Freedom's Horizon

III. Close Quarters-2

The tour of the Freedom’s Horizon didn’t take long, partly because it wasn’t a very big ship and partly because it was a fairly standard set-up for freighters of its class with the bridge up front and the engines in the rear, connected by a central corridor flanked by cargo holds and living quarters. Though the interior of the ship was in much better shape than the exterior.

What was more, Mikhail, being Republican, was familiar with this very type of freighter. Anjali, being Imperial, was not acquainted with this particular model, but then there were only so many ways to build a freighter that made sense.

Hannah Green, on the other hand, was as proud of the Freedom’s Horizon as only an engineer and a spacer could be and happily rattled off tech specs. Mikhail nodded politely in response, while Anjali tried not to look too bored, even though all that really mattered to her were the specs of the onboard weapons systems. Luckily, as a few questions quickly clarified, the weapons systems turned out to be a nice custom job and quite powerful at that.

Hannah, on the other hand, was quite interested in everything about her new crewmates.

“So you’re Imperial, he’s Republican, and you’re a team?” she asked Anjali, after they’d finished discussing the weapons systems.

“A team and a couple,” Mikhail answers, putting his arm around Anjali.

“That’s really fascinating,” Hannah said, “I mean, you don’t see a lot of mixed couples, even out here on the rim. Not that I mind, of course. I’ve always been against the war. Put in my two years of compulsory service and got the hell out…”

So she was Republican by birth, but then most spacers were originally. Imperials rarely left the Empire behind, unless — like Anjali — they had no choice.

“And no offence, but…” Hannah flashed Anjali a smile that was pleasant and open. Her coverall was studded with enamelled pins. Logos of various tool and engine manufacturers mostly, but also a stylised poppy, symbol of the galactic peace movement. “…I think you’re the first Imperial I’ve ever met face to face.”

“Don’t worry,” Anjali said, “Most of the rumours aren’t true. And I don’t bite… at least, not unless someone else bites me first.”

It had been intended to be a light-hearted remark, but though Hannah laughed in response, she did look a bit nervous about it. But then propaganda ran deep, even in those who opposed the war.

Some twenty standard minutes later, the tour was finished. Hannah Green returned to the engine room to get the ship ready for take-off, while Anjali and Mikhail settled into the tiny cabin that would be their home for the next three weeks.

Hannah Green had been quite apologetic about the cramped conditions aboard the Freedom’s Horizon and the fact that there was only one cabin for the two of them, but Anjali and Mikhail had assured her that it didn’t matter. After all, they’d both spent more than their share of time in barracks and aboard troop ships and were used to cramped conditions.

“Besides…” so Anjali had said to Hannah, “…it’s unlikely that we’ll both be asleep at the same time anyway.”

But in spite of her brave words, even Anjali had to admit that their cabin aboard the Freedom’s Horizon really was tiny. So tiny that the larger parts of their equipment would have to remain in the hold, though that was far from ideal. Still, in the event of a pirate raid, they’d hopefully have enough warning to get geared up. Besides, Hannah had bragged about the range and accuracy of the Freedom’s Horizon‘s scanners. Anjali just hoped she was right.

But though their heavier gear would have to remain in the hold for now, Anjali still had her blaster, her back-up projectile gun and her dagger, because no way in hell was she ever going to sleep anywhere without a weapon in easy reach. And neither would Mikhail.

She plopped down on the narrow bunk and laid down her guns beside her, until she could find a place to store them. Mikhail loomed above her, shoving their meagre belongings into an overhead locker. Anjali left him to it, since he was taller anyway. Besides, she liked looking at him, liked watching the way his muscles rippled under his shirt.

There wasn’t much to pack anyway. Anjali didn’t have much more than a handful of clothes and those weren’t even truly her own. Just a selection of shirts, pants and underwear, hastily bought at Metra Litko’s central market, because the Republic had taken her own clothes away, when she was captured. All her clothes, including her best saree, had been dumped into an incinerator, while Anjali was given a prison uniform to wear. She’d ditched the uniform as soon as possible. But while the shoes and shirts and pants Mikhail had gotten for her were a little nicer, they still didn’t feel like her own. Apart from her weapons, there were not many things she had that were truly her own. One of them was a silver necklace, a gift from her brother Milan, an apprentice silversmith.

Anjali’s hand automatically drifted to her throat, as if to assure herself that the necklace was still there, one of the few things that still connected her to her family and her old life. A second necklace that dangled beneath her brother’s gift now, a slender chain holding a gold pendant studded with garnets. Mikhail had given it to her a month ago, spending money they did not have on something that was far too ostentatious for a simple peasant girl from Rajipuri. Anjali had chided him for it, but she still wore it, as a symbol of the new life she lived now and the man she shared it with.

“Wait,” she called to Mikhail, as he was about to hoist up another bag — hers this time.

In response, Mikhail tossed the bag to her. Anjali opened it, reached inside and withdrew a small silver object from an inside pocket. It was the other thing that was truly her own, a statue of the warrior goddess Durga that her brother Milan had given to her when she joined the Shakyri Corps. To grant her courage and protect her from all harm, he’d said. Not that Anjali believed in any of that, she never had. But she still cherished the little silver statuette. It was one of the few things she had left of her home.

And so she carefully set it down on the tiny nightstand, next to a silver-framed photo of Mikhail with his older sister Katya, the only thing he had left of his home and family. Perhaps this was the reason why Mikhail had rescued the statue and the necklace from the incinerator, because he understood the importance of mementos.

Mikhail watched her. “Sorry,” he said, took her bag and stuffed it into the overhead locker, “I forgot.”

“No problem,” Anjali said, but Mikhail wasn’t finished yet. He placed his arms on her shoulders and bent down to press a kiss onto the top of her head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her, “You deserve better than this, better than me.”

Anjali leant against his chest, enjoying the warmth of his body against hers. “It’s all right,” she whispered back, “I’m exactly where I want to be. Here with you.”

They’d probably have stayed like that for a bit longer, two people united against the whole damn universe, if a sound in the corridor just outside their cabin hadn’t caught Anjali’s attention. She turned her head towards the sound and spotted a flash of movement from a corner of her eye.

Her soldier’s instincts took over. In a single fluid motion, she broke free from Mikhail’s embrace, reached for her Marcasona Mark IV blaster, spun around and aimed it at the source of the movement and the noise, a noise that sounded almost like… giggling?

Anjali found herself face to face with a girl, a little girl of maybe eight or ten. She was dark-skinned with a head full of thick black curls. Brown eyes stared at Anjali, wide with shock at finding themselves on the business end of a blaster.

Anjali lowered her gun with a curse. Beside her, Mikhail relaxed and moved his hand away from his own blaster, which he always wore in a shoulder holster under his jacket.

“Don’t do that again,” Anjali snapped at the girl, taking a deep breath to bring her heart rate back down.

Fuck! She’d almost have shot a kid.

“Sorry. We were hunting monsters,” the girl said, “Invisible monsters.”

It was only now that Anjali noticed a second dark face next to the girl. This one seemed to be a boy, at least judging by the short, close-cropped hair. He also seemed to be younger than the girl or at least shorter.

Mikhail sighed and took a step forward to shut the cabin door. The kids finally took the hint and scooted. But before Mikhail could close the door, Captain Tyrone suddenly appeared in the doorway, one arm draped around each of the kids.

Of course. These were probably the Captain’s kids. The physical resemblance was certainly there and spacers often lived aboard their ships with their whole families. Which meant that Anjali didn’t just almost shoot a kid, she’d almost have shot the Captain’s kid. f**k.

“Sorry if they’re bothering you,” Captain Tyrone said to Mikhail, sounding ever so slightly out of breath, probably because he’d been chasing after his wayward kids, “They know they’re supposed to stay away from the engine room, the bridge and the cargo hold during loading, but they’re still kids. And this stupid monster hunting game has had them enthralled for the past couple of days.”

“It’s all right,” Mikhail said, keeping his face and tone carefully neutral, “They just startled us, that’s all. No harm done.”

Yeah, by pure luck.

The Captain must have had the same thought, because he turned to the two kids and said sternly. “These are Ms. Patel and Mr. Grikov. They’re our security team and you’re not supposed to bother them, while they do their jobs.”

“Hi,” the girl said, flashing Anjali a shy smile. The boy just looked at his feet and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “Sorry.”

Captain Tyrone still had his arms wrapped protectively around his kids. “These are my children, Tasha and Spencer,” he said, “Just let me know if they bother you.”

“Like I said, no harm done,” Mikhail said smoothly. He’d always been the more diplomatic one, not to mention the one who was better with kids. For while Anjali had grown up with an older brother and two younger sisters, she rarely knew what to do with other people’s kids. “We just startle a bit easily.” He gave the Captain and apologetic shrug. “Comes with the job.”

The kids took off as soon as their father let go off them, heading to whatever it was that children did aboard deep space freighters. The Captain lingered behind, suddenly looking weary and older than his years.

“Like I said, I’m sorry about this,” he said to Mikhail, lowering his voice, “They’re good kids, but it’s not easy, especially now that their mother is gone.”

Mikhail nodded, but he didn’t probe, because he wasn’t that kind of person. Though Captain Tyrone told him anyway. “My wife and my oldest son died at Unity.”

“I’m very sorry,” Mikhail said. It wasn’t just polite noise either. He genuinely meant it.

“That’s why I left the Republic behind for good,” the Captain continued, “I’d already lost my wife and my son to the war. I wasn’t going to lose my other kids, too.”

“I understand how hard it must have been…”

Captain Tyrone gave Mikhail a sad smile. “Oh, I’m sure you do. After all, you’re from Jagellowsk.” He made a polite pause. “Do you still have family?”

Mikhail shook his head. “Just me. And now Anjali.”

“What the hell was that all about?” Anjali asked as soon as the Captain was gone and the cabin door closed.

Mikhail sighed. “Apparently, Captain Tyrone lost his wife and eldest kid at Unity Station.”

“Unity Station?” Anjali searched her memories for major and minor battles between the Republic and the Empire, but the name didn’t ring a bell. Which didn’t necessarily have to mean anything — even small skirmishes still could cause casualties. “Crap, was that us?”

Mikhail shook his head. “No, it was us.”

“But… I thought the Captain was Republican?”

“Unity wasn’t a battle.” Mikhail shoved the guns aside and plopped down on the narrow bunk next to Anjali. “It was an accident. A terrible accident.”

Whatever had happened there, it apparently had him rattled, so Anjali reached for his hand.

“Unity Station was a major civil space station orbiting the border world of Legrelle. A Republican battlecruiser was docked there for emergency repairs after the battle of Zatar…”

Anjali nodded. Now that she had heard of.

“When the cruiser left the dock, something went wrong. The bridge crew was inexperienced and so the cruiser collided with the station and ripped open the docks and the main concourse over a length of fifty metres. The internal bulkheads immediately closed, but the people in the affected section had no chance. Over three hundred people died that day, most of them civilians.”

“f**k,” Anjali said softly and squeezed Mikhail’s hand.

“I was there…” Mikhail continued, “…during the aftermath, with Mayhew, doing political damage control. In fact…” He scratched his head. “…I think I briefly talked to Captain Tyrone back then…”

“Do you think he recognises you?” Anjali asked, suddenly anxious.

Mikhail shook his head. “I was pretending to be station security and Captain Tyrone had other things on his mind.”

Anjali breathed a sigh of relief. “Still, with that background, it’s no wonder that the Captain doesn’t seem to think much of the Republic.”

“A lot of us suffered and died on the homefront,” Mikhail said. Anjali just squeezed his hand tighter and leant against him, because she understood.