Last Song (Heinlein's Finches Book 3)

by Robin Banks

  “It will grow back. Stop wilting. Dashing pilots don’t wilt.”

  “Maybe I’m not as dashing as all that. I don’t want to go. Gwen, this hurts. Every moment I’m without you hurts. Just thinking about it hurts.”

  She throws her arms around him and buries her face in his chest.

  “It won’t be for long. You’ll be back before you know it. And when you’re not busy saving the world you can have some fun. It’s almost a holiday.”

  I snort. “A holiday without you and the kids? Yeah, right.”

  “A holiday from me and the kids. The two of you haven’t had any time to yourselves since Mattie’s spawning unless you were off working, and none at all since Jojo was born. I’m horribly jealous, to be honest. The two of you, off on a fancy ship, hitting all the fancy sites…”

  Asher peels her off him to scowl at her. “You just said we’re going off to save the world, milady. This isn’t a jolly. I wouldn’t be going otherwise.”

  “Precisely. You get all the fun and all the glory, while I’m stuck here minding your brats and hoeing cabbages.”

  “You could come too.”

  “Not on your nelly. We’re not leaving the kids without any parent on-planet, and we’re not taking them. I’d rather stay here, guard the fort, and use this against you for the next century or so. But you go off and have fun, ok? And stay safe.” She’s getting teary now. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, unless you have to or you really want to. And come home.”

  Asher scoops her up onto his lap. “Milady, our return is almost certainly guaranteed. The oracle foretold it, remember?”

  “I don’t care about the oracle. I care about you two coming home. You get back here, you hear me? Don’t make me come and get you.”

  We spend the rest of the day trying to maintain a semblance of normality for the sake of the kids. They’re used to us going off all the time, but never two of us at the same time and hardly ever on a mission without an end date. All and still, I’m sure they’d take this very well if we could. The problem is that I can’t.

  Asher and Gwen are splendid: they feel awful, but they manage to treat the day like any other day. I feel as if I’m seconds away from turning into a blubbering mess all the way through. I don’t, because that would be bad for the kids, but it’s an ongoing struggle. I’m so glad I managed to find partners so much stronger than me. Thanks to their resilience, we manage to have a normal family day. Perhaps we pack less work and more play in it than usual, but that’s what we aim for anyway, probably because we all nearly died at least once. Gwenny holds the record for that, though for a while Jojo was trying to beat her. We know that life is fragile and we want to pack as much living into it as we can. Maybe this is why this planet is so cool, or so good for us: everyone here knows, really knows, that it’s a miracle that they’re alive.

  The kids have a good time, though I fear that they realize that this isn’t one of our usual a trips. Under normal circumstances they would have spurned us to focus on our visitors, who still hold a lot of novelty value. Instead they choose to bestow their attention upon us. That is how I feel: my wonderful kids are willingly giving me their time and attention, and it’s a blessing. I know a lot of parents who get fed up of their kids’ company and I can’t begin to understand them. Then again, their kids aren’t a patch on mine. No other kids are.

  When the time comes for us to leave, they all walk us to the spaceport. It’s not as merry a walk as the one that took us to the same ship only a few days ago but it’s good enough, and every moment I get to spend with them is precious. Kolya joins us at the spaceport and says his goodbyes as emotionally as he pleases. I don’t trust myself to do the same without losing it completely, so I hold myself together until the ship door shuts. After that I hole myself up in the ‘fresher for a few minutes, until Asher tracks me down and cheers me up enough to make me fit to be seen.

  If anything could cheer me up, it’s Asher’s company. I love watching him get into a new ship. It doesn’t matter what the ship is like, how well it flies, or even if it flies at all. He acts the same way regardless: wide-eyed, oohing and aahing, and barely controlling his urge to touch everything. He’s like a kid in a candy store. Not that I’ve ever seen a candy store, with or without kids in it, but that’s how I imagine it.

  This time round his excitement seems more than justified. I’m not an expert, though I can fly well enough to do it for a living, but this has got to be the best ship we’ve ever been in. The best we’ve flown up to now has been Fed-owned, and they’re utility-driven and always trying to cut costs when it doesn’t affect any first-classers. Throwing yourself into space in a vessel built and maintained by the lowest bidders is always a hoot.

  Nobody even considered cutting costs with this ship, that’s obvious. Everything about it is both comfortable and beautiful, and the technical specs are so good that Asher’s ears went bright red when he was reading them – a sure sign that he’s beyond pleased, as Gwen could testify.

  “Does she really handle like this? Have you tested her?”

  Alya smiles at him. “All as advertised, captain. But you’ll have to take it easy on us, I’m afraid. The master of this ship has a sensitive stomach.”

  “I most certainly do not!” sputters Raj as he straps himself down in the seat next to mine. “I’ve not been space sick since I was an infant!”

  “Ok. You’re a nervous flier. Is that fair?”

  “No. I’m a perfectly calm flier. I just have things I want to do that require me not to have died in a completely preventable crash.”

  Alya crosses her arms and purses her lips. “Are you saying that you don’t trust me?”

  “I do. I just trust you more when you’re not trying to kill me.”

  This looks like the sort of argument Asher and Gwen have; the kind that doesn’t really go anywhere but keeps on going, and doesn’t really achieve anything beyond proving that they’re still together and still themselves, neither of them willing to give an inch and both perfectly happy to butt heads indefinitely just for the privilege of being together. Asher seems to think the same, judging by his grin.

  “Guys, I’d appreciate it if you could hold off killing each other until I’ve had a chance to have a play. I promise to take it easy, unless there’s an operational need to do otherwise. It’ll be a struggle, though. I’d like to see what this girl can do.”

  Alya throws herself into the co-pilot seat. “You’ll have to push her enough to learn how she handles: there’s your operational need right there. The shields and cloaks you already know, and I need to learn. The guns are mine; Raj’s if I conk out. We’ll have to decide who takes over from him if he conks out, too. Luke’s a fair pilot and a brilliant shot.”

  “Quinn’s a good pilot and an average shot, so that’s that sorted. But aren’t you going to fly her?”

  “You’re the pilot, aren’t you?”

  “Well, yeah, but I didn’t think you’d just let me take her.”

  “Well, I’m not having you sit on my lap to fly her: I’d get squished. Get on with it.”

  “Are you sure?” He’s literally quivering in anticipation.

  “Yes! You’re the hotshot whose job it is to get us out of the shit if the need arises. You need to familiarize yourself with her, don’t you?”

  “Sure do. Operational need?”

  “That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it?”

  “When it fits, yes. It keeps things consistent, and that way I don’t get my excuses all muddled up. Gwen spots that kind of thing.”

  Her eyeroll is nearly as good as our Gwen’s. I guess they both get a lot of practice.

  Asher sits in the pilot’s chair before factoring in the height difference between him and Alya, so his knees end up about level with his ears. Alya’s guffaws are not unlike Gwen’s, either. I guess I should find that comforting, but it just makes me miss my Gwen more and we’ve not even left yet.

  I’m doing my level best to keep calm an
d collected, to remind myself that this trip is a necessity, a temporary inconvenience, an opportunity to take a break from my home life. That line of reasoning may work better if I had the least inclination to take a break from home, but I don’t. I’d rather give up a kidney than leave, but that wouldn’t stop the Fed coming for us.

  Either I’m particularly bad at hiding my feelings today or Asher knows me too well to fall for my performance. While Alya starts the pre-flight checks, he comes over to sit next to me.

  “Hey, gorgeous. You don’t have to do this, you know? You can stay home. We’ll manage.” He says it so gently that my eyes start filling up.

  “The prophecy saw two of us go.”

  “Fuck the prophecy.”

  “Gwenny wants you to be under adult supervision.”

  “She sure does. But you can still stay home and she would understand. We know you’re willing to come. You don’t have anything to prove to us. You know that, right?”

  That does it. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t cry again, and I don’t know why I bothered.

  “I know. But we’ve got stuff to do. I’ll just miss them so much.”

  “I know. Me too. Just think about it, ok? You’ve got a couple of minutes to change your mind.”

  He kisses me on the forehead and goes back to his seat. His walk has lost all its bounce. I know this isn’t any easier for him than it is for me; he just has more practice than me at doing hard things.

  Raj clears his throat. When I turn around to look at him, he gives me an encouraging smile.

  “They’ll be fine. Aiden is watching for trouble and has the codes for my private channel. Anteian ships can outfly the Fed without even trying.”

  “Thank you. It’s just that leaving them is so damn hard. They can cope without me perfectly well. Me without them, that I’m not so sure of.”

  “You’ll be fine. Asher will look after you. If leaving home wasn’t hard, I’d worry about your life.”

  Luke is taking his seat just then and seems to freeze in mid-air for a moment. When he finally lands, his face is completely blank.

  Asher turns around to look at me over his shoulder with a question in his eyes. I nod as bravely as I can, which isn’t very. He nods back, turns around, and starts the flight sequence.

  As we lift off I don’t know what is pushing my insides into the floor: the g-force or the weight of my sadness.

  It must have been about 50-50, because when our course stabilizes I feel much better. I still feel awful about leaving home, but I’m in a ship with Asher and that’s never a bad thing. We used to fly together a lot in the early days after the Academy, when Gwen was expecting and couldn’t fly and we had no other means to earn a living. I’ve missed hitting space with him more than I realized, but definitely not enough to make me leave home. Now that I have, I’m determined to make the best of it. I know he will help me.

  Asher unstraps, stretches, and throws me a smile before coming over to us, Alya on his trail.

  “Course is set. I should be out of a job until we reach our destination, and it’s past my bedtime. What do you want to do watch-wise?”

  Raj shrugs. “You know your system better than I do. Generally we don’t bother. The warning systems are as good as we can make them and they’re set to shoot first and ask questions later. I can’t remember the last time anyone took on an Anteian ship, anyway. It wasn’t within my lifetime. We made it work out very costly for the people involved.”

  Asher’s eyes widen. “Ok, then. I guess we’ll turn in and trust in the knowledge that we’re too damn scary. This could take me a while to get used to, but I think I’ll grow to like it.”

  Luke gets off his seat. “If you’d prefer to have someone on watch, I can stay up.” His voice is perfectly neutral but there is a wistful edge to his expression.

  Alya growls up at him. “Kid, you need sleep same as we all do.”

  “I can sleep when you’re up. It’s not a problem.”

  She closes her eyes and suddenly looks exhausted. “Say ‘operational need’ to me and I’ll staple your lips shut. You do whatever you want. You will anyway.”

  I’m not sure whether he sits back down to be eye-to-eye with her or his legs just give up on him.

  “Alya? I didn’t mean… I was just offering.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Much obliged.”

  I don’t know why this would be a big deal to them, but it obviously is and I dearly wish I wasn’t here to see it. Luke is still trying to get her to look at him and failing when Asher puts his arm through mine.

  “Come on, gorgeous. You need your beauty sleep.”

  “Don’t be impertinent. And you don’t?”

  “I’m too far gone for that to help, but there’s hope for you yet.”

  We wish everyone a good night and get out of there as fast as we can. We exchange a look as we’re walking off, but by the time we get to our room I have forgotten about Luke’s antics. All I can think about is the fact that Gwenny won’t share our bed tonight, that the kids won’t be just next door, that we’re speeding away from them as fast as this ship allows us. Asher spends a good deal of time letting me pine about it. He knows me too well to try and cheer me up about something that affects me this badly. He just holds me and lets me do my hurting until we fall asleep tangled together.

  When I wake up in the middle of the night panicking because I can’t feel the kids, Asher’s arms are still around me. I remember where I am and realize that this is it, that I’ve reached the limits of my psi-bility and I am cut off from the kids and Gwenny until we come back, and my panic turns to sobbing. Asher holds me tighter and tells me everything he can to comfort me. I’d feel guilty about putting him through it all if I didn’t know that it’s good for him, too. He feels no better than I do and he’s telling me all the things he doesn’t give himself the right to tell himself. I hope he gives himself the right to hear them.

  11. Luke

  Saying goodbye to Kolya is hard. It would have been hard anyway, but knowing that it’s probably the last time I’ll see him makes it so much harder. I keep having to remind myself that I need to keep it together. I need to do him proud. I want him to think well of me, to know that I did my best. I know it doesn’t mean much because my best is pretty crummy, but I hope it’ll be enough for him. If I'm good enough for him, then I’m good enough.

  Watching Asher and Quinn say bye to their families is almost worse. It’s not just that they obviously hate parting, though that isn’t easy to watch. The really shitty thing is how fucking jealous it makes me feel. Leaving Anteia was no harder for me than leaving the circus, leaving the circus no harder than leaving home, and leaving home was the easiest thing in the world. I thought back then that it was normal, the natural reaction to things being so shitty back there. Leaving was better than staying, so why should it have been hard? Now I think there’s more to it than that. I think I’m broken. There’s something fucked up or just missing inside me, and I just can’t get attached anywhere.

  The problem isn’t that I can leave home: it’s that I’m never home in the first place. I’m just living somewhere with some people. I never belong. Maybe it’s something I do. Maybe it’s something I am that makes me unable to attach. Maybe I just suck so fucking much that people don’t want anything to do with me unless there’s something in it for them, they’re kind like Raj, or have a fucked-up sense of responsibility like Alya.

  I can’t sleep, so I spend hours looking at my ceiling – Raj’s ceiling, in Raj’s ship, in which I’m just a visitor – thinking about how much easier Alya’s life will be when I’m gone. She’ll have so much less to worry about. I know she doesn’t get it now, I know she’ll be sad for a while, but when it lands on her how much of a relief it is not to have to look after some shithead kid she picked up by chance in a past life, I think she’ll be happy.

  That hurts. It hurts so much I want to scream, but I don’t want her to hear me. I don’t want to bother her any more than I already do.


  I’m starting to get real scared about the whole dying thing. The further we go the closer it comes, and something inside me is starting to rebel against it, to want to run away. It doesn’t care about the pain I’d be leaving behind, or it doesn’t care enough: it’s more scared of dying than of hurting. I can’t let it win me over. I drown it out by reminding myself of how few people will care, and how much better their lives will be for it.

  Alya gave me the best three years of my life. I have no idea what I would have ended up doing if she’d not picked me up in Celeano, or if she’d not kept me with her in Anteia. She’s given me more than I thought I’d ever have. Now it’s time I return the favor. It’s time I give Alya her life back.

  I don’t know why I bother trying to sleep, because it takes it out of me more than staying awake. Habit, I guess. When I wake up I feel like my body’s full of lead and my head full of fluff. There’s sand in my eyes, too. I have to get functional before Alya gets up, so I drag myself up and out to get some coffee.

  When I get to the kitchen, Asher and Quinn are already in there. They’re holding hands over the table. They let go when I walk in, but I don’t know why they bother. They’re still holding hands with their eyes, kinda thing.

  If there’s one good thing about them is that they seem to understand about pre-caffeinated states. Neither of them tries to chat at me while I fuel up. They talk to each other in very subdued tones, too. It’s no effort at all to tune them out.

  I’m about halfway through my second cup when Quinn gets up and starts rummaging around. After a couple of minutes I can’t ignore her anymore.

  “What exactly are you doing?”

  “Cooking breakfast. Alya said it was ok if we got up before her.”

  “Cooking, yeah, sure. What you’re doing right now, that I’m not so sure about.”

  She bristles up. “What exactly is your problem?”

  “You’re fucking it up. You’re mixing dough, not concrete.”