by Jay Allan
The fact was, their only chance was coming out of hyperspace close enough to Celtiboria to make a run for it, and no AI-assisted hyperspace plot was going to drop a ship that near a planetary body. Gravity played havoc with jumps in and out of hyperspace, and executing an insertion or extraction too close to a planet or sun was extraordinarily dangerous. That kind of thing took a natural pilot, one with a sixth sense for space travel and a streak of insanity. Lucas fit the bill on both qualifications.
The ship shook hard and the viewscreen came back on, displaying the starry background of normal space. They all stared down at their stations, waiting for the systems to reboot. It only took a minute for the navcom to reactivate, but it seemed like an eternity.
“Yes—that’s how we do it!” Lucas shouted when the screens came back on. He was staring at the plot.
Blackhawk looked down at the map. The pilot had managed to bring them within half a light minute of the planet. “Nicely done, Lucas. That’s threading the needle by anyone’s measure.” He turned toward Astra. “Any pursuers?”
Astra bent down over her scope, looking for signs of vessels emerging from hyperspace. “I don’t see anything yet . . . wait . . .” Her head snapped up, and she looked over at Blackhawk. “Multiple contacts emerging.” She turned back to the scope. “They’re about a light minute back, Ark.” That was close. The pirates hadn’t been able to match Lucas’s piloting skill, but they’d done a damned good job themselves.
“Lucas, can we get to Celtiboria before they engage us?” He knew the answer before he even asked.
“Afraid not, Skip. Not unless Sam can get me a lot more power.”
Which was almost certainly out of the question. The Claw was limping along on one-quarter reactor output, and she only managed that because of Sam’s wizardry. The jump had taken a lot out of the ship, and he doubted Sam could do much more in the time they had . . .
I didn’t survive Kalishar and Saragossa just to give up now. Not when we’re so close.
Blackhawk punched a code in his comm unit. “Attention all Celtiborian authorities: this is Arkarin Blackhawk on the vessel Wolf’s Claw. We are returning from a mission for Marshal Lucerne, and we have heavy damage. We are being pursued by hostiles, pirate vessels from Kalishar, and we request immediate assistance.”
The bridge was silent, as they all waited to see if any Celtiborian ships were close enough to intervene. The seconds ticked by, as their transmission went out in all directions at lightspeed. Blackhawk felt his hopes start to sink as the seconds turned into a minute, and he looked over at Astra. “We better get ready to put up whatever fight we . . .”
“Wolf’s Claw, this is Commodore Rochfort, commanding the Third Cruiser Squadron. We have received your communication and located your pursuers. We are moving to intercept. Marshal Lucerne has the whole fleet out looking for you. Welcome back to Celtiboria.”
Blackhawk pumped his fist and let out a yell. “Yes!” Astra and Lucas were cheering too, and he could hear the rest of the crew all the way from the lower level. Rochfort’s cruisers would make short work of any Kalishari pirate ships that stayed to tangle with them. Blackhawk let out a long sigh.
We made it.
He turned toward his pilot. “Lucas, if you would be so kind, please plot a course for Celtiboria.”
Lucas looked down at his board, a broad smile creeping across his face. “My pleasure, Skip.”
“I never thanked you for saving me, Ark.” Astra stood next to the door of his cabin, smiling warmly. She’d been borrowing Shira’s clothing since they’d snatched her back from her kidnappers on Saragossa, but now she was wearing something different, as beautiful and elegant a dress as Blackhawk had ever seen. It was made from shimmering blue Delphian silk, and Blackhawk could tell it had cost a king’s ransom. He wondered where she’d gotten it until he realized Katarina must have lent it to her. She looked beautiful, her golden blond hair flowing loosely around her bare shoulders.
“I knew you’d come for me, no matter where they took me.” She walked across the small room, stopping in front of Blackhawk. “I never doubted you, not for an instant.” He was sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing a pair of breeches, his shirt cast aside. The welts on his chest and back were painful, and the rough material of the shirt was too uncomfortable. He was resting his leg, propping it up on a small stool. Doc had cleaned the wound and dressed it properly, but it was still painful.
She ran her hand softly across his savaged back, and he shivered at her touch. “I’m so sorry you were hurt so badly, Ark. More than you can know.”
He looked up at her. I know, Astra. I know.
There were so many things he wanted to say, but he stopped himself. He loved her, and he knew she loved him, but that wasn’t enough. There were too many problems for them to overcome, old secrets and new battles to be fought. It was a place he wouldn’t let her go. He had nothing to offer her but pain, and he loved her too much to share his nightmares with her. Any doubts he might have had, any delusions he’d entertained of living a normal life with her had been stripped from him on the field of battle at the Lementov château. It was all still there inside him, the monster, trapped again now in its cage, but waiting always for the chance to break free, to turn him into something dark and loathsome.
If he ever lost control again, became what he had been, he hoped a bullet would find him and end his pain. He could face death, but the thought that terrified him most was Astra seeing him that way, as he had been long ago. He knew he could never share her life and her love, and the image of her looking back at him with fear and revulsion in her eyes wasn’t something he ever wanted to see.
“Astra, I don’t think . . .”
“Shh . . .” She put her finger over his lips. “No, don’t say anything.” She sat down next to him, and she leaned her head against his. “I know everything you’re going to say. You’re older, we have different responsibilities . . . there are a thousand reasons we can’t be together. You have suffered, my love, I know. Your past causes you terrible pain. Do you think I’m blind? A fool?” She moved her hands up, taking hold of his face gently and turning him toward her. “I know it all, Ark, and I don’t care. Not about any of it.”
He started to open his mouth, but she covered it with her hand. “No, my love, no reasons, no arguments, no speeches.” Her voice was soft, almost hypnotic. “We’ll be on Celtiboria in a couple hours, and then you can argue with me and tell me all the reasons we can’t be together.” She leaned in and softly kissed his neck. “I don’t care what happens when we land, or next week or next year. All I care about is now, and for these few fleeting moments, you are mine.”
He closed his eyes, trying to summon the strength to get up, to push her away, but it just wasn’t in him. He knew it was the right thing to do, that he shouldn’t let her become more attached to him than she already was, but he couldn’t. He’d loved her for so long, and more each time he saw her. The softness of her skin, the scent of her hair, it was all too much, and his resistance crumbled.
He felt her hand on his face, her lips on his. He took her in his arms and laid her down on the bed, staring into her eyes. Just this once, he thought, shoving the doubts and fear and even good sense out of his mind. Just this once.
CHAPTER 31
“I DON’T KNOW HOW TO THANK YOU, ARK.” AUGUSTIN LUCERNE was looking at his friend, his eyes conveying his gratitude. He looked rejuvenated from the last time Blackhawk had seen him, when the marshal had asked the captain in a broken voice to find his daughter.
The two men were alone, sitting in front of a roaring fire in one of the many reception rooms in Celtiboria City’s massive palace. The ancient dwelling place of the planet’s kings had been unused for centuries. The city itself had been controlled by more than one of the planet’s warlords in that time, but the old palace was too vulnerable to serve as a home base for any of Celtiboria’s old warrior elite. Lucerne had ordered it reopened to serve as a symbol that the planet’s leade
rs had no need to lock themselves up in great fortresses for fear of the people. Much of the work of governing a planet was conducted in the building’s lavish halls and offices, but Lucerne himself lived as frugally as ever, commandeering a small suite of rooms that had long ago housed servants.
“You have thanked me already, several times.” Blackhawk leaned back in the chair, enjoying the plush softness. He healed very quickly, but he’d been battered pretty badly on this mission, and he was still sore just about everywhere. “And there was no need, even the first time. I would go through the fires of Hephaseus to save Astra.”
“And I would reward you more richly if you would allow it. Anything, Ark. Just name it.” Lucerne’s voice was sincere. He had wanted to shower his friend with titles and riches, but Blackhawk had refused.
“Seeing Astra safe and home is reward enough.” Blackhawk’s voice was soft, quiet. Lucerne’s efforts to reward him were making him uncomfortable. The thought of taking money—or anything else—for saving Astra’s life was unthinkable to him.
Lucerne had promised the Claw’s crew an enormous price if they found and returned his daughter, and he’d been true to his word. Blackhawk allowed the grateful ruler to indulge his people. They had worked and fought hard, and they deserved every bit of reward and praise Lucerne offered. But he would take nothing for himself, not a single imperial crown. He gave his share of the reward to aid the poor and displaced of Celtiboria, the victims of its long wars of unification. He didn’t want thanks or public acclaim. The knowledge that Astra was safe was enough reward.
The two sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the fire. They had been friends for a long time, and Lucerne was the closest thing Blackhawk had to a confidant. He’d discussed many things with Lucerne over the years, but he wasn’t ready to share his thoughts now.
“Stay, Ark.” Lucerne’s voice was uncharacteristically emotional. “Stay with us on Celtiboria. Help me build the Far Stars Confederation.”
Blackhawk shifted uncomfortably in his seat and stared back at his friend. “You know I can’t, Augustin.” Lucerne was the only person in the Far Stars who knew the truth about Blackhawk’s past, about the enormity of his crimes.
“It has been a long time, Ark, and you have proven your worthiness since then. Whatever sins you committed years ago, you have become a good man. You have conquered what you once were.” He paused, reaching out and putting his hand on his friend’s arm. “I trust you, Ark. I trust you with my life. It’s time to let your old demons go.”
Blackhawk gazed down at the floor. He smiled briefly, but the sadness was still heavy on his face. “Your trust is one of my most prized possessions, Augustin, and I can never tell you how grateful I am for that. It means more to me than I can ever explain.” He turned and looked into the fire, remembering how he’d felt on the battlefield on Saragossa, the thoughts and urges that raced through his head. “But I haven’t conquered anything, my friend. Some things stay with you forever, and all you can do is remain vigilant.”
He paused and, for a fleeting second, he thought about Lucerne’s words. He wanted nothing more than to help Celtiboria’s new ruler fulfill his goal, to help make the Far Stars safe from the brutality of the empire. He, more than anyone, knew what imperial rule would mean to this sector so used to its independence. He believed in Lucerne, and he would have been honored to follow the man wherever his standard marched. But he had long ago put aside such ambitions. “I trust you, Augustin, but I don’t trust me.” He looked up at Lucerne, but all he could see was a parade of old memories passing before his eyes, fire and war and death. “I can’t do it. I can’t lead armies again.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
Lucerne nodded slowly, and he sat silently for a few minutes. “What about Astra?” he finally said, turning to face Blackhawk as he did.
Blackhawk tensed, and he felt a knot begin to grow in his stomach. His mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of Lucerne’s daughter, arguing with him, ignoring every command he tried to give her. The feel of her skin against his, the sweet smell of her hair. “What . . . what do you mean? She is safe now. She’s home.”
Lucerne’s eyes bored into Blackhawk’s. “I mean she loves you, Ark. Do you think I’m blind to my own daughter?”
Blackhawk sat speechless for a few seconds. “I . . . ah . . .”
“And you love her, too.” Lucerne’s stare was unrelenting. “Do you think I’m blind to you, Ark? That I cannot see what is plain as day?” His chiseled expression morphed slowly into a smile. “Neither of you is as subtle as you think.”
Blackhawk fidgeted uncomfortably. “Augustin, I . . .”
“I know you have tried to suppress your feelings, but there is no need. I appreciate the loyalty, Ark, but I want my daughter to be happy, and I trust her to decide what she wants. Astra is a . . . ah . . . spirited girl, as you know, but she is smart too, and willful. No one tells her what she wants or thinks. No one who wants to walk away still standing, that is.”
“Augustin, no one regards Astra more highly than I do, but I don’t think of her like that.” He was lying to his friend, and trying to convince himself as he spoke. “She’s just infatuated with me because my people and I rescued her. When she calms down, she’ll come to her senses.”
“Ark, I never thought you’d lie to me,” he chided. “Astra doesn’t get infatuated. She’s been stone cold since she was a little girl. She grew up on the battlefield. And she doesn’t need to calm down. Did she seem scared when she was with you? For that matter, have you ever seen her afraid?”
“No,” Blackhawk said, grinning as he thought of Astra in action on the Claw. “The girl’s cool under fire, that’s for sure.”
Blackhawk’s passing grin faded. “It doesn’t matter how she feels, Augustin. And it doesn’t make any difference how I feel either. I’m much older than she is. I know I don’t look like it, but I am. I’m tired and used up in a way she couldn’t understand. If she has some feelings, they’re for an image in her mind, something that doesn’t really exist.”
“Ark, you may be older, but you’re different from most people, and you know it. Your genetics are extraordinary. Astra may be twenty-five years younger than you, but you will probably outlive her. No one knows what your lifespan will be, but you’ll live long after most men would be in their graves. And with all Astra has seen, the death and destruction of war, is she really so much younger than you in spirit?”
Blackhawk didn’t answer immediately. He wanted Astra—he wanted to go to her now, to tell her how he felt. But the discipline was still there, and it clamped down hard. The pain was sharp, and it cut deep, but his resolve was strong. “It’s more than age, Augustin, and you know it.” His voice became sadder, quieter. “You know the life I have to lead, the reasons I can’t join you and help build the confederation. You, of all people, should understand. I’m a monster caged, but still a monster. Everything I did, all the horrible crimes I committed—I cannot take a chance to allow that side of me to come out again. As much as I want to join you, to fight at your side, that can never be.”
He took a deep breath. “What life could I offer Astra? To fly around the Far Stars on Wolf’s Claw, to live the rest of her days as a mercenary surviving on the fringe of human society?” He stared at Lucerne, and the pain in his eyes was there for his friend to see.
“I won’t do that to her, Augustin, I just won’t. Without me she will stay here. She will stand at your side as you build a new order, as you secure the freedom of the Far Stars for generations to come.” Another pause, longer this time. “I am the one stained with guilt, and I must live my penance. But I will not drag Astra into it. Even if she loves me. Even if I love her. I will not steal her chance of greatness from her.”
He stood up, feeling edgy. “I’ve got to go, Augustin. I need to check on the repairs to the Claw.”
“Ark . . .” But the words wouldn’t come.
It didn’t matter; Blackhawk k
new what he was going to say. In a way, he was glad Augustin didn’t say them—if anyone could convince him he was being a fool, it would be his friend. And maybe Augustin would be right. But he had convinced himself for so long that this was the only way, he wasn’t prepared for a world where this wasn’t his reality.
I’ve faced death countless times. Been tortured and inflicted horrors.
And I’m nothing but a coward.
“I think I’m going to stay on the ship, Augustin.” Lucerne had arranged plush accommodations at the palace for the entire crew, but Blackhawk needed to get as far away from it all as possible. “I need to be alone for a while. I—I do want to thank you, though, for putting the crew up in such style, Augustin. If it’s okay with you, they’ll stay here a few extra weeks. It was a hard time. They need some R&R. They deserve a break, and we’re not likely to be someplace as civilized as Celtiboria anytime soon.”
“Are you sure, Ark?” Lucerne spoke softly. “I can make sure you’re not disturbed here.”
I don’t think there’s anywhere in the Far Stars I won’t be disturbed, he thought. But he simply said, “Thanks, Augustin, but I think I’ll be better off in my own quarters. Besides, Sam can probably use some help supervising the repairs.” He reached out his hand to his friend. “I’ll see you again before I leave—I promise.”
Lucerne grasped Blackhawk’s hand, and the two shook warmly. “And I intend to hold you to that, Ark. I don’t see you nearly often enough, and we’re going to have dinner and kill a bottle of Antillean brandy before I let you go.”
Blackhawk took his leave, hurrying to get past the servants and courtiers to the solitude he needed. Augustin had seen right through him—just as his daughter had—and for all his wounds, it was his soul that was giving him the most pain right now. He knew his friend wouldn’t stop trying to convince him of his place in the galaxy—fighting at the marshal’s side, embraced by the love of Astra.
