The General spun around and slammed his fist on the desk. “I’ve had enough of this! I know what’s best for my son and I’m saying that he goes. This is my command Arez, do I need to remind you of that?”
“No sir, of course not, I just want to make sure you have thought this through and that we have considered all the angles. It’s my job as the Mission Chief to hone the deadly edge on the war sword your plan represents, is it not?” Arez smiled slightly, pleased with his analogy, hoping this image would disarm the General’s anger. “That means finding and grinding away all the burrs and this situation doesn’t feel…smooth.”
“Point taken, Arez. But are you seeking to sharpen the blade or keep it hidden in its sheath?”
Arez frowned and his shoulders tensed, “I only seek the best possible plan, sir, and that includes the evaluation of all personnel assignments as you are well aware.”
“Yes Arez, I am aware, and you are very good at it. The best. So please relax, I meant no offense. This is a very difficult decision for me as I am sure you can understand. Please continue.”
“Excellent marks in war games, near the top of his class, but questions remain about his decisiveness and temperament. Would he not benefit from additional seasoning to reduce the risk of this being an issue in the field?”
“Do his commanders agree with this sentiment, Arez?”
“They only evaluate his readiness and document his characteristics, sir, you know that. They do not speculate on the finer points; that is for mission officers like us to decide.”
“Do you agree with the sentiment then?”
“It is worth considering, sir, given his..” Arez paused and turned, considering his word choice carefully. “His background. That is not condemnation, sir, one day those attributes may make him a better soldier, but is that day today?”
The General let out an exasperated sigh. “Because his mother is an Atula! That is what this is about? That was my choice, Arez, not his. Did you forget his father is a Musa, a Musa general? How many young officers can say that and have the chance learn from a mentor of my standing? What about my attributes?”
He would not admit it to his chief planner, but the General knew exactly what Arez was referring to. Why would he expect his son’s potential weaknesses to escape the man responsible for overseeing every detail of the mission’s success and why did it make him so angry when they didn’t? Born from a most unusual coupling, a general and an Atula, his son melded almost perfectly their two personalities. Thoughtful, sensitive, and aware as an Atula might be expected to be, he was also forceful, diligent and disciplined. He had the potential be a great leader, one whose men could sense his love and respect for them and would then follow him anywhere, fight for him with passion and conviction. But would he have the strength and especially the desire to lead? The General sometimes wondered. It was a difficult path, full of loneliness and regret, not a burden men with his son’s temperament typically handle well.
Arez stared blankly at his boss, knowing no response was expected or welcome. He decided to move on, for now. “Shall we continue inspections, sir? We’re three days out and behind schedule.”
The General rose from his desk and followed his planner down the hall toward the hanger.
“There are some troubling inconsistencies in the target’s weapons evaluation, sir. Have you seen my notes? There is no sign of Tier 1 weaponry on the satellite scan but the e-sensors in the atmosphere have recently picked up some very strong signatures. If those are guns, sir..” Arez trailed off, looking again at the numbers, almost not believing them. They were nearly off the charts.
“The e-sensors have been off before, Arez. If the guns existed, where are they? You can’t hide something with those readings. They would need an enormous power supply.”
“Yes, but maybe they have some kind of alternative power source, something we haven’t yet seen. Seems risky, sir, those levels nearly match our biggest force guns. In a few cases even exceed them – that’s unheard of.”
“There are always risks and unknowns, Arez, when you travel to a new star system and engage the population. If they had that type of energy, why wouldn’t they leverage it to power their planet? None of their factories exhibit anything other than a normal source, correct?”
“That is correct, sir. As far as we know.”
“Then I don’t think we can call off the engagement for that, do you? At this late date?”
“I suppose not, sir. But those readings…”Arez trailed off again, seeing if the General would pick up the thread of concern he was trying to draw him towards. The General didn’t though, he was too focused on his son, that was clear enough. It was a classic warning sign for the planner, to have the commander distracted by a family matter at this stage was never a positive sign. When that family member was part of the crew, it was even worse. Arez focused on that in an attempt to reengage the General.
“I see the officer assignments are nearly complete and signed off…have you made a final decision on your son’s command then?”
“1st commander of the 10th attack squad sounds about right, I think.”
“With respect, sir but are you sure? For a 1st mission? That is an ambitious assignment.”
“Really, Arez? I know better than that. It’s entirely consistent for someone of his ranking and war games scores, is it not?”
“I suppose, sir, a little aggressive perhaps, given his temperament. Would it be the worst insult in the world to ease him in though, perhaps show the rest of the command there is no favoritism?
The General paused to consider his planner’s comment, trying to determine the subtext in his tone. Was Arez raising this issue on his own behalf or were there concerns coming out of the senior ranks he was trying to warn him about. Could he simply be working all angles as a good planner should? The General wanted to be fair to his son, give him what he had earned and deserved but could he be pushing too hard as Arez suggested? Maybe a bit, but if he was, he felt he had no choice and that part of the decision was best kept to himself. He needed his son committed to the military, fully engaged to avoid a sideways drift into another path. Perhaps the path of his mother, a Wander who had left her world behind to join another kiln, his kiln.
The reports during his son’s years at Mix school swirled around his head, the associations with the other artists, his mother’s people. He claimed it was over a girl, quickly defensive, and it all seemed innocent enough. Jehz had every right to do that. God hadn’t he done that, met the most important person in his life that exact way? He had of course but he’d also been focused on the Musa culture in a way Jehz never was. Jehz’s training was strong, though, always strong and he never gave the General a reason to doubt him.
But the doubt was there nonetheless, there was no denying it. Nagging at him, threatening to tear his carefully laid plans apart though they were his dreams, ones Jehz may not share, should not need to share though he desperately wanted him to. Still the doubts persisted, despite the lack of any real evidence or justification. Because of what his mother did? Even if the worst did come to pass and he became a Wander, was that really something to be so scared of? The Wanders who left the military were made fun of, of course, but mostly in a lighthearted way, never with any serious malice – and the Wanders who came were always welcome, especially the women and those who came to fight. So why worry? Because there was always a kind of a divide between the Wander and both his new and old kilns, a distance. Because Jehz was his son, a general’s son, and he always dreamed of having his son by his side in an officer’s uniform. It was supposed to happen, and the thought it might not filled him with dread and a sense of failure. It somehow reflected badly on him as a father, and a leader. Had there ever been a Council head whose son was a Wander? He thought not.
“1st commander of the 10th, Arez”, the General said with a tone that made it clear this line on conversation was over.
Arez nodded looking over the General’s shoulder, “Are you ready to inspect the battle carrier, sir?” The General turned and glanced at the Seaz Morta, aware now of how distracted he must be by the concern over his son to not be aware of where he was. He always loved approaching the Morta, watching closely as the ship grew to almost impossibly large size, its iridescent purple black skin catching and casting light in explosive patterns across the surface of her hull. How beautiful she was, and how powerful, nearly bursting with destructive energy. Holding a crew of 100,000 soldiers, a fleet of 10,000 Telz fighters and armed with massive force guns she was capable of defeating single-handedly the collective armies of most planets in the Mother galaxy. Adding her full complement of support ships turned her into a force without peer. No world known to the Given could resist her and even the most ambitious rarely contemplated the thought with any seriousness once they’d had a taste of her power.
The General walked aboard, barely noticing the furtive glances of the soldiers and maintenance workers as they scrambled to finish their preparation. The General had commanded the Morta for a decade and during that time added fifty planets to the ranks of the protected. His command had been filled with the typical mix of challenge, conquest, and tribulation but the Morta had been a constant, pulling him forward and powering his rise in the military establishment. One day the Morta might even deliver him to the very top of the Council and he dreamed that the day he relinquished his command, he would place it in the hands of his son. It was a future he desperately strove for, a future that would begin with this mission, set to launch in a few days. It was a future he had planned for a long, long time, one that stretched all the way back to his days at Mix school.
He’d been an extremely serious student, not much interested in the social functions that were a critical part of life there for so many. How could he waste his time with childish play when there was so much military history, tactics, and engineering to study? He didn’t feel jealous of the days his classmates spent with the other kilns, learning about their lives and cultures, comparing the beauty of their women and men. Avoiding it would give him an advantage he thought. Why bother getting too involved when it would all be over in a few years and he would settle back into life in the military kiln with his competitors that much more behind him because of their frivolity. To fend off the inevitable criticism from his advisors that he was not properly participating in the Mix tradition, he had made some casual friends from other kilns in his military classes. They had spent some enjoyable time together during shared study sessions and he felt that was enough. He struggled to understand why it mattered so much to everyone but knew if he did not at least pretend to comply it would hurt his class ranking.
For the first couple years, his strategy worked. He was able to keep his focus squarely on his studies and his advisor could go no further than glance at him disapprovingly and suggest some additional energy be expended when his social life was discussed. The days and other students streamed by the window of his room as he sat steadily and quietly appearing almost permanently attached to his desk, barely noticing and not caring. One night, however, after pressing him for days, his roommate convinced him to attend a student production of The Awakening. “It has battles, so it’s military history,” he grinned at the General, “you can’t say no. Besides my advisor mentioned I should ask you to go and I would hate to have to tell them you tried some lame excuse on me to get out of it. Wouldn’t look at all good on your perfect record, Mr. General”. The General knew of course there were no military battles as it was, of course, the legendary story of the Given’s struggle for freedom when they were a slave people and didn’t yet even have an army. But it turned out he was tired of both the studying and the nagging so he agreed to go. Maybe he would even run into his advisor there and use that encounter to shut down the awkward conversations about his social life for a few months.
Entering the theatre, he was startled by the energy of students, jostling to greet their friends, talking loudly, very different from the more solemn tone of his classrooms. Classrooms admittedly mostly full of serious-minded military kiln much like himself. The clothes and hair, especially among the artists, were wild, like nothing he had ever seen. He had passed small groups of Atula on campus, but, by tradition, their daytime dress and presence was much more subdued. He realized as he took it in that this was their world, a place where their inner selves and training were allowed to blossom and take shape, this was their battlefield. It was oddly fascinating. He stared openly and curiously at a group of Atula girls that quickly brushed past him to grab seats near the front of the stage. He half wandered after them until his roommate grabbed his arm and pulled him down a row. They settled into their seats just as the house lights went down and curtain rose.
In the opening scene, a group of enslaved Given women were celebrating a birthday in a small dingy hall, some singing traditional songs and dancing despite the depressing surroundings. His eyes quickly locked on a young actress playing a small role as a Given attending the festivities. As she danced, he watched her with a childlike fascination. Her body language and movement seemed so free and uninhibited, so different from the control and discipline that had dominated his upbringing. As the action moved towards her, she turned and seemed to be looking directly at him as she recited her lines. Intrigued and looking for confirmation of what he thought she had done, he watched intently, his heart racing. Would she do it again? But the rest of the scene passed without the slave girl speaking.
He spent the remainder of the play searching for her in the background, ignoring the rest of the action, trying to guess where he might see her next. If only he had spent more time paying attention when the play had been taught in school. Maybe then he could guess when she might reappear. As the production ended and the actors took their bows, he leaned over to his roommate, his program opened to the page listing the bit parts. “Who is that girl there, third from the left? Do you know?”
His roommate turned to look at him, eyebrows raised “So the monk has a heart after all, eh?” Pausing for effect, he scanned the General’s face for a reaction, trying to think of clever ways to tease him over his interest. When he saw the pleading look in the General’s eyes, he was so surprised he couldn’t go through with it. “I’m not sure. I think her name is Daez. Atula for sure, same year as us. You find her beautiful?” Not waiting for a response, he continued on, “I know where there is going to be an after-party and a lot of the cast is supposed to be there. Why don’t we go and see if we can find your slave princess? What do you say, General?”
The General had nearly jumped at the chance but quickly caught himself before he agreed. What would he do at a party full of Atula? He’d never been to an event like that before, wouldn’t know how to behave or talk to the girl in the play even if he saw her.
But he went anyway, pulled forward by the emotion and excitement of the evening. He knew he had to at least try and meet her, that for the first time he felt a tinge of regret at the shape of his social life. He was intrigued and challenged by the culture and energy of another kiln, something he never thought would be possible. In his head, he could hear the teasing voice of his roommate, “A beautiful girl will do that for you every time, General.” Somehow he knew there was more to it than that though. Daez was the key but there was something here for him, something he never really knew he needed. Of course, he also thought about the story he would be able to tell his advisor, it would earn him some breathing room for sure.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Walking in, feeling the strange eyes upon him, it was as awkward as he expected it would be. His roommate stayed around for a while then drifted off nodding his head in Daez’s direction when a group of girls breezed by shouting greetings. He stood alone for some time, watching, unable to shake the feeling that he had been missing something after all but not knowing what he could do to fix it. Frustrated and angry with himself, he turned to leave, but Daez was standing in front of him, smiling. She stepped forward to introduce herself, immediately putting him at ease with her grace and gentle manner. He typically didn’t have an easy time making small talk, but he tried to rally his inner reserve. Don’t let this opportunity go he told himself or you know you’ll regret it.
“Hey, you were at the play tonight weren’t you? Fifteenth row, just left of center stage. Right in front of my parents, that’s how I know.”
“Yes, that was me, I guess. I really enjoyed the play, you were very good.” He was terrified, but tried to find the courage to show her the friendliest, most relaxed version of himself he could manage. A quick-to-smile, easily laughing version that barely existed and hadn’t been seen in years.
“Oh hardly, I barely had any lines, but sweet of you to say. You didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself very much. You looked like a theatre critic out there, studying every move disapprovingly.”
“Well, I don’t get out much, never even been to a play, so you know, just trying to take you all in. I mean the play, take it all in, sorry.” He looked down at his drink, silently cursing his misstep.
Daez looked amused and stared at him, trying to determine if he was flirting with her or was as awkward as he appeared. It wasn’t until much later that she realized it was both.
“What’s your name, Mr. Critic? I don’t recall seeing you around before.”
“Forenz. Forenz Alta, but my friends call me, it’s a little embarrassing, but they call me General.
“Do they now?” She tried not to laugh, didn’t want to make him feel more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be, but she couldn’t help herself. “I’m sorry, but that is funny. Please don’t be offended, it just caught me off guard a little.”
“Don’t worry about it, I realize how silly it is. It’s just a nickname given to me by my mother long ago that somehow stuck. Feel free to call me Gen. Can I get you a drink, Daez?”
“Is that an order, General?” She smiled, looked at him through narrowed eyes, wondering now if she were the one doing the flirting or just returning the favor. He turned to her, trying to gauge the tone of her comment and she quickly recognized his confusion. She thought it charming and unspoiled he didn’t immediately recognize the banter for what it was. How different from the Atula men she knew who would trade wit for intelligence and hide any insecurity beneath layers of bluster. While she had half an idea to let the moment pass unexplained, she liked Gen and didn’t want a chance of hurt feelings so she quickly added. “Sorry again, I just couldn’t resist. That’s the last time I promise, Gen.”
The General returned with their drinks and the unlikely pair hit it off quickly, spending the night talking on a balcony just outside of where the main party was going on. He was surprised at her intelligence and how grounded she seemed, not at all like the flighty actress type he expected her to be. Artists are all crazy and vain he had been told, valuable to the Balance, but suitable only as entertainment for the other kiln. Many of the women were beautiful and exotic but their psyches were delicate and thin as hand blown glass and they could never be counted on to be serious company for a military officer. This one seemed different though, lively, fascinating, but real. She even impressed him with some military history, though later he learned she had simply recited a few names and stories she had recently picked up from a history class. In the end that didn’t matter as much as the fact that an Atula would even take the time to learn the names of those military legends was impressive to him, a sign of her depth.
As the evening drew to a close, he got up the nerve to ask her to see her again for a date and she quickly agreed. She found his seriousness and strength intriguing and powerful, quite unlike anyone she had ever met before. One date turned into another and they began seeing each other steadily. As the months rolled past, their relationship began to blossom and strengthen and he started to think often about a Given word he had never much considered before – Wander. Wanders were those who had left their kiln, often shutting the door forever on their families and former lives. Motivated by love or the need to escape, they were looked on as curiosities by most, serving primarily as sources of news and gossip about life in the other kilns. They were not allowed to seek positions of political significance and rarely excelled professionally due to forms of discrimination both unconscious and explicit. Wanders were also kept at arm’s length socially by most Given. Tolerated but not embraced, they were the tattered edge of Given society fabric and culture, the untidy corner of an otherwise pristine house. The priests made regular calls for equality and acceptance, citing how critical Wanders were to the Balance, but for most is seemed like mere platitudes.
Could he possibly ever ask that sacrifice of Daez? Would he make that sacrifice for her? He couldn’t imagine what kind of life he could make for himself in the artist kiln. His was a literal, orderly mind that had never applied itself well to the arts. He’d be lost there with no chance to pursue his true calling. If Daez should come over instead, then how would she feel, sitting in the audience watching an Atula performance, knowing that she would never be able to take the stage again? Would he be robbing her of the very thing that had drew him so strongly to her in the first place? In the end, he should have known that Daez, with typical clarity, would have sorted it all out in a way that made it make simple and inevitable sense.
“To the bridge, sir?”, Arez said, his slightly annoyed and inpatient tone stretched thinner by the General’s daydreaming.
“Yes, of course”, the General responded, pretending not to notice, “Do you have all the high-level system diagnostics?”
“On your screens now, sir. The General glanced at the screen floating in front of him, not having the patience or focus to study them in any productive way. He waited an appropriate amount of time to make Arez believe he could have reviewed them, confirmed the head officer’s signatures on the reports, and made a mental note to return to them later as he waved them away. This was a dangerous path he was taking, a miscalculation or oversight on a mission of this magnitude and his career would be effectively over, if he was lucky. If he wasn’t, he might lose his life as well. What would happen to his son’s future then?
He tried hard to focus as he exited the elevator, turned, and strode past the guards and onto the bridge. His senior officers were there, milling around, some having planning discussions with their staff. All snapped to attention when they noticed the General enter the room. He waved his hand, signaling them to relax as he took his seat at the head of the triangular command table. His officers quickly filled in the remaining seats.
“What have you got for me boys and girls?” the General yelled. “Another master plan or should we just fly in there guns blazing?”
The officers simply smiled dryly, tolerating the joke they’d been told many times before by the General to tease Arez. The General knew it was silly, even a little unprofessional but it seemed to ease the tension and had become a bit of a ritual so he carried on with it.
Glancing at his First Officer Serez, he nodded and Serez stood up. “Just a quick review to start. The planet targeted in this mission is a class 4 alpha giant the homelanders call Castone - code name Rising Sun. He pressed a button on the table and a holographic map sprung up in front each of the officers. “Interesting topography, 50% water, 18 major mountain ranges, some with peaks rising 25 miles so the pilots need to be very careful here. Highly volcanic with hundreds of active volcanoes. Tech rating is T-Minus-200 so they would appear to have very little advanced weaponry that we know of. There have been high power readings though here, here, and here,” Serez pointed near the peaks of some of the taller mountains. “Very high. But we don’t know if they are being generated by the residents or if they are a natural phenomenon of some type. Culture is medio-religious with a naturalistic focus on a volcano deity. Predictable given all the activity here. Look at these images – this place is like a gigantic backyard barbeque.” The pictures spun by, most showing a barren landscape, baked by rivers of fire. Some however showed incredibly dense jungle, filled with exotic trees and flowers, thriving in the older rich volcanic soil. “The main city, X85, is located here, well away from the worst thermal activity – we don’t know if that is the capitol or not. There is no sign of government activity that we recognize.”
“If necessary, the first battle line will land about fifty marks southeast of X85 with the second line five marks east of that. Using a scissor attack, we will penetrate the known defenses here and here and X85 should fall within hours. Final details will be synced to all official Planex devices active for this mission within the hour. Any questions so far?”
There was a standard discussion about expected weather conditions and angles of attack, but the plan was routine and concerns quickly exhausted. The General and his fellow senior officers had executed these missions dozens of times with rarely a hitch. As his staff wrapped up the meeting, the General’s mind wandered to the diplomatic staff assigned to the mission and he glanced at his screens to find the names. The diplomat’s job was to transition the homelanders to the Given’s governmental structure after the mission had completed. It was a delicate task, one that could strongly affect the trajectory of the future relationship. Too strong a hand and an entrenched rebel culture or terrorist force could emerge. Too weak and the control defined by the initial visit was quickly dissipated. Either extreme could result in a return clean-up that would put additional men and women at risk. The General was relieved to see Mriz Salta was the diplomatic lead. His team was solid with a strong reputation as a firm but fair hand in these matters. So it seemed the mission was under control, with little risk from some of the usual variables though he was sure Arez would have something to say about that when they met to compare notes later.
As he tried to focus on the stack of mind-numbing ready reports, the General’s mind drifted back to his final days at Mix school. He had been two years in before he had met Daez, and as fast as the first two years had flown by, the final two had been an absolute blur. At the top of his class, he had responsibility over the student officer corp as well as an extremely demanding academic load. Trying to find time for Daez was difficult but, much to his commanding officer’s dismay, it was his top priority. Far from being a drag on his military focus and resolve, his time with her energized him and provided him a new spirit with which to attack his responsibilities. Time itself was another matter though and he rushed from one world to another, barely making the appointments, classes, meetings, dates, dinners, and secret rendezvous that filled his days. Through it all, he never doubted for a second which world he belonged in and wondered if Daez felt the same. They almost never talked about the graduation they both were keenly aware was coming, both knowing that it would probably be the start of a new reality, one where they would share no part of their lives with their beloved. The General sensed they were both scared to ask the other’s intention for fear of coloring their final months and days together with despair.
This couldn’t really be the end though, could it, given how strong their relationship had become? Shouldn’t they try to make things work after returning to their kilns? The Celebrations would be there, times when the kilns mixed as freely as the wine and spirits flowed. But those days were short and spaced too far apart for any relationship to withstand. Perhaps the travel freedoms that Atula were allowed would supplement that, though in the end, he knew that too was a false hope. The requirements of a military career could never be synced to that sort of schedule. In the back of his mind, he had always known what he would do in the end, ask her, beg her to become a Wander and build a life with him in the Musa kiln. He didn’t know when, but he knew he had better find the time soon.
It was three weeks before graduation and he was laying on a couch in Daez’s apartment, his head in her lap, both reading for final exams. “Daez, what do you think you’ll do after graduation.” He cringed as he said it, knowing it was an awkward question considering the obvious reality hanging over their relationship and didn’t come close to expressing what he really wanted to say.
“You mean what will I do after the ceremony? I thought maybe you might want to take me to the ball. Is it after all sponsored by your Musa brethren this year, is it not? Do you not want to go?”
“No, I do, of course I do. I meant after graduation.”
“Oh” Daez smiled knowingly, “After graduation. Well, I’ve arranged for my roommate to be away for the weekend at her girlfriend’s – I thought I told you that. Anyway, I figured we’d start by maybe coming back here and having a nightcap. Alderean whiskey maybe, I know that’s one of your favorites, and a light snack if you’re still hungry. Then after a little time relaxing, I thought maybe I would take off your tie and then slowly start unbuttoning your shirt, kind of like this.” She put her hand on his neck and slipped it underneath his collar, caressing his chest. “After that maybe you might reach around and undo the zipper on my dress, though you really could start with the straps I suppose. Your choice, my love, I know how you military types don’t like being ordered around.”
The General smiled at the thought but was frustrated at his inability to find the words to address the situation head on. “No, I mean yes, that sounds fine of course, more than fine, but after the weekend is over?” He wanted to tell her everything he was thinking, how deeply he loved her, how much he wanted her to join him in the military kiln, how he would honor her sacrifice, and do everything to make her happy, but somehow he just couldn’t say the words, didn’t know where to start, or if he deserved to even ask that of her. Especially when he knew if she asked him the same question, he would have to say no. It would break his heart, and maybe hers too but he knew that he would say it anyway. He hoped she wouldn’t ask and he wouldn’t have to.
The General looked up intently at her but she had turned her head and stared off out the window, a faint crease of a smile in the corner of her mouth. “Well, yes, there’s a lot to be done isn’t there. Just loads of packing and we only have a couple days to get out of here if I remember. Oh, and you were going to fix that hole behind the couch where that drunk Atula boy kicked it in, don’t forget about that – I do not want to lose my deposit over that. My God, remember how mad you were the night he did that, the way he was flirting with me, it just drove you crazy. You were so sweet. But he was just drunk, and you were such a gentleman not just destroy him after the swing he took at you. I mean with your training and fitness and all, I imagine that would have been very unpleasant for him. He was very skinny, and you..”
“Yes, I remember, I’ll take care of that and sorry for interrupting but I mean after that? You know?”
“Well, after that. Let me see”, Daez continued to stare off into space for a long minute, her mouth now almost breaking into a grin. She put her hand through his hair absentmindedly, finally turning to look directly at him “After that, I thought maybe there might be a place near Fort Jejez available, that is where your first commission is, isn’t it? After we decide on one, well there’s a lot of work required to get a place like that ready to live in, especially the ones I saw that we could afford. I mean you might not realize that, I’ve seen your room after all, but it really does.”
The General felt a wave of relief wash over him, and then panic. Was he hearing what he thought he was hearing? Did Daez say that she was coming to Fort Jejez, to be with him? Just like that?
“So we’ll be.. together..after graduation?” The words were still not coming easily and the pressure on his chest now was nearly too much to bear.
“Well, yes, we’ll still be together after graduation. You don’t think I am planning to live on Fort Jejez by myself do you? Not that would be legal anyway, I don’t think. Since there’s probably no permanent theatre company there or anything like that, so yes, together. After graduation.”
She stared into his eyes now, intense and serious, with no trace of her smile still showing, “That is what you want isn’t it? Because you’ve sure been acting like that is what you want, and this is a big step, the biggest. So if this is not what you want, you better be honest with me right now, or..”
“Of course it is what I want, Daez, what I wanted for a long time. You know that. I just couldn’t think of the best way to talk to you about it. Things were going so well between us and it is such a big decision, for both of us but especially for you. You must have known or why else would you have brought it up this way?.”
“I wondered sometimes if maybe I just wanted it to be true, you’re never completely sure about something like this, are you? But yes, I knew. For a man who doesn’t say very much, you are awfully bad at keeping things to yourself. Still might be nice to be asked though.” The smile had returned to her face.
Finally, the words came to him, “Daez, my love, would you do me the honor of returning to Millez with me, to be my partner, to share my life, to build our dreams together? There’s nothing in the world that would make me happier and I can’t imagine a future with you not in it. A future worth living anyway.”
As their lips met, the General felt a joy and sense of accomplishment greater than he had ever felt before. She was his and now nothing could stand in their way.
The General felt the eyes upon him and glanced over his shoulder at Arez.
“Tomorrow at seven then, sir, for the final fleet inspection?”
“Yes, of course, Arez, that’s fine. I’ll meet you at docking door #9”. The General rose and moved toward the door, oblivious to the salutes, but answering their calls of “Tola Capi”, calls that marked their brotherhood in the mission to come. A mission that would be his son’s first, another step toward the dream life he began living with Deaz so many years ago.