Sheltered Light
Sarah had loved New Years. The decorations especially, like those that lined the eves of this fancy ballroom. Lights twinkled and shimmered in time with the candles that adorned tables covered with pristine white cloths. She'd loved parties like this, too. Dress uniforms and fancy dresses. The fancier the better. He remembered their first New Years together, how she'd told him to pick her up at 1800 for the Officer's Ball on Tarn Vedra. At 1830 she finally glided down the stairs in flowing dress of blue and silver satin. Crystals had decorated her hair. Funny the details one remembered years later. He'd decided, then, he was going to marry her, though he wouldn't propose for another year.
It wasn't the same without her.
"Captain," a woman greeted as he moved past. She bowed her head gracefully and for a moment he searched her face. Was she one of Sarah's descendants. Something in the shape of her eyes reminded him of her. Or perhaps everything here reminded him of her. She'd founded this world so he'd find it three-hundred years later—so the Commonwealth would survive.
He nodded and continued on his way. Destination unknown. Despite the bittersweet memories, it was hard not to take in this scene. The beauty of it. A room decorated in white dusted evergreens and red flowers with holographic snow falling from the ceiling. The flakes danced around giant crystal chandeliers turned down low. He half expected to feel the cold kiss of them on his face, but they melted into nothingness before they hit.
Music drifted across the vast room from a live orchestra on the stage. Instead of an abundant buffet, chefs from across the Known Worlds practiced their culinary arts at station strategically placed beside fully stocked bars. Hundreds of people mingled, their voices a steady companion to the strings. It was hard to say what New Years had meant to the humans of Earth three-thousand years ago. Traditions had melded with other human holidays like Christmas, the Vedran Day of New Beginnings, and a dozen other similar holidays to become the festival it was today. The Vedrans had adopted it and given it a place on their calendar that corresponded with winter in the Capitol on Tarn Vedra. Some who celebrated kept the winter theme, like they'd decided to do here on Tarazed where it was winter, or in Boston where Harper grew up. Others modified it to match the climates of their worlds. The two things that remained the same no matter where New Years was celebrated were the fancy late night parties and toasts at midnight.
"This is impressive," Rommie said, coming up beside him. She'd foregone a gown in favor of a dress uniform to match his. It looked good on her. The small smile he'd worn most of the evening stretched wider. It was good to see a member of his crew. The Triumvirate had honored him with a place at the VIP table in a private banquet hall. It'd been equally, if not more lavishly appointed than this hall, but he'd been separated from those he cared about on a day meant to celebrate with them. No wonder he was thinking of Sara today.
"Ah, Rommie. Enjoying yourself?" He offered her a crooked arm and she took it. They fell into step.
"As far as people watching goes, it has been interesting. The Commonwealth has thrown a great many resources into this event."
"Well, it is their first event since Tarazed returned to the Known Worlds." Dylan motioned towards the exit. "They want to show the Universe what they have to offer. Smile for the cameras."
Rommie raised her brows and shifted her eyes. A reporter stood off to the side interviewing Senator Nigel Zinn, a former member of the Rigellan Congress who'd won his planet's vote for Commonwealth Senate with an unprecedented seventy-five percent of the popular vote. A good man and an even better politician. Dylan was glad the reporter had caught Nigel. He wasn't a fan of interviews. Right now, all he had to worry about were the news drones with facial recognition built in. Rommie tightened up her smile as the one Dylan had noticed when they stepped into the hall swept over for a clip. As quickly as it appeared, it was off again, looking for another face to plaster all over the evening news. He wasn't a fan of those either but it was important for the rest of the Universe to see this. A united front. A set of smiling faces. An image of hope, peace, and prosperity for the hurting people in this time to grasp onto. And wasn't that what New Years was really about? All across the Tri-Galaxies, at every hour of the day billions rang in the New Year in their timezones, hoping and praying for prosperity and better days.
"How are the others?" He led them down a sparkling hall of white lights that twinkled on and off at intervals. From a separate ballroom at the end of the hall a steady rhythm beat. The ghosts of strings and brass floated above the buzz of hushed conversation. A voice too, smooth baritone. Earth jazz. Not Dylan's first choice, but Harper would love it.
"I am uncertain of where Tyr and Beka are, but Trance and Harper have both imbibed questionable amounts of alcohol and have found their way to the dance floor."
"Somehow, I'm not surprised." His smile remained. They were having fun. He'd been worried; not for Trance who made the best out of every situation with a smile on her golden face but Harper who still found these formal events difficult after three years of them. But Harper couldn't resist free food and an open bar. Pretty women, either—thankfully he only had eyes for one these days. It reduced the risk of political incident to almost none. Almost.
A blast of brass hit as the doors to the ballroom slid open, the singer wishing them the happiest New Year. The room was draped in burgundy and gold. Real candles glowed on stand-up tables lining the walls. Bars stood in each corner with crudites and other hors d'oeuvre on one side of the room and an incredible assortment of desserts on the other. A pair of disco balls spun in sync, casting dancing lights on the ground. Like the snow across the hall, holographic glitter sparkled in the air and faded away before it touched ground.
This is where the party had moved, and at the center of it all, he found Trance and Harper swinging and swaying on the dance floor. It was hard to miss them and the frenetic energy they put off. Harper's feet moved to the music, stomping and kicking. Trance followed along. Kept time with ease. Graceful as always with her red satin skirt twisting around her legs as Harper threw her out by one arm and spun her back to him. Concentrated smiles graced both their faces. Together, they glowed.
"They seem to be staying out of trouble, at least," Dylan said and led Rommie deeper into the room, towards the bar. The song ended. Dylan clapped his hands with the crowd, larger in here than in the banquet hall, as the singer took a bow. Trance noticed them and waved. So young tonight. Vibrant and full of life. Beautiful and in love. Not at all like the hard, serious, woman who'd come back from the future to save Harper's life. To save all their lives.
"I was concerned about their relationship when it started," Rommie said in her matter-of-fact tone.
"And now?"
"I've concluded that they compliment each other. Love is an interesting organic phenomenon, but I believe it is mostly beneficial."
"Why Rommie, you're turning into quite the romantic." They pulled up to the bar. "Scotch please."
Glass in hand, he now led Rommie to an empty table near the dance floor. A single candle burned in a burgundy glass at the center. The scotch was smooth and burned pleasantly in his chest as it went down.
"Romance has its practical applications. Happiness and comfort being one of them." Logical words. Though the way her smile softened when the music picked up again and the happy couple began a slow dance told a different story. Rommie, too, loved her crew. A fierce, protective sort of love. A very human sort of love.
He let the music fill the space between them. A song about finding your love by moonlight in the city. He'd loved the holidays in the Human quarter of the Vedran capitol. The elaborate light shows put to music in his parent's neighborhood. Ice skating in the shopping centers. Gifts in delicate paper with ribbons tied around them. Champagne and kisses at midnight with the crackle and boom of colorful fireworks above them. The way shop windows had fogged up on the inside and glowed a warm yellow when he walked the streets at night beside Sara. It had always seemed so timeless. In those moments he'd felt solidarity with his human ancestors and the traditions that had carried on over thousands of years.
The warmth of the scotch spread through his belly and into his limbs. A pleasant sort of fuzziness that chiseled at the stress of spending hours in conversation with diplomats and politicians—a place most soldiers didn't like to be. The music wormed it's way inside. He watched as Trance leaned in and whispered something into Harper's ear. It earned her a smile and a quick kiss. They never missed a step.
Amazing how his crew had grown and changed. More amazing how that growth warmed him more than the scotch. More than a fire on a winter's night. Beka had thought that they'd rescued him from his three-hundred year slumber in a black hole. He'd thought that he'd rescued them. All along, they'd supported each other. Made a life out of scraps. Built a family from orphans and outcasts. Found love and friendship in the unlikeliest of places.
Though he missed Sara and the life he'd had before, tonight was not a night to dwell on what he'd lost. It was a celebration of the present and the future. Of all they'd accomplished. This society they'd brought back to life. He could dwell on the good old days, but it was a matter of perspective. One day, these would be the good old days.
No, tonight was a night to remember all he had, and the people he'd grown to love. To remember he had good friends, and one right across from him.
"Rommie," he asked, extending his arm again, "Would you care to dance?"
She took his arm with a smile and a nod as the song wound down to a vibration of horns in the air. Conversation picked up. He caught the eyes of a newer captain on him and the confused look of a senator. He could only imagine. Strange enough to bring his ship to a party. Even stranger to ask her to dance. He only hoped one day they'd understand what it was like to have a friend as close as Rommie. She was, after all, the very air that he breathed.
"Dylan!" Trance said with a smile and gave him a side hug before returning to Harper's side. Her eyes sparkled like her skin and there was a lovely flush to her cheeks. The dancing hadn't worn her down at all, but it had left Harper's brow glistening with sweat. But Harper, ever a fount of youthful energy, had hours left in him. He too smiled.
"Heya Boss. Rommie. Ready to tear up the dance floor?" Harper waggled a brow at Rommie, earning him an eye roll. The music started, an upbeat instrumental piece. He placed a hand on Rommie's waist and she clasped his other, upraised hand. Together, they danced.
5