“Take a breath. I come in peace,” she laughed through her digitized helmet, “I knew what might happen to my ship when I put it in that monster’s line of fire.”
“I am… so sorry about your ship,” Galia bowed deep, then popped up to say, “It flew just like I always imagined, though. Like a dream.”
“You two are the ones like a dream. The way you pulled that off…” the Eagle marveled. Her helmet wandered up to the dark of the void overhead, where a massive white flare was still burning out.
“What will you do now?” asked Deidra.
“Funny, that was my question for you,” the Eagle shrugged, “Daniel is still out there. He’ll rear his head in the Olympia again, and I’ll be there to separate it from his neck.”
“Kayn, listen... Jonas wouldn’t have wanted…” Deidra tried, but the woman under that helmet wasn’t Kayn anymore. She’d been twisted into something else. The Terra Eagle’s mechanical hand clamped down on Deidra’s shoulder to quiet her.
“Jonas would have wanted you to live. That’s your job. Avenging him is mine,” said the Eagle.
“I’ll look forward to my charity bonus. Maybe I’ll add a second head to the ship,” she joked, gave Deidra one last pat, and left. She and Galia headed through the doors to the Forge.
“Boots!” Clarabelle cried instantly. Deidra jumped, then laughed. She’d actually forgotten. How could she forget? She and Galia kicked their boots off outside, then came into an empty pub of upturned chairs.
“Sorry,” smiled Deidra, “It’s my first day off the job.” Clarabelle went on sorting glasses into cabinets and rinsing pots.
“Then you want to tell me what in the hell you’re doing here?” she countered, never looking up. She couldn’t hear Deidra approach, so quietly as she used to, in her socks. “I hope you didn’t come to say goodbye. You should have just turned tail and run the second you got a chance.” Clarabelle flinched when Deidra closed arms around her.
“I hate to disappoint you,” said Deidra. But Clarabelle let her arms down, to bury her head in Deidra’s hair.
“You never have. Not once,” she said. Then Clarabelle pulled back. Her fingers shot up to Deidra’s Gold Standard collar. “Except maybe leaving this damn thing on.” With a few button dials, Clarabelle removed the collar. Deidra winced from instinct, that it might explode or just behead her. But then, Koslav Gold himself had signed off on her release from contract. The cursed choker popped free without so much as a beep.
“I do still need that, to walk around outside buildings, though,” Deidra laughed when Clarabelle slam-dunked it in the bin.
“No you don’t,” the old barkeep countered. She reached up to her own throat, to disconnect her custom, emerald green collar. She moved it to Deidra, and clipped it shut comfortably behind the collar of her shirt. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Clarabelle,” said Deidra. Clarabelle held her by the neck, to admire the beautiful woman she’d become. The beautiful woman she’d always been, under the uncomfortable uniform and dirt. Clarabelle looked over at the beautiful woman that’d saved Deidra’s life. Captain Galia Hattel.
Thank you, Clarabelle mouthed to her. Galia nodded.
“Surprised you, didn’t I?” she said. It was Galia who was surprised, however, when Clarabelle said,
“No. I knew you were good.” She backed away, to hold them each by one shoulder. “Now get out of here, and don’t look back,” Clarabelle whimpered. “You live however you want, and be everything you are.” Deidra forced herself to smile through two streaks of crystal on her cheeks.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The newly refurbished Dreamweaver set out, a few weeks later, from Greymoor, for destinations unknown. Its crew of two debated ideas of visiting planets out beyond the stars. With two new kidneys, lungs and a liver, Galia was finally ready. They toyed with the idea of searching for a treatment for alien parasites. Deidra thought she might go out for hoverbike racing. It didn’t much matter, they decided; they had the time and money to try it all.
Wherever they went, Galia and Deidra had a hand to hold. Lips to kiss. Where the adventures of stars came and went, worlds away from the smoldering mass of Ares, they were never again without one another.