"You just stay here," he whispered when she finished. "I've got work to do. Then we can go away." He rose, went to the comm panel, found a frequency which worked, and resumed command of the Legion.
Fifty-Nine: 3032 AD
In the deep black gulf great engines throbbed. A ship more vast than many planet-bound cities began to move. Her commander ordered maximum tolerable acceleration. She had fallen months behind her sisters.
Clouds of smaller vessels gathered to her. They had finished their part in the Shadowline War. There were no more debts to pay.
The Starfisher decision-makers were saddened because the results had not been more positive. But history, like everything else, is seldom fair. The balance had been rectified, and that was enough.
The great ship fled ever farther into the deep.
Sixty: 3052 AD
Who am I? What am I?
I am the bastard child of the Shadowline. That jagged rift of sun-broiled stone was my third parent. Understand what happened there and you understand me. Stir that hard, infertile soil and you expose the roots of my hatreds.
The Shadowline and four men. Gneaus Julius Storm. Thaddeus Immanuel Walters. Michael Dee. Norbon w'Deeth. Stand me trial for what I am and you had better indict them too.
And that, my friend, is fact.
—Masato Igarashi Storm
Epilogue—HANGED MAN
The Hanged Man represents sacrifice or ordeal. Afterward, though, he may feel his card is really The Fool.
Epilogue: 3052 AD
"That's it?" McClennon asked. Captain McClennon now. Midshipmen Storm and McClennon crewed the winning sunjammer in that long-ago Regatta.
Captain Masato Storm, Confederation Navy (Intelligence), replied, "You asked about the Shadowline and why I hate Sangaree. I told you." The ghosts of earlier days haunted his eyes as he studied the night sky thirty degrees off galactic center. There, in a few thousand years, if anyone were around to see from this vantage point, a bright new star would bloom.
McClennon freshened his drink. "Want to finish this game before Jupp gets here?" He moved to the chess table. Their game had been deadlocked for hours.
"I suppose." Mouse kept staring at the sky. "I can't believe it, I know it happened, but I still can't believe it."
Seldom had McClennon seen Mouse so disconnected. "Cassius and Dee dying might look like the end of it to you. Because they were the last principals. But you weren't really talking about the Legion. Or the Shadowline War. You were explaining the survivors. Especially Mouse."
"Maybe. You're right. Okay. We had to round up Michael's men and defuse those bombs and get our people out of the Shadowline. We did it, with the help from Darkside Landing and The City of Night... Wait a minute. What do you mean, explaining the survivors?"
"Seemed to me you were really explaining Masato Storm."
Mouse's gaze shifted to a section of sky where a new war raged. Humankind and its allies were locked in a ferocious struggle with a nasty enemy.
"You know, my uncle really blew it. He could've gotten away if he'd kept his cool."
"How so?"
"He always had that one more trick up his sleeve. The last one surprised everybody. We never had a hint till we found out we had to storm Edgeward."
"What do you mean?" McClennon asked, just trying to keep Mouse talking. He had worked for the commission investigating the Shadowline war. He knew most of the answers. But his friend needed herding out of the depth-less morass of depression.
"That trick of Michael's. He had some minority board members in his pocket. They pulled a coup. It wasn't hard to change their minds, but Michael could've changed his face and disappeared in the confusion."
"Then the commission descended on you."
"Like vultures. Lucky for me, my father, Cassius, and Richard had heavy drag in Luna Command. They didn't hurt us too bad. The holding corporation is still in business."
"What about the girl?"
"Polly? She went back to the Modelmog. Found out she couldn't stand the Shakespeare thing anymore. Changed her name again and went into holodrama. You'd recognize her if you saw her. She's completely different now. Getting something you want bad does that, I guess."
"And the Sangaree? Deeth?"
"Who knows?" Storm left the window long enough to fix himself a drink. "Maybe he died at Helga's World. Maybe during the Fortress attack. Maybe during the chase afterward. Or maybe he got away. Sometimes I think he did."
McClennon finally selected a move. He offered a pawn trade. "Your move. Why's that?"
"The Sangaree fleet the Starfishers engaged at Stars' End. That wasn't just a Family raidfleet. A dozen Families must have gone in on the operation. Which should have meant chaos in the fleet's command structure. But they were damned near as efficient as any human fleet."
"So?"
"So Deeth had a thing about organization and discipline. And he had the willpower and stubbornness and sheer insane vendetta spirit to put a thing like that together. I'm not saying it was him the Fishers fought. I'm just saying that fleet had his feel."
"Then you think you're going around the circle again? That now it's their turn to get revenge?"
"Maybe. There's plenty of them left. If they could find a way to mate off Homeworld... "
"They've always had that, Mouse. Your move." Mouse accepted the pawn trade. "Your uncle Michael was conceived on Prefactlas. And he was no mule. They just need to overcome their prejudices."
Mouse dropped his drink. "Breeding slaves. Why didn't I think of that? I wonder if Beckhart knows?"
"He knows everything. That's his job. Drop him a reminder anyway, if it'll make you feel better."
Mouse snickered wickedly. "For a minute I thought I was unemployed."
"For a while I'd hoped you'd quit. What now?"
"Polly is going to be here next week. Some kind of tour. She's got our kid with her. Maybe we'll skip over to the Fortress and see my brothers."
"You said... "
"He didn't destroy it. He just killed everybody. Ben and Homer live there now. Couple of crazy old hermits. They keep the family business rolling. When's Jupp going to get here?"
"Tonight, I hope. What do you think? Should I accept that offer from Ubichi?"
"Resign? Beckhart wouldn't let you. There's a war on, you know."
"Suppose he did?"
"Then walk carefully. Luna Command is watching them. The merc forces are gone. Now they're looking for excuses to break up the company police forces."
"At least the companies are run by honest crooks, not sanctimonious bandits like Admiral Beckhart."
Mouse looked angry. He growled, "We'd better let the game slide. Call me if Jupp turns up." He stalked out of the room.
McClennon turned to stare at the night sky. Mouse conspired in the destruction of an entire Sangaree star system? That was a lot of revenge.
Norbon w'Deeth, are you out there somewhere? Are you polishing your guns, getting ready to come to town? Will the cycle continue round, and never mind the greater, more desperate struggle down toward the galactic core?
"Hate is the worst poison," McClennon muttered. "Mouse, your father was right when he told you to go back to Academy. You should have listened."