May 7, 2440 5:15:00 AM
“Good morning, T’mari,” Matt called over his shoulder, wondering if he should have used her name or whether she would wonder how he knew it was her. It was obvious to him who it was; she smelled so damned good. He continued to slice the melon. “I will have breakfast for us in a minute. “I am a little ashamed to say it, but I sent one of your shuttles on a mission last night. I am sure we have better uses for them than picking up groceries from the other side of the world, but I needed to prove to some of my allies the value of the shuttles and the V’ren that crew them.”
Lucy had agreed quickly to his mission plans. She had been doing that since they were teenagers, and he wanted to sneak off to the dive bar in Marrakesh. When he told her what he was planning long term, he half expected her to hitch a ride back just to meet the aliens. She hadn’t. That wasn’t what a responsible Queen of Spain did. If there was one thing Lucille de Todos los Santos de Borbón y Toledo had always been as a monarch, it was Capital R responsible. It was also the very thing that had kept them from ever becoming what they could have been. She had Spain. He had the Freehold. Both had the responsibilities that were inherent to the people they served. When the masks of state were put away, though, they were still Matt and Lucy, and once the Rioja was flowing, Matty and Lulu. He wondered if he should invite Kista for a few months. Princess of the Austrias being put to work alongside freeholders and V’ren teens might appeal to her mother. He would file it away for later.
“I am sure the pilot was thrilled, most of us don’t get much chance to do atmospheric flight, especially on a new planet,” T’mari said looking at the gleaming copper pots and her own reflection in the window glass and could think of a hundred different angles where he would have seen her coming and sighed to herself that once again her scent had drawn no attention from him the way a compatible man should have been reacting.
“You are a pilot, too?”
“Yes, I got the basics of the most common shuttle classes when I took my first shipboard training, and then I certified as the coms officer and pilot of the larger shuttles while taking my military training. Before we were sent to colonize, I did a fair amount of the piloting on the ship Uncle K’rem captained.”
“Really, if you are interested in learning to fly our planes, that can be arranged. They aren’t that fast, but they can be fun to fly with no special tech to smooth out the turbulence. Just you versus the wind and gravity. I have maintained Annette’s plane over the years, but can’t bring myself to pilot it anymore. I learned because she loved to fly,” he said, giving the mint final chop before tossing it on the watermelon. He hid the unspoken lie of why he gave it up with his back.
“I don’t know what I would have done if I lost my sister. We have never really been close, but until yesterday, I don’t think I knew just how important she is to me.”
“That is something we never really know until we are adults and are faced with it too often after they are gone. Your mother told me a little of what she went through while I was driving her around yesterday. I can’t imagine the amount of survivor’s guilt she must be going through.”
“Survivor’s guilt, that is a phrase I have never heard, but it makes perfect sense for what many of us are going through.”
“You too?” he asked, wishing he hadn’t opened a wound she couldn’t close, and by the tone of her voice, he had.
“Three of my crew, friends, but no one so close to me. Is it survivor’s guilt when they die, and you are merely wounded?” she asked, taking the mug he offered her as he hefted the tray tablewards.
“Oh yes,” he said, thinking of the number of times he nearly died only to have the carnage hit all around him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, not today,” she said, thinking of the jagged metal shard pinning her to the deck as she listened to Estan screaming, caught in the electrical cabling for longer than it should have taken anyone to die.
“Good, me either, just know you aren’t alone, and we meet at least once a week when one of need to talk about it.”
T’mari let the soft tastes of the red-fleshed melon melt in her mouth and finely crunched into the flesh, only to have her reverie interrupted by the sounds of what had to be siblings or an old married couple.
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Shut up, both of you, I haven’t had enough coffee yet,” he said, grinning at T’mari, who was helping him through their third pot.
“Your truck is loaded, your highness,” MJ said, plucking a pineapple spear from his plate. “When are you going to let me drive it?”
“Go buy your own, and if you’re good today, maybe Lola Rhea will let you help with the tepache,” Matt added, pushing back from the table and sorely tempted to use the clipboard delivered by the impudent teenager to swat her backside.
