important surviving nobles and military leaders.
Barbara Miles continued her voice-over report. 'Following the incredible raid which led to the destruction of the Imperial homeworld, Kilrah, the Kilrathi decision to sue for peace was greeted with excited celebrations throughout human space. After months of peace talks deliberating a final settlement, the initial cease-fire was finally converted to a lasting peace through the Kilrathi acceptance of the Treaty Of Torgo.'
The view switched back to a head-and-shoulder shot of Barbara Miles. 'TNC attempted to contact the pilot who carried out the Kilrah raid for his reaction to the peace treaty, but Colonel Christopher Blair was unavailable for comment. We will have further details on the signing of the peace treaty later in this Infoburst . . .'
Blair switched off the newspad and glanced out the port beside him. The shuttle began its descent now, crossing the terminator just as the dawning sun lit below the curved blue and white arc of the planet.
Earth . . .
He had dedicated his entire adult life to defending her, and now the long battle was over. And despite Melek's fears of another alien empire beyond the Kilrathi sphere threatening future wars, Blair knew his own days as a warrior were over. After a well-deserved period of leave, he was slated to go on the inactive list so that he could begin a new career, serving with the diplomatic staff that would soon begin work turning the abstract peace treaty with the Empire into solid, working reality. Henceforth Christopher Blair would be a warrior in the cause of peace, fighting a new kind of battle to ensure that all of his fallen comrades — Angel and Flint, Vaquero, and Hunter and Iceman, Cobra and Flash and all the rest, even Hobbes — had not died in vain.
It was a daunting challenge, but Blair would not be facing it alone.
She hurried down the aisle as the seatbelt warnings flashed on the forward bulkhead. Blair met her eyes, and they shared a smile.
'What would you like to do first, after we're down?' he asked, strapping her in.
Rachel Coriolis took his hand in hers. 'I'd like to take a long walk along the seashore,' she said, 'with wet sand between my toes . . . and no bulkheads or metal decks or spare parts in sight.'
'Sounds good to me, Blair told her, settling into his seat and closing his eyes. The others were all still there, in his mind, but no longer demanding or clamoring. They — and he — had finally discovered peace.
1995
