Page 8 of Chosen By Swift

“Speaking of your leave,” Orion made a strange face, “contact your mother. She’s been pestering the FLO since the day you left on this rescue op.”

Swift grimaced. “Apologies, sir. She can get a bit worked up when she doesn’t hear from me.”

“Of course, she does. She’s your mother.” He paused, as if thinking. “You weren’t an only child?”

“No, sir. I had three older brothers.” Hadbeenthe key word. All of them were dead now, killed in action. “My fatherpassed away fouryears ago, and she’s been lonely, I think.”

“She’s in a widow’s compound?” Orion asked.

Swift nodded. “She tolerates it, but I know she’s unhappy there.”

Orion glanced around as if to make sure no one could overhear them. “There’s talk of family units coming to Calyx. Ground units,” he clarified. “Housing complexes. Medical facilities. A new branch of the Academy. It would be helpful if men like you—men with widowed mothers or sisters—write letters supporting that initiative. I can only make so much noise on my own, but hearing from our frontline warriors, our men with the highest valor points, carries more weight.”

Swift didn’t dare hope that he might someday be allowed to live on a planet’s surface again. To have a home? A mate? Children? And his mother nearby to be a doting grandmother? It was more than he had ever dreamed would be possible. “I’ll write that letter, sir.”

“You do that, and Swift?”

“Yes, sir?”

“When you pick out your mate, be smart about it”

“Yes, sir.” He understood exactly what the admiral meant. After the dustup with Raze, Swift had sought counsel from Orion. He had made many missteps when it came to women, and nearly brawling with Raze on the arrivals deck over Ella had been the last one. Looking back on the way he used to behave made him cringe with shame. He had been an absolute asshole.

Orion’s advice rattled around in his head as he finished the required debrief and checked in on Quark who had awoken but remembered nothing. The wound to his head was serious, but not critical. He would recover, but Risk wasn’t sure when or if those memories would return. That unsettled Swift, not knowing who tried to cripple their ship and whether they were still intent on causing trouble here on theValiant.

It's not your job to chase down those answers. You’re a pilot. Leave it to Shadow Force.

When he finally arrived at his newly assigned quarters, it was nearly four in the morning. Dead on his feet, he unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment where he would soon bring his mate. It looked exactly like every other apartment set aside for mated officers. His was slightly larger than others and at the end of the hall.

He hadn’t looked at the full floor roster yet, but it seemed as if he was the most senior man on the floor. That meant there would be more responsibilities heaped onto his plate. He and the next two highest ranked men would be in charge of maintaining a safe and cooperative environment on their floor. They would settle neighborly disputes and ensure that every family unit was happy and healthy.

His gaze settled on the short stack of containers that held everything he owned. Like everyone else, he had very little to his name. Their minimalist way of living had been drilled into each man as a student at the Academy. There was no point in collecting useless things. Everything he needed to survive should fit in one standard-issue bag. Anything else was pointless and sentimental.

He logged into his unit’s control panel and spent a few minutes setting his preferences in the system. He tapped into the communication screen and scrolled down the seemingly endless list of calls and messages from his mother. He listened to a few of them and smiled.

“Swift, it’s your mother. I know you’re still on your mission, but I wanted to let you know how much I love you and hope you’re doing well. I pray for you every morning and every night. I love you, dearest boy.”

There were dozens of similar messages, each one short and sweet and filled with her love for him. Overcome with guilt at practically abandoning her for eight months, he checked to see what time it was on Haven-6, the lush island planet where his mother had chosen to spend her widowhood. It was late morning there, and she would have been up for hours by now, first to attend temple and then to have her morning tea and breakfast. Regardless, she would give him an earful if he delayed contacting her no matter the time after such a long absence.

“Swift!” She answered their vid-chat on the second ring, and her face lit up with such joy it made his heart ache. His mother was the only person in the entire universe who had ever shown him unconditional love. “You’re back!”

“I am, Mama.”

“Stand up! Let me see you. All of you. Turn around,” she ordered, and he could practically feel her zooming in to make sure he still had every limb exactly where it should be. “No hidden injuries?”

“No, Mama. I’m fine.” He decided not to tell her about the long-healed wounds from the shootout during the rescue. “How are you?”

“I’m wonderful,” she said, her eyes dimming just the slightest bit. She recovered quickly and launched into a rundown of all the things she had been doing while he was gone. Her sewing group was working on their annual quilt drive for war orphans. Her gardening group had undertaken a beautification project at their local veteran’s home. “I think we should stick to bright colors that the men can see easily from their windows, but Sanna is convinced we should do more green plants. We’re supposed to vote at next week’s meeting so I’m arranging a little get-together to pull together more support.”

“Mama,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought you said you were done with the politics and drama of the garden group!”

“I was until Sanna had to be so high handed about the flowers! She thinks just because her husband was an admiral that she’s better than all of us. Well, I remember when she was brought onto the Triumph, thrown over Hawk’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Leaves and twigs sticking out of her hair and her face all snotty from crying about being Grabbed—.”

“Mama,” he interrupted as respectfully as he could.

“I know I shouldn’t say such mean things.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

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