Ekatya straightened her jacket, took a fortifying breath, and knocked on the door. Footsteps sounded inside, a very familiar, long-legged stride, and her nervousness increased. Then the door opened inward, and she met Lhyn’s eyes for the first time since she’d tried to leave this morning.
Lhyn looked her up and down. “Huh. Thought you’d be in worse shape than that. You don’t look so bad.” She left the door open and walked back inside. It wasn’t exactly an invitation, but it wasn’t a rejection either.
Ekatya closed the door behind her and ventured as far as the living area, standing uncomfortably in the middle of the room. Lhyn had gone to the sideboard and was pouring two glasses of spirits.
“Sit down,” Lhyn said without turning.
She sat on the couch.
Lhyn came back with the glasses, handed one over, and pointedly sat in the chair opposite the couch. “I’ll give you credit for showing up, at least. But I don’t know what you’re expecting from me. I’m so angry at you that I can’t even—” She stopped, a hitch in her breath, and took a large gulp of her spirits.
“You have every right to be. I know I screwed up.”
“Is that what you call it? What a small word that is for trying to sell out an entire civilization. Not to mention leaving me. Oh, and beating up on Lancer Tal after she did nothing but help me. And you. And every fucking person on that shuttle.”
Shippers, but she had her work cut out for her. Lhyn was not going to make this easy.
“Okay,” Ekatya said carefully. “I know you’ve heard about our fight. Did you also hear why we got into it?”
“No, but I assume you were pissed off when you realized she beat you at your own game.”
“I wasn’t playing a game.” She heard the edge in her own voice and made herself slow down. “Anyway, that’s not why we fought. I thought she used empathic force on you.”
“You what?” Lhyn put her glass on the side table and leaned forward. “Are you kidding me?”
“She admitted to forcing Kameha and said she had warrants for every member of my crew except me. I thought that explained why you showed up in Alsean clothing and refused to leave.”
“Oh, I see. It couldn’t possibly be because I have a mind of my own and the willingness to do the right thing. I told you I was going to do that three days earlier. You just refused to take me seriously.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Lancer Tal did an excellent job of disabusing me of my assumptions, right about the time she left me on the floor of the training room. It was like a first-year cadet getting into a fight with the combat instructor.”
“I heard you had to go to the healing center. Are you really all right?”
Ekatya tried not to read too much into her concern. “I’m fine. Lancer Tal patched me up, and then I did the same for her. At least, the parts that I could. We had a…good talk afterward.”
“Stop right there. What do you mean, the parts you could?”
“I, er, cracked her rib.”
After a pause, Lhyn said, “Some cadet. Either you’re better than you say, or she’s not as good as you think, or she let you hurt her.”
“She—” Ekatya stopped. It had never occurred to her that Lancer Tal might have let herself get hurt. No, it didn’t make sense. But she had definitely limited herself in the fight, and that had probably meant she hadn’t been able to defend as aggressively as she would have if she’d been prepared to do real damage.
“She was trying not to hurt me too badly,” she finished. “I’m afraid I wasn’t operating under the same rules.”
Lhyn shook her head and reached for her glass. “Well, I’m impressed with your honesty. But it’s not helping your cause much. What did you talk about afterward?”
So much for honesty. If she said they’d talked about her tyree status, Lhyn would dismiss the idea out of hand. Now was not the time.
“She helped me understand what is and isn’t acceptable in terms of empathic force, and told me exactly what she and her people did to my crew. I’d assumed the worst, but…it wasn’t like that. And we talked a little about our families.”
Lhyn stared at her, an unwilling smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “You talked about your families.”
“Ah…yes?”
“After you beat each other up.”
“Yes.”
“You are eggs from the same bird, you realize that, right?”
She hadn’t thought about it that way. “I guess we are. I mean, we’d be in the same caste if I were Alsean, and we do a very similar job.”
“It’s not the job. It’s your personalities. And that warrior mentality.”
Ekatya shrugged. “I like her.”
“And that’s why I can’t understand how you could leave her and all of her people to the Voloth.”
“It wasn’t personal.” The words were hardly out of her mouth when she remembered Lancer Tal saying exactly the same thing this morning. “And I didn’t do it. If you heard about my fight, then I hope you heard about that, too.”
“Why do you think I even let you in this room? If you hadn’t cancelled that self-destruct, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”
“Then what can I say except I’m sorry? You were right. It took me too long to realize it, but I did. And I was coming back for you.”
“I know,” Lhyn whispered, her eyes tearing up. “But you left me. You walked away without saying good-bye and you left, and I thought that was it. And now you’re sitting here and I’m just supposed to forget that happened? You broke my heart. I can’t fix that in one day.”
Ekatya ached to hold her, but she stayed where she was, her own eyes misting. “You left me too. And you did it in such a way that I couldn’t say good-bye. I thought you did that on purpose, that you didn’t want a good-bye. I couldn’t believe you would stand in the middle of an entire squad of Guards, in front of half the damn base, and—” She stopped and cleared the tears out of her throat. “You’re not the only one who got her heart broken.”
“I didn’t leave you, Ekatya. I begged you to stay.” Lhyn’s eyes overflowed and she wiped her cheeks. “I begged you to stay and you looked at me like I was one of your crew pissing you off.”
Ekatya couldn’t stand it any longer. Crossing to Lhyn’s chair, she knelt beside it and touched her hand. “I’m sorry. I felt ambushed, and I was angry. But I am so glad that wasn’t my last view of you.” She kissed Lhyn’s hand, folded it in her own, and reached up to wipe away a fresh tear. “I’m glad you let me in tonight, if only so that I could say I love you, and I will do my best to make sure you believe me at some point. Hopefully soon.”
“I love you too. But right now that’s not enough. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do. Would you like me to go, then?”
Lhyn nodded, then shook her head. “I don’t know. If I had half a brain, I’d take you to bed right now, because we’re in the end times, aren’t we? Roris and Commander Kameha gave me a reality check today. I know you tried to tell me, but…I guess I didn’t want to believe how little you could actually do. They said you can save Blacksun, but the city might become the last refuge.”
Ekatya smiled. Finally, she could be something Lhyn might be proud of. “Their information is a little out of date. First of all, I think the Alseans have a much better chance of beating the Voloth than I would have dreamed a day ago. And second, I just finished introducing Lancer Tal to Admiral Tsao.”
“You what?” Lhyn sat up straight, her eyes wide.
Ekatya kissed her hand again, let it go, and returned to her seat. “The balance of power has changed. I haven’t had time to tell anyone else yet, but in tonight’s war council we finally found out what was happening to the hullskin.”
She explained everything they’d learned, and what it meant in terms of the Voloth fighters. “But the most important thing is that it’s not the Voloth who have a devastating weapon. It’s the Alseans. And while the Assembly ministers might not know their asses from a hole in the hull, they do know how to act in their own interests. They would be utterly insane to let the Voloth take this planet now. It holds a weapon that could destroy either side.”
“Are you saying—”
“Reinforcements are on their way.”
Lhyn gasped and covered her mouth as the tears flowed anew. “Oh, my stars. Ekatya…”
“Of course the peace treaty hasn’t been annulled yet, so we’re in a little political limbo right now. Seems to be the theme of my life lately. But Admiral Tsao thinks that will be wrapped up by this time tomorrow. She’s already holding general orders of engagement and has sent the nearest ships to respond. There are three destroyers and a Pulsar-class ship heading this way. They’ll be here in seven Alsean days. There’s a Core-class coming as well, but it’ll be a day later.”
“Will they be in time?”
“I hope so. Our spies say the Voloth weren’t able to pre-stage an invasion force during the negotiations, because they’ve had to bring ships in from the other side of their territory. The group I wiped out was the only one on this side. Whatever they send will be coming from their central system, so if they sent it the moment that treaty was signed—and we’re all sure they did—it’s also seven days away. It’ll be close. We’re still planning the battle as if we were entirely on our own, just in case. But I hope to all the highest powers that we won’t have to fight it.”
Lhyn launched herself across the space and threw her arms around Ekatya’s neck. “Thank you. Oh, thank you, this is so fantastic!”
Ekatya closed her eyes and offered up her own gratitude, to Fahla or the universe or whatever she needed to for this moment. Then she felt Lhyn crying and tightened her arms. “If we’re not facing the end, does that mean you won’t take me to bed after all?” she asked.
Lhyn chuckled in spite of her tears. “No, you idiot, I won’t.” She pulled back and sat next to Ekatya on the couch. “You don’t get sexy times just because you might have saved a planet.”
“Great galaxies, you set a high bar. What do I have to do, then?”
“Just…love me. Give me some time.”
“I’ll give you all the time I have.” Ekatya paused. “Is six days enough?”
Lhyn’s laugh was the loveliest sound she’d heard all day. They might not mend this tonight, but they would mend it. That promise was all she needed.