11. Until the Sky Falls

"Do I like it? I do. Simple. Clean. But you know what the best part of it is?"

"I suspect you're going to tell me regardless."

Tribore let out a little grunt of amused agreement. "The best part is, you left yourself a bit of wiggle room. Always necessary to ensure a great fit."

Gary smiled and took a mouthful of old, cold coffee. "I'll have you know, I've been told my wiggles are my best quality."

"I'll make sure the general hears that. So. Thud will lead the fighter wing and blast through the shielding here," said Tribore, getting back to business without skipping a beat. A projection of the Lord Commander's super-Incinerator, which, Gary now learned, was named the Mynn, hovered glowing green above the charting table as they devised their strategy. Tribore was pointing to the ridiculous, three-story battle deck dominating the front of the ship. "By Prince Cato and your reports, the Lord Commander is increasingly unhealthy. His mobility is limited and he'll want to conserve his energy, so he'll most likely have Mooncake with him here if he has any plans to tap into his energy. We'll do what we can to pinpoint his location with scanners. If the shielding is too strong on these windows, we'll hit the lightfold exhaust ports over here and you'll have to make your way up two decks. We drop you off, and you get your killer beach ball back."

"Hey! Be nice!" Gary countered. "Mooncake's not to blame for defending himself."

"It was a compliment. I've seen videos of what that little marimo can do. We all want him on our team."

Mollified, Gary asked, "And getting out?"

"Pick-up is possible, though not advisable. Hawks aren't designed to land on ships, only in them. If General Cataloupe is around, we might be able to send some Ventrexian fighters in to get you. Those things can land anywhere. Barring that, you'd be better off getting off and away from the Mynn and radioing for assistance."

"Copy that. Mooncake doesn't need to breathe, and he can get some decent speed going if he needs to."

Tribore doffed his beret and tossed it onto the table, blocking part of the projection as he flopped into a seat. He jerked his head to the far corner of the room. "What about them?"

Gary looked to where Fox and Ash were bundled together on a bench by the wall. Ash had a blanket and Fox's arm wrapped around her. Both were soundly asleep, he was glad to see. Tribore had offered them berths, but the notion of letting Gary or one another out of their sight had sent the teens into anxiety attacks. Fox had started babbling and Ash fidgeted at warp speed, unable to keep still or stop twisting her fingers. Gary had finally reassured them he'd be in this conference room for a while, and suggested they sit and relax. It wasn't until he promised he wouldn't leave without them that they settled down. Such trust and responsibility was daunting, but humbling at the same time. He did not want to fail them as they had been failed.

"They've had a rotten few days," sighed Gary, wishing he could do more. They were odd, but they weren't bad kids, and he saw something of himself in them both. "I know what it's like to have the foundation kicked out from under you. I guess I'll leave it up to them what they want to do."

"If they want to stay aboard during the battle, they're welcome to, but I suspect they'd rather tag along with you."

"That's fine," he said, not about to snatch away what little stability he'd given them.

Those six eyes blinked all out of sync, which Gary had already decided meant that Tribore, whatever he was, was pleased. "Then we'll include them in the next briefing. Get some sleep. You need it and we have a few more hours until the fun starts."

Gary nodded, and after a moment's consideration, joined the kids on the bench. He nestled in on Fox's other side, propping his feet on a chair and getting comfortable, before letting his mind wander to Avocato and Little Cato. He hoped to see them soon, and that they were safe, and well, and getting some rest . . .

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Dad? Time to wake up. Dinner's here. General Roc and Captain Cree'took will rendezvous in an hour. We'll be at the Tarb system in just under two hours."

Avocato stirred, reluctant to leave the warm nest of blankets, but eager for action at the same time. Closing his eyes for a moment, he winged a prayer to Ventrexia, the war goddess who had given his planet and race her name, that after all this planning and politicking, that after this looming battle, he could rest. Really rest. Then he pushed himself up, rubbing his aching head. Little Cato was right beside him, chewing on something and holding out a steaming cup of tea. He hastily swallowed so he could ask,

"Hungry?" He was clearly projecting and hopeful they would tuck in immediately, even though he'd already snuck a bite. In typical Ventrexian fashion, Little Cato was constantly hungry, and Avocato expected that any day now, a growth spurt would hit hard and fast, and he'd be looking to get the prince a whole new wardrobe. Again. "The kitchen sent up a roast in that spicy green sauce we both like. I checked, and the rest of the crews have eaten."

"Good," said Avocato, taking the tea in both paws to warm them. He did not like to send hungry troops into battle. He looked at Little Cato keenly, wondering, "You ready for what's coming?"

A smirk and a small, cocky tilt of his head said it all. His son was no stranger to combat or fighting, though Avocato had never allowed him to really experience the worst war had to offer. That wasn't to say he wasn't ready for what was coming. Trained by Avocato himself, Little Cato was highly capable, kept a level head, and, like his father, reveled in a good fight.

"Ready to pay back the jerks who locked me in a cell and fed me prison food for months? Who hosed me down every three days? Oh, I am so ready to unleash on them, Dad. I am going to make them sorrier than they've ever been sorry before." He paused, then gestured. "You guys can back me up, okay? I might leave you something so you can say you helped."

Avocato laughed, pulling him in for a quick headbump, that silent gesture that said volumes on Ventrexia. Little Cato leaned in to the caress, smiling at his father's pleasure.

"Sounds good," agreed Avocato. "Let's eat while it's hot."

He got no argument.

"So, I've been thinking."

They were midway through the meal. Avocato paused, setting his fork down to say,

"I'm glad to hear it. I knew this day was coming."

"Oh. Ha. Ha-ha." Little Cato made a face, amused to have his father the general act like a dad. "So, when all this is over and we're back on Ventrexia, what are we going to do with Gary?"

He was glad to hear Little Cato speak about the future, something he rarely did outside of immediate events and plans. Avocato had raised and educated him with an eye of assuming Ventrexia's throne some day, but the very idea had been so remote to Little Cato that he almost never mentioned it. To hear him talking so casually about them winning this rebellion and already returning to their home planet was extremely heartening.

"He's his own person. He can do whatever he wants."

"I know, but . . . what if I want to keep him?"

"We'd have to ask him if he'd like to stay."

"I could give him a reason."

"Oh? What reason?"

"Well, it can't be really easy being dad of a king, so . . . maybe Gary could be your backup dad? Vice dad? Maybe I could . . . adopt him, too?"

Avocato gazed at him in quiet astonishment. "You really don't grasp this whole adoption thing, do you?"

Little Cato shrugged. "I get the theory, I just don't agree with the mechanics."

Avocato imitated his shrug. "Fair enough."

"So what do you think?"

He took a sip of water, carefully swallowing. "I think this is something you need to discuss with Gary."

"Yeah-"

"Yes," Avocato corrected firmly.

"Yes," he echoed automatically, "but I wanted to discuss it with you first since you have veto powers. Plus, you're the number one dad."

Avocato smiled at the compliment and play on words. He appreciated the courage it took to broach a subject so near and dear to them both, and one so potentially delicate. Once again, he was awed that this child, this prince, loved him so completely and unabashedly. Wanted him for his parent. Admired him. It was humbling and empowering at once, and Avocato wanted nothing more than to have this beautiful little boy in his life. And Gary? If he had to share his life, his son, with anyone, Avocato couldn't imagine anyone better. For all his bluster and lack of refinement, Gary Goodspeed was, at the core, a very good man, and he had the rare quality of being genuine in word and deed. If nothing else, he was highly entertaining, and not only had he restored Avocato's hope along with his son, but he was another presence in the general's life that was worth fighting for.

"It would be someone else to love you and care for you. How could I possibly refuse?"

"He'd also be able to help care for you, too, Dad. Until you're better, I mean. Maybe after."

"If he wanted to," amended Avocato, not about to push Gary into anything he didn't want.

"Want to?" He gave Avocato a look of sheer disbelief. "Dad, have you seen the way Gary looks at you?"

"I might have. Remember, he's human, and I didn't live with him right across the hall, talking non-stop for months like you did. I can't read him as easily as you can."

Little Cato made a small, scoffing noise. "He's got it for you bad. Trust me."

"I do."

Little Cato paused at the softly-spoken affirmation, and shyly smiled. Avocato's praise meant everything to him. Then shy turned to sly as a clever idea occurred. He looked at his adopted father with wide, soulful eyes and he injected deep concern into his voice as he said,

"You know, Ventrexia's crown prince having two dads who aren't married might cause a huge scandal. We can't have that. It's not a good way to start my reign."

Avocato picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of meat, shaking his head in amused denial. "Don't push your luck. You've only adopted one of us, so far."

He shrugged, having every contingency covered. "If Gary says no to me, you can just marry him, then. Problem solved."

"Do humans even get married?"

"I think so. It doesn't matter, though, because Ventrexians do."

"Now you're definitely pushing it," said Avocato, his eyes bright with silent laughter.

But Little Cato just grinned, confident he had given his father something to think about. Not much later, Avocato set his napkin on the table and stood, switching roles from father to a battle-hardened warlord.

"Armor up, Colonel," he ordered sternly. "And let's go kill this son of a bitch."