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Epilogue
Clan Sea Fox CargoShip Voidswimmer
Nadir Jump Point, Castor
Prefecture VII, The Republic
1 November 3134
The data cube fit in the palm of his hand.
Petr arrived at his command cabin from Delta Community—assessing the ongoing repairs, pleased with the speed of recovery—where the passage of Fox Clansmen still flowed around him, but the distance no longer ensured he would never be touched; nor, if jostled, would there be abject horror and obsequiousness.
Nor did he take such as his due, now truly conscious of those around him. Of their moods, their desires, likes and dislikes. Of how he might make a difference. Wanted to reach out to grasp a shoulder here, an arm there, shake a hand or two. To ask how they fared. How their lives progressed. Were they acclimatizing to the changes?
But too much, too soon. They might retreat into past attitudes and customs. No, he must take it slowly, as he must take the recovery of his body, having pushed it to the brink.
Sitting in the familiar chair with its quirks and creaks, he clenched his fist, felt the cube bite. Yes, times for speed and times for sedateness. All just a matter of degrees. And right now, all aspects could use a little slowing down.
He peeled his fingers from the cube one at a time, a fruit revealing its luscious pulp. A heavy sense of déjà vu swept him and he expected the door to open to reveal a smiling and sarcastic Jesup informing him of the repairs to the Starmoth.
Petr felt an ache. Knew neither those smiling eyes nor even a genetic legacy would ever lighten someone’s countenance again. Knew that, unlike the pain in the muscles and ligaments of his ruptured shoulder, that ache would never truly heal. That scar he would carry a lifetime, a reminder of his own failings.
To keep him from making the same mistakes again.
Petr moved the data reader in front of him and placed it atop the report he received yesterday from the ilKhanate. A summons to the Khan’s presence. Whether for good or ill, he simply did not care. He did his duty for the Clan and he wished for no reward or special treatment. In fact, he almost hoped for a punishment. For the lives he squandered, the resources lost to the Clan.
The lost friends.
With a weary sigh, growing more nostalgic and less bitter every day, he slotted the cube into the reader, the warm hum setting the hairs on his right hand on end; ozone sat heavily on his tongue momentarily as the machine buzzed and sparked before the image clarified, springing into view.
Maintenance lying down on the job? He smiled before the familiar ache of his rage could even echo. Or did I forget to submit a service work chit?
Smoky eyes swallowed him, while a throaty voice carried him away.
“Hey, sweetness, you sure do give mixed signals. One day we’re talking wedding and dreaming about the night after and the next you leave me at the altar? Now what’s a girl to think?”
Petr chuckled, gently (lest the recently unwrapped ribs protest too much), realized the view centered only on her face, showing nothing below her neck. Different from her previous communiqués.
“Now I think you just got cold feet, sweetness, and deep down you just can’t live without me.” She actually brought up her right-hand index finger—the chewed nail exquisitely detailed at this scale—and tapped her pursed lips. “As such, I guess I’m willing to forgive you. There’s more than a ghost of a chance we’ll meet again, sweetness. And don’t forget the flowers and chocolates. I love chocolate.”
She winked and his smile grew wider.
“Now let’s stop beating around the bush and get down to some serious stuff.” Though she tried to rearrange her features to be serious, Petr could see the amusement of the whole affair sparkling in her eyes like distant nebulas viewed from the observation deck. “It would seem you managed to stop the Marik invasion cold, though to be honest, it seemed they really didn’t put their heart into it. Makes you wonder if this was a litmus test.”
He’d thought the exact same thing.
“’Course, your Khanate paid the price for stopping it. Then again, I guess you stopped ol’ Sha from taking your Clan apart from the inside out. So you did yourself a favor more than you did The Republic one.”
The thoughtful look, as though she actually contemplated going back on her word, might have worked for someone else. Though their time together had been short, he knew her. Knew her in a way he never thought to know a spheroid. She simply liked to play; it was her way.
She smiled brilliantly, and once more the striking gray eyes glowed, outshining the holoprojector itself. “No, I suppose I’ll keep my word to you. If you need aid from The Republic—if you need me–just put a call out to Snow through your contacts… and you’ll find a data cube waiting for you when you least expect it.” She turned her head away slightly, then back, glanced down momentarily as though truly trying to decide if she would speak again. Finally, looked back up at the camera and slowly licked her lips before continuing.
“You know, sweetness, you sure were hot to trot to know who I worked for, but then you simply let it drop. I don’t know about your Cla
His jaw dropped open momentarily; just when he thought he’d taken her measure and knew what to expect, she could take his breath away that easy. Petr slowly lowered his head to the desk. Slipped both hands back across his bald pate; the one side filled with scars, the other surgically altered so no hair would grow. Visible scars for the ones underneath, prices paid for his choices.
On the verge of sighing, he suddenly laughed out loud, the good-natured sound bouncing and echoing in the small room, the first such sound from him in too long; his world filled with smoky eyes.
Somehow, Petr knew she did not belong just in his past. After all, she made her choices as well. Made them boldly and clearly for those with eyes to see.
About the Author
Randall N. Bills began his writing career in the adventure gaming industry, where he has worked full-time for the last eight years. His hobbies include music, gaming (from electronic to RPGs to miniatures to all those wonderful German board games), reading (of course) and, when he can, traveling; he has visited numerous locations both for leisure and for his job, including moving from Phoenix to Chicago to Seattle, numerous trips to Europe, as well as an LDS mission to Guatemala.
He currently lives in the Pacific Northwest, where he continues to work full-time (and then some) in the adventure gaming industry while pursuing his writing career. Randall has published four novels and two Star Trek novellas; this is his fifth novel.
He lives with his best friend and wife, Tara Suza