T.A. Leederman

One Republic Shipyard, High Earth Orbit, December 2151
 

Dr. Savin Kalgari juggled his rucksack off the ERS Hydra, glancing down constantly at his dark communicator. Holiday anticipation and R&R were in high swing, despite the Praezorian War; he found himself dodging rushing engineers and officers, people heading to their transports on One Republic. His eyes magnetized toward the canteen’s windows as he passed—big dark bays facing the great glowing blue orb of Earth, its pearly clouds and azure oceans.

Archer and the kids were down there. Savin’s stomach hurt.

Savin told Archer, as well as his own dad and sister, who helped with the childcare, the timing of Hydra’s arrival in-system. In the past, whenever Savin came home from his deployments, he’d receive an outright assault of messages—a torrent of questions about the kids, logistics, long detailed complaints about everything from doctor’s appointments to sibling rivalry.

What if he knows?

Savin swallowed, prickles of dread along his neck and arms… worried he might be paranoid. Archer finding out would be impossible. Right?

Since they’d gotten together in college, Savin had never been the one to message first. Archer, ever clingy and near-manic with relationship fervor, sent him messages seemingly at all hours. Was it so paranoid to think Archer must know something?

Or worse. He could be hurt. Something could have happened to one of the kids. Why wasn’t that your first concern?

Savin’s censorious inner voice knew the answer, though. If Archer had been injured, Savin would be hearing from Dad. If something happened to one of the kids, he’d be hearing from goddamn everybody.

Savin broke his rule and sent the first message.

Savin: Hey. Just heading to my transport. You and the kids ready to meet me?

Time passed, and finally Savin received a message from his dad.

Dad: I’ll be there to meet you with a ground car rental. I should warn you…. Archer’s on the warpath.

Savin stopped walking, knocked his head back, and cringed with a small hiss of pain.

He knows.

​

~*~

​

Indoc 4 (Vancouver, North American Territory), Earth
 

“I can’t believe you would do this! Four kids! FOUR! You go off to be a hero and leave me here with them, working and babysitting while you showboat—”

Archer seemed incapable of looking at Savin, pacing back and forth across the wide swath of the living room, occasionally kicking a soft toy out of his way. When he kicked Vivi’s stuffed rabbit, Savin winced and got up to rescue it.

The confrontation felt planned, staged like an intervention. Ceci, Savin’s sister, had ushered the children out of the house for the afternoon. Dad remained, arms folded, back against the front door to prevent escape, watching Archer with flat eyes, like he stood ready to break up a fight. Even the rain felt downright summoned to besiege them, pelting the small garden outside in a solid sheet.

Archer paused his diatribe, then finally stopped pacing. Savin eyed him.

“Well?” Archer ducked forward, pale blue eyes wide and attentive.

“Well, what? What question do you want an answer to?” Savin kept his voice emotionless and clinical, as he might do with a patient. Archer shook his head fiercely.

“Oh, no—none of that. I’m not a crewman who’s been hit by some roach’s psychic mind weapon. I’m not an experiment or a subject. I’m your husband. I want answers, goddamn it!”

Savin shrugged. “For what? You haven’t even asked me why I did it. You haven’t taken a long enough breath to let me get a word in edgewise.”

Archer paused, then kicked back laughing, voice low and rich. “Oh, okay. So it’s my fault? Typical, Savin. And what else? I’m neurotic and clingy, paranoid and delusional? I was raised as an Indoc orphan, so I suffer from ‘anxious attachment’? Isn’t that what you like to say?” He laughed again, shaking his head. “Am I really paranoid when you turn around and actually do it?”

Savin didn’t rise to the needling; he kept his voice soft. “How did you find out?”

Returning to his pacing but remaining calm, Archer kept shaking his head. “Unlike you, your little Med Tech girlfriend has a conscience. She paid me a visit during her leave… begged me for my forgiveness. I told her she didn’t need it.” Archer fixed Savin with hard eyes. “You do. You left me alone with our kids, worrying sick, had yourself a goddamn tryst. Hope you had fun.”

Savin still didn’t raise his voice far above a whisper, clasping his hands. He caught his father frowning at him, more in confusion than anything else

“If you must know, I didn’t. Not for a moment. Maybe I just liked having someone to talk to, who knew what I was going through.” He stood, searching his untouched gentleman’s chest for the slim case of clove cigarettes. “What’s your plan here, Archer? Do you want me to leave? Not see the kids for the holidays? I can do that. I feel bad for them, but it’s your choice.”

Archer seemed to deflate, some vital energy flowing out of his anger. “I don’t know. I expected tearful apologies, maybe some groveling. Not this. What’s your suggestion, Sergeant Major?”

Savin buried a wince at hearing his rank. “I suggest we start couple’s counseling and focus on the kids. If you can stomach it. I can’t have this conversation without another professional in the room.”

Archer scoffed, closing his eyes and looking away. “Hiding behind psychology. As usual.”

Savin abruptly sensed internally that he’d had enough. He felt penned in—worse by the toys and his father and the rain than he’d ever felt within the tight confines of bulkhead and hull—and he marched toward the garden door.

“I’ll be on the porch, in case you want to put on your big-boy pants and have an actual conversation, Archer.”

The porch featured an old chair, where he liked to sit and smoke, safe from the sheet of rain. Archer and the kids had decorated the tiny area with fairy lights, a living rosemary plant in the shape of a Christmas tree, covered in homemade baubles. Each child had made a sign at school or Creche and taped it to the window inside, facing out.

Welcome home, Papa!

That was the thing that broke him… not Archer’s yelling, Dad’s confused frown, the empty house, or the lack of shouted greetings and holiday din. Without even knowing it, he’d been shoved out of the circle, kicked from the fire’s glow.

That happened when you deployed. They just didn’t know it until now.

You can’t go back home.

Finally, Archer joined him, pained eyes focused on the rain and the coils of Savin’s clove smoke.

“I heard you crying. Are you okay?”

Savin scoffed. “Of course I’m not okay. We’ve been together since college. We have four kids. You think I’d cheat on you recreationally?”

Archer swallowed, processed, then nodded once.

“So we go to therapy.” A pause. “Savin… please come back inside. It’s freezing out here.”

“I didn’t notice.” Savin laughed helplessly, still weeping.

“I know.” Archer took his cigarette, extinguishing it. “I love you. Come back inside.”

Savin nodded, gratitude swelling. “I’m sorry.”

Now Archer spoke quietly, hand extended. “I know. Let’s talk.”