Operation Starseed

Part 3 The timestamp on the nav deck reads 02:48:23. The numbers aren’t green anymore but yellow, a warning that we’re close to the signal’s origin. Another forty-eight minutes and they’ll be an angry red, two hours from landing. Outside all I can see are the boosters of Milano’s fighter, flying point now, straight ahead of us. They look like twin suns in the distance, but I can make out the vague shape of her bird, the dark wings almost invisible against the dark sky, and I know she’s out there, I hear her breath through the open comm-link we’re maintaining. Her stats fill one of the vidscreens, and beside them are Parker’s, in his fighter behind us. Every now and then the two of them talk to each other in clipped tones to keep a low radio presence, and their pilot speak is a code I almost understand, but not quite. “What’s your twenty, Parker?” Milano asks, her voice tight, strained. She’s nervous—we all are. It’s twelve minutes past the three hour window and the signal’s still the same, there’s no comm-link, no hail of welcome, nothing else to tell us more about this whole situation. Nothing at all. “I’m on your six,” Parker says. I glance at the vidscreen for the rear cam and see the faint ripple of space where his fighter is, his cloaking shields at half power. “Any word yet from the welcome wagon?” I click on my mike and shake my head, even though they can’t see the gesture. “Negative,” I tell them. I’m alone on the deck right now, waiting for Val to come back from the cafeteria so I can go down and get something to eat. I plan to stop by the cockpit on my way back—I’ll pick up two plates and make sure Dylan gets something to eat before we land. He’s finally recovered from the HTS but he’s still woozy, hasn’t kept anything down since Shanley tried to get him to finish another glass of that supplement drink of his. Four hours ago that was, and God, it was so awful, I held Dylan’s head in my hands as he vomited orange sugar into the toilet, retching so damn hard I was afraid he’d tear something and start throwing up blood. “It’s okay, baby,” I cooed, but I didn’t know if he could hear me or not. “It’s okay, you’re going to be fine, it’s okay.” He laid his head in my lap and I held him tightly, his shoulders trembling, his whole body shaking. “It’s not going to be okay,” he muttered, his arms around my waist, holding me tight. “I feel like s**t. Don’t let Evan near me again, you hear? When I see him, I’m gonna kick his ass for doing this to me, I swear I will.” It wasn’t Shanley’s fault, not really, but I didn’t feel like arguing with him, not when he was sick like that. Fortunately he fell asleep there in my arms and I half dragged, half carried him back to my bunk, where I tucked him beneath the covers and sat beside him, a hand on his fevered brow. When he woke up a few hours later, he still felt weak and unsteady but at least the sickness had passed. Shanley stopped by to check on him one last time—I told him Dylan was doing much better and turned him away. “I’m still going to hurt him,” Dylan promised, glaring at the closed door after the med tech left. But he is better, has been for a while and now he’s in the cockpit, keeping the carrier on a steady course and waiting. We’re all waiting. I glance at the timestamp again and find that it’s almost a half hour past the three hour mark. They’re late, whoever they are. Behind me I hear the soft hiss of the door as it irises open and I see Vallery’s reflection in the window above me when she enters the deck. I told you so, I think—didn’t I say this signal was nothing more than an old relay? There’s no one out there and all we’re going to find is the wreck of an abandoned ship, the computer stuck in an endless loop, nothing more. “Your turn,” she says, falling into her seat on the nav deck. She’s holding a tray with a bowl full of thick green soup and a stack of crackers on it, which she balances precariously on her knees. “It’s broccoli soup or some lump of meat, I wouldn’t try that if I were you. It’s scary looking.” When I laugh, she grins at me and blows on the soup, which is already starting to congeal. “Anything from our friends out there yet?” “Not yet,” I say, rising to my feet. “Didn’t I tell you guys—” The comm-link buzzes. Val looks up at me, her pursed lips curving into a self-satisfied smirk. “Didn’t you tell us what?” “Don’t be like that,” I warn her, trying not to smile myself. “It’s not becoming.” “Like what?” she wants to know, but I just shake my head and turn to the control panel so I don’t have to look at her if I have to say she was right. But it’s not an external call, it’s Dylan. When I click on the vidscreen, I see him lounging in the pilot’s chair, one leg slung over the armrest and his hand stroking along his inner thigh, so close to his crotch that I almost want to ask Vallery to turn away, she shouldn’t be seeing this. With a sexy grin, he stares right at me, through the screen at me, and purrs, “You coming up here sometime today, baby?” His voice is low and throaty and it turns me on just hearing it. I want to pull on my headset and lose myself in his words, his image, but I can’t—Vallery’s here. “I miss you.” “I’m going to get us some dinner,” I tell him. “I’ll be right there.” Raising her voice, Vallery calls out, “Don’t eat the meat, Dylan. Go for the soup, trust me.” Dylan laughs, an infectious sound that fills the deck and makes me smile at Val over my shoulder, such a wonderful sound. I love that boy something fierce. “I’m hoping for something more filling than that,” he drawls, cupping his d**k with one hand. “Neal knows what I’m talking about, don’t you, baby?” I duck my head to hide the thin blush creeping into my cheeks—Jesus, he knows how to touch me in all the right places, doesn’t he? “I’ll be right there,” I tell him, and before I can cut off the comm-link, he whoops loudly. “That boy,” I start with a shaky laugh. He makes me hard, I think, but I’m not telling Vallery that. Hell, from the way she’s grinning at me, I don’t think I need to say anything at all, she’s picked up on that one herself. “I better get going,” I tell her, embarrassed because she knows where I’m going, her eyes say she knows exactly what we’ll probably end up doing, and this isn’t something I really want people to think about, you know? Dylan and me wrapped together and making love and his lips on mine, his hands on me, and… clicking off the vidscreen to the cockpit, I tell her, “I’ll be back.” “Take your time,” she says with a wink, sipping at her soup. God.