by T. M. Catron
While at Waystation 10, Rance contracted to courier a shipment of completely ordinary, harmless neural circuits for a small armorer. The circuits were used in heads-up displays for custom helmets. The most out-of-the-ordinary thing about them was that they were legal. Rance triple-checked the company’s credentials before agreeing to transport them. She didn’t want any more trouble, nor was she keen to endanger her crew’s lives again.
Ever.
Two days after taking on their cargo, Rance walked the ship on night patrol. She padded through the peaceful ship in her bare feet. The ice-cold metal floor bit into her skin, but it felt good, kept her alert. Being in her bare feet wouldn’t be prudent if they ran into trouble, but Rance’s broken toe, although healed, still ached when she crammed it into boots. Her other injuries were in varying states of healing, but she could walk and move around without much discomfort.
Always having someone on duty didn’t use to matter much in hyperspace. Unless the Star Streaker was going to be sucked into a black hole, they had been safe in their little dimensional time bubble. But ever since Solaris had told her that the empire had ships that could follow another ship into hyperspace, Rance had insisted someone be on duty continuously.
She walked into the galley, intent on finding a midnight snack. Since Solaris had gone to bed hours before, she was surprised to see him sitting at the table, eating a piece of double chocolate cake. Beside him, his handset sat on the table, projecting a holographic, 3D puzzle into the air. He swiped lazily at a puzzle piece, assembling a monochromatic image that looked like an ancient sailboat on the water.
After weeks of tightening their belts, the crew could finally afford to feed themselves. Moira had paid Rance handsomely for getting her off Prometheus. After the loss of Sonya, Rance hadn’t wanted to take the money. It didn’t seem right to profit from so much loss. She would have gone to Prometheus even if they had known about the pirates ahead of time.
Rebels, not pirates, she reminded herself.
But Tally had pointed out that if Rance didn’t take the money, their days of flying from system to system would be over. And the crew needed to be paid, the Star Streaker repaired. It had received some minor damage to the hull during their flight, but also several circuits boards had needed replacing after Deliverance shorted them out.
Rance grabbed a clean fork from a drawer and leaned across the table to steal a bite of Solaris’ cake. Chocolate wasn’t her favorite, but she figured her body was still healing from all its injuries, and she needed the extra fuel.
“Did you learn to steal cake at your father’s dinner parties?” Solaris asked without looking up from his puzzle. His face had almost healed, his humor somewhat returned. He’d been more quiet than usual, though. They all had.
The cake was better than Rance had expected. She sat down across from him and smiled ruefully. “Davos’ chef used to make cakes so tall they reached the ceiling of the solarium. Or they mimicked the purple fountains in the courtyard, with icing that looked like flowing water.”
“You lived such a hard life out on Xanthes.”
“It had its challenges. Ever been to a nobleman’s party?”
“Once, on Triton.”
Rance raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really.”
“Lots of fake hair, copious amounts of makeup, and more scheming than a cave fox in a hen house.”
“What were you doing at a party on Triton?”
“Chasing down an interplanetary assassin.”
“You’re just making that up.”
Solaris swiped the final piece of his puzzle into place and then looked up. “I’m not. Former Galaxy Wizard, remember?”
“So, tell me about that.”
“The assassin?”
“Being a Galaxy Wizard.”
“As I told you a few days ago, those aren’t things I can talk about.”
Rance rolled her eyes. “Just talk about it in general. I’m not looking for imperial secrets. Do you miss it?”
Solaris sat back, regarding her. “Do you miss being a nobleman’s daughter?”
Rance shook her head. “No.”
“Well then.” Solaris looked back at his cake as if he’d just answered her question.
“But you’re thinking of going back,” she said, realization taking hold. The idea made her stomach queasy, although she didn’t want to think about why.
“If rebels are openly attacking Core worlds, the Wizards will need everyone they can get.”
“Will they accept you back? I thought you were a wanted man.”
“I am. And I haven’t changed my mind about their new methods. But under extenuating circumstances, they might grant clemency so I can work for them again. There aren’t enough Galaxy Wizards anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Recruitment is low. They handpick people. Orphans, mostly.”
Rance remembered what Solaris had told her that night at Moira’s, while they watched Prometheus burn, about losing his family when he was very young. “Orphans like you?”
He nodded. “Like me.”
“Do you think of yourself as an orphan?”
“Nah.” He smiled. “I have you, Captain,” he said, then added as an afterthought, “…and the crew. Before that, I had the other Wizards. They were my family.”
“I imagine they are holding a grudge since you left.”
“You could say that.”
Rance eyed the rest of his cake. She was burning with questions. Her curiosity had intensified ever since they’d left Prometheus, but she’d never found the opportunity to question him. Until now. “What did you do to become the most wanted man in the Galaxy?”
Solaris smirked. “Thought you didn’t like chocolate.”
“This chocolate is okay.”
“Why?”
“Because it had already been dished out. I was feeling too lazy to fix myself something.” Rance stole another bite and winked at him.
Solaris looked at her warmly. “Are you flirting, Rance Cooper?”
Rance turned as red as their pet cappatter’s fur and choked on her cake. She sputtered for an embarrassing length of time, in which Solaris got her a cup of water and stood at the ready, possibly to do the Heimlich maneuver.
When Rance managed to breathe again, she waved him off. “I’m not going to die.”
“Good. It would be unfortunate if your dying breath were used to flirt with me.”
Rance took a sip of the water and washed down the burning in her throat. “I only wanted your cake, not to flirt with you.”
Solaris sat down across the table and laughed, his first in days. “You could have asked.”
Then, he pushed the rest of it over to her.
Rance smiled at the gesture, but she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore after she’d nearly asphyxiated on the last bite.
“So?” she asked. “Why do the Galaxy Wizards want you so badly?”
“It’s complicated.”
Rance waited for Solaris to begin the story. But he didn’t. Instead, he busied himself with turning the holographic puzzle around and around on its axis.
“I don’t have those portentous dreams much anymore,” he whispered after a moment.
Rance lowered her voice, too, although they were the only crew members awake. “The ones about the galaxy burning? Isn’t that a good thing?”
Solaris met her eyes. Pain and regret crossed his face. His eyes had taken on a haunted look, one Rance was surprised to see on him.
He took a deep breath. “It makes me wonder if I left the Wizards for nothing. What if those dreams were just… dreams? Leftover nightmares from my childhood?”
“Then you left an organization you still didn’t agree with. Isn’t that the right thing?”
“Yes. And no. Not the way I left it.”
When Solaris didn’t elaborate, Rance toyed with pressing him for more information, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Whatever the reason, Solaris was haunted by something. If he w
anted to share, he would.
To steer the conversation toward a more innocuous topic, Rance asked, “How did you meet Harrison McConnell, then? Please tell me he wasn’t the assassin.”
Solaris snorted. “I thought you knew him?”
“I do—I’m still technically betrothed to him.”
“Then you know that Harrison couldn’t assassinate anybody if they laid down at his feet and did it for him.”
Rance laughed. “So how did you meet him?”
“By chance. After leaving the Wizards, I hitched a ride to Xanthes to look for work, and for a lowly position on a ship where I could stay under the radar. Harrison was at the spaceport one day while I was asking around. His father runs it, apparently.” Solaris looked to Rance for confirmation.
She nodded. “That and ten others across Xanthes.”
“And yet you don’t want to marry Harrison? Why not?” Solaris grinned mischievously.
Rance looked at the last bit of cake. Maybe it wouldn’t kill her. She stuck her fork into it. “Like you said, I’ve met him. That’s enough to deter anybody. So, then what happened?”
“I asked if he knew of anyone needing a crew member, showed him my credentials.”
“Your fake credentials. You lied to me.”
“I didn’t. Everything I told you about me is true.”
“You didn’t go to the Xanthes Flight Academy.”
“Not as a student, but I was there. Undercover as an officer.”
“And the Renegade and Destroyers you served on?”
“Again, undercover.”
Rance finished off the cake and looked at him. The haunted look had passed, and she was glad of her decision to direct the conversation elsewhere. She wasn’t any less curious though.
“You do get around,” she said. “It must be hard to stay happy on a small space cruiser when you can have all that undercover excitement.”
“I don’t know,” Solaris said thoughtfully. “There’s been quite enough excitement for me here. Before you hired me, did you always get into so much trouble? Or is that just something that happened after you had me around to get you out of jams?”
Rance scoffed. “I got out of plenty of tight spots before I met you. Which reminds me.”
Solaris raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“What did you do to me on Prometheus? In the crowd.” She didn’t have to add that it was after they’d found out about Sonya’s death. Solaris would know what she meant. Rance had been furious with the pirates. He had used some sort of trick to calm her down and probably saved her life. Attacking those pirates alone would have been suicide.
“Are you offended?” he asked.
“At first.”
Solaris frowned. “And now?”
“No. I know you were only trying to help. But we’ve never talked about this.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that you are the most powerful man I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t think about me that way. I’m the same as you.”
“Yeah right.”
“I am. Listen, Captain, I’d prefer you to think of me as an ordinary guy.”
Rance leaned forward, placing her hands on the table. “Solaris, your powers are beyond comprehension. I could never beat you in a fight. And you’re on board my ship, running loose.”
Amusement flashed in his eyes. “Running loose? I’m not a pet who wreaks havoc. You already have one of those.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what? You’re not afraid of me.”
Rance shook her head. “No. I trust you, which is why I’m not offended that you did some mind-altering magic to keep me from making a mistake. But again, we’ve never talked about this.”
Solaris took a deep breath and spread his arms out in an open gesture. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“What will you tell me?”
“Anything I can. Just no specifics about assignments. I should have explained more before now, but we were all getting along…”
“We’re still getting along. But you can’t blame me for being curious. Before I met you, I thought the Galaxy Wizards were a myth.”
“Where should I start?”
“If you’re a wizard, why don’t you wear a cloak?” Rance swished her arms out to her side, mimicking the movement of flowing fabric behind her.
Solaris snorted. “The cloak question again? Those went out of style centuries ago. And it’s a bit hard to stay undercover when wearing one. Also, they make you trip and fall on your face, as I think I’ve mentioned.”
“Sounds like the voice of experience talking.”
“The Wizards wear them for ceremonies only.”
Rance imagined Solaris wearing a long, hooded cloak. It would make him look more imposing than he was. She wouldn’t mind seeing him in one, just once.
“They really aren’t that flattering,” he said, perhaps guessing her thoughts.
Rance smirked and changed the subject. “How about your powers? What did you do to the Streaker when we left Prometheus?”
“That was especially difficult.”
“You messed with gravity to get us away from those ships.”
Solaris looked impressed. “Excellent!”
“So you can control gravity?”
“Not exactly. I can manipulate it to some degree.”
“And how did that keep us from being blown to bits by those rebel ships?”
“I changed our pattern through space by manipulating the space-time around us.”
“You’re talking about a wormhole?” Rance was stunned. “You can create them?”
“It’s more like I can bend space. But yes, it’s something like a wormhole. And only for very short distances.”
Rance gaped at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. Of course, modern science had studied wormholes at length, and before developing hyperspace, used them to colonize new parts of the galaxy. And Solaris could create one on his own?
Solaris reached across the table and put his hand under her chin, closing her mouth. “I’ve never known you to be speechless.”
Again, his fingers felt smoother than they should have. She thought about when he’d taken her hand on Prometheus. She grabbed his hand before he could retract it, and turned it over, palm up.
It looked normal, had lines, some worn callouses. When she felt it, though, his skin was as smooth as a baby’s, with some odd wrinkles. She ran her fingers over his palm, marveling at the difference between the way it looked and the way it felt.
“Are you going to hold my hand all night, Rance, or can I have it back sometime soon?”
But Rance didn’t let go. Instead, she pointed to his palm. “Do you disguise your hands along with your face?”
“Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Why are they so smooth?” Her eyes widened. “You’re not a girl, are you?”
Solaris burst out laughing and slapped his other hand on the table. Tears of mirth sprang to his eyes. “No,” he said between chortles. “All male. You don’t want to see my real hands.”
“Why not?”
Solaris sobered a bit. “Some ugly scarring. I prefer to keep it hidden.”
“What happened?”
He seemed to debate something. Caught up in the moment, Rance realized she may have overstepped her boundaries. The question had been extremely personal. “I’m sorry, I—”
Solaris shook his head. “It’s okay. It happened a long time ago. When the Wizards found me, I had severe burns from the fire that took the lives of my family.”
“Oh.” Rance felt like a heel. She shouldn’t have asked. Realizing she was still holding his hand, she released it.
But Solaris didn’t withdraw as if he were angry. He smiled. “The scars are nothing to look at really. Except for some reason, when people see me, they feel the need to stare. Even my fellow Wizards, when we were kids. I found them looking at the scars on my face and hands without looking at me,
you know? That’s why I learned to disguise myself so well. Orion taught me.”
“I’m sorry,” Rance said again.
“It’s alright. It doesn’t stop me from being the most powerful man you know.” Solaris winked.
Rance squirmed in her seat. Solaris was only two years older than she, but his life had been drastically different from hers. What he had endured, what he had accomplished. The shape of his life seemed deeper, weightier, like it took up more space in the universe than hers ever could. He had made an impact on countless lives. Could Rance say the same?
Suddenly, she felt ashamed for complaining about an arranged marriage when the man sitting across from her had lost everything, gained it, and lost it again. Compared to his trials, hers seemed insignificant. Next to him, Rance felt… inadequate.
“Does it bother you to know?” Solaris asked, watching her.
“No,” she answered truthfully. “But it bothers me that you thought it might bother me.”
“It bothered me that I thought it might bother you, which is why I hesitated to bother you about it.”
Rance shook her head in confusion. “What?”
He grinned.
She grinned back, shaking off the feeling of being on uneven ground. “Okay. Since it doesn’t bother me, how bad are the burns?”
“Right side of my face, both hands, and the right half of my chest. Something burning fell on me, and I tried to push it off. At least that’s what they tell me. I don’t really remember it, except in dreams.”
Solaris ran a hand through his sandy-colored hair. Rance wanted to ask him to show her his real face. But she hesitated.
He glanced at her and seemed to know what she was thinking.
“Maybe another time,” he murmured. “It’s been a long time since anyone has seen the real me.”
“But I have seen the real you, Solaris,” she said, feeling a surge of friendship for him.
He raised an eyebrow.
“You’re a genuinely good person. You're kind and honorable, and you stick by your friends. That’s all I really need to know.”
“Ah.” Solaris cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I wish you hadn’t said that. It makes me feel like an imposter.”
