“We are gathered here today to say goodbye. Keres Loen was killed in the line of duty, working to make this galaxy a better place.”
There were a few dozen gathered before the hole in the ground. A male Skilon stood at the head of the grave, dressed in the ceremonial burial robes of the Skilon religion. Keres had been a devote worshiper and so he was buried in accordance with his beliefs. Naked, except for a white cloth wrapped around his waist and covered in sweet-smelling oil, he was to be buried with nothing between him and the earth. His head had been masterfully sewn back on his body, the seams almost undetectable unless you looked for them. A small mercy for his son, Heru.
Jaein stood by the grave, listening to the priest give the last rites. She stood but she did not listen. She was absorbed by her memories. She remembered the first time she had seen Keres. How he had smiled and been so welcoming. She remembered when her father had disowned her for choosing something “unworthy of her breeding” and how Keres had basically become her father, giving her advice and just being there for her when she needed help.
She remembered how Keres had always taken time out of every day, no matter what he was doing, to spend time with his son. Heru stood next to her, stiff upper lip and rigid back. The boy was ten years old and he was trying to be twenty. He was an orphan now. She didn’t know what would happen to him. She knew his mother had family on Yern, but she didn’t know if he would go there.
She gave the young boy a side-armed hug, pulling him tight. He pushed her off, trying to look tough. But he relented and allowed her to hug him tight. He needed someone to hold onto just as much as she did. Jaein thought about assuming Hardface and purging herself of emotion, but she did not. She had always been herself around Keres, when she could be, never using a Manner around him. She would do so as she saw him to the next life.
“…And so we give him to the mother, who will watch and protect him until such time that he is risen again.”
The priest finished his ritual and nodded his head. The mourners each walked up to the grave and, kissing their fingertips, held their right hand above the body. They let their hand drop and they departed. One by one they did this, until only three were left. Heru, Jaein, and Clint Stone. The tall human stood beside the grave and bowed his head. His lips moved but Jaein could not hear what he said. When he finished, he lifted his head and walked around the grave.
He bent down on one knee before Heru and looked at him. “How are you doing?” he asked, his voice oddly gentle and soft for such a big being. Heru shrugged, his eyes trained on the ground. Clint nodded in understanding. “I know. Everyone has asked you that and you’re sick of hearing it. I know I was.”
Heru looked up at Clint. Clint gave a sad half smile. “My dad died too, when I was about your age.” Jaein looked on in surprise as Clint told the story of how his dad had died of sickness and how Clint had been so hurt and lonely for a long time. “He was my best friend, you know. He was always there for me, ready to play baseball or read me a story. And then he wasn’t.”
Jaein could see Heru nodding as Clint talked. He didn’t know what baseball was, Jaein didn’t either, but he knew what Clint was talking about. He told Heru about how it got easier over time and how his father would always be in his heart. It was a big concept for a ten year old, that things could get better after such a loss, but Clint said it so convincingly and heartfelt that Jaein knew Heru believed him.
She hadn’t known this human had a gentle side to him. The only sides of Clint she had seen were the violent and the passionate. It surprised her, but it made her feel better. She knew the words were meant for Heru, but they meant something to her too. The sorrow was still there, but it was lessened.
“Do you want to say goodbye?” Clint asked Heru. The boy nodded. Clint nodded over at the grave. “I’ll give you some time alone.”
The boy slowly made his way to his father’s grave. Clint put his hand on his knee and pushed himself up next to Jaein. She looked up at him. It was a long way up. “Thank you,” she said. “I wasn’t sure how to talk to him. I’m sorry to hear your father died. Sickness is a terrible way to go.”
Clint shrugged. “He didn’t die of sickness. He died in the bombardment along with the rest of humanity.”
“But, you just told him…”
He gave a sad half smile, identical to the one he had given Heru. “I told him what he needed to hear.”
Jaein didn’t know what to make of that. “What will happen to him?” Clint asked, his green eyes watching the young boy.
“He’ll be staying with some friends for a while,” she said. “He’s got an aunt on Yern, but I don’t know how to find her.”
“I’ll look into it,” Clint said. Jaein was grateful for that. Heru turned around and walked over to her.
“I’ll walk with you,” said Clint. They set off for the city in the distance.
“You two never cease to amaze. I sent you to the Free Fleet as bodyguards to impress the Warlord enough that he would sign a treaty, and you come back as the Warlord. I dare say I could send you out on a scouting mission and you would return with the Lost Treasures of Albaba.
“But I am not sending you on a scouting mission. I’m giving you a week rest, gods know you’ve earned it, and then you will report to General Noromak. He has an assignment to which you two are particularly well suited. Now get out of here and enjoy some hard earned rest.”
That was what Skuar had told us, after we had returned. Now I wandered the city, looking for something, anything to do. I had gone to the funeral for Keres and I had paid my respects. I had intended to do something with Clint, but I had seen him with Lady Night and I knew I wasn’t going to see much of him in the week between now and when we started work for Noromak.
So I wandered the city. It was beautiful. Each building was a work of art, lovingly crafted. They seemed one solid piece, formed of that strange rock and metal material. The lines and the planes of the buildings seemed to flow together with simple grace, giving the impression of water, rushing over the rocks in the streambed. Where two streets met, there were large open squares, surrounded by tall buildings, with a single statue or fountain in the center.
I walked through the outskirts, from the graveyard where the Rebellion buried their dead, a large, open stretch of dirt to the north of the city. I think it was north, but it was difficult to tell in this underground city. The only way to really know where you were was by using the giant pillars as a guidance system. A small Remin had explained it to me when I asked how to find Fifth Street.
There were ten pillars around the city, each with a distinctive feature. Four of the pillars were in the residential sector, two in the market sector, and four again in industrial. Out of the four in the residential sector, they were positioned in such a way that they were at the four “corners” of the sector. They were each a different color, a foresight of the builders of the city. The green one was the one around which Streets First through Fiftieth were situated around. Red was Fiftieth through One Hundredth, Yellow: One Hundredth through One Hundred and Fiftieth, and Blue had the rest through Two Hundredth.
That was the easy part. The Residence had numbered streets, making it easy to navigate. The Market had over a hundred streets, all named after some being or another. At least those were in alphabetical order. But no one had gotten around to naming the Industrial streets. Those were navigated using the pillars and “go four streets past Tailor’s, then go right, follow the road for three more streets and turn left.” It was a bad system, but the people who worked there knew it and felt no need to change it.
I found myself wandering the area between the Market and the Residence, a place full of taverns and places of lesser morals. Every city has them, and I suppose that being in a city dedicated to fighting half the galaxy deserves a little break from reality now and then. I passed several establishments that helped in that capacity, on my way to Fifth Street and the house Clint and I had been assigned during our leave.
I heard laughter coming from one of them and I stopped. Damn it, don’t go in there. But I did.
Clint was warm. Very warm. That was one of the things Jaein really enjoyed about him. She lay against his broad chest, her head on his shoulder. Her toes reached somewhere around mid-shin. They had just spent the better part of the night experiencing ever greater pleasure. Now, they lay against each other and took comfort in the other’s closeness.
Her hand rested on his chest and she felt it rise and fall with each breath Clint took. The size of him was still surprising, even now. His arm was cradled around her, gently and lovingly, but she knew if he wanted to, he could crush her with a sudden movement. His metal arm was hard against her side, unyielding. The rest of his body was firm, but it had some give. The metal did not. But it was as warm as the rest of his body and she did not mind it.
But while the feel of it was hard, the motions it could perform were anything but. Clint gently stroked her back, a simple gesture, but one that was full of meaning. In return, she snuggled tighter against him, burying her face in his shoulder. They lay there for a long while, taking simple pleasure in knowing someone was there.
Jaein turned her face up toward Clint. She smiled wryly. “There aren’t any other women I need to know about, are there? You know, a dashing rogue like you travelling the galaxy, surely …”
She trailed off, watching his face grow dark, then return to normal. He shook his head. “No one.”
Jaein knew there was more. Diplomats are trained to detect body language and when something is not as it should be. “But there was one.” It was not a question, just a statement of fact.
He did not answer, his face unreadable. She had spent time with most of the species in the galaxy, and hundreds of individuals. None of them could disguise their thoughts like Clint Stone. That is not to say he did not show emotion, just that when he choose, he could be as expressionless as a rock wall.
“Someone from Earth?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied curtly, a hard edge to his voice. She was dead then. Jaein did not pry. He would tell her in his own time. She slid the hand on his chest to his side and gave him a hug, letting him know someone was there. Not that he didn’t know already, but she reminded him. She changed the subject.
“Where did you learn to fight? I have never seen anyone fight the way you do.”
He inhaled, his chest rising, and her body rose with it. The strength of those lungs was tremendous. She knew that from his kisses. She was left breathless and gasping for air and he seemed unaffected. “I learned most of it on Earth, but I never had to use it there. I didn’t even like fighting, back on Earth. But then I was brought out here and now it’s all I do. I feel like I have no other purpose.”
She nuzzled against him. “But you make such a difference.”
“Do I?” he said, his voice bitter. “I fight off thugs and Swrun and murderers, but then I turn around and there are twice as many. No matter what I do, there are always more. It seems pointless.”
She pushed herself up, her hands in his chest. “Never say that. You’ve saved thousands of lives. Everywhere you go, the good speak in awe of the man who has come to save them. The bad flee in terror. You are a beacon in this galaxy of darkness, and that makes all the difference in the world.”
His startling green eyes stared into hers, unbelieving. “But I do it through violence and death. How long before they look at me with fear and revulsion? Look at that, there walks the killer of thousands.”
Jaein poked him in the chest with a finger. “You do not just kill. Today, you spoke to a young boy, and let him know the world wasn’t ending. You rescued thousands of beings on Byrea. Even before you came here, the people spoke of the tall stranger who saved young girls from Flow Dens, who walked into a burning station to save hundreds of beings he didn’t even know. Heru was one of those, right? You make a difference, Clint Stone, and you do have a purpose.”
He looked at her and the look in his eyes, a mix of joy and relief and love, was almost enough to overwhelm her. “Thank you,” he said. He gripped her under the arms and pulled her on top of him, drawing her face in for a long kiss, his rough beard tickling her cheeks.
The inside of the bar was loud and dimly lit, smoke from the various pipes and tubes filling the air. I sat at the head of a long table, arm around a pretty j’Kuine, named Wyena. I think it was Wyena. My head was a little fuzzy and my vision was blurry. My throat was wet and my limbs did not respond as they should have.
Ah, the joys of alcohol. This bar was singular in the city for the serving of alcohol. They did not serve it in great mugs, like Clint drank, but tiny drops diluted in vast amounts of water. As most beings could not process alcohol, too much would kill them. But just a tiny bit was enough to bring the effects with only a headache and sore body in the morning. I had nothing to do for a week, so I could afford it.
I tossed back the shot in front of me, the crowd cheering. It seems that newcomers to this bar, the Jumping Mylax, were required to drink as much alcohol shots as they could for the first night. After that, they could come and go as they pleased. I was on my fifteenth, some sort of record for this place. Had I had full control of my facilities, I would have realized that I should have been dead after the tenth. I realized that in the morning.
But for now, I lost myself in the joys of competition. Besides drinking, this place had a reputation for the wrong sort of gambling, where the stakes were high and the losses big. And I was soaring high. I laid down the cards in my hand and laughed joyfully. Four Regents and an Emperor. I won that hand, my fifth in a row. The four beings around the table scowled as they relinquished their money.
“Who’sh nexsht?” I slurred. I was feeling good. I had never felt anything like this before. My head floated high and my fingers tingled. Actually, my whole arm was tingling. The four beings across the table shook their heads in disgust and threw their cards down on the table. They pushed their chairs back and stalked off.
“Do you wish to go somewhere more private?” whispered Wyena in my ear. I would very much like that. I stood and clutched the table for balance. I grinned and lifted my arms. “Thanks for the night! Drink are on me until this runs out!” I said as I slapped a large pile of my winnings on the bar. The bartender swept it off before any of the patrons could.
The air outside of the bar was cool on my face. “Where to?” I asked Wyena. Her long, curled ears twitched as she looked at me. “I have a house not far from here.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Then let’s go.”