Interim: On the run from the Galactic FTL Police
Page 29
Of course, this plan, like all plans for the future now, assumed an end to Lisset’s war. Zerouali had spent much of her time since Ona working to combine the girl’s disjointed utterances, her own experience of Prophet, and data provided by Sallat into something resembling a clear picture of events. According to Zerouali’s best guess--even she didn’t dare call it a theory--Lisset had been influencing human affairs, if not at times directly manipulating them, since at least the time of her ‘rescue’ from Beshaan. An opposing force, something called the ‘Six Hundred’ had taken exception to her actions and sent an envoy, at least one manifestation of which was the so-called Embassy virus that had made any infected into agents opposing Lisset’s influence.
Maybe Zerouali was right, or half-right, or maybe not even close. Whatever Lisset was, though, whatever the Six Hundred were, Kearn only hoped that the universe had seen the last of them. After a violent and senseless diversion of several centuries, a bloodied but unbroken human race seemed now poised for a return to its more natural course. As ever, a spacer could only plunge on into the void and hope for the best. The occupants of Lady, and every human who’d lived through this dark time, would embark now on their respective futures. There was no chart. There would be no Golden Age. The future lay as open as the void itself, and unwritten.
In his arms Kearn now cradled a living piece of that future. Young Coura would not grow up the subject of any empire or the pawn of gods in some pointless, unknowable conflict. Aliens and would-be emperors would have to come through her father first.
Kearn planted one last gentle kiss upon Coura Martijn’s tiny forehead, then did the same to her mother before passing the infant carefully into Simon Ascher’s waiting arms. As he bid the three goodbye, he thought of his own more immediate future. Every life aboard Lady now seemed immensely more precious than before. It would be his role as captain to see that each found some safe haven or measure of contentment in the new order. That task may take some time.
And when it was accomplished, then what? Kearn used to think his own future was carved, not by fate or any higher power, but by his own will. He would wander the stars until statistics caught up with him in a peaceful, easy anticlimax.
Now that plan, like so many others, had changed. But the reason for that was not the demise of translight, not the trillions dead or any changed notion of reality. It was a simple pledge he’d made to one woman.
He’d told that woman that a century from now he would have stopped running. But this was not quite his actual pledge. Maybe someday he’d tell Jilan what his real promise had been.
His promise had been to spend that century, and more, with her. And when the time came, perhaps to die with her. For now, though, better to avoid giving the one with whom he was sharing his quarters a fresh excuse to start running. Or too big a head.
After half a lifetime spent enslaved to secrets, it would be a welcome change to keep only this single, harmless one.
END
AUTHOR'S NOTE
2015
I finished Interim around 2003. It was my first "real" novel, and it won a magazine contest, which told me, OK, well, maybe I kind of know what I'm doing. It has plenty of flaws in execution, but folks seem to enjoy it, so I keep it available. I like to think I have vastly improved as a writer since Interim. Even though I no longer write space opera, I hope you'll give some of my other work a try. I give away freebies & bonus content to anyone who signs up at my website:
www.ironage.space
Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed, please consider returning to this book's product page and leaving a review, however brief. I am an indie author, and positive word of mouth is gold to us.
Best,
P.K.
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