by David Beers
Her lips were tight, and she couldn’t speak. All she could do was nod. She’d come too far to break down now. She’d wait until the man tried to take her, then all the rage and pain she’d felt over the past months could come out in one smooth arc when her hand rose toward the monster’s neck.
“Okay, dear. I’ll see you in the morning,” her father said with a measured look.
Another nod.
A few more goodbyes, then the newlyweds were left on their own.
Neither said anything as they made their way to their new suite. Luna kept her eyes on the floor. She knew much about her true husband’s legendary physiology. His heartbeat never rose above a certain level, his blood pressure the same. It didn’t matter what situation he was put in.
As the elevator rose to their room, Luna wished she had the same ability. Her heart felt like it might break through her chest wall. She could hear it in her ears and feel it in her temples. Luna saw the man’s massive legs next to her petite ones and understood there was nothing she could do to him. Nothing.
The elevator’s doors slid aside, and the monster let her off first. It opened directly into their suite, and while the views and architecture might be wonderful to look at, Luna saw none of it.
Luna stepped out and stopped, her head turning to the bedroom on her left.
What do I do, Allie? Do I kill him here, or do I wait until he’s in bed? What’s going to give me the best result?
Wait, Allie told her, his voice sure and solid. Wait until he’s excited, love, then do it.
Luna understood what her version of Alistair was saying, but she didn’t know if she could kill Hector. She couldn’t even pretend to like the monster.
Her new husband stepped around her and pulled a black orb from inside his jacket. He placed it on an end table, then pressed a button on top.
He didn’t look at her as he spoke. His back was to her, his head angled so he watched the orb his hand still rested on. “This will keep our conversations and movements private, though it can’t be kept on all the time, or those watching will grow suspicious. I imagine you plan on using the knife to kill me if I try touching you. I have no plans to do that, so you can discard the blade. If you wish to try to kill me no matter what, I’ll be forced to eliminate you, Luna Kane.”
She was stunned. Her left hand went to her right wrist, feeling for the hidden weapon.
The giant continued, “If we’re to keep this ruse up, certain things must be…pretended. Tonight, I’ll have to lie on top of you, and certain…motions and sounds will have to be made. There’s no way around that, I’m afraid, because as I’m sure you’re aware, eyes are watching. I give you my word that I mean you no harm and seek to have no intimate knowledge of you. We have to act these things out, at least for a time, but we can do it in ways that leave us both clothed.”
He paused, placing his hands behind his back.
“If you refuse to go along with these fictions, then keep the blade and attempt to kill me. One way or another, this marriage goes forward or ends tonight. I’m going to leave that choice up to you.”
Luna remained motionless for a few seconds. She didn’t know how to respond, although she appreciated what he was saying. The monster understood that part of her—she’d rather die than sleep with him, and he was okay with it. Yet, he’d keep the charade going.
It all came down to one thing. Luna couldn’t kill this man, and the only way to move ahead was by doing as he said: continue the charade.
She let the blade slide out of her sleeve. She stepped next to the monster, careful not to touch him, and laid the knife on the table next to the orb.
Luna gave him a wide berth and went to the bedroom. She left the door open, knowing that closing it would be pointless.
Tears dropped down her face, though. She couldn’t hold them back. She didn’t know how that orb out there worked, but she hoped the monster was smart enough to keep it on as she collapsed to the floor and sobbed.
Luna’s own shaking hands were the only solace she found.
Please, Alistair. Please. Come home. Come to me.
Chapter Two
Thoreaux hadn’t looked to see when the holovid was originally recorded. It was sometime in the past, though obviously not too distant.
He was no longer looking at the holovid. He knew what was on it. The entire council did; it’d only taken a few minutes for everyone to understand this was a cruel, cruel message.
Luna Kane, in all her beauty, stood in front of the biggest man Thoreaux had ever seen. Perhaps he was as big of some of the gigantes, though at that size, what did it even matter?
Thoreaux’s attention had turned to Prometheus, his leader.
For it was his wife on the holovid, wearing a virgin’s white and about to marry another man.
Thoreaux had seen the person officiating at the ceremony dressed in royal purple just behind the new bride and groom. The Imperial Ascendant.
Prometheus’ eyes were narrowed, and for the first time Thoreaux could remember, a vein was throbbing on his temple. A table stood just behind Pro, and he stepped to it. His hands found the edge, and it creaked as he gripped its edge. His knuckles were white.
Only three others were in the room: Relm, Servia, and Faitrin.
Thoreaux saw that they were all staring at Prometheus too, none concerned any longer with what the holovid said.
“Leave me,” Prometheus commanded.
Relm opened his mouth to say something, and thank the gods, Thoreaux caught his attention. He gave a sharp shake of his head, and Relm’s mouth audibly snapped shut.
Everyone but Thoreaux left the room with their heads down.
“Leave me,” Pro repeated without looking at him. He stared at the holovid, the wedding still going.
“I’m going to,” Thoreaux responded. He didn’t step closer to his leader. He doubted Prometheus would harm him or any other of his council, but… Well, he’d never seen a vein pulsing on his leader’s forehead either. “I just want you to remember that this is all a game to people like that. He’s moving his pieces over the board, and that’s all it is—just a move. You know your wife, and you know the only other option the Ascendant would give her was death. Ask yourself if you’d rather have her remarried and alive or married to you and dead?”
“Go,” was his only response.
Thoreaux nodded and headed out of the small room. He turned into the hall as the door closed behind him. The other three were waiting for him a couple of meters away.
“What’s this mean?” Servia asked as he approached.
Thoreaux shrugged as he walked past the group. “How do I know? He kicked me out just like the rest of you. All I know for certain is that the Ascendant just made this personal in a way he might not understand.”
“Did you see the fuckin’ vein pop out on his forehead?” Relm asked from the rear. “I thought he might pull his Whip right there and cut the whole ship to pieces. We’d just be icicles floating out in space when he got finished.”
“We saw it, Relm,” Faitrin assured him.
“Look,” Thoreaux said as they turned a corner, “there’s a lot to be done, and Pro knows that. He’s gonna need some time to deal with what just happened, but it’s not our business. Our business is getting us back to the Milky Way. I for one don’t want him coming out of the room and asking us questions we can’t answer.”
“True enough,” Servia said from just behind him.
The crew split up, and Thoreaux continued walking but made a slight detour before his final stop on the bridge. He’d learned a lot from Pro since meeting him on Pluto. Thoreaux was closer to him than anyone besides perhaps Obs, and he understood that the torture inside the man was much more than he ever showed his subordinates. The only time they saw it was when he needed their advice. When he couldn’t figure a way out of the situation.
Thoreaux learned that he couldn’t show his own torment to those looking to him for answers either. He could only reveal those emo
tions upward, and right now wasn’t one of those times. Truthfully, he didn’t have a fucking clue what to think about the wedding and how it’d affected Pro. He couldn’t even imagine what the man was thinking, and if he tried to imagine a similar situation regarding Faitrin, revulsion and rage welled up inside him.
All he could do was hope Prometheus had learned his lesson about taking his focus away from their goal.
Thoreaux finally reached the garden area. Since leaving the gigantes’ homeworld, Prometheus had put Thoreaux in charge of making sure that those involved in their insurrection could survive long-term without the need for a planet. Pro himself wasn’t good at those types of tasks, only conceiving of them. Thoreaux understood that sustainability meant a food source, and that meant gardens. It would be a slow process to get them up and running across the fleet’s dreadnoughts, as well as being able to sustain such a large army as they now had. However, Prometheus was right: sustainability took precedence over almost anything else.
The AllMother spent a lot of time in the garden. She hardly ever attended council meetings. Her recovery wasn’t complete yet, and if regaining her abilities was required for her to be “complete,” Thoreaux thought her recovery wouldn’t ever reach that level.
Defending that building had changed the AllMother, and Thoreaux couldn’t help but wonder if it had been worth it. If they wouldn’t need her in the future, and they hadn’t burned her out far too soon.
Were the people she’d saved worth the sacrifice she’d made?
He’d never asked her that question, but as he stepped into the garden, he wondered about it once again. He wondered if losing her mental abilities would affect her ability to continue living. If they had somehow helped keep her alive, what would it mean now that they were gone?
Bright light shone down from above. Walls of fans lined the room, helping to ensure that the correct levels of oxygen versus carbon dioxide remained constant. Green plants sat in rows a bit lower than Thoreaux’s waist; the watering system ran up from the floor. He had considered using different methods, including letting the water rain from the ceiling, but the least wasteful method fed the roots and dirt surrounding them without any loss of the precious moisture.
The AllMother sat in a simple fold-out chair the gigantes had built back on their planet. She usually asked someone to carry it for her since the thing was made out of heavy wood. She often sat at one end of the garden and alternated between watching the plants and gardeners or reading.
Her DataTrack was on her lap now, though she wasn’t reading. Her eyes were staring at some ripening tomatoes on her left.
She looked up at the sound of Thoreaux’s footsteps. Before that last battle, the old woman would have known he was coming at nearly the same time he did.
“Thoreaux, what gives me the pleasure of seeing you today?”
“Just wanted to check on you,” he said as he reached her chair. “What are you reading?”
She looked down at the DataTrack. “Novels from before my time. Say what you will about all the great things the Commonwealth gave humanity, art surely wasn’t improved.”
“How’re you feeling, Mother?”
She shrugged, and her gaze fell on the tomatoes again. “I’m doing okay, but I’m tired a lot. Sitting in here helps. I don’t know if it’s the oxygen or the plants or the lights from above, but I don’t feel nearly as sleepy in here.” She was quiet for a second, then without looking at him, asked, “How’s our leader?”
She would likely have felt something from him; she was asking out of curiosity.
“Right now?” Thoreaux said. “Probably not too well. The Ascendant just pulled a pretty dirty trick.”
Still, the AllMother didn’t look at him. “He hasn’t asked for me, has he?”
“No, ma’am.”
She nodded. “Good. You let him know I’m here if he needs me. I don’t know how much help I can be now, though.”
Thoreaux placed his hand on her shoulder. The old woman looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you for coming by, Thoreaux. You’re doing an excellent job with this garden. I can hardly believe there are more like it across so many ships.”
“I’m trying.” He glanced at the different vegetables. He understood why she liked this place. He liked it too, though he couldn’t spend much time here. “I’ve got to head to the bridge. I just wanted to stop by and say hey. We should do dinner this week. I know Faitrin would like it.”
She patted the hand on her shoulder. “Sure, Thoreaux. Sure. Just let me know when.”
He gave her shoulder a light squeeze and then turned toward the exit. He knew there would be things on the bridge he had to address, so as he left, he let his worries about the AllMother fade.
The AllMother watched Thoreaux go. The door to the garden opened, then closed, and she was alone once again.
For many years, the AllMother had thought she was alone atop the mountain she’d created, unable to truly be emotionally or intellectually intimate with anyone. Everyone had wanted her attention then, but she’d only been able to share part of herself with a few of her people.
Now, very few people wanted her attention, and she wasn’t sure what she could share with any of them. She wasn’t sure what she could offer.
The AllMother understood what she’d done to herself, and she thought everyone else did too.
Caesar and Relm were alive because of it, even if a part of her had died.
The AllMother sighed and looked down at the DataTrack. She’d recently found a writer named Stephen King, who’d lived about a hundred years before her birth. He’d written some ghastly stuff, but the AllMother found it hard to pull away and read someone else. Just about the only other thing she liked doing nowadays was watching the plants grow.
For some reason, she liked to see life begin.
Maybe because hers was at an end.
Is it, old woman? something in her asked. It sounded an awful lot like her brother when they were younger. When their names had been different.
She didn’t know where her brother was, or what he was doing. She wondered if he knew she’d lost her abilities and whether that changed his plans. Was it still their fate to be together again, or had she lost what he wanted?
As she looked at the red tomatoes, a chill ran down her back.
She knew the truth—the answer to that question.
Nothing would ever stop him. If she died, he’d come for her bones. The AllSeer would carry them around in a bag, a macabre assurance that he would never lose her again.
The AllMother was quiet much of the time now, and she didn’t offer anyone her thoughts or training. When she wasn’t reading or watching plants grow, she thought about her brother. He was still out there, and she understood that Alistair’s mind was more focused on the Commonwealth, which was where it should be.
The rest of her children might think her time as an active force in the movement was nearly done, and for the most part, perhaps that was true. Even so, it was her job to remember her brother since he was surely remembering them.
There wasn’t anything she could do at the moment, but it was enough to know that Alexander de Finita, first of his name, was still out there—and his hunt continued.
Alistair watched his wife kiss another man and thought he might vomit. His stomach churned, and he felt acid rise into his throat. it might have been the first time his body had physically reacted to outside stimuli.
The room was now empty, and the holovid was coming to an end. Alistair looked on, unable to pull his eyes away. It wasn’t his wife that he focused on, but the man behind the newly wedded couple.
The Imperial Ascendant, Alexander de Finita, second of his name.
Alistair didn’t need anyone to tell him this was a ploy. He understood the game the Ascendant was playing. He wanted the rage Alistair now felt to blind him. The Ascendant wanted Alistair to make a mistake, leaving himself open to be killed.
It was more than that, though.
He was
letting Alistair know how much he controlled. No matter what Alistair did, de Finita sat back on Earth with Alistair’s wife under his thumb.
Obs lay across the room, the only being still in the room with him. His head was between his paws, and his eyes focused on Alistair. He could see the frozen holovid where it hung, but he’d watched enough of it.
Alistair’s jaw muscles flexed as he gritted his teeth.
He couldn’t do anything from here. Staring at the man would no more hurt him than praying to the gods for his demise. Alistair couldn’t think about what would happen to Luna after this ceremony. He couldn’t consider what it would be like when he finally saw her. He had to trust that his wife was making the only decisions she could to keep herself alive.
She wasn’t betraying him.
Never, Allie, her voice whispered inside his head. I’m yours, always and forever, in this life and the next.
Alistair had to get back to her. Everything else…it was all superfluous. He had to get back to Luna, and he had to end this. The things he’d been through? They were nothing, compared to the horrors she was being forced to endure.
His eyes flashed to Obs, and for the first time, he realized there were tears in them. The room was blurry. His drathe was blurry.
“I’m failing her,” he whispered to the animal.
Obs stood up and padded to the other side of the room.
Alistair released the table and sat down. The drathe curled up between his legs.
“I’m failing her,” he repeated, and buried his head in the drathe’s fur. His hands dug deep into the animal’s pelt, but Obs didn’t pull away. He let his master tug on him and cry. “I’m failing her.”
Long minutes passed as Alistair held his companion and thought about his wife. The holovid remained active, frozen on the Ascendant’s eyes and the smirk on his face.
Alistair knew he couldn’t stay on the deck crying like this forever, but it was Obs who straightened him up. He let his master hold him for a while but finally forced himself up on all fours and pushed Alistair over.