Date Point: 15y6m3w1d AV
Colonial Security Headquarters, Folctha, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Gabriel Arés
“Well somebody dropped the ball, big time! You mean to tell me there were coordinated attacks in five countries, on two different planets, and nobody knew it was being organized?!”
“We can’t work with intel we don’t have, boss,” one of the senior analysts pointed out. “If nothing comes to us from counter-terrorism, then…”
Gabe sighed. “I know that. But somebody, somewhere screwed the goddamn pooch, and now we have dead and wounded ETs, wounded humans, half a dozen dead terrorists and arson damage to a civic building. I am not willing to just shrug that off! So we are going to get to the bottom of this thing, and when we know whose fuckup allowed it to happen, we will make our displeasure known. ¿Me entiendes?” There were nods, which Gabe echoed.
“I have some calls to make, and a meeting. Keep me posted,” he finished.
‘Some calls to make’ was a massive understatement. He spent most of the afternoon fielding and sending messages, juggling the people who answered to him with the people he answered to in turn.
The truly fun one came in the form of an invitation from the Governor-General, to dinner with the Prime Minister. An invitation to get raked over the coals, more like.
He sighed, cleared his schedule, then fielded the next message.
It was from the Crown Prosecution Service. He read it four times, more out of disbelief than anything. They couldn’t possibly be that pig-headed, could they?
But there it was, in black and white. He sighed, stood up, and opened his office door.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“The hell is this message about Allison Buehler?”
“The astronaut? Didn’t she shoot one of the terrorists?”
“Yeah,” Gabe said grimly. “Exactly. Now I’ve got an email from the CPS saying they wanna see our file on her because they’re thinking about investigating her for a possible manslaughter charge.”
Maunton cleared her throat. “Yyyeah. Little and I got to inform her about that just before she left the hospital. She… wasn’t happy.”
Everyone who overheard that statement went a little quieter. The hush evaporated quickly as people found something to make them look busy, but it was definitely there. Charlie, who’d been doing his job long enough to grow jaded, just nodded.
“Right. Because we can’t have people protecting themselves, now can we? Can’t have the police deciding it’s an open-and-shut case of self-defence. The Prosecutor’s gotta leave that to a bloody judge.”
“Don’t tell me they really intend to charge her?” Gabe asked.
“Sorry, gaffer,” Maunton volunteered. “You know what the prosecutor’s like.”
Charlie nodded. “Man gets shot, the shooter goes to court. Context be damned,” he said.
“Even if she literally has a license with my signature on it to do exactly what she did?”
The collective shrug around the room told him everything.
“It’s not for us lowly mortals to decide that it’s a clear case of self-defence,” Maunton said. “Only judges get to do that.”
“…Fine.” Gabe gave up. “But I wanna talk to her first.”
“Okay. What about the CPS?” Charlie asked.
“Stonewall them.”
“Er… how?”
“Be honest,” Gabe advised. “Tell ‘em I think they’re wasting time and public money, and I’m not gonna play their stupid game while there’s actual terrorist attacks in progress.”
“I can’t talk to them like that, boss…” Charlie objected.
“So be diplomatic! They are playing a stupid game and they fucking know it. So I don’t care how much you have to sugarcoat it, you tell them they wait on me. I’ll get to their request when I’m good and goddamn ready.”
“…Yes boss.”
“…Thanks.” Gabe retreated back into his office and shut the door again. He massaged his face and kicked himself mentally. He really ought to have kept his temper better under control. He wasn’t worried about Charlie, Charlie was thick-skinned and understanding. But Gabe needed to stay cool and level-headed. That was part of good leadership, and he’d just let stress get the better of him.
Hopefully they’d all be sympathetic. If not… Well, that was a problem for another time. Right now, he had enough to deal with.
He returned to his desk and opened the next message.
Date Point: 15y6m3w AV
Folctha, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Master Sergeant Derek “Boss” Coombes
Ava’s door wasn’t latched. It was subtle, and had b een pulled closed so that to a casual observer there’d be nothing out of place, but the lock was definitely busted.
Adam had come with, of course, but Murray had surprised them both by volunteering too. Now he met their eyes, stooped, and from inside his boot he drew a knife that Folcthan law said he really shouldn’t have been carrying.
Derek nodded approvingly and gestured him to the front. Hand on his back, ready, wait…
“Go.”
Door yanked open. SLAM!
Movement. Shouting. Two men where they shouldn’t have been. Rage. Both sensibly surrender instantly. Capture, disarm, restrain. Hand them off to ‘Horse, sweep rest of apartment.
“…Clear!”
“Clear!”
Relax.
The apartment was a mess. The two shitstains who’d invaded it had apparently decided to use their time on vandalizing Ava’s belongings. Her couch cushions had been slashed, the TV was a write-off, all her plates and stuff were in little pieces all over the floor, and… yup. There was a turd on her coffee table and a giant wet stain in the rug that smelled of urine.
“…Fuck.”
“Aye.” Murray sniffed, vanished his knife and stalked back into the living room where the two men were both struggling and gasping under Adam’s firm, flat-palmed restraint, right in the middle of the piss-stain. Murray squatted down in front of them and gave them both a merry smile that contained altogether far too much psychotic glee.
“…Well. You two picked the wrong target, didn’ye?” he asked conversationally. Derek met Adam’s eye, and the unspoken agreement passed between them that they weren’t interested in handing these two over to the police just yet. Let Murray have his fun with them first.
It was no less than they deserved.
Date Point: 15y6m3w AV
Folctha, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Allison Buehler
“So I shot a man in perfectly justified self-defence, and I’m facing prosecution for it?!”
Allison was, to her own surprise, not in fact angry. She was a shaved inch short of anger, but mostly she was just in disbelief. How could things get more cut-and-dried than self-defence against armed attackers?
But according to Gabriel Arés, Folctha didn’t work that way.
“The Crown Prosecution Service are… their usual attitude is to prosecute and let justice be done. I wouldn’t be surprised if it went to court.”
Allison actually snarled. Now she was angry. “Then why the fuck was I even given that license then? The whole point of giving me something like that is you’re saying it’s entirely likely I might need it! Hell, that’s what’s written on the goddamned license!”
She tapped the document. She’d laid it on Arés’ desk the second she’d walked into the room. “Right here! ‘…the applicant has demonstrated reasonable need on the grounds of a credible threat to their life or the lives of others in their immediate vicinity.’ It’s right there with your signature under it!”
Arés nodded. His expression was unreadable.
“So what the hell is the point of giving me a license like this if, when it turns out to be completely goddamn justified, I wind up dragged in front of the court on manslaughter charges?!” Allison demanded. “Over a fucking terrorist attack! My girlfriend got stabbed!”
“Miss Buehler, I really need you to—”
“Calm down?! …Calm down. Right….” Allison gritted her teeth and balled a fist until her knuckles creaked as she got herself under control. It didn’t help: she felt sick, she was shaking.
Arés gave her a small, sorry smile. “Believe me, as a fellow American I sympathize. The law, or the system or whatever… it’s just plain wrong on this one. But, uh… you might wanna watch your language, there.”
“…How can you uphold a law you know is wrong?”
“I also thought outlawing drugs was wrong. Prohibition never worked, it just made a lot of awful people very rich. But back in San Diego I still arrested the dealers because that was my job. It’s not my place to make the law, that’s the job of our representatives.”
“Well they did a piss-poor job.” Allison massaged her face. “…I’m gonna ask you again, though. Why did you even issue that license? ‘Cuz right now, it seems like it’s not worth the paper it’s printed on.”
“Because it’s exhibit A. And if our investigation finds that you acted inside the terms of your license—”
“If it finds that?!”
“Do you want me to say when and prejudice the proceedings?” Arés asked, pointedly. “For your own sake, it’s if. But if you’re found to have acted inside the terms of your permit then you won’t need an exhibit B.”
“I shouldn’t need an exhibit A! I shouldn’t be going to court for this at all! In fact y’know what? Fuck this! Fuck all of this! What’s the law like over in Franklin? ‘Cuz this, right here? This is bullshit.”
“Even in Franklin they’d still have to extradite you back here. Don’t make things worse.”
“How does it get much worse than being tried for manslaughter?!”
“…Being a fugitive from the law, getting INTERPOL involved, and forcing extradition proceedings between allies over a major public figure involved in a terrorist incident would, ah… probably do it.”
To her own enormous surprise, Allison laughed. It was a short and shocked laugh, but it was heartfelt: something in Arés’ dry delivery had just… worked. She looked down at her hands which were still shaking and… let go. She let the outrage flow out and tried to find her center again. “…Right.”
Arés nodded. “Look…” he said after a second. “I promise you. This will be so open-and-shut that the door won’t even latch. And God willing maybe it’ll even be the kick in the pants that parliament needs to fix a really, really stupid system. People will be behind you on it, I’m sure. Especially our American immigrants.”
“And if you’re wrong? I go to prison for defending myself and my loved ones.”
“You have my solemn promise that if that should happen, I will resign in protest.”
He meant it. Allison could see that. It didn’t make her feel much better, but it was something.
Arés relaxed a little and cleared his throat. “…This is a pivotal moment for Folctha. I have, ah… dinner, with the Governor-General this evening. I was told in very certain terms that said dinner was not optional.”
Allison arched an eyebrow. “What do you think his take on this is?”
“He wouldn’t have summoned me to dinner if he didn’t see it as important. Because honestly? Right now we still attract more US immigrants than Franklin does, because this is the bigger town with more opportunities.”
“That’s about to change,” Allison predicted. Certainly she’d have pressed to live in Franklin instead if she’d had an incident like this to consider, and she had no doubt that Julian would have agreed with her.
“It might,” Arés agreed. “If we don’t emerge from this with a better and fairer system. And without the American immigrants… ten years from now, Folctha will be playing second fiddle. And I’ve sunk way too much of myself into this colony over the years to be happy with that.”
“That’s very… patriotic of you.”
Arés shrugged. “Maybe. My son built a life here. He’s made commitments he can’t and won’t break. I don’t want to see this country wither on the vine over bureaucratic idiocy.”
“As if that’s not going to happen anyway,” Allison predicted. “The second I’m summoned to that courtroom, the world will notice.”
“Another piece of advice? Don’t threaten the Government. They have an uncanny way of striking back when they feel threatened.”
“That wasn’t a threat, it was a prediction. If I go to court, the supply of American immigrants is going to dry up like spit on a griddle.”
“That’s a threat, Miss Buehler.”
“…You and I have very different definitions of the word ‘threat.’”
Arés sighed. “All I’m saying is… Keep that thought to yourself and let your lawyer speak for you. And please try and remember that thanks to my oath of office I am a sworn officer in service to His Majesty. You should be very careful what you say to me, too.”
Allison gave up. She had a headache, she was stressed the hell out and frankly the only thing she wanted right now was to get back to Xiù and hold on tight. “…I should go home. Unless I’m under arrest?”
Arés shook his head. “You’re not. In fact I’ve ordered the custody sergeant to return your weapon, it’ll be waiting for you at the evidence lockup in the basement. I’d, ah, strongly suggest you remain in Folctha for the immediate future, but I see no reason to press the matter.”
“What about my commute out to Chiune Station? Can I still go to work?”
“Chiune Station is technically part of Folctha, so… yes. All I ask is you be sensible and cautious, ‘cuz I see no reason to go hard on this… please don’t compel me to reconsider.”
“Sure,” Allison stood up. She shook Arés’ hand—it would have been petulant not to—and gathered up her carry permit. “Enjoy your dinner, I guess.”
A stressed smile found its way Arés’ face. “Somehow I doubt I will… Miss Buehler?”
Allison paused in shrugging on her jacket. “…Yes?”
“You’ll get through this. All three of you will.”
Allison sighed and zipped the jacket up. “I know that,” she said. “It’s not us I’m worried about.”
“…I see. Good luck, then.”
“You too.”
Gabriel Arés
As Buehler left, Gabe was left to reflect that days like today proved pretty goddamn hard that Folctha was no paradise. Hell, its laws had been inherited wholesale from the UK, and the Folcthan constitution had no equivalent to the Second Amendment.
Gabe was a former gun-owning Republican voter, so a lot of it made him grind his teeth. As far as he was concerned, Buehler wasn’t merely justified in her anger: she was completely and unquestionably correct.
In fairness, there was no conceivable way she’d face a guilty verdict. Her case was bombproof. But the prosecutor didn’t have to worry about public approval and tended to view the court as the only acceptable arbiter of the law.
Stupid. If it was a foregone conclusion then why waste public money on a trial purely for appearance’s sake?
Hmm. Maybe the prosecutor did care about public opinion after all, and was just out of touch with what people were thinking.
Something to discuss with Ava, off the record.
That thought buoyed him a little, and the worst of his grim mood had dissipated by the time a knock on the door announced the arrival of PC Little, who looked like he was barely restraining a grin.
Something pleasant was just what Gabe needed at that moment. “What’s up, Little?”
“You might want to come and meet our newest arrests, gaffer.”
“Something special about them?” Gabe asked, rising to his feet.
“Look out the window.”
Gabe frowned, then did as suggested and looked out his office window.
There was a small van parked across the street, to which a frankly ludicrous amount of duct tape had been applied. The tape in turn was the only thing protecting the modesty of a pair of men who’d been very obviously stripped naked and adhered to the vehicle’s roof. Both were completely restrained, and if Gabe was seeing things correctly then they’d also been liberally coated in glitter and each had a dildo superglued to his forehead. The words “THE MAGIC ANGUS TRAVELING UNICORN SHOW” were written in sharpie on the van’s side.
A kind of disbelieving laugh exploded out of Gabe’s belly. The whole scene was so ridiculous that he was having trouble processing it.
“…What th’…?”
“There was this note in the driver’s seat. It’s addressed to you personally,” Little revealed and handed it over.
Gabe scanned it. It was short, and printed anonymously in Times New Roman.
“Found armed and trespassing at 47-C West Water St. Evidence enclosed.
Warm regards,
–Magic Angus”
Suddenly, Gabe wasn’t laughing any more.
Date Point: 15y6m3w AV
Arés residence, Folctha, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Ava Ríos
Ava couldn’t quite stop herself from jumping when she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. She knew who it was instantly, nobody else had footsteps quite that heavy… But she still had plenty of lingering anxiety. Never mind that she was resting comfortably in a safe place with a sleeping baby on her lap and a pair of dogs making gentle play noises as Hannah caught up with one of her puppies. Doofus was already much bigger than his mother, but was as whip-smart as both his parents. He was going to be a hell of a dog, once he was fully grown.
He was one of only two of the puppies to stay in the family. The other, Lulu, had gone to Gabe and Jess.
Right now, he was a double armful of unlimited energy who was far more trouble than Ava thought she could handle. But he was adorable trouble at least.
It should have been calming. It was calming. But anxiety was a monster that never quite let go when it had Ava in its claws.
So the moment when the door opened to admit Adam, Murray and Derek was a great relief. Up until the confusion started.
“Hey! So how was… Is that glitter?”
Murray gave a remarkably sparkly shrug and ambled into the kitchen, pausing to give Doofus a scratch. “Aye.”
“What–?”
Adam took Diego and propped the baby up against a bicep as he sat down. Diego yawned massively and groped clumsily at the air before falling asleep again. “You’re, uh… gonna want cleaners. And new locks. And you need some new things, like a new TV and stuff…”
The bottom dropped out of Ava’s stomach. “…Oh God—”
“Yeah.” Derek sat down and put his arm around Ava for a reassuring squeeze. “Your instincts were right.”
About the only thing that stopped Ava from completely freaking out was the fact that she had the two most comforting male presences in her life on either side of her. As it was, she still drew her feet up onto the couch and made herself small. Hannah immediately abandoned Doofus and rushed to her side, licking frantically at her hands.
“Hey…” Derek held her close, but a sudden well of panic was rushing up inside her.
“The camera! Sara’s camera! It was at home, and–”
“It’s okay,” Adam promised her. “Your hard cases were still locked up good. I checked.”
“Oh, thank Christ… What’d you do with them?”
“They’re at my place,” Derek said. “You’re gonna need to claim on your insurance for all your furniture, though. I… wouldn’t go home right now if I were you.”
Ava shook her head and scratched Hannah’s ears. Between the dog and the men, the panic attack that had threatened to swoop in on her had retreated. It was still circling, looking for a chance to descend and catch her, but right now she was holding on to calm. “God, no. I wouldn’t feel safe anyway.”
“Where d’you wanna stay?” Derek asked.
Ava didn’t get the chance to reply: her phone rang. She picked it up, saw who was calling, and accepted it with an apologetic glance at Derek.
“Dad?”
“Are you okay mija? I got a couple assholes in lockup here who’re, ah… weirdly eager to confess about breaking into your apartment.”
She sensed Adam smirk alongside her. “I’m at Adam’s place,” she revealed. “I’m… not great. But I’m safe.”
“Good. Is Adam there? Put him on speaker.”
Ava obeyed, and set the phone down on the coffee table.
Adam raised an eyebrow at Derek and Murray, then leaned forward to speak. “Hey, Dad.”
“Three things, Gordo. One: good job. Two, please leave that stuff to the actual police. And three, tell Murray to pick a less obvious pseudonym.”
“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, Papá,” Adam said innocently.
“Uh-huh.” Gabe didn’t sound even microscopically convinced. “Good… Keep her safe, ‘kay?”
“Of course!”
Gabe chuckled over the phone. “Okay. It’s gonna be a long night for me. You two take care. I love you both.”
“Love you too, Dad,” Ava called, and the call ended.
She took a deep breath, then turned and tried to give all three of them an interrogating stare. Difficult, when they were spread across the entire room.
“What did you three do?”
“Nothing,” Adam said with an infuriating grin. He had exactly the tone a little boy did when he was being playful.
“Nothing illegal you mean?”
“I mean what I said!” Now he was starting to bounce in place.
Ava stared at him for a second, then turned to Murray. “Okay. What did you do?”
Murray burst out laughing. That was all the answer she got from him as he flashed her a cheeky grin and vanished into the kitchen, still chuckling to himself.
“Derek–?”
He raised a hand and shook his head. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
She glared at him. “Derek.”
“We just… taught ‘em some manners, that’s all,” he said. “Really, you don’t want to know. Trust me.”
Ava sighed and gave up. They were probably right, and what she didn’t know she wouldn’t have to admit to. “…I hope you put the fear of God into them.”
“No comment.” Adam jigged the baby on his arm a little. “So… yeah. Where d’you wanna stay? We can fold out the sofa bed, or–”
“I’ll stay at Derek’s place,” Ava decided. “If, uh, that’s okay?”
“Fine by me,” Derek confirmed.
“Gettin’ away from the baby so soon?” Adam teased.
“He’s been an angel,” Ava said fondly. “But I’m gonna have enough trouble sleeping tonight, without him waking up and hollering.”
“That makes sense,” Derek agreed. “C’mon. We’ll get a cab.”
Adam nodded. “Hasta luego. Stay safe.”
“You too, bro.”
They lurked inside until the driverless cab pulled up and Derek, ever the gentleman, held the door for Ava and Hannah before getting in himself. She scooted over into the middle seat to snuggle up to him for the short trip.
“…Thanks,” she said. She got a cuddle in return. “…How bad was my place?”
“Honestly, it’s a wreck. Your landlord’s gonna be pissed.”
“No landlord. Mortgage,” Ava corrected him distractedly. “…I don’t think I can go back there, though.”
That was an understatement. This ranked right up there with learning the Hierarchy had maybe made a brain-scan copy of her. The sense of violation was almost total.
Derek pulled her into a hug and said nothing. Hannah whined and crawled onto Ava’s lap, and that was all it took. She finally let go and freaked out.
Date Point: 15y6m3w AV
Trans-Canada Highway, Indian Head, Saskatchewan, Canada, Earth
Chief Special Warfare Operator Daniel (“Chimp”) Hoeff
One of Hoeff’s curses masquerading as a blessing had always been his ability to see humor in any situation, no matter how inappropriate. Right at the moment it was taking a surprising amount of his bearing and discipline not to giggle at the sight before him: a couple of impressive Mounties trying to maintain command presence in the face of a much bigger man, who was himself visibly struggling to keep his cool. Add in two very confused, nervous, angry cavemonkeys and a three-way international incident, and things just couldn’t possibly be more fucked up if Hoeff had tried.
A goddamn superintendent had shown up, and to his credit he was staring Julian down without any hint of nerves and literally laying down the law. “The entire incident is being labeled a terrorist act and special dispensations have been arranged. The catch is you must leave Canada. Now.”
Julian gave the Mounty the iciest, calmest look Hoeff had ever seen. “Oh, don’t you worry fella. I can pretty much guarantee I’ll never come back.”
“Don’t blame us for this, Mister Etsicitty. Today’s been a busy day for the APA, they’ve carried out attacks in the USA, England, Folctha and—”
“Yeah, about Folctha,” Julian interrupted sharply. “You got any details? Like who? Where? How many? What happened? Anything? I kinda live there and I got family there.”
The super shook his head. “I don’t know the details, and right now we’re focused on getting you and your friends home. There’s a Weaver dropship coming from Scotch Creek to take you directly to Cimbrean, it’ll meet you at the airfield two kilometers that-a-way.” He turned and pointed east down the highway.
“Got it.” Hoeff stepped in and indicated with a nudge that Julian should see the cavebros into the Suburban. He shook the Mounty’s hand as soon as Julian’s back was turned. “I take it we have an escort?”
The superintendent nodded. “Follow them.”
“Can d—Playboy?”
Julian had just cursed viciously, to Vemik’s flat-eared confusion and Yan’s concern. He turned and gave Hoeff a look that promised murder to somebody. Not to Hoeff, but somebody.
“Xiù got hurt,” he said and raised his phone to show where he’d got the information. “Fuckers attacked them right in the street.”
“Jesus, she okay?”
“She says she’s fine. But she’s wearing a big-ass bandage on her arm.”
Hoeff shook his head in a mix of respect and relief. “Man, your girls fuckin’ scare me sometimes.”
“I know, right?” A positive emotion in the form of pride managed to put in a cameo on Julian’s face before the stress washed it away again. “…Let’s get back.”
“They hurt Shyow?” Vemik asked. His hackles were raising.
“She hurt ‘em right back, buddy.”
Yan stood up. “Let’s go. I think I don’t like Canada.”
Hoeff hid a smile at the faintly offended looks that the Mounties did a poor job of hiding, and waved a hand at the Suburban. “‘Kay then. Saddle up!”
As promised, a trio of motorbikes blue-lighted them down the highway to the airfield, and as promised there was a Weaver waiting for them. Hoeff recognized it instantly: The Jitney, TOURIST-1, permanently attached to the SOR. The damn thing even had nose art, thanks to somebody on the HEAT. Hoeff’s money was either Firth or Murray, but neither man would admit to it.
The pilot, Nate Andrews, was Royal Navy, and therefore sat at an intersection of three sources of arrogance: Pilots, Brits… and of course the Royal Navy and the US Navy had, uh, history.
Thank fuck he flew a transport. If he’d been a fighter jockey, the world couldn’t possibly have contained his ego. Hoeff liked him.
It was hard to say what Julian thought, though. He was more or less a caged wolf at that point, exactly like he’d been back on Akyawentuo when they were fighting off the Abrogators. Threaten his women and he took on the worst features of Firth, Murray, and Daar put together.
Andrews picked up on it and gave Hoeff an arched eyebrow as Julian stalked up the ramp and into his aircraft. Wisely, he didn’t comment and just gave Hoeff a questioning look. Vemik and Yan were taking a careful look around the Jitney’s interior while Julian cajoled them into their seats.
“He looks happy.”
“Better get us back pretty quick,” Hoeff advised.
“Fair enough. All aboard that’s going aboard.”
There was the usual shit: pressure seal checks, preflight checks, making sure the passengers were properly seated and belted in. The difference was takeoff: They didn’t. They jumped.
The only noticeable consequences was that the Jitney creaked a bit and Hoeff’s ears popped as the external atmosphere plummeted from Earth sea level to perfect vacuum. Out the porthole window, he could see a little puff of white mist dissipate around them as the tiny slice of atmosphere they’d brought along for the ride faded off into the infinite night.
Vemik made an appreciative noise. “Whoo!”
“Neat trick, ain’t it?”
“Why not do that all the time? Misfit just flew, up and up and up. Took a long time.”
“You gotta have a friend waiting for you at the other end,” Hoeff explained.
“Friend?”
“Yeah, bruh. Named after a dude called Armstrong.”
Yan actually trilled. “Good name.”
“He was a great man.”
“We also wanted to show you the way up,” Julian said distractedly. “To make it more real.” He was doing both of his nervous habits where he bounced his heavy legs so much the floor shook slightly, and he kept scratching the back of his head. The poor bastard was worried as shit.
Hoeff nodded and yelled forward. “Yo! Andrews! We landin’ or dockin’?”
“Docking. You chaps are taking the Array down, then I get the pleasure of de-orbiting without your smiling company.”
Julian shot him a silent glare with a slightly upturned growl on his lip, but said nothing. Andrews was facing the wrong way to notice anyway, and the leg-bouncing got faster.
Fuck. Time to intervene. Hoeff really liked the big fucker, but this near hostility wouldn’t fuckin’ do. He stood up, plopped himself right next to him, looked up and smiled. He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t need to. It took Julian a second, but the Big Bad Wolf finally slinked back into his cave and unwound, just a little.
“…Sorry.”
Hoeff again clapped a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “Keep it together, bro. They’re fine. You’d already know otherwise.”
Yan nodded from Julian’s other side. “They need you strong. Calm. You need to go home and be… found-ay-shun for them. I think that’s the word.” He added a word in his native language that Hoeff didn’t quite follow, but Julian nodded.
Julian had to be part cavemonkey in some way. Instead of nodding or saying thanks, what he did instead was put an arm around both Hoeff and Yan, and pull them into a tight hug. Yan let himself be hugged; Hoeff didn’t really have a choice.
There were worse ways to show affection, being real about it.
Docking with Armstrong Station was nice and easy. Andrews backed the Jitney into a hangar and dropped it onto the deck with a gentle bump and only a couple feet of clearance between them and the neighboring Firebird. By the time the ramp came down, there were marines waiting for them.
No need for a head-check this time, thank fuck. They still went through a security scanner as they were escorted out of the hangar, and made a bee-line through the public concourse, headed for the downlink Array.
Hoeff had never spent much time on Armstrong, and looking around he made a note to come back up at some point and get to know the place better. The station was a Dominion basic design that had been pretty heavily modified and upgraded to suit human sensibilities about things like, say, public safety. Even so, it was goddamned impressive.
Armstrong handled three classes of traffic: alien civilian merchants, human civilian engineers, and human/Gao military. In deference to nonhuman guests, the station concourse was kept at Dominion Standard Gravity, a good bit weaker than Earth. It gave the water feature in the middle a little something extra: the water curved gracefully through the air just a little slower and a little higher than it would have on Earth.
The lower gravity had an effect on the gorilla trio, too: Yan seemed rather thoroughly unimpressed, Vemik was trying and mostly failing to hide his bouncing experiments, and Julian…quieted down and wound up a bit again. Bad memories, probably. Hoeff understood.
Vemik’s bouncing came to an abrupt halt when he spotted some ETs, though. There were a trio of Vzk’tk poring over what looked like the kind of hippy-shit shop that sold singing bowls, incense and hand-woven yak wool scarves. Naturally, both the aliens and the shop intrigued him.
Julian’s spirit-monkey took over. “Not today, Vemik. Sorry.”
“I won’t be back here for a long time…” Vemik complained.
[“…I know, big] fella. [But you need to be at home, with Singer and your child. The People need to learn what you have to teach, and I bet the Lodge really needs Yan Given-Man by now. We’ve been gone for a while.”]
Yan’s tongue lashed the air in the shop’s direction anyway. The three shopping ETs, who’d noticed the unorthodox party passing them, took a few steps back and blinked at him. Them. Probably the gorilla trio were the most incredibly muscular things they’d seen in their lives.
“…Tastes strange.”
“I promise, if and when you guys wanna come back here, we will. Bring the Singer, she’ll love that shop. But for now…”
“…Yes.”
“Chief?”
Hoeff turned. Lieutenant-Colonel Miller—the new Miller, as opposed to the previous Miller in the exact same fucking billet, never mind Moho’s suit technician Miller—had caught up with them at a jog. The SOR had altogether too many Millers.
Hoeff straightened a little. “Sir. What can I do for you?”
“There’s been a change of plans. Mister Etsicitty is heading down, but you and the two ETs are going straight to their homeworld. You’re to carry out a comprehensive security assessment of the xenoarcheology project and the contact academy.”
“Woulda thought I’d need debriefing first, sir.”
“We’ll be doing that in tandem. In light of these attacks, we need to make sure the eggheads are safe and… well, you’re available.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Shit. I, uh…” Julian hesitated, giving the cavebros a guilty look. “I was gonna—”
“Don’t be stupid,” Yan cut him off. “Your women need you. You need them. Plenty of time later.”
“…Right.”
Julian hesitated, then said his goodbyes with quick hugs. A moment later he was gone.
“Is there gear waiting for me?” Hoeff asked. He indicated his polo shirt, jacket and jeans with a wave of his hand: good for blending in on a road trip around North America, not so great for the alien rainforest.
“I’ve got your bugout bag with me, along with something Master Sergeant Coombes and the SOR techs put together that should be appropriate. Warhorse packed meals too, apparently.”
…Of course. There was no evil in the Universe so great that ‘Horse and his team wouldn’t stick to the diet plan. If nukes had literally been raining down from orbit, there’d still be a meal box. Hoeff’s stomach grumbled at him, anticipating all the ultra-clean living he was about to endure.
Well, it wasn’t like roast Werne was off the plan. Lean protein didn’t come much better.
Miller handed him an envelope. “That’s a briefing for the scientists. Yours is in your bag. I suggest you read it.”
Yeah, no shit. Externally, though, Hoeff just nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Miller led him toward the military Array at brisk pace, fast enough that both Yan and Vemik had to knuckle along to keep up. “You’ve only got ten minutes before the jump window. Any last minute words or message, now is the time to say ‘em.”
“Better check in with my mom. She was expecting me to visit.”
Miller nodded. “Sorry about that. Hopefully things will calm down soon. See you when you get back, Chief.”
“Sir.”
He paused, at a loss for a moment, and decided maybe one more adventure would be fun for the cavemonkeys. “Well fellas, I’mma send a video back to ‘Ma. Wanna help?”
If he couldn’t go home, he could at least send home a gift. He’d get a chance to visit soon enough.
…Hopefully.