Chapter 60
The once friend and father
Before taking off, Vai'dqouulth wanted to alert his Earth mate. Standing, he went to their quarters and found her opening the container she'd taken aboard.
A feline nose poked out tentatively, sniffing the air.
"I hope you don't mind, I need to transport my cat to America," Katja explained with uncertainty.
Interested, Vai'dqouulth walked over to get a better view. He had only seen the animal in repose.
"His name is Mishka. He is an excellent hunter and sometimes brings me dead things, like you," Katja continued.
The feline finally worked up the courage to come out of the transportation carrier. Very quickly, the animal acclimated and made itself comfortable on their pallet, purring, but it was unknown what purpose it served versus a Yautja.
"He's housebroken, don't worry. I brought everything he needs for the short trip," Katja kept trying to convince him of something. Of what, he wasn't sure.
"Come here, I'll introduce you." Katja waved Vai'dqouulth over.
Grunting, the hunter came to her, and she grasped his hand before manipulating it, open palm, over the spine of her pet. He was too distracted by her touch to resist. Not that he probably would.
"Not too rough, or with much pressure. Mind your claws," Katja coached, putting her palm over his as he pet her feline companion. "Focus on the ears and cheeks and under the chin. You can get the rump a few times, but if it's too much he'll get overstimulated."
The animal, in turn, looked at him with what he thought was contentment.
This was strangely enjoyable. He had never petted a feline before. Of course, most felines were dangerous prey he hunted, so the opportunity had never arisen, either.
"There. See? He likes you," Katja smiled and for a moment, he forgot his internal conflict. Everything was right between them.
Retracting his hand, he turned to his weakness. "We are prepared to depart," he announced simply.
"Ok. I'll… meet you up front, then," Katja answered before walking away.
Vai'dqouulth would be following, but first, he needed to explain matters to the feline.
"It seems we are in competition for the same female's attention," he began.
'Mishka' just stared at him, utterly unimpressed, and stood up from its crouched position.
"I understand you possess some hunting skill, and have presented your offerings. I too, have also demonstrated my prowess."
Katja's pet gave him a very bored yawn, bowing its front half in an exaggerated stretch of limbs.
"You should know, in my culture, the males may have to fight, to prove to a female who is superior," Vai'dqouulth warned, pointing a clawed finger at the animal.
The feline merely rubbed a cheek against Vai'dqouulth's claw a few times. A very powerful move. He was scent-marked as the feline's property now, if the behavior was universal across the species.
"I do not see why we can't both pursue her favor. You are clearly a worthy hunter," Vai'dqouulth reasoned.
Mishka gave a trill in response.
"Thank you two for coming here with me," Katja said as she, Adrien and Blue stood in front of a couple of headstones.
Well, Katja and Adrien were standing. Blue was cloaked in a tree above them.
"Sure," Adrien said. He still didn't really know why he was there, but if it made her feel better to have company, it certainly didn't hurt him any to stand there for a few minutes.
Blue directed an acknowledging grunt towards Katja.
"So, this Karik?" Adrien asked, pointing to a grave. It was adorned with a folded flag, flowers, and military paraphernalia.
"No. That's… mine," Katja said, sounding awkward.
Adrien tried to think of something appropriate to say to that. "Oh, well… looks like they decorated it nicely."
Thankfully, Katja just chuckled, not offended.
"You want a twenty-one-gun salute?" Adrien added.
"I don't think that's necessary," Katja quipped. Then, her face became more solemn. "You can do one for my brother if you want, though." She gestured to the grave next to hers. "That one is his."
Deciding a wave or hello would come off as awkward at best and condescending at the worst, Adrien snapped a quick salute at the headstone. "Pleasure, Major."
Katja looked at him with such gratitude and warmth, Adrien almost felt guilty. And here he'd been resentful for something she couldn't even know, let alone control. She was a good kid. It was lucky for everyone she had such a strong conscience, or she probably would have seized control of the Russian government by now.
Hugging her arms tightly around herself, Katja didn't seem to have any clue as to Adrien's thoughts. In fact, she was gazing at the headstone with misty eyes.
"I failed, Karik. I'm leaving for a while. To set things right. By the time I'm here again…"
She trailed off, glancing at Adrien and then up at the tree where Blue was hidden, as though she'd forgotten.
"I'll see you… I don't know when. But soon. I promise," she finished, placing a hand on the headstone lovingly.
There was a thud behind them, which turned out to be Blue landing to observe closer. Adrien watched the distorted form crouch down in front of the headstone.
The big guy growled some words quietly before standing. The two humans looked at him questioningly.
"Warrior's prayer," Blue answered the unasked question.
The marine could tell that meant a lot to Katja, even if neither of them understood exactly what it meant.
"Let's go," Katja said quickly, dabbing at her eye with her neck gaiter.
"To your apartment?" Adrien ventured.
"No. I need…" She faltered visibly. "First, I need to report the deaths of my men to their next of kin…"
"Oh, no. No, no, no, don't do this to yourself Kat," was all Adrien could think.
"We don't have that kind of time," Adrien gently tried to reason.
"You're right, we don't. I'll call or write letters from America for most of them. But… I have an obligation to tell Petrov's parents in person," Katja said.
Blue gave her a dissenting growl, and Adrien had to agree.
"Not a good idea," Adrien spoke for them both.
Katja rubbed her head silently. "We need to wait for nightfall to load up an alien ship with things from my apartment anyway."
Damn, that was a good reason. But they could do literally anything in the meantime. Take a nap, for example.
"Where is the location?" Blue finally asked.
Caving, because Katja influenced him to. In frankness, Adrien wasn't even mad about it; because if Blue hadn't asked, he probably would have.
Better get going…
Petrov's parents were right in the center of Moscow and Katja didn't want to risk revealing Blue or his craft. Besides, as much as she might want someone by her side, this was something she had to do herself.
So, she told them to stay in said ship and walked the distance to the apartment alone.
Now, she faced the door, wanting to run away and write a letter instead.
Katja rang the bell of Petrov's apartment, heart pounding. She had no idea how she was going to get through this. She'd rather fight the Queen or face the Yautja clan leaders again.
The door opened, and a harried-looking young woman barely glanced at Katja before reaching for the coat rack near her and grabbing her jacket.
"Good, my replacement. Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be here an hour ago. I just gave them a meal, and the old man used the toilet not long ago so he should be good for a while. See you tomorrow."
With that, not even looking for identity or credentials, or the fact she was in bloody, torn military garb, the woman swept past Katja. Captain Mikhailov was left standing outside, stunned at the indifferent bluntness with which the caretaker had spoken.
The Petrovs were human beings, not pets. and should've been treated with a little more dignity.
Slipping inside, Katja cautiously looked around the small apartment. "Hello?" she called quietly. All she heard was a game show playing on an old tube TV. Jeopardy maybe?
Receiving no response, she moved through the kitchen/living area and back to one of the three closed doors. Knocking on one, she slowly opened it.
A bedroom, very small. Katja somehow immediately knew it was Petrov's room.
There was a faded, cracked hockey stick with the logo of his favorite hockey team, the Dynamo Moscow, hanging on the wall. Pushed against the wall was a single bed that was far too short for his large too, it didn't have proper sheets and coverings, just some heavy old blankets tossed to the side from when he last woke up.
When he woke up for the Siberia evacuation…
On the nightstand (that had clearly been repaired a couple of times) lay a few library books. One was on the last military leader she'd covered with her unit: Hannibal, the ancient Carthaginian. She didn't know Petrov had been doing additional research.
Not much else decorated the room.
"We don't have drugs or money, so you may as well leave!" a voice cut into her thoughts.
Turning, she found a man in a wheelchair, his legs missing from below the knee. He had to be in his fifties to sixties, but still had a youthful spark in his eye and color to his hair. A single barrel break action shotgun rested in his lap. 20 gauge, by the looks of it. The legality of said firearm was somewhat in question; but frankly, she didn't care.
She quickly came to the realization she probably looked like a dangerous reprobate in her rags. "I'm, uh, Captain Jekaterina Mikhailov. Please don't shoot, I mean you no harm."
The man's eyes widened in recognition, his jaw working, but no sound emitting. He quickly took his hand off the shotgun. Clearly, Maksim had told his parents about her at some point.
It further shattered her already broken heart.
"I am so sorry, Captain! We have thieves breaking in constantly."
"It's ok," Katja said, softly, brushing a loose lock behind her ear nervously.
"I am Kovic Petrov," the man unnecessarily identified himself, holding out his hand, which Katja took and shook.
"We– we heard the meteor was devastating, killing many civilians and military," he continued in her silence.
A moment later, a woman, presumably Alena Petrov, poked her head around the doorframe. She, too, used a wheelchair. To Katja's recollection, she was paralyzed from the waist down.
They looked hopeful of good news, but Katja had none to deliver. Oh, lord, she felt sick.
"I… yes." If anyone deserved the truth about what had happened in Siberia, it was the families of the victims.
But the truth could lead to the deaths of Adrien, Alexei and even Blue, depending on how strict the Yautja government was. She had sworn not to tell.
"You are Captain Mikhailov?" Alena asked, smiling slightly, wheeling herself into the room. "Well, Maksim is right. You are very lovely."
Katja felt her face going red. "Oh, umm. Thank you." Alena was being generous. She sincerely doubted she looked very good at that moment. She looked like…
Well, she was quite literally a train wreck.
"I'll just ask Polina if she'd put on some tea for us, and we can talk," Alena said gently, and Katja froze.
Maksim's mother knew. She knew, and she was trying to make things easier for Katja.
Stammering, Katja said, "I, uh, th– th– think, I th– If Polina is the lady who was here earlier, I'm afraid she left. But I'd be glad to heat some water."
Several minutes later, they were around a table with hot mugs.
Kovic removed the bag from his tea. "You look like you have seen some action, Captain."
Katja clutched her mug until her hand began to burn. "There was a lot of chaos…" Her mind couldn't even concoct a good lie. It was mostly his son's blood that covered her uniform.
"Are you all right, sweetheart?" asked Alena softly.
She couldn't do this anymore. She had to just… tell them. "He didn't make it. Maksim's not coming home. I'm so sorry."
Both Petrovs looked down at the table at the same time. It made Katja want to cry so badly; but she forced herself to hold it in. This was their time to mourn, not hers.
"We knew he might be," Kovic said slowly, heavily. "We've already been through the shock. The news said only a few military personnel evacuated with the civilians."
"But they aren't letting survivors speak with reporters," Alena said, faltering. Her eyes were brimming with tears. "So, we weren't sure… we hoped maybe he'd…"
They'd hoped maybe Maksim had been one of them.
A long silence stretched between them, and Katja drank some tea to wet her throat enough to speak.
"He died protecting his allies. And me. He's the best soldier I've ever had. The best man. I'll never… I was his commander, and I failed to protect him and bring him back to you. I won't ever forgive myself for that."
Alena placed a hand over hers.
"Don't," said Kovic, thickly. "Don't blame yourself, young lady. My boy has always made sacrifices for others. It's who he was. And I'm proud of him."
That, Katja could agree with. "Me, too."
Through tears and tea, Petrov's parents and Katja spoke for the next few hours, remembering Maksim through stories. While hers were more recent and mostly related to work, the Petrovs shared a few from his childhood. It brought her a sense of tranquility, somehow, picturing little Maksim baking with his mother, or rescuing a nest of baby bunnies before a cultivator could get them.
"Well," Alena said at last. "I think there may be some food leftover, in the refrigerator, if you'd like. Have you eaten?"
Shaking herself, Katja said, "No, and I thank you for the offer, but… I should be going. I… appreciate your time and hospitality. You couldn't have shown greater kindness to me."
Kovic nodded. "Well, we appreciate your time coming here and talking to us about our son. I don't think his last commander would have done that."
"Of course." Hesitating, fidgeting, Katja tried to think of a polite way to ask her next question. What would they do now? Who would care for them? Maksim had said back in Siberia he had plans in the event of his passing; but…
Were they going to live the rest of their lives stuck in this little apartment, with no money and caretakers who walked away with no questions asked, or were hours late? Would they be sent to a care facility?
She couldn't just leave them here like this.
Adrien. Adrien would have a solution. Adrien would have money, resources, and pull within the government if he retook the CIA. If nothing else, and if the Petrovs were in agreement, she could take out a loan just to relocate them to America – once she was a citizen.
Suddenly, she was eager to get to America, where before there was apprehension.
As she was calculating the logistics of it all, the presumed other caretaker walked in; a tall, boney woman with a severe expression.
"I am sorry, I got caught up in– oh!" the woman exclaimed as she took in the scene around the table. "Who are you?"
"Just leaving, actually," Katja answered, getting up before the woman could ask any more questions. She didn't want anyone else knowing that she was still alive.
Maksim's parents joined her as she hurried to the door. Thankfully, the new caretaker didn't follow.
"Listen, don't tell anyone I was here" Katja quietly requested of the Petrovs, donning her jacket. A cough threatened her throat with a tickle, but she forced it down.
"But the caretaker–" Alena began.
"I wouldn't normally advocate this, but lie. Please. Do not tell her my name. Do not tell anyone I visited. Just… trust me on this," Katja said as she worked the zipper.
"Are you in danger?" Kovic asked worriedly.
"No, I'm dead. And everyone needs to believe that," Katja answered, knowing she was being a bit vague. Thankfully, they seemed to get the drift.
Gloves on, she was ready, and placed a hand on the door. But, hesitating, she looked at Kovic and Alena once more, her thoughts drifting to Maksim's dogtag, safe in her pocket.
She needed to give it to them. He had specifically asked her to. It was theirs. He was theirs. Not hers.
Her hands froze, refusing to move and retrieve it.
"Get it," her mind screamed at itself. "Give it to them! It was the last thing he asked of you!"
"Goodbye," she whispered, opening the door and running outside. The thin piece of metal felt like a million kilos in her pocket.
She couldn't think about what she'd done; not at that moment. Quickly, she made her way down the stairs of the apartment, walking out into Moscow. Dark was falling, as she had expected and hoped. She began a brisk walk back to the ship, but a police car suddenly turned onto the road, coming straight at her, headlights bright. Maybe the caretaker had called them after she left.
That wasn't good. She'd be stopped for the uniform and its condition. Her ID would be pulled, and questions that were impossible to truthfully answer would be asked.
Ducking down an alleyway, Katja picked up the pace even more. The siren of the police car wailed from behind, but she didn't turn, feigning ignorance.
"Stop!" she heard the order from behind her. Katja didn't dare begin to run, just in case they weren't after her.
Wishful thinking.
The running footsteps were getting closer, and it was further confirmed they were after her when she saw their reflection in a discarded alcohol bottle.
Katja whipped around just as both officers reached her, but both were suddenly thrown – by seemingly no force at all.
It took a fraction of a second for her to realize what was happening.
"No! No! Don't kill them!" she howled.
The heads of the two officers were forced together with a loud crack, knocking them both out. Or at least, she hoped.
"They intended to cause harm to a clan member. Defensive killing is appropriate," Blue spoke innocently.
"They're… arbitrators! They are just enforcing the law!" Katja reasoned, trying to use a term to help him understand.
"Law enforcement of any kind has no jurisdiction over a Yautja clan member," Blue argued back petulantly.
"They don't know that!" Katja shouted before calming down. "You incapacitated them. They didn't see you. We can leave. No one has to die. As a matter of fact, it would raise our profile if they were killed."
She could see his rippled shadow cock its head. "Your reasoning is sound," Blue finally agreed.
Katja sighed, the cough coming back with a vengeance. Still, she kept it suppressed. "What're you doing out here, anyway? I told you to stay put."
"I was hoping you'd come out with me and watch my back," her own voiced played from Blue. One of their first conversations. Well, one-sided conversation, anyway.
"I… thanks. But you put yourself at risk for discovery," Katja said.
"As did you. And you were discovered," Blue retorted, using voice clips to get the emphasizing tone across.
"Yeah, you got me there," Katja said, rubbing the back of her head. She forgot the bruise there, however, and winced when she applied too much pressure.
"We must depart before more witnesses arrive," Blue urged.
Katja just nodded, feeling a sort of a dragging feeling coming on just before sickness. That better not be the blood poisoning…
The weapon, his Earth mate, had been surprised to see him. Vai'dqouulth had chosen to ignore her previous command. Was it because he wanted to prove he had control by defying the weapon's order, or because the carrier virus had finally taken hold, and he was concerned about his female? He didn't even know.
Still, it had proved to be a wise choice as Katja coughed and sniffled every so often while they walked. She was in no condition to fight off two human arbitrators.
"Ugh, I'm sorry. I must've caught something respiratory," Katja apologized after a sneeze.
"It is the carrier virus for your vaccinations. It has taken hold. Soon, you will be immune to much," Blue said.
"Oh, good, I guess. I thought maybe it was the blood poisoning again," Katja said. He did a scan for that aliment for perhaps the hundredth time just in case. Pure paranoia, because he knew she was cleansed of it. The scan revealed nothing, as he should've known.
"How nasty is this… carrier virus?" his mate requested.
Nasty? She must be asking how debilitating the symptoms were. He didn't know, as he had been born with immunities to most diseases, not needing this regiment. However, the veterinarian had provided a digital docket to peruse.
"It is specifically picked because of its mildness to all species, as it would be counterproductive to kill the creature one means to vaccinate. Your symptoms should be mild, relating to upper respiratory, but rare cases, have killed the host," Vai'dqouulth recited his knowledge on the subject.
"Killed?!" Katja blurted.
"There were other contributing complications. The percentage of these deaths is also low," Vai'dqouulth further assured.
"How low?" Katja pressed.
Vai'dqouulth tried to think of something comparable. "There is a better chance of two ships colliding with each other in the vastness of the universe."
"Oh," Katja said, much calmer now.
"Would not leave your life to chance," Vai'dqouulth reminded her. "Odds in your favor."
"Blue…" Katja began, shaking her head. "We really do come from vastly different ideologies, you know that?"
"It is only as much of an obstacle as we would like to make it," Vai'dqouulth countered.
"I suppose you're right," Katja agreed before coughing.
"Carry?" He offered.
"No, I'm good, thanks," Katja replied.
Before long, they were back at the ramp of the ship. Entering, he could hear Adrien coughing and sneezing as well.
It seemed they had synchronized contraction.
"Think I caught something," Adrien stated as they entered the commons.
"Carrier virus," Katja answered with a cough of her own.
"Yes, yes of course," Adrien nodded.
"You're mocking me by pretending to know what that is," Katja deduced what the Yautja already had.
"Also, yes," Adrien affirmed her suspicions.
"Blue? Would you please?" Earth Mate requested tiredly.
"The vaccines are delivered by a nonlethal virus. Both of you are infected," Vai'dqouulth answered simply. Obviously, it was far more complex than that, but no need to breakdown the scientific language that he didn't necessarily even understand.
"You could've mentioned that. Is it transmittable?" Adrien asked.
"M-di," the Yautja answered in his own tongue.
"Alright." The veteran nodded before turning to Katja. "How'd it go with Petrov's parents?"
"Terrible. Why did you let me do that?" Katja answered.
"I didn't. As a matter of fact, I told you not to do it," Adrien defended indignantly.
The hunter had to contemplate this matter. He had listened in as his Earth mate informed the weak warrior's sire and bearer of his death. It seemed they had been prepared for this outcome, as their reaction was not exceptional.
He had been informed when one of his offspring had passed simply because the ship's database matched the DNA back to him. Since males didn't – and weren't – allowed to participate in upbringing, he'd felt little, other than disappointment. And perhaps a sliver of regret.
One of the many benefits of pairing with Katja would be his involvement in rearing, even if lack of experience or knowledge of the matter left him somewhat… apprehensive. He could make sure offspring were taught to hunt and fight properly. He took comfort in knowing the female wouldn't shut him out from it. In fact, he'd be expected to actively participate. That part excited him.
"Obviously I made a bad choice, and you let me," Katja grumbled to Adrien.
To Vai'dqouulth's understanding, Adrien did not truly bear the blame of her actions. Nor did he, which he guessed was coming next.
"How'd they take it?" the warrior unexpectedly switched his tone and line of questioning.
Katja's shoulders tensed. "They knew. I simply confirmed it for them," she answered softly.
"I'm sorry, kiddo," Adrien said as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
"It's part of the job." Katja looked down. But, just briefly, she leaned closer to him, as if allowing herself the comfort.
"Your duty," Vai'dqouulth added.
"Someone has to do it, even if... even if it sucks," Katja agreed with him.
There was silence as they took it in. Katja's pack mentality mixed with undisciplined human emotions likely made this particular duty much more difficult.
"Cops also attempted to arrest me," Katja explained.
"They still alive?" Adrien shifted his gaze over to him.
"Yes." Katja nodded.
"That's gonna be a real problem when they wake up, Katja," Adrien said.
"I know. They'll be looking for someone with my description and they'll think I assaulted two police officers," Katja summarized.
She was remorseful because he intervened? Strange female. Most would be impressed.
"Is it dark out, at least?" Adrien rubbed the flat part of his head, above the eyes.
"Yeah," Katja confirmed solemnly.
"Then it's moving day, kid. Where's your apartment?" Adrien requested.