Destiny shuddered with a strained groan. “We have to go, Layela,” Ardin shouted from the shuttle. Layela hesitated, her eyes trained on Zortan. She shook her head, then turned around and headed toward the small ship. Cailan whispered, and his words managed to reach her ears even as the shuttle door slid closed.
“Mirial depends on you, Lady.”
i
Avienne watched her brother’s shuttle leave. He had departed with a girl who might very well be dying, and another whom he looked at in a way that she had never seen him look at anyone else before.
Stay safe, brother. She held the quiet prayer in her heart as she checked the last of the shuttle’s supplies. Zortan had expertly chosen, stacked and secured them.
At least I won’t be flying with a rookie.
“We’re ready to head off, Captain,” Avienne said. She lost her footing as the Destiny jerked and an explosion sounded deep in her hull. The ship’s exhalation was familiar, becoming violent as air was sucked from deep within her. Her lights flickered and the shuttle bay doors went into automatic lockdown to avoid additional loss of life support.
The great lady jerked again and Avienne supported Lang so the navigator wouldn’t fall. Metal creaked on metal and slammed against itself, sending tremors through the entire hull. Destiny was done exhaling. The main section of the ship had no more air to give.
“I don’t think she’ll make it,” Avienne said after a few seconds of silence. “I don’t think the patch jobs done by those Mirialers will hold.”
Cailan didn’t meet her eyes. “She’ll make it, Avienne. She’ll make it home.” She narrowed her eyes and studied him. He looked at her then, with grey eyes that had always comforted her.
“Come with us,” she said quietly, and again as she took a step towards him. “Come with us.”
The Destiny jerked again. Its gravity engines failed for an instant and they floated up, only to be tossed to the floor a moment later when they kicked back in. Only Zortan managed to remain standing.
Cailan kneeled before Avienne and he helped her up. He held her eyes. “Go. Go and help your brother.”
Avienne jumped to her feet. “Not without you. We’re all going.” She braced herself for his anger, and was disappointed and frightened when none came.
“There is only one shuttle left, Avienne, and barely enough air for three in it.” Avienne opened her mouth to protest, but Cailan held up his hand. She pushed on anyways.
“We’ll find a way. We can bring air tanks from the space suits. That’ll keep us all going longer. And…”
“Avienne,” Cailan’s tone grew stern and stopped her. “We never refilled the air tanks on Collar. All we have left is on those shuttles already. There isn’t enough.”
Never refilled…on Collar…Avienne felt her blood grow cold. She had not had enough time to refill the oxygen after rescuing Ardin from Sunrise Flowers. She had not had enough. And one shuttle was gone, thanks to Layela and Josmere.
“We take our chances then, but we all go.” She moved forward and grabbed Cailan’s upper arm, intent on dragging him to the shuttle. His arm moved up faster than she thought possible, his hand rising to the side of her neck. She felt a prick.
“Blood and…” she mumbled as she crumpled in Cailan’s arms, the paralyzing agent rushing through her fast-moving blood.
She felt his warm breath on her ear. “Who do you think taught you everything you know?”
Cailan, no, please! She wanted to scream, to hit him, to break his teeth if necessary, but she could not move. Wrapped in his comforting arms, she was carried to the shuttle. She remembered being carried before when she was very young, after having been hurt during a fall. Her father was gone and she barely remembered him, but when Cailan had carried her to the infirmary and whispered consoling words in her ear, she had understood what having a father felt like.
This man had been more of a father to her than the great Captain Malavant. This man, the man who was staying behind on a dying ship, was her father.
“You’ll be fine for take off, just let the shuttle do her work. She’ll head automatically for Mirial,” she heard him say once he had placed her on one of the two front seats. “The landing will be tricky, but Avienne will be able to handle that one.”
A pause stretched into eternity as Avienne, trapped in her own body, fought to move a finger. Just one little finger would be the beginning.
Cailan spoke again, hesitantly, and she knew that he spoke to Zortan. “Your actions cost their father his life. Now, I have no choice but to ask you to take care of her. Please.”
She heard no response, but she felt Cailan lean in toward her, then kiss her cheek. “Take care of your brother. Take care of each other,” he whispered into her ear. He paused but stayed close. She could feel his warmth, and she wanted him to hold her again and never let her go.
Then, he pierced her with his final words. “Good bye, my daughter.”
And he was gone.
i
Cailan did not feel smothered by fear as he had years ago when Captain Malavant had died in battle. Back then, he had not known whether he would live or die, but his fear of death had been so great that it had clouded his every action.
Now, as he stood before the shuttle that would leave him on a doomed ship, he felt strangely at peace. The Malavant children would live, and that would be his repayment to Captain Malavant for his kindness. And it would be a testimony to his own life.
Zortan stood near, still a mystery to Cailan except for the fact that Radin Malavant had died believing in his closest friend. Cailan knew he would have trusted him with the life of his children, as well. He looked into the shuttle, Avienne’s eyes closed and her cheeks glistening in the fake light. He wished he could hold her again, wished he had done so more frequently when she and her brother were growing up.
He forced his gaze away. What was done was done.
He turned to face his officer. “Board up, Lang.” He handed him a small pouch of coins. “Your payment for the next month.” He met the navigator’s eyes, which were surprisingly vivid and sober. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, but you were good for this crew.”
“I always thought the old adage about a captain going down with his ship was a bit tired, myself,” Lang replied, pocketing the coins.
Cailan gave him a half smile. “Get on board and try to stay out of trouble.”
Lang looked at the shuttle, took out the small pouch of money and jiggled it a few moments before pocketing it again. He met Cailan’s eyes. “I’m not going.”
Cailan could not keep the surprise from his features.
“I’ve always wanted to die rich, and this is my best shot!” Lang joked, and Cailan’s features darkened. The navigator put up his hands.
“Seriously, I think we might be able to get her through. The bridge still has oxygen, and I looked at all the navigation data. We might be able to pull her to Mirial and lay her to rest there.”
Cailan felt his features soften. “She’s a doomed ship, Lang.”
“And you’re very negative today, Captain.” Lang smiled widely, for the first time since Cailan had hired him. “I believe you’ve been around me too long!”
Cailan shook his head. He didn’t know much about his navigator, really. Only that he was one of the best, and had been in jail when they found him. They had rescued him and hired him, and not once had he wanted to contact family or anyone else off-ship. Once, Cailan had caught Lang drunk and crying, staring at the picture of a beautiful blonde girl in a wedding dress, hope flashing in her eyes. The half with the groom had been burnt black.
Cailan had never asked. Lang had never offered.
The ship jostled, cracked, and an engine sputtered and died.
“With just half our engines, we’re going to spin out unless we compensate,” Lang said, heading towards the ladder to the bridge. “I think I’ve watched that young hotshot enough to know how it’s done!”
And he was gone, climbing the l
adder, not waiting for another argument.
“I will,” Zortan voiced and Cailan turned to face him. “I will take care of her.”
Cailan nodded, and thanked him, the words tasting less bitter as he said them. He still couldn’t help but think of the man as responsible for Captain Malavant’s death, and the wounding of Mirial.
He was surprised when Zortan held out his hand. “Thank you for raising them so finely.” He paused, swallowed hard, and then whispered, “Radin would be proud.”
Cailan looked at the offered hand and felt a great weight lift from his shoulders. He took it, strength flowing from the hand of the captain of the Royal Guards to his own. Cailan suddenly understood why Radin had liked Zortan so much. He wondered what price exile had demanded of Zortan, and if the man had tried as hard to forget Mirial as Cailan had.
As he looked into Zortan’s dark eyes, he knew that the green fields, blue skies and white architecture of Mirial haunted him still. He imagined that the stories and laughter of those left behind still visited him in his dreams, as well. He remembered the day the queen had died. Zortan had vanished with the heirs, pursued by the fleet with their divided loyalties and goals, only to head into exile. Far from their families, they had followed orders issued a lifetime ago by a Council that probably no longer existed. If anything of their home still existed.
They broke contact and Zortan walked away without looking back. He closed the shuttle door and Avienne vanished from Cailan’s view. The shuttle was gone before Cailan’s heart finished its long, heavy sigh. He watched a moment longer and turned to take the long ladder.
He paused at the bottom, hearing Destiny’s soft moan, feeling her shudder as he placed his hand on her cold metal. It’s not a tired old saying, and I won’t leave you, Lady Destiny.
He removed his hand and took the rungs quickly, skipping some as he headed to his grave. He felt strangely at peace and was glad that he would not be alone with the great ship. It was past time to find out who the blonde woman was, or had been, and what strength she had left in Lang’s heart.
And how that strength would help them carry through.
CHAPTER 30
Avienne watched the great purple cloud swallow Destiny, the ship’s starboard hull crushing as though a giant fist had slammed into it. One of its engines had twisted sideways and was slowly being pulled off its hinges by the odd strength of Mirial’s shields. When the engine vanished into the purple clouds, she realized it was probably the last she would ever see of her home. Home. She had wanted to leave it, yes, but she had also wanted to be able to come back when her heart chose to.
The numbness of her body spread to her soul. Beside her, Zortan said nothing, looking down at the panel read-outs from time to time to make sure they were still headed in the right direction.
Avienne wanted to scream and part of her wished that Zortan would, to help free her pain, trapped within her unresponsive body.
As though feeling her need, Zortan softly began singing. His voice was strong and hit more notes than it missed. The sound filled the shuttle and Avienne closed her eyes and let it fill her, too. She knew this song. It was a song she had sung since she was little, a song to welcome sailors home after a long journey.
A song she had heard nowhere else but on the Destiny, and she now understood that it must have been a song from Mirial. Now Zortan was singing it for the Destiny.
She wished she could join him.
“Avienne?” The voice flared from the communications panel and Zortan turned it on to reply. Nothing happened.
Blood and bones! Travan had been scheduled to repair this shuttle, but had never gotten around to it.
She swallowed hard, feeling the lump in her throat. It felt good to regain some sensation, even if that sensation happened to be discomfort.
“Avienne,” Ardin continued, “I’m reading an explosion on the Destiny. Something’s wrong. I’m heading back to check it out.” He paused. “Stay on course. We’ll meet you on Mirial, with Cailan in tow.”
Avienne managed to moan. It was low and guttural and all she could do, but the moan carried from deep within her throat into the shuttle. Zortan tensed beside her, and Avienne knew he feared for Layela, the girl he had sworn a lifetime ago to protect.
“I’m going to try to follow,” Zortan said. He grabbed the controls firmly and pulled them back toward him to stop forward thrust.
“Hold your course, Destiny 3,” another voice boomed over the communication link, and Avienne recognized it as Gobran Kipso’s. Before them, out of a swirl, emerged the Victory and a number of smaller ships, all the survivors of Mirial’s once-proud fleet.
“Hold course or we will have to fire on you,” Kipso paused. “I would rather not do that.”
The communications clicked off and around them, vanishing and re-emerging through the thick clouds, the Mirial fleet closed in. They were surrounded. If Avienne could have moved, she would have tried to lose them in the clouds. She would have escaped them and gotten Ardin away from the Destiny.
“Avienne,” Ardin’s voice came up again. “Avienne, the Destiny’s in bad shape.” She heard him take in a breath of stale shuttle air. “Her starboard engine is completely gone, and she’s without lights and power. I can’t hail Cailan, but we’re boarding her now to get him out, if he’s still in there.” He paused. “Blood and bones, Avienne, you’d better be all right, yourself.”
Zortan sat up, his spine straight and his hand dropping down to the pommel of the sword resting beside his chair. As Avienne wondered if he could somehow sense that Layela was in danger, an explosion rang across the communications system from Ardin’s shuttle. Avienne held her breath.
They had been in the shuttle bay when the Destiny exploded!
“Ar..” Her body had started to regain feeling and she might have been able to whisper his name, but her mind and soul were captured in the clutches of loss and her voice failed her.
Tears coursed down her face, but she couldn’t bring her hand up to wipe them away. She couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or the shock that caused her continued paralysis.
Zortan sat still beside her, silent and unmoving as their shuttle glided along with Mirial’s fleet. Gobran spoke softly.
“My sincerest condolences. The Destiny and her crew will not be forgotten.” And the system went quiet, Gobran Kipso probably already planning his next step and leaving the Destiny’s carcass behind.
Avienne understood him, in a way. For him, there was still Yoma, parading as Layela on the great beast before them. But for Avienne, who only wanted to grab the controls and find her brother or die trying, there was nothing left.
Nothing at all.
i
Captain Kipso stood beside his chair, the tension on his bridge as palpable as the shields of Mirial which nuzzled at the Victory. Gobran was not fooled by their appearance, knowing that any ship not built with the correct combination of alloys and ether would crumble at their touch. For the thousandth time he wondered if that was what had doomed the Destiny — a shabby repair job done quickly and without the right plates. A repair job his crew had completed under his supervision.
For the thousandth time, the same answer haunted him as he clutched the back of his chair. There was no point dwelling on it. Destiny’s fate had been sealed long before Gobran had found her again.
The jostling stopped and the ship suddenly glided forward easily. The sky cleared and the screen dimmed to compensate for the great light that now washed over them: Light from the first and purest sun.
Before them lay Mirial. The great sun of Mirial was tired and not nearly as bright as Gobran remembered. Long ago, it had warmed his skin in the summer. He wondered if the sunsets were still riddled with the deepest of blues, reds and oranges. Now, as far as the eye could see around the sun, the universe was purple, proving that the shields were still strong.
Caught in the sun’s gravity, a chunk of planet floated not far from the Victory, the giant piece of rock black and ch
arred and desolate. The planet had been small and, like all planets this near to Mirial, Gobran knew it had once borne life. Slowly it rotated, half of it still showing the sphere it had once been, the other half crumbled and destroyed, its exposed core frozen and hard.
“Is that…” Loran began.
“No,” Gobran whispered. “Our home was protected by strong ether.” After years of studying the maps of his home, always thinking of where Mirial was now in her orbit, always prepared for the day when he would find the heir and bring her home, he knew where to look. He wished he felt pride and not simply dread as he pointed to the right. Just at the sun’s edge, a small dark dot crossed against the dimmed ball of light. His voice was hushed as he spoke the words he had waited so long to speak.
“That...is Mirial.”
He could not see the surface of the planet from here, only that it still existed. He forced himself to stay where he was and not take a step forward to try to get a better view. Despite his confident words to Loran, he still wanted to see for himself that Mirial had been protected. A chill caught hold of him and went to his bones, and he wished he could be there now, warmed by her sun, laughing with his wife and children on the great sandy shores of Glass Lake. To be warm again.
“Captain,” Loran’s voice was a welcome distraction. “We’re being contacted. Channel 000.” Gobran sucked in his breath. Channel 000 was the capital’s military frequency. For the first time in almost twenty years, he would be in contact with Mirial.
He took a deep breath and held out his chest just a bit. Not caring that they could not see him, he straightened his jacket.
“Open a channel,” he replied, and Loran nodded. He felt a collective breath being held by all the crew members — the older ones who were still haunted by memories of Mirial, and the younger ones who were spurred on by their hopes and their longing for a true home.
“This is Captain Gobran Kipso of the Victory.” His voice was clear, strong, and proud. He flushed. “We are approaching the planet, E.T.A. 47 minutes.” He hesitated, and decided not to mention the heir. There would be time for that yet. “Request permission to land at the capital.”
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