The Lost Stars: Tarnished Knight

Finally on his way back to his own room to do some final preparations of his own, Drakon came across the brigade commander. Colonel Gaiene sat in a passageway, back against one bulkhead, facing the bulkhead across from him since no one else sat on that side. If they had to describe Conor Gaiene’s appearance in one word, most people would have chosen “dashing.” Or maybe “gallant” or perhaps “swashbuckling.” Even sitting on the deck, he somehow seemed ready to leap up and lead a charge.

That was how he appeared until you noticed his eyes, dark and weary even though Gaiene was still a few years shy of middle age. Now those eyes looked up as Drakon approached. “Good afternoon, General.”

“Good afternoon.” There were few other soldiers near the command deck, and those were giving their brigade commander as much room and privacy as current circumstances allowed, so Drakon took a seat next to Gaiene. “How are you doing?”

“I’m sober. And alone. Alas.” A female soldier walked by, and Gaiene watched her appreciatively though discreetly. “No sleeping with subordinates. Is that rule really necessary?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Most CEOs don’t care. Most CEOs right now would have a drink in one hand and one of their subordinates in the other.”

Drakon grinned. “I’m not most CEOs.”

“No. You’re not.” Gaiene looked toward the far bulkhead, his expression pensive. “For which I am smart enough to be grateful.”

“You’re brilliant in battle, Con.”

“And the rest of the time I’m a royal pain in the butt.” Gaiene ran one hand through his hair, and Drakon caught a glimpse of the ring on one of his fingers. How long ago had she died? Ever since then, Gaiene had tried to forget her with every woman who was willing and every bottle he could crack open. But he still wore the ring. “I don’t know why you keep me around.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Any other CEO would have had me in a labor camp long before this,” Gaiene remarked. “As one of the guards or as one of the inmates.”

Drakon nodded. “And that would be a real waste.”

“A waste. Yes. We know all about that, don’t we? Scarred lives and damaged souls. We’re all damned, you know,” Gaiene went on in a conversational voice. “Everywhere we’ve fought, we’ve left a little piece of ourselves and replaced it with a small piece of the hell we found in that place. Now most of us is scattered in a hundred little pieces in a hundred places where death walked. I see those places. I see them all the time. Usually in my dreams, but sometimes I see them when I’m awake.”

Gaiene could be moody when sober, but this was worse than usual. “Are you all right?” Drakon asked. “Can you handle going into another fight?”

“I’m fine. The psychs say I will soon achieve emotional equilibrium again. They’ve been saying that for a very long time. I will go on, though,” Gaiene added, his tone now slightly distant. “I will go on until the day I end; then you will give me a proper warrior’s burial, and you will go on.”

“Unless we both end together that day,” Drakon said.

“Ah, no, General. It’s not for you to talk of endings. You still have a future.”

“So do you.”

But this time Gaiene did not reply. He sat, his eyes on the opposite bulkhead, but looking at another place and time.

There were a great many things that Drakon needed to be doing. But he sat next to Gaiene for a long time without talking, shoulder to shoulder against a future that was uncertain and a past too clearly remembered.

* * *

“FIVE minutes to docking,” the announcing system on the freighter declared. The operator of this particular freighter had chosen a woman’s voice using an odd and strong accent, producing an effect that combined attention-getting for the strangeness and annoyance over the difficulty of understanding some of the words.

“Probably the voice of the owner’s mistress,” Gaiene commented. He and all of his soldiers were in combat armor, ready to go when the freighter docked.

“I can’t think of any other explanation.” Drakon’s armor was tied into the freighter’s own systems, so he could monitor the approach directly. On visual, the shape of the dock ahead of them stood out brilliantly white against the black of space. “No sign of any special— Wait. Looks like a squad of local troops in armor.”

Colonel Gaiene sighed with exasperation. “Now we’ll have to waste ammunition on them.”