by Casey Lea
The Leader turned back at once and slapped a healing field onto the chest of the young kres. Wing glanced at that transparent wrap and looked instantly away. A ring of charred skin had folded back around the boy's heart and a lung. Wing's mouth worked, gathering saliva to ask the vital question. "How old is he?"
Shearwing queried his scan results. "He's twenty, plus or minus a year. Don't guilt, sar. He was old enough to infiltrate your family quarters."
Wing pushed roughly past armored chests, ignoring the hard edges that grazed his elbows. He crouched beside Shearwing to study the boy more closely. A blue-black sweep of hair almost obscured eyelids that were starting to flicker. They opened and their gaze met his. Wing rocked back onto his heels. He had no idea why, because the stranger's eyes were gray. A very ordinary kres color, so why did they seem to see straight through him? Wing looked away. "Your scan analysis, Shear. Send it to my com."
Shearwing's wrist band glowed and the information flowed to Wing. He rose and turned away, straight into his son. Jace was on tiptoes craning to see past his father.
"Look at that," Jace said, while his fronds sent disbelief and admiration, along with an image of the intruder's antiquated com. "Look at that piece of old shi-"
“Jace,” his father warned and the youngster swallowed his last word to move on to the point of his comment.
“I mean, how did he do it? How did he reach us with such limited technology?”
Most like with help, Wing said silently to the family circle. Sharpeye's I suspect. He doubtless wants warning on what to expect from the Alliance delegation.
The intruder's chest heaved with sudden effort and a rasping laugh rose, along with the acrid smell of seared skin. “Didn't need help. Was easy. I can break 'n enter anywhere.”
“I'm sure,” Wing agreed, studying the attacker coldly, from his scuffed, too large boots, to his shaggy black hair. The boy was Rim rubbish if he'd ever seen it. He couldn't be their missing son. It was a trick of some sort.
Wing's gaze shifted to the stranger's face again, to those eyes as gray as Kresynt's winter. They locked with his and Wing felt suddenly angry. Neither he nor Darsey had gray eyes. “Who hired you?”
The intruder coughed and a fine spray of blood spattered Wing's feet making him jerk back. He strode forward again at once, ignoring the mess, to press extra regen from his own com into the stranger's chest. “Who sent you?”
Gray eyes shifted slowly to resume that challenging stare. “My mother. Looking for my father. Didn't expect the red carpet. Didn't expect to get shot either.”
“Don't sneak into a kres nest then,” Wing said. He spared another look for his family. “It's likely a lie. Jace, get back.”
Shearwing and Mashishanga each hooked a mailed fist under Jace's arms and propelled him backward. "Hey," he protested, but everyone ignored him. Wing turned back to the boy on the ground and his single frond rose to point at that still figure. "Honesty will bring the best results. Do you claim to be seeking your father?"
Pale gray fronds rose toward Wing and he felt the truth behind the intruder's reply. "No."
Wing paused in surprise and used his com to check his memory. "You said you were here to look for your father."
"True, but I no longer need to because I've found him."
"Your father is on this ship?"
"In this room."
There was a stir among the guards and Wing suppressed a smile. One of his men was in for a shock. "What's your father's name?"
Their eyes met again and a something cold ran down Wing's spine. The boy smiled. "Nightwing IceFlight."
Everyone in the room grew very still, or at least Wing was unaware of any reaction from them. His frond noticed Darsey step back, but her movement made no impression at all. He was too busy making a desperate, revealing plea that was sent only to the stranger. Are you the son we lost? Myself and Darsey?
A single dark eyebrow rose on a forehead beaded with sweat. The boy's fronds flinched at Wing's pain and sent an instant response. Shock/regret/pity. No. You're the only parent I have aboard.
Wing's anger returned tenfold. "Do you claim me as father, boy?"
"My mother does."
Nightwing scowled and made his mind implacable. “I fear she is mistaken.”
The mental blast in response was enough to make them all wince. “Never imply my mother lies. You left her for dead and you have no right.”
Wing drew a deep breath, sucking down anger and pain, before stepping forward to crouch beside the shaking youth. “I'm sorry for your hurt and I do regret shooting you.”
But will do it again if you so much as twitch, Jace's thought slipped into their minds, followed instantly by an apology. Sorry, coping mechanism.
His father continued without response. “I assure you,” he looked around at Darsey “all, that from your age, which looks much the same as my son's, I was never intimate with your mother.”
The injured youngster sucked back his anger and his voice was just as steady when he spoke. “You wish proof? Check my DNA. You've spread plenty along the hall. It'll match. I swear it on my mother, Dr. Harrier Plume, once Royal Physician.”
“Harry? You're Harry's son-” Wing stopped mid-sentence, biting off his last word. “No. No. Harry's dead. She died years past in a ch't'kar wreck. We saw it.” He looked to his wife for support and she nodded solemnly. "So you can't be her son," Wing insisted. "It's just not true."
The patient started coughing and pushed himself up onto his elbows. He made the mistake of looking down at his chest and paled. "Guano."
Wing put an arm around his shoulders to help support him. Shearwing stirred beside them, but settled at a glance from his admiral. "I'm sorry," Wing said and sent sincerity to the bewildered boy. "You're in shock, but that explains this confusion. You're certain-sure not thinking true-"
The stranger interrupted with a surprisingly genuine laugh. "So I've been promoted from liar to confused. I suppose that's something."
He started coughing again and Darsey joined them. She pressed more regen carefully over the layers already in place and laid her hand on Wing's forearm. "Check his DNA."
Wing jerked his arm back as if his wife had dug her nails into it. "He's not my son."
"Then it won't hurt to check. Right? Wing?" Darsey's voice shook on his name and he suddenly realized that she was scared. She thought it might actually be true. He took her hand at once and gently squeezed it.
"Kay." Reassurance/certainty/love Wing scraped a strip of drying blood from the carpet and rose with the sample. He turned away, pacing back down the hall, while his com analyzed it. It was easy not to check the patterns as they formed. He knew the boy couldn't be his son.
The com thrummed softly against his wrist and Wing looked down with complete confidence. The results spiraled through the air above his arm. Bands of DNA laid out in matching batches - father and son, mother and son.
Wing walked into a wall. He swore and bounced off, his head spinning. His face hurt, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except the turmoil in his chest. The results in front of him were unbelievable. How could this have happened? Gods, he was losing it. He knew how this sort of thing happened, but the timing was impossible.
"It's true," Darsey stated softly. "Isn't it? I mean, he's just like you." She was standing, facing Wing and he had no idea what to say. "Just say yes," she whispered and he gave a nod. A brief, human lifting of the chin.
There was total silence and no one moved. The guards stood rigidly at attention, with their eyes raised and focused far away. Everyone was very still for an impossibly awkward moment, before Jace moved. He walked forward and dropped to a crouch beside, well, beside his brother.
"Hi, I'm Jace." He offered his arm and the injured kres gripped it firmly.
"Falkyn. It's nice to finally meet."
Wing watched them clasp forearms, but the sight of his sons together left him unmoved. How could it be true? He cleared his throat and both boys looked up
. He gazed vaguely back, still trying to understand. "Falkyn," a distant voice asked and it sounded surprisingly like his own, "do you have a link address? For your mother."
The ancient com around the prodigal's wrist hummed with unexpected power and instantly connected with passage space. An image appeared in front of them. A familiar form was bending over a med bed and murmuring softly to the massive bulk lying on it. The doctor had her back to them, but Wing still recognized her. After all, Harrier Plume had been one of his closest friends. He cleared his throat again and she straightened at once. "Harry?"
She turned and Wing froze, staring at features that were unexpectedly changed. It was Harrier all right, but she was old. Her hair was salt and pepper, while wrinkles creased her face and her shoulders were rounded. He studied her blankly, mute with shock. She wasn't even four hundred yet. How could she be so aged?
She smiled and her wrinkles lifted into less obvious lines. “Wing.”
Nightwing's frown deepened and his brow puckered, before he launched himself at the hologram, making it blur where his body intersected it. “Harry?” he demanded inches from her face and her smile faltered. “Truly?”
“Truly,” she whispered and her hair stirred shyly, but then her grin returned. Wing felt his own lips curve in response, before her eyes dropped and she stiffened in horror at what she saw on the floor. "Oh my gods. Falkyn, what happened? How badly are you hurt? Your tutors swore you were ready for this."
"I am, Mai. I'm fine."
"I thought you were safe, past all security."
"So did I, but I forgot the final layer."
"I don't understand-"
"I shot him," Wing snapped and forced himself to meet Harrier's stare. She shook her fingers 'no' in disbelief, but then her face crumpled and tears appeared in her eyes.
"You shot our son?"
Wing felt a new weight settle on his shoulders. It was true. He really had shot his own son.
"He didn't know," Falkyn and Jace said together. Two eyebrows shot up, one on each boy and they looked at each other in surprise. Jace abruptly grinned and gestured for his brother to continue. Falkyn nodded graciously and sat up further, to look straight at his mother.
"It was my fault. I didn't introduce myself. I had it all rehearsed, but it wasn't that easy to start. You can't just jump out of a camouflage field shouting 'Hi, Patri'." Falkyn shrugged and grimaced. "They were talking too and I was curious-"
Harrier gave a gasping laugh and sniffed loudly. "Your worst fault. Have you identified your mistake yet?"
"Sneaking up on Nightwing."
"Indeed." Harrier's eyes moved back to her old friend and her smile returned. This time Wing grinned easily back. Harry truly was alive and he really had another son. Life was unexpectedly perfect, except for the questions. He felt his smile falter, but locked his eyes on Harrier anyway. "I grieved for you.”
“And I for you.”
Wing shook his head at that, trying to clear it. “When did you learn I still lived?”
“Last week.”
"Oh." They studied each other intently and Darsey shifted awkwardly, but then stilled herself. Wing caught a hint of pain from her direction, before her frond smoothed flat and all emotion vanished. He frowned, refusing to be distracted. There was too much he needed to know before he could reassure his wife.
"You've verified his DNA?" Harrier asked, pre-empting his questions with one of her own.
"Indeed."
Harry smiled and then laughed when her patient began to snore. She perched on the edge of his bed and her shoulders slumped further. "That's a relief. So you accept him as your son?"
"Of course. But we do need to talk. How are you still alive?"
"I wasn't aboard the ch't'kar ship. Its owner ran, but I refused to leave with him. I had a patient in desperate need. The boy who helped us, Malik, he was shot by t'ssaa. He was talking with them in the distance and I saw him go down. He would have died if I'd left, so I didn't."
Wing had to smile again at that. Some things never changed and he’d always loved Harry's compassion. "Good. It's nice to know that sometimes it pays to be impossibly stubborn. There's still much I don't understand though. I'd been exiled for years, so how can Falkyn be the same age as Jace?"
"Easy, Admiral. I was pregnant when the t'ssaa took me."
"Of course," Wing said with sudden understanding, "they kept you in stasis for three years. So you were still with child when Darsey and I saved you. But why didn't you say?"
Harrier squirmed and shrugged. "I planned to. I just wished for some privacy first. There was more I needed to explain."
"I know," Wing agreed. "I saw the DNA match-"
"Not here," Harrier interrupted. "Not yet. Falkyn's been shot and needs proper healing. Don't you have medics on board?"
Falkyn groaned in response. "Mai, don't fuss."
Mashishanga stamped a booted foot and despite the thick carpet, everyone jumped. "Med team is twenty seconds out. They've brought a secure med float across the ship, which is a five-minute run."
"No," Darsey objected and Wing looked at her in surprise. "No security float and no guards. Put the patient in our bed. Now, please. His parents wish to talk." She rose to kiss Wing's cheek, before following the strike team as they hoisted Falkyn down the corridor. Wing warmed with pride at her willingness to help his unexpected offspring. She was a most amazing mate, which brought him back to the last of his questions. He turned to Harrier and their voices fell to a whisper as they began discussing Falkyn's future.
12
Family
Something had wound so tight in Darsey's chest it was increasingly hard to breathe. However, she ignored it, drawing in air through her mouth as she followed the guards. Jace fell into stride with her and slid a supportive hand under her elbow. She leaned on him, feeling gray and stooped, as if middle age had finally ambushed her, which was ridiculous. She was fast approaching fifty, but with kres longevity treatment she shouldn’t be feeling it.
Darsey clung to her son anyway and they entered the bedroom together, but she stopped at the foot of the bed. The strike team stamped from the room, although Shearwing paused in the doorway. "We'll be just outside."
He left, pushing his way past the arriving med team. They crowded into the room, claiming either side of the bed and began working on Falkyn. He looked unexpectedly small in the enormous bed, lost under a dome of regenerative energy.
Darsey looked away, just as Wing entered the room. She turned to her husband with relief, but he was still dragging that hologram of Harrier behind him. They both went straight past Darsey and Jace, to find a place beside Falkyn's head.
"I need to say farewell,” Harrier said softly, but her voice sharpened when she looked down at her son. “Smooth that arterial seal, you don't want plaque forming." The medic in question jumped at Harrier's order, but his hands and mind moved quickly to comply. She sniffed and looked at her son's face again, then started prattling on about how wonderful Falkyn was and what a joy he’d been to raise.
Darsey felt her mind glazing over, even when she tried her hardest to pay attention. It sounded like the boy was going to be staying with them. For some time, and she tried very hard not to have an opinion about that. After all, her husband had two sons again, which was wonderful for him. She could hardly imagine such bliss. She kept struggling for air, until a hand closed over hers. She looked up at Jace and he frowned back.
You kay?
Of course. I'm very happy for you. And your father.
Mom-
Really. Now stop distracting me. Darsey squeezed her son's fingers gratefully, before concentrating on the hologram again. She forced a smile and nodded pleasantly. Hopefully it looked like she was listening. After all, what sort of person wouldn't be thrilled when her husband found a long-lost bastard child? Darsey's cheeks grew hot with shame and she looked quickly at Jace. Fortunately he seemed to have missed her thought. She turned back to Harrier, who was talking to Wing again, and t
ried very hard to pay attention.
“Then you know the danger Falkyn could face from Sharpeye,” said the ageing kres.
Wing clenched his fists and his concern for his son was easy to feel. “Certain-sure. The Arck has taken full control of the line of succession.”
“Sadly yes. The True Liners will have trouble ousting his son.”
“True Liners?”
“Those of us who support your superior claim to the throne.”
“What?” Darsey demanded, suddenly focused again and Wing looked at her briefly.
“I've no idea.” He turned back to Harrier, who looked sympathetic, despite a slight smile. “What superior claim?”
“The claims of blood and right. Your mother was the only daughter of the last true Arck, Hawkeye the Great. She should have taken the throne, father to daughter, but with her death it should have passed to you, mother to son. Sharpeye is a usurper. Your uncle never should have ruled. He took advantage of your youth to claim a regency that became something more. He ordered all record of his regency expunged and any knowledge of it kept from you, on threat of imprisonment. If he could have killed you outright he would have, but even exiling you was a mistake. Discontent with the false Arck has grown and now we have some powerful supporters.”
Darsey started to have problems with her air supply again. How did her husband suddenly become the rightful heir to an alien empire? Wasn't it enough to throw illegitimate offspring at her? She struggled to get a grip and Jace twined his fingers through hers. She squeezed his hand and held on tight.
Harrier had turned from Wing to look sadly at her own son. “This dictated your path too, Fal. It's why I've sent you to your father. It's also why I raised you so strangely, out on the Rim. Apprenticed to a master thief, but also taught everything from debating and dueling to strategy and dance. You've always had a destiny-”
“Hold!” Falkyn interrupted, pushing up onto his elbows, despite the resistance of the regen globe. The meds clucked and protested, but he ignored them. “What do you mean sent? I came to get his help extracting you from that cesspit clinic on Gratuity.”
