James walked down the sidewalk, lifting a hand in greeting with a smile as a car passing by slowed, driver yelling in his direction. Shaking away thoughts that this place would soon see war, he opened his mailbox and leaned on it, going through the envelopes absently. Bills and more bills, power, phone, Arspace Dynamics, paycheck… and a blank envelope, no stamp, just his name written in black ink on the front. He frowned at it, holding it up to the light. Yes, there was something inside it; this must have been set in his mailbox by hand.
He walked back up the sidewalk, going in the door automatically and setting the rest of the mail down on the table next to the door, sitting down in the living room and opening it with one of his worn claws, the folded sheet of paper falling into his hands. He opened it, and gaped when a check for five thousand credits fell into his lap. He picked it up, letter falling aside, holding it up to the light as well, looking at the watermark. It was real. Five thousand credits? Why?
He looked at the letter, picking it back up slowly, looking at the strong scrawling masculine handwriting. As he skimmed down it, he felt ice crawl into his veins, into his heart. How had this gotten his mailbox? Who had gotten within a stone's throw from his private residence, his house? The letter was detached and businesslike, a proposal of contract for the time of the war. But it wasn't from General Pepper, or from the President.
He let it drop into his lap, cradling his head in his hands. He was a mercenary. All this was was a proposal of contract. Why was he so unsettled?
He knew why.
He slowly stood, tucking the check and the letter in his inner jacket pocket, throwing the envelope away. Only then did he walk through the house and open the glass back door, smiling as his son shot by with a basketball, evading his friend's grasp by inches and shooting up, sinking the ball and hanging for a second. He applauded with a laugh as Fox touched down. "Not bad."
"He cheats." Falco was grinning though, popping a soda open. "Hey, old man."
He smiled at the skinny avian. "Hey yourself." He turned to his son. "I'm going to be gone a few hours, but I'll be back by dinner with any luck."
"Ok, see you later." Fox sent him a grin, already setting up for the next round of his game.
He closed the door and went back through the house, scooping his keys up and going out to his car, trying to brush away the consequences of what he was doing. He had no formal allegiance with this planet. It was his home, but it was not his country.
He just lived here, when he wasn't on duty. And he loved it.
Half an hour later saw his fighter leaving the atmosphere and lining up for a hyperspace jump. Waiting for his ship to accept the coordinates he had input, he read the letter again, slower this time, again wondering how this had gotten to his house. He sighed, bracing as his fighter bent space and lunged forward, putting a timer on his display as the FTL drives screamed him toward his destination. He stared at the window at the stars streaking by, waiting.
He didn't have long to wait.
"I still don't like this."
Andross was practically ignoring O'Donnel, watching the video feed with all his attention, loosing himself it in for a few seconds. "You'll see, O'Donnel." He finally said, turning the monitor off and standing, smoothing the white lab coat absently. "Where is he?"
"He's with his plane. A guard offered to take him to a meeting area, but he refused… Emperor, this isn't safe."
"Relax, O'Donnel. I'm not afraid of him."
The walk to the docking bay as a long one, ship personnel moving to get out of his way and bowing or saluting breathlessly. He acknowledged them automatically, trying to prepare his mind for this meeting. He heard O'Donnel walking behind him, and ignored it, his favored wing commander had a hapless paranoia about this sort of thing. He knew that his guest wouldn't dare hurt him until he knew the point of this meeting.
In which case, Andross would have him.
The docking bay opened up ahead of him, and he saw a number of his people frozen in their work, staring in shock at the small fighter plane sitting alone near the bay door, the figure leaning on it with his arms crossed, waiting. He looked up when Andross came in, crossing the empty space to the plane, hands in his pockets. "Andross." James McCloud said with unease, taking the letter out of his inner jacket pocket and holding it up. "I got your message."
"Good. I take it my proposal is open for discussion then?"
"Only if you're willing to explain yourself." He took out the check. "Is this any good?"
"Every penny. I figured it would be good incentive for you to trust me. Shall we?"
"Yes. Without your escort."
Andross looked over his shoulder at O'Donnel. "You're dismissed."
"Emperor…"
"Dismissed."
And O'Donnel went, making no move to disguise his anger and frustration.
"Walk with me, McCloud."
James fell into step with Andross, casting a side look at the scientist's lean figure, almost unable to believe this aging man was the up-and-coming threat to the safety of the system. But he had been there when the laboratory on Corneria had fallen. He had almost had his face taken off by a gengineered beast, the six claws coming less then an inch from his eye before his gun came to bear and fired without even aiming, the bullets pumping into the scaled chest, the scream sounding too human not to pain his heart.
"Your letter said that you wanted to contract me for the duration of the war, but said nothing of pay, of terms, or even why." James finally said uneasily.
"It is the belief of myself, and others, that your group will be a roadblock to our progress in the war." He stepped into an elevator, gesturing for James to do so as well. "So I seek to remove this roadblock in the easiest possible way."
"Somehow I'd imagine that would be killing me, not offering to pay me."
Andross smiled. "Not in this case, no. I have nothing against you, McCloud. I just wish you out of action during the war."
"You know I can't do that. The Cornerian government will ask me to fight."
"You are a mercenary, you can do what you wish." Andross pinned him in his gaze. "And I have something you want."
"You said that in your letter as well, but what could you possibly have? Money? Technology? Immortality?" He let sarcasm drip into his voice.
"So you think."
The elevator opened, and he led James down the hall, stopping in front of a glass wall. "I imagine you know what this area is."
"Yeah, it's your hydroponics right? Oxygen reclamation." James looked inside at what appeared to be a huge greenhouse. "Why?"
"Come to where I'm standing and look."
He reluctantly moved closer to the other man, looking down the row of plants, trying to figure out what Andross was trying to make him see. Standing about thirty feet away, on the other side of the glass, was a woman, holding a potted plant and smelling a flower, smiling. He looked at her, and felt his breath catch, disbelief filling him. It wasn't possible. He had held her as she had died, as his heart had snapped, but this was a body he had memorized every facet of, that he could have recognized in his sleep…
He went to move forward, to call out, and an iron grip clamped his shoulder. "No." Andross said softly. "She will not know you."
"How? How did you…" He whispered, one hand on his chest as it ached, watching as the young woman put the flowers down, completely oblivious to their presence on the other side of the glass. As he watched she stroked her hair back, a movement he had memorized, had taken no small pleasure in watching. Then her back was to him and she moved farther down the line, kneeling and looking at a bottom rack of plants. His heart throbbed, and he nearly cried right then, both hands on his chest now. "How?"
"Answer that yourself. What is my expertise?" Andross looked at him, and watched the diamond shatter, leaving just a man, just a heartbroken man. This was the true James McCloud, how he had been for thirteen years, and never let anyone see.
"Cloning." James said in a numb voice, leaning on the glass, staring at her. Realization sunk in and he turned to Andross. "You… you… how did you get her blood?"
"Post mortem sample." Andross studied his fingernails absently. "Taken just after she died. I kept it, for my own reasons, and brought her back a week ago."
"… at the age she died."
"Cloning isn't perfect. You can youthen people when you clone them, but you can't age them well. She thinks she's 28."
"Does she know who she is?"
"No. I told her her name was Marisa and that she was someone dear to me."
"Marisa…" He cupped his face in his hands, trying to resurrect the broken pieces of his mind. "Andross, why did you show me this?"
"I told you I had something you wanted."
James snapped his head up, staring at him.
"I know you never recovered after the death of your wife. Not even with therapy. You were almost discharged." Andross crossed his arms. "Correct?"
"… Yes. Correct."
"I know you never got into another serious relationship. I know that locket you wear has a picture of her. I have something you want, McCloud: a second chance with the one woman you ever loved."
"But you said she doesn't know me." James said, voice weak.
"No. But that is her mind. If she fell for you once…" He let it trail off, let it be implied what he meant. "She's… like a daughter to me, now. Even after just this short time. But she was brought back for a purpose." He locked James in his gaze again. "I will let you know her if you sign a contract with me for the war. You can stay on this command cruiser as personnel, and leave after the war, no strings attached, with or without her as the situation requires."
James stared at him, in shock.
"I have something you want, McCloud." And Andross left him to stand there, entering the greenhouse and calling out to the woman. She stood and smiled at him, flying to his arms in a glad grin, talking to him happily. Andross grinned back, no heat, no lust, just appreciation, affection. James leaned on the glass, watching this, and felt a single tear trail down one of his cheeks. Andross was right.
An hour later Andross came back, and found James sitting with his back against the glass, more composed now, arms crossed and clearly deep in thought.
"Well?" Andross asked quietly.
"You want me to be a noncombatant. And in exchange… you'll let me talk to her, get to know her, whatever. Am I right?" James asked, looking at Andross.
"Yes."
James stood slowly. "Do I have to give my answer now?"
"No."
"… Can I speak to her? For a few moments?"
Andross looked at him, and smiled. "Yes. I can allow that. Not too long though."
He sighed, composing himself as he dusted off his legs, and walked past Andross into the hydroponics area. He didn't see her initially, so he wandered up and down the rows, ending up standing nearby watching her replant something and reach for a tool.
She startled when it was set in her hand, looking up at a reasonably handsome middle-aged dog fox who had handed her the trowel. When she met his eyes he smiled a bit, and it was almost timid, and she couldn't help but smile back. "Oh, hello. I'm sorry I didn't notice you."
"That's all right. I walk quietly." He crouched on his heels absently. "I haven't seen you before."
"I'm sorta new. My name is Marisa." She finished with the plant, putting it back on the rack. "What's your name?" She looked at him, hair cascading, and he felt his heart skip two beats in response.
"James."
"James. I like it. It fits you." She stood, brushing off her hands. He stood with her, trying to decide what to say. She put the tools away, paused, and looked at him. "Have you ever had the strangest feeling of déjà vu?"
He tilted his head, and let a little bit of his smile show. "Sometimes."
"Mm. I'm glad I'm not the only one."
James caught Andross giving him a look through the wall of glass, and sighed, looking back to the beautiful woman standing before him. "I hate to make this short, but I have somewhere to be. It was a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand, and when she took it, he swept into a bow and kissed it lightly, making himself not linger, not nuzzle the hand that he remembered running over his fur. Then he left, turning his back with effort and exiting hydroponics, looking at Andross. "How should I contact you?"
Andross pressed a folded sheet of paper into his hand. "On this radio frequency. Make sure you're not being traced by anyone else." When James nodded, he huffed. "Think about this very, very carefully, McCloud. I'll see you back to your plane."