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  Falling Stars

  A short work in the Epsilon universe

  by

  Erin M. Klitzke

  Taliesin Ambrose Books

  Copyright 2011 Erin M. Klitzke

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Falling Stars

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Epilogue

  Extras

  Epsilon: Broken Stars excerpt

  About the Author

  Dedication

  The first one, as always, to my family and friends, who supported me when no one else would.

  Falling Stars

  A novelette of the Epsilon universe

  1

  “Ah Captain Anders, welcome to station Beta-17.”

  In my life, I've known a multitude of people. Some have given a damn about me. Some haven't. It doesn't matter much to me anymore -- not like it used to. As time passed and I grew up, I realized that there were more important things to life than people actually caring about you as a person.

  Like getting the job done.

  I saluted the man sharply and held it for a moment. “Thank you, Colonel.”

  He gestured for me to stand at ease. “I trust the flight in wasn’t too tiring?”

  For the past five years, I've forced myself to forget everyone and everything I've ever cared about for the sake of my job. That's fine, because everyone and everything I've ever cared about is dead -- they all died when my home was destroyed. But that was a long time ago. All I care about now is getting my job done. That’s my life, my story. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve created, including my identity, centered around that. Getting the job done, one way or another.

  I became a starfighter pilot at a young age, but I didn't become a great starfighter pilot until I stopped caring about whether I lived or died and started caring more about the mission rather than myself. It made sense at the time.

  That was about to change, but I didn’t know it yet.

  “It was a long flight, sir, but not too tiring. When will I get to meet Major Winchester?” I've done solo ops for so long, I don't know what it's like to fly with anyone else anymore. That's why my new assignment is so tough. They're asking me to start flying the dropships for our ground troopers. Command said that they want me to do it because I'm the best damned ace they've got, and only an ace can get these guys in and out alive. I'm not sure if I believe it, but orders are orders, and I haven't made it a habit to disobey my superiors. Considering that this life is all I have left, it's not a good idea to do anything to jeopardize what I've built. So I won't.

  “Right now.” He pointed toward a door at the far end of the hangar. “Up the door, take a left. Name’s on the door.”

  I saluted Colonel Finneas March again and waited for his gesture of dismissal before I walked away, to the door and down the hall. I wished I wasn’t nervous about this new assignment, but I was. I’m not strong enough not to be, or distant enough. I wish I was. It would make my life easier.

  I lifted my hand to rap on the door to the unit commander's office. I'd heard that this unit was a particularly tight one, and better than most -- sort of like me, I guess, except they actually knew how to play well with others, something I tended to lack. They were a group of specialists, the documents told me, some paratroopers, some heavily specialized in this and that.

  I'm yet another specialist to add to their cadre, I suppose, I thought. I exhaled a breath and knocked on the door, only to hear a muffled "come in" from beyond. I pushed open the door and slid inside. "Major Winchester?"

  The man behind the desk was broad-shouldered and tall, even seated. He glanced up from his writing and looked at me. “Can I help you with something?”

  I saluted him, waiting for him to return the gesture. “Captain Catherine Anders, late of the thirty-second air wing.”

  He motioned for me to relax. “So you’re our new pilot. Your personnel file is somewhere in that pile over there. I glanced through it. Noticed you’re a solo ace. Why’d you take this assignment?”

  I eyed him a moment. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  “Always.”

  I shrugged. “Command asked me to, sir. I couldn’t well say no. My superiors made it very clear to me that your unit, sir, needed someone of my caliber in order to continue in your duties.” You know, most units would be happy to pick up an ace fighter jock as their chauffer, no questions asked. So what’s with the third degree here?

  Winchester nodded thoughtfully, getting up from his chair and neatly stacking the pile of papers he was working on before bending over and slipping it into a drawer. He was as tall as I had assumed he was, his black hair cropped short. He walked over to me and extended his hand. “I’m Kiros Winchester--most of the team calls me Kir.”

  His calloused hand dwarfed my own as I shook it. “Catherine Anders--calsign, Cat.”

  Winchester nodded. “I saw that in your file. A loner, eh?”

  “Better not to leave anyone behind if I go, if you catch my meaning, sir. I’m sure it’s noted in my file that my social skills are somewhat lacking.”

  He half smiled. “It is noted. I wouldn’t worry about it too much--this unit doesn’t have much in the way of those sorts of skills and graces, either. You’ll fit in fine.”

  If you say so, sir. “Of course, sir. I haven’t received my barrack assignment or duty schedule yet. I was lead to believe you would have those for me.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Of course. Give me a moment to find them. They’re in a drawer someplace.” He turned back toward his desk and moved to it. He rifled through drawers, looking for the documents for me. “So, you’re from Gattica Province?”

  I felt myself tense up at the mention of home. I couldn’t hear the words Gattica Province without remembering the carnage and devastation of its destruction. Of the population of a quarter of a million people, only several hundred had survived--most of those in the service and thus far away from the province when it died. The province had ceased to exist in one day and one night of fire and terror--at least, that’s what the talking heads on the vid said. I’d never been able to bring myself to go back there, to Gattica, after it died. It hurt too much, then. It was pointless now. “Yes, sir. I grew up there.”

  “We have a couple of brothers from Gattica in the unit--my second-in-command and our sniper/logistics man. I’ll introduce you after--ah-ha! Found them.” He came up with a manila folder, which he handed to me. “That should be all the information you need. You answer to me and to Colonel March, the base commander. I assume you’ve met him?”

  I nodded, thumbing through the folder. After a moment, I tucked the folder under my arm--all it contained were the standard fare for a new assignment, including a bunk assignment and my duty schedule. “Who do my briefings come from?”

  “Either myself or the colonel. Most of the time, I’ll be the one handling your briefings. The colonel usually likes to remain fairly ignorant of the unit’s activities--he claims it’s safer that way.” W
inchester grabbed a jacket hanging on the back of his chair and shrugged it on. “C’mon with me, I’ll introduce you to the unit.”

  He seems like a decent enough guy, I thought as I followed Winchester to another section of the base, this section obviously given over to the units housed there--in this case, the only unit housed there, the Iron Vipers under Major Kiros Winchester.

  We stopped in front of a wide doorway. He motioned down the hall. “You’ll have private quarters down that way. I didn’t see a reason to subject you to the squad 24-7.” Winchester jerked a thumb toward the door we stood in front of. “This is home for us. The bunkroom doubles as a rec room. Briefing room is down at the end of the hall; showers too. Mess is back the way we came.” He grinned, a flash of white against dark flesh. “Ready?”

  I shrugged. “As I’ll ever be. Lead on, sir.”

  He nodded and pushed open the door. Inside, I could see the various member of the Iron Vipers, some reclining on bunks, some at a table playing cards, a few more at computer terminals or flipping channels on the vid unit. “Over there by the vid are Dale Varras and Marissa Conrad. Tasha Lin is the one on the terminal there, the other one is Todd Pelas. Liv James, Jack Linstrom, and Mikhal Carrey are over there with the deck of cards, Jen Peters and Pat Levine are the two there...” Winchester frowned a moment, then glanced up at one of the soldiers sitting on their bunks. “Hey, Pat, where’s the XO?”

  The man Winchester spoke to, a blonde sitting on one of the