Princess

Nightmare-filled hellscape, would probably be the best way to describe my delirious three-day slumber. Calling it anything else brought up too many otherworldly concepts and broken half-recollections to put into words. Although my return to the waking world was intermittent, brief flashes of consciousness blurred with all the nightmares. I chased a bright beacon; a tower of light while I was wandering in the dark. He was always there.

Awake and asleep, Boomer was always by my side.

It was no different when I finally came fully to. I cracked open eyes so dry they felt like balls of steel wool against my sandpaper eyelids. Cramped into the tiny recovery room of the Stalking Shadow amidst all the medical equipment I had seen a hundred times before, he was slumped against the wall and dozing. A pile of discarded food wrappers and empty fluid jugs spilled from the overflowing waste bin beside his scuffed boots.

Boomer, the man who'd saved me all those years ago.

What had happened with the mission? It all blurred together as I tried to command the memories to surface, but they mixed with the nightmares until it was all a hazy mush. We'd pulled through, just like we always did. The specifics could wait until later.

My old man had aged as gracefully as a hard life had let him. His double chin was tucked towards his bulging pot-belly, exposing the full severity of his balding crown and what was left of his greasy greying hair. He had his usual sweat-stained coverall on, its upper half unzipped and tied around his midsection, exposing the yellowing tank top underneath. The bulging pockets of provisions at his flabby thighs suggested he'd been on watch for some time, with no intention of being relieved. I twisted my head to get a better look at his face, but a flare of pain in my neck let a groan slip from my scabbed lips. Boomer's head jerked up, eyes open in an instant.

"You're awake." He said, staring straight into my unnatural eyes.

"Seems so. You been here long, old man?" Boomer hastily kicked some wrappers under my cot as he shifted himself further upright.

"Not long at all. What do you remember?"

"It's all mixed up with my nightmares. We were delivering something, but then…" Boomer leaned back to give me space while I untangled my thoughts. "There were rogue bots and aliens and magic." I could only shake my head. "It's all a mess up here."

I tried to lift my right hand to point at temple, but the limp lump was heavier than it should be. I used my other hand to lift the blanket and look at myself. The light gown was unsurprising, but the cast on my right hand was. When did I break my hand?

My memory clicked back into place and I remembered it all. Breaking my hand, putting the gun to my chin, sending Diaz to buy us time.

"Di-" I swallowed the lump in my throat and screwed up my resolve. "Diaz?"

"He hasn't kicked the bucket yet, but he's in rough shape. It's still too soon to say. He's got the medically inclined among us scratching their heads at how the hell he ain't dead yet."

"Because even death can't take Mister Perfect if he doesn't want to go." Another memory clicked into place. "He's got promises to keep. What about Nye? And Shores? And-" Boomer held up a belaying hand.

"Battered and bloody, but they'll make it."

A shaking breath finally left me. I never knew relief could feel so much like nausea, unless the dizziness and overwhelming urge to upchuck my guts were unrelated.

"It's okay-" Boomer started.

"Okay? It was a shit show! I screwed everything up and almost got everyone killed! What part of that is okay?"

"The part where you brought us all home. The part where we all survived to fight another day. To learn from our mistakes." He took my working hand in his own. "To see the people we care for. You finished the job too. You must have done something right."

I took my hand from his to wipe my watery eyes and snotting nose as a bitter smile spread my scabbed lips, which left me tasting blood.

"It was all my fault. If I hadn't taken that job, none of it would have happened." Boomer shifted on the well-padded rump and winced, drawing his hand from my lap to clutch his pains. "What do you need? I can call for Gerald."

"I should be asking you that, little princess of mine." A soft smile threatens his lips. Mine too. Both came to light after a few shy seconds.

"From the sounds of it, you did a decent job taking care of all them. Hell, you even got me back in one piece, and I was sleeping on the job."

"A decent job?" My heartfelt smile soured. I tried and failed to put on a stony glare in place of a misty one. Boomer saw through it instantly, just like he always did.

"How are you doing in there?"

His words forced the flood I was holding back. He said no more. There was nothing more to say. He just held me while I sobbed. He brushed my hair and hummed sweet nothings deep in his chest like he had that dreadful night we first met in decades past. All while I let out what I'd held in for too long. Nothing had changed but time. Our bodies were bigger, but our souls were still broken mirrors of each other. We were still fighting for our place in an uncaring galaxy while the stars rained down more misery than anyone should have to face alone. It was enough to break the old man's heart based on the sympathetic tears he shed on my bare shoulder, but he hummed on, for me.

The words were lost to time, but the tune stayed with him long after the old man's first war had ended. Too many battles fought on too many worlds, I knew he'd give it up as soon as I would. The old man would get himself killed protecting me, but I couldn't leave this life behind. Not until I carved out a place for him to find his peace.

His wistful bassy humming filled the room. It was a tune that helped you to see the light of tomorrow when the world offered only hardship. A song of companions lost but living on in the memories of those left behind. A hymn of love between those who would trade their lives for brothers and sisters, daughters and fathers.

The tune finished long before my tears ran dry, so Boomer switched to another and another after that one. By the end of it, I was humming between the sobs too. The original meanings were lost to the ages, but the new ones they shared carried in the space between us before we broke apart. I knew I was blushing while the old man wept openly for times long past and the gift of today. The sight of his manly tears nearly sent me sobbing again, but I held it together. For him.

"I'm sor-" I started.

"Don't be. There's no reason to. I'm here for you even if you can't let me in. Sometimes these things happen, no reason for it. What matters is what we do when the fuse is burning. Nothing lasts forever, Natalia. That is why we must cherish the things we love. Because one day, all will be nothing but memories and dust. I couldn't protect you, but I can help to heal this wound in your heart. Tell me of it, all of it."

And so I did, recounting it to him in all the detail I could manage. When I struggled, he offered a word of encouragement and when I halted, trying to spare his feeling, he offered a passive question or a stern glance. He held my eyes with his and gently drew the tale from me all the while. When he moved to stand, I paused to aid him, and when I needed to order my tangled thoughts, he let me. When I finished, he looked for the words I needed to hear, just like he always did.

"You made the best choices you could with what you had. No one can fault you for that."

"I can." My words were soft, barely a whisper at the edge of his damaged hearing.

"But I can't. If you can't believe in yourself, just remember that."

"How could you believe in someone so weak?"

"The only measure of inner weakness is when you give up. You've never given in. Even in the face of death and worse, you fought so you could meet the end with teeth bared."

"It's not like I had much of a choice." I grumbled.

"Fate seldom gives out such luxuries." A sigh bled from the old man while his tone softened. "How many times have we done this? Fighting never makes us happy. Just know that you are loved, little princess of mine."

"I know. Sorry I had to unpack all this on you."

"It's no fault of yours that fate is so cruel. No one could ever blame you for surviving the trials placed in your way."

"Thank you, for everything." I offered, and Boomer leaned in for another gentle hug. "You reek, old man."

"We all have our faults." He said over my shoulder before breaking apart once more. "Just wish I was a better talker."

"Just being able to talk to you helps more than you know, regardless of what you say."

* * *

One detailed physical from the Stalking Shadow's latest addition later, I was approved for light duties. While I quite literally trusted Frank and Gerald with my life every time I came back to the Shadow banged up and worse for wear, having another woman size up my various injuries while I was practically naked was a lot less awkward. I couldn't tell if Candy would be a long-term addition, but I sincerely hoped she would. Medical mercs were few and far between; even rarer were those of the fairer sex.

I dressed in my usual black-on-grey cargo pants and long-sleeved shirt. All the injuries marring my overly-pale skin disappear under the concealing cloth aside from my exposed hands, face and the purpling bruises around my throat. My voluminous silver hair went in a lazy ponytail and I left the Shadow's tiny recovery room.

The medbay wasn't all that much more spacious. Two beds, floor-to-ceiling cupboards and barely enough room for three people to walk beside each other. Nye was dozing on one bed, all in one piece under her blanket. Even to my untrained eye, she looked good. She'd live. In the other bed, Shores looked like too much meat stuffed in not enough skin. Or he did until Frank finished changing the moist wraps that covered Shores head to toe. After that, he looked like a corpse ready to get tossed in a recycler.

"Where's Diaz?" I asked, focusing on real damages instead of imagined ones.

Frank grunted something around the unlit cigarette in his lips and pointed to the room's attached surgery. I slipped away from the stable casualties to find Jhordan standing vigil over Diaz while Candy finished checking the attached machinery keeping what was left of him alive.

"Another beauty come to kiss her sleeping prince?" Candy asked.

"How is he?"

"Not dead is the only answer I can give you. The next check is in an hour. Keep an eye on him." With that, Candy left.

"I didn't actually think I'd see him again." I eventually said.

"He was muttering a few hours ago," Jhordan said. "He kept saying 'promise.'"

Jhordan was fiddling with something shiny in her proportionally massive hands. When she noticed me looking, she handed it over.

"They found it in his pocket, but I can't read it." She admitted.

It was a gold star, some kind of badge or medal based on the design. I found the etched letters she was talking about and couldn't stop myself from bitterly smiling.

"Trotzig. It means defiant or contrary. It's perfect." I handed it back to Jhordan with a nod. "For either of you."

Jhordan puffed her nose, and I saw a flash of teeth. It wasn't her go-to ditsy party-girl smile; instead, it was solemnly sad. Almost as sad as the tears in her eyes that refused to fall. It was nothing short of magic that a woman nearly forty centimeters taller than me could look so damned small as she towered there beside me. I turned my attention back to what was left of Diaz. In his current state, maybe death would have been a kindness.

I lingered there long enough for Candy to come and go again before I realized how tired I was and that I still had things to take care of. I leaned in close enough to give the not-dead man a kiss if I wanted and whispered in his less damaged ear.

"You can't protect us if you die. So come back to us, you gloomy little shit."

He didn't magically wake up. He didn't even stir. But he wasn't dead yet, which meant there was hope— even if there wasn't much. I departed the surgery, leaving what was left of Diaz and his stony-faced sentinel to their privacy.

I followed the clangs and bangs to the Shadow's helm. The Captain oversaw a work detail of the crew's more technically inclined members as they connected Ghost to the ship. Gidget was the only one in the crowd that seemed particularly enthused by this task. Still, no one seemed openly hostile aside from Aivery— but that was probably just her resting insufferable cunt face. I managed a crumby salute across my chest with my broken hand, the Captain countered with his crisp naval drill.

"The rest of you, out. I'll call you back in when we're finished here." He said with his ancient, gravelly voice. His orders were obeyed without question.

"I see we're keeping him." The Captain read me without effort.

"I've had a few complaints, but no one's talking about mutiny after the 'rumors' from your mission made the rounds."

"Tony?"

"Tony." The Captain nodded.

"Let's hope it's just the good stuff then."

"Nothing but the best. But pleasantries will need to wait until after your debriefing."

The Captain offered, so I graciously took a seat— idly noting that we were under light thrust breaking clear of Nothing Wasted. I gave the Captain the whole story, even the parts that would have gotten me thrown in a padded cell somewhere civilized or out an airlock anywhere else. The Captain sat through it all without a word, though his subtle ticks indicated he wanted a smoke, and by the end, I think he wanted a gun. For him, me or both of us, I couldn't tell.

"So what comes next, sir?"

"The locals are none too happy with us, but cooler heads recognized that further hostilities are in no ones best interest. They agreed to cut off the tainted section of their station and slag it. The only hard proof of anything untoward are vapors on the float. They resupplied us enough that we'll make it to the next star over without issue, but from there, we're on our own."

"Probably for the best." I nodded. "And, my team?"

"We'll make them whole, body and bank. I've already provided a combat bonus plus the usual damages to the members of your team. Once we're out-system, we'll be transferring our severely wounded to the Blissful Shade when our paths next cross. If they want to stay on, we'll get them back in fighting shape; otherwise, we'll drop them off anywhere they'd like."

"Anything else from me, sir?"

"Despite what you may think, you performed your duties admirably. You survived your trial by fire, kept your team alive against the odds and completed your mission objective. There are no guarantees in life, except death. It's not an easy thing, leading others. It's a terrible burden, the ultimate privilege and the ultimate responsibility."

"With all due respect, sir, I never want to do that again."

"I'll take that into consideration, but the future rarely cares what we want. Like it or not, you've proven that you can plan and prepare, adapt on the fly, keep your judgment under fire and get results. Whether you want it or not, you have the aptitude. None of us are getting any younger." The Captain's brows furrowed ever so slightly as he finished.

"Sir?"

"I've heard what I needed too for now. Unless you have anything to add, you're free to go."

"You didn't seem very surprised when I told you about, that thing." I noted.

"I've had a few days to get comfortable with the idea that stranger forces then men were aligned against you. Call me a fool, but I trust you and those purple eyes of yours."

"My eyes should be red in this light." I dumbly stated. "Like a thick, polished ruby."

The Captain's crow's feet crinkled almost imperceptibly, amused but not enough to openly show it. The sinking feeling in my stomach told me I wouldn't enjoy the Captain following words.

"I've been told they haven't been red since you returned to the Shadow."

I blinked mutely while I processed what he'd just said. My eyes were only violet in unfiltered sunlight, something to do with the pigments being semi-reflective to ultra-violet. I was tempted to ask more about it, but there was a faster way to get answers. I stood, exchanged salutes with the Captain and practically bolted from the helm.

I was at my cabin door in no time, six square meters of all mine for the past decade and change. Yet despite spending over a third of my life here, my room wasn't filled with excess like some people's. The only creature comforts I'd added were a set of weighty plush blankets and a dim yellow overhead light that was easy on the eyes. I snatched up my backup compact mirror, steeled my nerves before I opened it and stared wide-eyed at my own strange face. I'd already been expecting the cuts, bruises and barely straightened bedhead; it was all par for the course in this line of work.

But the eyes staring back at me weren't mine. The red color I should have seen was replaced by a vibrant purple as richly saturated as it was dark. The wrong-colored irises were too big, dominating half of each eyeball. I couldn't see a single vein in the sparse whites of those strange orbs. Every errant twitch had the color swirling in the mirror, a royal vortex drawing everything to the black pupils at its center. The violet shade was so impossibly deep that it spread into my enhanced visual spectrum too.

I clamped the mirror shut and collapsed on my bunk, lightheaded. Once my cozy cabin stopped spinning around me, I held up the mirror and looked again. I half-remembered a saying about staring into the void when I met those eyes again. The cosmos swirled back at me from my reflection until I closed the mirror again and watched my own trembling hand.

My pale digits were hardly moving, but I saw the shimmering afterimages as if by a trick of the light. I flicked off my cabin's overhead and observed the bleeding heat of my bare hand in infrared, yet still, the mirage persisted. Then in the absence of light, I saw something else too.

A thin shell of fae quasi-energy wrapped my hand along with my entire body. Once I'd tuned my eyes and mind into it, the layer solidified under my gaze, and I felt it. Like the light of a star on naked skin, only instead of burning me, it felt reassuring. It felt like me mixed with shades of golden green.

I watched the not-light for a time. It wasn't just my body heat radiating off of me. The more I focused and stared at it, the more I could almost sense it beyond any mundane perceptions, in a way I had no reference for. While I racked my brain for something to put this quasi-energy into perspective with, Talfryn's lecture came to mind. Essence. My very soul. Energy programed by the mind.

"My aura." I whispered, feeling a shiver run up my spine in response.

The next words that came to mind were entirely my own.

"Aw hell."