Starlight Complete

by Astrid Cooper

  “There’s that shadow I see in your heart and soul. What causes it? Tell me.”

  “I need more time.”

  “More time!” His sigh was ominous, deep, intense. “How much time? A lifetime? Ten lifetimes? I…” The exasperation was stifled. He looked at her steadily. “Is it perhaps that you don’t want the child? Is this the cause? Is it?” The fingers stroking her shoulder trembled slightly, ever so slightly, but enough for Sam to realize how afraid he was.

  “John—”

  “How long have you known you were with babe?”

  “I suspected almost from the first moment. I felt it flutter inside me, like a butterfly.”

  John smiled tightly. “You always had an awareness beyond human, even before our first face to face meeting in the hotel, I knew you were special. So special. And our child will be similarly gifted. If you…”

  “If I—what?” She put her hands over his.

  “If you wish to keep it.”

  Sam opened her mouth in mute shock.

  “I gave you the child without asking your leave. I know at this time, it’s a burden for you. I understand.”

  “True, I never expected this, at least so soon. But to not want it? Any child of mine will know how much they’re loved, every day of their lives.” She shook her head against her own bitter childhood memories. “I’ll love the child, Kuno. But will it love me?”

  “What?” he demanded, his hazel eyes harsh, piercing.

  “I…” Oh stars! She had almost revealed her lurking horror. “I’m a human.”

  “Human and felinus tangle well, kitten.” He smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. “My mother was human.”

  “But now you’re almost pure felinus after that healing Taren initiated.”

  “And you’re no mere human. You have mutatis. The crystal power of Chizan is in your veins.” His gaze held hers in the mirror. “The daughter you carry, Sammi, is the heir to Ronsevaal.”

  “Daughter?” she demanded.

  “Mm. Enroute to Chizan, Tar and Kari and Len initiated your healing. I was the anchor. Much like when they changed me to felinus. You fought us, hard, even in your sleep. I sensed my daughter, just a moment, before you blocked me.”

  Sam’s heart missed a beat and her temples pulsed. “There’s nothing wrong with her…I mean…” Oh stars—what if the starlord knew? Had he known? Might he have done something…? She snapped her mind closed, hoping against hope that John did not catch her thoughts.

  John’s hard, cold gaze regarded her in the mirror. “What did you think, kitten? I didn’t catch it.”

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  An ominous silence stretched between them. A distance—a hurtful distance.

  “You must understand that a girl born into the Ronsevaal family hasn’t occurred in generations. She’s to be cherished, for this and for her own sake. Yet, in the years ahead there’ll be some difficulties.”

  “How so?”

  “She’s felinus, her blood will burn. Not as much as a felinus male, that’s true, but she’ll seek passion and release. It’ll be misunderstood.”

  “It’s okay for a cat-boy to feegle out his brains, what little brains he has, but not acceptable for a girl? Sounds like human double standards to me.”

  “Most felinus understand.”

  “Do you think I won’t?”

  “Others…”

  “Damn them all to feegling hell, then! If our daughter wants to have a hundred cats before she’s twenty, then I won’t question her.” If her daughter’s future lovers were anything like Kuno or…Harimal—lucky cat- girl!

  John kissed her, his hands sliding over her shoulders. “Sam, have I told you how much I love you?”

  “Not in the last few minutes.”

  “Very remiss of me. I love you!” Retrieving something from his pocket, he brushed aside her hair and slid a pearl necklace around her, fastening the clasp at her throat. “I re-threaded the original, the one I gave you that first night.” Their gazes locked, memories sharing: of the gift and of the time when the necklace was torn from her, when she had been stolen and John shot. “I’ve added more to the strand, along with the Chizan diamond clasp. Consider it another mutatis gift.”

  Smiling, she ran a finger over the gems, feeling the texture, the warmth. “I think you’ve gifted me enough. Our daughter.” She turned in his arms and pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart and as his arms fastened around her, the beat increased, until it was a furious tattoo. She lifted her head to his. He rubbed his nose against hers and purred. Then their lips met and tongues merged.

  He raised her against him, cupping her ass, grinding against her. He lifted his head a fraction. “Ah, Sam, I can never get enough of you. Never.”

  Sam smiled and ran a finger over his lips. He nibbled her playfully, his eyes dark, silently questioning.

  “I hurt you, Kuno. Let me soothe you.”

  “You know you don’t have to kitten, not unless you’re ready. I know—”

  “You know nothing.” Putting aside her fear, she tugged off his kaftan and directed John to the bed. She lay beside him. “I want you on top.”

  “Kitten, I—”

  “I know it’s against felinus tastes, but I want this. I’d feel safer beneath you. Please.”

  He rolled over her, his thighs to hers. She opened her legs, wrapping them around him as he entered her. He held still above her, gazing down upon her. His smile teased, his eyes promised. His mind touched hers, igniting.

  “What now, kitten-mine?”

  “Love me, as you did that first time, when you pretended to be my Christmas present.”

  “I don’t have the tickler.”

  “Kitty-cat’s got his own inbuilt ones, now, so you’re ready to play your game of seduction.”

  “For a felinus seduction is no game.” He eased deeper into her, his ridges splaying.

  “Oh, great stars…ooooh, do that again.”

  He obliged.

  As the two moons rose to their zenith, Sam and John joined the last of the mourners in the private royal garden. It was surrounded by a thick hedge of purple Chizan roses. The ginger scent hung heavily in the hot humidity

  Sam saw a three meter high crystal obelisk rising from the center of the manicured lawn, and etched upon its surface, shimmering with reflected moon and starlight, she could read many felinus names. This was the Ronsevaal family memorial. Felinus did not bury their dead, Sam discovered. Instead, John explained that felinus were cremated beneath the stars in pyres made from farseth and sandalwood—the sacred essences of Chizan. Felinus believed that Starlight illuminated the Path to the Blessed Realm.

  But for Harimal, there would be no funeral pyre. His body had been fragmented into billions of atoms in the matter transporter. Perhaps he was now part of a star, a man of starlight, burning bright in the heavens—the thought gave Sam some comfort.

  Over fifty family, friends and guests stood within the garden, all garbed in their best. The Terran Ambassador and her assistant stood alone, at the back of the crowd, their blue uniforms stark and incongruous to the lavishness of felinus attire.

  Sam glanced about, frowning. “Where’s Herrall and is Hari’s mother here, or are they coming together?”

  John’s face paled. “My father will arrive shortly. As for the Deuran-sher, she couldn’t attend.”

  “The Queen couldn’t come, or wouldn’t?”

  He smiled bitterly. “She loathes humans more than Herrall, so—”

  “So when she heard I was going to be here, she refused to attend? You could have asked me to stay out of sight.”

  “It’s not you, but me.”

  “But Hari is…was her son. Your brother.”

  “Hari stood with me, always. He made his choice and in so doing, rejected the Queen, his mother. She never forgave him, or Herrall for siring me.”

  “I hate her.”

  Jo
hn shrugged. “She deserves pity because her hatred consumes her.”

  “Yes,” Sam said. She knew about hatred and how it ate at one’s soul. She put her hand on John’s wrist, lightly stroking.

  Taren and his mate positioned themselves behind John and Samantha, as clan-brother and sister. They were dressed in formal assassin garb: black leather vests and breeches, and boots, bristling with knives. Their tightly braided blue-black hair decorated with feathers and beads hid tiny needles, that in times of war would be poison-tipped. Beneath the light of moon and star, their fur wings resembled burnished obsidian. Many of the assembly regarded the two Avenor with alarm and Sam knew that suited Taren.

  Zeren and Aarn, Sam’s felinus shadows stood at her right side, taking their protective role seriously, insisting that they remain as cats, claws and fangs at the ready. John acknowledged them with his right hand over his breast, his head inclined.

  “You’re doing it again, cat-boy,” Sam whispered to John, nudging him.

  “What kitten?”

  “Turning san-Duran. I hate it when you go formal.”

  “Maybe I should turn feral, instead?”

  “Later.”

  As he studied her, she saw how his eyes captured the starlight, the tawny depths shimmering. So beautiful this man, her cat. Sam forgot to breathe.

  Two musicians, one a harpist, the other a violinist, sat under a white canvas awning, nervously watching her.

  Sam grimaced. She had that affect on people these days—apprehension, if not blatant avoidance.

  They are ashamed, kitten, John mind-sent.

  Ashamed?

  That you have suffered on their behalf. They don’t know how to say thank you. No one on Chizan does, for what you sacrificed. Or what you did for the galaxy.

  Yeah, right! Me, the galactic hero. Not.

  Sam, you are irrepressible.

  Samantha’s stomach tightened and for a moment she thought she might be sick. Those words—Harimal’s words.

  I’m scared, like I always am.

  John’s hand tightened around hers. Never be scared. Not with me beside you, or Taren nearby. Or those two cat-boys. They’d die for you, Sammi.

  Too many have died, Kuno.

  Mm.

  Herrall stepped through the gap in the hedge, his purple and silver robe rippling in the breeze. His long black hair, white-tinged at the temples, swirled around him. He waited. The unconscious arrogance of his stance reminded her of Hari. Sam swallowed and had to look away.

  The King spoke of Harimal, of the san-Duran, of the son, of Hari’s love of music and song, highlighting a life that had been cut short.

  Sam held John’s arm throughout as the King spoke. There were gasps and laughs and knowing smiles passed between the mourners.

  When the King finished, he nodded to John.

  Smiling at Sam, giving her wrist a reassuring stroke, John strode to the awning and immediately the musicians commenced to play.

  Sam gasped, as John began to sing. It was Recondita armonia from Tosca. The one Harimal had sung for her the first night at the Rendezvous Bar and then on other nights in their prison. She knew John sang it for her and for Hari. Tears sparkled his eyes, but he did not falter.

  Before the last word faded, he had begun another song, again from Tosca. E lucevan le stele…the stars were shining. But this time the words were felinus, not the original old earth Italian. Sam swallowed her tears. Behind her, someone was weeping.

  She heard the words catch in John’s throat. Without thinking she strode forward, facing him, taking his hands in hers. She sang, her voice steady: My dream of love has vanished, my despair is my death.

  John joined her, his rich baritone opposing hers, the huskiness of her voice complementing.

  “My dream of love has vanished forever…but…” Sam locked gazes with John, her tears fragmenting his image. “But you are not gone. You live. Vincero. Harimal. Vincero.”

  The final harp note lingered on the air, then slowly dissipated, along with the echo of Sam’s voice.

  Absolute silence around her, like an enveloping blanket, returned Sam to the present moment. Glancing around, she saw all gazes upon her. She flushed. What the hell had she just done?

  Herrall strode forward and took her hands in his.

  “My daughter brings me much honor.” He looked around, then smiled back at her. “The one who shared his final days will speak now. Please, daughter-of-mine, Samantha-Sharille.” He bowed her towards the obelisk.

  Squaring her shoulders, and with her heart thudding in her ears, Sam stepped forward, again flushing in dismay that she was the focus of so many.

  “H…Harimal and I shared confidences, in the dark, in the pain.” She scratched at her wounded arm and realizing what she had done, put it behind her back, her hand fisted, the nails digging into her palm. “If it were not for Harimal, I would not have survived. If it were not for Harimal, san-Duran, Ronsevaal, brother-mine, my life and other lives in his hands would have extinguished.” John would understand that veiled reference. She cleared her throat. “Starlight, starbright, I wonder where the cat is tonight?” She paused, looking around, smiling. Harimal would appreciate the fact that she was making a joke.

  What is life, without a song or a smile, Sammi? he had asked her one night in the depths of their despair.

  “Starlight, starbright, I wonder where the cat is tonight?” She imitated Hari’s mischievous grin, the tilt of his head, the lift of his chin. “Ah, he would be tucked up in bed with his pussy, that’s where.”

  Gasps of astonishment from the humans, followed by stunned silence. Someone chuckled—Herrall. Then another. Soon, the mourners were laughing. Ah, Hari would appreciate it.

  “Harimal invented small ditties to sing to me, to make me laugh. I remember Harimal for his songs. I remember Harimal for his smile, his humor. I remember Harimal for his ability to make someone else laugh or smile, when he, himself, could not.” She looked at John. “Harimal, May Starlight Guide Your Path to the Blessed Realm.”

  Clearing her throat, she began to sing, this time the first stanza of Hari’s own opera, canzone felinallinus d’amore di stele—the love song of the stars. At first, her voice was soft, hesitant, then forgetting the crowd, forgetting all, she sang to Harimal, remembering that when she sang for him in prison, he would smile, his sapphire eyes sparking with pleasure. The image of him rose in Sam’s mind and tears threatened. Her throat tightened. She would not weep for Hari at his funeral—he would not like that.

  She reached into her robe and drew her assassin’s knife. She saw John tense, his sudden, cold horror touching her.

  Before he could react, and thwart her suicide, Sam slashed the knife against her palm and striding up to the obelisk, put her palm against Hari’s name. Removing her hand, his name was streaked with blood. She signed to Harimal, using the secret assassin hand signals: Friend. Farewell. Journey safe. Find the light. Love. Trust. Honor. Farewell. Comrade of blood.

  She bowed and strode away. Taren, the immobile, stoic assassin was openly weeping. Sam left the garden without a backward glance.

  Sam glanced out of the shuttle window. Below her stretched a long white beach, bordered by a sprawling spaceport and a vast turquoise sea. One blue tower loomed ahead. It must have been almost five hundred meters tall, a silver star at its top.

  “This is Cable Beach Spaceport?” she asked. “It’s not as big as the one on Luna.”

  In the seat beside her, John leaned across her and pointed out the window. “That tower marks the spot where first contact was made with the Voyagers.”

  Sam’s nodded. She had read about that in the history books. Two hundred years ago the first interstellar spacecraft touched down on Cable Beach…at least the first recorded space ship. She had her suspicions that the earth had received visitations before. “But why Cable Beach?”

  John shrugged. “Historians have debated that point for years. People were enjoying a spectacular Christmas Night sunset in 2020 wh
en the ship dropped out of the sky. That musta’ been some sight!” He glanced at his watch. The look on his face sent shivers up her spine.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We’ve been away from Terra so long, I’d forgotten the date.” He held out his watch, so she could read the digital display. “It’s April twenty-fifth, Sammi, less than eight months from now it’ll be the bicentenary of the Voyagers’ arrival on earth.”

  She sighed. The universe moved in mysterious ways. “Well, we’re star voyagers returning home. It’s karma.”

  John smiled enigmatically. “I’m glad we’re home. I can show you some sights here that are unique. The staircase to the moon, for one.”

  “The what?”

  “I won’t give you the scientific explanation, but it’s an illusion worthy of any holo-room. I’ll take you there.”

  “Promise?”

  “Of course, kitten-mine. I want to show you my home. Everything.”

  “Of all the places in the galaxy, why did you choose to live in Broome?”

  “Ask me that again after you’ve seen it. If you still need to ask.” He took her hand and kissed each finger, gently nibbling and sucking.

  “Do they enjoy having a felinus prince resident in—?”

  “Here, I’m Johnathan Lucas, pearl farmer. Not felinus, or sensualator, and definitely not san-Duran.”

  “Just an alien living here, among aliens coming and going at the spaceport?” She raised a disbelieving brow.

  “Something like that.”

  “I’m afraid that Captain Karev will have something to say about that. I think he plans to have a contingent of guards permanently posted around your home.”

  “Our home, Sammi and I can tell you this right now—no bloody way am I living under guard. Besides, they’d get their feet wet.” He grinned. “Patience, kitten, you’ll understand soon enough.”

  The shuttle touched down with the slightest bump and the hatch slid open.

  Flinging off the seat belt, Sam stood up and hurried to the exit. She paused and caught the tang of sea, and other scents—wattle and eucalyptus. Australia. Home. The heat and humidity was like Chizan, the sky overhead was not mauve, but the purest azure as far as the eye could see. In contrast the beach was glittering white and beyond the dunes and palm trees, the soil was ocher. She breathed in. So good to be home!