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Chapter 8: Celia and Company

If Ron had discovered anything in his research findings about my impending guests, then he kept that information to himself. He didn’t call me back and he had a corporal answer his holo-vid for him. Ron also volunteered to drive Celia and her two traveling companions with him out to my farm from wherever they would land. At least I now knew how many to expect for lunch.

I decided to make lunch. I also changed into a shirt and pants that I had delivered ASAP from the computerized catalogue order department of one of the casino guest services stores (amazing how they kept in business so soon after a major attack). I had just finished buttoning the shirt when Rollo sounded his ‘Strangers and someone I know are coming’ alarm3. I tucked in the shirt tail - awkwardly – and went out to the gate to greet my lunch guests.

Rollo dutifully knew that it was alright to allow these people to advance by the unfamiliar way in which I hurried out of the house to meet them. (Stumbled out is more like it.) I’m still no animal psychologist, but by the way Rollo cocked his head to the side as he took in my new mode of dress and action, it almost seemed to me that he was amused at knowing more about my situation than I knew; he had sort of a “glad I’m not in your new shoes” look about him, and I could swear he was chuckling.

Ron had driven an enclosed hovercraft to the front gate. I glanced back at Rollo to judge his reaction to the absence of tires. Rollo seemed perplexed as he cocked his head to the other side, but still more interested (or amused) in me and my behavior. How did my giant chicken know that strangers and Ron were inside? How did I know that he knew? I’d have to think about that later.

The hovercraft had come to a rather noisy stop in a cloud of dust ten yards in front of me. I almost sprinted the remaining distance to it, only remembering at the last moment to open the gate instead of leaping over it. It suddenly occurred to me that I was more than anxious to see Celia, and the curiosity of discovering whom she’d brought with her made my heart race even faster. I tried to compose myself and my new unfamiliar clothes that were getting dusty as the vehicle idled down. I can only guess that the shit eating grin on my face told volumes about me to my mystery guests. Ron swung open the driver’s door and stepped out. My grin told volumes to him.

“Colonel Johansson?” he overemphasized as he stood at attention. “I am pleased to introduce to you the lovely Mrs. Celia Scott, her consort Ms. Rebecca D. DeMilo, and the young Master Jeremy Scott, esq.” Ron thought he was being witty; my grin became a frown.

The first person to exit the hovercraft from the passenger side was a pretty young teenage girl smartly dressed in a white summer dress decorated with blue flowers and sensible light blue canvas shoes. Her brown hair was pulled up on her head, and she carried a large black leather handbag that she immediately slung over her left shoulder as she simultaneously donned a pair of black sunglasses. Her bearing marked her as a military brat, possibly a nanny. Although I didn’t know her well enough at that point to draw such a conclusion, I can tell you that it was spot on. I also felt an instant dislike for her, but I don’t know why.

The young lady turned to assist a five year old boy out of the vehicle. He had tightly cropped black hair and wore fatigue pants and a brown t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of the Earth football team West Ham United. His shoes were miniature army boots. Rebecca quickly switched the young man’s left hand into her right hand, closed the front passenger door, opened the back door and stood there to assist Celia while juggling the black bag and the child. Jeremy wiped his nose on his sleeve while he surveyed me, the farm, and, finally, Rollo on his perch. Rollo occupied his complete attention while the child remained outside.

An ebony cane appeared from under the hovercraft door. Then a prosthetic right leg hit the ground awkwardly. It took half a minute before the crippled left leg of Celia Scott came to rest beside its plastic counterpart, and then was quickly hidden from view by a cascade of pink cloth. Rebecca released Jeremy momentarily and used both arms to assist Celia to her feet. A large pink sun hat poked above the opened door. Then, with a Scott on each arm, Rebecca led her charges around to where I had a clear view of them. Ron closed the hovercraft doors with the remote switch.

Celia looked magnificent. Her battle scars took nothing away from her cheery disposition and the kindliness that radiated from her face. Her eyes commanded my attention; they were hazel and brilliantly shiny. She smiled broadly as she made her way toward me, noticeably limping; the cane in her pink gloved left hand. I smiled dully back to her. Celia had chosen a long flowing pink gown. It covered her legs, which, I assumed (wrongly) were an embarrassment to her. She was in the bloom of youth. Twenty one, as I was, and as radiant a beauty as I had ever seen. It was quite possible that my recollections of her clouded my judgment, but not entirely. As she stepped before me, I couldn’t help but bow slightly to greet her.

“Welcome to my humble farm,” I said stupidly. “It’s a . . . well, I . . . you look wonderful.” Celia blushed. I also blushed like the babbling idiot that I had become.

“We should go inside,” Rebecca ordered. “This oppressive sun isn’t good for madam or the young master.” I clumsily ushered them inside the gate. Ron sidled up beside me.

“Take it easy, Jimmy,” he whispered in my left ear. I cringed. “She’s not the blessed Queen of England, you know. Relax. You’ll scare them off if you keep this enamored act up.” I had to agree.

I trotted ahead of my guests and held the front door open for them. Celia gave me a killer smile as she crossed the threshold followed by a scowling Rebecca and the mesmerized Jeremy who had to be dragged in as he still had his eyes on Rollo. Ron took the door from me and followed me in.

“Please, have a seat,” I offered as I indicated the only five odd chairs that I owned. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve put lunch on the table. It’s just chicken and some greens, but the bread is especially good. We have an excellent bakery in Kaletown.”

“I’m sure you do,” Celia smiled. I became uneasy; I noticed that I was unconsciously rubbing the back of my neck. My guests sat and I brought out soft drinks for everyone. Celia was making small talk about “what a cozy little place” and “such a charming Spartan existence” and other such minimally insulting things that people who feel out of place say to occupy themselves as they grope for things to talk about. I wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. Ron solved that problem.

“Perhaps we should all eat,” Ron suggested. “It’s not long until the Colonel and I have to deploy on our next mission.”

“Yes,” Celia agreed. “Let’s eat. We can catch up as much as possible between bites before you have to go.” The party moved to the kitchen table. We moved the chairs in from the living room and sat before my five odd place settings. Any more guests and I would be using overturned buckets and carving boards. The lunch conversation went strangely, but then, I have no similar situations in my experience to compare to it.

“So,” I ventured after everyone had been served, “What have you been doing since we lost touch with each other?” I cringed immediately. I had already forgotten about her wounds and the unwritten code of Wilson’s World. Celia took it in stride.

“When you last saw me, I was being sent back to Delphi for a spell,” she tittered. Her voice was like music to me. I wondered why. “After three years of mostly waiting for a deployment, I met Colonel Scott. He was the base commander at New Fort Dix on DZ 3. Turns out, he’d had his eye on me since a visit of his to our basic training camp years before. He just wanted to meet me on his own terms; such a shy and humble boy of a man.” She giggled. “It was he who had me assigned to the Beta sector limbo. Well, I won’t go into the details of our courtship, he was thirty-ish and I was sixteen. Two years later we were married and off to the Delta sector.

“Well, this came to that; I got pregnant right away and John, my husband, ordered me to stay at home while he went off to fight the enemy. He was such a brave soul. He died defending the Delta sector eight months after our wedding. He’s never seen Jeremy.” She paused as if to fight back tears. “I won’t bore you with further details and regrets. However, I did lose my leg four years later doing my part for the defense of the sector. I was offered a hardship discharge and a wounded soldier’s honorable discharge on the same day. I took the honorable way out.” She giggled again. “If only they had offered me the hardship a week sooner – not like I’d had more hardship than anyone else - well, you know the military, ‘Hurry up and wait’. I guess I’m lucky that they even realized that I was eligible for either discharge at any time.” More giggling.

“To make a long story short, or a short story long, Colonel Scott had something of a fortune he’d inherited from his family. Since Jeremy was the sole offspring and heir, it all fell to us/him. In the first few years I hired nannies and butlers and all sorts of other people to help me keep my mind off my losses while I shut myself up in a huge house on New Eden. None of that worked to lessen my depression; only time with my son gave me any joy.

“Well, I finally found religion, and I’ve been keeping myself busy touring the galaxy, offering aid and comfort, and raising my precocious son. It’s only been the three of us for the past two years. We were between mercy missions when the big attack came.” She didn’t want to expand on that subject either. “We get around so much that it’s been impossible to keep up with anyone. So, how have you been?”

I was overawed. “I’ve been . . . fine. I guess; just farming and tours of duty flying with the Wildmen defending the system; nothing exciting or worthwhile like what you’re doing.”

“Don’t put what you’re doing down,” Celia warned me. “Our finest citizens do less than half that; I’m sure even those sticks-in-the-mud still on Earth are no better. If it wasn’t for the military, well, I wouldn’t be a fraction as fortunate as I am today. Come now; tell us where you’ve been and what you’ve done.”

I blushed. “I’ve been here the whole time and I’ve done just what I told you I’ve done. I farm and I fly a fighter craft, or, used to fly, on the USS Wildman.”

“I thought you said you were a Colonel in charge of some ground outfit,” Rebecca suddenly inserted.

“I told you that,” Ron rescued. “The Colonel here has just recently been promoted and transferred by General Josten. He’s been assigned to the Rough Riders.”

Celia lit up. “General Josten? Do you mean, Eric Josten?” I nodded, but stuffed my mouth with chicken sandwich to avoid answering.

“You didn’t tell me that Ricky was here,” Celia seemed to be admonishing all of us in her sudden state of elation. “Well, I would just love to see him again. I had quite a crush on him during basic. He always seemed to be the focus of whatever was going on.” She turned to Rebecca, “He had the cutest way of wrinkling his nose when he had something serious to say.” She giggled again.

“I think I can arrange a meeting,” I said without thinking. Ron gave me a dirty look. “Look, I’m due back aboard ship in about an hour. I’ll call the General and see if he can tear himself away from business for a brief encounter.” I stood up and left the table to go to the holo-vid. My inexplicable anxiety towards Celia had miraculously vanished. Ron got up and joined my there.

“You seem to have changed course abruptly,” Ron whispered to me. “Jealous?”

I had no immediate reply as I dialed the General’s direct line. “She’s an old friend. We never had anything between us, and she wants to see another old friend. Enough said.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Ron hissed. “I musta been blinded by that torch you’re carrying.” He went back to finish his lunch.

“James!” the holo-vid joyously greeted me before I could formulate a response to Ron’s accurate summation of my behavior. “To what do I owe this fortuitous interruption? And, do tell me in as many words as possible; I need a break from these military proceedings more than you could ever guess.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you, Eric,” I said sociably. “Do you remember Celia from basic?”

Eric rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment and muttered, “Celia. Celia. Oh! That cute girl you used to hang out with all the time. Yes, I remember her. What? Have you heard from her or something?”

“Better than that,” I have no idea why I said that. “She and her family are here having lunch with me as we speak. She’s expressed an interest in seeing you again, also. Should I arrange a meeting?” The General beamed.

“Yes, please. It would be a most welcomed distraction. Nice to know that someone else we used to hang with got through this mess unscathed. How’d she do it?”

I had to admit that I hadn’t asked, and I didn’t know if I bought into the story she told or not. “No matter,” Eric chortled. “Is she there now? May I speak with her?”

I nodded and called to Celia over my shoulder, “The General would like to speak with you; if it’s at all possible.” I didn’t mean to be abrupt and insulting; well, maybe I did.

“Of course it’s possible,” Celia called back as her chair creaked and scraped against the floor. “I’ll be there in two shakes.”

It took a bit longer than two shakes. I went back to my lunch as Celia, Rebecca and Jeremy crowded around my holo-vid and engaged the General in an animated discussion. I overheard phrases like, “long time no see”, “just a flesh wound”, “on a cruise”, “we should get together”, and “love you” amid many fits of the giggles. When Celia had signed off, the trio returned to the kitchen table to say goodbye.

“Eric is sending a shuttle directly here to pick us up,” Celia told me as she gathered up her things. “It’s been wonderful catching up. We should do this again.” She then led her companions to the front door and hurriedly went out. Ron gave a polite, if insincere, wave of goodbye as he sipped his coffee and I pretended to be busy clearing up. Celia hardly noticed the cool farewell she was receiving as she limped gingerly out of my house, as if she had someplace better to be. The door closed on silence.

Moments later, the silence outside was shattered by the roar of shuttle engines as the transport Eric had sent arrived and departed. Lunch was long cleared away and Ron had said nothing. He took a look out of the front window as the shuttle lifted off, then turned to me and broke the silence.

“Nice lady,” he said flatly. “Cute kids. Not my kind of woman, though; too giggly.” I had to giggle myself.

“I seem to recall now that she was quite the giggler during basic, too,” I confessed. “Even when we had remorse training, she would giggle at some of the most disturbing things.”

“I wonder what kind of aid and comfort she gives to those in need,” Ron wondered. “It seems to me that a giggling schoolgirl would do nothing to ease my mind over the loss of a limb or a loved one.”

I might regret what I said next, “Well, when a pretty, rich giggler comes to your bedside and offers to help, you’d probably get some money out of her; depending on how needy you convinced her you were.”

Ron looked at me strangely. I was in a state of mind in which I didn’t care what I’d said. Ron helped me tidy up and pack, and the two of us locked up the house, reactivated the farm-bots, pacified Rollo, and took his rented hovercraft back to Kaletown. We caught the next available shuttles back to our respective outfits. Soon, the counteroffensive would commence. The fate of humanity and all I knew was about to be decided; and I had to admit, I was finally over Celia; though I had to wonder how and when I’d gotten into her in the first place.

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