Three Against the Stars (13 page)

Sheel kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand.

Sheel kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand. You know,” she said. “Even when you speak our native language, you never use
I, me, my,
or
mine.
”

Makki frowned. “This one doesn’t?”

Sheel sighed in frustration, and then laughed softly. “You most certainly do not.”

“Then this mewling will strive to do better.”

Makki smiled, but his emotions were a jumble. Though he loved Sheel, he also loved the Corps. Finding his mother’s body, never knowing that she had survived the war, had convinced him that his destiny was to become a Marine. Sheel would have to come to terms with that.

444

Akira’s heart was pounding and racing with anxiety when O’Hara and Cortez stormed out of Dakota’s office. She and Preston rushed after them as the men tramped down the porch steps and headed for the sidewalk like a pair of ill-mannered gorillas.

“Wait, you jarheads!” she called out. “Let me explain!”

O’Hara stopped and turned. Cortez bumped into him and almost fell down. The Irishman pushed him aside and scowled at Akira.

“You went back on your word,” he said.

“Listen to me, O’Hara,” Akira said. “I never—”

Preston tried to intercede. “Look, Sergeant. You have no—”

“I don’t like your face, college boy!” O’Hara told him, his scowl growing darker. “So shut up and blast off, if ya know what’s good for ya.”

“What? What did you say?” Preston asked in amazement.

“You heard him,” Cortez told Preston. “Who do you think you are, showing up like this?”

Preston glared at Cortez. “For your information—”

“What are you trying to do to us?” Cortez asked.

“If you guys would just shut up and listen—” Preston started to say.

“Who you tellin’ to shut up, you keyboard jockey?” O’Hara snapped.

Preston was speechless. Akira had taken all she could. They were arguing about
her
as if she wasn’t even there—and God help anyone who tried to get away with that!

“Cortez! O’Hara!” she yelled. “Pipe down and listen to me, you idiots!”

O’Hara turned to her. “Remember our pact, young lady.” He turned and nodded to Cortez. “Come on. We got ourselves better things to do.”

He and Cortez turned and marched off down the sidewalk.

Akira clenched her fists and stared after them.

Preston shook his head. “I can’t believe the way those guys acted! Can you?”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Akira told him, hoping that would calm her nerves.

“Better yet, let’s hop a cab and go into town,” he suggested.

There were a number of old-fashioned groundcars serving as taxicabs parked outside the main gates of Camp Corregidor. Akira and Preston climbed into one and told the driver to take them to the nearest café in Tantrapur. They rode in silence, holding hands. Preston stared at Akira with concern while she looked out the window.

It wasn’t long past noon when they reached a Rhajni café and grooming house. This was a large, citadel-like structure of pink sandstone. Rhajni catizens in colorful robes, sarongs and tunics dined at sidewalk tables overlooking a canal of sparkling turquoise water. On the café’s roof-top terrace, Rhajni barbers and beauticians groomed their customers. There were also lounge chairs where catizens could take a nap in the sun, and robotic massage tables for weary travelers of every species in the known universe.

Akira and Preston took a sidewalk table next to the café’s entrance, close to the main avenue, so they could watch the tourists and Rhajni going about their business.

“Well, it sure looked like
that
was the right time to tell your friends about us,” he said, wearing a crooked smile. 

Akira shrugged. “I guess so.”

“What did you tell them whenever you went on furlough without them?”

A young Rhajni busboy brought them menus and glasses of ice water.

“That I was going to visit the nuns at the Brackett Town Orphanage on Venus.”

Preston rolled his eyes. “In other words, you lied to them.”

Ashamed to admit it, Akira lowered her gaze and sipped her water.

“I thought they were your friends?”

She looked up at him. “They
are
my friends, Coop. We’ve been to hell and back together. That’s why I’ve been agonizing over this moment and dreading it ever since we got engaged.”

“Then you should have been honest and told them about us right away. That would have been the right thing to do, Claudia.”

Akira shrugged again. “I guess so.”

“Come on, babe. You know I’m right.” Preston opened his menu. “So what’s all this about some pact that O’Hara mentioned?”

Akira set her glass on the table and finally looked at Preston. “Oh. That. Well, we agreed to never get married and break up the team.”

“What? That’s why they’re angry?”

“I’m like their little sister, Coop. Though sometimes I swear—I feel more like their mother. They’re afraid you’re going to take me away from them.”

“Talk about
semper fidelis!
”

A Rhajni waiter in a green apron came to take their order.

“Let’s order lunch,” Akira said. “I’m really hungry.”

Chapter Thirteen

Signs of War

M
akki stood at ease in Dakota’s office. She sat at her desk, flipped through his enlistment papers, and then read his file on her computer screen.

After leaving the temple, Makki had escorted Sheel home. When he returned to Camp Corregidor, Corporal Flix notified him that he was to report to Colonel Dakota, ASAP. Makki wasted little time in rushing over to the colonel’s office.

“I’m afraid your enlistment forms have not been approved, Corpsman Doon,” she said.

Makki’s ears drooped with disappointment. “Does Rhajni army still insist that this mewling attend medical school?”

“That’s not the issue here,” Dakota said. “The problem is, the Marine Corps will not break its long-standing policy—enlistment is still restricted to humans.”

“No other species may join?”

“Not at this time. I’m sorry.”

“Is there nothing Colonel can do?”

Dakota put her computer to sleep and set the enlistment papers aside. “Believe me, I called in more favors than a politician and pulled more strings than a Chicago mob boss. But no one could help me. Right now, my hands are tied.”

Makki’s shoulders sagged with further dejection. “This one understands and very much thanks you for your efforts, Colonel.”

Dakota rose to her feet and held out a hand. “I know how you feel about the Corps, son, and if it’s any consolation, I think you’d make one helluva Marine.”

“This mewling thanks you for your help,” Makki said, shaking her hand.

“And I was very sorry to hear about your mother, Makki. If there’s anything I can personally do, my door is always open to you.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” Makki saluted, turned and left.

He let the screen door to Dakota’s office close quietly behind him, and then he walked down the stairs, head hung low and shoulders slumped with despair. His heart was very heavy, and his dreams were dashed. He didn’t want to attend medical school, though he knew he’d make a good doctor. But his desire to become a Marine was like a vigil candle in his heart. Why he wanted so desperately to become a Marine was something civilians would never understand.

It was a longing that burned deep in his soul.

“Makki! Makki!”

He looked up and saw Sheel waiting at the curb, a suitcase at her feet. Makki’s ears straightened up, and he rushed over to her. He wanted her in his life, too . . . for his entire life.

Sheel smiled as he ran toward her.

“I was looking for you, but thought you had gone on duty,” she said in English.

“No, not on duty. Went to speak with the colonel,” he said, glancing at her suitcase. “Where are you going?”

“After you took me home I received word that my father broke his hip,” she said. “I’m leaving soon for Baldoran-Seven. I came here first, hoping to see you before I left. Did you discuss your enlistment with Colonel Dakota?”

Makki hesitated, and then shook his head. “No. Colonel very much busy right now.”

A Rhajni taxicab pulled up to the curb and stopped.

“I have to leave.” Sheel spoke so quietly that the breeze almost swept her words away.

“When will this one see you again?” Makki asked. His heart labored in his chest, weighed down with sadness. Two disappointments in one day had knocked him off balance.

Sheel caressed his cheek and rubbed her nose against his. “Soon, I hope,” she said, staring adoringly into his eyes. “You know, I think you would make the most handsome Marine in the entire galaxy, my love.”

Makki blinked rapidly, shy and embarrassed. Sheel kissed him on the lips, long and tenderly, then picked up her suitcase and climbed into the waiting cab. As the taxi pulled away from the curb, he fought hard to hold back his tears.

Everyone he had once cared for was gone from him. Now he felt that everyone he had come to care about was leaving him . . . and that his life was on the cusp of some great change.

444

Later that day, a sad and dejected Makki went back into Tantrapur, where he found O’Hara and Cortez wandering around aimlessly. He joined up with them, glad for the company—even if O’Hara was always picking on him and calling him names.

“What the devil are you doing lurkin’ about, ya fuzzy beanpole?” O’Hara asked him.

“O’Hara, where is your heart?” Cortez asked. “Remember Acheron?”

O’Hara blushed. Makki bowed to Cortez.

“This one may ask of you the same question,” Makki told O’Hara. “Is big Irish sergeant looking to stir more trouble?”

“No, we’re going shopping,” O’Hara replied.

“Shopping?” Makki’s ears curled with curiosity. “What is the occasion?”

“Well, it just so happens that the regiment is holding a masquerade ball in two weeks. Don’t you remember? We told you all about it.”

“Of course,” Makki said. “This mewling had a lapse in memory.”

O’Hara rolled his eyes, grunted and shook his head. “Corpsmen!” he said with disgust. “Well, come on. I don’t want the shop to close before we get there.”

Leading the way, O’Hara guided Cortez and Makki through a maze of narrow, winding streets. Eventually they reached a small shop on a lonely backstreet. A sign hanging above the door read,
Jaffe’s Costume Shoppe.
They went inside, and Makki marveled at the various costumes, masks, make-up kits, and various holiday decorations that cluttered the dark, wood-paneled interior. Except for Jaffe, a wizened little guy wearing a monocle, the three companions had the place all to themselves. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Jaffe said, grinning from ear to ear.

O’Hara and Cortez walked over to a display counter piled with a number of metallic, silver belts, each with a buckle with red and green buttons on it.

“We came up with this idea after we found poor Lieutenant Hooks,” Cortez told Makki.

“These belts are the latest in virtual reality costumes,” Jaffe explained. “Each one is programmed with a form-fitting, holographic image guaranteed to—”

“Never mind the mumbo-jumbo,” O’Hara said. “We know how they work.”

“
Si, senor,”
Cortez agreed. “We are hoping to look just like our good friend Makki.”

“What do ya think of that?” O’Hara asked Makki.

“You should be so bloody lucky,” Makki replied.

Jaffe cackled with amusement. Even O’Hara cracked a smile as he and Cortez strapped on the belts and pressed the green buttons on the buckles. The buttons lit up for a few seconds—and the two sergeants
morphed
into Rhajni catizens: O’Hara took on the guise of an ocelotman, while Cortez turned into a lionwoman. They admired themselves in the full-length mirror hanging on one wall, grinning at each other as if they’d just swallowed a pair of fat mice.

Still feeling glum and down in the dumps, Makki managed to muster a faint smile.

“We shall be the life of the party!” said Cortez.

Makki shook his head. “Two sergeants look like idiots.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” O’Hara said.

He and Cortez paid for the rental of their holo-costume belts and then left the shop. Makki felt it necessary to apologize to Jaffe for the sergeants’ poor manners.

Outside, carrying the belts over their shoulders, O’Hara and Cortez paused to take in the scenery. Makki had a hunch they were wondering where to go and what to drink in lieu of alcohol. He was eternally grateful to Azra that there were no taverns on Rhajnara.

“How long shall we stay mad at Akira?” Cortez asked O’Hara.

“Until I say otherwise,” the big Irishman replied. “Don’t forget—she went back on her word. We can’t let her off so easy.”

“What is the reason to be angry at Sergeant Claudia?” Makki asked.

“Ain’t ya heard the news?” O’Hara asked him.

“She is getting married to a journalist named Cooper Preston,” Cortez said.

Makki finally knew the identity of the man in Akira’s photograph. Her marriage was joyful news. It warmed his heart and lifted his spirits.

“Sergeants should be happy for her,” he said. “This one is very much happy for her.”

“I
am
happy for her, ya tick-ridden bag of fur!” O’Hara said. “I’m hopin’ she’ll be askin’ me to walk her down the aisle.”

“And I am hoping that Preston will grant me the honor of being his best man.”

Makki glanced back and forth between them. “What can this one be?”

“The ring bearer,” Cortez said.

“Or a bridesmaid,” O’Hara suggested.

Makki’s chest swelled with pride, even though he wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about. He would have considered it an honor just to be invited to the wedding.

“I have been thinking, O’Hara,” Cortez said. “A few of those black diamonds would make a very fine wedding present. We can go in search of them this afternoon.”

“Oh, no,” O’Hara said. “I’ll be havin’ no part of that. Include me out!”

“You not want to become one very rich man?” Makki asked O’Hara.

O’Hara pointed to his sergeant’s stripes. “All I want is one more of these and then I’ll be a gunny sergeant—and about time I am, too. But you two go right ahead. I won’t even try to stop you. And the best of luck to ya both.”

Cortez smiled and slapped Makki on the back. “Excellent! That will leave more for us!”

Makki showed his teeth and rubbed his paws together.

444

The Tantrapur bazaar was packed with a diverse group of humans and NTLs from all over the known universe. Crowds were thick and traffic was heavy. Catizens and tourists squeezed into Rhajni gift shops and clothing boutiques, gathered around the stalls of carpet dealers and pottery makers, and waited in line for tables at the many coffee houses and restaurants. 

Hand in hand, Akira and Preston strolled through the crowded streets, taking in all the sights, sounds and smells. It was a lovely day, a perfect day for a leisurely stroll.

As they neared the corner of a wide and busy street, she noticed a squad of Drakonian embassy guards in blue uniforms and body armor, guarding a public airbus. The guards struggled to hold back the crowd waiting to board the bus so that a line of Drakonians carrying small bags and suitcases could board in advance of the other passengers. Akira glanced at the scene, but thought nothing of it at the time. She shrugged and turned to Preston.

“Your parents must really be looking forward to our marriage,” she said. “What with you being an only child and all. They seemed to like me.”

“They did.” Preston poked her in the shoulder. “And I like you, too.”

Akira laughed and squeezed his hand. “So what’s this story you were sent here to write?”

“My editor left it up to me,” he told her. “But he did suggest that I write something about the Marines stationed here, and how the Rhajni feel about it.” He grinned mischievously. “I also thought it would be a good opportunity to train for our honeymoon.”

“My word, Coop—what kind of a Marine do you think I am?”

They laughed at their silliness, and then Preston reached into a pocket. He pulled out a computer flashchip and handed it to Akira.

“Here’s another surprise for you, Claudia. Hot off the keypad.”

Akira stared at the memory stick. “You finished it?”

Preston grinned like a schoolboy. “Yep! It’s an old fashioned romance novel about Anne Bonny, the eighteenth century pirate queen.”

“Well congratulations and move over, Rafael Sabatini!” Akira said, slipping the chip inside the breast pocket of her uniform blouse. “I’ll read it on our honeymoon.”

“What makes you think you’re gonna have any time to read?”

A number of Drakonian tourists carrying luggage suddenly rushed past them and hurried toward the waiting airbus.

“That’s odd,” Akira said, frowning. “The starcruiser from the Drakonian Hegemony isn’t due to settle into orbit until next week.”

“Maybe they’re taking the Omegan starliner that brought me here?”

“But why are they all in such a hurry?”

They watched the Drakonians pile into the airbus, leaving little room for the other passengers. The airbus then lifted off mere seconds after the guards from the Drakonian Embassy managed to squeeze their massive bulks inside the vehicle.

Akira had a bad feeling about this, but chose not to say anything to Preston. He’d only worry about her and then go all crazy hoping to get an exclusive story. But something was up, and she didn’t like what she was thinking.

It was time she returned to Camp Corregidor.

444

Beneath the light of a setting sun, a small rented skycar soared over terraced farmlands, sparkling rivers, expansive plains, and vast salt flats.

The interior of the skycar was illuminated by fiber optic lights and the glow from the navigation monitors. A small dashboard and two comfortable chairs took up the front half of the vessel. The remainder of the skycar contained storage compartments, plastic water bottles, a first aid kit, and a one-man airbike; this was akin to a jet ski mounted on top of a sled, with an old wiry antenna running along one side of it.