‘And then, in the hours in which all hope is lost, a light will shine in the darkness.’  Sarah had never looked at me like I was absolutely insane before, but she did when I said that.  She asked me why I’d said it—we’d finally won our peace, what I’d said didn’t make sense.  I had to tell her that I didn’t know.  It’s bothered me in all the years since.  I’ve never been able to explain it.  Maybe someday, someone will figure it out.

— From the journal of Ryland LeSarte

 

19 Decem, 5249 PD

 

“Deacon Black, you bastard!  What took you so long?”

Relief threatened to leave him shaking as Adam leaned against a nearby console.  The sound of a familiar, friendly ghost from his past was more than enough to do that.  They’d known each other on Mimir before the end of the Psychean Guard.  The last Adam had known, his old friend had been teaching at a war college on New Earth—a posh academic position that let his bloodline be quietly forgotten.

The Black family had been heroes of the Rose Foundation back in the days of Farragut and LeSarte.

“Well, you know, I had to find a ship that I liked and that was harder than I thought—you lot didn’t order much variety, did you?”  The faint sound of a proximity alarm sounded in the background of the transmission.  “We can resume this once I’m done dealing with the trouble in orbit.  Tell your fighters to stay out of our fire-lines.”

“Roger that.”  Adam glanced at one of the techs, who nodded quickly and cut in another line, one to the fighter squadrons that had disobeyed orders and stayed to fight.

“Friend/foe just came online,” Tomasi said from behind him.  “They’re broadcasting Psychean Guard.”

“They’ve got the Mission Systems ships,” Adam murmured, staring at the video feeds.  “They couldn’t be anything else.”  Not broadcasting the Guard identifiers, anyway.

He felt the brush of his wife’s thoughts against his and smiled.  Rachel must have sensed the abrupt shift from dread to relief.  We’ll make it through this one—by the skin of our teeth, but we’ll make it.

The black ships came about, swinging toward the newcomers, their attack on the surface forgotten.  Adam sucked in a deep breath as he watched Deacon’s ships continue to pour fire on the black ships, his heart beating hard against his breast.  The engines of one ship flared, then died.  Another began to run, trying to knife its way through the formation of newly-arrived ships only to meet its end in a flare of brightness after successfully running the gauntlet, the damage inflicted by broadsides too much to survive.

“And so the tide turns,” Adam murmured to himself, watching the video feeds.

Then he smiled.

•    •    •

The distant sounds of the all-clear signal roused Alana from the strange half-sleep she’d drifted into.  Ezra was still with her, still holding her as they perched on the edge of the cot in the shelter beneath his clinic.

“You were going to go find your comm,” she said in a shaky voice.  Even though he’d given her a full dose of the usual painkillers not too long before, she’d already decided it wasn’t nearly enough.  Her arm ached with every heartbeat and her head throbbed in time with her pulse, too.

I’m just falling apart in my retirement, aren’t I?

“Couldn’t figure out how to lay you down without jostling your arm funny and waking you up,” Ezra said as he released her.  “Stay here.”

“They’re sounding the all-clear,” Alana said, cradling her bad arm against her belly.  “We can go back up.”

“You’re not going to make it all the way up the stairs.”

She set her jaw, eyes narrowing.  “I will if I’ve got to.  We have to make sure they’re okay.”

Ezra apparently knew better than to ask who she was talking about.  His lips brushed her temple and he started on the hunt for his comm.  “Just stay put,” he said again.  “Let me handle this.”

“You’ll need my help.”

“Alana.”

“Ez, please.”  She bit her lip, hating herself for the lump building in her throat.  “Don’t make me wait on the sidelines.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then exhaled a sigh.  “Fine.  Wait here, I’ll go find your sling.”

“Thank  you,” she whispered, watching him turn away and head for the stairs, the blast door above.  Alana sucked in a pair of ragged breaths, trying to pretend that amputation of her arm wouldn’t have been preferable to the pain she was experiencing.

You’ve felt worse.  Deal with it.

Of course, she was lying to herself.  This was worse than anything she’d ever felt before—worse than it had been when the cyberware had gone in by a factor of ten.

Her vision swam and she wavered on the edge of the bed.  Hold it together.  You have to go up there, see what’s going on, see what’s happened.

            They’re okay.  They have to be.

“Alana.”

She startled, eyes blinking open, the lids heavy.  She hadn’t heard Ezra come back.  “Did you find it?” she whispered.

“Yeah.”  He held up the sling even as he pressed his hand against her forehead, against her cheek.  “But you’re burning up.  Lay down.”

“No, I have to—”

His fingers laced through her hair and she shivered.  His hands felt cold.  Maybe she really was spiking a fever again.  Ezra’s lips brushed her forehead and she whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Ezra,” she whispered.

“Sleep.” He eased her down against the pillow at the end of the bed and tucked a blanket over.  “I’ll make sure all of them are okay.  I promise.  Just stay here so I don’t have to worry about you, too.”

Tears welled up behind her closed eyelids.  His fingers brushed against her cheek and she leaned toward the touch, her heart aching as much as her head, as much as her arm.

“Sleep,” he said again, then pressed a pain patch against the joint between her neck and shoulder.  “I love you.”

Whatever he injected into her arm after that sent her sinking down into the soft, quiet oblivion of sleep.

She didn’t even hear him walk away.