The Orchard

Rear Commander Gibson was proud of her job and the people under her command.

That was not a guarantee she wouldn’t kill someone before this trip was over.

Two weeks trapped in a ship, traveling to another dimension was proving the greatest challenge of her life.

When they first got aboard, the android assigned to Squad Three sat down in their chair and promptly said: “You know where my on button is if you need me.”

And powered down.

Lucky bastard.

At least Michaels had gotten sick of saying ‘are we there yet’, every hour, on the hour.

Kader had spent a lifetime dealing with nonsense from people who thought they knew best. ADVENT, his parents, his former agent back when he was doing modeling, the senate…this though, this threw him for a loop. 

He tried to contain his laughter without much success.

“Wh-what do you want me to do about it? She isn’t my kid.” Here he was, five minutes before a meeting with Nutrivend talking about a teenager’s choice of clothing. Sally’s tastes ran tacky, sure, but at least she was happy.

He listened, barely able to comprehend what he was hearing. 

In addition to attending meetings Weir couldn’t be bothered with, he was apparently now also responsible for hearing people complain about his daughter. It was plain annoying, and it rubbed him the wrong way. Sally was a good kid.

“Alright, I’ll be sure to forward her a fashion magazine. Have a wonderful day, ma’am.” Kader ended the call. He used the last few minutes before the meeting to look into the PR department. He was sure they only wanted to do their job, but goddamn if he wasn’t getting flashbacks to his agent.

“Look, if you want to change it–”

“We have no reason to.”

Bradford turned down the volume on the TV as the grav ball game went to commercial.

“This is going to blow your mind, but sometimes you don’t need reasons to do things,” he said.

“I know that.” Will munched on a pretzel, frowning at the taste. The store was out of the kind they usually got.

Bradford would tell him he didn’t have to eat them if he didn’t want to, but knew that would turn into another mini argument. 

He understood. He did. Hell, Bradford still had a thing about making sure he knew exactly where the meat on his table came from, and insisted on keeping the heater running in the winter even if it drove up the electric bill.

“What if I want to renovate?” Bradford tangled his fingers in Will’s wavy hair.

“Why would you? You love the way this place looks.” Will leaned against him, closing his eyes. 

“I want a pool table. We don’t have room for one,” Bradford said.

“Remember the last time we played pool together?…and the time before that, or any other time we ever competed against each other?”

Bradford smiled at the memory.

“You’re not making a good argument against it,” he said.

“Sally might object.”

“I guess so, but speaking of our daughter, I think she’s been trying to convince Currer to destroy the kitchen wall for you.” The game came back on. Bradford turned the volume back up.

“Why the hell would she do that?” Will asked.

“Give you an excuse to renovate,” Bradford said.

“It was a joke!”

“You should know Sally takes you too seriously.“ Bradford winced as the Wildcats scored another goal. “The only way to stop her now is to renovate before she teaches your dog the destructive trait.”

Will laughed so hard he almost fell off the couch.

“Was that a Sims reference, old man?”

Bradford lightly shoved him.

Will caught himself with one arm before he could fall. He shuffled back up to Bradford, and placed a soothing kiss on his cheek, still chuckling.

“You know–” Will made himself comfortable again “–I was trying to shut Sally’s argument down with the whole renovation, but she’s going to have the last laugh when I call the contractor tomorrow.”

“Can’t have her teaching the dog bad habits,” Bradford said.

“…Unless I send Currer to a spa until this whole thing blows over and she forgets.”

“Will.”

“This is a goddamn robbery!”

Sally screwed the lid back on the jar of dog treats.

Currer, ears flat against his head ate from his dish.

Sally hurried to the door as the doorbell rang again.

Section Commander Kader stood on the other side. His jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Hello, Sally.” He smiled. “Is Weir home?”

“Yes, we destroyed a goddamn highway. We destroyed the goddamn highway protecting this goddamn city from goddamn aliens. Including your goddamn headquarters!”

Kader’s eyes went passed Sally and towards the hallway the very Australian voice drifted down.

“He’s talking with Lydia,” Sally said.

Kader winced. He might not know what exactly that meant. He didn’t know anyone at Transtellar named Lydia, but he had picked up the context clue over the years.

“I was hoping to get to him before they called.” He put a hand to his mouth. “Think about your blood pressure, sir!”

“SHUT UP, KADER!”

“Think he’d let me take the phone?” he asked.

“Don’t count on it.” 

Currer came up behind Sally. He sniffed the air. Only to run away when he smelled Kader’s cologne.

“Fine! Terminate the goddamn service! I’m sick of you people anyway!”

Kader cringed, but managed to clear his expression by the time Weir emerged from his office.

“We still have a Valkyrie, don’t we?” Weir asked

“Mothballed.” Kader rubbed his jaw.

“Tell Williams he’s a delivery boy until Transtellar comes to their senses.”

“I could call my mother, sir, maybe she can–”

Sally darted out of the way. She sat down beside Currer in the sitting room.

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

–

Bradford exited the parking garage as Kader entered.

“Evening, Chief.” Kader did not attempt to stop him for small talk this time around. 

Bradford watched him jump in his hovercar and fly away at what he suspected was over the speed limit.

He went up to his apartment. There, he found Sally curled up on the couch watching TV with a tub of ice cream he didn’t think they had before he left for work that morning.

“Lydia called and another Lydia came over.” Sally gestured with her spoon. “Will ordered take out.”

Why wasn’t he surprised?

“It’s Saturday,” Will said, digging into the carton of ice cream.

“You have to speak in front of the senate in an hour,” John informed him as though Will wasn’t already well aware. “You have to leave in eight minutes.”

“No point in getting ready now, then. I guess I’m not going.” 

“You’re going.” John reached down to lift Currer off of him, waking the dog in the process. He gave a quiet bark and darted out of the room.

“How dare you.” Will tried to maneuver away to prevent John from taking his ice cream too, but only succeeded in rolling off the couch. “Oomph.”

“You’ve got four minutes to shower and dress. Move, move, move.”

Will collected himself off the floor.

“Supreme Commander! I wasn’t expecting you!” Kader tried smoothing his hair down, but it bounced back into odd angles.

“Did my arrival interrupt your beauty sleep?” Weir opened another box with the Nutrivend logo printed on the side.

Kader had the decency to blush.  

“I was just preparing for the Marsec negotiations, sir. I need to be well rested for that.”

“Nice save,” Weir said. He noted the contents of the box–variety potato chips–and closed it back up.

“Might I ask what we’re doing in the storeroom, sir?” Kader asked after a minute of silence.

“I was inspired to moonlight as a food inspector,” Weir answered. “I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“Food inspector?” Kader tilted his head, staring at him.

“All of this is perishable goods,” Weir said.

“Yes, sir,” Kader defaulted in the way military people do when they don’t follow, but know better than to start asking questions.

Weir tapped his fingers against the counter.

“What happens if there’s a siege?”

“Are…are we expecting a siege?” He smiled.

“Work with me, Section Commander.”

Kader chewed over his words before responding.

“I could draw up a new contract with Nutrivend. See if they have goods with longer shelf life.”

“Make sure the food lasts no less than three years,” Weir said, picking up his tablet. “Better yet, contract them for research into meals that can be used in long deployments without spoiling or requiring cooking.”

MREs weren’t a thing these days. The best they had was nutrient paste. While that would do the job, no one in their right mind liked the stuff. Food that doesn’t taste like grass and sawdust blended together could go a long way towards keeping morale up during an op.

“I’m not sure we can afford-”

“I’ll find the money, Kader. See that’s done. Mega-Primus will be the test bed for it,” Weir said.

“Yes, sir.”

Weir looked around. Not a single box of Jell-O. You couldn’t call your food stores complete unless there was Jell-O.

“Sir?” Kader prompted.

“What is it?”

“Are you expecting something?” he asked.

“Good morning, sir!”

Weir was too professional to try and jump out the nearest window, but boy did he want to.

“Section Commander Kader,” Weir greeted. It was only decades of practice that kept the annoyance out of his voice. He looked over at Mike and gave them a glare he hoped conveyed the question, ‘why didn’t you warn me?’

The android either didn’t get it or pretended not to notice.

“I’m shocked to see you up and about so early,” Weir continued. Kader never went to work before noon. 8 AM was unheard of thus far, but here he was, dressed and polished as always. The expensive cologne he wore was already giving Weir a headache after only a minute in his presence. 

“I seem to be having trouble getting you in a meeting, so I thought I would drop by before the day got too busy,” Kader said with his politician’s smile.

‘Any day I don’t have to deal with you or your parents is a blessed day,’ was what Weir wanted to say.

“If it’s about Transtellar, I said all I needed to say in the memo and the four e-mail clarifications I wrote to you,” Weir said instead. “I hardly think a meeting is necessary.”

“But, sir, their request isn’t an unreasonable one! Putting fewer armaments on our attack crafts would vastly reduce the amount of damage to the city,” Kader said. It was nothing Weir hadn’t already heard from the Senate and from Transtellar themselves. He didn’t need this from someone who was supposed to be on his side. Goddamn nepotism. 

“Oh, I see,” Weir said.“Let the UFO’s land and deposit aliens to body-snatch our people. Wonderful idea, Section Commander, I ought to give you a pay raise for these fantastic ideas.”

A flush rose to Kader’s cheeks.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.

“Then what did you mean? I haven’t got all day.”

Mike chimed up, “meeting with the chief quantum physicist in ten minutes.”

Weir gestured at Mike as if to say, ‘see’. 

“I just…” Kader took a breath. “The disrupters we’re using on our craft are too destructive and our pilots are clearly too inaccurate. We need something more elegant.”

“What, like a lightsaber?”

“Sir?”

“Star Wars, a film released in 1977 that gain worldwide acclaim. A lightsaber was a weapon used in the film similar to our power swords.”

“Thank you, Mike,” Weir said. God, did he feel old. He saw a New Hope in theaters.

Kader frowned.

“I don’t think power swords would help our air defense, sir.”

“Oh, you never know, we can tape a few to the tops and have our crafts ram the enemy,” Weir said.

Kader smiled the smile of someone who wasn’t sure if the other person was joking.

“I was actually hoping to discuss the viability of modifying the toxigun for our Hawkes,” he said.

“A wonderful idea, Section Commander!”

“Thank you, sir,” Kader said, looking pleased with himself.

“So wonderful in fact, I started looking into it the minute we were successfully producing Type As several months ago.”

He deflated.

“Is there anything else?” Weir asked. He had a meeting to get to. So much for reviewing his notes before then.

“My father-”

“That was a rhetorical question. If there is anything else, you know how to make an appointment.” Weir turned around and left, his briefcase still in his hand. He never even had a chance to get into his office. “Good day, Section Commander!”

“But-”

The door slammed in Kader’s face. He sighed and turned to Mike who hadn’t moved from their desk the whole time.