The Dead Fleet (Juggernaut #3)

Forty Four

My mother?

Her mother was gone. Lost to the disaster on the Rising Star. The curtain of death, twelve years removed, had brought down that that uncrossable barrier between them. This couldn't be her. Her mother was younger, had longer hair, wore a uniform and commanded a starship. She commanded the entire colony mission.

Her mother was a towering figure or gentle authority. A partner to her father. A model to be followed. A voice to be obeyed. She was comfort and peace and safety.

Before her stood a soldier. A warrior. A woman armed and armoured for battle. A killer. Their saviour.

The face was different, but in it Tila still saw the qualities and featured she remembered. The hair was shorter but fell the same way. Her eyes were the same deep brown, only now they were edged with lines. She stood the same. She sounded the same.

My mother?

Tila opened her mouth but had nothing to say. What could she say?

A thousand light years away Ellie gasped softly and clapped her hands over her mouth just like she always did when something shocked her. Tila knew Ellie would be looking to Malachi for an answer. Ellie still fell easily into the habit of believing Malachi knew everything, despite what he told her. But he didn't know the answer to this. Tila knew Malachi would be thinking hard about this new revelation, absorbing all the data, trying to control for all the variables, and then carefully revealing his conclusion. But how would he account for this?

Tila knew her friends. She knew how they thought, how they reacted, what they would likely do next. They had spent years together, endured hardships together, shared joys and created memories together. They were her family.

Until this moment they were her only family.

It had been twelve years since Tila had last seen her parents as she skipped from the bridge of the colony ship, stuffed bear in hand. The last image of her mother had been her waving from the bridge of the Rising Star as Tila ascended in the glass elevator, still demanding that her mother find her.

That image had stayed with her, haunted her, driven her, and molded her. In that moment her old life remained, preserved forever. Her new life had been born in fire. The last words spoken to her had been by her mother. The last thing Tila had seen was the face of her mother.

The same face she saw before her now.

And she had kept her promise.

She blinked. Once. Twice. She tried to say something but the words vanished in her throat. What could she say to the woman she had last seen when she had been a little girl? Tila was a woman herself now, surely she could say something that felt right in the moment.

Tila said the words, but it was the little girl who spoke. It wasn't a question, it was an answer full of relief. Of disbelief. Of heartbreak.

'You came back.'

And then she was safe again, wrapped in loving arms. Nothing had changed. As long as she was held like this she was the child again, safe and protected. A hand on the back of her head, cradling her. Her mother's stray hairs tickling her cheek. The warmth of the embrace. The solidity of the figure next to her. The realness.

She was safe again. Her mother had come back for her.

At the same time is was different to before. Tila was taller now, and they stood face to face. The last time they had done this her mother had been able to pick her up.

Her mother was different too. She was leaner somehow, and her clothes were different. The practical fabrics she had worn on the bridge of the Rising Star had gone. In their place was protective padding and body armour. Instead of clips in her hair she wore a headset. In place of a necklace she had a microphone. Over her shoulder was slung a two handed laser carbine, and a large pistol was holstered against one thigh. A hand weapon was strapped to the other thigh. She was dressed for combat, not command.

It was her mother, but not entirely the mother she remembered.

Her mother was speaking again. It was the voice of a ghost made real

'Tila, please, we don't have time.'

The past faded like early morning mist in sunshine.

'It's you?'

'Yes, Tila, it's me, it's really me.' She put a hand to her daughter's face stoked the wetness from her cheek with a thumb. 'I'm sorry Tila, but I can't explain anything now. There's no time. We have to go.'

'Go where?'

'We have to leave this place.'

'But, where did you go? Where have you been?' Tila said.

'There was an accident, I was hurt.'

Tila pulled her mother's hands down.

'You didn't come back. Why didn't you come back?'

'I wanted to. I tried. I couldn't find you. I didn't know to look for you. The casualty list... There was so much confusion. So many were lost. I was told you were one of them. I didn't know you... I...' She paused and squeezed Tila's hands in her own. 'I didn't know you were alive.'

Tila felt a familiar small hand on her arm. 'Tila,' said a small voice, 'Are you okay?'

'It's really me, honey,' said her mother.

'But... why? How?' Tila began.

'Later. I promise. More answers are coming. First I need to know who your friends are.'

'I'm Ellie,' said Ellie, 'And this is Mal. Malachi.'

Malachi offered his hand for a bewildered handshake. He had no idea what to make of this.

'Malachi Chambers,' he said. 'And you're Tila's mother?'

Ellie moved out of the way as Malachi greeted the woman and looked her up and down. She looked a bit like Tila, she acknowledged, but better dressed.

'You can call me Grace,' said the woman.

Ellie noted the black outfit, the weapons, the way Grace carried herself with trained confidence. It was all very familiar. The question came out of nowhere.

'Why are you dressed like an agent?' said Ellie.