Reza’s chest tightened as he saw Nicole brush away a tear. She wanted so much for him to be with her. This is what he had been feeling in his blood for the last couple of months. It was the song of her happiness.
“There is a file attached with everything you should need to get here, transport schedules and so on. I do not know how, but Jodi found enough priority-one transit vouchers to get you from the Penlang La transit station on the Rim back to Earth.” She forced a smile, and he could imagine her fears that he would never receive the message, or get it late, or not be able to come back to Earth. Or be dead. So much could go wrong over distance and time, through bloody war. But his blood burned brightly, his spirit calling to her, to reassure her that her message had found its way to him.
“Take care, Reza,” she said. “Je t’aime.” The screen faded to black.
***
Jodi waited alone at the crowded spaceport terminal. Nicole and Father Hernandez had wanted to come, but Jodi had insisted that they stay and get ready for the wedding that was to take place this evening. She had arranged Reza’s transport schedule as well as she could, but getting people from the Rim to the Core Worlds on any kind of real schedule was impossible. Jodi was nervous, worried that Reza wouldn’t make it, because he had not appeared on any of the earlier flights today, and the shuttle coming down now would be the last one scheduled before the wedding was to start. They were cutting it awfully close.
To add to her consternation, the trash-hauler (a less-than-affectionate name most pilots held for the ugly little orbital shuttles) was late, as usual. To make matters worse, she had no idea if Reza was on it, or even if he had made transit aboard the transport the shuttle was now returning from. She had tried to find out two dozen times over the last week if Reza was on the rosters of any of the seven different ships he had to board to get from the Rim back to Earth, and she had drawn a blank on all of them. The harried transportation people had tried to be helpful, but it hadn’t changed the fact that she knew no more now than she had a month ago.
“Trying to track things down on Rim transits,” one of the agents had told her with a shake of her head, “makes finding a needle in a haystack look easy.” Jodi had no idea what a haystack was, but she’d gotten the picture. She decided to just go to the terminal and wait, because if Reza wasn’t on this shuttle he was going to miss the wedding, anyway.
Finally, the transport arrived, its squat shape heaving into view while it jockeyed for position next to the extending boarding tube. The repeller field shimmered against the ground as the gaily painted – in red, white, and blue, no less – shuttle settled on its seven landing struts.
After what seemed to Jodi to be an interminable wait, passengers began to trickle from the gateway. She tried to get closer, but a solid wall of babbling people prevented her from seeing anything more than bobbing heads.
“Goddammit,” she muttered in annoyance as a Navy commander pushed past her to embrace a squealing woman from the shuttle. The two of them, oblivious to the rest of humankind, solidly blocked the aisle with their wet and sloppy reunion. Jodi thought she was going to gag.
“Pardon me, please,” a deep voice said from among the debarking passengers trapped behind the commander and his bimbo. The request had been gentle, but was nonetheless the voice of one accustomed to being obeyed. The babbling among the nearest waiting friends, relatives, and others suddenly ceased as the man, now revealed as a Marine captain in dress blue uniform, stood silently, waiting.
The commander released his significant other and gave Reza a hard stare. “Aren’t you forgetting something,” the commander said, pointing to the three full gold rings around his sleeve, “captain?”
“Not at all, commander,” Reza replied, returning the man’s stare. He pointed to the single ribbon – a cluster of white stars set against a field of azure blue – that made up its own row above the seven other full rows of combat decorations, five more rows than the Navy officer could boast, that adorned his uniform.
The Navy officer stared at the ribbon for a moment, before slowly lifting his right arm in a salute. While he outranked Reza, centuries-old tradition dictated that a bearer of the Medal of Honor was entitled to a salute first by his or her fellow service members, regardless of their rank. In the war against the Kreelans, there had been many Medal of Honor winners; unfortunately, since most of them were awarded posthumously, pitifully few recipients survived to enjoy the courtesy that tradition granted them.
“Good day to you, sir,” Reza said pleasantly as he smartly returned the salute and stepped past the man and his open-mouthed companion.
“Reza!” Jodi cried, throwing herself into his arms, burdened as they were with his two flight bags. He didn’t even have time to utter her name before she covered his mouth with hers in an unexpectedly passionate kiss. Reza could not see, but behind him, Jodi made sure that the Navy man saw the three stripes on her sleeve as she put her arms around Reza’s neck. When they made eye contact, Jodi gave him a wink. A moment later, she drew away from Reza, who still stood there, stunned.
“Jodi!” he breathed, his face flushed with – mostly, he knew – embarrassment. “What are you–”
“Just welcoming you home, is all,” she said, a devilish smile lighting up her face as she took him by the elbow and led him into the main terminal.
“Commander Mackenzie,” Reza said with a smile as he sensed the Navy officer behind him fuming in embarrassment and not just a little bit of jealous envy, “you are a bloody liar.”
Jodi laughed. “No doubt. But hey, let’s get a move on – we’re late and we’ve got a long way to go.”
***
“So,” Jodi said when she had gotten him settled into her skimmer, “how was your trip?”
Reza grunted. “Long. Boring. And I am convinced that not one single galley in the entire human fleet – outside of my own ship, of course – can properly prepare meat for a Kreelan warrior.”
Jodi laughed. “Well, don’t get your hopes up here, either. Tony bought one of those silly barbecue contraptions not long ago. I guess he didn’t like the processor food, and now he’s convinced himself that he can cook with the thing.” She shook her head. “I guess you can eat anything if you put enough of that weird sauce of his on it, though.”
Reza made a face. “I will cook,” he said with determination.
The skimmer shuddered lightly as it pulled away from the ground. A moment later, the landing gear retracted and Jodi turned the craft southwest. Reza watched the ground fall away. The spaceport complex soon faded from view as the skimmer gained speed and altitude.
But his mind was not on the lush trees and velvet green landscape rushing by below. He was thinking of Jodi. The happiness that had bubbled from her at the spaceport seemed to have evaporated. Beneath the crumbling veneer he saw fear and, more than that, a growing mountain of loneliness. There was silence between them for a time, but Reza could feel her pain, and it reminded him of the wound that still bled within his own heart.
“What are you going to do, Jodi,” he asked quietly, turning to her, “after Nicole is wed?”
“I… I don’t know, Reza,” she said, trying to keep her voice even as she switched on the autopilot. “I know that three’s a crowd, but I haven’t had any brilliant flashes of insight as to what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Not after… not after she leaves me.”
“They would let you stay–”
“Yeah, right,” Jodi interrupted. “Come on, Reza, what am I supposed to do? Be the live-in nanny for the kids they want to have? How about Tony’s public relations rep? Or maybe Nicole’s manicurist. Yeah, I can see that one: Jodi Mackenzie, shoots down alien fighters by day, does nails by night.” She was silent for a moment, and then hammered a fist against the flight console. “Fuck it,” she shouted angrily. “Just fuck it all to hell!”
She made to pound on the unoffending console again, but her fist found only Reza’s palm, which gently enveloped hers. He drew her to hi
m with irresistible strength and held her as the tears came.
“I know that she doesn’t want me,” she said as she fought against the painful tide in her heart, “but in my mind I kept thinking that, maybe someday she’d come around. I mean, not even to sleep with me – I knew from the first that that was always going to be just a fantasy. But I thought that maybe I could be her companion, someone she could share her life with.” She closed her eyes and buried her face against Reza’s chest, her tears streaking his uniform. “But now, it’s all over. Sure, we can still be friends,” she said bitterly. “And what the fuck does that mean, Reza? That maybe she’ll remember my name after the first tour we have to spend apart? That maybe we can squeeze in a quick lunch now and then – if we happen to be in the same star system – so she can tell me all about Tony and their oh-so-wanted kids? It’s not enough for me, Reza,” she choked. “It’s just not fucking enough.”
She shuddered against him, holding him tighter, and she could not see the tears in his own eyes as he thought of Esah-Zhurah. He had never stopped thinking of her. Never. The pain was not so great as it once was, but it ebbed and flowed like the tide.
After a while, her sobbing eased, then stopped. Her arms loosened slightly from around his chest, but only a little. “I doubt I’ll be lucky enough to grow old, Reza,” she whispered, “but if I get that chance, I don’t want to grow old alone.”
“Jodi,” he told her, “the loneliness you fear is what has filled my heart since I left the Empire… since I left behind the woman who owns my heart. The only things that have sustained me since then have been my memories of her and the friendship I have been shown, by you more than any other. You are right when you say that it is not enough, to just be friends when your heart cries out for something more. But sometimes it has to be enough. Fate is neither kind nor fair; it simply is. But no matter what happens, remember that I will always be there for you. No matter how many stars apart we may be, I will always be there…”
***
Tony Braddock did everything he could to resist the urge to pace back and forth before the altar. The patient beauty of the chapel that had been the gleaming centerpiece of the otherwise bland Ridgeway Military Reservation was in stark contrast to the anxiousness he felt. The chapel had stood on this spot for over four hundred years, silent witness to countless baptisms, weddings, and funerals. But to Tony, waiting for the remaining members of his tiny wedding party to arrive so he could finally marry the woman he loved, the last forty minutes had seemed every bit as long as the chapel’s four centuries.
“Where can they be?” he wondered aloud for what must have been the tenth time. He glanced yet again at his watch before looking out at the guests who now filled the many pews behind him. Neither he nor Nicole had many friends here, and they originally had wanted a small, private ceremony. But by the time they had invited their few real friends, Nicole’s squadron-mates, and finally made the obligatory invitations to members of the Council – plus the spouses of all of the above – the chapel had been filled to capacity, with nearly five-hundred people in attendance.
Such an event, of course, also drew the attention of the media. Nicole’s combat record, and her current score of nearly two hundred kills, was well known, and Tony was a member of the Council. While their wedding was not exactly considered the gala event of the year, there was a healthy interest in getting some shots of the bride and groom, plus any other notables who might pass before the lens. Besides, the editors had reasoned, there might always be the odd opportunity to gather a bit of smut in the process. In any event, two junior but competent reporters had been dispatched to take in the scene. One was from the Confederation Times, the other from the Navy Journal. They had already circulated amongst the guests for interviews and any tidbits they might pick up while people were still arriving. But right now the two were standing at the back (there was nowhere for them to sit), looking much like everyone else was at the moment: impatient.
Father Hernandez, too, looked around worriedly. While the people here seemed good-humored and were certainly willing to put up with certain inconveniences, there was always the question of how long was too long. Jodi was to be the maid of honor, and Reza was to play a dual role, giving away the bride as well as being Braddock’s best man. As such, their absence constituted something of a problem.
He sighed heavily. “Well, I will see what your bride wishes to do,” he said.
Braddock watched him disappear through one of the doors that let onto the dais that held the altar, trying not to feel silly as he stood there alone, waiting.
“Jodi,” he muttered under his breath, “I’m going to strangle you…”
Meanwhile, Hernandez bustled back to the room where Nicole had been getting ready. Knocking on the door, he called, “Nicole. They have not yet arrived. What do you want to… do…?”
At that moment she opened the door and stepped into the corridor. She wore a white wedding gown that made her look like a princess from a fairy tale. The porcelain skin of her face glowed beneath the veil she wore, and her eyes glittered like jewels, showing no concern, only joyful anticipation.
“They are coming now, Father,” she told him. She could always tell when Reza was near, always knew how he felt. “Trust me,” she said after he gave her a look of acute disbelief.
“Now, child,” he began, “I know you’re nervous on this magnificent day, but you should not let your imagination–”
A door swinging open at the end of the hall, followed by the sound of running footsteps, interrupted him.
“Oh, Jesus – oh, shit, sorry, didn’t mean to say that, Father – Reza’s shuttle was late and we…” Jodi’s explanation tapered off when she saw Nicole standing there next to the old priest. “Nicole,” she breathed. “God, you look so beautiful.”
“I only wonder if the good councilman will be able to properly appreciate such beauty,” Reza said with a smile from behind Jodi. “It is good to see you again, Nicole.”
They embraced, Nicole putting her arms around Reza’s neck as he lifted her from the ground, holding her tightly against his chest.
“Reza,” she breathed as she kissed his cheek, “I am so glad you could come. I knew you would.”
“All the warriors of the Empire could not have kept me away,” he told her. “I am so happy for you, Nicole. I only wish… that I had more time to be with you than we have had over the last few years.” Almost unwillingly, he lightly set her down again. “But–”
“Do not speak of it, mon ami,” she told him, putting a finger against his lips. “You are here now. That is all that is important. Nothing more.”
Hernandez cleared his throat. “Nicole,” he said, “I think perhaps that it is time to begin.”
***
The music was not traditional; Nicole’s concession to tradition had been her wedding gown. Nonetheless, the chapel’s ancient pipe organ – bringing to life a composition by Jules de Clerc, from Nicole’s native La Seyne – declared the occasion one of joy. Everyone was now standing, turned toward the rear of the chapel. The time they had spent waiting for this moment was forgotten as the moment of truth – and beauty – arrived. Tony Braddock stood nervously at the head of the maroon carpet that would guide his bride to him. Father Hernandez stood by the altar, his eyes beaming.
Jodi came down the aisle first, bravely holding back the tears that were at once a sign of joy and sorrow. Her dress whites sparkled in the sunlight admitted by the chapel’s two-story high windows as her feet made a precise seventy-five centimeter stride toward the altar. She took her place just to the left of where Nicole was to stand. She smiled at Tony’s happily anxious face, and the two of them waited for the bride to emerge.
The music changed tempo, slowing slightly, the major chords now as bright as the sun outside. As one, the guests turned toward the rear of the chapel, expectation plainly written on their faces.
Reza, his dress blues a vivid contrast to the regal white of Nicole’s wedding gown, led
her arm-in-arm down the aisle. He ignored the sudden murmuring of those who noticed the Kreelan collar he wore and the length of his hair; in fact, he ignored everyone except the woman who walked beside him and his friends standing at the altar. He rejoiced at the happiness he could feel in her heart and in Tony’s, and the pride he felt in Father Hernandez’s. Inside, though, he wept at the pain he felt in Jodi’s heart, pain that was so much like that in his own. But on his face he wore the mask that he showed to the world when he did not wish to show the truth inside.
Nicole glanced over at him, a cloud of concern flashing across her face. She momentarily felt a pang of guilt at the pain she could sense deep inside him, a melancholy chord that ran through her blood. She felt as if she was abandoning him by marrying Tony. But she had offered herself to him long ago, she had wanted to love him, but he had gently turned her away. Their eyes met for a moment, and their minds linked for just that fraction of a second.
It is my Way, Reza’s eyes told her. Yours is upon a different – I pray happier – path.
Is it indeed, my brother? her own eyes replied, echoing the doubt in her mind.
Reza turned away. Nicole wanted to hold him to her, to force him to look her in the eye once more, but the moment was gone and the altar now stood before them. What had gone unspoken was lost now forever, she understood sadly. She could feel the rhythm of his soul in her blood like faint sighs in the night, but she knew that from this moment on he would never open himself up to her as he once had, would never let her look into his eyes like that again. Not because he was jealous or angry about the vows she was about to take, but because he loved her, and did not want to endanger the happiness she might find with another, with the man she was about to marry.
“I love you, Reza,” she whispered.
Reza stood in silence beside her as the music drew to a close; they had reached the end of their journey to the altar.
“Good people,” Father Hernandez said, standing before them, “let us pray.” Among the guests heads lowered and eyes closed. Reza, respectful of but untouched by Hernandez’s God, silently studied the figure of Christ hanging from the cross upon the wall over the altar as Hernandez offered a prayer to Him:
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