A Soldier for All Seasons

Ana woke with a gasp. For a moment, she was away, isolated, dreaming of Nate in danger and alone. And then she felt his warmth against him, heard his soft snores. The rise and fall of his chest.

The clock on the bedside table displayed the blue digits. Early morning. She should go back to sleep.

But she was well-rested. Energetic. Nate's power flowing through her, her body having taken some of his seed to nurture itself, despite Cora having taken most of it for herself.

She was a little sore, though.

She gently rolled out of bed and grimaced.

More than a little sore.

That was just what it took to satiate her man. A price she'd happily pay. Now, both he and his monster lay limp, satisfied. From the looks of Cora's swollen stomach and smile, he'd fed her a load straight from the source.

Perfect.

Ana resisted the urge to clap her hands. Cora needed Nate. And Nate needed Cora. Nate needed women to support him, to pleasure him.

To defend him.

She padded out of their room, intent on showering herself.

But coming out of the bathroom, she found Lunar. In her silver bodice and leather battle-skirt, her hair glistening and wet, her face glowing and still dotted with water drops.

"Oh! Forgive me, Princess Anariel, I—" Lunar stammered, eyes dropping away from Ana's naked visage.

Ana reached past her, into the bathroom, to the bathrobe hanging on the towel heater.

"Forgive me, rather." Ana gave her a sweet smile. "I hadn't thought anyone else would be up at this time."

Lunar bowed her head. "My people wake up early to harmonize our battle forms with the rising sun."

"And after that?"

"We eat."

Ana scrutinized the Mediator. "Tell you what — I've been trying to be a better cook for Nate for ages now. I'm still learning but breakfasts? I can do quite a splendid breakfast, if you'll allow me to blow my own horn."

"I do not understand the idiom, but I believe I understand your meaning, Princess." Lunar said.

"Good." Ana said firmly. "How about I cook you a breakfast fit for any warrior and you tell me everything that happened in that trial?"

Lunar quailed slightly. "Very well."

"Very well." Ana smiled. A Mediator and potential Judge? If she was going to keep Nate safe, she could do a lot worse.

###

"And that is how the events occurred."

"It was survival." Ana wasn't talking about Nate's heroics.

Lunar dipped her head. "Not entirely, in truth." She clenched her jaw. "I am a proud warrior, a proud Mediator. He is a good man and does things I have never seen in battle. Victory finds him like a child finds its mother. His mind, his will, his sense of

purpose

..."

Ana smiled slightly. "We both know he is special."

The brunette beauty looked at her plaintively. "And entirely in love with you."

Slipping her hair behind her pointed ears, Ana took a sip of coffee. It was lukewarm. It had been a long story. "Nate has a tremendous capacity for love." She told Lunar. "It's my favorite thing about him."

They were silent for a long moment. Lunar studied her empty cup. Ana studied Lunar.

"I am uncomfortable being with him." Lunar admitted. "Especially given I do not wish his company to be born from his pity—"

"Do you think that's a decision that

you

get to make?" Ana asked.

Lunar recoiled like she'd been slapped.

Ana continued. "I have studied your culture, know your ways. You mate for life, no? And often to your Kyrios."

"A logical and unemotional commitment to the Kyrios, to be a better component in the battle squad, to better serve." Lunar could barely meet her eyes.

The coffee was cold and bitter, but it tasted like triumph on Ana's tongue. "And your Kyrios, do they

fuck

their mates on the team?"

"To allow release, it increases battle performance when performed the night—"

"And aside from the Kyrios, who holds the highest rank in the squad?" Ana interrupted.

"The greatest warrior." Lunar answered, her eyes wide.

"And what is their role?"

"They will instruct the others when the Kyrios is absent or indisposed."

Ana snorted. "Well, Nate chose

me.

Do you understand?"

"Yes, but—"

"Wait, let me finish. Nate chose me to be his right hand. He is busy with Cora, he needs rest. But when he's recovered, he'll expect us both in his bed, to relieve him of his stresses and to tend to his injuries. Do you understand me?"

"Yes—" Lunar muttered.

"I said, do you understand?" Ana said sharply.

"Yes, Mistress." Lunar nodded keenly. Ana saw the relief in her eyes. She just wanted to belong. Ana knew that feeling all too well.

"You may call me Ana."

"Yes, Ana."

Mugs in the sink, a cluster of teaspoons rattled together in a single cup, peas in a pod. Nate would be up soon — she needed to start breakfast. First, a shower. Clothes. Maybe a spaghetti strapped tank top and a miniskirt?

Lunar sat straight in her chair, hands around her mug, pondering her new reality.

She needed purpose. A firm hand. In time, it would be Nate's. But for now...

Ana brushed the girl's hair gently. "I'm a weak warrior." She admitted. "You must protect him. He was injured on

your

watch."

Lunar flinched. "I will do better."

"Yes, you will."

###

The flight route to the Jubilee was slow — Nate was torn between relief at the chance to relax and enjoy the tender care of Ana and the girls, and deep fear that they'd arrive too late.

"We're going to be in time for the Jubilee." Ana assured him. "Isabelle's ran the flight plan three times already."

"We can't go any faster." Isabelle chirped from the console.

"I know, I know." Nate collapsed into the kitchen table. "I'm just...we're going to get there with minutes to spare. We'll be later than everyone else, trying to get through security. And even once we get through, we'll have no idea of the layout, no clue of the threat."

"But in time." Ana clasped his hand.

"A shield need only arrive at the last moment." Lunar agreed.

"Do you think my boobs are bigger?" Cora asked absently.

"No bigger than when you asked five minutes ago." Ana laughed.

"Sorry." Cora blushed.

"You're right, all of you. Even you, Cora." Nate joked. "Can I help cook?"

"No." They all three chorused.

"I don't see why."

"You're still injured." Ana dismissed.

Nate rolled his shoulder out of reflex. Before they'd left, surgeons had removed the shards of the arrow head from his shoulder, filling the gap in his shoulder with bio-gel — in theory, the bio-gel would dissipate as the flesh regrew. It was an uncomfortable itching sensation and the shoulder still stung, but he could lift things.

And he could hold a spatula, he grumbled in his head.

"Oh, look at that scowl." Ana giggled and kissed it away. "Here, is this better?" She dropped her skirt and kicked it away and pulled down her top, leaving herself naked in an apron. She wiggled her ass at him, laughing louder when his jaw dropped a little.

"That is better." Nate admitted.

"I may be able to one up Ana." Isabelle announced, her hologram grinning from the console on the kitchen table.

"Really?" Nate's eyebrows rose.

"Come to the bridge and see for yourself."

They scrambled to the bridge. In the viewscreen, large and looming, his old cruiser.

"The Destiny!" Nate exclaimed.

"This far from the battle front, they must be heading to the jubilee." Isabelle surmised.

"That's pretty serious security." Ana mentioned. Nate just tuned them out, admiring his old haunt. It was a beastly thing, scarred and pockmarked, but its injuries made it look more imposing than any of the sleek cruisers out of the shipyard. It was brightly lit and not just from the windows — external tower lights were highlighting some manned engineering crews in their maintenance ships — or cranebots, as they were affectionately known.

They must have stopped for maintenance, Nate thought.

"What do you think, Nate?" Ana raised an eyebrow. "Shall we drop in for a visit?"

"I...yeah!" Nate grinned at the thought of seeing his old squad.

Isabelle opened a channel.

"Battle-cruiser Destiny, this is Captain Nathan Clancy, requesting hangar access for a..." He paused. "Social visit."

Whatever he expected, it wasn't a snort from a soft female voice that he didn't recognize. "I'll have to stop them from rolling out the red carpet. Captain, welcome back. Thanks for what you did on the Kalaverkash, my boyfriend was fighting on that ship, says you saved his bacon."

"My pleasure..."

"Lieutenant Janet James."

"Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Lieutenant."

"

Thank

you, Captain. Hangar bay five is open for you, I'll presume you know the way."

"That I do. See you in the mess hall, maybe."

"I'll get you a glass of...cream soda?"

"Whoa, bringing out the big guns." Nate laughed. They signed off.

He turned to see Ana with a raised eyebrow. "Flirting with the comms officer, Nate, really?"

"What?" Nate held his hands up. "I was just being polite."

"Sure," Ana kissed him, laughing. "I'm going to go put my clothes back on, I see the naked chef no longer holds your attention." She wiggled away, swaying those hips.

"Hate to see you go..." Nate muttered.

Isabelle pulled them into the hangar bay, through the lined blue forcefield, into the bright white lights, just one ship among many in the line of fighters, meka frames and drop-pods. He couldn't help but smile when he saw they already had a welcome party.

His boys.

The ramp opened too slowly.

And then he was swept up in a huge cluster of his squad, back thumped, feet parted from the ground as he was held high.

"The Cap is back!" Statten cried.

Levitsky damn near cracked his spine when he grabbed it. "

Captan!

"

"Welcome back, boss." Pelridge grinned, his arm around a pretty blonde — Clara.

"Alright, alright, settle down you savages." Nate choked out, breathing hard. "I hope you have better manners for my company."

"If they are anything like you, I fucking—holy shit." Statten cut himself off as he watched someone descend down the ramp.

The girls trailed down the ramp. Lunar was impassive. Cora scowled. Ana smiled, every bit the Princess.

"Princess!" came the surprised cry.

"Hello, boys." Ana raised a teasing eyebrow. "I hope you've been behaving well."

Nate thought he could hear one of his team gulp.

"Fuck's sake, guys, back off. Haven't you ever seen a girl before?" Mitsky shoved them back, the one Lops member of his company, the tall floppy ears as red as her face.

"Well, it's not like you count." Statten retorted.

That started an argument, which Nate just watched fondly.

"Just like old times, huh?" Pelridge murmured from his side.

"Damn straight. How's it going? Who is your boss now?"

"They merged us into Meier's squad — too big, but he's an alright sort."

Nate nodded. Meier was a good man.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked bluntly.

"Classified." Nate said apologetically. That wasn't entirely true — he'd sent a message to The Lady and not heard back, but he wasn't going to go about spreading panic with no evidence.

"You too, huh?" Dean smirked.

Nate frowned. "What do you mean?"

Clara tugged on Dean's arm, her smile wide as she interjected. "We had another 'classified' last week. Very mysterious, real interested in talking to your squad and none of the others, if you get me."

"Really."

"Kept asking questions about the Kalaverkash battle, too." Dean added.

"Did they?" Nate hummed.

"Still on the ship, you might meet them. Stay for dinner — we'll have a grand time. Levitsky's still got some of that awful homemade 'juice'."

"You heading towards the jubilee?" Nate said casually.

Dean snorted. "You're not fooling anyone, Cap. But yes, we are, playing bodyguard for the rich and famous."

"Boots on the ground?"

Dean nodded. "Boots on the ground. Far away from anyone we can actually talk to, but close enough that we got told to do a shoe shine this morning."

Nate winced. Not close enough to protect against what was coming. They could infiltrate too deep. He needed to get closer, but to do that, he needed to get there quicker.

"Well, it'd be rude to turn down an invite." Nate said. The squad cheered.

A red-shirt stepped up to them, uniform cleaned and pressed, every regulation accounted for. Nate watched him warily.

"Princess Anariel," He announced. "General Hall welcomes your presence on his ship and is delighted to shelter you for our journey to the Federation Jubilee. He requests your presence for dinner in his quarters this evening at nineteen hundred hours, and promises only the finest wine and food."

Ana sent him a squirming look. Nate shrugged. He didn't much like the look of that fat oaf getting his paws on his girl, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Rank was rank.

"I...would be honored." Ana said slowly.

The man smiled, bowed, retreated.

Ana pouted. "I'm sorry, gentleman — I was looking forward to dining with you all."

She brushed up against him. "Is it really rude to turn down an invite?" She murmured.

"We're on this ship for a while. You'll get plenty of time to dig stories out from my boys."

"Isn't this the General who—"

"The very same. A fool."

Ana's smile froze, hardened. "Well, we shall see what he has to say for himself."

"Ana," Nate warned. "I'm still Federation and he's still powerful."

"So am I." She said innocently. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, ignoring the whoops of his squad. "Go have fun with your boys."

Nate knew his smile was strained.

###

The mess hall cheered when he walked in, as loud as ever, that buzz of voices mixing with clattering cutlery and laughter. Faces pressed forward, hands to shake, proud eyes which he liked, solemn eyes which he didn't.

"Sergeant Maslany woulda shaked your hand if she could, so I'm doing it for her."

"Thank you, Cap, I was fucking dead to rights."

"I know you tried, but man, one minute earlier..."

"Thought I was a goner, truth be—"

"Psychopath shit, brother, but I kinda like it."

Once he'd smiled and pressed through the crowds, his squad swarmed around him, protecting him and guiding him to their table. A tray of the finest Federation slop slapped down in front of him.

Nate groaned. "Beef and gravy night?"

Pelridge roared with laughter. "It's beef when you don't ask questions." His squad chorused.

"That old joke," Nate laughed. He took a spoonful. More salt than the sea, just as he remembered. "Maybe Ana is better off with the red shirts."

"First name terms with the Princess, huh?" Clara teased. "Something we should know?"

Nate rolled his eyes. "I should be asking you that, you too. Fraternization between officers?"

"We're not in the same unit!" Clara defended.

"Are you really telling me your commanding officer hasn't said anything to you?" He raised his eyebrow.

Clara blushed.

Pelridge gave her a surprised look. "You didn't tell me anything?"

"It wasn't anything to worry about." Clara frowned. "It's just meka girls have a spotlight so it was just a heads up."

"Half the meka girls have boyfriends, it's fine." Natalia sat down with a thump. "Hiya, Cap."

He gave her a warm smile. "Nate, please. How are you doing? Hope my boys haven't been too much of a bunch of horndogs."

She pulled an errant black lock over her ear and grinned. "They backed off after I told 'em I wouldn't run air support for them no more."

Nate clinked glasses with her — watery lemonade. "Didn't you tell me you owed me a drink?"

The beautiful meka pilot raised an unimpressed brow. "I said we could get a drink, hotshot."

"Oh." He snorted. "And around here, all we can get is watery lemonade? Even my boys have a stash, I bet you meka pilots have the

real

good stuff."

Natalia looked around shiftily. "I can neither confirm nor deny."

"Can't you get out the good stuff for the hero of the hour?" Pelridge asked.

"We will, when we see him." Natalia shot back.

"Ouch," Nate said good-naturedly.

"Will drinks get this hero to write me back?" She jabbed.

"Ouch," He winced. "Did I not?"

"Too busy entertaining royalty, I'm sure."

"I...uh," He ran his hand through his hair. "I have no excuses. How can I make it up to you?"

She squinted in amusement — she had the most holo-movie star face Nate had ever seen, wide coral eyes, dimpled smile, sleek black hair, like a witch from early mythology, only instead of magic she controlled lethal death robots. "Tell me why you're going to the biggest party in the galaxy — didn't take you much for shindigging."

He affected the most innocent look he could. "Honestly, I'm really just going to dance."

A familiar sultry voice from behind. "One hopes you have space for me on your dance card."

Nate half-turned to see The Lady, body as curvy as those red locks, the woman stepping straight out of a graphic novel. She sidled into the bench beside him, brushing against him.

He swallowed. "Of course...?"

"Jenny." Her smile was teasing.

"Jenny?" He tested it out on his lips. "Is that your name?" His eyebrow high.

"Why?" She shook out her long hair, splaying it behind her. Natalia watched, confused. "Don't I look like a Jenny?"

"No," He said honestly. "You don't."

Her mouth opened in mock-horror as she stole a green bean from his plate. "Gods, that's awful. Did they fry it twice?" Anyway, this party, do you know what the agenda is like? It's all the gossip."

She was smiling but her eyes had hardened. Nate paused. "Well...I'm sure there will be fireworks." He thought for a moment. "A party crasher or two or twenty."

'Jenny' hummed. "I do hope that security is suitably equipped. Maybe you'll be able to help them out, if you're not too busy—" she raised an elegant eyebrow as she tapped his bread roll, testing how hard it was— "dancing?"

"I'm sure I'll be able to help. You'll be playing the horrified damsel, will you?"

"Do you two know each other?" Natalia interjected, face sullen. Jenny ignored her, dabbing at her lipstick. "Well, without a date, I'm not sure I can be in the inner core of the party like you, but I'll be preying on the young men in the courtyard."

"Or not so young—" Nate advised, knowing what she was talking about.

"Excuse me, I think you're in my seat." It was Ana, face tight, smile polite.

"Forgive me, Princess." The Lady bowed her head and slipped away, heels tapping on the floor.

"Ana!" Nate said.

Her smile turned warm as she settled in elegantly next to him, pinching the skirt of her dress up to climb in, always the Princess.

"I'm afraid I had to profess a mild stomachache to the good General." Ana blushed. She turned her head, meeting the eyes of the squad, seeing the departing Natalia. "After all, I believe last time I missed a supposedly legendary party?"

The table was stunned for a moment. Pelridge broke into an almighty cheer and soon the table was shaking.

Nate just admired his charming girl, her smile impish as she took his hand under the table.

###

A week later, they arrived. It was a happy week, spent recovering in the tender affections of his girls. Ana, who switched regularly and with alarming ease from his demure submissive Princess to a somewhat militant queen of his girls. Lunar had turned into a solemn bodyguard — she'd block the corridors of the ship, protect him from overeager ensigns, hold the doorways of whatever room he was in; though she couldn't hide her delight when he ran a leg up that shapely thigh, underneath her battle skirt.

He grew to know her more — the duality of the flames that stoked her: her shame and her sexuality. Her joy at being claimed, at having a Kyrios, her sadness at feeling unable to return to her people. Nate had not been foolish enough to promise her redemption, but he'd promised himself that he'd try to achieve it. She deserved that much.