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CHAPTER 27

MORWYN

Learning from defeat will prevent you from suffering it again. Learning from victory will make it easier to achieve.

—­Prefect Admiral Ondrius Soltaine, the 3rd of Sunderlund, SSM-­03 1415 A2E

11th of SSM–10 1445 A2E

T
his is my crew, this is my ship.

The thought was nowhere near as disheartening as it had been to Morwyn Soltaine less than a day ago. Here in the mess hall, his hands deep in warm soapy water, he watched his crew unwinding all while doing his best to conceal a smile on his face and yet knowing full well that he was probably beaming with pride. His father had once told him that a proper ship's captain should treat his crew to a home-­cooked meal whenever they had done a good job.

Where standard Covenant-­issue meal gel-­packs would have normally been on the menu, they simply would not do. Therefore Morwyn had chosen to cook up a crate of fresh Sunderlund salmon steaks that he had been saving for a future shore leave.

Fortunately for the meal, Dr. Varsin also kept a small garden of herbs in the medical bay's cold storage. Morwyn had sautéed them in oil, adding a squeeze of lemon for flavor. The crew had more than earned this meal and he had been incredibly proud to cook it for them.

Morrigan Brent had added the meal's finishing touch, giving up some of his potatoes along with some crude carrots and mushrooms from his personal stores. These Morwyn had cooked and fried with the salmon as well. The meal had then been topped off with two bottles of Alexandran wine. They were an old vintage dating back to the beginning of the Second Expansion. The wine, like Morwyn's personal bottle of brandy, had also been a gift for the crew of the
Jinxed Thirteenth
by his older brother Cynthio.

It saddened Morwyn in no small measure to put most of the crew back into carbon sleep so soon after having awakened them. But there was no other option to help preserve the ship's dwindling oxygen supplies. It would still take machinists Oran and Kolto two standard Sol months before they could complete the repairs on the slipdrive.

Pilot Harlowe had been able to get the ship in a safe orbit around the planet. She would also now need to run a full systems diagnostic. It was the only way to make sure the
Jinxed Thirteenth
's stellar charts and operating systems were still intact.

After repairs it would be a four-­month slip to reach the nearest Covenant world for repairs and refueling. By his most optimistic estimate it would be a full standard year before Morwyn saw any of them again. The Infinite damn him if they would not be sent to sleep with a stomach full of good wine and good food to match.

With a half glass of red in him, Morwyn was already feeling a bit light-­headed. He could tell by the numerous smiles at the tables in the mess hall that no doubt everyone else was in a similar condition. He was glad to see this. It was good for a team to celebrate victories together.

They had been, and he was certain of it, incredibly lucky. Unlike the wine, victory had never really gone to Morwyn's head. It had always just been a more . . . preferable outcome to any conflict he had found himself in.

As for doing the dishes by hand?

Well, that had always just been the right and proper thing to do. And truth be told, Morwyn would have thought it plain rude forcing these brave men and women who had risked life and limb in the rescuing of a complete stranger. He often had found that doing the dishes by hand had a meditative and calming effect on him. It was why he had always volunteered for the task back in his days at the academy. This time alone allowed him to watch the crew mingle and speak with each other.

Morrigan Brent and Arturo Kain were sharing a table with Sergeant Lucky. The trio shared a liquor-­savored vapostick while laughing. Even Arturo with his practiced arrogance shifted his demeanor and gave Morrigan a friendly pat on the shoulder as the two no doubt recounted a portion of their adventure on the station to Lucky, who nodded in amusement at what he was hearing.

Chance, her face flushed from the wine, was giggling madly at a joke that Private Beatrix had finished telling her. Chance's laughter was cut off as she let out a belch. This elicited even more fits of laughter between the two young women.

Despite all her injuries, Beatrix was beaming with pride and genuine positivity. Marla Varsin had done up Beatrix's broken leg in a metal boneweaver splint. Her sides were also tightly bandaged; having been injected with stem-­paste, Beatrix's bones would be mended in a week.

Private Phaël was presently still in the medical bay, being treated by Dr. Varsin. The gash across her back had been stitched shut, since Phaël had insisted that no stem-­paste of any kind be used on her. Dr. Varsin had done her best with the stitches, but the wound would no doubt leave a lasting scar across her back.

Private Lunient Tor was, surprisingly, seated next to Commander Jafahan. The two were loudly discussing the merits of her laser carbine over the merits of Tor's chemical bolt rifle. Lunient was defending his points while keeping himself safely out of Jafahan's reach.

All this crew, men and women from different walks of life who had awakened separate and divided, were now mixing with each other. Witnessing these exchanges was something beautiful. Morwyn had had many reasons for leaving the Pax Humanis to serve under the Covenant, and the scene unfolding before him was one of them.

Here, far beyond the mapped borders of Covenant Space, on an old ship, with several solid walls between him and the cold void, his hands covered in water and soap, Morwyn Soltaine, third son of Prefect Admiral Ondrius Soltaine, did not regret the decision that had led him to this point. With that the last dish was cleaned, dried and done.

Morwyn looked up from his completed task only to see the crew watching him. Beatrix shot Morwyn a smile and raised her glass. “To the captain. My friend, my brother, I promise to follow you, from the Cradle herself to the Known End and beyond.”

Morwyn and the crew echoed together in unison. “To the Known End and beyond.”

Her toast finished, Beatrix downed her drink in a sharp gulp. Arturo Kain and Chance both did the same. Commander Jafahan snorted something under her breath, which Lunient heard and snickered at. Yet even they both raised and finished their drinks as well. Morrigan Brent was the only one who had not done so and he rose to his feet, taking a step toward Morwyn.

“In Ador the host is offered the kindness of the last drink.” Morrigan offered up his tin cup to Morwyn. “I would ask that you accept the spirit of this kindness, Captain Sir.”

Morwyn accepted the offered cup. “Private Brent, you have my humbled thanks.” He gave a satisfied nod to his now-­empty cup. “And this will do just fine.”

“Y
ou were lucky, boy.” Morwyn paused in his step and held back a sigh. Commander Eliana Jafahan always made it a point to call Morwyn “boy” whenever a lesson was about to be doled out.

Morwyn had thought he was alone in the ship's main corridor when suddenly Commander Jafahan had called out to him. He had thought to make his way toward the storage bay and check up on Machina Chord.

“How so, Commander?” Morwyn paused in the hall, allowing Jafahan to catch up with him. She was favoring her right leg at the moment, which probably did not help her dark mood.

“You should've detached the ship the moment there was something amiss. We could always have made another pass at the station. But you, boy, felt the need to make a point to the crew.” Jafahan poked Morwyn rudely in the chest while she said this.

“Watch yourself, Commander.”

Jafahan's slap was hard and fast, catching Morwyn completely off guard. His ear was ringing as she sharply shoved him against the wall.

“Piss on that, boy! I'm not here to suckle your cock. I'm here to make sure those ideals you claim to stand for don't get you and the rest of this crew killed!”

“The crew was going to be broken in at some point, Commander.” Morwyn took a step away, still watching Jafahan closely.

She cocked her head, turning her metallic eye to see him. “So you forced the rival elements of the crew to work together?”

Morwyn nodded. “I could not just detach the ship and flee to safety. The crew had to see that we were standing together. They had to see the true color of their captain as I had to see the true color of those serving in my command.”

Jafahan spat on the floor. “Not when both the ship and crew are compromised! You might feel like you're clever because you made it through this alive with everyone more or less intact, but you know what?” Jafahan squinted her one eye, jabbing her index sharply in Morwyn's chest. “There isn't a clever man alive who can outthink a knife across his throat or the cold void outside these walls.”

“Are you done?” Morwyn knew it was pointless to ask. Jafahan would not stop until she felt her point had been made, heard and understood.

“That would depend on whether or not the boy in front of me is just playing soldier or a grown man done with games. You might have earned this crew's respect, but do not trick yourself into believing that they are your friends.”

A flash of his former Pax-­Kelthan privilege almost caused Morwyn to remind Jafahan of her station. A calming breath caused him to think better of it. This was not Sunderlund, this was not the Pax Humanis—­this was the Covenant, and here everyone was equal.

And just the same, he knew it had been arrogant to assume no lives would be lost. Morwyn looked away from Jafahan. “You are right. I risked the lives of my fellow crewmates. I treated this mission like a training operation, and I was very fortunate that those under my command delivered.”

When next he locked eyes with Jafahan, his tone was humbled. “Commander, you have my word that I will not let my values endanger anyone from here on out.” He then added, “And you have my thanks for exposing my shortcomings.”

There was a long pause and Jafahan finally gave him a slight begrudging grunt. She cleared her throat. “I wasn't sure of your motives, Captain.”

“My father may have sent you to watch over me, but, Commander . . . you would never have made it on this ship if I did not want you here in the first place. I know that I am bound to make mistakes during my command. In those cases there is no one I trust more than you.”

“You always were a good pup, Morwyn Soltaine.” She gave his chest a friendly slap. “That don't mean you can't drive this bad dog crazy sometimes.”

Morwyn smiled. “Careful, Commander. If anyone were to witness this exchange they might be inclined to believe that you are going soft.” Morwyn brought his fist to his heart in a salute.

Jafahan nodded, puffed up her chest and returned it in kind. “Should I get the crew ready for sleep, then, sir?”

“Yes, Commander, please do.”

Commander Jafahan stepped past Morwyn, and as she did he called back to her sweetly, “Sleep well, Eliana.”

Jafahan snorted, but did not look back or pause in her step as she walked away from him. “Oh, grow up, you child.”

 

CHAPTER 28

JAFAHAN

6th of SSM–01 1444 A2E

R
are is the day where Eliana Jafahan has seen proud Morwyn Soltaine dejected and defeated. Yet tonight is a first. She does not enjoy the sight. As if sensing this, Morwyn leans back in his seat, looking away in a vain attempt to hide the emotions he is visibly struggling with.

“I don't want to be here. I can't . . . I can't in good conscience serve the Hegemon's Law anymore.” Morwyn is fiddling nervously with his glass of brandy. She can see the slight tremble in his fingers.

Outside, the streets of Barsul are alive tonight. Loud and resonating with the dying echoes of the riots between Pax Humanis Law Enforcement and the downtrodden declassified Pax citizens who call the ghettos of Barsul their home, located on the “paradisic” Pax protectorate world of Ambrosia. For obvious reasons, violent and crime-­ridden Barsul is not the city that the Pax tourism bureaus openly advertise about.

A part of Jafahan is saddened to see Morwyn in this state. Another is not shocked by any of this. Morwyn has, for the most part, lived a privileged Kelthan's life. He has never truly wanted or needed for anything. Morwyn has just witnessed the violence and riots firsthand, and part of him is trying to make some sort of sense of it all.

“You should have thought twice before giving that silly little speech of yours, boy.” Jafahan looks over her shoulder to see almost everyone present in this tavern shooting both her and Morwyn dirty looks. It comes as no surprise, given the fact that Morwyn is still wearing his now-­dirty uniform. Very few citizens in Barsul have any sort of respect for the Pax Humanis or its ­officers.

Morwyn manages a weak smile before taking a sip from his drink. Jafahan feels a brief moment of pity for the boy. No amount of VAR training, no matter how advanced, can ever really prepare anyone for the dirty reality of actual violent conflict.

“The good do not needlessly harm, for life in all its forms is precious and worthy of our respect. It is a lovely and wonderful ideal, one not as distant as the stars and yet still sadly beyond our reach.” Morwyn recites the lines from his infamous graduating speech before taking another long swig of brandy.

“Why are we in this day and age unable to live up to that standard?” Morwyn looks away from Jafahan and shakes his head sadly.

“Not everyone shares that ideal, little pup.” It is not in Jafahan's habit or manner to be this soft, but Morwyn is like a son to her.

“I know, and we will never be able to control the way our enemies, or perceived enemies, will react to our actions. We can, however, control how we react to them. Would it not be a great display of courage and strength on our part? Not to show the lines we are willing to cross when we are challenged, but by the lines we will not?” Morwyn downs his drink and quickly pours himself another.

Jafahan has never once known Morwyn Soltaine to either be a drunk or a defeatist. A man of his talent and values will languish and waste away serving the will of the Hegemons. Jafahan reaches over the table and touches Morwyn's hand.

“Sadly for you I don't think you'll find many a friendly ear to those words in the Pax Humanis.” Jafahan pulls her hand back.

“I am wasting my time and life here.” Morwyn sits back in his seat, finishing his fourth glass of brandy tonight in one sharp gulp. He winces sharply before speaking. “Tell me, Eliana, what would you have me do?”

“If you were to ask me I would say it is a waste of talent and effort. But—­” Jafahan leans forward in her chair and beckons him to do the same. She almost whispers the next part. “Have you ever considered volunteer ser­vice in the Covenant's Patrol?”

11th of SSM–10 1445 A2E

“S
he's a good girl, Chance. Reminds me of my youngest daughter when she was her age.” Lucky exhaled a long wisp of smoke from his vapostick before offering it to Commander Jafahan.

“That frightened little pup could do far worse than to have you as her teacher,” Jafahan replied, and was shocked when Lucky shot her a reproachful look.

“I served the military a long time, Seft Sister Jafahan. And I wouldn't wish it as a punishment for my worst enemy.” Lucky gave his left knee a long rub. “Little Chance refuses to take a life. Only in Kelthan-­Paxist society would that be considered a weakness. Correct?”

“You never made it a habit of lying to me, my Seft brother.” Jafahan breathed in cinnamon flavored smoke and enjoyed the head rush of the vaporized rum lacing it. She held the smoke in her lungs before exhaling a large cloud. Jafahan could feel her aches slowly melt away. She handed the vapostick back to Lucky, who accepted it with a smile.

“Gratitude, Seft brother.” It was always a pleasure for Jafahan to be able to converse in Wolven. Pax Common felt like too emotionless and superficial a dialect; Wolven, on the other hand, allowed one to openly express not only the idea but also the emotion behind it, often making for more honest exchanges.

Jafahan was dressed in her white boxer shorts and tank top. She and Lucky had just finished their individual warm showers and were both prepped and ready for carbon sleep. However, neither one was in any particular rush.

Lucky inhaled a long breath of smoke and blew out plumes of relaxed vapor through his nostrils, reminding Jafahan of a mythical drake. “If lasses and fellas can't enjoy a friendly smoke, then why bother breathing, I ask you?”

“Fighting, humping, living.” Jafahan shrugged. “I've made it a habit of thinking that motivation is often a matter of occasion.”

The two were presently in the showers, sitting on the bench. Behind them, Lunient Tor was washing himself inside a stall, whistling and singing away in Confederated Kelthan. His off-­tune notes caused both Lucky and Jafahan to cough out their smoke in a fit of laughter.

Jafahan took in another long haul from the vapostick. If she was going to spend the next six months in carbon sleep, she'd rather it be with a slight head buzz. At the very least it distracted her from her still very stiff sprained ankle. “Figured a warm-­blooded Seft brother like yourself wouldn't mind an even warmer pair of breasts to bury his head in before the sleep-­freeze.”

“Why, my sweet Seft Sister Jafahan, you've up and started the courting of this old dog far too late in his seasons.” Lucky shot Jafahan a sly grin. “Warming up bodies is a game for the young.” He winced as he got up, his left knee letting out a stiff pop. “Enjoy the vapor. Hope you can find some proper . . . heat before the coming cold, my warm Seft sister.”

“You watch me and I'll watch you,” Lucky and Jafahan called out to each other. They spoke the words friendly and true-­like, their Wolven creating a lovely harmony. Lucky limped heavily out of the shower room toward the medical bay. Jafahan was now alone with nothing but the sounds of the background hum of the ship and Lunient's whistling.

She cracked her toes, glad to no longer have them confined in boots. She let out a deep sigh as she felt the cold metal floor beneath her feet. With the remainder of the crew busy preparing themselves for their carbon sleep, Jafahan had thought to stay out of the way and go into her sleep tube last. Having spent the majority of her life living on vessels, she had grown accustomed to the experience. Carbon sleep was no longer all that unpleasant for her, just odd.

It felt as if it had been an eternity since she had been able to enjoy any real rest. Infinite, help her with that boy Morwyn. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing that she had remained retired in comfort back on Sunderlund. Her right ankle was sore and Jafahan could feel all the aches and bruises in her body.

“Feeling a bit too old for this game, are we now, Commander Ma'am?” Jafahan was almost startled by Lunient Tor as he was suddenly standing before her dripping wet, a towel covering his waist. Jafahan shook her head and blew out smoke, holding back a grin. There were few ­people, if any, who had ever been able to get the drop on her. Lunient was good.

“At present I'm feeling a bit too old to be given watch over a litter of helpless cubs.” Jafahan looked Lunient over. He was lean, fit and, despite his almost bleached white skin, not at all unpleasing to the eyes.

Lunient looked over his shoulder to the rest of the shower stalls. “You know, ma'am. A day ago I would have been afraid to be in the same room as you.”

“I hope for your continued personal health that that hasn't changed,” Jafahan replied as she stood up, arching and cracking her back. “Is there a reason for this particular disturbance on your part, Private Tor?”

Lunient didn't look away. Instead he deliberately looked her up and down with his night-­eyes and smiled. The thin scar on his lower lip made it look like his smile reached his cheek. “I was hoping to share a few more words with you before going to sleep.”

Jafahan snorted. “I've enjoyed explaining to you why your humping rifle is a piece of pig's shite.”

Lunient took a step toward Jafahan. When he spoke it was in hilariously broken and off-­key Wolven. “I was rather hoping of sharing warmth with a Seft sister before going into the cold dark sleep.”

Jafahan let out a sudden and quite uncharacteristic loud cackle. She then took a menacing step toward Lunient—­there was a growing bulge in his towel. Jafahan was not at all unpleased with what she glimpsed.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear.” She took a haul from her vapostick before shoving Lunient against a nearby wall and blowing a long wisp of vapor in his face.

“I am not your friend, your future love or a little girl.” Jafahan punctuated this by rudely poking Lunient in the chest.

“Weren't looking for any of the above.” Lunient didn't blink as Jafahan poked him, but she saw him take a sharp, almost frightened breath. He wasn't certain if his little gambit was going to result in pleasure or more pain.

Good, he should always be second-­guessing himself with me.

“Consider yourself thoroughly warned.” She held his gaze with her own. “Cross the captain or myself and mine will be the last face your eyes ever see. I tell you now, Tor, your ending will neither be quick, painless or pleasant.”

Lunient gulped as Jafahan came close to him. She sniffed his neck deeply. His smell, even with a slight hint of fear in it, was—­like his size—­not unpleasant.

Good, he should always be afraid around me.

“And the same fate will befall you should anyone—­and I do mean anyone—­ever find out about this.”

Jafahan had never once been an easy prize to either her foes or loves. While under normal circumstances she would probably never have considered Lunient's offer, the truth remained that she had just faced death and right now Jafahan needed something more than a nice glass of wine or alcohol-­laced vapors.

Right now what she wanted more than anything was the comfort of a warm body. Lunient Tor was here. He was willing. He would, not so regrettably, have to do.

Jafahan was first to act, pulling Lunient's mouth onto hers, and almost tearing his head off. She undid his towel and his hands quickly cupped her breasts. Jafahan dragged Lunient onto the ground, then rolled on top of him.

“You feel hard enough for me,” Jafahan said as her hand found her way between Lunient's legs. She slipped off her underpants. “You had best control yourself until I'm done, Tor.”

Lunient's eyes went wide, his breath almost trapped in his throat. He gulped. “Fear, it can be a powerful stimulant, ma'am.” Lunient's voice was a pleasured quivering groan.

“You might have heard that Wolvers fuck like wild animals.” Jafahan rocked her hips against Lunient, leaning down as she bit his ear hard. “The truth, Private Tor, is that wild animals fuck like Wolvers.”