Nova (23 page)

Soon, K’llan stopped the high–toned counterpoint she was
playing and just listened, absorbing the music as well as the flood of feelings
that seemed to be swelling within her friend. The tune itself, a melancholy–laced
sonata, seemed entirely appropriate to the emotional tide stretching from Avara
to K’llan.

A profound sense of loss and old grief intermingled with a
quiet, yet persistent note of victory and pride. The song was only made all the
more beautiful for the heartbreaking poignancy that corresponded to Avara’s
emotional discharge. As the last two minor keys sounded throughout the star and
salt–water cradled cabin, so immersed was K’llan in the Human’s music and
nya
,
she could feel the hot spring of tears tracking their path down her pale
cheeks.

Finally, as the silence seemed to stretch through the domicile
like a vast–winged bird and Captain Serros said nothing, just sat staring
forward at something that was not present, K’llan knew she had to speak. With
equal certainty, she also found that she intuitively recognized what to say.
“Avara… what was the exchange I felt between you and Commander Perez during the
debrief earlier this evening?”

At first it was if Avara had not heard the Vosaia’s words,
but Z’arr knew better and simply waited. Shaking her head as if to obtain freedom
from some invisible bond yet still not looking at K’llan, Avara replied, “The
song is called ‘Lamentation.’ It was written by Sigrun in dual commemoration of
the Kylos Raze in 3395 and the VanDorn Strike of Kylos in 3409.”

The tone with which Avara answered was so
uncharacteristically lifeless, that K’llan felt her heart ache in concern for the
Human that, despite all questions, she knew she deeply cared for. “Your
Father?”

A nod. “Yes. Countless others as well, including most of
Marcus’s family. It’s one of the reasons why he and I are so close. My brother
Bedwyr was also lost in the Raze, just like my Da. After, my Mam took Marcus
and his brother Alejandro in, adopted them as her own. And I also… I also lost Nai
Fen in the Strike, the person who had been my closest… friend since childhood.
Next to Marcus, of course.”

K’llan did not have to ask for any clarification to understand
the importance of this person, Nai Fen, to Avara. Her roiling emotions clearly
trumpeted that the two had not only been extremely close, but unlike Marcus, they
had also unmistakably been lovers as well. In all probability, for many of
Avara’s still relatively young forty–four years.

“You know,” Serros continued in that same, bleak tone.
“Today, you can hardly find any trace of the damage those two attacks caused. Tens
of thousands dead, and yet… the developed settlements have been rebuilt and
both the sea and the green have reclaimed what was theirs. But if you look
closely, delve into the rainforest, dive to the deep–sea depths, the scars are
still there, still unhealed. Still not forgotten.”

Avara finally turned her head and her brilliant eyes met
K’llan’s gaze. Smiling faintly, she offered an apologetic shrug and murmured,
“Forgive my maudlin turn; such dark thoughts are unlike me. It’s just that the
anniversary is fast approaching.”

Quietly wiping away her tears and searching for what succor
she could to offer to her Captain and much more importantly, her friend, K’llan
asked “How do you normally commemorate the date?”

K’llan was startled as a burst of Avara’s laughter sounded
forth at the question. “Well, it usually goes like this. Each year, Marcus and
I set aside the date and find someplace to light candles for those that we
lost, and raise our glasses to their memory. We then proceed to get absolutely
piss–drunk to the point where we’re lucky if we can stumble our way home. The
next day is dedicated to recovering, though depending on how you view the
matter, I’m a bit luckier than he when it comes to the recuperation. Arca Savant
and all.”

K’llan could not help but feel the corners of her mouth turn
upward at the image Serros’s word produced, even if it was bittersweet. “I can
only imagine the amount of alcohol that you must imbibe to reach such a state
of inebriation at all.”

Serros laughed a second time then moved to straddle the
piano bench so she could more squarely face the Vosaia.  “It’s a
truly
epic quantity. If we’re especially lucky, Marcus and I are planetside in a bar
or club and some group of rowdy fools try to pick a fight with one of us. I
tell you, it never seems to end well for the rowdies. Marcus especially takes
his brawling seriously.”

Even as she smiled, K’llan could feel her eyes widen at the
Captain’s words. It was hard to imagine the Shield Operative releasing her usually
tightly held self–control, yet not at all difficult to picture Avara
unabashedly smacking down bullies.

Sensing a moment to understand something of Avara that had
seemed too dangerously personal to ask before, long detained words tumbled out
of her mouth before she could even consider halting them. “Nai Fen… were the
two of you Life–Mates?”

Serros’s smile retreated a bit at the question, but other
than the expression of old sadness, she seemed comfortable as she answered.
“No, we were not married. When young, we were first childhood friends and along
with Marcus, as close as three people could be. Then as we got older and our
teenage years came, Fen and I became more.” Shifting slightly, Avara remarked,
“She was my first and I hers… and we were lovers for many years.”

“Why did you not, as the Humans term the union, marry and
become Wife and Wife? My understanding is that based on your age, it would not have
been unusual for you to do so.” K’llan asked, confused over the obvious love
Serros had held for the Human who had died, yet also sensing conflicting
feelings she could not help but to effortlessly read.

“That’s a bit complicated.” Serros answered, echoing Z’arr’s
earlier expression. Her tone was slightly bemused but also certain as she said
“I suppose, the best answer is that our life–paths were not compatible,
especially for Fen.”

At K’llan’s unconscious query, sent through the currently
heightened yet ever present emotive link that the two shared, Avara answered
“Fen was not suited for marriage to someone who was, at least to an extent,
also married to the Navy. She became an Art History Professor at Oleron
University on Pax. We tried, but in the end, it wasn’t what she wanted. The
whole white picket fence thing doesn’t really sync with my chosen profession,
after all. At least not how she envisioned it.” Shifting, Avara added, “Fen had
just become engaged to another, a woman who was a fellow Professor at
University, when she was killed during the VanDorn Strike. That was almost twelve
years ago now.”

“I am sorry, Avara.” K’llan said softly, and she meant the
sentiment. Her words were directed not only at the death of the woman that
Serros had obviously loved, but also the lost opportunity. Though the resultant
emotions of the ended relationship were for the most part well–healed, Z’arr
could read that Serros still carried a dull sense of regret.

“Thank you, K’llan. Truly though, what I mourn most is the
loss of my friend, more than what could have been. I think, the part that
sometimes interferes with feeling a fuller sense of peace over the matter, is
the fact that despite her dislike of being linked to someone within the
military, Fen the civilian was killed due to an attack. As while I, the person
with all that combat training and who routinely engages in extremely dangerous situations,
was not.”

Suddenly K’llan understood Serros’s meaning with perfect
clarity, almost as if the thoughts were her own. “Ah. The irony that the very
person that pursued a life of
peace
was killed
in violence
, rather
than the person who pursues a life
involving
violence to achieve peace
for others.”

“Exactly!” Avara exclaimed, pleased. “Most people other than
Marcus wouldn’t understand the distinction, but there it is all the same.”

K’llan could feel a flush of heat spread across her pale cheeks
and she knew a faint blush of blue was only too visible with the emotion. “Yes,
well, I do have an advantage over most.”

With a smile that was both knowing and sweetly innocent at
the same time, Avara replied, “Yes, I suppose you do.”

A moment later, the Captain shook her head, dark forehead
locks tumbling slightly with the motion. “Well, shall we end the night with
something more upbeat?”

“Of course.” K’llan answered as Serros swung her long legs
around to again seat herself face–forward in front of her Milvan.

“Any suggestions?”

“How about a different Human work. Aniya Arbor’s Violin
Concerto No. 3, with you taking the part of the cello?” K’llan invited with a
smile, lifting her firanelle, an instrument distinctly similar to a Human violin.

“Ha! You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Serros remarked with
genuine delight. “One of my Late Old–Terran favorites. We’ll see if we can
switch things up from the normally, strings–only modality of the classic rendition.”

“Very good, then. One… two… three… and four.” Z’arr counted
out, and was delighted to note the shift in Avara’s mood as they played
together.

They spent the next twenty–five minutes or so perfecting the
piece as best as they could, then with a brief Vosaia–fashion forearm clasp, they
parted ways for the evening.

The same questions regarding Avara’s level of comprehension
about their connection as well as exactly where the two stood, still rattled maddeningly
back in forth in K’llan’s mind as she retraced their earlier steps to her own
quarters. Yet at the same time, the Vosaia also felt that they had definitively
moved several steps closer to some form of understanding and eventual resolution.

As she walked the
Excalibur’s
late–lit, night–embraced
corridors, K’llan found herself quietly humming.

CHAPTER 13

With a sense of controlled freneticism, Lieutenant Commander
Diana Adeline executed three quick sidesteps while shifting her head a microsecond
before the blade of a cutlass snapped past her ear so close, that she could hear
the blade
sing
through the air. She followed the movement up with
another fractional step as a second blow attempted to cleave through her left
shoulder, and with a deft twist of wrist and forearm, she deflected a third and
then fourth sweeping strike aimed at her lower abdomen and right tricep.

Staring into the forcefully resolute features of her
adversary, for a moment Diana was struck by the electric thought that
this
was
the face that Captain Avara Serros’s enemies witnessed. Typically right before
breathing their last. Her furrowed brows framed dark–blue eyes that were afire
with volcanic intensity, and her expressive lips were a tight red–slash above
her set chin, contrasting against honey–cream colored skin that was flushed
with exertion and deadly excitement.

Moving so lightly on her feet that it was as if booted soles
only briefly bussed the padded matt she stood upon, Avara began a slow circle
around Diana, knees bent into a slight, energy–charged crouch. With an ease
that matched Avara’s own, Adeline followed and anticipated Serros’s movements
and for several seconds neither woman struck. Just slowly moved in a circuit,
first clockwise then counterclockwise, and clockwise again.

Step, step, step
.
One––two–two––three.

It was if they were performing an intricate tango popular thousands
of years ago and forgotten in the cascade of time to everyone but the two people
who now rounded about one another. Adeline could feel the sweat gathering at
her forehead and basting her spine under the dark–blue undershirt she wore. She
could hear her own controlled breathing beating a quick staccato across the
room even as her gaze never wavered from Serros’s. Knowing Avara as she did,
Diana waited with alert patience.

And… there!

With her typically aggressive nature spurring her to advance,
Avara suddenly soared forward with the terror–inspiring speed and grace of a
lioness leaping upon a gazelle. Yet Adeline was no placid animal. She spun
backward and to her right in a tight pirouette of a turn, entirely evading the
first two downward slashes of Avara’s cutlass and then deflecting the third
side–stroke.

And then it was Diana’s turn to go on the offensive.

Feeling the basket–hilt of her cutlass rolling against her
knuckles, Diana issued five rapid strikes, each aimed with potentially lethal
accuracy against Serros at a quintet of specific areas of attack. Not
surprisingly, the Captain was able to parry each attempted hit with ringing
precision. Yet her momentum had been lost, and Adeline could feel it.

Avara captured one, two, three more blows with her cutlass,
hilt gripped easily in her right hand. With the fourth deflection, Serros offered
and skillfully executed a classic riposte towards Adeline’s collarbone; just as
Diana had hoped.

Moving with a swiftness that matched Serros’s own, the edge
of Diana’s naked blade twisted and with another
ringing
tone, snaked up
Avara’s first to the hilt, then tightly clutching her grip, Diana
slammed
her silver–hued basket down with bone–jarring force into Avara’s well sculpted
nose and right cheek.

Even as she struggled to see through the hazy stars that
Adeline knew had to be clouding her vision at the blow, Avara still managed to
react with enough alacrity to twist to the side and evade Adeline’s next
attack. Yet despite her speed and skill, the Quorum Shield Operative was unable
to resist Diana’s follow up as she latterly slid around Avara like water cupping
a stone in a cool summer spring, heavy blade balanced delicately against the
back of Serros’s neck.

Adeline was so close that she could smell the Captain’s
scent; almond–kissed hair and clean skin, faint perspiration, along with a
trace of copper from Avara’s bleeding face.