Solfleet: The Call of Duty (65 page)

The station commander
had called him to report that Squad Sergeant Dylan Graves and a young Army
corporal by the name of Bethany DeGaetano had been wounded while apparently
trying to prevent a kidnapping in the sergeant’s housing complex. But he’d
clearly been reluctant to make that report and Hansen had had to press him—had even
had to pull rank on him, in fact, which was something he tried to avoid doing
whenever possible—in order to get anything more out of him. But even as he
talked, his deep regret had shown in his eyes.

Hansen had
been surprised to learn that Royer had found and arrested the fugitive Stefani
O’Donnell right there in Tarko City—why hadn’t she told him anything about
that?—and had been utterly shocked about two seconds later when the station
commander further informed him that she’d left Cirra without her. Instead of
throwing her in irons and arranging to bring her back to Earth like she should
have, Royer had turned her over to the Tarko City agents. They in turn had
moved her into an apartment directly across from Graves about a week and a half
ago, per Commander Royer’s orders, and had been conducting surveillance on the both
of them ever since. More than that and perhaps worst of all, Royer had ordered
them to keep everything from him and report only to her.

He was growing
angry all over again just thinking about it. He drew a deep breath to calm
himself. If Liz eventually turned up alive and well—and he sorely wanted to
believe,
needed
to believe, that she would—she was going to have some
serious explaining to do.

The Next Night

Saturday, 25 September 2190

Commander
Royer hadn’t traveled outside the solar system in so long she’d forgotten the
true depth of her loathing for interstellar travel. Especially those weeks-long
deep,
deep
space voyages, like the one she’d
finally
just returned
home from. If she never had to take another trip like that again, it would be
too soon.

As usual,
she hadn’t slept very well at night during either leg of the trip, especially
after that relatively short-lived but nonetheless nerve rattling attack—had it
been anything more than just a pair of scout ships, they might well have lost a
lot more than communications—and she felt completely exhausted. Sure, Cirra had
been a beautiful world and all. Incredibly beautiful in fact. She had
especially enjoyed flying over the deep blue forests and the rocky, snow-capped
mountain ranges that rose high through the billowy clouds. Their awe-inspiring
majesty had been nothing less than magnificent. But it had taken nine days just
to get there, her mission had turned into something more complicated and much
more deeply covert than she’d expected, and it had taken another nine days to
get back home, once she was finally able to leave. The whole trip had lasted
twenty-eight days in all, and even though she’d expected right from the beginning
to be gone for at least a month, it was still too much. She was
so
glad to
be home.

Home?
Mandela Station wasn’t her real home, of course. At least not to the extent
that it had become Admiral Hansen’s. Her
actual
home and official home of
record was a small town just outside Kansas City. But among other things,
Mandela Station housed Solfleet Central Command Orbital Headquarters, which had
been her permanent duty assignment and her and Karen’s home
away
from
home for more than nine years. So, yes. For all intents and purposes she was
home.

Considering
the duration of the trip, she’d traveled relatively lightly as usual, not
wanting to load herself down with extra luggage full of stuff she’d probably
end up not needing anyway. At least, that was what she’d told herself she was
doing when she packed. But as she left the passenger terminal behind and made
her way back through the station’s familiar corridors toward her quarters, the
twin carry-on bags that had made up the entirety of her luggage seemed to grow heavier
with every step. Especially the one weighing on her right shoulder, which still
felt sore where she’d slammed it against the wall during the attack. She was
beginning to wonder if the strap might actually saw her arm off, right through
her black pleather jacket.

But their
weight was nothing compared to that of the other burden she’d brought back with
her—a mental burden she would happily exchange for another heavy suitcase if
she could. The admiral had been against it from the very beginning, even though
not doing it would have meant finally facing the consequences that had been looming
over their heads for the last six years. But she’d argued relentlessly until he
finally acquiesced and gave her his authorization. Knowing without a doubt that
she was right, she’d gone forward with her plan immediately upon his surrender,
only to watch it fail. That failure had forced her to take matters into her own
hands and go to even more extreme measures, but so far as she knew those
measures weren’t proving to be any more effective than the first ones. The
admiral had been right all along.

So what was
she going to tell him now?

A left turn
and an immediate right, then around the double bend in the corridor and her
quarters were just ahead. Finally, she’d made it. She was so looking forward to
surprising Karen. After conversing with Sergeant Graves in his hospital room,
she’d called her wife and told her that she might be away for as long as twice
what she’d planned, so Karen, who’d been driven to tears by that call, wouldn’t
expect her home for another month yet.

She dropped
her bags just inside the door as it closed behind her, then slipped off her
jacket and tossed it over the back of the nearest chair as she kicked off her
shoes. “Karen?” she called. There was no response. She glanced at her watch.
2130 hours. Surely Karen wasn’t asleep already. She never went to bed before
2200. Especially on a Saturday night.

She let down
what little bit of hair hadn’t already fallen free of her barrettes—it had
grown quite a bit over last month—and shook it out as she sauntered into the
bedroom. Nothing. She checked the bathroom. Same result. Karen wasn’t home.

She headed straight
for the bed—her own fresh, clean, neatly made bed—and pitched forward face-down
with a single bounce onto the semi-firm mattress like a tree falling to a soft
forest floor. She sighed. Loudly. It was good to be home. 2130 hours. An
extra-early bedtime and a nice long night’s sleep were just what she needed,
though Karen would doubtlessly wake her up whenever she came in.

The mere thought
of sleep made her yawn and she was tempted to let herself drift off on top of
the blankets just as she was. No doubt she could have done so quite easily. But
she’d been wearing the same clothes, not to mention the same underclothes, for
the past twenty-two hours—she’d skipped the day’s workouts—and the last thing
she wanted to do was sleep in them for eight or nine more. So, as soon as she
could muster the energy to move, she rolled to the side of the bed and stood up
to get undressed.

She stripped
down to nothing, tossing her clothes into a pile on the floor in front of her
dresser, then faced the bed and turned down the blankets. She could hardly wait
to lose herself between the sheets and bury her tired head deep in her
over-stuffed pillow. But she desperately needed a shower, and as enticing as
the sight of her bed was at that moment, she just couldn’t bring herself to
climb into it without one. So, without another second’s thought, she padded
drowsily into the bathroom.

She set the
temperature to slightly warmer than lukewarm so it would be more soothing than
invigorating, then closed her tired eyes, stepped in under the lightly
pulsating stream, and let the water pour down over her until her hair was
soaked. Then she squirted a palm full of soap into her hand, and as she
lathered up she thought about how wonderful a nice long bubble bath would feel.
She almost decided to take one, but her bed was still calling out to her so she
quickly reconsidered. Besides, she was a little afraid that if she did take a
bath she might fall asleep in the tub, and drowning wasn’t very high up on her
list of things to do in life.

She finished
her shower and toweled off quickly—she didn’t feel like standing under the blow
drier—then headed back into the bedroom. She went straight to the bureau,
opened the top drawer, and reached in for a clean set of pajamas, but then
hesitated before grabbing any. Karen was going to be thrilled to find her home
when she came in. No way was she
not
going to wake her up to give her a
proper welcome. Royer grinned at the thought and left the pajamas where they
were, closed the drawer, and climbed into bed without putting anything on.

She rolled
onto her side to face the door and pulled the blankets up over her shoulder,
nearly covering her head as well. The sheets felt cool but not
too
cool,
clean and soft against her bare skin, and as her head sank deeper into her pillow,
the light dampness where her hair pressed against her cheek didn’t bother her
in the least. “Lights off,” she said quietly.

A darkness deeper
than that of interstellar space itself instantly filled the room. She drew a
deep breath and relaxed as her hair rinse’s mildly intoxicating floral
fragrance took effect and she started her journey into unconsciousness. She
felt almost as though she were weightless, or as though she could leave her
physical body simply by choosing to do so. The world around her grew ever more
distant as she drifted off into nothingness. Drifting...drifting...

The bedroom
door slid open and a gleaming shaft of light poured in from the living room and
fell across the center of the bed, piercing the darkness like a golden beam
from Heaven. “Liz!” Karen’s silhouette exclaimed with excitement as it rushed
to her.

Liz threw
off the blankets and greeted her elated wife with outstretched arms. “Hi, baby.”

Karen
practically jumped into the bed and threw her arms around her wife and rolled
over her and pulled her over on top of her and kissed her. “Oh my God, Liz! I’ve
been worried sick about you!”

“What? Why?”

“Why!” Karen
exclaimed. “Because your ship’s been missing for over a week! Nobody even knew
if you were alive or dead!”

“Oh, that,” Liz
said. “It was just a communications problem.” Karen didn’t need to know
anything more.

“
We
didn’t
know that!” Karen replied. “Oh my God, I missed you so much!” She kissed her again,
and again. “Welcome home, baby.” And she kissed her again.

“Thanks.”

They kissed
again and Karen slid her hand down over Liz’s bare bottom. “You’re not wearing
anything,” she said with a smile.

“No, I’m
not,” Liz repled, smiling back.

As they kissed
some more, Liz pushed Karen’s top up to her armpits, then slipped her hand inside
her bra and gently squeezed her breast. But Karen grasped her wrist and pulled
her hand back out, then rolled her onto her back.

“No, you’re
tired after your trip,” she said softly, almost whispering. “Tonight is all for
you. Just lie back and enjoy it.”

Liz
stretched her arms out across the bed and dragged her hands up to the sides of
her pillow. After four weeks away from home, she was indeed going to enjoy it.
She was going to enjoy it more than ever. What a heavenly way to drift off to
sleep.

Karen
stripped off her clothes and tossed them away, then leaned down and lightly
kissed both sides of Liz’s neck, her collar bones, the little ‘v’ at the base
of her throat. Then she slowly worked her way down across her breasts, gently
biting and licking and suckling on her nipples, which quickly stiffened at her
tongue’s touch. She threw the blankets down past the foot of the bed then
resumed kissing and licking and nibbling her way slowly down Liz’s torso and through
her fine crown of soft golden hair to the warm, moist flesh between her legs.

Liz spread
her legs and purred with pleasure as her wife gently, lovingly, did what she
had always done so well. Before long those purrs grew into quiet moans of
ecstasy, not all of them quite under her breath.

Three quick
beeps from the comm-panel startled her back to full consciousness. “
Admiral
Hansen to Commander Royer,
” it said.

Her next
moan emerged as one of extreme
dis
pleasure as Karen stopped what she was
doing and rested her head atop one of Liz’s legs with a sigh. “Please tell me I
didn’t just hear what I just heard,” Liz implored aloud.

“
Admiral
Hansen to Commander Royer,
” the speaker repeated. “
Have you made it home
yet, Commander?
”

It was
almost 2200 hours on a Saturday night. He wouldn’t still be working. Would he?

“
Admiral
Hansen to Commander Royer,
” he called again. “
If you can hear me, Liz,
please respond. Otherwise, give me a call at the office as soon as you get in.
I’ll be here until about twenty-three hundred.
”

She sighed.
Apparently he would be, and he was. She propped herself up on one elbow and
reached over to the panel, made sure the unit was set for audio only, and then touched
her thumb to the answer pad. “Commander Royer here, sir,” she responded
unenthusiastically.

“
Ah, you
are there. Good. Welcome back, Liz. Sorry to bother you this late, but I’ve
been three times as busy as usual since you left and the next two days are
already booked solid. Would you mind coming up to the office tonight and
briefing me on your trip, so...
”

“Do we
have
to do that tonight, sir?” she interrupted, sharing the disappointment that shone
so evidently in Karen’s eyes, even in the relative darkness. “I’m already in
bed.”

“
Oh,
”
he said after a moment, apparently having just guessed what he’d done. “
Uh...
Sorry, Liz. I didn’t even think about... No, we don’t have to do it tonight.
But I’ll tell you what. I know what these long trips do to you, so if you come
brief me tonight, you can sleep in and not worry about coming to the office for
the next morning or eight, barring any dire emergencies.
”