The novella "Christmas 2690" started out as a very basic short story about Whitney and Glyse finally getting together. It spiralled out from there into a four part tale of death cultists and Christmas traditions and ended up roping in just about all of our key League players.
Overall, this story is a West Isles focused story told almost exclusively from their points of view.
Please enjoy this tale of our disaster children being momentarily happy despite their best efforts to the contrary.
June 22, 2690 - On board the CX Chilkoot
At the start, there was nothing.
Then, a single point of light formed. It grew in focus and intensity until, in a brilliant flash, it exploded and left a field of stars in its wake. Slowly, words faded into existence: “Please select simulation exercise” and a list of options began spooling out beneath the words.
Anya Tyr loved that particular start-up scene on the simulator. It was such a needlessly dramatic thing. She got why they had replaced it with a basic loading bar and a menu screen on later updates, but dammit, on her personal simulator, she wanted the loading screen she had loved. Turns out, she wasn’t the only one who loved it, and the simulator mod community weren’t exactly slouches.
She quickly dug through the list of sims and found the one she wanted, keyed in a few optional parameters, and settled into her seat, stick held loose in her hand. The screen faded to black for a moment before the familiar sight of the Juno Station launch tubes filled her screens. She still loved that station, despite the harm it had done to her.
An automated voice filled her comms with a launch countdown and ahead of her, down the launch tube, a hatch opened showing a sliver of starlight. Anya grinned and tightened her grip on the stick as the voice reached the final five digits.
“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Launch, launch, launch.”
Anya hit the key above her throttle and felt herself shoved back into the seat as her fighter accelerated to its maximum speed in a fraction of a second. As she cleared the tube, the inertial compensation finally caught up with the full force of acceleration. The pressure on her chest eased, and was replaced with joy. She never felt as whole as she did in a fighter ripping through space at unreasonable speeds.
The space just outside Juno Station was awash with ships of all sizes. A line of Confederacy Defense Fleet ships stood between the station and an oncoming Terran Fleet. The simulated voice of a Confed Officer informed her that they needed to keep the Terrans from reaching the station until reinforcements could arrive. They were expected to surface from subspace in 15 minutes. A scrolling timer popped up on her display. She got to work.
Five minutes into the siege, her comm crackled and a new voice flooded her cockpit.
“Hey Anya,” Whitney Antares always managed to sound nervous, even when she had no cause to. “Do you have a second?”
Anya twisted her fighter into a spin to avoid an incoming railgun round and slipped in behind the Siv that had fired it.
“I’m a little bit busy right this second Whit. Can it wait?”
“I… I guess it can?” The younger woman said. She also somehow always managed to sound unsure about everything. Anya made a mental note to have a chat with Riley and Emmy about building their engineer’s confidence.
“Babe, remember how we talked about being assertive? This is the perfect time to put that into practice.”
There was a pause, which Anya used to send enough depleted uranium rounds into the Terran fighter to turn it into an expanding cloud of debris. She heard Whitney draw in a long breath.
“It’s about Glyse,” the younger woman said.
‘By all that’s holy in this galaxy,’ Anyay thought to herself, ‘if that impossibly beautiful idiot broke things off with Whit, I’m gonna kill her. And I’m pretty sure her terrifying brother will help.’
“What about Glyse?” Anya asked out loud.
“Are she and I dating?”
The comment hit Anya like a missile detonation and she sat stock still in the cockpit, completely unaware of the looming bulk of a Confederacy Leviathan-class Battlecruiser growing rapidly in her forward view, or the sudden, repeated hammering of railgun rounds on her fighter. The impact with the cruiser snapped her out of her shock as the simulation ended and her pod hissed open.
Across the simulator room, Whitney was sitting up on a countertop, knees pulled up to her chest, a sim headset in her hands, and an utterly lost look on her face.
“Sorry I ruined your run,” she said in a small voice.
Anya blinked a few times before pulling off her own headset and clambering out of the pod. She walked over to a chiller and pulled out to two bottles of water before joining Whitney on the counter. She offered her one of the bottles. Whitney took it with a sniff but didn’t open it.
‘Ok, Tyr,’ Anyay thought as she sipped from her water. ‘This is one of those moments to be really, really careful.’
She sat her water down beside her and pulled the younger woman into a tight hug.
“Tell me what’s going on, Whit,” Anya said after a moment.
Whitney sniffed and burrowed tighter into Anya’s hug.
“I dunno. We were watching that holo last night and it just kinda clicked that everything the main couple was doing is what Glyse and I do, except for the kissing and the… other stuff.” Anya could almost feel Whitney blushing as she said that. “But we've never said ‘girlfriend’ to each other, or called our plans dates, and I’ve never had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or any kind of romantic partner at all and I don’t even know how you know if you do, or-“
Anya gently reached down and covered Whitney’s mouth with her hand to stop her words from running together into an incoherent jumble.
“Breathe, Whit. You need to remember to breathe,” she said, pulling her hand away. “I’m not really an expert in these things either. I think the only person on this ship who has any real solid experience with any sort of normal relationship is Riley.” Whitney snorted out a short laugh at that and Anya felt herself grin as well.
“I’ll be completely honest with you,” Anya said. “All of us here were already thinking that the two of you were together. We call Glyse ‘Whit’s girlfriend’ more than we use her name. More than we even call her ‘Hot Shot’ anymore.”
Whitney looked up at Anya when she said that.
“You all thought we were… that?” a blush threatened to crash over her face again.
“Babe, no. Just because people are dating doesn’t mean they’re sleeping together. Not everyone enjoys that.” She paused for a second to make sure Whitney was tracking what she was saying. “Besides. Regardless of the status or title of your relationship, what the two of you do or don’t do together is no one’s business but the two of you.”
“I thought it was just assumed that girls would tell their best friends about their…” Whitney hesitated again and Anya fought to keep from laughing at the level of innocence in her friend colliding directly with their current topic. She decided to help Whitney out.
“Yeah, really close friends can have the kind of relationship where they can talk about their sex lives with each other. Hell, I’ve heard more than a few exploits of Emmy’s and far too many of Riley’s.” She looked down at Whitney and saw how wide her eyes had grown and laughed. “Come on, Whit! You know Riley has more than a few regular partners that they hit up whenever their paths cross.”
“I just…” Whitney seemed to be searching for the right words. “I know people have sex and all that, and I know Glyse is like, heart-stoppingly pretty, and I don’t think I’d be unhappy if she and I… but we’ve never even kissed? I don’t even think Glyse likes people touching her? And…” her voice trailed off again and she looked lost.
“Ok Whit, there’s a few aspects of relationships you need to know about, but I’m not the one to talk to about them. Let’s go find Emmy, if you’re ok with that?”
“Yeah, I think that’s ok.”
Walker d’Ardenne and Mikhail Janson were lounging on the overstuffed couches in the communal space on the Chilkoot’s living deck when Whitney and Anya climbed up the ladder from the lower deck.
Janson looked up from his book and nodded at them, while Walker appeared to be engrossed in some simulation on his tablet. He spoke first without looking up.
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
Anya rolled her eyes and from the smirk tugging at Walker’s face, she knew he had caught it somehow.
“The non-masculine part of the crew needs the living room for a bit. You two, out,” she said, carefully pulling out her old squadron leader voice to drive her point home. Janson’s eyes flicked between the two of them and he rose without a word, still reading his book, and climbed the ladder to the bridge. Walker pulled his eyes up from his simulation and looked at the two of them. His eyes rested on Whitney for a moment and Anya almost saw something click in his mind. He stood as well.
“Whit, go knock on Emmy and Riley’s doors for me?” Anya asked. Whitney nodded and walked across the space as Walker approached. She poked him in the sternum lightly. “Not a single word to David about this yet,” Anya said in a whisper.
Walker gave her a look she had rarely seen on his face: genuine concern. “Is it an ending or a course correction?” He asked her in the same whisper.
Anya glanced over his shoulder as Emmy trotted into the room and gave Whit a brief hug.
“It just occurred to our little prodigy that she and Hot Shot might be dating.”
Anya was treated to an even rarer expression flitting across Walker’s face: surprise.
“Huh,” he said and stepped onto the ladder up to the bridge before he turned back to Anya. “I promise, not a word. But you’ll let me know when we need to arrange a trip to Calysto so the two of them can talk?”
Anya gave him a smile and a nod. It was a nice reminder that for all his sociopathic tendencies, Walker did care for his crew. She watched him climb the ladder before turning back to the living room. Riley had emerged at some point and the three of them were bantering about dinner options. Anya found herself grinning and walked over to her dearest friends in the galaxy.
“Alright, here’s what’s up: Whitney needs more than just my perspective on an issue and I’ve kicked the boys out. Let’s get our girl up to speed on dating in the modern galaxy.”
December 21, 2690 - On approach to Corona Astra Station, Calysto System
“Why did I let you three talk me into dressing up for this?” Whitney grumped. From across the aisle of the shuttle, Riley leaned over and thumped her gently on the head.
“Whit, you’re wearing jeans and a blouse. That ain’t dressed up.” they said. “Now, if Emmy had had her way and gotten you into that black slinky number, then you would be dressed up.”
“These jeans are way too tight and this blouse barely has buttons!” Whitney hissed.
Anya leaned in from the seat next to Riley.
“Babe, that’s kind of the point,” she said. “You’re making a statement.”
“Could my statement have included wearing something under this top?”
From the seat next to her Emmy chuckled.
“Nope, not a chance Whit,” she said. “The whole point ah this trip is to set ol’ Hot Shot’s wee heart a’pounding.”
“Besides,” Riley said, “We let you bring your mission bag. If we had taken that away, then you’d be really dressed up.”
Whitney hugged her bag to her chest and gave each of her friends a glare.
“Take my bag away and each of you will find the environmental controls for your quarters definitively fucked with.”
Her three friends sat back in their seats with a laugh.
“I swear to every god,” Whitney muttered, “If this goes badly, I’m gonna be so mad at you three.”
Emmy leaned over and gently bonked her head against Whitney’s.
“Mah girlie,” she said quietly, “If this does somehow go bad, we’re gonna get you absolutely piss drunk and find people to fight. That’s why we came with ya. No one should wander into uncertain waters alone.” She reached over and patted Whiney’s cheek. “And when it goes very right, we’ll be around to drag the happy couple to a celebratory drink before we let you two run off to be all couple-y by yourselves.”
Whitney blushed a deep red.
“Thanks Emmy.”
“Ey, that’s what good siblings are for, Whit.”
‘Having siblings sucks.’ Glyse McKenzie thought to herself as she paced in front of the Martian Flight memorial. ‘If I find out that David set this damn thing up despite all his protests, I will actually kill him this time.’
She could feel the hand of her brother and that bastard d’Ardenne in this. That they had somehow roped Aunt Liz and her Father into the plan was just extra infuriating. Whitney wanted to have some serious talk on Calysto just before Christmas? And her Father had gone out of his way to suggest that she should extend her plus one invite for the McKenzie family barbeque to Whitney? The very barbeque that Liz and Em were finally going to be able to attend after half a decade? It stank of being a damn op.
‘Or at least,’ a nagging little voice in her mind that sounded too much like her mother whispered, ‘you’d rather think that than any of the other options.’ Glyse scowled and kicked at an errant piece of trash. She turned, intending to start pacing back the other direction and stopped dead. At the far side of the memorial plaza were four figures, and the thought popped unbidden into Glyse’s mind that they were in attack formation. She blinked at the thought and it finally occurred to her that the woman in the middle, the one making eye contact with her, was Whitney. After a whispered conversation, the woman to her left gave Whit a small push and her friend started walking, no, stalking towards her.
“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.” Whitney muttered as the four of them approached the Memorial Plaza. Anya gently grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the First Contact mural. Emmy and Riley followed.
“Whitney, listen. You do not have to make any big, sweeping changes to what you two have right now. The reason we’re pushing you here is because if the two of you aren’t on the same page, it’ll rip whatever you do have apart. She deserves to know that your feelings have changed. You deserve for her to have the chance to reciprocate.” Anya gave her a long look. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
Whitney took a ragged breath.
“Ye…yeah. I do. And you’re right, I think. It’s just…” she said.
“You don’t know what her answer will be,” Emmy finished. Whitney nodded, mutely.
“Kiddo,” Riley said, “as much as these talks suck sometimes, you just gotta be willing to jump in and do the hard thing.”
“And we’re here, for moral support, for comfort, or for a push at the right time,” Anya said with a smile. Whitney drew in another breath and set her shoulders. Emmy and Riley shared a fierce grin.
“Let’s do this,” Whitney said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. Anya led them back around the mural and as they stepped around towards the Martian Flight Memorial, she carefully shifted Whitney to the front of the pack. ‘Hot Shot better have the good sense to appreciate her girlfriend taking the lead,’ she thought.
They walked around the last planter and there she was. Hands shoved in the pockets of her leather squadron jacket, wearing worn and faded jeans, and her bright red hair pulled up in a ponytail. She had her back to them, pacing away from their side of the memorial. As they watched, she idly kicked a small bit of trash out of her way before she spun on the ball of one foot, all lithe, effortless grace. Whitney seemed to lock up mid stride as the two women made eye contact.
“Oh my god, oh my god, she even wore the jacket. I… I…” Whitney trailed off, still frozen on the spot. Anya and Emmy exchanged a brief glance.
“Remember when I said that we’re here to give you a push when you need it?” Anya whispered.
“Nononono…” Whitney murmured back.
Anya gave her a big smile, placed her hand on Whitney’s back and pushed her forward. All three stood there and watched as Whitney stumbled a bit and then allowed her moment to carry her directly, if maybe more rapidly than she had intended, directly to Glyse, who was just as shell shocked as Whitney. The two women seemed to collide more than meet in a hug.
Riley threw her arms around Emmy and Anya’s shoulders.
“My sisters, the Astropolis Speakeasy is calling our names. Let’s give our little bird some room to fly.”
Somewhere, in the depths of Corona Astra, a body thumped to the deck, blood from a slit throat pooling around sightless eyes.
Two masked figures stared at the body.
“You didn’t have to kill him!” the short one whispered.
The tall one coughed for a moment before responding.
“The great awakening cannot come to pass without the blood of the decadent to open the gate.”
“But he was a mechanic! That ain’t no more decadent then what you and I were before Father showed us the Sign.”
The tall one spun towards his companion and pushed him up against the bulkhead.
“Do not EVER compare us to trash like this! He served the decadent lambs and provided for their lifestyles! WE were chosen by Father to carve the first wound and let the blood of the corrupt flow.”
The short one blinked repeatedly inside his mask and bowed his head.
“Forgive my weakness. You know I ain’t never released a life.”
The tall one leaned down, pressing his forehead against his companion’s. In any other setting, it would have passed for a loving gesture.
“Then, my brother, the next lamb is yours to release.” He pressed the bloody knife into the trembling hand of his companion. He turned, hefting a bulging duffle bag, and stalked deeper into the bowels of the station.
By the time Glyse and Whitney had untangled themselves, both women were laughing.
“It’s good to see you again, Whit,” Glyse said, momentarily unaware of her arm still around the other woman. “Eight months is too long.”
“Even with all the calls?” Whitney asked, a teasing look in her eyes.
“Calls aren’t the same, and you know it.” Glyse seemed to notice that she was still holding Whitney and slid herself around, placing a hand on each of her friend’s shoulders. “Wow, look at you! Those three pulled out all the stops, huh?”
Whitney blushed, for some reason Glyse couldn’t quite wrap her mind around.
“Yeah, this was the compromise. They wanted me to wear some slinky little black dress.”
“Next time they try that, you should let them. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress, let alone something slinky.” The very direct, almost pointed, eye contact Whitney was making was tickling something in Glyse’s mind.
“I negotiated them down to something I could at least walk in,” Whitney said, before breaking eye contact and slinging her bag around between them. “I also managed to talk them into letting me bring my mission bag. It felt more comfy this way.”
Glyse laughed and took a small step back from Whitney.
“Where’d they go? I figured we’d talk and then you would be grabbing drinks with them.”
“Oh, they probably just went to the bar over there,” Whitney said, gesturing behind her towards the Astropolis. “I wanted some time with you, not just to talk.”
The tickling in Glyse’s mind had grown to full blown itch and she had the sinking feeling that she knew what was coming next. Whitney drew in a long, slow—and definitely not distracting, Glyse thought for a moment—breath.
“My friends have been trying to get me to be more assertive,” she said in a quiet voice.
Glyse cocked her head over to one side, surprised by the sudden change of topic and tone.
“That’s… probably a good thing,” she said, feeling like she was flying without a heading. “Is it working?”
Whitney gave her that piercing eye contact again.
“Let’s see,” she said. “Glyse, we’re dating, aren’t we.”
Glyse’s brain locked up with alerts. She felt like a mental thruster had taken a hit and she was in a spin. She stepped back a bit further, holding her hands up like grav fields.
“No no no, Whit. You don’t want that!” Alarms were screaming in her head.
Whitney kept up the eye contact.
“Maybe, maybe not. I’ve never had a girlfriend, boyfriend, or whatever before. But you know what I do want?”
Glyse felt a rush of fear at where this was going, but she couldn’t help herself. This was Whitney. She couldn’t run away from Whitney. Not again.
“What do you want?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound as terrified as she felt.
“I want you, Glyse McKenzie,” Whitney said, her eyes bright and clear in a way that Glyse couldn’t ever recall seeing before. It occurred to her, suddenly, that this was Whitney out of her shell, without the anxiety and hesitation and fear of failure holding her back and it stirred something that Glyse hadn’t felt before.
“Whitney, I am completely undateable! I'm a fighter pilot for god’s sake! I could die tomorrow and I don’t want you crushed by that!”
“Then don’t die,” Whitney said with a shrug. She had taken a step forward at some point. “You’re good at that. And I really don’t think you’re undateable. You just want yourself to think that.”
“Every romantic relationship I’ve ever had has blown up and ended with me and them not speaking, Whit! I won’t, I can’t, do that with you. Not again.”
“Yeah, you’ve had bad ones before. I’ve sat and let you cry about a couple of them with me years ago, remember? And we’ve already done the whole ‘not speaking’ thing and it kinda crushed us both. Neither of us wants that.”
“Right!” Glyse was desperate to find an ejection lever for this conversation. “I don’t want to lose you again, Whitney! I can’t! And that’s how all my relationships end! I can’t give them what they want, or need, and it blows up and I lose them.”
Whitney had stepped closer again and Glyse suddenly found herself pressed against the memorial statue with nowhere else to run.
“You can’t lose me again? Yse, you hear yourself, right? That’s not friendship talk. Friends come and go. It’s part of life. You’re making my own point for me.” Whitney paused and glanced down at her feet for a moment, some of her usual vulnerability showing through this determined woman. Something in Glyse snapped and she reached for one, last, desperate maneuver.
“You deserve someone who might be interested in that physical side of relationships that I’m just not, Whit.” She felt like she could hear screaming in her head as Whitney reached out and touched her arm.
“Yse, have I ever expressed an interest in that stuff either?” Whitney asked in a gentle tone. “You are the first person I’ve ever felt like this about in my life. I have no idea if I want the physical stuff, with you or anybody. I’m not gonna push you on that. I’d like to try, someday, but only if you want that too.”
“But… what about kids?” Glyse asked in a desperate voice. They both saw that for the obvious dodge it was.
“Yse, I want you right now. We’re both insanely busy and building a real relationship and life together is going to take a lot of work. Down the line, if we decide we want kids, my Mother is an absolute genius. We both know absolute geniuses in other fields. And don’t tell anybody, but I’m pretty damn wealthy now. If we want kids, we can find a way to make that happen.” She smiled at Glyse in a way that made the last bit of resistance crumble. “And if we can’t, there’s plenty of orphans who need adopting in the galaxy.”
‘Fine,’ Glyse thought to herself. ‘If she wants this so badly, I’ll play along until she gets over it and we can go back to the way we were.’ The nagging voice in her mind, the one that sounded suspiciously like her mother, whispered ‘Sure, Glyse. Believe that all you want.’
“Listen, Whit, I’m just a dumb ass fighter jock. My dad’s the one with the words, my brother’s the one with the plans, Auntie is the one with the wits… and you’re too damn smart for me to talk, scheme, or clever my way around this. And as much as I want to punch out of this and just fly away, I’ve run away from you too much already. I won’t do it again. So, fine, girlfriend. We’ll give this a shot. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you get sick of me.” She felt tears burning at the edges of her eyes and saw Whitney blinking them back, too.
“Girlfriend, huh?” Whitney asked with a sniff.
“Yeah, looks that way, Whit.”
“Good. Girlfriend. Am I still allowed to hug you?”
Glyse laughed, despite the swirl of emotions she was fighting.
“Yeah, Whit, you can always hug me.”
The two women embraced, and Glyse was surprised to find herself no longer leaning on the statue, but leaning on Whitney for support.
In the security office of the station, Officer Franz Deitz sat and diligently watched the feeds from his sector of the station. A shape shifted into view on the monitors and Officer Deitz hit a few keys to bring the image up on the main display. His eyes went wide and he knocked his mug of coffee off the desk as he scrambled for his phone.
“Chief, Officer Dietz in cams. There’s a body in Reactor Approach 3.”
The two masked figures, safely obscured from the station cameras by the disruption filters on their masks, slipped into the Reactor room and stared up at the huge structure.
“A monument to their wastefulness, brother,” the tall one said as he placed the duffle bag on the deck plating.
The shorter one was shaking from the adrenaline coursing through him.
“I… I released a fuckin’ life.”
“Yes, brother, you did. And you did it well,” the tall one said. “Father will be proud of you for this.”
The shorter one stood up straighter at those words as the taller one knelt, almost reverently, before the duffle. He reached up and pulled his mask off and the shorter one did the same.
“I speak to those who will comb the ashes of this modern day Babel. We do this not from hatred, or to inspire terror. You are but lambs to be led to the slaughter for a greater purpose. By the spilling of this decadent blood, we carve the first wound in reality that will lead to the opening of the gate and the purifying of us all. By their lives, we will all be free. Let it be known: the Bloodsign is upon you all.”
He unzipped the bag and flipped the switch he found within. Numbers began scrolling rapidly on a display. He pulled a wicked saber from the bag and stood.
“In thirty minutes,” he said, his voice growing louder, “Corona Astra shall be consumed in fiery judgment. Blessed be the Father. Blessed be His Sign.”
“Blessed be the Father,” the shorter one intoned. “Blessed be His Sign.”
In the Astropolis Speakeasy, Anya glanced down at her phone and tapped Emmy and Riley on their shoulders.
“Let’s go check in on our girl,” she said. The two women nodded and together they slipped out onto the promenade, heading towards the Plaza once again.
They had just passed the Charlemagne Remembrance when Emmy’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it and stopped walking. Anya glanced back at her.
“What’s wrong, Emmy?” she asked, seeing a scowl on her friend’s face.
“Didn’t Walker promise not to pry on this one?” Emmy asked. Riley and Anya exchanged a glance.
“Yeah, he did.” Riley said.
“Better answer,” Anya added, a sudden feeling of dread landing in her stomach. Emmy keyed her phone on speaker mode and the three gathered around it.
“Walker, you’re on speaker and you’d better damn well be calling with a problem,” she growled.
Walker’s voice came back calm and collected. His job voice, not his everyday voice.
“Emmy, two radicals just murdered their way into the Astra’s reactor and planted a bomb.”
The three crewmates exchanged glances.
“Station security called you?” Riley asked.
“No. Admiral McKenzie did. After they called him. The Admiral has cleared you four with station security. Their bomb squad is on holiday leave, no one else local is equipped for this, and someone called in a threat over on Freedom Station, so the Marine Bomb Disposal team is occupied.”
“What sort of radicals are we talking about?” Anya asked.
“Bloodsign,” Walker said. They all froze. The Bloodsign was a cult on the fringes of settled space that wanted to tear down reality through human sacrifice. Their typical MO was piracy, but whispers had started to drift down of them taking bolder actions. Something this big was unheard of.
“Bloody hell,” Emmy said. “We can grab Whitney and Glyse. Whit has her mission bag. If anyone can disarm that thing, it’s her.”
“I’ve got a stash down on Yellow deck with vests and weapons,” Riley said. “From the bad ol’ days.”
“Good,” Walker said. “Janson, David, and I are grabbing transport from the McKenzie house, but the bomb has a timer and we won’t make it in enough time to be useful. Briefing coming through once we’re off the call.”
“What’s our timer at,” Anya asked, starting to move deeper into the plaza.
“The lead cultist claimed it was set for thirty minutes. You have 21 left.”
The three ran
Whitney reluctantly pulled back from her hug with her girlfriend, her brain and stomach doing flips at the thought. Glyse was smiling, which was good. She had thought she’d have to fight harder to get through her defenses.
“You’ve got the goofiest grin on your face,” Glyse said.
“Hey, you’re actually smiling, Yse,” Whitney said. “That’s a good sign.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Want to defuse the last bits of tension with a drink while my friends completely embarrass us?” Whitney asked with a giggle.
“Better that than giving David the damned pleasure of an extended ‘I told you so.’” Glyse replied with a laugh of her own. “Wait, isn’t that them running towards us?”
Whitney turned and looked back across the plaza.
“Yeah…” she said, taking in the looks on her crewmate’s faces. “And they’ve got worried mission faces on.”
The three skidded to a stop in front of Whitney and Glyse.
“Cultists set a bomb on the reactor. We have just over twenty minutes to get some gear, get down to the reactor, subdue them, and let Whitney work her magic on a completely unknown device.” Anya said.
“You all seem very calm about this,” Glyse said.
“Just another day on the Chilkoot,” Whitney said with a smirk as they turned and raced for the lifts.
December 21, 2690 - Corona Astra Station, Security Detention
“Why is my crew being held in a detention cell, Officer Andrews?” asked Walker d’Ardenne.
“Because, citizen, those five people broke into a highly secure part of the station during an ongoing emergency, assaulted three security officers, and violated a crime scene.” the officious looking man shot back. The two men standing behind Walker, both unnervingly dangerous looking, winced at the word ‘citizen.’
Walker took a careful step towards the officer and fixed him with his coldest, most aristocratic glare.
“My crew was authorized by Admiral Alastair McKenzie and your Chief Winslow to go into that restricted area and deal with the situation that your people were incapable of dealing with. And may I point out that they managed to do that without completely destroying the device, which means Naval Intelligence will be able to get a truly mind blowing amount of data from it, and they even kept one of the cultists alive for questioning.”
Inside the detention room, Glyse McKenzie approached the one-way mirror and punched it hard enough to send a spider-web of cracks across the entire surface. The intercom set into the wall projected her voice into the observation room.
“For the last time, you incompetent fucks, I am Major Glyse McKenzie of the League Space Force and you will get someone in here right the fuck now to explain why you detained us!”
David McKenzie, the man on Walkers left, glanced in at his sister approvingly.
“Look at that, she managed to hit that hard even in cuffs.” He glanced around the room and did a double take. “Wait, why is she the only one in cuffs?”
The increasingly unnerved security looked into the room, shocked.
“Uhhh… they should all be in restraints?”
Mikhail Janson, the man on Walker’s right, let out a single bark of laughter.
“The only reason she’s still in her’s is because she probably hasn’t sat down long enough for anyone to take them off,” Walker said. “And considering both Riley and Anya are in that room, I’m assuming they’re planning on keeping the cuffs.”
“Do I want to ask why?” David asked cheerfully, clearly enjoying his role in this unfolding drama.
“Anya enjoys being overly prepared,” Janson said. “Riley… no, you don’t want to ask.” He gave David a measured look. “Or perhaps you do? I do not judge your tastes, da?”
“I should talk to them sometime,” David turned his smirk back on the officer. “The better question is: how do you think Admiral McKenzie is going to react to finding his one and only daughter locked in a cell and handcuffed?”
“That is, if she doesn’t rip the cell down before he arrives,” Walker added in his perfectly level tone.
“Oh, if she let herself go enough to do that, he’d buy her a pony for Christmas,” David laughed.
“Glyse has never once asked me for a pony. Unless it comes with thrusters, she wouldn’t want it anyway, and you know that.” Admiral Alastair McKenzie, the Director of Naval Intelligence strode into the room with a rotund man in a Corona Astra security uniform trotting behind him and took in the scene. “Though I am impressed by her restraint. She’s been training.”
“About damn time,” David muttered. McKenzie arched an eyebrow at his son.
“David. Good to see you again.”
“Dad,” David said, throwing the elder McKenzie a casual salute.
“Admiral,” the red-faced security chief said, “I apologize for this horrible misunderstanding.”
“I’d rather you apologize by releasing my daughter, her girlfriend, and Mr. d’Ardenne’s crew,” the Admiral replied in a cold tone.
“A… at once, Admiral McKenzie.” the poor man croaked.
“No, you cannot have your cuffs back,” Anya retorted and brushed past the officer. “Call it an inconveniencing fee.”
“Yeah, see if we ever save your station again, bluejay,” Emmy chimed in.
Glyse held out her still cuffed hands to the officer, and as he approached, she flexed her shoulders and shattered the restraint bar between the rings.
“Get this trash off of me,” she said to the very shaken man.
Across the room from each other, the two McKenzie men shared a smirk, both hearing the kid’s Aunt Liz in Glyse’s line.
Standing over by Walker and David, Riley let out a low whistle and glanced at the younger McKenzie.
“You that strong, too?” she asked with a grin.
“Yeah, but I outdo her in dexterity,” he replied and wiggled his fingers. Riley bit her lip and glanced at Walker.
“Can I steal him and skip the fancy party?”
Walker shook his head, fighting to maintain his composure.
“I hate you both,” he muttered and stepped over to the Admiral. “Apologies for pulling you away to clean up a mess.”
The Admiral glanced at Walker before returning his gaze to Glyse and Whitney.
“Nothing to apologize for here, Walker.” He glanced down at the cane the younger man used to affect the look of a gentleman thief. “You’re still doing me several favors already.”
Walker nodded his head in acknowledgement of the unsaid.
“You’re joining us on Boxing Day for the barbeque.” It wasn’t a question.
“What, and risk missing the legendary McKenzie ribs if I didn’t? Not on your life, Admiral.”
“Good. If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to my daughter and her girlfriend,” McKenzie said and started walking to the other side of the room, though not quite fast enough for Walker to miss him mutter “About damned time…” under his breath.
Glyse and Whitney stood a little ways away from everyone else when the Admiral approached.
“Well, well, well,” he said, pulling a small smile onto his face. “Whitney, it is very good to see you again, and even better to see how much you’ve grown being out and about in the galaxy.”
“Oh!” Whitney squeaked. “Thank you, sir, um, I mean…” her voice trailed off as her face turned red. Glyse rolled her eyes and grabbed Whitney’s hand.
“Hi Dad. Thanks for getting my girlfriend and I out of jail.”
McKenzie fought the laugh bubbling inside of him.
“Did you deliberately steal your brother’s line just to get all the awkwardness out of the situation?”
“Did it work?” Glyse asked with a grin.
“Whitney,” McKenzie smiled at the young woman, ignoring his daughter’s jibe, “Has Glyse invited you to our barbeque on Boxing Day yet?”
“Oh, uh, not yet? I mean, we didn’t have a ton of time to talk after the whole relationship talk and then cultist thing, and I don’t even know if the ship is gonna-”
“Whit!” Anya yelled from across the room. “Breathe!”
“I have it on excellent authority that Walker is attending, so I assume the Chilkoot will be around.” He gave Glyse a glance. “I’m sure Glyse will want to introduce you to the family.”
“Dad!” Glyse said through clenched teeth.
“Daughter.” He said with laughter in his eyes.
He wheeled around and in his best Admiral voice, spoke to the room at large.
“If you'll excuse me, I need to brief the President on this mess. Chief Winslow, please ensure the device and prisoner are handed over to the Tisiphone.”
“Handed over to the Tisiphone, sir?”
“Well, your team is going to be busy with the clean up here at the station. Naval Intelligence will handle the investigation.”
December 24, 2690 - Neo Athens, Calysto
A gaunt man stepped into an alley and slowly drifted down its length. He wore a long, red trench coat with a blazing white suit beneath it. His eyes were bloodshot and cruel. Behind him, lumbering in his wake was a massive NorAellian, his scales painted the same red as the man’s coat. Together, they slid through the shadows of the midwinter evening until they stood at the doorway of a rundown warehouse with notices from the Neo Athens authorities declaring the building condemned and listing a date for its demolition half way through the coming March.
The man reached out a bony hand and rapped on the door. A camera above the door creaked as it pivoted to identify the two. After barely a second, the door slid open with a groan, and the two stepped inside. A jaundice woman in a pair of red scrubs shuffled towards them.
“Deacon Artemi! We weren’t expecting a visit from-”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand.
“Blessed be His Sign, sister,” his voice rasped as he spoke.
She awkwardly bowed her head.
“Blessed be His Sign, Deacon,” she replied.
“You were told not to entrust your sacred mission to a pair of unblooded, and now the gleaming monument to decadence remains overhead and the first wound remains uncarved.”
Fear shone in her eyes.
“Deacon, they-”
“I do not need any excuses from you, sister,” he cackled. “If there was no way to salvage this mistake, Brother Fashtr would already be making a meal of you and reconsecrating this disgusting place in the blood of your flock.”
The sister’s eyes darted nervously to the hulking NorAellian who let out a hissing laugh.
“No, sister, your failure has opened up a new opportunity for us. And instead of needing to reconsecrate you all, Fashtr will satisfy himself with you, alone.”
Deacon Artemi stepped carefully into the main space of the warehouse as the sister’s screams were cut off with sudden crunch. Inside, the rest of the blooded stood gathered in supplication. He drifted through them until he stood before the image of the Bloodsign itself, freshly painted in the blood of a Lyndri dangling from a beam. He ran his fingers through the blood, and wiped them across his eyes before turning to face his new congregation.
“Brothers and Sisters! From the failure of your previous leaders, an opportunity has arisen! The decadent fools of the League are gathered tonight to celebrate the deepest darkness of the year, and it is only appropriate that we receive their praise and release their lives! Together, we shall carve the first wound in reality!”
A roar of approval greeted his words and he raised his hands in benediction.
“Blessed be the Father!” he cried.
“Blessed be the Father!” his flock echoed back.
“Blessed be His Sign!” he shrieked.
“Blessed be His Sign!” their response shook dust from the rafters.
In a worn down apartment a few blocks from the warehouse, an Intelligence agent grabbed his phone and dialed.
“Sigma 2-2-7, secure. Report for Agent Scott. Confirmed: Deacon Artemi and his loyal pet on scene. New target designated: a high society party tonight in Neo Athens. Advise next steps.”
He set his phone down and resumed the feed from inside the Bloodsign warehouse. He had barely started listening again when his phone buzzed. He grabbed it and listened to the message:
“Agent Scott acknowledges receipt. Prep assault team. Any of them going to the party, allow to pass then be ready to breach the site on my command. Ending this tonight.”
“Finally,” the agent said and went to give his strike team the good news.
“I didn’t know they even made dresses where every fiber can change color and glow,” Walker d’Ardenne said as he extended his hand to the woman exiting the floating limo.
“Shove it, Walker. If you want me at a party full of these fucking rich assholes, then by god I’m going to put on a show,” Lizbeth Locke said, grabbing his arm stepping onto the marble steps of the Neon Acropolis Hotel.
“Ah, Auntie,” David McKenzie said from where he leaned against a column, “That’s why we both wanted you here!”
Liz narrowed her eyes at the two of them.
“Just what are you jackasses planning tonight?” she growled.
Walker and David exchanged a look.
“Glyse and Whitney finally made their thing official,” David said.
“Good, about damn time,” Liz said. “What does that have to do with this party?”
“Glyse still thinks of us as just thieves,” Walker said. “Including, to some degree, Whitney. We need to disabuse her of that notion.”
“What, you’re suddenly too good for thievery now? You? Marks’ favorite student?” Liz said, poking Walker in the sternum.
“God no.” Walker said and pulled a few credit tabs from his pocket. “I’ve been lifting all evening. No, Glyse needs to learn that we aren’t just thieves. There are at least four different meetings we’re going to be diffusing, preventing, or otherwise stopping from happening tonight, along with three things that we’re going to push into happening.”
“And my sister,” David chimed back in, “is more than clever enough to at least see the edges of the cons, especially with Whit on her arm pointing her in the right directions.”
“Wait, you two clowns are giving her an education on what underworld training can be used for?”
The two men exchanged another look and nodded.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Walker said.
“This is either going to be the fastest basket ride to hell ever,” Liz said with a slightly feral grin “Or a fucking good time.”
“Aren’t those the same thing for you?” Walker asked, offering her his arm. “Even though my family puts this on, I rarely get to escort in nobility,” he said.
Liz scowled and grabbed his arm, schooling her features into a mask of perfect nobility. David gave them a mischievous look.
“And while you two are going through all the social niceties, I’m gonna go see if Riley is interested in another quickie,” he said.
“If you two hormone machines use the east utility corridor, we can inconvenience one of the groups right away,” Walker said.
“Ah,” David sighed, “It’s always nice when sex is part of the plan.” He slipped away into a knot of people near the door as Walker and Liz stepped onto the red carpet and approached the announcer.
Walker handed him a card and gave Liz a look.
“Fair warning, we’re using your full title this evening,” he said quietly.
Liz’s eye twitched and Walker felt her arm tense for a moment.
“You clever little shit,” she whispered back and he fought off a grin, keeping his face a stoic mask.
“Announcing Master Walker d’Ardenne and his guest: Lady Lizbeth Simon, Scion of House Simon of the Terran Republic and Duchess of the Tycho Nebula,” the announcer’s voice boomed out into the ballroom and the two of them stepped forward. They paused at the top of the five steps that led down into the ballroom and they both tracked all the eyes that swiveled towards them.
“There’s a handful of Terran Ambassadors and at least one of their Sector Governors here,” Liz whispered. “They seemed annoyed by that.”
“That’s the goal,” Walker whispered back. “My youngest sister’s father-in-law quietly requested that we arrange for the Terrans to be caught off guard somehow. Hence the title. And there are two sector governors in attendance: Arkaroo and Surya. Governor Frost of Surya is the one coming right at us. Governor Qadir of Arkaroo is the one who looked pissed.” He extended his hand and raised his voice, slipping into the wealthy dilettante role with surprising ease. “Governor Frost! I’m so glad you could attend this evening!”
Emmy would never say it outloud, mostly because there would be no living with the woman if she knew, but she enjoyed being paired with Anya on the job. The two of them, bedecked in ludicrously expensive gowns and with their arms linked, floated around the party, for all the world just another high society couple here to be seen. Walker and Locke were still monopolizing the crowd’s attention in the center of the ballroom while Glyse and Whitney were wrapped up in conversation with who looked to be the top brass of the League Space Force.
“Riley and David have already scared off the two corporate reps who were supposed to meet with Qadir,” Anya muttered, sipping her drink.
“Ay, and ol’ Hot Shot seems to be doing a good job keeping the General’s aide wrapped up in the conversation and her contact left at the sight of Locke anyways. That’s two of the four meetings dealt with,” Emmy murmured back.
“‘Ol’ Hot Shot’ has a name, you know,” Glyse said over the comms. Emmy glanced over and saw the pilot carefully taking a sip of her drink.
“You’re right,” Anya said, giving Emmy a grin. “She does have a name, and we should use it.”
“Oh no,” Whitney’s mutter came in clear on the comms.
“Ay, ya right,” Emmy conceded. “Whitney’s girlfriend is doing a good job.”
Across the hall, Whitney barely managed to avoid choking on her drink.
“Aw, did I miss my chance to dunk on Glyse?” came David’s voice. Emmy glanced over towards the east wall of the room and saw David and Riley slipping back in from the utility corridor.
“Yup, ya did,” she confirmed. “You can either have fun boning or get in the dunks. Can’t have both.”
“Huh…” he said. Emmy saw his head turn towards Riley and his eyebrow go up. Riley shrugged in response. “We can always slip back into the corridor,” he said.
The sound of coughing hit the comm.
“Goddamnit David,” Glyse growled, “You can’t just fire those off.”
Anya followed Emmy’s eyeline and saw David and Riley doubled over in laughter.
“Do you think we’ve made a mistake introducing those two?” Anya asked.
“Nah,” Emmy replied. “They both need a friend as immature as they are.” She pulled out her phone and glanced at a list. “Looks like the next thing is getting one Adrian North into a conversation with Calysto’s governor.”
“David,” Walker’s voice popped into their ears. “Come escort your aunt for a bit.”
“Yeah, yeah, spoilsport” David grumbled and began threading his way through the crowd towards them.
Liz and David carried on hobnobbing with the socialites as Walker ducked away into the crowd and made his way to the small alcove where his mother was holding court. Just as he was about to enter the space, a hand reached out and grabbed him. He found himself wrapped up in a hug by his sister Lacy.
Growing up, it had frequently been Walker and Lacy pitted against their younger siblings, the twins Daniel and Danielle. At least until Daniel had died.
Walker wiggled his arms free until he could return the hug.
“Hi Lacy,” he said quietly.
“Hi Walky,” she said back.
Walker squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. Directly behind his sister he could see Emmy and Anya fighting not to burst into laughter. He heard David’s voice in his ear.
“Oh my god, it really must be Christmas.”
Walker tried to block out his crew’s laughter and took a step back from his sister, holding her at arm’s length.
“How ya been Lacy?” he asked.
“Oh, you know, living life” she said with a shrug. “Probably pretty boring compared to the exploits of my brother.”
“Oh come on,” he said. “You’re a doctor! Saving lives, finding new and unique ways to deal with all the new and unique things trying to kill us. There’s got to be some excitement there.”
“Sure,” she said. “But I’ve never been involved in a terrorist attack on a space station.”
Walker had to bite back his comment of ‘Which time?’ and instead just shrugged and gave her a smile.
“My crew handled that, I just showed up for the aftermath.”
Lacy gave him a sad smile.
“I get why you do it, Walker,” she said, “but I wish you could find something here that could hold your attention.”
“You know that the whole spouse, kids, house, and pet thing was never for me,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” she paused and looked up at him. “Mom, Dani, and I all wish we could see you more often, you know?”
“Hey, I was on my way to see Mom when you ambushed me.”
Lacy waved a hand.
“Ah, you don’t want to go up there right now. You might end up with a hit list.”
Walker’s eyes narrowed.
“Why,” he asked carefully, “would I end up with a hit list?”
Lacy rolled her eyes.
“You know how Mom hasn’t dated since Dad?”
“I guess so? I always assumed you or Dani would let me know if she did.”
“Well, she let herself get pulled into a charity auction and won a date with that actor from ‘Hyperwave’ and the next thing ya know, all sorts of people came knocking, assuming that she was signaling that she was available.”
“Does she want to be making herself available?”
“Nah,” Lacy shook her head. “Mostly it was just gold diggers and people looking for social clout.”
“Then why, exactly, should I not be making a list to dissuade people from this?”
Lacy rolled her eyes again.
“Well first, because Mom knew you would act this way and didn’t want you to make a scene, and second, because I think she’s having fun playing the would-be suitors against one another. She managed to double the donations to the revitalization fund in six months.”
Walker shook his head in admiration.
“Sometimes I forget that I learned my first grifting lessons from Mom.”
Lacy slugged him in the shoulder.
“Do not tell her that. She already worries about her first born being consumed by the violent criminal underbelly of Freelance space.”
Lacy flexed her fingers and wiggled them.
“Also, ow,” she said. “When did you get all muscley?”
“Just after the first time someone pointed a gun at me in earnest,” Walker said with a grin.
Lacy narrowed her eyes.
“You know muscles won’t stop a bullet, right?”
“Yeah,” Walker said, “but they let me move to cover easier, or let me run away faster.”
Lacy had slowly walked the two of them back around until they were nearing their mother’s alcove. Standing right outside of it was their younger sister, Danielle Jimenez nee d’Ardenne, with her newborn daughter Michele on her hip and her doting husband, Rucker Jimenez, at her side. When she saw her two siblings, a grin erupted and she handed her squirming baby to her husband and hurried forward.
She and Lacy hugged and Lacy stepped over to hug Rucker and coo at her niece. Walker opened his arms and Danielle stepped into them.
“Hey big brother,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest.
“Hey little brat,” he said back.
She let go and stepped back to look at him.
“For someone who’s life is as crazy as yours is, you look surprisingly good, Walker,” she said.
He grinned at her and shrugged.
“Half of my crew are kind of insane about proper macros and the rest of us know what battles to fight,” he said.
Riley’s voice popped into his ear.
“A solid diet is never an insane choice Walker!”
Walker ignored them and let Danielle lead him over to her husband. Lacy deftly swept the baby out of Rucker’s arms so he could shake Walker’s hand.
“Hey Walker, good to see you,” Rucker said. “And thank you for the introduction in the Empire Cluster. No one from the League Diplomatic Corp has been able to make any headway with them since the Confederacy was founded.”
“Ah it’s nothing,” Walker waved off the compliment. “You live around people for long enough and you just get to know them a bit better,” he said.
The siblings spent some time catching up, with baby Michele being passed around all four of them, until Lacy finally grabbed Walker’s arm and began pulling him into the alcove.
“Ok, Mom needs rescuing,” she said.
At the staff entrance to the Neon Acropolis, blades flashed in the moonlight and four bodies fell to the ground. Deacon Artemi stepped up to each one of them, dipped his fingers in their blood, and anointed the four who had killed them.
“My brothers and sisters, remember. We release the decadent lambs from the burdens of their lives. We allow them to return to the wellspring of all souls, and we use their blood to carve the first wound that will open the sealed gates!”
He began pacing between the steaming bodies cooling in the night’s chill.
“Drive all malice and rage from your hearts! We are guiding our galaxy towards the glory Father has promised us all!”
He flung a hand up, encompassing the entire Neon Acropolis.
“Now go, my brothers and sisters! Lead the decadent to their ultimate glory and show them the error of their ways!”
In the security hub of the Neon Acropolis, the head of Praetorian Domestic Security Services stood in the center of a hive of activity. Caliburn O’Bannon, like most of his employees, had the hard-edge look of a former Marine. He was proud of his achievement with Praetorian. Former Marines from the League, the Republic, and even a few from the Confederacy, had come together and laid aside their old hatreds in the name of becoming the best damn security service in human space.
People had noticed. Already, he was having to consider which of his people was ready for an operational command. His eyes drifted over to the large man leaning over a console, scrolling through camera feeds. ‘If only some people were interested in working more than just part-time,’ he thought to himself, ‘this choice would be a lot easier.’
The large man straightened up and looked over at O’Bannon.
“Sir,” he said, “We may have issue.”
O’Bannon walked over to the console and glanced down at the screen. On it, a group of people in red scrubs were filing into the hotel through a staff entrance and making their way to the freight elevator at the end of the loading area.
“What the hell…” O’Bannon muttered.
“Walker.” O’Bannon looked up at the large man next to him.
“Who’s Walker?” O’Bannon asked, puzzled.
“Apologies sir,” the big man said, “I’m not talking to you.” His eyes seemed to go distant for a moment and O’Bannon was struck with the thought that he was listening to something.
“Understood, Janson out.”
“Who’s Janson?” O’Bannon asked, increasingly unnerved.
“Mikhail Janson, formerly a Terran Marine, then a Terran Spook,” said a new voice. O’Bannon and Janson both spun towards it. A man in the most perfectly bland suit stepped into the center of the room and regarded them both. “Now, Mr. Janson operates as the Hitter for a shockingly effective and well-connected thief crew. And his infiltration skills have improved quite nicely.”
Janson shrugged, modestly.
“It helps when I don’t have to lie much,” he said and gave O’Bannon an apologetic look. “My apologies, Mr. O’Bannon. I would have preferred you not learn this way.”
“Yes, very touching,” the bland man said. “We have a developing situation and I’m here to instruct you,” and he gave Janson a particularly meaningful look, “all of you, to stand down and allow LNI to handle what’s about to happen.”
O’Bannon was looking between Janson and the new guy and finally tossed his hands in the air.
“What the hell is going on?!”
Janson placed a hand on O’Bannon’s shoulder.
“This is LNI agent and he is kindly asking you to stand down your security people and let his people handle the psychotic cultists that are boarding the freight elevator right now.”
“Oh, did they make it into the elevator?” the bland agent asked.
“Da, doors just closed,” Janson said.
The agent touched his ear and murmured something over his comm channel. Janson looked back at O’Bannon.
“He was also asking me to tell my crew to stay out of their way, which I need to do.”
Janson gave him a smile and walked over to an empty corner of the room. O’Bannon tossed his hands in the air and keyed his comm.
“All Praetorian teams, this is command. League Naval Intelligence is onsite to deal with some sort of cultist issue. Do not engage and stay out of LNI’s way,” he said.
He turned and saw the bland man smiling at him.
“I can see why the d’Ardenne family selected Praetorian for this job, Mr. O’Bannon. Now, why don’t we pull up some chairs and watch my people take out the trash.”
“Who even are you!” O’Bannon shouted.
“Oh, I’m so sorry Mr. O’Bannon. I’m Agent Scott.”
“Is that supposed to be an answer?”
“Is all the answer we are getting today,” Janson said, stepping back into the center of the room. He looked at Agent Scott. “My crew is willing to play ball, for now.”
“Good! Now, any chance you have popcorn around here?” Agent Scott asked.
Riley Aimes had slipped away from Adrian North after gently guiding him into a conversation with the Governor of Calysto when her comm chirped in her ear.
“Crew, Janson,” the burly former Terran had been inserted into the security group hired for the party. ‘He blends in better with the goons,’ Riley thought to themself.
“Go ahead Janson,” Walker said. Riley glanced across the room and saw him turned away from his Mother for a moment, listening. They were hit with the same, deep seated jealousy they had dealt with for years. ‘He’s a goddamn thief running cons at his Mother’s party, and she still loves him without question. What the hell was wrong with my mother?’ Riley entertained the bitter thought for a moment before shaking their head and drifting towards a quiet corner to listen and watch.
“Two things,” Janson said. “First, Bloodsign is loading into the freight elevator right now.”
Across the crowded ballroom, Riley noticed Emmy, Anya, Glyse, and Whit all tense up. Walker and David both remained, outwardly, unphased by this news. Riley’s eyes lingered on the younger McKenzie for a moment. Despite themselves, Riley found that they liked David, and not just for his physical prowess. The dude let nothing shatter his chill. Hell, he had thrown a jaunty wave at the two corporate shills who had been looking to make some clandestine deals in the utility corridor, and he had done it without interrupting what the two of them had been focused on at the time. And his sense of humor was as twisted as their own was. He was worth keeping on call.
“What’s the second thing?” David asked.
“LNI has an Agent Scott on hand with a strike force. They say they are handling it and they specifically broke my cover to make sure that we would stay out of their way.”
“Agent Scott…” David seemed to be pondering the name. “I don’t think that’s anyone I know. Sis?”
“He’s one of Dad’s handymen,” Glyse said. “Hypercompetent but little to no ambition beyond getting the job done. Last I heard he was the one keeping an eye on all of the crazies that cluster up on the edges of space. Bloodsign, Canticle, bigoted religious wildcat colonies. All that stuff.”
“Oh fun,” Emmy said. “He’s an asylum warden here to make sure his patients get back to solitary.”
“If he’s one of the Old Man’s cleaners,” Walker said, “Then he would know better than to break someone’s cover for shits and giggles. That’s almost as good as having the Admiral call and tell us to stand down himself.”
“Are we complying?” Janson asked.
“For now, yes. Janson, eyes and ears around Scott, and see if you can keep eyes on the exterior cams. Everyone else, stick to your cover roles and act the parts. We are not letting these bastards kill anyone today, so if LNI drops the ball, we’ll pick it up.”
The crew chorused their understanding and Riley saw Walker nod.
“David, Liz. Since we don’t know LNI’s play, if the cultists make it in here, try to keep Bloodsign’s attention on the two of you. Remember what the two idiots on the station said: they want to kill off those they see as decadent. Liz, you’re literally the wealthiest person in the room. Sucker them in.”
Riley rolled their shoulders and carefully felt for the batons hidden under their jacket. Their eyes tracked across the room, carefully noting that Anya and Emmy had separated, as had Glyse and Whitney. With Liz and David in the center of the room and the six of them spread around the perimeter, they had the whole ballroom in view.
“Bring on the cultist fucks,” Riley muttered.
The first wave of cultists stepped off the freight elevator. They filed down the small utility corridor towards the doors into the main ballroom as the elevator descended to get the second wave. One of the blooded sniffed the air and scowled at the brother standing next to them.
“These decadent fools can’t even restrain their animal impulses for an evening. This whole corridor reeks of sex.”
The brother scowled in response.
“We shall free them of these impulses, brother,” he growled.
Behind them, the elevator dinged. The two brothers turned to greet their companions and were the first ones caught in the spider-web of energy that fired from the turret in the elevator. Electricity danced through the cultists and the whole group dropped twitching to the floor.
In the ballroom, the lights dimmed momentarily, prompting the Mayor of Neo Athens to call over to the Governor of Calysto in the sudden drop in conversations “I told you we need to revisit the Neo Athens grid!” Laughter erupted and the party resumed, unbothered.
With the West Isles group slowly rotating around the perimeter of the ballroom, Anya had ended up closest to the utility corridor when the lights dimmed, and she felt a wave of static wash over her. Dimly, over the sound of the band and the conversations, she heard the recognizable sound of bodies hitting the floor.
“Hey gang,” she said. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the grid flickering. I just heard bodies hit the floor in the corridor.”
“Da,” Janson said. “LNI used some new crowd suppression weapon on the cultists. They are all twitching like puppies without their strings.”
“Puppets.” Emmy corrected him. “Puppets without their strings.”
“Oh, da, that makes more sense. Is a less creepy mental image.”
“What’s it look like outside?” Walker asked.
“Looks like two cultists slipped away. They were dressed much fancier than the others.” Janson paused for a moment. “Well, I say dressed. One was a very large NorAellian and would swear his scales were painted red.”
“Did Agent Scott notice?” Glyse asked.
“I drew his attention to it. He called them Deacon Artemi and Brother Fashtr. He also suggested that they’d get snapped up by his second task force that is clearing out some warehouse of theirs.”
Anya glanced over at Walker and saw that he wasn’t moving.
“Deacon Artemi, you said?” Walker asked Janson.
“Da,” he answered. “He seemed important.”
“Yeah, I’d say so,” Walker said. “He’s supposed to be the number two behind this illusive ‘Father’ they always go on about.”
“They aren’t going to get snapped up by anyone,” David said.
“No, they won’t.” Walker said, and Anya could hear the scheming in his voice. “David, kindly ask Liz if she’s fed up enough with rich people to want to go hit things.”
“Do you even need to ask?” David said.
“Not really,” Walker admitted. “Ok, Glyse and Whit. Make an exit and get downstairs to street level. Whit, I want to track those two by city cams.”
“Got it boss,” Whitney said, following in her girlfriend’s wake.
“David, get Liz to make a graceful exit as well. Emmy, Anya, and Riley, I know we’re leaving y’all with the last two bullet points to complete here. Feel free to pull Janson out of the security room if you need another hand. Fall back to my apartment when the job’s wrapped.”
“Heard,” Emmy said.
Anya saw Walker duck back into his family alcove and she and Riley started moving to link up with Emmy and adjust their plans to get the up-and-coming heir to the Emory fortune into a meeting with one of the Lyndri Ambassadors.
Walker pulled back from his mother’s hug and gave her a smile.
“Sorry, Mom, but we can’t really let two psychopaths run loose in Neo Athens. Not on Christmas Eve.”
Layla d’Ardenne patted her son’s cheek.
“I know, Walker,” she said. “And I know I couldn’t stop you even if I didn’t understand. I know enough about what you do to not even try.” She pulled his head down and kissed his forehead. “Be safe, my son. And you’re coming to brunch tomorrow morning, yes?”
“Yes, Mom, I’ll be there,” he said with a warm smile.
“Good boy,” she said and then grinned. “You know, if you have anyone you want to bring with you…”
Walker chuckled and carefully did not roll his eyes.
“Come on, Mom. You know me. I wouldn’t hide a potential source of grandkids from you.”
Layla smiled a bit sadly at him.
“It’s not about the grandkids, Walker,” she said. “I want all of my kids to be happy.”
“I am, Mom,” he said. “Genuinely.”
“Well, I’m your Mom, I’m always going to worry about you,” she gave him another brief hug. “Now go catch some baddies.”
Deacon Artemi and Fashtr were hidden in deep shadows well clear of the buzz of activity that surrounded the Bloodsign’s warehouse.
“We have been played today, Brother Fashtr, and I do not enjoy the game we find ourselves in.”
The NorAellian growled low in his throat. Artemi appreciated Fashtr for many things, but conversation was not one of his strong suits. The pain he could cause in a shared victim, now that was a beautiful sight to behold, and the two Bloodsign brothers had frequently found themselves wrapped together in near-orgasmic bliss after a particularly brutal release of lives. Artemi pondered, not for the first time, the idea of the two of them overthrowing Father and making themselves the divine Fathers of the cult. He ran a hand down Fashtr’s chest, idly enjoying the feel of the lizard’s scales moving under his fingers.
“We need to get to arrange a ride off world, brother. Make for the spaceport.”
“Ok, our targets are moving away from the warehouse. Rough guess, I’d say they’re making for the spaceport,” Whitney said. She had a pad propped up in front of her on the bar of the abandoned restaurant they were in. Walker and David stood behind the bar, sipping drinks in near unison. Glyse was leaning on the bar next to Whitney, and Liz was pacing.
“They want to get off-planet as fast as possible,” Walker said. “We won’t be letting them do that.”
All eyes turned to him and he continued.
“We need to dangle bait in front of them, and Liz, that means you. David, you’ll be her escort. Both of you act drunk and be very loud about making for a private yacht at the spaceport.”
David raised his hand and Walker pointed at him without a word.
“Do we have a private yacht at the spaceport?” he asked.
“There’s lots of things at the spaceport, yachts amongst them. It’ll sell,” Walker said. “Besides, ideally they’ll grab the two of you and drag you somewhere dark to torture and murder you both first.”
“And this is a good plan?” Glyse asked.
“Oh yeah it is,” Liz said. “I get to do my deeply unpleasant party trick, and you, me, and your brother all get to cut loose. Perfect fucking end to a party.”
Glyse shot Liz a panicked look and glanced down at Whitney, but her girlfriend was still engrossed in tracking the two cultists. Liz stuck her tongue out at her goddaughter. Glyse scowled in return.
“Once they grab Liz and David, Glyse and I will follow and sneak into wherever they take you two. David, Glyse, you two good to handle an insane NorAellian until Liz is back with us?”
The McKenzie kids nodded.
“Good. Whitney, once we know where they’re at, message Janson to clue Agent Scott in.”
“Gotcha,” Whit said without looking up. Walker noticed that her hand was wrapped around Glyse’s arm and he bit back a grin.
“Do you have any extra gear in this particular safehouse?” Glyse asked. “I’d rather not fight in a cocktail dress worth this much.” Liz nodded her agreement.
Walker pointed down a hallway.
“Back towards the kitchen is a locker room. It’s kitted out for the crew, but y’all can probably find something.”
“Good,” Liz said, unzipping her dress and stepping out of it. Walker shook his head, eyes averted. Glyse grumbled about manners, grabbed her aunt’s dress and followed her down the hall.
Deacon Artemi held up a hand and peered out of the shadowed alley he and Fashtr loomed in. Ahead of them, two people dressed like they had come from the Neon Acropolis party stumbled into the square, clearly drunk. The woman pirouetted around her escort playfully.
“Come on, hun, get me back to my yacht and we can have our own party.”
The two brothers exchanged glances. Deacon pulled out a phone and keyed on the camera. He trained it on the pair and zoomed in. He let out a startled little gasp and turned to Fashtr. The lizard could feel the Deacon’s excitement growing.
“Brother, that female is everything we need to right the wrongs of this day. That is Liz Locke, the supposedly immortal mercenary.”
Fashtr growled hungrily and let his clawed hand run down Artmei’s body in as loving a gesture as a psychotic lizard could muster.
“Take the man, I’ll take the woman. We’ll bring them into that empty apartment behind us.”
Walker and Glyse watched the two cultists haul off Liz and David.
“Whitney, you have their location pinged?” Walker asked as he and Glyse casually crossed the plaza towards the abandoned apartment complex.
“Yeah, I’ve got them. It looks like they’re heading downstairs,” Whitney said.
“Damn,” Glyse said, “What is with death cultists and basements?”
“Fewer prying eyes, being below ground level provides natural noise dampening, and basements are usually easier to secure,” Walker responded.
“Why did you have that answer prepped?” Glyse asked.
Walker gave her a look.
“Because that’s what you’d look for in a safehouse, or if I needed to interrogate someone, or hold a prisoner,” Walker shrugged. “These idiots are basically just kidnappers where the kidnapping doesn’t end well.”
The two of them stepped into the building. Ahead of them, a side door was still slowly swinging closed.
“Whitney,” Glyse said, “We’re approaching the basement.”
The day, Deacon Artemi decided, was finally looking up.
Fashtr had carefully strung the supposedly immortal mercenary up by her wrists, and he was tying her escort to one of the many overstuffed chairs that littered the basement space. Based on the stains, they weren’t the first to shed blood down here.
Artemi let out a little sigh of pleasure. It was so nice to find spaces pre-consecrated with human suffering. Yet another reminder that the gates were doomed to fall.
He withdrew a wicked blade from inside his trench coat and let the lights in the basement play along its edge. Fashtr stepped up behind him and pressed into him. They were both eager for this.
Artemi stepped forward and slapped the mercenary across the face and Liz Locke came to suddenly.
“Wha… where am I…” she stammered.
The Deacon grabbed her chin and pulled her head up so he could look her in the eyes.
“Humankind exists to die, Ms. Locke. To claim that you are beyond the circle of souls is a blasphemy too great to allow to continue. Your blood will be the first wound carved in reality.”
Locke’s eyes grew unexpectedly brighter, as though she were fighting to restrain laughter.
“Wow, you fuckers really all use the exact same script, don’t you?”
Artemi took a shocked step back.
“What?”
“Look, you’ve got style, and it's not often that a human cult can really hook a psychotic NorAellian, so I’ve got to give you points for that. But seriously, you don’t need to preach to your victims. They’re gonna be dead. Just get to the good stuff already.”
Artemi recovered quickly and stepped back up next to her.
“Now Ms. Locke, I’m surprised. Your hedonistic appetites are practically legendary, but it sure sounds like you don’t understand the importance of…” Artemi casually, slowly, slid his knife into her side. “...foreplay. Now be a good girl, and scream for me.”
Hidden in the shadows on the stairs, Walker and Glyse listened as Liz let out an ear-splitting scream. Walker winced.
“Oh, I’m gonna owe her for this one,” he said.
Glyse glanced at him.
“Why, exactly?” she asked.
“Because she hates playing the sub,” he said and pulled out his pistol. “Honestly, I’m glad we have the NorAellian as a distraction. I can subdue the Deacon while you wear him down. Remember, we’d prefer him alive.”
Deacon ripped his knife from the mercenary.
She laughed. He knew she was in pain, but still, all she did was laugh. This wasn’t right. A life released had to be during panic, fear, or despair. Preferably all three. But she was laughing. Laughing! At him!
Rage built inside Artemi. Rage and fear. This was no simple woman. No easy target in the night. She wasn’t right.
‘But,’ the sudden thought struck him, ‘I can solve this problem with ease!’
He grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.
“As fun as this has been, it ends now, along with your legend.”
Before she could spit out a response, he slit her throat and buried his knife in her heart.
“There,” he said to the suddenly silent room. “No more laughing,” and he pulled his knife from her chest.
Walker and Glyse nodded to each other and crept down the stairs to stack up on either side of the doorway.
“Janson,” Walker sub-vocalized, “Relay the coordinates from Whitney to Agent Scott.”
“Come on Auntie,” Glyse murmured. “Don’t take all day.”
Liz drew in a breath and glanced around slowly. She was still tied up, but the two cultists were doing something over next to David. Through the open doorway, she could just barely make out the occasional movements that suggested that d’Ardenne and her goddaughter were in position.
She locked eyes with David and gave a meaningful look at the knotted rope above her head. He rolled his eyes and casually glanced to the side to see where the cultists were. One of his swords materialized in his hand and he launched it at her. She felt the knots give and she flexed her knees to take the impact.
She brushed herself off and grabbed a good long piece of rebar from the floor before she spoke.
“What was that you were saying about a legend ending?” she asked. The two cultists spun towards her and Artemi’s eyes bulged in shock. “I was thinking I’d just add another chapter.”
Fights are never an organized affair.
Walker and Glyse stormed through the door. Walker made a beeline for Artemi while Glyse aimed a blow at Fashtr’s knee.
David didn’t so much break his bonds as he did simply stand up and let the chair fall to pieces around him. He grabbed one of the chair legs and swung it directly at Fashtr’s head.
Walker hit Artemi low and the two went tumbling to the far side of the room as Liz leapt towards the enraged NorAellian.
For a while, there was only noise.
December 25, 2690 - Walker d’Ardenne’s Apartment, Neo Athens, Calysto
A sore and tired group limped into Walker's apartment a little after midnight. Anya and Emmy looked up from their pads.
“Damnation,” Emmy said. “Who the hell beat you lot black and blue?”
“Walker,” Liz growled, “insisted that we take them alive.”
“And they took exception to that,” David finished, easing himself into a chair.
Whitney and Glyse stepped past them, Whit tugging her girlfriend towards one of the guest rooms.
“I know you heal fast, Yse, but at least let me clean that cut up,” Whitney murmured as they disappeared down the hall.
Walker thumped David’s shoulder.
“Go get cleaned up,” he said. “You’re bleeding on my chair.”
David stood and stretched and headed towards the balcony instead.
“I’m gonna see if Riley wants to help clean my wounds.”
Emmy and Anya groaned good-naturedly.
“You two aren’t ever stopping, are you?” Anya asked.
“Not a chance,” David grinned and stepped outside.
Walker looked at Liz.
“Are you sticking around, Lizbeth?”
She shook her head.
“Nope, Em’s shuttle is arriving first thing tomorrow and I’m sure she’s going to give me an ear full about something,” Liz gave him a tired smile. “Thanks for a fun time, Walky.”
Walker glared at her and shook his head as she slipped out the front door. Emmy and Anya were desperately trying to hold in giggles. Walker squeezed his eyes shut and stomped down the hallway to his room.
“Not one goddamn word,” he growled over his shoulder.
Whitney had figured that she and Glyse would wind up undressing together at some point, but she hadn’t expected it to happen this fast, or that she would be more focused on bandaging up her girlfriend than admiring how she looked.
“You’re staring, Whit,” Glyse said, shooting Whitney a smile through the mirror. Whitney felt herself blush.
“Can you blame me?” Whitney asked. Riley’s advice to pick and choose moments to be bold echoed through her mind and she stepped forward and wrapped Glyse up in a hug, pressing their bodies together. Glyse let out a small gasp and Whitney pulled away slightly, afraid she had hit a wound. Glyse grabbed her arms and pulled her back tight against her.
“No, this might just be the adrenaline talking, but I like you holding me like this,” Glyse said.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Whit said.
“You could never,” Glyse leaned her head back and brushed her cheek against Whitney’s. They stood that way for a while, leaning on each and reveling in their closeness. Eventually, Whitney shifted her mouth closer to Glyse’s ear.
“Would you think I was being too forward if I suggested we take a shower?” she asked. In the mirror, Glyse blushed. Whitney watched her frown for a moment and saw it slowly shift into a small smile. Glyse turned in Whitney’s arms, planted a gentle kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek, before pulling away from their hug. She grinned as she shimmied out of the coveralls she had borrowed from the safehouse. Whitney’s eyes grew wide at the sight. Glyse turned and padded towards the bathroom. At the door, she stopped and glanced back over her shoulder.
“You’re wearing too much for a shower,” she said. Whitney laughed and reached behind her to unzip the cocktail dress she had been wearing all night.
By the time Walker stepped back into the living room, Janson had arrived with a small heap of take-away containers. He saluted Walker with a pair of chop-sticks.
“Courtesy of our new friend Agent Scott,” Janson said. Walker grunted and snagged a container of fried rice. Anya leaned out of the kitchen.
“Walker, you want a mug of tea or are you going harder tonight?”
“Tea sounds amazing, Anya,” he said, rooting around the pile of disposable cutlery for a spoon.
“Mik, is Agent Scott likely to be an issue for us?” Emmy asked, stepping out of the kitchen with a bowl of ramen.
The big man slurped some noodles from his container before answering.
“Unless we go poking the cults under his watch, probably not,” he said. He cocked his head over to one side in thought. “I am not thrilled that he knew our names and faces. I respect the Admiral, but I dislike our information being passed around without our knowledge or consent.”
“I don’t particularly want this spook thinking we owe him, either,” Anya said, handing Walker a steaming mug. “I’ve got exactly zero desire to tangle with any of those death cults out on the edge.”
“Do you think it’s worth talking to the Admiral about?” Emmy asked Walker. He sipped his tea and pondered the question as Glyse and Whitney walked into the room hand in hand. Anya hid a grin behind her mug at the sight.
“Is what worth talking to my Dad about?” Glyse asked.
“Him handing out dossiers on us to his agents,” Emmy provided. She pointed at the spread of food on the table. “Grab something to eat while you still have options.”
“I’ll see about dropping Agent Scott a message,” Walker said between bites.
Whitney practically dragged Glyse to the table and started searching through the containers. Glyse followed along, a pensive look on her face. Walker noticed and shot a curious look her way.
“Everything alright, Glyse?”
“Umm… Do I need to kick in anything towards all this?” she asked.
Anya and Emmy burst into laughter while Janson let his guard down enough to grin. Even Whitney was clearly stifling laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Glyse asked defensively. “I’m not about to be a freeloader here.”
Walker shook his head and sat his fried rice down.
“Why don’t we step out onto the balcony for a second, Major,” he said, stepping over to the door. Glyse followed along behind him. He stepped over to the railing and leaned out, looking over the city for a moment. “It’s supposed to snow tonight,” he said, conversationally.
“How is it that I’m not freezing? You don’t have any heating towers out here,” Glyse noted.
Walker glanced at her with an eyebrow arched.
“Radiant heating from the walls and floor,” he said.
“Those systems cost…”
“Almost as much as the entire apartment, yeah,” he finished for her and patted the rail next to him. She stepped up and looked out at Neo Athens with him.
“We tried to do this all subtle earlier this evening, but I think it bears being direct,” he said. Glyse glanced over at him, curiosity and suspicion showing on her face.
“We’re thieves, Glyse. Grifters, con artists, lock breakers, hackers, whatever you want to call us. We’re damned good ones, too. I was trained by one of the best to ever play the game, and everyone in that apartment, with the exception of you and your brother, have been taught their trade craft by people that LNI isn’t even aware of. But we don’t just pull heists and steal things. We do some more subtle grifts and cons too.” He pointed out towards the Neon Acropolis a few blocks away. “Until those cultists showed up, we were doing jobs at that party. We scotched a meeting between a close aide to the Space Force General and their Terran contact. You helped with that one. We added a link in the Free Lyndri underground by introducing Jameson Emory to a Lyndri Ambassador. David and Riley hooking up in the utility corridor was probably good for both of them and it prevented two corporate groups from buying stolen CNK research from the Arkaroo Governor.”
He glanced at her to see if she was following.
“That pile of food in there? We didn’t pay a dime for that, and I’d bet you a brand new squadron of fighters that Janson dropped at least as much food off with a local shelter. Agent Scott paid us a bounty on the two cultists that you helped us bring down. And even if he hadn’t, the credit tabs we all lifted while at the party would have covered it,” he raised a hand to forestall her comment. “Yes, we picked pockets all over that party. Mostly from our marks or from the obscenely wealthy.”
“You remember that I’m a sworn member of the League military, right? And that you just admitted to a lot of theft right to my face?” Glyse asked, more confused than confrontational.
“And? You should know better than most that an institutional authority isn’t necessarily a just or moral one. Riley was an upstanding Naval Officer until their last XO screwed them over out of bigotry. Anya had a promising career in the Confederacy Defense Force Fighter Command until some entitled prick wouldn’t take no for an answer. Janson was a sworn member of the Republic Marines and RIS. Hell, your Father knows about what we do already. Even odds that some of his top agents, like Loomis and our new friend Scott, have fewer scruples than we do.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” she asked.
“Because you’re important to Whitney, and because it’s equally important to Whitney, even if she hasn’t said it, that you’re a part of this family we’ve built. That means you get to know the score.”
“And just what is the score?”
“We’re thieves, sure, but also we’re social manipulators, a check on some of the worst elements of society in our own way. We’re all pretty damn wealthy as a result and we put that wealth to use where and when we can.” He pointed to a complex of buildings on the side of a hill at the far edge of the city. “See that cluster of buildings on the hill? That’s the Quantis Academy. It’s for kids whose parents can’t afford gene therapies. They get the medical assistance they need, a top flight education to rival any of the dozen academies and prep schools on the planet for rich kids like me, and the kids there are encouraged to pursue any and all of their dreams. And none of them pay a single cent.” There was a clear note of pride in his voice as he described the school.
“Is that your project, then?” she asked.
“Nope. That’s Riley and Anya’s. The school existed already, but it was on the verge of having to close its doors. They’ve been dumping funds into it for a couple years now.” He pointed at a domed building a few blocks away from the apartment. “That’s the Archibald Jimenez Opera House. It was falling to pieces and hadn’t put on a performance since I’ve been alive. Emmy and Janson bought it. They got it recognized as a historical landmark, restored it, and this last July they put on a performance of Faust with an all Lyndri troup. The news feeds couldn’t stop raving about it. Two of the Lyndri Kings came for opening night.”
“What does Whitney do?” Glyse asked.
“That’s really more for her to tell you, but if she hasn’t brought it up yet, ask her about the Galileo Company sometime. I think you’ll like it.”
The door to the balcony slid open and Whitney padded out with a mug held in her hands. Walker gave her a nod and glanced over at Glyse.
“We’re not perfect,” he said, “But I think we’re necessary. I hope that cleared some things up.” He stepped back from the railing and gave both women a smile as Whitney stepped up next Glyse and leaned into her. “Now, I have some fried rice to eat before your brother shows back up and tries to steal it. Don’t be out here too long or you’ll be stuck with egg rolls.” He turned and started walking back into the apartment.
“Hey Walker?” Glyse called after him. He paused and looked back at her. “What’s yours?”
He smiled and looked down for a moment.
“My project is people. I find people with the talents, skills, or just the desire to do some good, and line things up so they can do the most good possible. Put a wealthy playboy with a heart of gold in the path of the Free Lyndri movement, help some would-be pirate king clear out some of the more malignant actors, or maybe just help some lost souls find a place to call home,” he paused and looked back up with a faint smile. “And I include myself in the ‘lost souls’ category.” He turned and strode back into the apartment.
“What was that all about?” Whitney asked Glyse with a glance.
“I think,” Glyse said slowly, “That he was trying to clue me in to what y’all do, or maybe what y’all are to each other.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” Glyse smiled at Whitney. “You know what my family is like. I was raised with this view of family, that they’re distant and all off doing their own things. Even in the squadron we’re a solid group and we mostly get along with each other, but we’re all our own people, ya know?”
Whit nodded slowly.
“But when I see you and this crew? Y’all are different. You’re all tied up in each other’s lives. I’ve never really thought about family that way before.”
Whitney turned and gave her a serious look.
“Yse, besides you and David and your Mom, these people are the closest family I’ve ever had. You remember what I was like back at CNK, right?” Glyse nodded in response. “Well, I’m the functional, sociable lady you know now because Anya, Emmy, and Riley all pretty much taught me how to be a person. Walker showed me how I can use my knowledge and training in the real world, and not just for keeping the Chillkoot running. Mikhail is super scary, sure, but he will drop anything to make sure he’s there for us. He’s the crazy uncle I never knew I needed.”
Glyse leaned forward and rested her forehead against Whitney’s.
“I really didn’t know that, Whit. I’ve only ever been around my disaster of a family or around the military.” She sighed and wrapped Whitney in a hug. “So, they’re your family. I can see it now.” The two of them turned and looked through the windows into the living room where the rest of the crew was digging into takeout boxes and laughing at something Emmy had said. “Can I tell you something Whit?”
“What’s that?”
“I’m kinda jealous.”
Whit leaned her head back and gave Glyse a quick kiss.
“Well, they all like you, so guess what? You’re kinda in.” Whitney said.
“What, like an in-law or something?” Glyse asked. Whitney went stiff in her arms for a second before giving Glyse a long look. A mischievous grin broke over her face.
“I mean, it’s really quick, but if you want them to be in-laws, I think if we get in the ‘koot and get into orbit, Walker can marry us as a Captain,” Whitney laughed at the startled look on Glyse’s face. “Relax, Yse! We’ve been dating for like, four days. I’m not about to propose.”
She started towards the sliding door back into the living room. Just before she reached the door, she turned and gave Glyse a wicked glance.
“At least, not yet.”
Walker padded out of his room as the sun was rising over the Archon Mountains. He glanced out the massive windows and was greeted by the sight of Neo Athens covered in a light dusting of snow. Flurries were still falling and despite the bright, clear sunrise, it promised to be a white Christmas. The line of stockings hanging along the wide mantle drew his eyes. How Riley and Mikhail had managed to hang them without his noticing never ceased to amaze him. Two new stockings caught his eye and he couldn’t help but be impressed that the two had managed to find stockings for Glyse and David.
After brewing a pot of coffee, Walker leaned against the island in the kitchen, sipping the brew and reading through the latest edition of the Freelancer’s Scope. Glyse walked in a few minutes later. Walker greeted her with a nod and pointed to the coffee pot wordlessly. She poured herself a mug of coffee and leaned against the opposite counter, regarding Walker over her mug as she sipped. Walker found himself smirking and set his pad to one side.
“How are you at cooking?” he asked.
“I’m not my brother, but I know which end of a pan to hold,” she said.
He walked over to a pantry and began pulling items from shelves. With an elbow, he pointed at the chiller.
“Grab eggs, milk, and bacon out of there for me please?”
Glyse gave him a curious look as she walked over and pulled the double doors open.
“Why aren’t we ordering breakfast?” she asked.
Walker managed to look vaguely scandalized at the thought.
“Glyse, it’s Christmas Day.”
“Yeah,” she said, setting the milk on the counter. “It’s some big ancient Christian holiday, so what?”
Walker grinned at her as he pulled a skillet and a frying pan down from the ceiling rack.
“Ancient history now, but Christians stole it from older religions and bolted their baggage onto it,” he said, grabbing a mixing bowl from a cupboard. He fished in a drawer and pulled out a whisk. “I don’t particularly care about the religious bit myself,” he said, tossing ingredients into the bowl. “I care that a bunch of restaurants are closed for the holiday, others are preparing for a rush of people who eat out on Christmas Day as a cultural thing, and besides, at the end of the day, cooking is a family activity,” he cracked a couple eggs into the bowl and began adding milk and mixing.
“So is this more ‘welcome Glyse to the family’ stuff?” she asked.
Walker glanced at her.
“Nope,” he pointed at the bacon and eggs. “Pick one of those and get started.” He pulled the whisk out of the mix and checked the consistency before adding some more milk. “If you weren’t in, I wouldn’t be making you help.”
“Really? Just like that?” she asked, incredulous. She dug around in the same cupboard and pulled out a second bowl and began cracking eggs into it.
“Look,” Walker said. “Whitney is head over heels about you, and besides, you’ve fought side by side with all of us, Glyse. Blood and steel go a long way.”
She looked contemplative for a moment as she started beating the eggs.
“I get that, but I don’t think I’ve fought with all of you.”
“Riley, Anya, Emmy, and Whit up on Corona Astra a few days ago. Me way back on the Star Pyre-”
“Gods, don’t remind me!” she groaned. Walker chuckled.
“Couldn’t resist. But last night would count.”
Glyse glared at him before smiling for a second.
“Butter?” she asked. He pointed to the container on the counter. She cut off a pad of butter and tossed it into the frying pan. “I don’t think I’ve ever fought with Janson, though?” she sounded puzzled.
“You have,” Walker said and carefully poured some batter onto the skillet.
“I feel like I would remember that.”
“You want to tell her yourself?” Walker asked without taking his eyes from the skillet. Glyse whipped her head around to see Janson leaning casually against the far counter by the coffee pot, a mug in his large hand.
“I can, but I think you can tee it up better,” the big man shrugged.
“Wait, wait, wait, you’re serious? We’ve fought together?” Glyse sounded completely shocked.
“Da, once back in ‘82.”
“In 2682? I was in the Naval Academy then.”
“Just graduated, I think,” Janson gave her a crooked smile. “You start Walker.”
Glyse looked at Walker.
“Do you remember the Prima Nocta colony?” Walker asked, watching the pancake carefully before he flipped it.
“You were the RIS guy in that hellhole?” Glyse looked at Janson with genuine shock. Janson nodded slowly.
“I have only told Walker and Emmy this, but that place was why I got myself out of RIS.”
“Fuck, I don’t blame you. The guy running that place was…”
“A monster, da.” Janson nodded. “I can tell you that I made sure the women were given treatment and the children were placed in good homes. A man I trust in RIS made it happen.”
“I hadn’t been able to find out how that shook out after we extracted Amalla. Thank you for telling me.”
Janson gave her a lopsided smile.
“Considering your extraction was what allowed me to get my knife into the would-be king, I am fine calling us even on this one. Though I should say that you and I did swap saving each other’s lives earlier that day.”
“Wait really? I only took out maybe three people myself.”
“Two. Shuttle pilot was still alive when I got to him. Less so when I left. The guard outside the isolation bunker was about to execute me when you got him. You told me to run while I had the chance. Then on your way to the shuttle, I took out the sniper taking the potted shots.”
“Pot shots,” Walker said idly.
“Huh. I wondered why the sniper stopped firing. We all kind of assumed that Ericson had ordered a stand down to avoid a stronger response.”
Janson laughed.
“Nyet, Ericson was dead by then.”
“How? Didn’t that dude have an impenetrable panic room?”
“Eh, only mostly impenetrable. He had some small windows. Enough that I could get my knife through.”
“Bullshit,” she laughed. “I looked at those plans. The right kind of knife could get through, but the odds of hitting anyone? Too low to talk about.”
Janson looked over at Walker and pointed across the kitchen.
“May I?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” Walker said, turning around to watch. He gave Glyse a smile. “He’d never admit it, but he likes showing off his party trick.”
“Not trick. Useful skill,” Janson said and held out a hand. Between one blink and the next, he was holding a battered, albeit well maintained, standard issue Republic Marine knife. With seemingly little effort or even any obvious aiming, he flung it across the kitchen where it flew cleanly between two bottles of wine that were practically touching. Glyse hid her surprise fairly well and managed to shake her head in admiration.
“Yeah, that’s a useful skill, alright,” she muttered. After a beat, she gave him a measuring look and muttered something in an oddly lyrical-sounding language. Both Walker and Janson gave her confused looks.
“What dialect of Gaelic was that?” Walker asked. “I thought I had heard them all.”
“Oh, something our Mom used to use,” David said, stepping into the kitchen. “I never did ask her where she learned it.”
Janson nodded, though Walker gave the siblings a contemplative look. Glyse shoved the bowl of eggs at David and pointed at the frying pan.
“Make yourself useful!” she said, grabbing the bacon.
“You could’ve just asked me,” David said later as the two McKenzie siblings settled into their seats on the Freedom Station shuttle.
“Asked you what?” Glyse questioned, not looking up from her pad.
“If Janson was a cousin of ours,” he said, slouching down in the seat. “You didn’t have to pull out the old irish to test it.”
“He has a Velyki,” she hissed at him, pitching her voice low.
David shrugged.
“Yeah, and what, you’re jealous? A Chosen One daughter of the Reaper without her own magic knife?” Laughter danced in his eyes as he teased her. She slugged him in the shoulder. He yelped and rubbed where she had hit him, giving her a dirty look. “Look, you know it’s not an impossible skill to learn. Just because it’s rare doesn’t mean that a stock human couldn’t figure it out, or even just stumble into it,” David closed his eyes and seemed for all the world ready to drift off to sleep. He held up a finger. “Dad at least had Mom to teach him the whole ritual and everything. Janson almost literally stumbled into it, as far as I’ve heard the story. Shouldn’t that be more impressive?”
“It’s fucking dangerous, David. You know that.”
“Glyse, Janson’s a big boy by anyone’s measure. He can handle himself. He has pretty often, if even half the rumors of his time in the Republic’s service are true. He’s tough and scrappy enough that I bet he could probably take one of our cousins, especially if he’s not playing fair.”
“It’s going to attract attention-”
“To Whitney,” he interrupted.
“To all of them, you ass,” she glared at him. “Isn’t Walker, like, your boyfriend or something?”
“Ha!” David barked a laugh. “If either of us swung that way, maybe, hell, even probably. Alsa, he’s destined to be eternally single and I’m stuck doing my best impression of a tom cat.”
“So you’re not even the slightest bit concerned?” her eyes narrowed as she asked.
“If I learned that they somehow earned the attention of our less friendly relatives, I would give Walker a heads up, at the very least,” David said, opening his eyes and giving Glyse a serious look. “Fuck, you think I don’t have a couple of contingency plans in case they draw the attention of those pricks? I’m surprised you haven’t started making your own.”
Glyse spun her pad around and showed him the screen.
“I’m working on it. Dad’s been using the LNI monitoring network to keep track of the Chilkoot whenever they ping a nav beacon. I’m just going to…” her voice trailed off as a dialog box popped up on her pad. “Oh, that asshole!” she hissed.
“What did Dad do now?” David asked. Glyse shoved the pad into his hands and crossed her arms with a huff. David read the dialog box aloud:
“I appreciate you waiting until this morning. Now Liz owes me one of her bottles of McRory whisky from last century. Expect an earful from her about that.” He laughed and handed the pad back to Glyse. “Nice to know that in between plots and schemes he still keeps an eye on what goes on in our lives.”
“Remind me again why I don’t just throw you both in Rhea’s black hole?”
“Because without us your life would be horrifically boring?” David asked innocently.
“No, that sounds pretty nice, actually.” Glyse said.
“Then how about without us the pricks would almost certainly burn the galaxy down?”
“Yeah, that’s a better reason.”
“Also, you love us.”
“Don’t push it.”
Walker’s mother patted his arm as they strolled through the snow-dusted paths of the St. Claremont Municipal Gardens. Brunch had been a full family affair with his sisters and with the Jimenez family. Little Michele, the first grandchild in either family, had been passed around almost as much as the mimosas. Walker had found himself enjoying the brief, carefree moments of being an uncle to the cheerful infant.
“You know,” his mother said, “It’s not too late for you to find someone to settle down with, Walker.”
He smiled fondly at her and shook his head.
“It’s not really a question of it being too late, Mom,” he said. “It’s more an issue of inclination.”
She sighed.
“Yes, that was what I figured.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” he laughed. “Dani gave you a beautiful granddaughter already, and I’m willing to bet she’ll be giving you more soon.” He gave her a conspiratorial look. “I’m also pretty sure Lacy is seeing someone again. She’s got that new relationship bubbliness going again.”
Layla d’Ardenne shook her head.
“You’re dodging the issue, Walker,” she said.
He sighed.
“I know,” he said. “Mom, I’m happy. I really am.” He led her over to a bunch under a heating tower and sat down. “I’ve got some of the best people in the galaxy to work with. I can go wherever I want whenever I want, and,” he paused again and gave her a genuine smile, “I get to help people. A lot of people.”
Layla sighed and leaned against him for a moment.
“None of us have ever really recovered from Daniel’s death,” she said softly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I think I still see the ghost of your father in your eyes sometimes, Walker. You’re not one to drink yourself to death, but I worry about you chasing ghosts into your own grave.”
Walker held himself still and forced himself to drop his masks for a moment.
“Back when Marks found me in ‘74, you would’ve been right. I was on a very self-destructive path. But now? I’ve got a handle on my personal demons, I’ve got people around me who make me better than I’ve ever been, and there’s a lot of good that we can do in front of us.” He glanced down at her. “You and Dad raised me to look off the beaten path for ways to help. I’ve taken that to an extreme, I’ll admit, but that’s still what I’m doing.”
His mother smiled up at him, still a bit sadly.
“Walker, I am very, very proud of you. Your father would be, too. God, I bet he’d be asking to go on adventures with you if he were still around.” Walker barked a laugh at that. “I’m always going to be your mother and that means I’ll always worry about all of my children. Lacy and Dani are easy to check in on. You’re the only one rocketing around the galaxy and getting into trouble. That means my worry is a bit more… pointed with you.”
Walker hugged her close.
“It’s been a long time since your worrying filled me with teenage resentment, Mom. I don’t mind it at all. I just don’t want you to let it stress you out too much.” A thought occurred to him and he pulled back to look at her. “You know, on one of those luxury transports, it’s only a week or so out to Aberdeen. You can visit anytime you want. I can take you to my favorite restaurant out there.”
Layla smiled and patted her son’s cheek.
“Careful what you wish for Walker. I may just make some vacation out there happen for the whole family.”
Walker laughed out loud, the clear sound ringing out over the still, winter landscape.
December 26, 2690 - LSS Revelation, Calysto Orbit
Watching on an observation monitor in his office on the LSS Tisiphone, the view of Calysto was completely occluded by the growing bulk of the LSS Revelation. The Super Dreadnought was one of the largest ships the League had ever constructed and she hung hundreds of kilometers away from both Corona Astra and Freedom Station, simply because neither could properly accommodate her bulk on short notice. McKenzie felt pride well up in him at the sight of the ship. The Admiralty writ-large hated the Revelation-classes as a rule but to McKenzie, they were a beacon of hope and he didn’t mind that they had been pushed into the shadows. They attracted less attention that way.
A few minutes later, the Tisiphone was docked alongside the massive ship. McKenzie watched as the hatches on both ships cycled open and Senior Captain Anastasia Joliet stepped onboard. She offered him a clean salute.
“Admiral,” she said, “Permission to come aboard.”
“Granted, Captain,” he said, returning the salute. He beckoned her to follow him and they walked deeper into the little ship. A few turns later, and they stepped into the Tisiphone’s ready room. McKenzie gestured to a chair as he sat.
“Is Tony joining us?” she asked, referencing the Tisiphone’s Captain Anthony Curtis as she dropped into a chair to his left.
“Not this time,” he said. She nodded and the politely benign smile dropped from her face.
“So why’d you pull us off plan?” Annoyance was clear in her voice and McKenzie fought a smile of appreciation. Anastasia Joliet had never been one to hide her opinions. In the Academy, she had been nearly drummed out of the program for arguing with her Doctrine and Tactics professor over decisions made during one of the opening battles of IW5. McKenzie had been the arbitrator chosen for the tribunal, and after hearing her position, he ordered her and the professor to engage in a simulation of the battle in question. Joliet won in such a spectacular fashion that she was immediately assigned to the Admiralty’s Tactical Analysis and Planning Unit upon graduation. McKenzie fought tooth and claw to have her assigned to the Archigos after her first year. “We’re supposed to be burning for CNK for the official refit evaluation.”
“I’m aware,” he said. “Even if you and I both know this refit is a disaster waiting to happen.”
Joliet nodded.
“Admiral Freeland cornered me last month. She made it clear that the only way we’re getting the Rev left in her current setup is for me to agree to a promotion to Admiral once the whole refit is done.”
“It was the best I could do, Ana,” McKenzie said, weariness apparent in his voice. “They wanted to fully switch her over to the Shadrach specs. I cannot lose the Revelation to their short sightedness.”
“So why pull me off course? That’s just going to piss people off.”
“I’m not, actually. I’m officially redirecting you, per Admirals Harper and Freeland, to deliver several high-value prisoners, some secure evidence, and a handful of LNI agents, to Prometheus on your way out to CNK.” He tapped something on his pad and the screen on the wall behind him lit up with images of the Bloodsign attacks. “Bloodsign tried to attack Calysto twice in the last five days. I have orders to find out what stirred them up so suddenly.”
“So I’m getting diverted to deliver some mail for you?”
McKenzie frowned at her.
“You’re getting diverted because no one short of a small fleet would consider trying to hit a Revelation. An Ares could get there quietly, but if these cultist assholes have any sort of penetration into our system, they could potentially muster enough strength to challenge it in an isolated system. Not you.”
She arched an eyebrow at him, scowling.
“So I’m getting diverted to deliver some expensive mail for you?”
McKenzie snorted a laugh.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“So long as we’re clear, sir.”
“Emmy!’ Whitney yelled. “I am not wearing a slinky black dress to a barbecue!”
“Spoilsport!” Emmy called back from her spot on the couch. Riley walked into the living room of Walker’s apartment and dropped onto the couch legs and arms splaying out at wild angles.
“How are we back around to helping our little bird get dressed for Glyse again,” they asked, pulling out their pad.
“Just lucky I guess,” Emmy said.
“And you tried to get her into the slinky dress again?”
“I will see that girl done up properly, I swear to god.”
Riley laughed as Janson and Walker strode into the room. Walker had his phone out, talking into it.
“Yes, we’re planning on leaving Calysto by the 4th. We should be back at FarSky by the 15th and I’d be more than happy to meet with you then.”
Janson settled into an overstuffed chair and pulled a book from the side table, cracking it open.
“New client?” Emmy asked quietly.
Janson shook his head.
“Lady Emory,” he said.
“Huh,” Riley grunted. “Jobs from both of the top Emory’s within a few weeks of each other? Did we go legit when I was fucking David or something?”
“No, we did not go legit,” Walker said, sliding his phone into his jacket. “Jameson was trying to get around his mother and pick up a Lyndri companion, while Lady Emory wants us to break into Oslo StarDrives to see if they’re actively stealing Emory designs.”
“Ugh,” Emmy groaned. “I hate having to do jobs in Republic Space.”
“We shouldn’t have to,” Riley said idly. Everyone turned to look at them. “Oslo hired a friend of mine to clone two Emory R&D servers maybe seven months ago. They had her deliver the data to a skunkworks site just over the border in Freelance space. We pay her, she gets us the coordinates for that site, bing bang boom.”
“Oslo can’t make a fuss because it’s a secret site anyways,” Emmy said. “And we’re just going to be stealing back stolen data. Nothing they can do.”
“And access logs on servers will indicate who was using the stolen data,” Janson concluded.
Walker gave his crew an admiring look.
“Well, you three just convinced me to take the job. Riley, reach out to your friend and see what she’ll need to remember those coordinates. Emmy, Janson, can you two start poking our sources and see what we can find out about Oslo’s preferred security?”
“You got it, boss,” Riley said.
“Better this than hobnobbing with the League’s high and mighty,” Emmy muttered. Janson laughed.
Walker shook his head and walked over to the bar and poured himself a gin and tonic. Whitney came stomping out of her room in jeans and a cardigan. She went directly to Walker and snatched the drink from his hand, downed it, and shoved the glass back at Walker with a glare.
“What’s wrong Whit?” Emmy asked without looking up.
“I miss my jumpsuit! Ever since that day up on the station, I’ve been having to wear real clothes or expensive clothes all the time and I hate it!”
Riley burst into laughter. Walker shook his head and began mixing another drink.
“Glyse is going to like the sweater, Whitney. Just think about this like a job. You’ve never complained about having to get dressed up for a job.” Emmy said.
“Sure,” Whitney said, pacing back and forth nervously. “But on the job I know it won’t be forever and I can get back into something comfortable relatively quickly. I also know that there are good odds that Janson will blow something up and I won’t have to worry about keeping the clothes nice and pristine.”
“Hey!” Janson protested. “I do not always blow things up.”
Everyone in the room turned and looked at him.
“Sometimes I just stab things,” he said sheepishly.
The chiming of the door interrupted any reply. Walker keyed it open from the bar panel and Glyse, in her faded jeans and fighter jacket stepped in. Whitney gave her a nervous smile.
Glyse walked over and gave her girlfriend a hug.
“I like your sweater, Whit.” she said.
Emmy pointed at Whitney.
“Told ya,” she said.
Whitney rolled her eyes and grabbed Glyse’s hand.
“Let’s go, Glyse,” Whitney grumped.
“Walker, are you riding with us?” Glyse asked.
Walker eyed Whitney.
“No… no, I don’t think so,” he said. Glyse gave him a confused look as Whitney dragged her towards the door. Walker gave her a noncommittal shrug.
“Ok, see you there I guess. The rest of you have fun?” she said as the door hissed shut behind her.
“We need to find Whitney something she can completely rip apart and rebuild,” Janson said, turning a page in his book.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Emmy said, pulling out her phone. “I’ll have Anya poke around and see if she can find some old fighter or something in one of the breaker yards over Aberdeen.”
“Try not to violate any treaties this time,” Walker said, downing his drink. “I’m off, too. Someone needs to hobnob in this crew.”
“Oh! Bring me back some ribs,” Riley yelled as he walked out the door.
The Jupiter pines outside the McKenzie home shimmered a brilliant silver-red in the early evening sunlight as David gazed at them through the windows of his mother’s library. The big tree just outside the window still held the rope swing his father had made for him and Glyse. He smiled briefly at the memory of the four of them laughing under its limbs in a rare moment of peace amidst the madness of their lives.
He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, casting a gaze over the invisible threads of will of his friends and family. Glyse and Whitney’s threads were winding tighter and tighter together every day. His father was a steel cable vibrating like a band saw and slicing through tangles of opposing choices. Liz and his own Captain Achenson were vibrating in harmony for a brief moment. Walker, though, Walker’s thread was concerning. In the last few years it had wound itself tightly with those of his crew, which was to be expected, and had taken on the resilience that he had come to associate with people close to Liz, but now… now it was heading towards a nasty tangle somewhere down the road and a new color was starting to leak into it. One he hadn’t seen before. One that bothered him on a fundamental level somehow. And it was starting to glow in a way he associated with proximity.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” David said aloud. From behind him, Walker snorted and closed the door.
“I wasn’t about to miss the ribs,” Walker said, stepping up next to his friend. “Riley asked me to bring some back for them.”
David held out his phone where a text from Riley was visible.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
“I already know the answer, but I still have to ask. You’re going to be chill with them, right?” Walker asked, taking in the view out the window.
“We talked. They know my deal. I know their’s. That’s about as chill as possible, right?”
“I figured.”
They stood there in companionable silence for a while and Walker let his gaze track around the room.
“This is not what I expected when Glyse said you were in the library,” Walker commented.
David pulled his eyes away from the window and let them sweep around the spartan room and the basic, albeit comfortable, furniture.
“This is Mom’s library. More of a media center, really. Dad’s is probably more what you were expecting. All wood and leather and actual paper books.” He pointed at a tray of AR glasses on the coffee table. “Mom would call up some overlay depending on what mood she was in. The last time I was in here with her, she had this dark, gothic room with a thunderstorm going outside.” He considered for a moment. “That’s probably still the one loaded up. Knowing Dad, he wouldn’t touch her settings.”
Walker looked at him for a long moment.
“Say more.”
David shrugged.
“Not a lot more to say. She died ten years ago in November. Dad and Uncle Kashk took care of the asshole who killed her. I have no idea where Dad stashed him and I’ve never asked because all I could do is kill him and end his suffering.”
“That’s it?” Walker asked.
David closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“I was sure that I couldn’t feel any more pain from that wound, but it turns out I can. I’m fucking pissed that Mom doesn’t get to see Glyse being happy with Whitney. And I’m not pissed at the asshole who killed her. I’m pissed at her for being gone.”
He looked down and flexed his hand a few times, almost surprised it wasn’t curled up in a fist.
“It’s not just that, though,” he said. “Mom was our rock. If any of us needed to lean on someone, we had Mom. Afterwards, well, Dad just threw himself into being the spy master and schemer and has people like Kashk and Jirael to lean on. I have you and my crew on the Spring. But Glyse? She doesn’t have people like that. Not in the same way. She’s got subordinates, not friends. So she’s stuck leaning on idiots and fuck ups like me, and we both know I’m not really stable enough to be leaned on reliably.”
“That’s why you were so intent on pushing her at Whitney,” Walker remarked. David nodded without comment.
“I’ve been told by experts that what you’re describing there is how people like us process grief,” Walker said. “We come to terms with the actual loss fairly easily, but the absence…” he shook his head. “That takes longer.” He gave his friend a measured look. “You’re more stable than you know, David. A lot more stable than you were when we met. Even if you don’t believe it, you are someone who can be relied on.”
David didn’t respond, just gazed out the window again. Walker didn’t push him, he just stood there, taking in the sunset and the slow emergence of the Jupiter pines’ bioluminescence.
“How long did it take you?” David asked.
“What, to get over the absence of my Dad? Or my brother?”
“Yeah.”
Walker cocked his head to one.
“The honest answer is that I haven’t. The party yesterday was the first time I’ve met my niece in person and one of my overriding thoughts was ‘I should be able to hand her over to Daniel and hear my Dad crack some awful joke about diapers’ and got all mad at them both for not being there.” He looked at David. “All we can do is what you and I do best: we adapt, we adjust, and we get on with it.”
“Does it ever bother you just how cold we sound?”
“It used to. I didn’t have a furnace of emotions for an adoptive Aunt so I had to surround myself with people who burn hot enjoying life. It helps.”
David barked a laugh.
“That makes some sense.”
Walker clapped him on the shoulder.
“Come on, there’s some life to be enjoyed out there.”
“What, did you talk Riley into coming?”
“You have got to expand your horizons beyond getting laid.” Walker said with a laugh. “Now, you need to make an appearance. Glyse sent me in here to get you out of your funk and I’d rather not get back on her shit list.”
“Ah, being on her shit list is how you know she cares,” David said as they walked to the door.
“Your family dynamic is truly fucked.”
“Maybe by normal standards, but who the hell ever said the McKenzie’s were normal? Besides, I like it this way.”
Whitney was, in a word, overwhelmed.
The last week of her life had been an emotional rollercoaster, between her and Glyse making their relationship official, saving a space station on a time limit, and dealing with death cultists. She was enjoying the sheer amount of time she was having with Glyse, but if she was being honest, she was missing the simplicity of the Chilkoot’s engine room or her apartment back on FarSky.
Her girlfriend (thinking about that still made her stomach do flips) nudged her shoulder with her own.
“Calysto to Whitney,” Glyse said softly. “You still in there?”
Whitney blinked a few times and gave Glyse a smile.
“Sorry, I was thinking about this last week.”
“Still happy with how it turned out?” Glyse asked.
Whitney narrowed her eyes.
“Don’t start that again. You know I’m happy about it, and if you’d be honest, you are too.”
Glyse bit back a self-deprecating comment and gave Whit a small smile.
“It’s definitely growing on me,” she said, attempting to mollify her girlfriend.
“Can we just try to not make fighting cultists a holiday tradition?”
“Knowing the lives we all lead,” came a deep gravelly rumble from behind the two women. They turned to see the hulking form of a NorAellian. “I doubt that’s a promise that little Glyse can make.” He grinned at Glyse and leaned down, extending a hand to Whitney. “You must be the engineering prodigy who captured my niece’s heart.”
Whitney felt herself blush and shook the offered hand. She could practically feel Glyse fighting off her own blush, substituting it for a glare aimed at the giant.
“It’s very nice to meet you…” she trailed off.
“Whitney, this is my uncle Kashk, the NorAellian Chief Ambassador to the League,” Glyse said. “I’d say he’s not normally this embarrassing-”
“But you try not to be a liar and my mate is frequently embarrassing if not outright frustrating,” came a Lyndri voice. From around the NorAellian’s bulk, stepped a short but lithe Lyndri. She treated them both to a smile and a bow. Kashk grinned down at the three women fondly.
“If I did not keep you all on your toes, I fear you would lose your edge,” he said. Glyse and the Lyndri glared at him while Whitney just looked perplexed.
“Go and bother Al’sev’tir you impossible lizard,” the Lyndri said, poking him lightly with a finger. Kashk laughed and gently made his way to the back patio. Glyse shook her head and gestured at the Lyndri.
“Whitney, this is Jirael, the Lyndri’s Chief Ambassador to the League.”
Jirael gave Whitney a contemplative look.
“Ah, it is very good to meet you. If you’ll forgive me, I must say that I am truly delighted at how little like your mother you seem to be,” Jirael said.
Whitney shook her head ruefully.
“I guess you’ve met Rhea, then?”
“Several times,” Jirael remarked. “Though I will say that despite her poor opinion of every other living thing in the galaxy besides herself, she does frequently speak highly of you in her own way.” She looked over at Glyse. “You selected your mate very well, Major. I think your own mother would be pleased.”
Glyse smiled, a touch sadly if Whitney was any judge.
“I hope so,” she said.
Jirael smiled warmly at both women and stepped up next to them.
“Come, let us make sure that the men aren’t plotting,” she said, looping her arms through one of each of theirs and guiding them through the vaulted living room.
Nicholas Hayes saw the McKenzie house come into view through the gravcar’s windshield and sighed in relief. From next to him, he heard his wife snort at the sigh.
“You’ll run headlong into combat without blinking, but you can’t handle ten minutes of your children ganging up on you?” Isabella Hayes had laughter dancing in her eyes when he glanced over at her. He grinned in response.
“Plasma bolts and railgun rounds aren’t nearly as frightening as the three of them focusing fire on a target together,” he said with a laugh.
She reached over and patted his thigh.
“You’re just saying that because you miss the kind of fighting where you could see your enemies,” she said.
“More truth to that than I’d like to admit,” he muttered. From behind him, he heard his oldest daughter, Amanda, mutter a curse under her breath. He glanced around to see what had caused her reaction and noticed the beat up, ancient gravbike parked near the gravel landing pad and grimaced. Mandy and David were currently on an “off” cycle in their perpetual on-again/off-again chase. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that they’d either pick a position or that Mandy could make herself move on.
He brought the car in for a landing next to the large skimmer that had undoubtedly carried Ambassador Kashk to the McKenzie house. He spun his seat around and looked at his three daughters.
“Remember, best behavior around any ambassadors and for the love of god, can we please try to avoid-” he was cut off as his youngest, Jennifer, let out a shriek and dove out of the car. Julia and Amanda weren’t far behind.
“Why do I even bother?” he asked. Isabella laughed and squeezed his shoulder.
“Because you’re a good man who desperately wants his kids to be happy and ok,” she said.
“I would also like to avoid getting on my boss’ bad side or being responsible for an international incident.”
“Bah,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Al wouldn’t ever cast blame on our girls, especially when it comes to his son. He knows just as well as we do that Glyse and David are almost always the instigators, not the girls.”
Nicholas nodded and climbed out of the car, holding out his hand for his wife. They both smiled as they passed their three girls being introduced to Glyse’s new girlfriend.
“We raised good kids, Iz,” he said.
“Yeah, we really did.”
Walker’s phone buzzed as he and David stepped back into the massive, vaulted living room and he stepped over against a wall to check it while David made his way out to the patio. A text message from an unknown number glowed on the screen:
[You have meddled in forces beyond your ken. The Bloodsign is undiminished and despite your best efforts, the gates will still fall. I have foreseen it. A future of rampant brutality where blood will flow like wine. Let it be known: the eye of the Father of Knives is upon you.]
Walker grimaced at the text for a moment before he keyed open a new message:
[Cavalier, need to know who just sent me a text and where they are. Name your price.]
Almost immediately, the reply came back:
[Wait one]
The door to the house opened and Walker glanced up to see two women walk in. Lizbeth Locke was escorted by her frequent paramour (and definitely not girlfriend) Captain Emelyn Achenson, a well-known pirate queen flying the only full-spec Archigos-class in Freelance space, and David’s employer. He nodded in their direction as they walked by heading to the backyard and looked back down as his phone buzzed again.
[ID unknown. Looks like a professional wipe. Top tier job. Like, spook-level. Specific coords are incoming, but the short version is New Corinth. You owe me a favor.]
Walker glared at the message before he put his phone in his pocket and strode out to the patio. Liz and Emelyn and two young women Walker didn’t immediately recognize had David cornered on one side of the patio. Glyse, Whit, and a third young woman Walker recognized as Mandy Hayes stood with Jirael, Admiral Christia Freeland, and a woman who could only be the mother of the three young women: Isabella Hayes. Kashk and McKenzie were standing by the bar with Colonel Nicholas Hayes and Captain Owen Rees of the LSS Archigos. Walker made his way over to them, nodding at all four.
“d’Ardenne,” Rees said with a nod. “Avoiding any sculpture-making I hope?”
Walker fought off a grin.
“I’m happy to say my artistic experiments are behind me,” he said with a straight face.
“I understand Quinn still has your last effort on his desk,” McKenzie said.
Walker smirked.
“That means he’s still taking the lesson,” he said. “I’m not unhappy about that.”
Hayes glanced between the three and looked over at Kashk.
“Is it bad that I’m hoping you’re as lost as I am?” he asked.
“Hmmm…” the lizard rumbled. “I do believe I am, but the way they’re talking makes me think that they are discussing a trophy of some sort.”
“Accurate, Ambassador,” Walker said, “Depending on your interpretation of ‘trophy’ I suppose. I prefer to think of it as an object lesson.”
McKenzie laughed and Rees just shook his head.
“You came over here all stormy, Walker,” McKenzie said after a moment. He pointed at the bar. “Mix yourself a drink and spit it out.”
Walker shrugged and stepped behind the bar. A few moments later he produced a neat gin and tonic. He pointed at Hayes, the only other person at the bar without a drink.
“What would you like, Colonel?”
“Oh, an Old Fashioned if you can manage it.”
Walker started mixing the drink and glanced at McKenzie.
“The Bloodsign’s Father just texted me. I had a friend figure out coordinates. Shoot me Agent Scott’s contact and I’ll forward them on.” McKenzie nodded and pulled out his phone. A moment later, Walker’s phone buzzed in his jacket.
“The leader of the fucking Bloodsign has your phone number?” Rees asked incredulously.
“He seems to, yeah. I’m not thrilled about that and I’m going to have all of my team’s coms scrubbed before we head back out.”
“I should’ve guessed that you’d get called on to sort out the cult,” Rees said, taking a sip of his drink. Walker slid Hayes his Old Fashioned. Hayes took a sip and gave Walker a surprised look.
“Damn, that’s good,” he said. Walker shrugged and looked at Rees.
“My crew and I have no real interest in dealing with them. We only did the station thing because most of my crew was on site already and we were the only ones who could at that moment.” He shot McKenzie a look. “And they still wound up in a cell.”
“Don’t get mad at me about it,” McKenzie said with a grimace. “Station security on the Astra has a new number two who’s trying to push for their operational independence and no one has set them straight yet. Thankfully, throwing my daughter in a cell has been…” he paused and considered his next words. “Educational for him.”
Rees nudged Hayes in the ribs.
“In other words, he reestablished the pecking order in the galaxy to suit his whims.”
Hayes buried a smile in his tumbler and took a sip of his drink. Kashk laughed and McKenzie rolled his eyes.
“If my brother could pull off that trick, I’d imagine he would be a much more pleasant individual without so many worries,” Kashk said, still laughing.
“Fuck no,” Rees shot back, “He’d just find new things to be insufferable about!”
They all laughed. Kashk stepped closer to the bar and leaned down to Walker.
“I heard I have you to thank for bringing down the rogue Fashtr,” he said to Walker.
“I planned it, but Glyse, David, and Liz were the ones who actually took him down.”
“And got pretty busted up in the process of taking him alive,” Glyse said as her group crowded around the bar. Jirael slipped comfortably under Kashk’s arm while Isabella leaned against Hayes’ shoulder. Walker noticed that Christia and McKenzie were standing very close together. He glanced over at Glyse who had slipped behind the bar as well and was mixing drinks for the ladies. She saw his glance and shrugged, a small smile playing across her face.
“I do appreciate the effort, though I should tell you that he is almost certainly doomed to death already,” Kashk let out a low growl. “Individuals like that are a danger to the whole.”
McKenzie coughed.
“Once our interrogations are done, we’ll ship him to you. What happens after that isn’t our problem,” he said.
“Not that many people will shed a tear for a death cultist that allegedly ate other members of the cult,” Admiral Freeland spoke up.
Kashk shook his head.
“Unacceptably barbaric behavior,” he said. “We ceased being obligate carnivores an eon ago. The only reason to do that is to inspire fear.”
“No one ever said death cults were made up of sane people,” Jirael said. “No matter the species, the fringe religions always attract the insane ones.”
McKenzie pushed himself away from the bar.
“On that cheery note, who’s ready to eat?”
Whitney sat back from the table and pushed a plate of rib bones away from her with a groan. Next to her, Glyse was still working on her pile of ribs while talking with Julia and Jennifer Hayes. Whit smiled at how much like an older sister Glyse was to them and it highlighted for her how little their own relationship had ever been like that. Across the table from her, Mandy Hayes was picking at her ribs and trying her best to not look over at David. Glyse had warned her about this particular minefield on the ride to the house.
“Those two are infuriating. If David would just realize how much he’s changed and grown, he might realize that she would be a good fit for him. She needs to figure out if she’s really willing to try or not. If they can do that, then those two idiots could go have adventures on unknown planets while she finishes up her dissertation on the GikDaa, and make each other really happy in the process. It would also spare the rest of us from either her moping or his moodiness about it.”
Whitney leaned forward towards Mandy and the other woman glanced up.
“I don’t really know anything about the GikDaa, at least not their culture, but their tech is absolutely fascinating,” she said. Mandy’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of her field of study. Her siblings both groaned. Whitney looked over at them curiously.
“Please don’t get her started,” Jennifer said.
“She’s like one of those ancient toys,” Julia said. “Except that when you wind her up, she doesn’t just waddle in a rough circle and make squeaky noises. She goes on and on and on about these mysterious tech goblins until she loses her voice or someone,” she glared down the table at David who looked back at her with an innocent look on his face, “Has to throw her in a pool.”
“That sounds pretty familiar,” Walker said with a significant look at Whitney. “If you ask Whitney the right question about how an engine works, she won’t stop for hours.”
“That happened one time!” Whitney grumbled.
“Admittedly, it was about a GikDaa engine design that we…” his voice trailed off briefly as he glanced around the table, “liberated and delivered to a NorAellian embassy.”
“Stole,” Rees said. “You mean stole.”
“Yeah, I mean stole.”
Isabella Hayes managed to look slightly scandalized until Liz leaned across the table.
“Was that the time you broke into House Rampart’s private gallery on Domov?”
“One of them, yeah,”
“You’ve broken into the private gallery of one of the most powerful Houses in the Republic more than once?” Isabella squeaked.
“Three times so far,” Walker nodded. “First time was for the GikDaa designs-”
“Which, by the by, the GikDaa are still wanting to thank you directly for,” Kashk said with a laugh.
“Second time, well, it turns out that Governor Frost really hates Governor Rampart and didn’t appreciate him displaying one of her daughter’s pieces in that hell gallery.”
“And the third time?” Christia asked.
“Governor Frost really, really didn’t like Rampart having her daughter’s art. He went and bought another one to spite Frost. So we stole an entire wing.”
The table was silent for a second before most of the people seated burst out laughing.
Both moons were high in the sky by the time the people at the barbecue began to lose steam. From his chair by the fire pit, Walker let his gaze drift over the gathering. Jennifer Hayes was curled up on a lounger, sleeping. Julia, David, Glyse, and Jirael had gone inside to spar in the fighter sims in the basement gameroom. Isabella and Nicholas were seated together across from Liz and Em talking about the state of education in Freelance space. Whitney and Mandy were sitting at the bar talking about various aspects of the GikDaa. Kashk was lounging near them, occasionally offering his first hand knowledge of his “little cousins.” McKenzie, Freeland, and Rees were seated with Walker around the fire pit.
“I think I’ve finally figured out why you hold these little gatherings, Alistair,” Christia said from where she leaned against him.
“I didn’t think it was a guessing game,” McKenzie said.
“Every damn thing you do is a guessing game, Al,” Rees muttered into his mug. McKenzie casually flipped him off without taking his eyes from Christia.
“It’s a reminder about why you fight so damn hard,” she said.
McKenzie smiled.
“Very close, Chris, very close,” he said and looked at Rees. “Care to take a swing at it, Owen?”
“I’m nowhere near drunk enough to take any swings at you,” he said with a scowl.
“Fair enough,” McKenzie laughed. “Walker? Care to take a shot?”
“If the Admiral was close, then I’d say,” Walker said, sounding appropriately inquisitive, “you don’t do it for you. You do this to remind everyone else.”
McKenzie pointed with glass.
“Exactly. I’ve never been unsure about why I’m fighting, but sometimes, we get lost in the day to day and it helps to have a reminder like this.” He pointed off into the darkness of his property. “Back that way is a pond and when I first bought this place, I went back there and planted a Sequoia that had been modified to grow on Calysto. I will never see it grow to its full height, but if we do our jobs, fight our fights, then someday a descendant of mine will be able to sit under that massive tree, safe and secure.”
He looked around the group still on the patio and smiled warmly.
“It was never for me. Even before Glyse and David were around, I was doing it for them.”
“So it’s not just two moves ahead that you think,” Rees said, “It’s two generations?”
“If I’m not trying to make a better life for those two generations away, what’s even the point?” McKenzie asked.
“I dunno,” said Christia with a yawn. “You could always look for peace for yourself.”
“Maybe I’ll retire someday and take up fishing,” McKenzie said, smiling at her.
Rees laughed.
“Yeah, and maybe someday I’ll voluntarily step away from the Archie.”
“Don’t do that, Owen,” McKenzie said. “That’s my biggest professional regret.”
“Oh I’m fucking aware. They’ll have to drag my corpse out of the chair to get me off that ship.”
He raised his mug to the stars.
“Here’s to planting shade trees we will never sit under.”
McKenzie, Freeland, and Walker all raised their drinks.
“To better days for those who come after us,” McKenzie said and drank.