Songs of Love & Death

woman I loved. I couldn’t do anything for the battle group or for Kusatsu-Shirane, but maybe I could do something for Mercedes.

She joined us that evening for supper. With Mercedes, it was a tight fit around the small table in the mess, but we all squeezed in. Jahan had prepared a slow-simmered stew of rehydrated vegetables and lamb for the omnivores, and there was a vegetarian dish for Dalea and Jax. Like all Isanjo food, it was highly spiced, so I drank more beer than normal. Perhaps it was due more to sitting so close to Mercedes.

Once the plates were cleared, Melin brought me a reader. I was embarrassed to display this silly ship custom in front of Mercedes. I hedged. “I don’t remember where we were.”

“The chapter entitled ‘Wayfarers All,’ page 159, second paragraph,” Jax offered helpfully. I mentally cursed the creature for its perfect recall.

“What is this?” Mercedes asked.

“We read aloud after the final meal of the day,” Jahan said. “Each one of us picks a book from our species. You never really know a culture until you’ve heard their poetry and read their great literature.”

“An interesting way to spread understanding,” Mercedes said thoughtfully.

“Yes, you don’t allow it in your human schools and universities,” Dalea said.

Mercedes blushed and I glared at the Hajin.

“And what human book did you select?” Mercedes hurriedly asked me, to cover the awkward moment.

“The Wind in the Willows.”

Mercedes shifted her chair so she could better see me. “Please, do read.”

I was embarrassed, and cleared my throat several times before starting, but after a few sentences, the soft magic of the story and the music of the words made me forget my special listener.

“She will clothe herself with canvas; and then, once outside, the sounding slap of great green seas as she heels to the wind, pointing South! And you, you will come too, young brother; for the days pass, and never return, and the South still waits for you. Take the Adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes!” My voice cracked on the final words. I coughed and reached for my beer and finished off the last sip. “That’s all the voice I have tonight,” I said.

There were a few groans of disappointment, but the party broke up, some of the crew to return to the bridge, others to their cabins to sleep. I escorted Mercedes back to the cabin.

We stopped at the door, and an awkward silence fell over us both. “I’ve slept a night,” she finally said quietly.

My collar suddenly grabbed my throat. I ran a finger around it. “Ah… yes, you have.”

“I believe I’ll take the wayfarer’s advice,” she murmured, and she kissed me.

I had enough wit, barely, to lock the door behind us.

LATER, WE LAY in the narrow bed. I liked that it was narrow. It meant that she had to stay close. Her head was on my shoulder, and I twined a strand of her hair through my fingers. I was very aware of the scent of Mercedes—the deep musk of our sex mingling, the spice and pine smell of her hair—her breath, which seemed to hold a hint of vanilla. I kissed her long and deep, then pulled back and smacked my lips.

“What?”

“You taste like vanilla too,” I answered. She blushed. It was adorable. She ran a hand through my dishwater blond hair. “I know, I’m shaggy. I’ll get a haircut on Cuandru.”

“I like it. It makes you look rakish. You were always so spit and polish.”

“I had to be. Everyone was waiting for the ‘lowborn scum’ to disgrace the service.”

She laid a hand across my mouth. “Don’t. Forget about them. Forget the slights.”

“Hard to do.”

“Don’t be a grievance collector,” Mercedes said. She changed the subject. “Lot of silver in there.”

I stroked the gray streaks at her temples. “Neither of us is as young as we used to be.”

“Really? I would never have known that if you hadn’t told me.” She pulled my hair, and we laughed together.

I was on the verge of dozing off when she suddenly rested a hand on my chest and pushed herself up. Her hair hung around her like a mahogany-colored veil. My good mood gave way to alarm, because she looked so serious.

“Tracy, do something for me?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t report that you’ve found me. Not just yet. I want a little more time.”

I did too. So I agreed.

Late in the sleep cycle, I was awakened by her cries. Tears slid from beneath her lashes and wet her cheeks though she was still asleep. She thrashed, fighting the covers. I caught her in my arms, and held her close.

“Mercedes, mi amor. Wake up. You’re safe.”

Her eyes opened and she blinked up at me in confusion. “They’re dead.” She gave a violent shiver, and covered her face with her hands, then looked in surprise at the tears clinging to her fingers. “I see those houses. The children. I killed them.”

I rocked her. “Shhh, hush, you didn’t.” But it was only a half-truth and she knew it. And she was only mentioning half the dead. There was no word of the battle group. The men she’d commanded, and who had died no less surely than the people of Kusatsu-Shirane.

Eventually, she fell back to sleep. I lay awake, holding her close and wondering when the full trauma would hit.

SINCE THERE WAS AN Imperial shipyard at Cuandru, I came out of Fold at the edge of the solar system. I didn’t want the big point-to-point guns deciding that we were some kind of threat. I ordered Baca to tight beam our information—ship registry, previous ports of call (excluding the Hidden Worlds, of course), and cargo—to the planetary control. My radio man gave me a look.

“We’re not mentioning the Infanta?”

“Not yet. Her orders,” I answered, striving to sound casual. Melin and Baca exchanged glances, and Melin rolled her eyes. I felt the flush rising up my neck, into my face, until it culminated at the top of my ears. Not for the first time, I cursed my fair complexion.

“Then she better be a crew member,” Jahan said. “Otherwise, they’ll think we’re white slavers and we kidnapped her.”

“She’s not young enough,” I said.

“Oh, boy,” Baca muttered.

“Better not let her hear you say that,” Jahan said.

“What?” I demanded.

Melin said, “Captain, somebody’s got to take you in hand and teach you how to be a boyfriend.”

“I’m not her boyfriend. She’s married. We’re friends.”

“Okay. Then you got a lot to learn about being a lover,” Melin said.

At that moment, I hated my crew. I made an inarticulate sound and clutched at my hair. “Get her on the crew list.” I stomped off the bridge.

I DECIDED TO take us in to dock at the station. I shooed Melin out of her post, and she proceeded to hover behind me like an overanxious mother. Through the horseshoe-shaped port, we could see the big cruisers under construction. Spacesuited figures, most of them Isanjos, clambered and darted around the massive skeletal forms. Against the black of space, the sparks off their welders were like newly born stars.

There was a light touch on my shoulder. I glanced up briefly. It was Mercedes, and sometime in the past few hours, she had cut her hair, dyed it red, and darkened her skin. Dalea loomed behind her.

“What’s this?” I asked, hating the loss of that glorious mane.

“We had to do something to keep her from being recognized,” Dalea said.

“I’m sure the port authorities will be expecting to find the Infanta aboard a tramp cargo ship,” I said sarcastically, as I tweaked the maneuvering jets.

Jahan, seated at my command station, said “Tracy, her face is on the