Mica had seen Henley enter the club and was surprised when he sat at a table with a Planetary Sergeant. She rose and moved to join them, but suddenly hesitated, unsure that she would be welcomed. Yet she was drawn toward them and moved to a bulkhead support close to their table where she could hear what they were saying without being seen. Leaning against the support, she knew she had no excuse for such shameless eavesdropping, but she couldn’t stop herself. She needed some inside line, some clue to Henley’s emotional state, before she confronted him with her own feelings.
When Henley’s drink came, he raised it to Denoro. “Here’s to victory and a safer place than the last.”
“Hell,” she said with a tight smile cutting the weathered wrinkles of her face as she touched her glass to his, “there ain’t no such thing as a safe place, Chief – despite the crap those new aliens are shoveling on. It’s wherever you find your ass in a moment’s peace that counts – nothing else – ‘cause no place is safe.”
She took a sip of her drink and looked at him with bright gray eyes. “You still gonna keep writing about the war? Or you gonna go on to something else now – something neat and civilian?”
Her question touched a nerve Henley had been afraid to touch himself. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop writing about the war,” he said finally. “It’s too much a part of me – like it is a part of you.” He wanted to turn away from this subject and the raw feeling it caused in his gut, but the very vulnerability he felt forced him to touch it, to probe the rawness for understanding that might help it heal. Somehow he felt that she might – “Tell me, Denoro, how has the war affected you?”
She snorted. “That’s the stupidest question I ever heard you ask. You’ve been there. You know the answer same as I do.” She waited a moment, as though expecting him to respond, and then the brightness in her eyes flashed for a moment.
When Denoro continued, there was a quiet intensity in her voice. “This is my second war, same as you, and you know the worst thing about it? It’s that part of your humanity,” she said slowly, “a big part of it – your kindu, your soul, whatever the hell you want to call it – it’s never gonna be there again.
Behind the support Mica felt suddenly guilty and paralyzed at the same time – afraid to move and afraid to keep listening. This was not what she had wanted to hear.
“It’s gone, dammit,” Denoro said. “It’s gone…and you don’t know it. You don’t know it’s gone until it’s over. Then you start missing it. But it’s too late.”
When Denoro hesitated, Mica wanted to step from behind the pillar as though she had casually walked by, but now fascination mixed with her guilt as she focused on Denoro’s every word.
“Makes the second war easier, I guess,” Denoro said quietly, “’cause you already lost whatever it was that kept your kindu-your soul-alive and well. It’s easier to fight if you’re half dead, you know that?”
She paused again, and Henley knew better than to interrupt her, even though everything she said rasped across the exposed nerves of his own damaged soul, saying things he had been unwilling to face in himself.
“Who the void doesn’t want to be loved?” Denoro asked with renewed intensity as she leaned across the table toward him. “Everybody does. You got to want to be loved if you’ve got anything inside you at all – anything worth keeping, that is. But to be loved, you got to give it…I can t give it to nobody no more. I can’t. It’s not in me. I just can’t do it.”
With a quick wave of her hand and a flashing scowl she sent an approaching trooper away from their table. “Like right now,” she continued, “my father’s back on Mungtinez, and he’s sick, real sick. I can’t even bring myself to cry about that. I didn’t go see him when we were there, and I can’t even bring myself to go home to him now. I should do it. I know I should.”
Denoro took a long breath, and, there was a look of angry amusement in her eyes. “The war’s over. And if you want to believe what the Efcorps is saying about that bunch of stinkin’ aliens nobody’s ever seen, there’s never going to be another war. How about that? Never going to be another war. Like all of sudden the Ukes are going to quit starting them and we’re going to quit stopping them.” She paused again, the look of amusement fading as quickly as it had come.
“What does it matter, Chief? What the hell does it matter? We busted the Ukes, and now I’ve got time to do anything I want. What I should do is take some of this back leave I’ve been tacking on my R-and-L tab and ship my ass home right now, because my father might be dead tomorrow and home’s where I belong.”
Suddenly she slapped her palm flat on the table. “But I can’t go, Chief. You understand that? War or no war the Service is all I’ve got. I can’t give nothing to nobody anymore – even my father. It all got stripped away while I was busy duckin’ frags and huggin’ rags. Like some thief snatched it away before I even really knew what it was.” Her voice shook with emotion. “Now it’s like I’m standing naked all the time and my duffel’s empty. There’s nothing left to give. Nothing.”
Henley wanted to stop her now before her pain overwhelmed him. But part of him wanted her to continue, to spill the pain for both of them. He needed her to say what he knew he would never write.
“You know,” she said with a bitter laugh, “I wanted a family once. Still think it would be nice, sometimes, to have a mate and some children I could watch grow up. But there’s no spacin’ way. I could do it now. There’s no spacin’ way…It’s not that I’m too old to have children…it’s just that there’s no way I could…give…” She leaned back, head down, with a soft, shuddering sigh and slowly covered her mouth with her hand.
Words were supposed to be Henley’s specialty, but he could never put it more eloquently than she was doing. “I know,” he said quietly as leaned toward her, forcing his burning gut muscles to relax. “I know what you feel.”
The sadness Mica heard in Henley’s voice made her heart go out to him, and without thinking, she forced herself away from the pillar and into his line of vision. She wanted to shout “hello” and break the dark spell Denoro had cast over him, yet she hesitated once again.
“There’s so much,” Denoro said, moving her hand up to shade her eyes. “Oh, god, there’s so much missing.’’ There was no self-pity in her voice, only a tone of resignation. Her hand slowly fell away from her face in a helpless gesture of acceptance.
For the first time Henley understood that he only shared part of her loss, and he prayed he would never feel the same engulfing emptiness that Denoro had revealed to him. Yet he wished that both of them could cry together, here and now, if only for temporary relief from their anger and grief.
“Hello,” a voice said softly as a hand touched his shoulder.
Henley started violently as he looked up to see Mica standing beside him.
“I am sorry, Henley. I thought you saw me.” She hoped the guilt she felt didn’t show on her face.
Henley looked up at Mica and realized that while listening to Denoro he had completely forgotten she was coming. Now he suddenly wished that she could have heard Denoro’s…what? There was no name for those kinds of things, no adequate label for confessions of the soul.
“It’s all right,” he finally managed to say as he stood up and took her hand. “This is Sergeant Denoro.”
“My honor, Commander,” Denoro said, her gray eyes now hazy and distant.
“Thank you,” Mica said as she slipped her hand out of Henley’s and sat in the empty chair between him and Denoro. “It’s nice to meet you. And here in the Troopers Club, please feel free to call me Mica.”
‘“Then how about a drink, Mica?” Denoro asked a little too eagerly. “We’ll continue the victory celebration.”
“Thank you.” Mica sensed that she had broken the intimacy between Henley and Denoro.
Henley ordered her drink, another for himself and one for Denoro, whose glass was almost empty. Denoro declined, claiming that she had duty the next work watch.
Henley knew it was a lie but let it pass. When the drinks came, the three of them toasted victory, then Denoro left. After watching her disappear through the growing crowd, Henley turned to Mica and realized he was very unsure of what to say to her and after her there would be others to follow.
◊ ◊ ◊
There was a debt of revenge owed against Sondak, and always there would be those willing to fight to the death to repay that debt.
Frye Charltos wept.
The dream, the nightmare of suicide, was a stupid thing, an archaic ghost that could never stop him from fighting back
He wept for Vinita, and Marsha, and Clarest. But mostly he wept for himself. The war was over. He had lost.
Whatever else would be recorded in the annals of the United Central Systems, it would always be known that Admiral Frye ed’Laitin Charltos had led the U.C.S. to defeat.
Whatever else would be recorded, it would always be known that he had failed in his ultimate duty.
He sucked in a deep, rasping breath and forced himself to sit upright. He watched as his hands took the ceremonial pistol from its plush lined case, listened as a tear fell loudly on Its stainless-steel barrel. It was a weapon from Earth, over a thousand years old, handed down through the generations of his family. Never before had it been required to salvage the family’s honor by taking the life of one of its own members. Now it was. Now there was no choice.
Slowly, his thumb pulled the pistol’s hammer back until it clicked twice and locked into place. Slowly, his hand raised the cold muzzle to his head and steadied it against his temple. Slowly, his finger pulled the trigger.
Instantaneously, his scream mixed with the searing explosion from the pistol.
In the cave on Alexvieux Five there was darkness without end as something warm pressed itself against Frye and wrapped around his chest and held him steady. Heavy sobs echoed from cold walls.
A familiar voice spoke soothingly in his ear, calming him, reassuring him until gradually he realized that the sobs were his own and the voice was Claret’s and the warmth was her body pressed against his.
“The nightmare again,” she said, kissing his forehead as he stopped crying.
“Yes,” he whispered. “But don’t worry, Clarest. I am going to beat it, just as one day we will beat every Sondak ship in space back to the surface of their planets.”
It would take time; he knew that – more than his lifetime. But when he was gone, Clarest would continue the cause, any more than the alien alliance could. The aliens had caught him off balance once, but it wouldn’t happen again. He would prepare those who followed him to deal with any aliens foolish enough to stand against a rising tide of revenge. And he was positive the U.C.S. would rise up against Sondak again, and again, and again, until they achieved total revenge and victory.
Frye had no illusion that he would be alive to see that day, but from his final command here on Alexvieux Five he would rebuild that dream, starting with his child – the one growing now in Melliman’s womb – and that child might live to see the day of triumph now lost to him.
That was enough hope for Frye Charltos. No invisible alien could dictate terms to him or stop him from moving toward his goal. No alien could quench his fires of revenge. In the seeds of the children and grandchildren and the great-grandchildren of the U.C.S. lay the seeds of final independence and victory over Sondak, and Frye had committed his life to making that victory possible.
◊ ◊ ◊
“How’s your father?” Henley asked lamely, breaking the silence between them.
“He’s negotiating the final terms of surrender and peace with the Ukes at Gensha. Pajandcan’s joining him with a delegation from the Verfen – if you can believe that. They claim the right to some voice in the peace terms, but no one’s taking them very seriously.”
“Except for your father, the new chairman of the Joint Chiefs, who believes in closer ties to all the aliens.”
“Exactly – but Pajandcan seems to support the idea, as well.” Mica’s smile was awkward and brief. “But enough about that. This is the victory celebration, isn’t it? How are you?”
She looked uncomfortable and Henley wanted to – to what? He didn’t know. “I’m all right,” he said finally, “but I’ve missed you a great deal.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Henley, but I’m not sure--that is I don’t know if we missed each other in the same way.”
The pain in his gut tightened, and Henley prepared himself for the worst. “Are you telling me good-bye before we’ve had a good chance to say hello?”
Mica was surprised by his question but not by the wealth of affection she felt for him. “Just the opposite,” she said, reaching over and taking his hand. “I’m telling you that I missed you. And…oh, hell, I just want to know if you missed me the same way.”
Henley understood now, and it frightened him more than any rejection she could have given him. “I still can’t tell you that I love you,” he said, staring at their clasped hands. “I’m not sure I know what that means anymore, much less whether I know how to love anyone.
“I know,” she whispered. “I understand.” She wanted to say much more, but suddenly there were no words. Mica knew she had enough love for both of them without words
He leaned forward, folded her hands into his, and looked into her eyes. What he saw was her affection for him shining through her tears. Her radiant joy burned off part of the darkness he had shared with Denoro and gave him reassurance. Henley wished he and Mica were somewhere private so they could just hold each other.
“Mica, I can only offer you what I’m sure I have to give,” he said slowly, “devotion and loyalty. That’s it. I don’t know if that’s enough for you…and I don’t know if that could ever grow into love.”
“It can,” she said. He had told her what she needed to hear, and now she knew that whatever darkness the future held, it also promised something bright and good and joyous that could blossom for them out of the emotionally ravaged fields of war.
“It can,” she repeated, smiling now through her tears and stroking his hand. “We can grow anything we want.”
His smile answered hers, and for reasons he did not fully understand, Henley believed her.
Copyright © 1984, 2011, 2013 by Warren C. Norwood. This book may not be reproduced whole, or in part, by any means without permission. All characters and events are fictional and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or to real events, is purely coincidental. This book is published by Battlefield Press, Inc. All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
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