophelia looked down and buffed her fingernails on her chest.
“Hard work, my love,” she said modestly, “I happen to be an Admiral in the Federal Navy Auxiliary. Not an actual admiral, of course.”
Alison stood and picked up her bag. “Oh, of course. Just an admiral. Arrgghh! How many more shocks have you got lined up for me?”
A figure awaited them at the foot of the boarding ramp. A handsome woman of early middle age, iron-grey hair cut in a conservative Federation bob, but she spoke with a distinct Imperial accent.
“Ali, this is Harleen Schneider, my fighter pilot.”
They shook hands. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Keenan,” Harleen said, then winked. “Have no fear, I will be absolute soul of discretion, whether the two of you are having a nice night in, or if I’ve managed to pull some hunky young dockworker whilst out on the town…”
They walked down the main corridor of the vessel. Ali studied the austere walls and fittings with a sinking feeling. A warship was not going to be the most convivial place to live and work -
She gaped as the door to their cabin opened. The room made that suite at the Solar Temple hotel look like a hovel. Rich abstract tapestries in muted ochres, yellows, reds and blues adorned the walls. The light fittings were ornately worked stained glass. Furniture of pale wood, upholstered in soft grey Belalans ray leather.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, “this is amazing! How did you...” Ophelia grinned.
“Cut through the bulkhead into the next cabin for extra space, and I found a retired cabin designer from Saud Kruger, and batted my eyelids at him along with a very generous fee.”
Ali slowly paced through the wonderful room and sat down on a very luxurious bed.
“Oh, ‘Lia…”
Ophelia sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Welcome home, dear!”