Bightmares: Deep Space Mission Corps, #2

ONE

THEN…

From the safety of the hallway, the young boy peeked around the corner and stared at his mother as she sat on their sofa. Tears streamed down her face. She shook her head and looked up at the two officials from the joint tribunal who had arrived a little earlier to talk to her. She’d sent him to his room, but he hid around the corner, listening as they introduced themselves, one from the Merchant Marines and one from the Interstellar Naval Corps.

He wondered if the Merchant Marine officer knew his father.

No. I don’t believe it! she screamed. He wouldn’t do anything like that! It’s a lie!

I’m sorry, ma’am, the Merchant Marine officer softly apologized. I brought a copy of the report and official findings with me. We also have copies of the videos from the proceedings. I’m sorry.

My husband was a good man, a decent man!

The ISNC officer, a chaplain, knelt in front of her. Would you like me to set up counseling sessions for you and your son?

She sneered at him. Someone tells horrible lies about my husband, gets him killed, and you want me and Jamie to get counseling? She pushed him away as she stood and paced the living room floor. I want someone’s head for this!

A couple of weeks later, Jamie stood by his Uncle Bill as they waited for the transport shuttle to arrive. His uncle didn’t say much. So far, nothing he’d said had been right. A career Interstellar Naval Corps military man, he wasn’t used to dealing with children.

I already filed the paperwork to change your last name, he said. I don’t want you associated with that man. You deserve better than that. Too bad your mother didn’t see the truth about him years ago. He looked down at his young nephew, who’d just turned six. He certainly wasn’t worth her killing herself over.

The night she died, Jamie’s mother’s last words to him when she tucked him into bed were to extract a promise from her young son.

Retribution. He was a good man, Jamie, she’d said as she kissed him goodnight for what would turn out to be the very last time. Promise me you’ll do right by him. Restore his name. Make them pay. Make all of them pay.

Young Jamie Candling didn’t know who his mom meant, but he promised. Yes, Momma.

Good. Remember, I love you. And don’t ever trust anyone. People will stab you in the back to get what they want.

Then she didn’t wake up the next morning. Every time he tried to rouse her, she laid there, her eyes half-open and her skin a horrible color, her lips parted like she was about to speak.

When he’d touched her cheek, it felt cool and firm, not soft and warm.

Finally, he walked across the hall and asked Mrs. Blackman, the woman who sometimes babysat him, to come help him wake her.

Now, two weeks later, his mother’s brother was taking him home to live with him. To the Ganymede colony, where Bill Eckhart was some bigwig with the ISNC.

Jamie didn’t get to say good-bye to his mother again. They didn’t have a funeral, and his uncle had her cremated and spread her ashes in space.

He looked up at his uncle when the man sighed. Your mom always was a sad woman, he said. She didn’t want to believe the truth even when it slapped her in the face, sitting there in black and white and supported by facts and evidence. He looked down at his nephew. You need to forget your father ever existed. He didn’t do anything but cause your mother and this family pain. His face darkened even more. Not to mention the other innocent people he hurt.

But Momma said he was a good man?

His uncle snorted. No. He wasn’t. Your mother lied to herself as much as she lied to you. And I’m certain your father lied plenty to her, too. He looked down at him. I’m sorry to sound so cold, but the universe is cold. The only tragedy in this entire mess is that your father didn’t die sooner. If he had, innocent lives would have been spared.

Momma said they lied about him.

The man sighed. You’re too young to understand this right now. But you will when you’re older. Just…forget about him, okay? You barely knew him, right? From now on, I’m your father, if you want to call me that instead of ‘uncle.’ I’ll make sure you go to the best schools and have everything you need to go on and be a truly good man—the kind of man your father wasn’t capable of being.

But Jamie couldn’t—wouldn’t—forget his promise. He simply nodded, because he didn’t want to lie.

He didn’t really remember his dad, because he’d been gone in space for so long. Almost everything he knew about his father came from pictures and his mother’s glowing words and stories about him.

You have a chance for a new start before you can be hurt by him or his dark legacy, Uncle Bill said. "I’ll help you make the most of it. That much I can promise. If you really want to honor your mother’s memory, do that."

Jamie nodded again but didn’t speak.

NOW…

From the personnel files of Dr. Louis Graymard, Deep Space Mission Corps Chief Personnel Acquisitions Officer.

Crew Pairing Summary

Date: March 2, 2670

File #20-8630

Ship: DSMC Vessel Tamora Bight

Debarking Base: New Phoenix, Arizona, Earth

Crew: Captain Aaron Lucio; First Officer Caphis Bates; Mate Ford Caliban; Medical Officer Dr. Emilia Hypatia

The Tamora Bight lifts from the New Phoenix base tomorrow with a complete four-pack crew. While they were initially upset about the introductory simulation testing scenario, the crew pairing has gone even better than expected. Dr. Hypatia is, as I thought she would be, the perfect complement for Captain Lucio and his crew. That she is a trained class two empath, in addition to her psychology degree and Alpha-ranked healer status, is very fortunate.

Individual assessments of the men have revealed marked improvement in their emotional health since pairing Dr. Hypatia with them. The men all fell in love with her, and she with them, and they formed a plural marriage in addition to their bonded crew status. It gives me great confidence that we will most likely have them as Deep Space Mission Corps personnel for many years to come…

With no way to change the nightmare, it vividly repeated in Aaron Lucio’s mind as it had played out in real life.

On the surface of the uninhabited planet, the raiders were lying in wait for them. The look of fear on Kels’ face as her eyes met his.

One more, Captain, the raider leader said as he leveled his plasma pistol at Captain Candling. One more or you all die.

Without thinking, without pulling his gaze from Kels, Aaron stepped forward. Me. Take me.

Behind him, Rawley and First Officer Allen of the Wayfarer Margo protested. Leave her, Allen said. Take me instead! I’m worth more ransom.

One of the raiders shoved Aaron next to Kels. She reached for his hand, and their fingers laced together. He gently squeezed, trying to reassure her despite his own fear they might not survive.

Captain Anderson Candling stood there with a smirk on his face. You have your two. Now leave.

Sir, Allen protested. You can’t let them take them! You and me, we’ll go—

No. He volunteered, let him go with her. Why risk our lives?

Rawley and Allen took a step toward the raiders, but Candling overruled them. Let them take them. That’s an order. Candling looked at the raider leader. You’ve got what you want. Get out of here—

Aaron startled awake when Emi rolled over in her sleep, away from him and toward where Caph slept on her other side. The sweet scent of her shampoo filled his lungs, anchoring him to reality. He stared at the cabin ceiling as his pulse slowed, his body bathed in sweat. He wasn’t standing on the planet’s surface. He wasn’t being betrayed by his captain.

Kels wasn’t about to die. Again.

He lay safe in his own bed, with his husbands and wife, in their shared crew quarters on the Tamora Bight.

Another fucking nightmare.

They didn’t come as often as they once had. This was the first he’d had in over a year, the first since they’d met Emi. Fortunately, tonight he didn’t have to live through the worst of it, the torture the raiders put him through.

Or Kels’ death.

He looked to his other side. Ford lay there, his blue eyes open and staring at him, a worried look on his face. Ford always knew when he had a nightmare. Too many times over the years, Ford had proved his sole link to sanity.

You okay, Cap? Ford asked.

Aaron nodded.

You haven’t had one of those in a long time.

He nodded again.

Ford lifted his head so he could see Emi. She still slept soundly on Aaron’s other side, curled against Caph. They didn’t have to get up for several hours yet. Ford shifted position so he could slip his arms around Aaron. The other man closed his eyes, rested his head against Ford’s chest, and silently wept.

Ford twined his fingers through Aaron’s hair and tightly held him. I’m here, Ford whispered in his ear. It’s okay. Just another bad dream. I’ve got you. You’re safe.

I hate those fucking dreams! Why are they starting again? Why won’t they go away?

It’s okay, Ford softly soothed. You’re okay. Go back to sleep, Aar. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.

Safe in his husband’s arms, with Ford’s heartbeat soft in his ear as he kept his face pressed against his chest, that’s what Aaron finally did.

TWO

Dr. Emilia Hypatia stared at the front vid screens as Earth slowly slid away, the New Phoenix desert shrinking beneath them as their altitude increased.

She swallowed hard, her stomach a bundle of nerves. The simulator experience hadn’t prepared her for this. Not at all. Three hours after the actual lift process had started, her initial excitement to be heading into space for the first time waned, and she felt…

Sick.

Literally.

Caph started to say something, but she didn’t hear him. She was too busy bolting for the bridge head. As she knelt beside the bowl and retched, she sensed Caph’s large, comforting presence push inside the tiny room with her. His hands gently gathered her hair at the nape of her neck to hold it out of her way.

It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll get over it soon.

She shook her head, her eyes tightly squeezed shut as another round of nausea hit. Thank the gods for the crew compatibility chips. Besides guaranteeing fidelity amongst the crew and protecting against forced sexual situations, they also acted as foolproof birth control.

Otherwise, Emi might suspect something else. Especially considering how much time she’d spent in bed with one or more of her men over the past several months.

How is she? Ford’s voice drifted to them from his place at the console.

She felt Caph lean away from her, outside the door. She’ll be okay in a minute. You know how it is.

Emi tightly gripped the toilet and held on. Even through her nausea, she sensed Caph and the other men knew exactly why she felt sick. What’s wrong with me? she managed, spitting into the bowl.

She heard water run, and then Caph pressed a wet washcloth against her hand. She took it and wiped her face.

Nerves, along with a heaping dose of space sickness. It’ll pass. Some people are way more sensitive than others to it. Since you’re an empath, it makes sense it’d hit you really hard.

I didn’t feel like this in the simulation. She’d felt a lot of things in the original simulation, a surprise four-hour session when she first applied for a position with the Deep Space Mission Corps. All four of them went through it, making them think they’d spent a year together instead of four hours inside a sim unit. She knew a little about space sickness but had never experienced it before.

Because in real life, she’d never been in space before now.

Caph tenderly stroked her shoulders with his large hands. While the tallest, largest, and beefiest of the three men, he wasn’t muscle-bound. His broad shoulders and chest tapered into a narrow waist and gorgeously tight ass. Even bigger than his body was his fragile, sensitive heart.

You can’t sim this, baby. I felt sick for a week my first time out. It’s something to do with the grav plate system, I think. Some people don’t get sick at all, some people fight it for a couple of weeks. You’ll be okay once you adjust to it.

She felt Aaron’s presence, and then heard his voice outside the head door. I made her some ginger tea, Caph.

Thanks, Aar. Caph helped her stand. She washed her face before rinsing her mouth and spitting again. When the lift process had started a few hours earlier, she’d eagerly anticipated leaving Earth for the first time, spending a minimum of five years on this vessel—and a whole lifetime with her men.

Her husbands.

She turned to Caph. His brilliant green gaze pierced right through her. You all right, Emi? he asked.

I’ll be okay. Another bout of nausea threatened. I don’t think I’ll stray too far from a head, though.

Caph stepped out and let her move past him. She gratefully took the offered steaming mug of tea from Aaron. His deep brown gaze studied her, his brow furrowed, expression full of concern.

You sure you’re okay, Em? Aaron asked.

She sipped. He’d added just enough sugar to cut the bitterness. I’ll live. I’ll go to sick bay and do a little self-medicating.

Ford snorted from his seat at the console. Good luck with that, sugar. Usually the anti-nausea meds don’t work against space sickness.

She frowned. Okay, so admittedly she hadn’t researched space medicine very thoroughly. Dr. Graymard had told her not to worry about it. He’d said what little she needed to know in addition to her already extensive Earth-based knowledge, she could easily bone up on during their mission. She’d been too busy focusing on learning her non-medical duties on board the enormous ship.

Not to mention she’d been very busy boinking her brains out.

Why don’t the anti-nausea meds work? she asked.

Ford shrugged. I don’t know. You’re the doc. His blue eyes playfully twinkled. A few inches taller than her own five-seven, Ford stood the shortest and slimmest of the three men. Dark hair, trimly built, and athletically muscled, his movements possessed a svelte, catlike grace.

He was also their resident motormouth.

She glared at him while taking another sip of tea. You’re a smart-ass, Ford.

You should know. You’ve examined it. He playfully batted his eyes at her.

She rolled her eyes as Caph laughed. Even Aaron smiled. That’s enough, Ford, Aaron said. Don’t bust her balls too much on her first lift. If I remember correctly, you spent a lot of time hugging the head on our very first trip off this rock.

Ford snorted. Don’t remind me.

Aaron gently guided her to her console seat. Sit here for a minute while you finish that. It’ll help. It’s a natural anti-nausea remedy.

Her stomach did feel marginally better. Why didn’t you guys warn me about this?

Caph shrugged his massive shoulders. Sorry, babe. Didn’t think about it. We’ve been doing this for twenty years, remember? It’s old hat to us. I haven’t felt space sick in a long time.

Ford turned from his console. After you finish that tea, I’ll go put you to bed.

Sorry, no offense, but I don’t think I’m in the mood. Her stomach took another dangerous lurch, barely righting itself in time. In fact, I know I’m not.

Ford rolled his eyes and smiled. "Honey, I didn’t say I would take you to bed, did I? I said put you to bed. I’ve got an awesome chicken soup recipe that will help keep your tummy settled."

The very thought of eating nearly made her puke again. I’m not sure I can tolerate that right now.

You can’t keep dry heaving, Ford countered. You have to put something in there to come back up. Dry heaves are the worst. Trust me on this one. Not to mention we don’t want you to get dehydrated. That makes space sickness that much worse.

Aaron settled into his command seat. "It’s okay, Em. We’ll let you know before we get to the orbital hub so