Starfishers Volume 3: Stars End (32 page)

Read Starfishers Volume 3: Stars End Online

Authors: Glen Cook

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Science Fiction; American, #Science Fiction - General, #American Science Fiction And Fantasy, #Fiction - General

“Mother?”

“Tommy? Is it really you?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you’d been killed. When they came to the apartment . . . God. They say you were mixed up in this war business that’s got the whole world turned upside down. The spikes are everywhere. They’re grabbing people off the streets.”

“I was in it a little.” She had not changed. He hardly had a chance to get in a word of his own.

“They said you got married. Is she a nice girl?”

“It didn’t work out. But yes, she was. You would have liked her.” He checked his audience. Only the Admiral seemed to know his mother’s half of the conversation.

They did not talk long. There had been little to say since he had gone his separate way. It was enough that, for all their differences, they could show one another they still cared.

McClennon handed the comm to the Admiral when he finished. “Thank you, sir.”

“I owe you, Thomas. One mission and another, I put you through hell for four years. I won’t apologize. You’re the best. They demanded the best. But I can try to make it up a little now. I can try to show you that I didn’t take it all away . . . ” Beckhart seemed unable to say what he meant.

“Thank you, sir.”

A baffled, resigned nurse opened the door. A youth in Midshipman blacks stepped in. “Uncle Tom?”

“Horst-Johann! Jesus, boy. I hardly recognize you. You’re half a meter taller.”

Jupp von Drachau’s son joined the crowd. The boy had been closer to McClennon than his father since his parents had split. The boy was in his father’s custody, and resented him for being absent so much. Thomas did not understand the reasoning behind the feeling. The boy saw Jupp more often than him . . . He thought of his mother and reflected that children applied a special logic to that species of adult called a parent.

He lay back on the bed and surveyed the gathering. Not a big circle, he thought, but all good friends. Surprisingly good friends, considering what he had been through the past few years . . . Friends whom, most of the time, he had not known he had.

He really had been way out there, lost in the wildernesses of his mind, hadn’t he?

The universe now seemed bright and new, specially made for him. Even his starfish memories and his knowledge of the doom approaching from centerward could not take the gleam off.

Horst-Johann was first to leave, after a promise to visit again come the weekend. Then Mouse, who had to return to his own extended debriefing. Then Tanni, who had to get back for her watch aboard
Marathon.
She departed after a whispered promise that left him in no doubt that his masculinity had survived the hospital weeks.

Beckhart sat his chair silently and waited with the patience of a statue of Ramses.

A half hour after Tanni’s departure, Max announced, “We have to leave, Walter. Greta has to get back for morning muster. You be good. And try not to collect any more little blondes.”

McClennon grinned self-consciously. “You coming back?”

“For sure. I’m keeping an eye on you. You’re not sneaking off on me again . . . It’s been a long time, Walter.”

Greta blushed.

“Thanks for coming. And Greta. Thank you. Come here.” He hugged her, whispered, “I’m there when you need me.”

“I know.”

“It’s important to have somebody who needs you.”

“I know. I’ll be back Saturday.”

After the women left, Beckhart sat in silence for several minutes. McClennon finally asked, “Aren’t they going to miss you at the office?”

“I’m not as indispensable as I thought, Thomas. I come back after six months in the field and find them caught up and not a problem in sight.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I really said it before, about as well as I can. That I’m sorry I had to do what I did.”

“Sorry, but you’d do it again.”

“If something comes up. I don’t think it will. Things are damned quiet now. The war has everybody’s attention.”

“Will we be able to do anything with Stars’ End? Or what I learned from the starfish?”

“About the fish info I don’t know. It does prove there’s a hope. Stars’ End . . . Our Seiner friends have gotten it straightened out. The place is almost a high-technology weapons museum. Some of the simpler systems will be available when next we engage.”

“The gods are dead. Long live the gods,” McClennon murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“A long time ago, in another life, I promised you a vacation. I sent you to Payne’s Fleet instead. This time I’m sending you home. I’ve already sent word to Refuge to get your house ready. Take Mouse along.”

“Mouse?”

“Mouse took care of you when it got tough. It’s your turn. He’s slipping. The Sangaree are gone. That hate kept him glued together since he was a kid.”

“All right. I understand.”

A mountain of paperwork was needed to close out the mission and put the Board of Inquiry into motion. The latter would be handled entirely by deposition. Thomas rolled through it. Nothing daunted him. The Psychs seemed to have rebuilt him better than original issue. He worked like a slave, and had energy left to flit from friend to friend evenings and weekends. He reminded himself of Mouse in days gone by, when Storm had been everywhere at once, pursuing a hundred interests and projects.

Mouse was the opposite. He could not finish anything.

Then it was all done.
Marathon
took them aboard and spaced for the quiet Cygnian world called Refuge, which was home for millions of retired civil servants and senior Service personnel.

But for Tanni Lowenthal the journey might have been depressing.

Going home. His showing for the mission some money, some stamps and coins for his collections, some new and old memories, and an armistice with himself. Somehow, it did not seem enough.

But he had found his friends, the people he had thought missing so long. So why was he disappointed?

There had been one soul-scar the Psychs had not been able to heal completely.

He could not forget Amy.

They had never really finished. They had not said
the end.
They had just gone separate ways.

He liked things wrapped up neatly.

Time passed. Cygnian summer faded into autumn. Fall segued into winter. Mouse and McClennon played chess, and waited, growing closer, till Mouse revealed the whole story of his past, of the origins of his hatred for the Sangaree. Gently, McClennon kept his friend’s spirit from sliding away completely. Gently, he began to bring Mouse back.

The report of the Board of Inquiry, delayed repeatedly, drew no closer.

From Cygnus it did not seem there
was
a war. Luna Command had expanded its forces six-fold, and had begun building new weapons and ships, but otherwise Confederation seemed to be going on as before.

Tanni visited occasionally. Max and Greta kept in touch.

And yet . . .

Some nights, when the dark winter skies were terribly clear, McClennon would put aside his stamp collection, coins, or the novel he had begun writing, and would go out on the terrace. Shivering, he would stare up at stars burning palely in unearthly constellations and picture huge ships like flying iron jungles. He would think of swarms of gold dragons, and a million-year-old beast he had taught to tell a joke.

He never loved her more than he did now that she was lost forever. Mouse had told him . . . She might use his name to frighten his own child. She would not hate him now. She would understand. But there would be appearances to be maintained, and social winds with which to sail . . .

Life never worked out the way you wanted. Everyone was victimized by social equivalents of the theories of that dirty old man, Heisenberg.

The comm buzzed. McClennon answered. A moment later, he called, “Mouse, Jupp’s coming in to spend a few days.” He returned to the terrace. The ship burned down the sky, toward where the city’s lighted towers made fairy spires that soared above distant woods. McClennon pretended it was a shooting star. He made a wish. “Want to play a game while we’re waiting?”

Mouse grinned. “You’re on.”

“Stop smirking. I’m going to whip you this time, old buddy.”

And he did. He finally did.

Table of Contents

Book 3 of The Starfishers

One: 3049 AD The Main Sequence

Two: 3049 AD The Contemporary Scene

Three: 3049 AD The Main Sequence

Four: 3049 AD The Main Sequence

Five: 3049 AD The Contemporary Scene

Six: 3049 AD The Main Sequence

Seven: 3049 AD The Main Sequence