After-action cool-downs, Daiba reflected as they made their way towards the boarding tube several hours later, were a drag after all the adrenaline-fuelled action.

'Can't be all spine-tingling thrills and spills,' Ben quipped. 'Besides, it'd be exhausting.'

'Yeah, but does it have to be so boring just standing around?' Daiba grumbled. He kicked at the floor, scuffing the toe of his boot.

'Only for those of us who have to stand and watch, I guess. Harlock's not been idle…'

'Huh. A lot of talk.'

'Still pissed you didn't get to blow up the entire fleet?' Ben ran his fingers through his blond hair.

'I get it. Rafflesia's gone, and they're not all to blame. So no, not anymore. But…'

'The thing those warp vids never show you? It's hell cleaning up the bodies after one of those shoot outs, and the blood and body parts? Get into the electronics and any mechanisms they land on, and plays havoc with the self-repair. Last time we got boarded, took the entire crew three weeks to strip down the internal gearing for the ratchet system and clean it. Trust me - any altercation that ends up with the captain doing a lot of talking is an improvement.'

'That or doing all our shooting on someone else's ship,' Kei quipped as she walked past them. 'Boys, we're out of here now that the shooting's stopped out there.'

'About that…' Ben stopped walking, forcing Kei, Daiba, and a rapidly advancing Harlock to do likewise. 'I'd like to go with Cleo, at least until she brings the fleet to Earth. You'll need a liaison after all.'

'I hadn't been going to ask it of you,' Harlock said. Ben raised and dropped one shoulder.

'It makes sense for it to be me. And someone needs to watch her back for a bit until this is a little more settled.'

'And a few other parts of her anatomy,' Daiba sniggered. 'Ow!' he rubbed the back of his head and glared at Ben. 'Just Ben though? No one else?'

'Are you volunteering?' Harlock asked, with a touch of amusement. Daiba actually did think about it for a moment, then shook his head emphatically.

'I just… No, I'm sorry. it's a step too far.'

'I can handle it,' Ben assured Harlock. 'And too many would lay us open to accusations from the mazone that we were putting too much influence on their new queen. One man is a token, or a hostage. More than that looks like we're sticking our oar in where it isn't wanted.'

'You have that portable warp radio?'

Ben patted the side of his hardsuit. 'Trust me, if anything goes wrong, you'll be the first to know.' He looked around at the corridor they stood in, cracks appearing in the wooden walls, dying lianas trailing down from the sagging ceilings. 'This ship hasn't got much longer. Cleo… Rafflesia… is overseeing the transfer on the starboard side. I said I'd make my way over in Kei's fighter, if that's okay?'

Harlock nodded. 'Yattaran's flying mine back on remote and we'll take the tube back over, since there's no room in the cockpits. Be safe, Ben.'

'Always!' The blue-skinned pirate gave them a half salute, half wave and strolled onwards to the hangar. 'See you at Earth!' he called back over his shoulder.

'Assuming I live that long,' Harlock muttered. 'Hey!' He glared at Kei, who'd elbowed him in the ribs.

'Whatever happened to the power of positive thinking?' she quipped. 'I thought you were sure we could sell this solution?'

'It's like selling a three-legged donkey,' he replied dryly. 'Sell it, yes. Persuade it to take a walk afterwards…'

Daiba leaned against the rim of the boarding tube and put his head in his gauntleted hands. 'Oh Gaia… we're screwed, aren't we?'

'A bit early to tell,' Harlock replied brightly. 'I haven't had a chance to talk to anyone yet.'

'And what could anyone possibly object to?' Daiba muttered as the pirate strode past him into the boarding tube. With a sigh he followed him, Kei bringing up the rear.


Harlock and Kei both took the stairs to the bridge two at a time, Daiba close behind. Franz was already moving away from Kei's station before she'd even cleared the top step. He wasn't averse to turning to watch her sashay across the bridge to reach it, with an admiring grin which he quickly wiped off his face when he saw his captain's raised eyebrow. 'Sir!'

'Stop trying to impress the temporary help, Franz,' Harlock drawled as he walked towards the wheel, still manned by Blaze. 'Any more of that and I'll tell Kei you were ogling her arse again…'

'You do know she's standing right there?' Franz shot a worried glance over to Kei, who just raised her head slightly to stare at the pulleys that adorned the ceiling, and rolled her eyes with a sigh. 'You do remember the last captain wasn't that cruel, right?'

'The last captain wanted to completely render your existence null and void,' Yattaran quipped.

'My point exactly,' Franz replied with a grin. 'He never threatened us with Kei!'

A ripple of laughter worked its way around the lower bridge, punctuated with a huff of disapproval from Kei. Franz left the upper gantry by the simple expedient of sliding down the bannister rail, and Harlock stood patiently behind Blaze, waiting for the other man to finish giving the order to disengage the docking tube. 'What took you so long?' he asked when Blaze turned to face him. 'I could have made the trip to Earth and back in the time you took to cover a few AU to come and get us…'

Blaze pushed his dark hair back from his forehead and stared him down. 'Funny man. We had a few ships that disagreed with the regime change. Seems the military aren't happy.'

'Peace isn't their natural state. Any military gets a little twitchy when they see the pink slips coming,' Harlock replied. 'Any damage?'

'Nothing to speak of - the self-repair will be done in about half an hour or so, but we're jump-worthy. The loyal captains seem to be mopping up the rest of the rebels - I concentrated on keeping them off your back.' He looked down at the floor screen with a frown. 'I think you had enough problems without being shot at - the hull is fragmenting rapidly and you really, really do not want to see the readings we're getting off that black body drive…' He stepped back and gestured at the wheel. 'The helm's all yours, captain.'

Harlock smiled but made no move towards the wheel. 'Hold fast for a while longer, Blaze. Just keep looming until Cleo - sorry, Rafflesia II - has got the change of command settled. As soon as those battleships settle down, we can leave. If nothing else I need to get you back to your mother before she tells me off for keeping you out past your bedtime…'

Blaze flipped him the finger.

'Course?' Yattaran asked.

'First back to that last system to pick up Tadashi and Meg. We'll liaise with the SDF commander. Before that - Yattaran, set up a warp conference between us and Carmilla.'

'You want to bring Hannibal in on this?' Blaze's eyebrow almost vanished under his fringe. 'He might take some persuading. He doesn't tend to stick his nose in much these days...'

'Maybe, but Harlock's good at persuading, and Hannibal's got a lot more influence with the former Lar Metallian crowd than we do,' Kei explained. She didn't look up from her console. 'To them he's still "The Protector": the Hero of the rebellion against the Holy Queen. Promethium might listen to him where she'd just tell us where to stick it, and Leopard - if Hannibal advises the queen to be prudent - will do what he's told. Otherwise we're in for a world of hurt if he and Hoshino decide to tag team us.' She did look up on that last word, and stared at Harlock, her bottom lip caught very slightly under her top teeth. 'Although I'm still not convinced we can trust a man who still refuses to let anyone see what's under that mantle and hood…'

'You'd rather turn up in the Sol system at the head of a massive fleet of refugees and hope for the best?' Harlock replied dryly. 'If the irony alone doesn't kill me, I'll be lucky to be able to show my face in any system between here and the Greater Magellanic Cloud ever again…'

'That Jovian plasma gun is disabled, right?' Daiba asked. 'I mean, if there's anything that could put a dent in this plan…'

'Oh trust us,' Yattaran replied with an evil smirk, 'it's dead. Ain't no-one using that toy again after what I did to it. If they try they'll most likely turn Jupiter into a second sun.'

'Is it me,' Daiba asked of no-one in particular, 'or is that even more worrying than someone using us for target practice with it?'

Every single crewmember on the bridge - upper and lower - raised a hand. Including Harlock.

'No fuckin' faith, you scurvy space dogs,' Yattaran muttered. 'And you -' he jabbed a finger at his captain, who was busy re-folding his arms, 'are the worst of the lot, since you signed off on that monkey wrench we threw into the workings.'

'I was just trusting my crew of experts,' Harlock deadpanned. 'Though in my defence I'd only been at the helm for two days, we were fighting off the remains of my brother's fleet, I was constantly watching my back to make sure no-one shivved it and I'd been living on nothing but crap coffee and painkillers for fifty-two hours straight at the time, so my judgement might have been a little impaired…'

Kei leaned over and patted him on the arm. 'Don't worry. I went over the whole thing before it even got to you.' She shot Yattaran a poisonous glare, and stuck her tongue out in reply to the shit-eating grin the bulky pirate gave her in return.

'...aaaannnd there goes my reputation as the galaxy's toughest hardcase,' Harlock sighed. 'Again.'

'Oh, I dunno.' Daiba turned his own nauseatingly chirpy grin on his older cousin. 'I mean, it takes a real man to own up to letting a girl do all his thinking for him…'

Harlock dropped his hand to the hilt of his gravity sabre with a mock growl and the youth skipped out of the way to the accompaniment of another ripple of sniggers from the deck. Blaze leaned heavily against the wheel and just glared at Harlock. 'Anytime you want to take back command of these jokers, please feel free to step up…'

Harlock smiled and shook his head. 'I have a couple of errands to run first. Besides, it's good for you. How can you learn when you command a crew who always do what they're told and don't challenge you?' He began to walk towards the stairs.

'Yeah. Is that what you tell yourself?' Blaze called out. He caught the sound of a slight cough from Kei. 'What?'

'Actually… when we started out, pretty much. Though you've had it easy. We've managed to mostly house-train Ali since then!'

'Oi!' The indignant squawk from below raised another laugh behind Harlock as he headed towards the rear of the ship, and he smiled to himself as he walked. 'Whilst peace and quiet is occasionally nice,' he murmured, 'I'd hate it if they changed…'

Me too, though it used to drive Harlock potty at times. Especially once Ali signed up… He used to say it was like having an annoying whiny kid in the back of your vehicle: "are we there yet?" "why are we doing this?" "what's this all about?" "who…" "where…" "when…" Tochiro's mental voice giggled. Your friend's a good kid. Takes it in his stride, for all his bitchin', though I think a lot of that is like you - playing to the crowd. You know he's taken his brother's death pretty hard?

'Yeah. One reason I wanted to keep him busy. Selen suggested he shouldn't get too much time to brood. He and Marin pretty much had only each other growing up, with both parents running a major rebellion. They're… they were… both pretty laid back about it, but it leaves a mark.'

You serious about Hannibal?

'Like Kei said: he creeps us out a bit, but there's no-one else to go to. The SDF can't stick their noses in, so it's down to us - and the Thieves. But Selen's got her hands full, so we need to talk Hannibal into taking back the mantle. So to speak.' He paused on the threshold of the computer room. 'Don't you have anything in your databanks about him?' He walked into the cathedral-like chamber, found the convenient conduit in front of the whirling red circle on the front of the central column, and sat down, spreading the cloak out behind him.

Not that we haven't already gone over - and trust me, I've done a lot of cross checking over the years. Turned up about fifty years after the War, so close to seventy years ago. We were hopping around the galaxy a lot at the time, so only picked up the chatter… Before the Machine Wars, there was that big uprising on Lar Metal and on the nearby planets they were tapping for slave labour under the previous Holy Queen, Lar Rarela. Talk was he wasn't a young man even then, so if it's the same guy, he must be old even for a Lar Metallean by now. As far as we know no-one's ever seen his face. But he's always been on the side of the angels, even if that's not always the winning side. A merc with a conscience, we always figured.

'Maybe. But he's got influence and a reputation, and I'm going to need everything and everyone I can get to pull this one off.'

'We can't start - or even hope to win - a new war,' Tochiro warned, his hologram appearing next to Harlock and sitting next to him. 'Shift up a bit.' Harlock shifted.

'You're a hologram - you don't need to sit down,' he pointed out.

'Just being companionable, so you can just be polite about it,' Tochiro twitted. They both smiled. 'He wasn't around much during Selen's rebellion or the Machine Wars… Though he did help with the vaccine distribution a few years back. Still trying to figure out how, since he was somehow even able to beat our transit times...'

'I know. Bugs me a bit as well. As to the rest - I just figured he didn't want to interfere. He must be well over a hundred - older than Harlock perhaps?' He shrugged. 'Maybe he just wanted a rest…'

'Might not thank you for trying to drag him into this.'

'Maybe. But he's got resources, and dropped a couple of hints over the years that he cares about Earth. It's worth a try, even if all he can do is just keep Frankie off my back.'

Tochiro was silent for a moment. 'You want to draw out his ship, don't you?'

Harlock unfastened the cloak and let it slide off his shoulders with a sigh of relief. 'Don't you? You had to wonder, right? During the plague? But it's not about immediate fire support here - if he does have a dark matter battleship...'

'Deathshadow One…'

Harlock dipped his chin to acknowledge what they'd been dancing around. 'The mazone need all the protection we can give them whilst they deploy and disembark. I - we - can't be in two places at once. And if he is the captain of DS1…'

Tochiro looked down at his illusory boots and shuffled in his equally illusory seat.

'We need it,' Harlock continued. 'Even if we get this mazone issue resolved, we still have the rest of this mess to deal with. It's all connected. The fallout from the mazone homeworld explosion seriously interfered with that sub-space rift Loki created nearly fifteen years ago, and Rafflesia's black body drives have done a lot of damage along the way. If we're going to close that rift before it opens that gate in the hourglass nebula, we need more ships like the Arcadia. You've done the maths, my friend - we can't do it alone.'

'Khalsa.' Tochiro said quietly, after a long pause. 'His name was Khalsa. Served under Harlock for years on the Yukikaze. He was the only one who didn't open fire on us after Harlock blew his stack. Even Kat Komarova wouldn't listen to him. To us. But then again, he didn't exactly rush to our rescue either… And Phantom isn't a forgiving man. If he is Khalsa, he's had good reason to keep his face hidden for a hundred and fourteen years…' He let out a non-existent breath. 'Might explain why he never wanted to get anywhere within reach of my sensors any time he's been lurking… but I dunno. Khal? He was more of the permanent second in command, if you know what I mean? Great in a fight and he had our backs more times than I care to count, but at heart he was a warrior. The sort of shit Hannibal pulls and his organisational smarts? That guy's specialities are people and logistics… That reminds me more of…' he trailed off, a look on his face equal parts guilt and sorrow at some long buried memory.

Harlock thought he heard the Arcadia's builder mutter something under his breath, but didn't quite catch it. 'Tochiro?'

The little dead man shook his head and waved a hand dismissively in front of his face. 'Nah. Chasing ghosts. Ignore me. Now. We're gonna have to be smart about how we play this, kiddo. Or we'll be up to our proverbials in shit even you won't be able to talk your way out of…'

'I was rather hoping I could talk my way into a solution for this. It solves two problems and makes sense. Humanity will never be able to return to Earth in anything under a geological timescale - regardless of how it's recovering, it won't happen overnight. But we've seen what the mazone can accomplish on a planet ravaged by a dark matter explosion… and they want to go home, my friend. Why not let them?'

'Because humans aren't logical, they're a territorial ape who won't like letting anyone not them take over something that they see as "theirs" even if they can never use it or enjoy it. We fought a damn war and slaughtered billions to keep our own species from coming back there, and now you want to hand it over to aliens?'

'They came from Earth - long before we did,' Harlock pointed out, not unreasonably, he thought.

'Potayto, Potahto,' Tochiro replied glibly. 'That won't cut any ice with the Council, or Destiny, or Andromeda… And here's another Harlock, they'll say, making dodgy decisions without consulting anyone else. I mean… how dare he? And you haven't mentioned the whole Mars thing yet… what if Zera Sender and the Counts Mecha launch an attack on the mazone and we get into another tit-for-tat? Not even the Home Fleet can respond fast enough to a Martian assault on Earth.

'I rather think the mazone can defend themselves against that rabble, and I did explain that whole mess to Cleome, before we left.'

'All of it?' Tochiro asked archly.

Harlock coughed. 'I might have left out the bit about Lazarus being my brother's digi-clone… Besides, he's been in the wind for the last four years.'

'You were looking for Daiba during that period. Kind of took your eyes off him, huh?'

'He's the least of my worries. Lazarus can wait a while.' Tochiro's electronic snort didn't need the "yeah, right" tag Harlock mentally supplied. 'Those AIs and their lackeys are a small concern in the grand scheme of things. Too busy with their own problems right now.'

Tochiro sniggered. 'Weren't most of those of your making?'

Harlock grinned. 'I might have encouraged a few of them…' He sighed. 'I'm juggling far too many interested parties, and I never wanted to get us this deeply involved, beyond stopping Rafflesia from destroying the universe. But she just had to make it personal, and now no-one else seems to have a solution… I'm open to anyone else stepping up here. So far, only Rokuro's been able to help, and that's only because he can offer the water-mazone a habitat…' He stood up with casual elan and reached down for the heavy cloak which he draped over one arm, taking the weight with a grunt. 'I'm open to suggestions.'

'I'll have a think, but I'm an engineer - you know what they say… when you give a man a hammer…'

'Every problem looks like a nail,' Harlock finished for him. 'You sell yourself short - you're one of the smartest guys I've ever met.' He headed for a gap in the sever banks surrounding the main column. 'If anyone wants me I'll be in sick bay checking on Cai.'

He knew without looking round that the hologramme had vanished before he was through the gap in the servers.

What he couldn't figure out was why it had sounded earlier as though that barely heard word Tochiro had muttered under his breath had sounded like his son's name.


The heavily mantled figure on the holoscreen managed to convey amused admiration with a simple shrug of black-shrouded shoulders. 'So your plan is to just jump several thousand ships into the inner solar system? Past the Pluto Defence Line, past Enceladus and the Home Fleet stationed in-system to protect the New council there, past the Mars Interdiction Fleet in the asteroid belt, and past the AIs' warning buoys and somehow manage to firstly not get wiped out in the first half hour, but also disembark several hundred thousand alien lifeforms and their biosphere onto a planet with planet-wide dark matter storms and an unstable surface? Does that about sum it up?'

The dead, flat delivery of a voice hidden behind so many levels of masking tech and distortion that no intonation stood a chance of getting through still managed to convey a level of sarcasm that rivalled Harlock's own.

'You know, when you put it like that...'

'And whilst thinking up this plan, did it ever once cross your mind that the last time a group of ships entered the solar system with Earth as its goal, things didn't exactly end well? For either side?'

'You know, if I wanted a lecture on my shortcomings, I'd call up the bastard who thinks he's my brother. Yes, I have thought it through - and if anyone wants Earth habitable again, the mazone might just be the ones to do it. It's worth a shot. And we're not moving all of them - several groups are more than happy to settle elsewhere out in colonial space - several hundred ships are already en route to Mistral to help with the clean up.'

'Young man, you have always had eyes bigger than your stomach. And the balls to match. But this time… The Alliance might not be able to live on Earth, but it symbolises humanity for so many - what you're proposing is close to opening up the Vatican as a bloody homeless shelter.'

'The what?' Harlock shook his head at the unfamiliar reference. 'Never mind. We have to move past all of this. Earth can be green again - who wouldn't want that?'

'Do you want a list?'

'You know, I'm definitely hearing sarcasm,' Harlock retorted. The black-shrouded figure didn't so much as shrug a shoulder in reply. 'I'm doing this with or without your help, but I could really use someone yanking Leopard's chain to keep him off my back. The Alliance Fleet I can handle - most of them won't get into a fight with us.'

'Hoshino would.'

Harlock shrugged. 'Him I can take.'

'And the other two thousand ships of the line he could bring to bear? Even if you get the mazone to Earth, you can't guarantee their safety. Once you leave…'

'I've got a couple of ideas on that front.'

He almost thought he heard an exasperated sigh from behind the figure he was talking to, as though someone else was in the room with the founder of the Millennial Thieves. 'As long as it doesn't involve trying to bring down the government,' Hannibal replied.

Oh yes. Definite "tone"… 'Trust me,' Harlock replied amiably. Behind his back he crossed his fingers.

There it was again. This time, a snort. 'That wasn't a denial.' A pause. 'I'll speak to Promethium, and I'll even yank Leopard's leash personally if I need to. Like his father he's a bit of a prick, and not above exceeding his orders. Hoshino however… if he engages with that last group whilst you're trying to one-up yourself with your own cleverness…'

'Now you're starting to sound like my father,' Harlock ground out. This time he could have sworn the hooded figure only just caught itself from looking back over its shoulder and stifling a snigger. 'As soon as he hears we're on the move he won't wait for a group of refugees to shoot at. He'll follow me.'

'There are days I'm never sure whether I ought to applaud you or shoot you,' Hannibal replied. 'I'll be in touch.'

The holo winked out and Harlock let out a breath he'd not been aware of holding. 'Well that went better than I hoped…' he murmured. Ali stuck his head round the corner and peered into the comms suite.

'The Unfriendly Ghost giving you some lip?'

'Don't pretend you weren't eavesdropping,' Harlock snapped back.

'Ooh… tetchy. Someone needs to cut back on the coffee…'

'Someone else needs to shut the fuck up before he finds my "Galaxy's Greatest Pirate" mug shoved where only a brave proctologist would venture.' Harlock turned on his heel. 'I'll be in my quarters.'

'Getting laid, I hope!' Ali called out. 'For all our sakes?'

Harlock raised a hand above his head without looking back and extended his middle finger.


The massive double doors to the captain's quarters opened soundlessly as Harlock stood in front of them. Made of a dark, ancient oak they were totally at odds with the Arcadia's internal aesthetic, which trended more towards a brassy steampunk baroque than central european gothic as a rule. And in some ways, they formed a literal threshold between the high-tech excesses of the ship, and the oppressive luxury of the former captain's quarters, which were dominated by the faux leaded window overlooking the stern of the bridge, and a series of ornate, heavy furniture upholstered in thick brocades in rich dark colours.

In all his time as captain, he hadn't felt much of an urge to change the furniture - or the lighting. The low level glimmers of a multitude of ornate (but for safety reasons totally artificial candelabra) were more than adequate, and since his damaged eye gave him a headache in bright lights, this suited him just fine. As for the furniture… it suited the room, which looked like something out of an ancient hunting lodge; old oak and pewter, with a massive four-poster one side, and a huge solid desk the other. Harlock had grown up with the tasteful minimalism of his mother's quiet, but contemporary tastes in their expensive Capital apartment on Mars, and whilst that was still his personal preference, he had his rooms on Deathshadow Island to indulge that. In this room, they would have looked small, mean and ill at ease, threatened and cowed by the gloomy shadows.

And he'd never have been able to find a modern bed capable of holding the current occupants in as much comfort. He stepped through the doors, bare registering them closing behind him with a tiny sigh of compressed air, dropped the cloak onto a nearby armchair, and stared across at the occupants, wondering briefly why it felt so hard to swallow.

All three boys were curled up together under the covers, fast asleep. Nami was snuggling between the twins, her dark curls hiding her face. Freya had fallen asleep with her pale head on Mamoru's shoulder, and his eldest had one arm protectively around the little nibelung girl. The two cats were curled up together in a hollow between Wattaru and Taro, and at the foot of the bed the black bird had stretched its impossibly long neck out with its beak resting on Nami's foot.

From the bathroom he could hear water running in the shower through the door, open a tiny crack. A quick glance showed Kei's flightsuit neatly placed in the cleaning basket, and after a moment's hesitation, he began to undo his gun belts, stowing the weapons in the armchair, the pistol hanging over the back and the sabre propped up against it on the seat. Boots were pulled off and placed - for once - quietly on the floor and he had the top half of his flightsuit off before he reached the bathroom door, hopping slightly to pull the rest of it clear of his lean frame and dropping to the floor before shutting the door behind him.

The door to the shower cubicle opened at his touch and he slipped in, closing it behind him, and letting the water cascade over tired muscles, and start to wash away a little of the fatigue, sweat and strain of the past couple of days. And without even being asked, Kei leaned back against him, her bottom curving nicely against his groin and her back - hot and slick from the water - pressed against his chilled chest.

'Not a moment too soon,' she said, after a theatrical sniff. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her. 'And if that was your onesie hitting the floor, you can pick it up and put it in the laundry before you go to bed…'

'I'm not sure there's room. It looked as though we'll be sleeping on the couch…' He kissed her wet shoulder, and stroked the length of an old, wide scar with his lips. Her skin shivered under his touch and she leaned back into him, until he had to brace slightly to avoid the pair of them toppling backwards. 'Want to give me a hand here?'

'What? You can't wash yourself these days?' she teased. Her breath caught when he ran the tip of his tongue over the slightly rough skin of the dark scar on her shoulder blade.

'It's far more fun when you do it,' he murmured into her neck a moment later.

'The children are just the other side of the door,' she pointed out, not turning.

'So you'll have to be quiet.'

'Sleeping.'

He nipped her earlobe gently. 'So we'll both be quiet…'

She was only three inches shorter than he was, so to lean her head against his shoulder when she twisted in his arms to do so, wasn't the most comfortable pose, and he gently repositioned her so that they stood cheek to cheek under the hot water jets. Eventually he pushed her away slightly so that he could kiss away the salty trails that ran down her cheeks from the corners of her eyes.

'You got them back,' she said eventually.

'I promised, didn't I? When have I ever broken my word to you?' His lips brushed hers and as she parted her own in response to the gently hungry caress of the tip of his tongue, his hands wandered down to cup the firm muscle of her backside, and pull her closer, even as she sighed softly and wrapped her arms around him.


A little later, he ran his fingers through his hair, still warm and fluffed from the drying field, and watched her button up one of his shirts over a pair of blue shorts. Concessions to modesty, with a room full of small children, in deference to which he'd hauled a pair of boxers out of storage. He perched on the edge of the hot tub, one leg swinging idly, and watched as she opened the door and just leaned against the side, not entering the room, but staring at the bed, a faraway look on her face. He stood up and moved to her side, placing an arm around her waist when she leaned against him again.

'I can't decide whether to just run over there and hug them, or watch them sleep,' Kei said eventually.

'Do you remember the first night we spent in this room?' he asked. He didn't wait for her answer. 'I'd taken one look at it my first day, and turned around and headed straight back to my old cabin. There was something just so wrong about it. Gaia - the man's chair was barely cold on the bridge, and I was just standing there in this doorway, looking at all this from both sides - the luxury, the difference between this room and the rest of the ship… and all this for a man who never really seemed to care what was around him. Hell, I'd assumed he lived in some bare cabin with a bunk and a closet. It would have fit better with what I'd seen. And somehow I was supposed to lock myself away in it, away from the crew and make like nothing had changed? I turned around, walked out and shut the door behind me.'

'Now I think about it, you did kind of get a bit spaced out when I suggested you should sleep here later on,' Kei said gently. 'What changed your mind?'

'You. The look on your face when you saw that damn hot tub I think was what did it. You looked around and you didn't see the false, oppressive comfort, or the luxurious barrier between the world outside and the man inside; you saw beauty, and maybe also a little of a life you'd like to have. It made me think that whilst all of this - and the ship, and everything else that came with being Harlock might be too much for one man, it might just be do-able if I had someone to share it with. I didn't want to take this, and all its baggage, and somehow set myself above and beyond a crew I'd lived amongst and fought with, but I could give it to someone else, and just maybe make something out of myself and the situation.' He kissed the back of her head. 'And look at them, Kei. We made something incredible, between us.'

She let out a soft, laughing sigh. 'We might have also saved the galaxy a couple of times along the way…' She shivered slightly and he held her closer. 'By rights, we should have crashed and burned. I mean: post-near-death sex, both of us betrayed by those we loved and trusted. Alone, hurt, and just plain lost, clinging to each other in the night for dear life.'

'Well, I was smart enough to do whatever it took to hang onto you…' He tapped her arm to get her attention. He whispered loudly into her ear: 'Someone's faking it. We're being watched…'

Mamoru, realising he was rumbled, sat up sleepily and grinned at them. 'Mom? Dad?' His stirring woke the others, and they were quickly buried under a tumbling mass of small children mostly talking over one another, and dragged over to the bed where two cats and a bird found themselves at least temporarily displaced, whilst everyone jostled for hugs, and tears, questions and explanations filled the air.

Harlock, watching Kei stroke Freya's silky hair whilst she had Nami in her lap with her arm around her small daughter, smiled at the sight. He was buried under the boys, Taro already snoring slightly, and the twins nodding off whilst trying desperately to stay awake.

'Doesn't look as if either of us will get much sleep tonight,' he said softly. Kei rolled her eyes.

'I think I can live with that,' she replied. She reached over and snagged Wattaru, giving Harlock a little more room to shuffle further down and get comfortable, and without prompting both girls made room for the boy, who happily snuggled against his mother. 'And I wouldn't miss this sight for the world,' she added with a giggle.

Harlock looked down to where a small ginger cat was wriggling its butt in preparation for pouncing on his toes where they poked out from under the covers. 'I've faced tougher enemies than you today,' he told Trouble with mock severity. He wiggled his big toe provocatively and the cat lashed his tail once and pounced.


Inside the hollowed out asteroid that was Carmilla, the black robed figure turned away from the holo suite and pushed back the concealing hood. Silvery blonde hair cascaded out from confinement to fall down to below narrow shoulders as she let the mantle fall to the floor. Pale blue eyes set in an angular face stared at the man who'd stayed carefully out of shot during the conversation, and the girl - barely into her twenties - reached up to take an earpiece out of her ear and pull a vocal modulation collar away from her throat. 'Don't you think you were a little hard on the boy?'

The real Hannibal removed the mike from his face. 'Hardly a boy. He's thirty seven.' He started to stand up, wavered slightly and sat back down again heavily. The girl ran to his side and knelt at his feet, looking up into his face, her expression radiating concern.

'You should rest more, Grampy.'

Hannibal waved her concerns away. 'I'm old, Estella. Happens to all of us eventually. Even me.' He coughed, the effort shaking his body, which to the girl's eyes was looking more frail by the day. A once handsome face was now lined and thin, and three pale but long, old scars marred his right cheek, narrowly missing his eye. A charitable estimate of his age would have placed him as a reasonably well-preserved seventy. In fact, he was more than double that. 'And how many times do I need to remind you that I'm a little further back in your family tree than that?'

Estella giggled. 'Well "honoured ancestor" sounds a bit formal and I just don't have time to add all those greats…'

'Cheeky minx.'

'I can deal with Promethium for you, Grampy. You don't need to strain yourself over that. She'll not be able to tell the difference. She never does.'

Hannibal shook his head, and his silvery hair, threaded through with only a few strands of his original wet-sand colour, fell over his forehead to be pushed back with the minimalist gesture born of long practice. Hazel eyes as piercing as a hawk's stared down fondly at the girl. 'You'd think she'd be wise to that trick, but some people never learn. Not this time, Estella. Our Young Harlock's over-reaching himself this time, but damn the devious, manipulative little bastard, he's counting on me knowing that and on me not leaving him flapping in the wind.' He sighed. 'And although I'd like to administer a well-placed kick to his annoying behind, he's right. So: in order: get me Selen, get the long range warp radio up and call Andromeda, then send a message to the fleet.'

'Saying what?' Estella asked, a little tartly.

Hannibal smiled. 'Showtime…' he replied with a tiny quirk of the corner of a still generous, well-shaped mouth. 'Tell them to get their asses to Proxima and we'll rendezvous there. I'll explain en route.'

'En route to where?' she asked, exasperation creeping into her voice as she helped the old man stand up.

'Prep the Miranda for travel,' Hannibal replied. He patted Estella on her arm, then disentangled her elegant, slim fingers gently from where they were solicitously helping him. 'My dear child, I'm still capable of walking unaided.' He smiled to take the sting out of the slight rebuke. 'Earth, Estella.. He lifted a scarab-shaped locket from out of his breast pocket, opened it and stared for a brief moment at an old, flickering holo, before snapping it shut and putting it carefully away. 'It seems we're going to Earth.'

'Oh goodie,' Estella replied acidly, with a flip of her head that caused her fringe to fall over her right eye. She pushed it out of the way with an irritated sigh. 'Why do we never visit nice, warm, hospitable worlds?'

'Probably because the universe hates us,' he replied with a wink.

'Hmmpf. And we're taking that old wreck why, when we have a whole fleet of the new Blackstar class?'

They stood on the gantry of the main hangar, staring down at the old ship lying in the dry dock. 'That old wreck suits this old wreck just fine, my girl. We've been through a lot together.' Hannibal placed his hands on the railing and leaned over to look at the ship, battle scarred and dented, the curving horns above her pointed prow giving her the look of a giant beetle. 'Our journey isn't over yet, is it, old girl?' he whispered.

In the bright lights of the hanger, he was the only one who noticed the faint nimbus that surrounded the old battleship, and curled in tiny wisps of blue smoke around his hands.