In Her Name

“Yes,” the Empress said, “indeed you shall. But your talents are required elsewhere. You must go to the place where your warriors shall gather, and help see them safely away from here upon the ships that even now are approaching. Several of your strange devices used to aid in this task are there, awaiting you.”

“Beacons?” Eustus thought aloud. “Where did you get–”

“Eustus,” Enya hushed him gently, “later.” She did not understand much about the alien woman who stood facing her, but she had seen enough to grasp the incredible power she wielded, as well as her sincerity. But one question could not be set aside. “Does the war end here? Or tomorrow will we once again be enemies?”

Emulating the human gesture she had learned from Reza in their childhood, the Empress shook her head. “Never again after this day shall our two races meet,” she replied solemnly. “The ancient prophecies this day shall be fulfilled, and so shall end the Way of the First Empire. And just as the coming dawn shall bring the first day of the Second Empire, so, too, shall the Way of your own people take a new, brighter course.”

“And what of you?” Enya asked. “What of your people? And Reza, what of him?”

The Empress turned to where Shera-Khan now stood, content, his face no longer streaked with black. “We are something much more than we have ever been,” she replied gently. “And Reza… awaits me.” She bowed her head. “We shall remember you. Always.”

And in the Empress’s eyes, Enya fully understood those words. Gazing upon a face whose soul was thousands of generations old, Enya realized that “always” to these people truly meant forever.

“Farewell, and thank you…” was all Enya had time to utter before the throne room suddenly disappeared, to be replaced by a huge landing bay somewhere else in the city and an odd assemblage of human equipment, the beacons, that Eustus was feverishly working on. Moments later, as she stood watching, the first Marines arrived.

* * *

The Empress turned Her attention to the remaining human figure that still knelt upon the dais. “That which was shared with you, child,” She said gently in the Old Tongue, “must now be returned.”

Seemingly weightless, Nicole rose to her feet, her eyes fixed on the Empress. Her heart raced not with fear, but with joy at Her voice, Her command.

The Empress’s hand closed gently around hers, and the Kreelan monarch led her to a point on the dais where there stood a crystal spire that Nicole dimly recognized as not having been there before, and saw at its apex the crystal heart aglow with blue flame. She did not feel the claw that gently drew against the skin of her palm, did not feel the warmth of her own blood as it welled up from her flesh. She watched as the Empress’s hand placed her own against the pulsing crystal heart.

“Reza,” Nicole gasped as she touched it, as her blood melded with something that was not merely a structure of inert mineral carved by artisans whose bodies had turned to dust countless centuries before, but was alive and had a spirit, a soul. A soul she had known for most of her life. Like a river swollen by monsoon rains, Nicole felt the alien spirit that Reza had shared with her so long ago rush across the living bridge that had been made between her hand and the crystal vessel. The fire in her blood, numbed by the Empress’s empathic touch, flickered and died just as the last of the alien voices fell silent. And then all was still. All was as it should have been, as it had been before Reza had shared his blood with her. In a way that would take her many years to understand, she was terribly saddened at the silence that suddenly filled her, the same silence and isolation that Reza had faced all of his adult life.

Exhausted, drained, she staggered back from where the crystal was now rippling with blue fire, the details of the heart’s surface lost in a cyan glare. She collapsed to the floor, her eyes fixed on the blinding radiance that began to grow, expand. She knew that her eyes must be blinded by such brilliance, but she felt no pain, and dared not turn away from what was now unfolding. There was no heat, no sound. There was only the light, and the figure of the Empress standing close by, staring into the center of the tiny star that burned beside the throne. The Empress lifted her arms, hands outstretched, as if beckoning to someone.

And then Reza stepped from the light, traversing a passage that linked the here and now with some other realm that Nicole felt she had once known, but that was now a universe beyond her mortal understanding. The palms of the two lovers touched, their fingers entwined, and the Empress drew him into an embrace that left no doubt of their love for each other, the queen and her knight, man and woman, husband and wife. Behind him, the pathway closed, the light fading away until the only trace left was the afterimage that flickered in Nicole’s eyes.

The crystal heart was gone.

“Nicole,” Reza said quietly, suddenly kneeling next to her.

“Reza…” she shook her head, not knowing what to say, or how. His armor gleamed as if new, the Kreelan steel black and infinitely deep as the great rune – she tried in vain to remember what it signified – glowed at its center. His eyes were alight with a fire that she had never seen, with the power of life, of fulfillment.

“Father Hernandez once told me that he believed in divine miracles,” she said. “I was never sure I could believe in such things… until now.”

Reza smiled and took her in his arms. Holding her close to him as a brother might a beloved sister, he said, “My life, my happiness, do I owe to you. And whatever the future may bring for you and your people, Nicole, remember that I shall always love you. Always.”

He kissed her, lightly, on the lips, and she put a hand to his face, her fingers tingling at the warmth of his skin.

“Adieu, Reza,” Nicole said quietly.

“Farewell, my friend,” Reza said, and then in the Old Tongue, “and may thy Way be long and glorious.”

And suddenly, he was gone. Nicole felt a cold chill blow over her, and a mist clouded her vision for a split second, as if the world had suddenly gone out of focus and then come back. In the blink of an eye, she found herself staring at the dumbstruck bridge crew of the battlecruiser Sandhurst.

“Captain Carre!” someone exclaimed. Turning numbly toward the speaker, she saw old Admiral Sinclaire rushing toward her, his ruddy face reflecting wonder, confusion, and concern. “What in blazes…?”

But Nicole’s first thought was not about where she was or how she had gotten there. It was about someone she had left behind.

“Jodi…”

Fifty-Eight

Being rich, regardless of how it had come about, had had its advantages for Markus Thorella. Among the many other pleasures he had experienced as a young man, he had learned how to pilot a starship. He was not as competent or as experienced as the Navy crews who flew as part of their careers, but he could fly.

The flight controls of the Golden Pearl, in fact, were much the same as the yacht his father had once bought for him so many years ago. Thus, his escape from the strange disaster that had befallen Lieutenant Riggs’s platoon was all but assured, even without the ill-fated command ship to extract him. The Pearl was waiting in the landing bay, almost as if it had been meant for his use.

Unfortunately, escape was all he could manage for the moment. He could not get back into the battle yet, for he was unable to raise any of the nearby human ships on the Pearl’s data link, with the net result that he was cut off from the rest of the fleet. It seemed that he could receive information, but could not transmit anything. He had to assume that the onboard comms package was malfunctioning, and that the IFF system probably would not work. Without that, the Pearl would be singled out by any nearby human warship as an approaching enemy and blasted out of space. All he could do was curse and wonder what was wrong with the ship.