Chapter 1

A light breeze caused the flag to wave in a fluid motion that gave Caitrin Lann the impression of being underwater. The constant rainfall did little to alleviate the warm, sticky weather of western Texas. The humidity pressing down on her was compounded with the heartbreaking sadness she experienced. Caitrin had never known loss so weakening. So deafening.

Caitrin felt as if her heart had been replaced with a constant ache and an empty casing that could scarcely do the job of distributing blood to sustain her body's functions. Her stomach was a frozen tundra where wild beasts rolled across the surface in waves. Migraines plagued her night and day, limiting her to the simplest tasks of eating, sleeping, and crying.

Her head was uncovered to reveal red hair cropped close to her face, coming down to her chin, and falling just above the collar of a raincoat. The hood remained down. Caitrin wanted to feel something else besides pain, and she allowed the rain to bathe her from above. Droplets of water cascaded down her face and nose. They gathered with tears from emerald eyes to fall in the growing puddle at her feet. Sorrow and the elements becoming one on the ground.

Surrounding the stone memorial was a finely landscaped area with benches strategically placed about to offer the grieving a place to rest. Flags stood on metal poles in the rain, against protocol, flapping at random. It was noon, but the cloudy skies limited the sun to shine in a muted fashion while the heat radiated through. A variety of birds found sanctuary in a covered picnic area several dozen meters away, their songs doing little to console Caitrin.

Approaching footsteps sounded dull in her ears, though she didn't take her eyes off of the plaque that was etched in the center wall of the memorial.

The sloshing stopped and booted feet came into her view. "Mrs. Lann?"

It was an officer, that she could tell. His stance unwavering as stronger winds kicked up, causing his perfectly tailored uniform to quiver. He stood at attention as he would for a superior.

"I am she," Caitrin forced through a dry mouth.

"I was asked to give you this, Ma'am." He held out a small wooden box, carved with the Office of Naval Intelligence emblem on the top.

She brought her head up to get her first good look at the officer. He was tall and she could tell his body was in shape. His hair short and his eyes alert, looking at some distant point beyond the tree line. She glanced down at the box again and was confused, not understanding the formality or lack their of. "What is it?" she asked, pulling her hands from inside her coat's pockets.

He visibly swallowed. "Your husband's last effects, Ma'am." He nudged the box slightly closer.

Momentum kept her hands moving as another wave of near-crippling emotions washed over her. However when her hands made contact with the wooden box, Caitrin could not help but feel a small comfort from the unknown contents that lay within. She held it in both hands and slowly brought it up to her chest. "Thank you." She blinked, sending even more tears down already-drenched cheeks, and looked up into the officer's blank expression.

He saluted, then turned on his heal and left her alone.

Alone.

Caitrin dropped down to her knees, her long black dress soaking up the rain and mud. She closed her eyes and cried, wondering if the heavens above were weeping with her. The sounds of rainfall and the swirl of the wind were the only things she could hear. The birds had stopped their singing, and perhaps even they understood when to leave a grieving widow alone.


Caitrin climbed the steps to her second story apartment she had shared with her husband, on lease from the United Nations Space Command. She clutched the wooden box with one hand and absently groped for the railing with the other. Each step was a struggle under her weakened legs. Caitrin was of average height with an athletic build, but since being told of her husband's death, she had lost weight to the point where her clothing no longer fit her properly.

Caitrin heaved herself up the last few steps to shuffle to the doorway of her apartment. She fumbled with her identification card, but managed to get the door open before completely giving into the weight of her soaked clothes. The door shut behind her and she collapsed in the tiled entryway, sending streaks of water to flood the immediate area. She swallowed past the lump in her throat but it remained. Setting the box down on the carpet, she struggled out of her raincoat, its slick surface combating with her wet pale skin. Her anger simmered as the left sleeve refused to let go of her arm. She swore and shook her arm violently, expending all her strength till it finally let her be. Just let me be! She wiped away newly cried tears.

As the apartment's environmental system kicked in the cool air, she shivered in her sleeveless dress. Caitrin knew she had to change before she would get sick, but the lack of energy from her fight with the raincoat kept her on the ground. She just wanted to sleep, wanted to rest.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Caitrin inhaled sharply when she heard the words of Morcant inside her head. She smiled, then cried even more at the irony of her husband's usual comment when he was pressed for the luxury of sleep. She looked up across the living room to the oversized couch where they would lay down to take those late afternoon naps together, but only Morcant would rise shortly after Caitrin had fallen asleep to give her room to stretch out. Little things like that defined her husband as the caring person he was. Morcant would still open doors for her, reminiscent of ancient chivalry, and he cherished the time in between his assignments to spend every waking moment with her.

She buried her face in her hands. "Oh, how I miss you, Morcant." Caitrin knew she would see him again one day, her Faith confirmed that, but the burning inside her chest didn't ease at this reminder.

She had spent the two weeks since hearing of her husband's death moping about the apartment, getting random visits by counselors commissioned by the military to help her cope with her loss. They didn't know Morcant. No one did. She looked down at her hands to find them bundled up into fists and she forced them open. Her anger was on a short fuse and she had to remind herself of this. Otherwise I'm going to snap at someone who gives me the wrong look at a supermarket.

She finally caught her breath and removed her black sandals covered in mud and bits of freshly cut grass. Placing them on the rack with her other shoes, she slowly stood. Her plain black dress dripped, adding to the puddle on the tile. She hefted a shoulder strap off her right shoulder, then her left, and the ruined dress pooled around her feet. Caitrin took two steps onto the carpet, basking in its softness, and removed her undergarments, leaving a clothing trail as she started for the bathroom. She shivered again as she walked past a register blowing cold air across her legs.

The warm shower felt exceedingly comforting to her clammy skin and Caitrin lingered there till her fingers began to pucker. The hot water mixed with the air and helped clear her sinuses along with the fog trapped in her skull. She collected her thoughts and tried to sort them out. Grieving is a process and I need to have a goal in mind, otherwise I'll be wreck the rest of my life. She frowned as water cascaded off her face. In her mind she could see words others had given her when her own parents had died: "Time will heal all wounds." "They're in a better place, now."

She snorted. I was child then, but not an idiot. They should have known better than to think a few words in public would ease the hurt. Caitrin was only twelve when her parents were killed in a vehicle collision, and being an only child of single-sibling parents, she was placed in foster care. She waited for the memory of their deaths to rise up and overshadow Morcant's recent departure, but her current pain overrode any other thought.

She sighed, causing water to ricochet off the glass door. Time is what I need.

Caitrin turned off the shower and dried herself off. Securing a robe loosely around her waist, she continued to dab at her wet red hair. She stood in the hallway, glancing back and forth between the bedroom and the entryway. Then her eyes fixed on the wooden box still resting on the carpet and walked toward it. She swallowed past another lump in her throat and wrapped her hair with the towel she held. Squatting down, Caitrin picked up the memento and ran her fingers over the ONI crest, tracing every detail.

She retreated to the bedroom for a sense of unneeded privacy, and plopped down on the bed. Collecting her legs underneath her bare frame, she sat in the center of the bed with the wooden box in her lap. Preparing herself, she took a deep breath and pried the box open.

She smiled and brought a hand up to her mouth. With the other hand she pulled out her old service nametag with her maiden name etched into it. Niko. She had met Morcant while she was commissioned as an MP at the local base. Her eyes watered at the memory of their first date. She laughed quietly. You were such a gentleman, Morcant. You didn't even kiss me, though we both wanted to so badly. He had kept her old nametag after they got married as a keepsake and now it was hers again, if she so chose. Caitrin cleared her eyes and set the nametag down on the comforter.

The box's only other contents were a small envelope and a folded up piece of ONI stationary. The paper simply said, "To My . . . Dearest." She smiled again and an ache in her stomach rose up to her chest. We never did figure out terms of endearment for each other, did we? Inside the fold was written, "I love you." Caitrin's eyes closed and this time she couldn't stop the tears from falling. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably and she felt the sadness seize her breath. I love you too.

She sat weeping for a long while, taking in the day's events. She inhaled deeply and choked through the exhale. Caitrin took the towel from atop her head and dried her moistened face.

Taking the last object from the box, she opened the envelope. Out poured a pair of emerald earrings that matched the color of her eyes. Caitrin frowed as confusion contorted her features. Earrings? I don't wear earrings. Anger and bitterness took hold in her heart as she questioned for whom the gift was meant. I don't even have my ears pierced. She grabbed the folded stationary and read the front greeting. Dearest. Her expression soured as her hands fell to her sides in defeat. "What is this?" she hissed into the silence. Morcant, why?

She fell backwards on the bed, her head falling on the edge of a pillow, and she slumped on her left side. Caitrin cradled the earrings in her hands, looking at them for some sort of answer as to why her husband would desire another woman's affection. Everything about Morcant screamed faithfulness and this sudden change in perspective sought to silence those cries. She sobbed, looking at her pathetic reflection in the gemstones. All a scattered mess of conflicting emotions and depression warped by the multi-angled stone.

Then she saw something. Something beyond the gems themselves. A tiny square with her initials carved into it: CAL, Caitrin Ann Lann. So you did mean them for me! She felt relieved and yet confused at the same time. Surely you knew I didn't have my ears pierced. She turned them over in her hands to reveal a white gold backing. She examined the two more closely, finding offsetting triangles, one raised and the other lowered on the surface. They looked like two puzzle pieces. Caitrin pressed them together and heard a rhythmic click. She sat back up and held the now-combined object close to her face.

A tiny burst of static erupted from the device and she pulled her head away. What the . . . is that a voice? Caitrin put the object up close to the side of her head and found that it fit snuggly into her ear.

A message began to play back, loud and clear, in the voice of her husband, Morcant.

My dear Caitrin. There is so much I long to say to you, but the recording time is short so I'll tell you this: I love you. I'm sure ONI will keep a tight lid on my current mission, but know that I was right in confronting my superiors for the possible atrocities they were to make. The Andvarians just want their peace and privacy. Is that not what we fight for? They are on the right side of the argument. I implore you, Caitrin, to seek out the truth. I do not know how much longer I have here on Andvari, but after arguing with Colonel Ross, he threatened to court-martial me. Seek out Donagh. I'm sorry I can't tell you more. I love you, Caitrin.

The last syllable was washed away with static, and Caitrin took the device out of her ear and stared at it. So many questions rose in her mind from the cryptic message. So many conflicting thoughts of grief and confusion. Was Morcant asking me to pick up where he left off? Perhaps ONI is as infected as the local police were last year. Did he expect me to rout out corruption? She shook her head. Morcant was never one to exaggerate important information; he was often straight-laced. If he says his office was in the wrong, well then I'll take his word over theirs any day.

Where is Andvari and who is this Donagh? She straightened up. And more importantly, was Morcant really killed in the line of duty or was he smudged out like a discarded cigarette? A new wave of anger and determination swept over her. She found herself repulsed at the idea of having her husband silenced for the things he believed, things he fought for.

And in that moment, Caitrin knew she had to find out exactly what happened to Morcant.

For her sake. For her closer. For her sanity.

She craned her neck to read the clock resting on the nightstand and sighed. Almost midnight. Being bombarded with information and churning emotions had completely worn her out, but below it all, she found a way of escape from her turmoil. Realizing the late hour, Caitrin felt beyond tired and she crawled under the covers. I'll get to the bottom of this, Morcant.

Placing the device back in her ear, she was finally able to fall asleep to the sound of her husband's voice. In her dreams, she pictured herself with a renewed sense of destiny: she would go to the ends of the galaxy to find the truth.