The Black

The trip home to Delmar was a long one, and the threat of intercept forced them to stay in subspace for the duration. It had taken the first three weeks for Lyrian to begin to act like her old self. Silu had pulled her from the Con the moment they jumped out of Argorania, putting her on light duty until their arrival. Mac had desperately wanted to do something, but Doc had to explain to him that she needed to do this on her own.

“Just be near her my boy. And be calm. Be her roots for now.” Was all he had said.

Their routine stayed the same. Morning exercise, then breakfast, Mac found that she relaxed a little more when his uncle’s jazz collection stumbled into the music shuffle. He had sorted out a playlist and left it on repeat.

By the second week, the nightmares subsided for her. That was a blessing as the accompanying emotions tended to wake him up. It turns out that Delmar did not wake up from nightmares like humans can, and night terrors were not a thing either. Mac instead just had to lay there, awakened by the emotional Hurricane howling through their bond. He could do little, as she fought her demons. He had taken to gently stroking her hair and mane while she twitched and whimpered laying against his side; often with her head on his chest; trying to push calm through their bind until he felt her emotions stabilized and the nightmare faded.

He had once again asked Doc if there was anything to be done.

“Mac, you must look at it from our point of view.” He had responded gently, “You are a warrior of a species forged in a world of death and turmoil. You personally were tempered by the wrath of a war that almost ended your kind. My daughter is going through what many of my people experience upon their first brushes with such violence. While we are…. capable…. of violence, it is a learned behavior. It does not come as instinctual for us. When I was much younger, I was a ‘medic’ I guess you could call it for our ground forces. I have seen this many times after an untested unit had a particularly difficult blooding. You are doing the right things. She will return to us, in time.”

The beginning of week four started like any other. Max had taken to walking around the ship in his weighted vest on top of his void suit during the day. He spent the afternoon in the astrometric chart room. With Marge and some of her subordinates comparing notes. He swung by the mess to pick up dinner for Lyri and himself.

When he got home, Lyri was in the bed napping as he set the two trays on the desk,

“Hey babe, dinners here.” He could feel her stir. ‘No nightmares, good’

“You want to listen to..” he was interrupted as he was turned around by Lyrian, and her lips reached for his. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into her kiss, then moved her lips to his neck and ran her fangs across his skin. He felt her fire through their bond.

She bit him just under the chin. Not enough to draw blood. But it was no nip.

“I want what’s mine” she growled, letting go of his skin, placing her lips on his neck and letting out that resonant hum of hers that he had come to crave. “Now” she whispered into his soul.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Silu was enjoying a glass of Delmar brandy alone in his office. He was currently watching a message from his wife showing off his two newest grand babies with a beaming mother in tow. A digital chirp had him pause the video as a message on the ships alert line popped up… ‘Captains work is never done’ His brow furrowed as he opened the alert then erupted in a deep laugh. It was a cathartic feeling, and Silu let this belly laugh run its course. It purged his soul of the stress of the last few month’s events.

Finally containing himself, he flicked his console over to the refit list and schedule. Sliding over to the interiors tab; he added an entry.

Couples Berth 343- install sound proofing.

A low chuckle escaped him as saved and closed the file.

He picked up his beverage and went back to watching his grand babies burble into the camera…

——————————————————————

It was the early morning hours, and Mac was on his back staring at the ceiling, tracing circles into the down soft streak of mane that all Delmar had running from their hair to the tip of their tail. The one he was currently playing with belonged to someone priceless, but she was different somehow. She was definitely still his Lyrian; of that there was no doubt. She had always been playfully possessive, but this time she had been.. aggressive. She Still playful, but she definitely was more intense in some ways. ‘Maybe this is what Doc talked about’. Mac was fine with that, he was no wilting flower in that regard either.

“Hmmmmm that tickles” she coo’d from his shoulder.

He felt a guilty spark; he knew he had awoken her. “Well hi there,” he whispered back, kissing her on the nose. “That was…. Exciting” he offered.

She slowly pushed away from him shifting to lay partially on-top of him diagonally to look into his face, “I want to see Earth” she used Terra’s ancient name carefully.

“Huh?” Mac offered, sitting up until she crawled into his lap still facing him.

“I want to see Earth.” She repeated, “with my own eyes” She lowered her voice dramatically at that last part.

Mac barked a laugh, "Im soooo glad I convinced you to do movie nights". Then he looked into her eyes for a second, “what brought this on?” He asked after a moment.

She pulled back off his lap and sat cross legged in front of him, “I’ve only heard bits in passing. From you, from Da’, from Uncle Silu. You plan on trying to message your home, to see if there is a way home.” She said finally, “I want you to take me with you.”

A wave of realization swept over Mac, “Ah, you’re close, but that’s not why I want to contact Terra” he said.

“Then why?” Her confusion bled through voice and bond.

Mac spent the next hour explaining his plan to her. Pulling her into his lap about half way through so she could use his chest as a backrest. “So, you are trying to prevent a war.” she said finally, “at least an extinction level one.”

“Yea,” he said simply, “I know my people…Surprise, especially coated in death, breeds over reaction. Even in me.”

She turned to Sit sideways. If he was standing, she would be in a bridal carry.

“You?”

Mac sighed, “I have never told you many personal stories from Terra. It’s because almost all of them are stained in blood. They make up the events that pushed me to a dark place... a place where I became a killer, a hunter of other humans in the Black of my home solar system.”

She felt his grief, his shame. She did not shy away; and cupped the back of his head with both hands and looked up at him, “tell me, I need to see you”.

Mac started with his childhood. His father was a shipwright for Macdonald Douglas’ Interstellar division. He oversaw their Galveston Bay module construction facilities. This facility had started constructing modules for the Terran navy when the Great Sol War began. His fathers oversaw final assembly of each module before it was sent to orbit to become part of a Terran warship.

“I was on a school trip north of Huston, when It happened. Mars had launched the first of its ‘Rod from God’ attacks. Basically, take a 20 metric ton concrete and steel shaft and destabilize from its orbit around my system’s Star, Sol. If you do enough of the math right, and there is a lot of it, you can hit anything on the way down. Mars had done their math. And that cursed pillar slammed into the shipping channel with all the speed it built up from an almost 380 million ‘kilometer’ drop towards Sol. Everything south of the Astros stadium in down town Houston was simply gone. The tidal wave killed thousands more in Florida and the Caribbean. In one flash of light, my entire family, and most of my friends evaporated in a mushroom cloud I watched rise into the atmosphere.”

Tears began trickling down Lyrians face as Mac continued. He explained that Clint had been on the same field trip, on the same buss. His Uncle Martin had taken an emergency leave, instantly making himself the guardian of his devastated Nephew and the devastated boy’s best friend. Martin and his wife Gwen had moved the boys into their home in Johnson City Tennesee.

Aunt Gwen, also an officer in the Terran Navy had resigned her commission as Commodore to take care of the boys while Martin stayed as the admiral of the Terran home fleet. Mars had claimed to be targeting military infrastructure instillations only… but they had been separated from Terra to long, forgetting how densely populated the planet was compared to their sporadic domed society. The war had been going on for years, but this was the first attack that had reached the surface of either Terra or Mars. The collateral damage united Terra, as the population collectively Bayed for retribution.

A Year later, no one batted an eye when two kids, barely over 17, showed up at the Deep Space Naval Combat training facility with a letter from an Admiral granting them the appropriate wavers. 8 years later those two boys were war heroes of a selective group of the space born “silent service”. The manor at which these elite crews fought, lived, and died had taken them to the hearts of both submariner community who roamed Terra’s oceans still, and the fighter/star-fighter community that had been a military staple for generations.

“We were broken boys, taught to be killers, who turned into war hero’s.. but we are…” Mac took a shuddering deep breath, “…I am… still that broken little boy. I bare the blood of thousands of my own species… people I personally pulled the trigger on… on my hands. I know Humanity, we are not United in most things, but when… not if.. when, we make it to the greater galaxy. …If we are ambushed….surprised into provocation… murdered without reason… we will wage war.. and it is not a war I want to see you, or anyone else out here experience. I have lived it.. at times I have rejoiced in it… worshipped it even….I have stared into the Black long enough to catch its gaze, dare it to come for me, and laugh at its failure. That is who you claimed… a broken angry child turned soulless Demon of the Black” he spat the name he learned UGN intelligence had given him. his words finally failed him as his shoulders slumped. He had not dared to think about such things since the Armistice. Mac looked down at his own hands, emotionally spent.

Lyrian felt his surprise as she took those same hands in hers, sliding out of his lap to face him as he looked at her face searching. “I am yours, still.” she whispered, “We do this together. I will help you prepare your people for the galaxy. I’ll be your soul. You will be my strength. You will prepare me for Earth. Because your soul will follow you, even there.” she pulled his hands to either side and buried his head in her chest, “I think I’m going to need a vest.”

“I guess so” he whispered, sagging into her as she laid them both back down. She kept his head on her chest and just stroked his hair until they both were awoken by their morning alarms..

—————————————————————

Doc Icario had protested the vest, only giving way when both of them promised to let him do monthly physicals on his daughter as she built herself up to withstand Mac’s home world.

Two weeks before they reached Delmar, Lyrian began her training. They were deliberate and cautious. Lyrian had to make it to 10k after double her usual calisthenics. Doc had told them about Lyrian’s body’s reaction to the G’s and to being brought to the brink of failure but not crossing it. So that’s what they did. They both weekly trained to failure, but not injury, with more normal daily exercises throughout the week and a day of rest after failure day. Mac had reduced the gravity in their living space back to Delmar standard when Lyri had moved in. Once she made it to 10k, they would start gradually increasing the room’s gravity with earth 1G being the goal.

Lyrian made it to 10k for the first time, the day before Traveler arrived home. She flopped down on the floor of the Rec room after a quick cool down walk. That same slightly crazed giggling laugh from her first flight in Concord escaped her as she heaved for air.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clint 'Nitro' Stevens walked into the Flagg Office of Houston Station, "Lieutenant Clint Stevens reporting as ordered" he snapped a salute off captain who received him.

"This way please Lieutenant" he responded before leading them into the Commanders Office.

the man smartly opened the door, "Lieutenant Stevens to see you Admiral." he stated.

"Come!" the Admiral replied. 'That's not the commander' Clint recognized that voice.

Clint walked in and snapped his spine straight, "Reporting as ordered, Admiral" he barked out.

"That will be all Wikkerson," the admiral waved away the Captain, who saluted and turned, closing the door behind him.

"Admiral?" Clint offered.

"Oh, cut the Shit, Nitro, and give your Aunt Gwen a hug," Admiral Gwen Mackenzie Trenton, the wife of the late Martin James Trenton was a towering silver haired Titan of a Scott. She stood 6ft 6in tall and had won several Highland Games in her youth. She had become an American by marriage to Martin and had lost most of her accent, but the old ways still burned brightly in some respects. She was also the one who started the boy’s Gym addictions. Martin had always gone to keep his health, but Aunt Gwen and the boys had a fire for it that he lacked. She was no longer in competitive form, but no less cut a striking figure in her Uniform.

"So.. I guess I'm not in trouble?" Cling offered, finally breaking free of His Aunt. She grinned at him.

"Oh no M'boy, you got caught. You always had a good head for analysis. It’s what kept you and Jamie alive more than once." She said as they both sat down next to the desk. Admiral Gwen refused to stand on ceremony any more than necessary with her adopted boys.

"That's where I come in," She said. Then his eyes widened as she switched to Scott’s Gaelic, " Tha mi a’ smaoineachadh gun do lorg thu rudeigin. Agus 'tha mi 'g iarraidh ort an t-sreang ud a tharruing, fo mo chead. (I think you found something, and I want you to pull on that string, under my permission.)"

" Taigh-Solais, tha fios agam Ma' (Lighthouse, I ken Ma’)." Clint responded in Gaelic, " Mar sin tha thu a’ smaoineachadh nach b’ ann air thuaiream a bha an àrdachadh ann am fuaim (So you think that uptick in noise wasn't random)."

"No" She said, speaking in English once more, "I don't. I want you to find out" then she slapped his leg, "So! How do'you fancy working for your Auntie one more time!"

"Aye, Admiral. I'm in." Smiled Clint.