The rest of her still ached from fighting Victor. The power of his attacks had sapped her strength, while the speed of his defense left him all but invulnerable to her attacks, despite her years of practice. She cursed the luck that put her in a fight with a man who knew the variblade better than she did.
No, the really bad luck was that he had recognized her variblade.
She remembered what her father had said, that the variblade was a war prize, presumably taken from a Savannan the day…the day he killed them all.
Except he didn’t kill them all, Lysandra realized. If the variblade had originally belonged to Victor, then he was a Savannan who had survived the destruction of his world.
“Oh, Providence!” Lysandra’s hand moved to cover her mouth but stopped when a shock of pain ran through it. “Ow!”
“Are you injured, Princess?” asked a man with a deep, gentle voice.
Lysandra looked up to see an unnaturally tall man on the other side of the bars.
A starchild!
she realized. “Who are you?” she asked.
The starchild bowed his long head. “I am Cormac, Princess. I serve as the
Alexander
’s engineer. Among other things.”
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“‘Among other things’ includes being the ship’s medic,” Cormac said. He nodded toward her hand. “You appear to be injured. I could treat you.”
Her hand throbbed, as if to remind her. “All right,” she said. “I think it’s broken.”
The starchild opened the bars and walked inside with a large pack. He set it down on top of the opposite cot and opened it up. The first thing he pulled out was a handheld device.
He looked to her and outstretched his free hand. “May I see your hand, Princess?”
Lysandra nodded and did as requested.
Tenderly the starchild examined her hand. “Yes, there is likely a fracture.” He ran the device over her hand and checked the screen. “Ah, your second, third, and fourth metacarpal bones are fractured.” He turned the device around to let her see the screen.
Cracks ran through the middle of the bones of her hand. She felt queasy at the sight and looked away.
“Your injury is not severe,” said the starchild, as if to comfort her. “It will be easy to repair.” He turned around to pull more items from his pack.
He looked so thin, Lysandra thought. And she couldn’t help but notice the door to her cell was open. Even with her injured hand, she could maybe overpower him and—
“I am stronger than I look,” the starchild said, turning around with an injector clutched in his long fingers. “And attempting to fight your way off this ship will only serve to exacerbate your injuries.”
“How did you know?” Lysandra asked.
The starchild smiled. “I simply assumed what you were thinking when I turned my back to you, Princess.”
“I see,” Lysandra said. She didn’t like being so predictable. Escaping now would be pointless, as the starchild had pointed out. Even if her hand wasn’t injured, she could not fight the entire crew. Not when she couldn’t even fight one of them.
“This will numb the pain,” the starchild said.
Lysandra let him place the tip of the injector against her forearm. She heard a hiss and felt a sting and then her hand went numb. She couldn’t help but sigh in relief as the pain subsided.
The starchild placed her injured hand in a splint that ran from her forearm to the tips of her fingers. He then used another injector on her.
“There,” he said, packing his things. “That will accelerate the healing. Your hand should be fully healed inside one week.
Lysandra looked at her splinted hand. “You did a fine job,…Cormac.”
“This is not the first time I have treated a fracture,” Cormac said.
“Still, thank you. You’re very kind,” Lysandra said.
Cormac nodded and picked up his pack to leave.
“Your captain,” Lysandra said, “he’s from Savannah, isn’t he?”
Cormac paused at the hatch and turned around. “I think…you should discuss that with him.”
“Then may I speak with him?” she asked.
“I will tell him that you wish to talk,” Cormac said. He left the cell and closed the door.
***
The variblade, blade retracted, rested on the deck of the
Daisy Mae
’s galley. It looked exactly like it did the day his father gave it to him. The metal gleamed like polished silver, and the synthetic grip was as black as empty space.
The familiar sight conjured up memories of a mansion near a lake, a wife who loved him, and a son who barely knew him.
Victor closed his eyes to block the tears threatening to escape. It looked like, even after five years, he still had tears to shed for the world and family he lost.
He waited for the wave of melancholy to pass and then dried his eyes with the back of his left hand; his artificial hand wasn’t much good for that.
Returning his attention to the last relic of his past, Victor crouched down to pick it up. A sudden apprehension stopped him, his artificial fingers hovering centimeters over the variblade. The black grip matched the black composite of the hand.
If the sight of his family’s variblade could conjure up memories of home, what would the feel of it in his hand do?
One way to find out
, he thought. He grabbed the variblade and stood. It felt completely unfamiliar.
Victor was mortified. The texture of the grip felt wrong, as did the weight. Just a little too light. Did the captive princess modify it somehow?
Then Victor’s gaze slid off the variblade and onto the hand clutching it. It wasn’t that the variblade was different. It was him.
His arm fell limp to his side as the grim realization sapped him of his strength. The feeling of the variblade didn’t remind him of home. It was much worse than that. It reminded Victor of the man who he used to be.
“Captain?”
Victor whirled around like a surprised cat, causing Cormac to backpedal a step.
“Cormac!” Victor sighed. “You startled me.”
“I think that is the only time I have ever done so,” Cormac said. “Is everything all right, Captain?”
“What? No, I…” He looked down at his family’s variblade. “I was just distracted.”
“I see.” Cormac looked incredulous.
“Well, the prize crew is ready to follow us back to Mustang,” Victor said. He walked toward Cormac, intent on the airlock. “We should get back aboard the
Alex
.”
Cormac turned to follow. “You may wish to stop by the brig first, Captain. The princess wishes to speak with you.”
“
Hrmmph
. No doubt to demand her release,” Victor said.
“I am not sure that is the case, Captain,” Cormac said. “She has deduced you are from Savannah.”
Victor’s pace slowed, and he looked at Cormac. “Okay, maybe I should go then. Would you return to the bridge and tell Fara to take us home?”
“I will,” the starchild said.
“Good,” Victor said. “I’ll speak with the princess right now.”
Cormac nodded.
When they reached the airlock, Cormac stayed behind to close it while Victor continued toward the brig.
He nodded to the guard posted outside the brig and then walked inside.
The princess sat on one of the cots when he walked in, her right hand wrapped in a bandage. She stood when he approached the bars. “Captain,” she said.
“Princess Lysandra,” Victor said. “Cormac tells me that you figured out where I’m from.”
She nodded, her expression sad. “You’re from Savannah.”
“That’s right,” Victor said.
“How did you survive?” she asked.
“If you knew your father at all, then you know how,” Victor said.
“He made you watch,” she said.
“Yes,” Victor said.
“I’m sorry,” the princess said.
“You’re ‘sorry’?” Victor crossed his arms, his family’s variblade still clutched in his artificial hand. “That’s an odd thing to say, considering you tried to kill me just a few hours ago.” He held up the variblade. “With this.”
“All the same, I still mean it,” Lysandra said. “I’m sorry for what my father, what my people, did to yours. The war shouldn’t have ended the way it did.”
Victor shook his head. “Contrition will not convince me to set you free.”
“I’m not trying to convince you to free me!” she said. She then took a deep breath, composing herself. “I’m apologizing, both personally and on the behalf of my people.”
“I doubt your people are all that sorry about what happened to my world,” Victor said.
“With the battlefleets devastated, the emperor dead, and the throneworld held by a usurper, if my people aren’t sorry, they will be shortly,” Lysandra said.
“No less than they deserve,” Victor said.
The princess’ jaw tightened. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
“Am I?” Victor let his arms fall to his sides and walked up to the bars. “My world was destroyed before my eyes. Everything I loved, including my wife and my five-year-old son, a little boy who never hurt anyone. Are you so presumptuous as to think that an apology from you would mean anything to me?”
Lysandra crossed her arms. “I have some experience watching people I love die before me.”
“You mean your father?” Victor shook his head. “Your father died fighting. My family was never given that chance. They had surrendered, and afterward they were destroyed by an evil man.”
“You're right,” Lysandra said. She walked up to the bars until she was half a step from them. “But that’s not what you’re so upset about. You’re just angry because you didn’t get to kill my father yourself.”
Victor grabbed a bar with his left hand and leaned forward, almost pressing his face against the bars. “You’re damned right I’m angry! I, more than anyone, deserved to kill your father! But he took the easy way out, leaving me—”
“With just me,” Lysandra said. “So does that mean you’ll kill me?” The princess opened up her arms. “Well, here I am.”
Victor pushed off the bars and took a step back. “A part of me wants to kill you. I suspect it comes from the same dark place that inspired your father to raze my world. But, as much as I wanted to kill him, I won’t become him. You won’t die by my hand.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” The princess’ arms fell to her sides. “My apology still stands, even if you won’t accept it.”
“Just because I’m not killing you does not mean I’m doing you any favors, Princess,” Victor said. “As soon as we return to the Free Worlds, I’m handing you over to the Alliance. You’ll be someone else’s problem after that.”
Victor turned to leave.
“So what will happen to Lena and her crew?”
He stopped and turned around. “Right now, they get to cool their heels in my cargo hold. If they behave themselves, then I’ll let them go.”
“I’d like to talk to Lena,” Lysandra said.
Victor shook his head. “Not going to happen, Princess.”
Chapter 28
“I meant what I said, you know,” said Victor.
“What?” Fara asked, pushing herself off Victor’s chest.
“About making you captain,” Victor said.
“If you’re still trying to pass off your responsibilities to me, I’ll slap you again.”
“No, not like that,” Victor said. “I think after we return to Mustang, after everything is finished, I’m retiring.”
Fara sat up. “You’re cashing out and giving me the ship?”
“That was my thought, yes,” Victor said.
She lay a gentle hand on his chest. “I’m surprised you’re not asking me to join you.”
“I didn’t mean—”
Fara planted a finger on his lips to stop him. “I understand. This thing you and I have, it’s great. But I know it’s not anything like what you had on Savannah. And to be frank, the family life is not something I really want.”
Victor smiled. “I thought not. You’d get bored if you tried to settle down.”
She chuckled. “You know me too well.” She looked around the cabin. “So this ship will be mine?”
“Once my retirement is official, yes,” Victor said.
“What do you think you’ll do in retirement?” Fara asked.
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “Buy a nice house somewhere on Mustang, out in the country probably. And then…do nothing.”
“You? Do nothing?” Fara said. “After everything you’ve done, what makes you think you can just sit around doing nothing?”
Victor shrugged. “Everything I’ve done, every effort of mine in the last five years, has been focused on one goal—to kill Emperor Magnus. Now he’s dead. There’s nothing else for me to do.”