The Reign_Destiny_The Life Of Travis Rand

by Lance Berry

  The war between Earth and the Calvorian Alliance continued as it had for just over fifty years; UEF would win several victories, then the enemy. And back-and-forth it went as soldiers fought and died light-years from home, and a relentless enemy that seemed determined to never give up its hope of conquering our home world continued to attempt to press forward with its war machine.

  Jack Richards continued his recovery, and eventually was allowed limited visitations with family. Travis stopped by the MacLean-Barque Institute in the Virginian suburb of Falls Church a couple of times, as did Aunt Lisa. Although the visits were brief, they went well. Travis couldn’t believe how glad he was to have his father alive, after all the times they’d been at each others’ throats. Travis told Aunt Lisa that he’d be coming to stay in Virginia soon, but he wanted to head back home first to see the old house and Gilda. It was a beautiful summer day when the AirKab dropped him off at the old place on Aqueduct Road. He paid the driver, unlocked the front door and set his bags just in the living room. He went right back out and headed over to Gilda’s, a smile beaming across his face.

  On the shuttle ride back to Garrison, Travis had time to reflect on everything that had happened the past year, and came to realize that it truly was Gilda whom he loved. Danielle and he would probably always be better friends than lovers, and his connection with Marion simply consisted of a closeness brought together by the similitude of their lifestyle. In spite of his own lapses in judgment, Gilda had always been faithful to him, and he knew that she was eager for them to spend their lives together. She had been his first lover, and he hers. Perhaps that was simply the way things were meant to be.

  Travis reached the Ramirez house and knocked on the front door. He sucked his teeth, realizing that like a dope, he hadn’t even thought to bring her flowers or any kind of present. Well, with the study points he had racked up in school, he had enough Unicreds on his card to take her out to a nice dinner, and perhaps some shopping as well. Enemies came and went, Heavy Cruisers were built and decommissioned, but until the day the sun itself finally burned out, women would always love shopping.

  The door opened and Gilda’s father, Eduardo Ramirez, stepped out. His posture seemed worse than it had ever been, and his eyes appeared slightly sunken into his skull. He looked at Travis a moment, before recognition washed over him.

  “Mister Ramirez, hi! Is Gilda–“

  Travis saw it. He saw the punch coming, indicated in the shoulders before Mister Ramirez had even fully moved. But before he could even begin to question as to why the old man would be taking a swing at him, and even as he realized that he did possess the reflexes to either deflect or avoid the punch altogether, it came to Travis that this was his elder–and if nothing else, his own father had always taught him to respect his elders. He let the blow connect, but rather than lash out and knock the old man on his can, he rolled with the punch and stumbled back a bit. He found support on one of the porch beams, and stared at Ramirez in disbelief as the old man stepped out onto the porch and pointed an accusing finger at him.

  “You son of a bitch,” the old man screamed. “It’s all your fault! You’re the reason my daughter is dead!”

  Travis regained his footing, but his sense of reality spiraled out of control. He heard the sentence, saw Ramirez’ lips move, but had to replay the words over and over in his mind in order to grasp what he had said. The second blow hurtled toward him, and Travis unthinkingly snapped into action. He raised his arm, letting the blow brush past his forearm, and blocked another strike from the old man. He swung again, and Travis wrapped both hands around Ramirez’ arm in a helix fashion–grasping the elder man’s thumb and forefinger securely as he bent his wrist hard–and pushed him backward. He braced his elbow against Ramirez’ shoulder– locking his arm so as to make him really feel it, and give him pause for attempting to make another move.

  “What do you mean? What happened to Gilda?” Travis said desperately, holding him in place. Ramirez’ lips curled sharply downward, and his eyes appeared ever more hollow in his face. “She loved you, you bastard! That’s what happened! She wrote to you and wrote to you, and you never answered! Finally, she gave up and started seeing someone else…but he had outmoded ideas of what a woman’s duty was to her man, and when she disagreed, he beat her to death.”

  Travis let him go. He took a step back away from the old man, and found that he felt sick to his stomach. No, not sick–he mistook the feeling of raw, primal rage swelling within his gut, eager to unleash itself. “Where is he? I’ll kill him.” And Travis had never meant anything he had ever said in his life more than those words. He felt it in his heart, this went beyond the training he was receiving to become an effective killing tool. He knew, beyond all doubt, that he was perfectly capable of killing the person who had taken the life of that beautiful little girl who first smiled at him while she was bouncing her ball, so many years ago.

  To Travis’ surprise, Ramirez let out a disdainful laugh. “Oh, so now you’re going to be the avenging hero, are you? The loving man who comes home to find his woman murdered, and plans to do in the scoundrel responsible?” He laughed again as he rubbed his sore shoulder. “Well, you’re too late again, Mister Hero! He was executed last Tuesday. Not that it does my daughter any good, but I sleep a tiny little better at night. Just a bit.”

  Travis wasn’t aware his fists had curled up until his hands fell to his side in defeat. What had he been doing with his life, that he couldn’t have spared time for the only woman who truly loved him? Why had he been so bad to her, so uncaring? Why did she have to pay for his inattentiveness? “Mister Ramirez, I–“

  Ramirez spit in his face. “Punta! My wife is in therapy now, just so you’ll know. Everyone thought that with my spinal problems, that I was the weak one…but she doted on our Gilda! The sun rose and set on her for my Carmen, and now she’s only a shell of herself, worse off than I could ever be. I didn’t like you when I first met you, Travis. I thought that like all boys, you see a beautiful, unsoiled girl, and you only go after one thing. But now I see that you were worse. Because you took what you wanted and threw her out when you were done, discarded her like trash. Not another thought, and you spoiled her good sense for all men. Her eyes and heart were so full of you, she couldn’t see the badness that was going to happen to her.” He shook his head, his anger spent, with nothing hurtful left to say. “Don’t come here again.”

  He went inside, the door closing soundly behind him. Travis finally wiped the spit from his face, and headed back home on uncertain legs.

  Chapter 19

  Travis rented a hotel room on the outskirts of town. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep at home, in the bed he had shared with Gilda. Yet he found no rest in his temporary room either. He tried watching movies on the Overnet, reading, even wandering the halls. But in the end, only one thing came to mind.

  Gilda Ramirez

  2159 – 2176

  Beloved Child

  Travis stood in front of her grave, which was in a small cemetery at the end of town. It was two in the morning, and a light mist covered the ground, which was slightly frosted from the unusual chill at this time of year. Travis wore civilian clothes rather than his silver yearling uniform, and a long tan coat kept him warm. Inside, however, he was numb. In all his life, he had never imagined that he would be standing at Gilda’s grave. Of all the people he knew, he somehow foolishly believed that she would go on forever.

  “I’m so sorry,” he told the grey marble headstone. “I failed you. You loved me, and I failed you. I don’t know what was wrong with my thinking, why I didn’t respond…no. No, I do know what happened. I was selfish, hedonistic. I thought I could have any woman I wanted, and all the time I never saw the best thing that was right in front of me. You loved me for who I was, and I should’ve treated you better.”

  Tears filled his eyes, and he found his legs were on the verge of buckling. He had to lean on the headstone for support, but it was of no avail; he slid to his kne
es, his pants becoming moist at the touch of the damp earth. “Gilda, you know I don’t believe in God. I haven’t since my mom died. But I want so much for there to be a heaven, so that you can still exist somewhere! So that my mom can meet you, and see how good a person you were. I want there to be a hell, so that son of a bitch who did this can fry in it forever–!”

  He sobbed, his body shaking with the pain, sorrow and fury he felt. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, after a moment. “I know you weren’t one for vengeance. You probably even forgave him while he was…I’m sorry. I just wish I had done better by you. I wish I was able to show you the same devotion you gave to me. This is all my fault, but I swear on my life, it won’t happen again.”

  He pushed himself to his feet and wiped his sleeve across his eyes. He could barely make out her name through the tears, so he wiped his eyes again, until he could see it clearly. “I won’t ever fail anyone like I failed you. I promise you, baby. Never again.”

  He reached into his pocket, pulling out the one piece of his uniform that he did bring with him: his name tag, which said simply “Rand”. The cemetery was small and had only one main entrance, so there was really only one direction from which the grave could be approached. He placed the tag on the right side of the headstone, and covered it with grass. He knew that if Mister Ramirez saw it, he would toss it away in anger. But if the grass covered the tag properly, there was a favorable chance it would rest here beside Gilda’s grave forever…and in the end, Travis thought she would have liked that.

  He bent down and kissed the cold stone. “I love you,” he said, and headed back to the hotel. Once he arrived, he fell into bed, but was unable to fall asleep until the morning.

  Chapter 20

  (MOO)

  Travis threw a punch at Sensei Ling, who grabbed his arm and arced it backward, borrowing a move from Aikido to make him fall back onto the mat. Travis grunted angrily and was on his feet almost instantly, ready to take another swing.

  “Enough!” Ling said loudly, making Travis snap out of it. The other students in class, who had been sparring in pairs on mats of their own, all stopped and gave their attention to Ling. He eyed Travis evenly, then turned to the class. “We are done for the day.”

  As one, they bowed to Ling respectfully, and he returned their grace. “A moment of your time, Mister Rand,” Ling said as the others began to disperse. Travis huffed and walked over to him. “You have been fighting with a great deal of anger today,” Ling said in a completely non-judgmental tone. “You have been careless, unfocused. And if there is one thing I have never known you to possess since you started this class two years ago, it is a lack of focus.”

  Travis looked at the ground. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, is all.”

  Ling nodded slowly. What did I tell all of you, the first day of class? About what it takes to remain and succeed here?”

  Travis exhaled lightly. “Dedication. Courage. Strength of character. Honesty.”

  “More specifically, I said it would take honesty to the ideals of Jeet Kune Do, honesty to yourselves, and honesty in dealing with me. Until you are ready to be honest with me, you will not be allowed to participate in this class.”

  Travis looked at him aghast. “You’re kicking me out?”

  “It isn’t my choice, Travis–it’s yours. Over the last two semesters, you have proven yourself to be my best student. In fact, one of the best I have ever had in the entire time I’ve taught at this institute. But I will not allow you to be distracted in this class…you’ll become a danger to others, as well as yourself. I’m sorry.”

  “Wait, wait,” Travis said quickly, as Ling began to turn away from him. “It’s…I’m…it’s this whole big loss that we took today. It’s eating me up.”

  Ling nodded in understanding. It was the first day of third year for many of the students, Travis included. And to the dismay of the entire school, a broadcast came in on the hall viewscreens, detailing a devastating loss of fifty United Earth Force ships to enemy forces. To make matters worse, many of the escape pods weren’t destroyed, as was the standard custom of Calvorians in battle. Instead they were captured, taken aboard the enemy ships, which returned scot-free to their own territory. There had been numerous whispers of what Calvorians might do to prisoners, but no hard facts, as any human prisoners taken before had never been freed again.

  “It’s just that every time I hear of a loss, I wish I was out there, in the field. I want to do something!”

  Ling looked Travis over studiously a moment. He then went to one of the mats and sat down in a lotus position. He gestured to a mat next to it, and Travis sat where indicated, in similar fashion. Ling took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “As I said, you are the best student I have had in a long while. There is something I haven’t done in many years, because I have not found anyone worthy. When do you have free time today?”

  Travis considered it. “Fifteen-thirty.”

  Ling nodded. “As it happens, I have no class at that time. More often than people realize, it is the actions of a few specific individuals who push history along. Washington. Lincoln. Bruce Lee. Captain Grossman. You were born to be a soldier, Travis…and rarely have I met an individual, certainly not one as young as you, who takes so naturally to the intricacies of Jeet Kune Do. On your free period, meet me here if you wish. I will help you realize your full potential.”

  Travis returned to Brigand Division to change into a fresh uniform– something he had always preferred to do, rather than wear the same one he had on before he changed into his gi for Ling’s class. He was now in quarters C-15, which he shared with Francis, Chang and Ali Mohammed- Afari, a native of Iraq. As he headed up the stairs, an unusual sound caught his attention, one which he had never heard in his two years at school: a baby crying. With a wellspring of hope making his heart leap, he took the stairs three at a time, half-running, half-jumping.

  The sounds of the crying child died down to happy gurgles as Travis entered the room. Sitting on Francis’ lower bunk were Hugo and Christina, the latter holding the couple’s newborn baby daughter. Christina cradled the baby in the crook of her arm, gently feeding her from a bottle. Francis stood next to Hugo, and much like the father, had a beaming smile on his face.

  “Hey,” Travis said enthusiastically.

  “Travis!” Christina returned by way of salutation. She and Hugo stood, with Hugo reaching Travis first and offering a friendly hand. Travis accepted, and the two drew in close for a quick hug. Christina and Travis then shared a peck on the cheek. “I’m so surprised to see you guys! What’s going on?”

  Christina nodded to the baby, who was now on the verge of drifting to sleep. “She’s what’s going on. Travis, this is Malory. Malory, this is your Uncle Travis.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Travis said as he carefully rubbed his thumb across the baby’s tiny fingers. Even in her half-sleep though, she reached out and grabbed his thumb in a tight grip. The group shared a soft laugh, and Travis kissed little Malory on the cheek, even as he gently withdrew his finger. “She’s adorable, Christina. Absolutely adorable.”

  “Hey, give me some credit. I had a hand in this too, y’know,” Hugo playfully chided. “Lucky she has your eyes, or I might’ve doubted it,” Francis joked.

  “So, what are you guys doing here?” Travis asked. “I thought you had bought a house a ways from here.”

  Hugo shook his head. “I wish. I don’t have enough study credits yet for a house. Neither of us does. We’re renting an apartment, just about two miles north, over in El Cajon.”

  “It’s a nice place. You guys should come over sometime,” Christina added.

  “We will, we will,” Francis assured her. “So, what’ve you guys been up to? What’s it like, being parents?”

  “It’s great. I gotta tell you, if you get the chance to knock up your girlfriends, run with it.”

  “Shut up,” Christina laughed as she prodded Hugo with her shoulder.

  “Seriously, though,” Hugo
added, “It is great. But Christina and me had a long talk, and she’s gonna come back to school, late in the fall.”

  “Really?” Francis said, pleasantly surprised.

  Christina nodded. “We managed to get on the early list for the extended nanny services. It’ll take about four more months for our registered spot to free up, but when it does, Malory’s going to be in and I’ll be back.”

  “This calls for a celebration,” Travis said. “What kind of beer does Malory drink?”

  The friends laughed, and spent up to the last minute talking and reminiscing before Travis and Francis had to head off to class. Hugo had chosen to take some time off at the end of the previous semester to be with Christina–now his wife–in her final months of pregnancy, so the couple headed back to their apartment.

  The rest of the day went very well for Travis. He did well in his military history and science classes, enjoyed his private session with Sensei Ling very much, and had fun conversing with his cadre over dinner. He arrived back at his room just after dinner, and was amazed to see Marion Holmes sitting on his bed, waiting patiently.

  “Hello, handsome,” she said pleasantly.

  “Hey,” he answered, happily surprised. She stood, and they met halfway and shared a warm hug. “I see you’re back in our uniform,” he said as he gave her navy blue junior year uniform an appreciative onceover. She smiled warmly. “Yep. My last specified classes at the Citadel ended last semester, and I’m back to stay this time.”