The main bay of the ship was mostly empty when Dan arrived. The officers and chief petty officers were there, along with most of the missile command crew. A select few of the healers and Corelean crew were also in attendance.
Dan found his place, with his crew, to one side of the bay. The entire group, American and Consortium alike, was wedged to one side of the low stage. The rest of the bay was marked off in different colors. In a matter of moments they would be filled with holo-projections. The center space would be the White House, the president and several important correspondents. The left would be Princess Sarasvat and her entourage.
Dan was excited and nervous to meet the president and the leader of these outsiders, even if it was in holo form. Underneath it was concern for the star of the show.
This whole conference was a political show, a way for the President and his administration to show they were now friends with the Consortium. The Cambridge was the symbol of that friendship, forged in the heat of battle. So they needed a hero, Cheyenne Walker, the woman who stood on deck and fired the shot that destroyed the missile.
It was her first time outside a medi-tank for more than a few minutes. Dan hadn't had a chance to see her since her artificial limbs had been grafted on, and even he wasn't sure exactly what they would see.
They waited until the last possible moment to bring her in, likely for fear of tiring her. The others arrived first. There was a casual flicker of the lights and the center was suddenly filled with chairs and people. The president and his wife were in the front row. Next to him a gray haired woman and two kids that Dan recognized from pictures Cheyenne had shown him.
Another casual flicker and the room was full, the Princess Sarasvat, a larger than life figure, seated cross legged on a low stool, two Kurgara warriors kneeling at her side. Her skin was a light olive complexion. Her hair was a light silver, piled high over her head and spilling down her back. A bright blue gem covered her third eye, and coupled with the golden glow of her natural eyes, gave her an almost mythical look. Her dress was low cut, loose and flowing.
A murmur went through the crowd. Her arrival must have been the signal because moments later Captain Dowlings announced, "presenting, Chief Petty Officer Cheyenne Walker."
A side door opened and Cheyenne came out, flanked by her healers. She was wearing her dress uniform. Her head was almost entirely covered in black patches, descending down her neck and disappearing into her uniform. She wore her goggles and her eyes were merely white space within. Her hands, too, were covered in black, ending with long skeletal fingers. The pants of her uniform hid the artificial legs that Dan knew were there.
Her gait was weak and the healers stayed close by her side. She kept her head erect and her bearing proud as she approached the President, who had risen. She snapped a salute to him. Her face shifted once towards her kids, a smile pulling at the corners of a black mouth.
"Miss Walker," the president said, "your country owes you the highest honor it has and I look forward to pinning it to your uniform in person, as soon as it is possible to do so."
The Princess came next. Cheyenne gave her a bow, which she returned gracefully. "Among the Kurgara," the princess told her, "it is custom that when one of them dies, they hold a counting. They count every life saved, every life protected or touched by the deceased. When the day comes for you Cheyenne, the counting shall run in the millions. We, too, owe you a great honor and I, too, look forward to bestowing it in person, in due time."
Cheyenne then presented herself to Captain Lannister. She stumbled as she mounted the stage and Janda quickly ushered her to a seat. Several dignitaries spoke briefly and vaguely about Cheyenne's sacrifice, the ongoing conflict and the hope that America and the Consortium could learn from this experience and cooperate in the future.
Lana hovered protectively over Cheyenne as the people spoke. When someone threatened to talk too long she shot warning looks at the White House aide that was M.C.'ing the event.
As soon as the main conference broke up and people were allowed to mingle, a boy darted up on the stage to stand in front of Cheyenne. Dan made for her as well.
"Mom! Is that really you?" the boy demanded.
"Yes, James," Cheyenne replied. Her voice was about the only thing still recognizable.
"It is you! Wow."
"Yeah, I got beat up pretty bad, huh?" she said.
A girl, slightly older than the boy, was approaching cautiously. "Mom?" Tears stood in the girl's eyes.
"It's okay Mackenzie," Cheyenne told her. "I'm alive and I am going to be okay."
"But you're, you're..."
"It's only temporary," Janda said, his voice soothing. "We are going to repair all the damage in time, you just wait and see."
"They can do that?" the boy gushed. "Make you new skin and everything?"
"Yes, look," Cheyenne slid one finger up to the edge of the black glove over her right hand, "see," she pointed to a bit of pinkish flesh where the glove met her arm. "That's new. Someday it will grow, more and more." She slid her skeletal finger down the glove. "Until it even covers these." She finished by touching one skeletal finger to another. "All the way down until my hands like it was. Isn't that amazing?"
"Yes," the boy agreed.
The girl didn't seem so sure. "You don't have eyes," she said uncertainly.
"I can see you with this," Cheyenne said, tapping the glass front of the goggle, "and that is enough for right now."
"We are growing new eyes," Lana said.
Dan noticed out of the corner of his eyes that Cheyenne's mother was going through complete hysterics just a few feet away, bawling loudly. The president had his arm around her and was patting her back ineffectually. He was looking around as if to ask his aide how he was supposed to look dignified while a fifty year old woman blubbered on his shoulder, "my daughter, my poor, poor daughter." Dan smirked at the scene.
"Hey, there, you must be James Walker," Dan said to the boy. "I work with your mom. My name's Dan. I'd shake your hand, but it would go right through." He reached out and sure enough, their hands went right through each other. The boy giggled and turned his attention to Dan.
"You're on a spaceship, too? That's super cool. I wish I could go on a spaceship," he said. Dan talked to him to give Cheyenne and her daughter a chance to have their own, more timid homecoming.
She came and stopped directly in front of her mother, her face scared. Cheyenne reached out and stroked her cheek. The girl twitched at the sight of the fingers but held still. "I wish I could touch you for real," Cheyenne said wistfully. "I miss you two so much."
"Are you going to keep doing this?" the girl demanded.
"No, I told you before I left this last time, this is it. My last deployment. As soon as my enlistment is up, I am getting out. To be there for you and James. I promise."
The girl gave the barest of nods.
"And we will get to see each other in person soon, before you know it. Five more weeks, right?" she looked at Lana for confirmation. Lana nodded, a guarded expression on her face.
"Will you still be like...this?"
"She will have eyes by then," Lana told the girl, "and a lot more skin. But there will still areas that have to be covered. It will take a long time to undo the damage. But we will see it through."
"See, it will be okay, you'll see." Cheyenne's voice was weak, distant.
Lana and Janda shared a look. Lana's face hardened. She turned to Dan. "You, tell that guy this conference will be over in ten minutes, tops." To Janda she said, "go tell her mother, if she wishes to see her daughter she must do so now. My patient needs to be back in the tank in fifteen minutes."
Dan relayed the message and found his men. They were chatting with a couple of earth side reporters about how things were going on the ship. "Been sick a bunch, and lost my hair," Kleppie was telling one, "but it's not so bad. The crew of this ship, they're mostly alright folks. Not so different than us, once you get down to it."
Within minutes it was over. An aide was ushering a still hysterical Dana Walker off the stage and away from Cheyenne, who was shaking her head and another aide was announcing that there would be a luncheon afterwards but the guest of honor must take her leave.
The entire bay rose and saluted as Cheyenne was led out by her healers. Dan stayed only a short time after. He was too distracted. There was a long buffet table with appetizers on it. It, too, was separated into three sections, one for each physical location. Dan kept trying to grab things from one of the holographic sections. After the third time and some gentle ribbing from Kleppie about it, he told them he wasn't feeling well and excused himself back to his quarters.
#####
Cheyenne staggered down the hall, Janda and Lana on either side. She wasn't quite used to her new legs. They reacted like her real legs had, but they were lighter, her balance was different. And she felt more tired than she had ever felt. How could such a short time wear her down so much?
She focused instead on the positive. "Did you see them?" she said. "My kids."
"The youngest was quite excited," Janda said. "A kid after my heart."
"James? He's like that," Cheyenne said.
"Both were lovely," Lana said. "What was the older's name, Mackenzie? She has your eyes."
"How would you know?" Cheyenne joked, "you've never seen them."
"Sure we have," Janda shot back, "we've got them in a jar."
"We've seen your picture," Lana explained, with an exasperated look at both of them.
Cheyenne's medibay was close to the bay area, and she was glad to see it. Her arms felt heavy. Janda stood at her back and supported her while Lana assisted her in unbuttoning her shirt. As the shirt slid off Cheyenne's shoulders and down, Lana's hand brushed against her shoulder and then lower, across her bare back.
Lana's hands were smooth and the touch electrifying. She shuddered and nearly let out a small moan. She looked down as Lana looked up. It was clear Lana had felt it, too. If there had been any skin on her face, Cheyenne would have blushed. She pursed her lips and looked away. Not once in the last week of laying in the tank, naked, had she felt the slightest modesty, but now she did.
Lana assisted her in getting the pants off and said, "We must get you back in the tank right away, Miss Cheyenne. You are near to exhaustion. We will take the patches off after, okay?"
Cheyenne nodded, knowing it was true. Her head was swimming. Janda and Lana cradled her on either side and lifted her over the lip. She let herself sink partway down, floating at the surface while they worked on the patches on her legs and then her chest and face.
She thought about her reaction to Lana's touch. She had never felt anything like that with a woman before. When did that start?
Maybe it had been the discussions they had about sexuality. Lana had announced the other day that she had been over the database, with permission from the information bureau, to look at statistical information, not personal videos, she assured them. She had found, to her own surprise, that Cheyenne and Dan's assertion was in fact true, a certain percentage of the population had exclusively same sex relationships. It was not something the Consortium had thought to look into.
She went on to claim that an almost equally small percentage of the population had exclusively opposite sex relationships. Most, as they in the Consortium had been taught, were on a spectrum in between. They might prefer male or female companions, but had no strict exclusivity.
This all discounted the Consortium's seemingly complex notion of gender, which was also on a spectrum. Nor did it take into account their medical technology and the fact that they had several genders that were physical in-between in some way. And then there were relationships involving aliens, which were even harder to tally. In the end it was easier perhaps to just shrug your shoulders and accept that if all parties were happy, it wasn't your business.
Could it be that learning that bisexuality was the human norm, according to a culture far more advanced than hers, had Cheyenne allowing herself to experience feelings she had blocked before?
The truth might be far simpler, she thought. She'd been in the tank and denied of any physical contact for a week. It seemed far longer. Was she simply starved for human contact? It felt so at times.
Then, there was Lana. That voice, it had entranced Cheyenne since she first heard it. She'd thought it was the voice of an angel to take her to the other side. She giggled at thought.
"What is it, Miss Cheyenne?" Lana asked.
"When I was on the deck, I thought I was dying. Then I heard your voice..."
"You were awake?" Janda said. "See," he said to Lana, "I told you, there was brain activity. I said, didn't I?"
"You did."
"I thought," Cheyenne said, "that is, do you have angels?"
"The word translates as servants of god," Lana said. "I believe in the divine mother, giver of life. She has spirits that serve her, yes."
"That's what I thought you were, your voice, I thought it would lead me to heaven, or wherever we go when we die," Cheyenne said. Another thought struck her suddenly, they have religion, too? What did they believe? These were questions for another time, already she could feel her consciousness fading as sleep overtook her.