Love and War
Outpost 23
Luna fussed with her hair for the hundredth time. The pair of diminutive silver barrettes she’d snagged at Al’s Emporium functioned to hold the strands out of her face, but old habits die hard. Distracted, she stepped backward and almost knocked over a display of Omarite healing crystals. Under normal circumstances, she was careful to a fault, but stress wracked her nerves. If her half-baked plan was to succeed, this had to be perfect.
She gulped at the air, attempting to steady herself. The scent from xanfidiles and grespids that she carried left her dizzy. She hoped Astor would enjoy them. She swallowed her remaining doubts and marched the last meters into Grodia’s Bar.
Flagging the first server she encountered, she asked, “Excuse me, but where is Astor’s section today?”
The Paladaxian girl scoffed at the flowers, the inky spots on her cheeks becoming more pronounced as her frustration ignited. “She has no desire to associate with you.”
“Please,” she begged, “let me talk to her.”
She rolled her yellow eyes and pointed to a corner. “She’s working over there, but she won’t come out once she finds out you’re here,” she warned.
“Thank you,” she gushed. “I need a chance to make things right.”
“Good luck with that,” the Paladaxian waitress chided.
Luna wove between the packed chairs and wound a path across the room. She chose a secluded spot with a view of the service hallway, where she planned to clandestinely observe the activities of the staff. Sitting with the bouquet on her lap, she waited several minutes, but nobody came to take her order. Her attention wandered around the joint. Servers attended the other customers but ignored her.
Half an hour passed before a burly waiter stomped toward her. “Look,” he demanded, “are you ordering or not?”
“Well,” she stammered, “I came to give these to Astor….”
“She’s not coming over.” He thrust his hands on his hips, making his shoulders bigger and more imposing.
“I can be persistent,” she insisted. Then she spotted Astor behind him, sneaking to another table because she hoped the distraction held her attention. She waved and called out.
Uberwaiter positioned himself squarely in front of her. “Don’t. She’s at work. Don’t make a scene. If you’re here to drink, tell me what you want. If you’re not, leave.”
She sighed. “I’ll have an Outposter,” she relented.
“Great,” he replied tonelessly, and turned on his heel.
Slumping into the booth, she pouted until her succor arrived, and then she used the decorative swizzle stick to mix her melancholy into an orange liquid too watery to improve her mood.
She’d guzzled half the concoction when she caught sight of the glowing nebula of Astor’s golden tresses, as she vacillated between two tables. She progressed to a third customer several spaces away. Either she’d traded sections with someone because she learned of her arrival, or the first waitress had lied. She blinked back the sting and bit her lip. For a moment, she contemplated leaving; she had meant to lift her spirits, not cause her any discomfort. But then, she glanced in her direction, their eyes locked, and regardless of the distance, those sapphire magnetars drew her in. Did she detect the faintest smile? Her resolve deepened; she wasn’t going anywhere.
Her glass sat empty for twenty minutes before a random server she’d never seen dropped off a fresh drink without saying a word. At least this one was stronger. Her head swam. The smell from the xanfidiles didn’t help, and they drew sidelong glances from patrons who must wonder what she was doing by herself with such an ornate gift.
At a quarter to midnight, after she was well into her third round and tipsy, Astor stormed up to her. Fists thrust onto her hips, she boomed, “What’s so important?”
“Hey, baby,” she slurred. “Been waitin’ for ya all night. These’er for you.” The grespids hung low, their fibrous outer layers already darkened, but the heartier xanfidiles’ single golden petals still twinkled. She brandished them aloft anyway. “’Kay, I swear they were the same pink as the one from the Beluvian restaurant, but I doubt you’d recognize them now. Ya said it’s your favorite color.”
She eyed the bouquet. “Put them in water and they’ll be fine.”
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Luna leaned in for a hug as her emotions got the better of her. “I never meant to hurt you. I always knew you were innocent.”
“Damnit, please don’t do this in public.” Her practiced veneer cracked. She motioned her out of the booth. “Come on. Let’s get those in a vase.”
She clamored to her feet and presented her with the deflated blossoms. Her lips twisted involuntarily as she accepted them. Then Luna offered her an arm.
Astor raised her hand, full stop. “Let’s stick with these, for now. We’ll deal with the rest of it at my place.”
With that, she stormed off, leaving Luna to traipse after her the way love-sick jaffocklars wandered the swamps of Antonmire. Expertly weaving through the crowd of bodies in the bar, Astor was six steps ahead by the time Luna stumbled to the entrance and didn’t wait for her to catch up. She crossed the court at record speed and was on a lift so fast; she was lucky she made it before the doors closed, and it zipped off for the habitat ring.
The ride passed in silence. Astor wouldn’t glance at her. Under the circumstances, Luna didn’t have the balls to speak. She stared at her shoes to maintain her composure and focus on her efforts for the argument she had coming.
Inside the familiar quarters, Astor ignored her while she retrieved a vase from the kitchen and filled it with salt water. The troublesome grespids perked up as soon as their spiraled stems hit the liquid. She took her time arranging the flowers as she stood beside the sofa, shuffling her feet, not sure if she should sit or if it was advantageous to remain standing. When Astor was good and ready, she turned to deal with her. With her arms crossed, she leaned against the table. “You want to talk, so talk.”
“To apologize,” Luna clarified. “To tell you how sorry I am-”
“About what, specifically?” Astor demanded, her eyes burning brighter than the tail of a comet.
“The whole investigation,” she waved in a wide circle to encompass the entire mess she had made. Her body slumped as if deflated. “I shouldn’t have dated you while I dug into your past,” she admitted. “But I couldn’t tell you, and I hope you can appreciate that.”
Her face fell, and her demeanor softened. “I do. I don’t like it, but I realize you wouldn’t have risked your career for someone you’d only just met.”
“Oh, my job was at stake anyway,” Luna assured her. “But if I’d tipped you off that you’d become the prime suspect in an ongoing investigation, I’d have been facing a court-martial.”
“I understand,” compassion entered her voice. “I appreciate the chances you were taking.”
Luna closed the gap between them. “I didn’t ask for the assignment. And once they forced me into it and I discovered what’s in your record, I threw all my effort into proving your innocence.”
Astor stomped her foot. “It was wrong to encourage me to pour out my heart to you after you’d already learned details from my past. Shit is hard to get out.”
“Baby, I understand, and I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked. She longed to draw her close. “But I promise you, I was equally destroyed reading the reports on the bridge. My reactions were genuine; I don’t put on airs.”
“No, you don’t,” she agreed. “I guess accusing you of it wasn’t fair. My temper got away from me.”
“Oh, who could blame you for being angry? I was a total jackass.” The corners of Luna’s mouth twitched, and Astor followed suit.
She scuffed the carpet with her toe. “Maybe not totally.”
Luna pressed on. “I need to apologize for hurting you while doing my job. I swear I never used anything you told me in any official capacity.”
“Good!” Astor’s nostrils flared. “I would hope not.” Then she crumpled. “I still can’t believe the entire bridge crew heard about my history.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry for that too.” She sighed, and her shoulders dropped. “I was barely too late to prevent it. I keep asking myself what would’ve happened if I’d played it differently…”
“Stop,” she squeaked. “You were trying to do the best thing.”
“But the bottom line is I care deeply about you.” She gazed at her and offered the hug she needed.
She stared at the outstretched arms and worked her lower lip with her teeth. Luna counted in Antarian to remember to keep breathing. Finally, Astor relented and collapsed into the embrace.
Tears welled up as Luna held her. With a deep sigh, she wrapped her up gently, afraid she’d squeeze too tight and chase her off. She ran her fingers through her hair and crushed her cheek onto the top of her head. Everything was right with the universe.
Luna felt content to cling to her until Andromeda collided with the Milky Way, but eventually Astor shifted to gaze at her. “But I’m not implying it’s acceptable to pull this shit every other week.”
“Promise me you’ll only be a suspect in a major crime this once,” she teased her.
Astor grasped for her and drew her face down. She pressed their lips together, and Luna felt her heartbeat race as the kiss deepened. Her hands floated around Astor’s body as though they had the power to hold her in place if she tried to vanish. The way she stroked her demonstrated she missed her with equal vigor. Each of Luna’s hairs stood on end as the sensitivity of her nerves flared like ions dancing through a magnetosphere.
“I guess we’re back together?” Luna asked when the activity wrested their mouths apart.
“Like a krespin fruit and gamtor nut sandwich,” Astor vowed.
A wicked grin spread across Luna’s visage. “How are we going to celebrate?”
Astor greedily claimed her mouth again. With their tongues dancing in passionate concert, she went to work wresting apart the buttons of her blouse. Luna grabbed the hem of her uniform and yanked it off, nearly tearing the flimsy fabric in her haste. She replaced it with a line of kisses that ran along the side of her neck and above the cups of her bra, and then she ripped that off, too.
Luna groaned, unable to caress enough of her naked skin simultaneously, but trying to stroke every square inch, until Astor leaped into her arms and smothered her with cleavage. She lapped at the gas giants as though she could lick away the upper layers of atmosphere while stumbling toward the bedroom door. Halfway there, she threw her up against the wall, grinding her hips into her pelvis and massaging her creamy thighs to improve her grip. Astor raked her nails across her shoulders and nibbled her ear as she clung tight.
Their lips joined in a powerful solar flare. Luna groped her way to the bed and flung her into its center, then collapsed on top of her. She traced her fingers down Astor’s cheek, through her hair, around her belly button, all the intimate places she could reach again. Finally, she sank into the softness of her embrace. Their reunion rang out like supernovae long into the night.
Editor: Michelle Naragon
