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The bulkheads hummed in the bowels of the Merope-7. Mara palmed open the door to the cryo deck and stepped inside.<\/p>\nThe bulkheads hummed in the bowels of the Merope-7. Mara palmed open the door to the cryo deck and stepped inside.<\/p>\n
Cryotanks stood in their slots around the edges of the room. Windows in the upper sections showed the faces of those who were frozen. Sergeant Pallas, his chin tilted upward, his eyes peacefully closed. He looked as if he were about to ascend into heaven, if there were such a place. Mara had her doubts. The other members of his commando team were similarly frozen, ready to be thawed at her command. While they all looked so peaceful, in truth they probably expected to pick up their guns and fight the moment they awoke.<\/p>\n
As she looked at each of their faces, Mara wanted nothing more than to tell them the war was over. She imagined the looks of relief on their faces as she thanked each one of them for their service.<\/p>\n
Of course, where they would go next was anyone\u2019s guess. As she thought back to her time on the Aegis, she realized that Sergeant Pallas was more likely to meet the news with disappointment than relief. The others, she hadn\u2019t served with long enough to know their reactions.<\/p>\n
You would be disappointed, too, if the war had ended before you\u2019d had your chance to avenge your father.<\/em><\/p>\n The thought stabbed her like a knife. She could still see the Imperial officer\u2019s face the moment before she\u2019d blown his brains out. The terror in his eyes, mixed with the sinking realization that he was already dead. She\u2019d expected that moment to feel satisfying. Instead, she\u2019d felt dead inside ever since.<\/p>\n And yet, if she could turn back the clock and end the war, preventing that awful moment from ever happening, she didn\u2019t know that she would.<\/p>\n The door hissed open, and Mathusael stepped inside. \u201cThere you are. Been looking all over for you, Captain.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t call me that.\u201d<\/p>\n He put a broad hand on her shoulder. \u201cHey. What\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen is this war going to be over?\u201d When can I stop sending people to their deaths?<\/p>\n \u201cLast I heard, there\u2019s some intrigue on Gaia Nova that could shape up to be another coup. Who knows what the outcome will be, but the odds at Vulcana are three to one that the war ends within a standard year.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCome on. You and I both know that\u2019s bullshit.\u201d<\/p>\n Mathusael grinned. \u201cAs a betting man, I prefer to see it as an opportunity. It\u2019s not like our pay is going to get any better.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSome would say that it\u2019s enough just to win our liberty.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you?\u201d<\/p>\n She smirked. \u201cI\u2019d put the odds at four to one that we get out of this damn thing alive. What difference does it make when you\u2019re dead?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd yet, here you are.\u201d<\/p>\n To that, she didn\u2019t have an answer.<\/p>\n She walked past the commandos to the last cryotank in the corner. The face on the other side of the glass wasn\u2019t peaceful at all, but contorted in terror and pain. Aaron Deltana: drop-ship pilot on the Aegis and former captain of the Merope-7. Now, little more than a brain-fried vegetable. She\u2019d frozen him in cryo in the hopes that they\u2019d find some way to cure him. But now, that hope seemed as far-fetched as a swift and peaceful end to the war.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s only three of us left from Delta Oriana,\u201d she said in their native Deltan. \u201cFour, if you count Isaac. God only knows what\u2019s happened to him. And Aaron might as well be dead, so that leaves just you and me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThree to one, Mathusael. One of us is gonna go, and it sure as hell had better not be you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Aaron\u2019s not dead yet. Don\u2019t give up on him.\u201d<\/p>\n Mara laughed bitterly. \u201cWell, if Aaron doesn\u2019t count, that means we both go down together. That certainly seems more likely. And with Aaron\u2019s luck, he\u2019ll probably end up drifting in space for another thousand years until someone finally finds and rescues him. The last Deltan. Poetic, don\u2019t you think?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStop.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt won\u2019t all be bad, of course. They may even be able to cure him. But when he realizes that all the rest of us are gone\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStop,\u201d Mathusael repeated. He wasn\u2019t laughing. His frown was so deep, his thick black beard hid his mouth. Mara hadn\u2019t realized how much her words had affected him.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry,\u201d she said. \u201cEver since the war, I\u2019ve been something of a pessimist.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve noticed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIn all seriousness, when this war is over, do you think we\u2019ll be able to cure him?\u201d<\/p>\n Mathusael grunted. \u201cIt\u2019s a wide universe, Mara. I\u2019m sure there\u2019s someone out there who can help him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow can you be sure?\u201d<\/p>\n He smiled. \u201cHow can you be so sure that there isn\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n Mara rolled her eyes at his non-answer. Then she realized it wasn\u2019t a non-answer at all. He really meant it.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not sure of anything anymore,\u201d she admitted. \u201cAll I know is that people are depending on me, even though my job is to send them to their deaths.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s not quite true. High Command makes the life and death decisions. Your job is to clean up their mistakes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s the difference?\u201d<\/p>\n His smile turned into a look of puzzlement. \u201cThere\u2019s a huge difference. Your job is to help us live and find on, not to send us to our deaths.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot when High Command says otherwise.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou should lose the pessimism, Mara. It isn\u2019t doing you any favors.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOn the contrary,\u201d she retorted. \u201cIt\u2019s an excellent defense mechanism. Pessimists are always right in the long run.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut they always get their timing wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n She shrugged. \u201cWhy does that matter?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause if all you do is wait for your world to end, you\u2019ll never be able to change it.\u201d<\/p>\n Mara stared at Aaron\u2019s contorted face and pondered Mathusael\u2019s words. He was right, of course. But then again, he didn\u2019t face the same burden of command.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll be at Colkhia soon,\u201d he said, breaking the silence.<\/p>\n She nodded. \u201cThat\u2019ll make the crew happy. A short leave will be good for them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, it will.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow about your wife and children? Do you think you\u2019ll hear from them?\u201d<\/p>\n He chuckled. \u201cIf I do, it\u2019ll probably be that she wants money or something. That, or some dashing young star wanderer has run off with her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho\u2019s the pessimist now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHey, so long as she\u2019s happy.\u201d<\/p>\n The shipwide intercom switched on, with Apollo\u2019s voice carrying through. \u201cAttention all hands, we are making the final jump to Colkhia in five minutes. Captain and first officer to bridge.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDuty calls,\u201d said Mathusael.<\/p>\n Mara nodded, making one last glance around the room. The men frozen in cryo were depending on her, as well as everyone else on the ship. Her decisions would determine whether they would live or die. If it was just herself, that wouldn\u2019t be so hard. But to have the lives of so many others at stake\u2014that was enough for her to envy the men under ice.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The bulkheads hummed in the bowels of the Merope-7. Mara palmed open the door to the cryo deck and stepped inside. Cryotanks stood in their slots around the edges of the room. Windows in the upper sections showed the faces of those who were frozen. Sergeant Pallas, his chin tilted upward, his eyes peacefully closed.… Continue reading WIP excerpt: Patriots in Retreat<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1019,855],"tags":[474],"class_list":["post-11212","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-ssf-vi","category-ssf","tag-excerpts","entry"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7iXK-2UQ","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onelowerlight.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11212","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onelowerlight.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onelowerlight.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onelowerlight.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onelowerlight.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11212"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.onelowerlight.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11212\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11213,"href":"https:\/\/www.onelowerlight.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11212\/revisions\/11213"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onelowerlight.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11212"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onelowerlight.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11212"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onelowerlight.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11212"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}