Was Once a Hero

chapter Eight





Fenaday groaned as reemergence brought him back to the land of the living. “I think living,” he muttered, fighting dizziness. He sometimes felt that he left larger and larger pieces of himself in hyperspace each jump. Maybe one day he wouldn’t come back at all. Vision returned slowest, lagging sound, which started as a roar in one’s ears then muted to the normal operating sounds of a starship. There was nothing to smell but canned, tasteless air. Gradually shapes began to form before his eyes, followed by a gray light and finally color.

“Status,” he croaked.

“No targets on scan,” Sharon Hafel said, her own voice rough and hoarse.

“Ship speed is .66C,” Nye added. “Momentum from Sol system is still with us.”

“Weapons armed and ready,” Wardell said.

“Engines and ship systems nominal,” Telisan said.

Fenaday’s stomach lurched and he only partly smothered the groan.

“The long fast ones are the worst,” said Telisan, standing beside him.

“At least have the decency to look ill,” Fenaday groused. The Denlenn seemed fresh and ready for anything. Fenaday, as usual after a jump, wanted a shower and some sleep. Jump was hard on the human body. Why, no one knew. Dobera and his department would be running through the ship, handing out food and drinks laced with restoratives. Sickbay would have a few people overcome by jump sickness.

“Well,” Fenaday said, “no immediate threat nearby. Still. Bernard, Hafel, do you have that holographic camouflage on line?”

“Aye, sir,” Bernard answered. She was one of Mandela’s people, a brilliant young comp tech. “System just came back up. Wish I’d been able to look at the machinery itself, though.”

A thought Fenaday shared. Mandela’s shipwrights had cannibalized a large forward compartment and sealed it. He had no idea what was in it. Gandhi had told him on his final call that if the seal was broken, they might as well not come back.

“Engage holographic camouflage. Let’s see if Mandela’s expensive toy works,” Fenaday ordered.

Sidhe went into stealth mode. Her holographic generators slowly cloaked the warship’s hull with the appearance of an asteroid. Other stealth devices installed by the navy reduced her radar signature by fifty percent. Not invisible, but comfortingly obscure, Fenaday thought.

“Helm,” Fenaday said, “put this solar system on the main screen. I want constant update from scan.”

Micetich manipulated controls and Sidhe’s main screen fractured into a computer schematic overlaid with multiple views in long and short scan. On it they could see their ship, arrowing in from beyond the orbit of the twelfth world. Star charts listed the primary as Britton 335, known locally as Mur. A G5 star, larger and hotter than Sol, it sleeted out more radiation. Moonless Enshar orbited farther from Mur than Earth did from Sol. Duna had told him that the higher radiation count factored in the development of burrowing creatures on Enshar.

“Communications have interrogated and received a microburst data dump from the master satellite at the system’s edge,” Hafel advised.

“Okay, shut down,” Fenaday said. Other than that microburst, Sidhe emitted no radiation. Fenaday wanted to run silent.

“Pass the information to Duna and the science team,” he told Telisan. “I’m sure they’re clawing the paint off the lab walls.”

Behind him, Dobera and a steward entered the bridge accompanied by Shasti. As usual, Shasti showed no sign of any discomfort from the star jump. She pulled a coffee and protein bar off Dobera’s cart and handed it to Fenaday. His stomach rebelled at the idea of food, but he welcomed the coffee. Taking the cup, he sat back with a sigh. There’d be little to do until the scientists finished their initial work on the satellite information.

Answers came back quickly. The information, only minutes old, added nothing to what Mandela supplied them.

“Well,” Fenaday said, looking at the screen. “Lafayette, we are here.”

*****

The starship began braking gently. Fenaday aimed for the two large gas giants in mid system. Sidhe would use their gravity to brake further in order to enter the inner system at a sane speed. Star systems change and the charts on Enshar had not been updated since the disaster. Fenaday didn’t plan on inhaling a chunk of rock at relativistic speed so the voyage to Enshar from the system’s edge would take two weeks. Two very long weeks.

Fenaday again sought to fill the time with drill and work. Distractions only helped a little. As they neared their destination, Duna found much of the friendliness toward him evaporating. The crew no longer felt heroic; they felt cold, scared and mean. Sidhe began to wind like a watch spring.

*****

The sound of shouting brought Shasti running toward the mess hall. She raced in, spotting a mass of struggling men and women around the bolted-down tables. Before she could even shout an order, a slim form burst in from the opposite hatchway, slamming into the knot of crewman and scattering bodies with bone-breaking power.

HCR, she realized. “Freeze,” Shasti shouted. “Freeze, now!”

The room stilled immediately. The HCR held one man down, his arm levered into an agonizing position.

“That was good advice,” said a droll voice. Shasti turned. Mmok had entered from the other side, trailed by another of the deadly machines and by Daniel Rigg.

“It wasn’t advice,” Shasti growled, stalking forward. “That was an order. Stand at attention.” She looked the group over. To her annoyance they were mostly her LEAFs, though all were new hires. One of Rigg’s ASATs, a powerful looking, shorthaired man stood facing them. From the bruises on the Landing Force Troops, he’d given better than he’d got.

“What the hell is going on here?” Shasti demanded. They all looked at the floor, like children. But there was nothing child-like in the danger of riot and disorder in the small, delicately balanced ecology of a starship. Men died for upsetting it.

“I won’t ask again.” Shasti said, walking among them. She smelled fear on one woman and turned to glare into her eyes.

The trooper couldn’t hold her stare. “It was Greywold, Commander. He said that the ASATs were talking us down. Saying that we were trash…”

Greywold, Shasti thought. I am going to regret not trusting my second guess on that one. She scanned the LF troops. “Excellent,” Shasti observed. “You took advice from a man who cut and ran on a fight.” The chagrined troopers looked about. Greywold was nowhere to be seen.

“And what’s your story?” Dan Rigg snapped.

Shorthair snapped to attention. “Provocation, sir.”

“Soldier, when you are provoked you come see me, you don’t go hand-to-hand on duty and in space.”

“Sir. Yes, sir. No excuse, sir.”

Mmok laughed silently. “Doesn’t look like your fellow was doing too badly, Dan. Maybe Commander Rainhell ought to thank you for giving her slackers a lesson.”

“Shut up, Mmok,” Shasti said. “And get your machine off that man.”

Mmok’s lips thinned. His one eye narrowed.

“Orders on punishment, ma’am,” Rigg interjected. “Or do you want to leave that to me?” He moved to stand next to Shasti and stared at Mmok. “Discipline needs to be maintained, now more than ever. Right, sir?”

Mmok glanced away from Shasti. His sardonic face slid back into place. Behind him, in response to an unseen signal, the HCR released the trooper’s arm. It walked up to stand at Mmok’s shoulder. A not so subtle warning not to push him.

Shasti considered. Rigg was ostensibly her number two and he’d just backed her. She and Fenaday suspected that Mmok had been given authority to command the ASATs if it came to a break, but until then, both Rigg and Mmok reported to her. Still, the ASAT was clearly the more approachable and used to dealing with standard humans.

“That might be as well, Mr. Rigg,” she said. “My plan was to space all of them and use the food and air on the more deserving.” Her cool eyes rolled over the pale and nervous crewman.

“I’m sure Sgt. Rask and the Toks can find a lot of double duty for them,” Rigg said. “Maybe with five hundred laps in full gear around the hanger as well.” He turned to the ASAT soldier. “You got any complaint about leading that little run, mister?”

“Sir. No, sir.” said Shorthair.

“Lead them down there. Double time, mister.” The ASAT saluted and the LF troops shuffled out after him, leaving the three humans and two robots. Stewards appeared from the kitchen to clean up the mess.

“The next person,” Shasti said, “who breaks discipline is going to take a bullet to the skull. I am not losing control of the deck of this ship.”

“Agreed,” Rigg said. “Hard though it may be for you to hear, if there’s a problem it will be among your new people. Your older hands, particularly your trouble team are as reliable as my folks, but the newbies...”

Shasti nodded. “I’ve got my best people dispersed at all critical areas.”

“May not be enough,” Rigg said.

“My people,” Mmok said, grinning and stressing the word people, “never sleep and they never stress. They’re the happiest of warriors.”

“Keep one here then,” she said, feeling ambiguous about having to rely on the cyborg. “Cover Duna, the bridge and engineering. I’ll get Captain Fenaday to clear an HCR for bridge access.”

He gave her a sloppy salute.

“We have another problem,” Rigg said. “I was coming to see you when I heard the scrap.”

“What?”

Rigg looked embarrassed. “I’m afraid that I didn’t list a weapon when we logged them into the arms room.”

“You mean the personal .38 slug-throwers you and Rask hid?” she asked.

Rigg’s mouth hung open. Mmok gave a low whistle, seeming to enjoy Rigg’s discomfiture. “You’re busted,” he observed.

“If you think you can hide something from me on my own ship, you’re mistaken,” she said, her face cold and foreboding.

“Yes, ma’am. My weapon is missing. I kept it locked in my personal locker. Someone picked the lock and went through my stuff last night.”

“Twice,” Shasti said, folding her arms across her chest. “The first time it was me. Last night was someone sloppy.”

“So we have a loose gun aboard,” Mmok said. “Suspects?”

“Greywold,” Rigg said. “His record shows priors for theft. It got him thrown out of the Deutsche Brigade. I searched his locker, but he’s not dumb enough to keep it there.”

“HCRs can find it,” Mmok said.

“Get them on it,” she said.

“We’ll turn both weapons in to the arms room, after mine’s found,” Rigg said.

“Keep them,” she said. “But keep them on you at all times from now on.” She walked toward the entrance, then paused. “Just like Mr. Mmok keeps his palm laser on him.”

Mmok looked startled for a second. “One for you.”

Hours later the pistol showed up, hidden behind an air duct. The thief had been careful enough to keep prints off of it, but Shasti had little doubt of the thief’s identity. It didn’t take her long to make up her mind about what to do about it.

*****

Two days before Enshar orbit, Fenaday was on his way to the bridge when Shasti called him on their private channel.

“Fenaday here, secure.”

“Meet me in Arms Four,” she said and clicked off.

Worried by the cryptic call, he hurried to the arms room near the main hanger deck. Their combined landing force, including Mmok’s robots, had suited up and was outside, practicing ship-boarding tactics. Shasti should be with them.

Instead, he found her in her small office near the weapons storage area, suited up but with her helmet off, watching a security monitor. She looked up from the monitor as he entered. On it he could see ASAT’s and LEAF’s scrambling over the ship’s hull.

“What’s up?” he asked.

She gestured at the screen. “Greywold.”

“Damn. He acting up again?” Fenaday said wearily.

“For the last time,” she said grimly. “I have him out on the tail end of the ship, alone. I need you to make it sound like I’m still onboard. I’m a simulated casualty in the war game. They won’t be looking for me. I’ll need a minute to get there, kill him and get back. I’ll make it look enough like an accident so we won’t have problems when we get back to the Confederacy. People will get the message anyway.”

Ice formed in his stomach. I’ve grown too comfortable around her, he thought. She’s not people, as I know people. Christ, I used to think the corporate lawyers were cutthroats. I wonder if someday I’ll find myself on the losing side of some such calculation with her?

“No,” he blurted.

“What?”

“You can’t just kill him,” he said, trying to keep the shock out of his voice.

“He’s a liability,” she said impatiently. “He’s not working out. You know we stand balanced on a knife’s edge here. We need control and he threatens that control. He also provides me with a tailor-made chance to enforce discipline and lose nothing more than a weakling.”

They stared at each other.

“Find another way,” he said.

“You’re being a fool,” she said. “He’s more useful this way.”

“No,” he said quietly. “Don’t bring this up again.” He turned and left, knees shaking.

*****

On the eleventh day of the voyage in from the system’s edge, they came within direct range of Enshar with their own more sophisticated instruments. Fenaday stood on the bridge, with a full crew, plus Duna, Mmok, and Rigg. Shasti was also there. She and Fenaday were still recovering from the aborted assassination of the day before, carefully stepping in the delicate dance they’d done before when one or the other overstepped a boundary.

The main view screen lit. Simultaneously several parts of the screen began to display different views, some visual, some radar or infra-red.

“Enshar,” Duna said raptly. The word held a devotion about it. “Enshar, with my own eyes.”

“Massive radar contact,” announced Hafel, “right where expected.” The screen switched to a debris field. Nothing recognizable showed, just points of reflected light.

“My God,” Katrina Micetich said, “I saw Bifor Station once from a freighter. It was huge. You could see it from the ground in daylight. What could destroy something like that? Murbicko was even larger than Bifor.”

“And it’s gone too,” Fenaday snapped. “Ancient history, Micetich. I want a geosynchronous orbit over the city of Gigor in the Northern States. Coordinates are in the computer. Set up the course, Mr. Nye, and transfer it to her station.

“Hafel, keep a close eye on radar. There’s a lot of junk in orbit. I don’t want to be holed.

“Gunners, keep a radar lock as well. Open fire on anything vectoring in on us that does not emit current IFF. Weapons are free.”

Twenty minutes of maneuvering inserted Sidhe into orbit at a height of one hundred fifty kilometers. She ghosted over a world emptied of intelligent life. Animals moved on the face of the world, infesting its cities and fields. The domed cities stood largely intact. Little of the ruination could be seen although rents and burned places marred some domes.

“We’re coming up on initial orbit over Gigor base,” Nye said. “Gigor was home to Enshar’s space forces and it’s where the Confederate fleet’s shuttles landed.”

Shasti gestured with a long, elegant finger. “There they are.”

“Maximum magnification, Hafel,” Fenaday said. Sidhe’s optics could focus on a can of rations from her height. Three Wolverine assault shuttles from the original landing force Telisan had accompanied leapt into stark focus. Other than being overgrown by grasses, they seemed unchanged from the moment of their landing over three years earlier.

“Deploy probes,” ordered Fenaday. These dropped from Sidhe, parachuting to landings around Gigor and other locations. It took the rest of the first orbit to deploy all ten of them.

“The only remarkable thing about the probes,” Mourner announced after the second orbit, “is their survival. They’ve landed and begun sensing—air: normal, water: normal, radiation: normal, soil: normal, no detectable biohazard, and no detectable chemical weapons. It seems that, other than for the overnight extermination of the Enshari people, Enshar itself is a normal world.”

As they continued to cruise over the planet-sized tomb, Fenaday watched Duna’s joy at seeing his home evaporate. The old scholar gazed at the world that gave birth to his species and then murdered its offspring. Telisan stood next to him, a hand on the Enshari’s shoulder, his face drawn with worry. Duna had not left the bridge since they reached instrument range ten hours before.

“Belwin,” Telisan said, “perhaps some rest—”

“No, my young friend. I am here to fight whatever it is that has taken our planet, and that means a study of the disaster. I draw great solace from the fact that our probes, unlike the fleet probes, have not gone inactive. Still, against the weight of the empty world below, that fact seems a slim reed on which to rest one’s hope for survival.”

The two walked over to Fenaday’s chair. “What now, Captain?” Duna asked.

“A proper government research vessel,” Fenaday said in a low voice, “might spend weeks or months studying Enshar before attempting a landing. Even as well-equipped as we are, we don’t have those resources. I also have doubts about keeping Sidhe’s crew in line while so close to Enshar for an extended period. The ship is a powder keg. In the end, regardless of tests, only one thing will tell us if Enshar is habitable—a landing.”

“I fear that you are right, Captain,” Duna said.

“We’ll see what the scientists have after the first day’s orbit,” Fenaday concluded.

*****

Another day passed. They learned nothing they did not know before. After the end of their second day in orbit, Fenaday called a staff meeting. The doctors, scientists and technicians gave sometimes lengthy reports. The information summed up easily.

“We’re getting nothing from orbit,” Fenaday said. “Animal tests won’t tell us anything. We can see plenty of animals from orbit. The sole new factor is the continued existence of our electronic probes on world. That fact does not change my opinion; it’s not safe to land the Sidhe. We will proceed with the final plan. I’ll take a Wildcat fighter and attempt a landing. If anything threatens, I’ll abort, if I can, and that will be the end of this attempt on Enshar. If nothing goes wrong, then I’ll go for a landing. Provided I am not attacked within an hour of that landing, the shuttles under Commander Rainhell will land three hours later. Our force will establish a perimeter on world and begin the investigation.

The room stirred at his announcement. Some faces bore eager expressions; others looked at him as if he was already dead.

“Any questions?” he asked.

“Yes,” began Telisan, “though it is not a question. There are two fighters on the Sidhe. I wish to take the other one and accompany you. One man alone cannot face whatever is down there.”

“If there is something down there,” Fenaday replied, “all you could do is die with me. One is enough to find out.”

“No,” replied Telisan equally firmly. “You signed me as executive officer based on my experience as a wing commander in the war. Take my advice now. I would never send a single pilot on such a task. You cannot watch your back and perform a mission. That is what wingmen are for.

“There is an old saying among my people,” Telisan continued, “‘one man alone on a wall is half a man. Two men can be an army.’ I tell you,” he finished, with more passion than Fenaday had seen the easy-going Denlenn exhibit before, “that you cannot face this alone. There is no one else aboard who can handle a fighter with a tenth my skill. You need a wingman. I am that wingman.”

“Makes sense,” Mmok chipped in.

“It does,” Duna added. “I wish it did not.”

“I know you lost friends there—” Fenaday began.

“This has nothing to do with that,” interrupted the Denlenn. “I swore I would serve the Sidhe as I served the Empress Aran. I am of the Selen clan, which would mean little to you but much among Denleni. The name is synonymous with duty and honor. I have striven all my life to meet that standard. This is my first chance to begin to make payment on that promise. For the sake of my own soul, I must begin to make good on my oath.

“We fight to save a race from extinction. I will not have it said that I held back any measure of strength or will, in such a cause. My life is of no account against what we seek to accomplish. I would give it gladly to advance our cause but an inch.”

There was silence in the room. Fenaday looked the Denlenn in the eye. I forgot such people actually exist, he thought.

“Telisan,” he said, “I would be honored to have you on my wing. Thank you.”

*****

The Denlenn inclined his head, mostly to hide his relief. He had given an oath both to Duna and to Fenaday and been caught between them. He had done little on his pledge to the human. Now, at last, came a chance for redemption. If Fenaday died because Duna’s suspicions—mad though they seemed—were true, he would not die alone. If anything could be done to save his captain, Telisan would be there to do it. Selen honor demanded nothing less.

*****

Fenaday and Rainhell stood at the same moment, exchanging a long glance. She seemed on the verge of saying something, then turned away.

*****

After the staff meeting Fenaday retired to his cabin. In fourteen hours, he would drop into Enshar’s atmosphere. He tried to read but could not concentrate. Sleep eluded him.

He paced in his cabin, the largest on board but still small. In one corner of the bedroom hung a beautiful photo of Lisa, taken soon after their marriage. He looked at it for several minutes. Sometimes, he could almost feel her presence in the room. Better media existed for such images. For a while, he had a holographic imager that would show her walking and talking from tapes they made. One day he caught himself talking to the image as if it were real. A pleasant little fantasy, he told himself, he’d only indulge himself for a few seconds. The holo played for hours before he recognized it as the first step in a descent into madness. Tonight, he looked, remembered and felt nothing. The picture remained just a picture on a wall. He was alone, and the room was too quiet.

“I’m never going to find you,” he said to the picture.

Fenaday fled the room. He began to walk the Sidhe’s corridors. The ship ran on night watch with its smallest crew. Torn between his desire to see people and the need not to be seen in this state, he drifted through the vessel. He dropped in on some stations pretending to be inspecting. He didn’t stay long or talk much. For a vessel that looked so big from the outside, Sidhe held few places to go. He stopped in the mess for a cup of coffee and found no one there he could talk to.

Eventually, he ended up in the corridor outside Shasti’s cabin on C deck. Fenaday stood there for a few minutes, irresolute. Then he turned away. It’s not fair and it’s not right, he thought.

The door whooshed open behind him. He turned to find her standing in the doorway. She wore a kimono-style robe, black silk pants and looked at him with no readable expression.

“Hi,” he said, feeling foolish. “I was just walking by.”

“You’ve been there for nearly three minutes,” she stated. “Did you think I would leave the corridor outside my own cabin unmonitored? That would make me a rather poor security chief, don’t you think?”

“Come in,” she added, when he did not respond.

“No. No, it’s all right.” he said, embarrassed. “Not your problem.”

“Robert,” she said, quietly but with force, “come in.”

He entered the cabin, and the door sealed behind him. They stood in the low light by the doorway, looking at each other.

Fenaday dropped his eyes, then sighed. “I think,” he said slowly, “I am going to be dead in a few hours.” He looked up. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Shasti said nothing, but reached forward for him. He tilted back his head to kiss her. His arms wound around her body.

“No pasts,” she said, when they separated, “no tomorrows, and no promises. Just tonight.” He nodded and she led him to her bed. They lay side by side, touching. More than two years had passed since they’d been together. He wanted to take his time; it might be the last chance for any tenderness.

Shasti’s body was as splendid as he remembered. Night black hair cascaded to her small waist. Her perfect symmetry kept her powerful body from appearing over-muscled. Nearly seven feet of goddess and here with him. Fenaday was glad for the low light. He felt ape-like by comparison.

She opened her robe, guided his hand inside, filling it with a full breast. As his fingers slowly caressed her nipple, she made a soft sound of pleasure. Her mouth came against his and their breathing quickened. Clothes dropped to the floor and their bodies began to move together as one.

She drove all thoughts of the future from his mind. He reveled in the warmth between them. Shasti responded as if they were created only for each other. It surprised him. The times before were exciting, but not like this. Perhaps, he thought, it’s the nearness of danger. He didn’t care. He’d gone so long without anyone’s touch.

They made love several times over the next few hours. At first tenderly, then a frantic mood seemed to take Shasti. She growled, even biting a little. Her legs clasped him with their full strength as if she wanted to pull him into her forever. The next time she was more careful, as if to display her skill, her almost perfect muscular control.

She wanted to start for a fourth. He smiled at her, “I’m not eighteen, you know.”

“No,” she replied, nuzzling him. “Not very breakable either.”

“Good thing,” he said fighting a yawn. “Or you’d have broken something on me the second time.”

“That a complaint?” she asked idly.

He smiled. “God, no. But I could use something to drink.”

Shasti slid off him, heading for the small refrigerator in her cabin. Just watching her walk is an experience, he thought. For the first time, he noticed the room. It had changed from its formerly Spartan look to something surprisingly feminine. A katana and wakizashi sat in their traditional holders by one wall, but draperies and indirect lighting softened the room.

At that point he noticed an easel and, curious, slipped out of bed for a closer look. He saw a forested, wintry landscape. In the middle of it padded a wolf, threading his way through the trees. The animal seemed to watch him wherever he moved. Brushes below the unfinished piece made it unquestionably hers. The style matched that of the two other landscapes on the walls.

She came up behind him, stretching an arm over his shoulder with a Bellerian fruit drink. “They aren’t very good,” she said.

“Not true,” he protested. “They are. I can almost feel his fur.”

“I’ve tried to learn,” she said. “I take lessons when we are not on board, and there are disks for the voyages. I realized one morning that all my training—all my life—was about killing. I wanted something else, something of my own. I want to be more than a bio-weapon.”

He looked up over his shoulder at her but could think of little to say.

She moved past him and picked up a brush, seeming to study it. “I have a question for you.”

“Ask away.”

“I wanted to resolve our discipline problems by eliminating Greywold. It’s a sensible move. Eliminate a malcontent, quell further dissent. I didn’t understand your reaction. I know you were upset. Why?”

Fenaday sipped his drink before replying. “I’m not judging you, Shasti. You've never told me much about your past, but I see who you are and what you do. It tells me about a hard life. Who am I to judge anyone anyway? I used to be a spoiled rich kid. I didn’t learn about want until... well you know about that.

“Despite everything that I’ve survived in the last few years, I’m not really tough enough for this job. I just can’t have a man killed in cold blood. This isn’t the sort of thing I learned growing up. I studied how to run ships, balance trade ledgers, make a profit for the line. Murder’s not in me. Maybe it should be. In a lot of ways, you're more fit to command Sidhe than I am. I guess it’s not the sort of thing I could do and look in the mirror each morning.”

“I still don’t understand,” she said. Sadness underlay her words. “I’m almost an artificial life form, Robert. I sometimes wonder how much of what makes a real human has been left out of me.”

He smiled. “Being ordinary isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m plenty ordinary. Sometimes I think it might be great to be one of the men from your planet. Wouldn’t you prefer a partner more in your scale?” He stopped. Her face had gone rigid.

“No,” she said in a harsh whisper.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No” she repeated much more softly. “No pasts here tonight. Not yours and, assuredly, not mine.”

He finished his drink quietly.

“I feel I could sleep for a few hours now,” he said trying for lightness.

“Good,” she replied, also trying to close the awkwardness of the moment.

“Do you mind sharing? I don’t think I snore.”

Shasti gave him a frank look. “I want you to stay. I don’t want to be alone either. I guess I am at least that human.”

They slid back into the bed and lay next to each other. Fenaday dropped into sleep almost immediately.

Shasti, who needed far less sleep than an ordinary human, lay awake for a while. Memories she had never shared with anyone, surged in her, tearing at her nerves. Finally, she invoked mental disciplines learned long ago and banished her past. She altered her body chemistry and entered REM sleep by an act of will.

Shasti woke, her mind sharp and alert, at exactly 6 A.M. as she’d ordered her body to awaken. She rose out of the bed smoothly.

Fenaday stirred next to her. It took him longer to wake up and his head ached. He had that skittery feeling of too little sleep and too much caffeine. Morning seemed somehow unreal.

Shasti finished in the shower before he could get his mind together. He smiled at her wanly. As usual, she didn’t smile, but she seemed well-pleased with the world. Looking at her he thought, one wouldn’t think extinction might be only a few hours away.

Fenaday got into the shower, letting hot water beat down on his head. He wanted to stay there forever. The idea of taking a fighter down seemed insane. More than ever, he wanted to live. Despite everything, he wanted desperately to live.

Shasti pulled the curtain back. He looked up at her.

“Time to go?” she asked, as if it were out to a movie. Then he noticed her flight suit.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, turning off the shower.

“One of the Wildcats is a two-seater,” she replied. “We’ll take that one.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “There’s no reason to for you to get killed in this.”

“Assume we aren’t killed,” Shasti said, throwing him a towel. “Once down on the planet, it’ll be hours before the shuttles arrive. Telisan is incompetent in ground fighting, and you need me to watch your back.”

“No,” he said, firmly.

“Has it occurred to you,” she replied, “that arguing with me while you are stark naked and soaked doesn’t enhance your authority? See you on the flight deck.”

Before he could summon a reply, she left. He could either run naked down the corridor after her, or have a major blowout with her in front of everyone on the flight deck. She had him mouse-trapped.

Fenaday found his clothes and returned to his cabin to get into proper gear for the flight. A cup of Irish tea sufficed for breakfast as he didn’t want much of anything on his nervous stomach. Fenaday considered adding a shot of courage to the tea, then decided against it. Rummaging through the weapons locker a cautious captain learned to keep in his quarters, Fenaday chose a heavy laser pistol and a tri-auto carbine. Then he reached for his father’s ancient Scottish dirk. It seemed a pitiful weapon to take against what had devastated the planet below, but there was no guarantee that more modern weapons would fare any better. Perhaps, as his father had thought, there might be luck in the ancient blade.

Fenaday looked around the cabin, realizing he would probably not see it again. He walked to the bedroom and looked at his wife’s picture. “Good bye,” he said, silently adding a plea for forgiveness. Then he left for the flight deck.

Shasti stood on a ladder, making alterations to the ejection seat in the stubby matte black Wildcat. Her oversized frame meant he would have even less leg room than usual in the small fighter.

A sizable crowd gathered in the hanger bay. Hangar crew prepared the fighters, which had been brought in from the wing mech-link stations for a thorough check. The other shuttles, large Dakota class transports stood ready as well. They’d launch and assume an orbit for a later landing if disaster didn’t overtake the fighters. A number of the crew gathered to watch them launch. This deprived Fenaday of his last chance to have a quiet battle with Shasti. Not, he reflected, that it was likely to work. He walked up to her. “You fight dirty, you know that.”

She looked down at him. “It’s how I was raised,” she replied in all seriousness.