Moon Shadows Chapter 5
Crais' eyes remained fixed on the galley table, pretending to study a cartograph of the remaining havens' locations. He had purposely waited until the briefing ended and the others left to broach the subject. His words came across clipped, inflexible. "I intend to allow the constituents their preference in choosing ships for transport, so long as it can be done without disagreement. Elder Sabad and Elder Ensz will settle any disputes arising over assignments. Tenis and Mondo will pilot the Astras. Kristop, Emone and Vyett will take the Hawk."
It took a moment to sink in. "The hez they will," Ke'air yelled as he came to his feet. "Nimm should fly the Hawk with Moni and Yetti. And that second Astra is mine."
"You will fly the commercial airbus. It has the capacity to carry nearly half the population of this haven. I insist on having the most experienced pilot at its helm."
"Nimm is the best pilot in the haven. Have him fly the airbus. I'm a soldier."
"Shaving your head and wishing it *does not* make it so."
Ke'air leaned forward, his face denches away from Crais', his words hissed through clenched teeth. "No more than saying that you're sorry and have changed makes *you* any different."
The room fell silent. Crais dropped all pretense of reading the cartograph. His eyes rose slowly to meet Ke'air's. Finally, it was out in the open. The young man knew more than he had let on. Ke'air pushed off the table and stood silently facing out the window.
"What do you know?"
Ke'air turned to face him, his hands slung in his pockets. He shrugged and shook his head lightly, more embarrassed than angry. "That was my temper talking. I ask you to forget those words."
"*What* do you know?" His tone was no longer questioning.
"I know that you wear your past like a yoke and drag it behind you every microt of every day. What I know or don't know ain't going to change anything. Do you think that *Captain* Bialar Crais is the only one who ever made mistakes? We've all done things we're not proud of. It's what we do now that counts." He walked back and sat down, hunched forward with his elbows on the table. "I should be the one in that Astra. You owe me that much."
"I owe you nothing," Crais replied sharply. "We agreed the decisions would be made with the welfare of the constituents in mind. And in your case, that would be piloting the ship you are most familiar with."
"Toma put you up to this, didn't she?"
Crais waited a microt too long to answer.
"Nimm deserves the Hawk and you know it. Tenis should fly the airbus, Kristop the tanker."
"I have already made my choices known to the Elders. I believe they will support my decision. Nimm will fly the tanker. Regardless of his skill as a pilot, he is still only a boy. I will not allow it."
"You are wrong."
"No," Crais countered. "It was you who were wrong to pretend with me this whole time. Do the others know?"
"If you mean my sister . . . no."
"I mean *anyone*."
"What we discussed that night was between you and me. I will keep it that way."
"Whether you do or not has no bearing on my decision. You will fly the airbus. Nimm will-"
The door panel slid open and Toma stepped quickly inside, dripping wet and covered with mud. She stayed just inside the door, arms bowed away from her sides, staring down at the dirty water pooling around her feet. A quick glance at the two men was enough to put her on guard. "What? Is there something I should know?"
"Other than how to knock?" Crais asked brusquely.
Ke'air's caught her eye and gave his head a faint shake. She heeded the warning and waited, shivering, while her brother brought her a blanket. "I've come to give my report."
"The briefing was an arn ago."
"I was delayed," she replied curtly. "I had the misfortune of running into a grippant. Gib and Cam were too far away to hear me call out. I missed the rendezvous and had to wait for them to find me and cut off its ugly head." She raised her skirt and turned to reveal four red puncture wounds on the back of her calf, the skin around it bruised and swollen.
Crais quickly knelt to examine the wound. "What were you doing out there without a weapon?"
"You can't shoot a grippant while it's got a hold of you like that," Ke'air explained, his arm circling Toma's shoulders. "The mouth'll clamp shut and leave a hole the size of your fist . . . could bleed to death. You gotta slice through the jaw muscles on both sides at once and then lop off the head. It's a two person job."
"Venomous?" Crais asked.
Toma shook her head. "We didn't get all three hundred rhizomes like I planned. I was short about twenty. I can get them in the morning."
"You'll do no such thing," Crais answered before Ke'air had the chance. "Infecting the rhizomes around the havens will be sufficient. I'm still not satisfied that the risk of seeding the area around Shuleye-Shulah is one worth taking."
"We can talk about that when I come back. First I'll take Toma home and clean up her wound."
"We still have two days before the virus is delivered. Any discussion about the rhizomes can wait until tomorrow."
"It ain't the rhizomes I plan on discussing."
Somehow, Crais already knew that.
# # #
The pieces had begun to fall into place.
Each haven would make its own flight assignments, both civilian and military. While there were sufficient ships to accommodate the civilians, many of them were without hetch speed or shields . . . fish in a barrel once the Draegen caught up to them. As expected, the outer perimeter of havens had already begun to collapse at an accelerated rate. Crais knew they were running out of time.
He planned to divide his forces into three separate squadrons. Drekka Squadron, the largest, would attack the Draegen base on the far side of the planet, while Gammat Squadron engaged ships from the Draegen home world in the asteroid belt. The remaining ships of the Alphra Squadron would fly escort for the civilian fleet as it made its break for Tarn. He expected the Draegen to pursue them, how far was the only real question. The best he could hope for was an arns head start. In reality, he estimated less than half of that.
The Draegen were truly nothing more than Peacekeepers who made no pretense about serving their own interests. Everything hinged on whether they continued the attack once the civilian aircraft cleared Tah and Draegen airspace. While their species made no distinction between killing civilians or soldiers, they were fiercely territorial, a fact he was counting on.
His expected visitor arrived an arn later. He was somewhat surprised by the knock, a courtesy neither Ke'air nor Toma usually extended. Before he could answer, the door rattled open and Nimm went directly to the table. The boy slouched in a chair and began to bounce his threaded fingers lightly off the tabletop.
"My brother, we got to have us a talk."
"Perhaps tomorrow during the briefing would-"
"We're running out of tomorrows. You and me . . . we got to talk *now*."
"Very well." Crais took a seat across from him."
Nimm leaned halfway across the table. "I seen Ke'air taking Toma to get her leg looked after."
"Yes, I suspected as much."
"*Me*, Yetti and Moni are flying that Hawk."
"That is not your decision. It is mine," Crais sighed, his face pinched into a scowl. "Nimm, listen to me, you-"
"Don't you call me a boy . . . don't you do it. I'm the best frelling pilot in the haven and you know it."
"I do not dispute that. Flying the tanker is an important assignment. Fifty or sixty lives will be in your hands."
Nimm laughed and flopped back in the chair. "Bialar . . . where the hez you think that tanker's going with a hundred Firebugs on its tail?"
"That is why it is important that you-"
"No! What's important is that someone flies that Hawk who can give you a chance. The only thing the pilots in those transports can do is give it the juice and go like hez. They ain't gonna outmaneuver no Draeg Cruiser if one gets through, you know that."
Crais' voice was surprisingly soft. "You are a brave young man, Nimm. But I can not allow this."
Nimm hunched his shoulders forward over the table again. "Bialar, you got to stop thinking with this." He patted his chest with one hand and reached across to grasp Crais' arm. "You were once a Peacekeeper . . . a soldier. You got to start thinking that way again, my brother, just for a little longer. Ten million of my people are dead already. One more ain't gonna make no difference."
Crais hesitated before briefly covering Nimm's hand with his. "If your people survive, they will need young men such as yourself to rebuild this planet."
"But first they got to *survive*." Microts passed while he gave his next words a great deal of thought. "My mama and my sisters will be on one of those transport ships. I'm gonna do what needs to be done . . . for them. It's a man's right to die for his family, if that's what it takes. Ain't that so?"
Nimm took his lack of response as agreement and nodded as he stood.
"I will take what you've said under advisement," Crais replied.
Nimm stopped at the doorway and turned back, chewing absently at his bottom lip. "Ke'air is a brother to me. There ain't none better. He can fly that airbus with a bottle of slail under his belt and one eye closed."
The Sebacean eyed him curiously, without response.
"But he can't fly an Astra worth dren. Only been up twice, sub strata flights both times. He's more likely to crash it than get shot down."
He acknowledged with a slight nod. "Good night, Nimm."
# # #
Of all the soldiers he had ever known, Ke'air was one of the finest. Untrained. Uneducated. Yet, it was his steadfast pursuit of nothing more than a rumor that had given the Tah people this chance for survival. Crais smiled, remembering in the days following his arrival how the brother and sister had manipulated him to their service, their skill and cunning worthy of any Peacekeeper. Ke'air Masahje was indeed a soldier; however, he was not a fighter pilot.
Yes, he too would rather face the Draegen in a fight than running for his life. For the past two days he had examined the data. Never had the choice of sending men and women to their deaths weighed so heavily on him. Hate was an easier mantle.
As Elder Sabad's address to the constituents ended, Crais stood and approached the bar. From the corner of his eye he saw Ke'air with his arms folded, watching him intently from the doorway of the Dom. Since the night they first spoke of it, the flight assignments were a source of constant dispute between them. The decision he was about to announce would only make it worse.
"Most of you already know that the virus and vaccine were delivered yesterday. The rhizomes surrounding Anjeluh have been injected with the strain. Several hundred others were planted today outside of Shuleye- Shulah." He scanned the crowd until he located Neva Yaw, motioning her to stand. "Has everyone received the vaccine?"
"All but a few of the soldiers. They said it weren't necessary."
Crais let his gaze pan the soldiers, many whom were seated toward the front. He stopped momentarily at several of the faces whose names he would soon be announcing. "Everyone will receive the vaccine, regardless of assignment. Is that clear?" He clasped his hands behind him.
"Like virgin bathwater," Nimm called out, drawing a round of laughter.
Crais' bemused expression drew out the lighthearted moment, yet the silence that followed fell heavy and absolute. "Our fighters will launch at first light for their rendezvous points. Once in place, the Drekka squadron will focus their attack on the Draegen base at Mu'Lahr. Gammat squadron will lure what forces they can into the asteroid belt from both the planet here and the Draegen home world. The remaining squadron will fly escort for the civilian crafts."
"Nimm, Emone and Vyett will pilot the Hawk, which has been assigned to the escort squadron. Mondo Vess and Tenis Dauscho will join Drekka in the Astras."
"If you think you and that freller are gonna kill both my boys, you best think again," Press Dauscho shouted on approach to the bar.
It was Tenis who headed him off. "Papa, no! This is an honor . . . one that I deserve."
Crais did not interfere, instead considering what he had just heard. Press Dauscho aimed a threatening finger in his direction, to have it immediately knocked down by his son. Though not as stout, the younger, stronger man jostled his father back down the aisle way and directed him into his chair. He knelt alongside him, his whispered pleas meant to be private, yet many heard them.
"Tomorrow at daybreak," Crais shouted to make himself heard, "you must be aboard your assigned ship. I estimate a potential wait of up to three arns prior to launch, but you must *remain* aboard your assigned vessel and wait. Those of you who have purposely split your families must say your goodbyes prior to that. Is that understood?"
Words of acknowledgment rippled through the crowd, although many stared blankly or merely nodded.
"That's the way it's gotta be," Ke'air called out. "Once all the pieces fall in place, we're gonna go in a hurry. Any ship that ain't ready or causes a delay could mean the difference between living and dying for a lot of people."
The tears flowed freely now and an occasional sob sounded. Elder Sabad gave a nod to Crais as Grett helped him to his feet.
"There will be a final briefing for all pilots in my quarters in one arn," Crais said. Elders Sabad and Ensz will remain here for a while to answer any questions. Crais exited the Domicile with Toma on his arm. Ke'air stood to the side waiting for them, his expression surprisingly relaxed.
"Are you going to spend tonight with Moni?" she asked him.
He shrugged initially, but then nodded.
"Would you ask her to come to our home after the briefing, along with Yetti and Nimm? I've made some food . . . just for a while." She turned to Crais and pretended to straighten his collar. "And you will bring some wine?"
"He'll be there," Ke'air answered. "Bialar and I have a few things to go over before the briefing. Why don't you go home and finish packing our things."
She looked questioningly at Crais, who nodded. Behind them, the crowd had begun to filter out like mourners in a funeral procession. The two men strode confidently along the path, shoulder to shoulder. They dipped their heads in acknowledgement at every set of hollow eyes that sought them out for reassurance.
Upon reaching the hut, Crais latched the door behind them and spun around, prepared to defend himself. To his surprise, Ke'air had continued to the galley counter, pulled two bottles of nectar from the cold box and placed them on the table.
"I would prefer we did not drink prior to the briefing," Crais said, taking a seat.
Ke'air uncorked the first bottle and handed it across. "And I would prefer to be flying that Astra. But we don't always get what we want out of life, do we?"
"No, we do not."
"You just couldn't let me have it, could you? And yet you did right by Nimm."
"I *did right* by you as well, and I believe you know it."
Ke'air tipped the nectar until it was half gone and then swirled the brown glass bottle, staring absently as the liquid sloshed around inside. He smacked the bottle on the table and stared hard at Crais for a microt. "I *do* believe you, Bialar. I believe everything you told me."
Crais sipped the nectar and returned a curious look. "Which is where you still have me at a disadvantage. You never said how much you knew."
"I reckon I know it all."
"I assure you, you do not," Crais answered with half a smile.
"What don't I know about? Your brother Tauvo? Talyn? Crichton? Or maybe how you lost your command? What is it you think you didn't tell me?"
"I am . . . surprised that I shared this information."
Ke'air regarded him amiably. "You have ached to tell someone these things for a long time, only you had no one to listen. Talyn knew, but he was too young to understand, or forgive. The prisoners at Ruebonn, the Hynerians . . . Teeg."
It felt like being in the chair again, his soul stripped naked for examination, for judgment. And yet there was truth in what Ke'air said. While the chair had ripped the past from within him, he had never voluntarily admitted . . . confessed to these deeds until now. He nodded. "You hid it well. I never saw it in your face."
"I hid nothing. I don't judge you." Ke'air hunkered forward. "I've only told this to one other man and he was too drunk to remember."
Crais cocked his head a bit, his brow elevated in an expression the young Tah had come to know well.
"Breck Dauscho's death was no accident. I killed him on purpose. He was defenseless, unable to lift a finger. I crushed his skull because I could and because I wanted to. Then I lied, pretending it was an accident to save myself. It's been ten cycles now, and every day, I still lie."
"He is Press Dauscho's son? It would have been helpful to know that."
"Yes, Tenis' birth partner. And I *did* tell you."
Crais lightly shook his head, remembering why he seldom drank. "It was only one man," he replied in an effort to dismiss the incident.
"One man? I wasn't raised a Peacekeeper like you, Bialar. I knew the right path all along. Press Dauscho was once a friend of my mama and papa. It was the shame of what I done that killed them, the Draeg only finished the job."
"I'm sure they would be proud of what you're doing now," Crais replied.
He shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow I'll get a chance to redeem myself, like you and Talyn did aboard the command carrier."
The Sebacean's eyes remained fixed on the tabletop as he wondered if there was any end to what he had revealed that night. After a few microts, Ke'air broke the silence, his tone surprisingly lighter. "So tell me, how long have you been sleeping with my sister?"
The bottle of nectar that was halfway to Crais' lips stopped in midair.
"Don't you lie to me either, cause I already know better."
"You are aware of my past and yet you would allow this?"
He laughed. "You know my sister better than that. But I wouldn't have tried to stop it, even if I could."
There seemed little point in denying it. "Although our time together has been brief, it is special to me." Crais' features softened as he spoke of her. "Toma sees me through eyes that have not witnessed the atrocities I've committed. No other woman has viewed me that way before, not as commander or as enemy. I told you once that she was adequate. In truth, she is extraordinary."
"Someday you'll tell her of your past and I promise you, she'll see you no differently."
Crais tensed visibly at the thought.
"If we are successful, what're your plans once you reach Tarn?" Ke'air asked.
"My plans have not changed. I intend to reclaim the life that was taken from me."
"What life you talking about, my brother?" He drained the last of the nectar and banged the bottle down. "There ain't nothing in your past worth going back to. Forward . . . that's the direction you should be headed."
"My parents were farmers. Of course, you probably *knew* that."
"And my papa was a fisherman," Ke'air replied, sliding his chair back to stand. "But that was my papa, not me. And you ain't no farmer." He moved toward the door, pausing halfway to speak over his shoulder. "I've got a few goodbyes to make before the briefing."
Crais' eyes remained fixed on the galley table, pretending to study a cartograph of the remaining havens' locations. He had purposely waited until the briefing ended and the others left to broach the subject. His words came across clipped, inflexible. "I intend to allow the constituents their preference in choosing ships for transport, so long as it can be done without disagreement. Elder Sabad and Elder Ensz will settle any disputes arising over assignments. Tenis and Mondo will pilot the Astras. Kristop, Emone and Vyett will take the Hawk."
It took a moment to sink in. "The hez they will," Ke'air yelled as he came to his feet. "Nimm should fly the Hawk with Moni and Yetti. And that second Astra is mine."
"You will fly the commercial airbus. It has the capacity to carry nearly half the population of this haven. I insist on having the most experienced pilot at its helm."
"Nimm is the best pilot in the haven. Have him fly the airbus. I'm a soldier."
"Shaving your head and wishing it *does not* make it so."
Ke'air leaned forward, his face denches away from Crais', his words hissed through clenched teeth. "No more than saying that you're sorry and have changed makes *you* any different."
The room fell silent. Crais dropped all pretense of reading the cartograph. His eyes rose slowly to meet Ke'air's. Finally, it was out in the open. The young man knew more than he had let on. Ke'air pushed off the table and stood silently facing out the window.
"What do you know?"
Ke'air turned to face him, his hands slung in his pockets. He shrugged and shook his head lightly, more embarrassed than angry. "That was my temper talking. I ask you to forget those words."
"*What* do you know?" His tone was no longer questioning.
"I know that you wear your past like a yoke and drag it behind you every microt of every day. What I know or don't know ain't going to change anything. Do you think that *Captain* Bialar Crais is the only one who ever made mistakes? We've all done things we're not proud of. It's what we do now that counts." He walked back and sat down, hunched forward with his elbows on the table. "I should be the one in that Astra. You owe me that much."
"I owe you nothing," Crais replied sharply. "We agreed the decisions would be made with the welfare of the constituents in mind. And in your case, that would be piloting the ship you are most familiar with."
"Toma put you up to this, didn't she?"
Crais waited a microt too long to answer.
"Nimm deserves the Hawk and you know it. Tenis should fly the airbus, Kristop the tanker."
"I have already made my choices known to the Elders. I believe they will support my decision. Nimm will fly the tanker. Regardless of his skill as a pilot, he is still only a boy. I will not allow it."
"You are wrong."
"No," Crais countered. "It was you who were wrong to pretend with me this whole time. Do the others know?"
"If you mean my sister . . . no."
"I mean *anyone*."
"What we discussed that night was between you and me. I will keep it that way."
"Whether you do or not has no bearing on my decision. You will fly the airbus. Nimm will-"
The door panel slid open and Toma stepped quickly inside, dripping wet and covered with mud. She stayed just inside the door, arms bowed away from her sides, staring down at the dirty water pooling around her feet. A quick glance at the two men was enough to put her on guard. "What? Is there something I should know?"
"Other than how to knock?" Crais asked brusquely.
Ke'air's caught her eye and gave his head a faint shake. She heeded the warning and waited, shivering, while her brother brought her a blanket. "I've come to give my report."
"The briefing was an arn ago."
"I was delayed," she replied curtly. "I had the misfortune of running into a grippant. Gib and Cam were too far away to hear me call out. I missed the rendezvous and had to wait for them to find me and cut off its ugly head." She raised her skirt and turned to reveal four red puncture wounds on the back of her calf, the skin around it bruised and swollen.
Crais quickly knelt to examine the wound. "What were you doing out there without a weapon?"
"You can't shoot a grippant while it's got a hold of you like that," Ke'air explained, his arm circling Toma's shoulders. "The mouth'll clamp shut and leave a hole the size of your fist . . . could bleed to death. You gotta slice through the jaw muscles on both sides at once and then lop off the head. It's a two person job."
"Venomous?" Crais asked.
Toma shook her head. "We didn't get all three hundred rhizomes like I planned. I was short about twenty. I can get them in the morning."
"You'll do no such thing," Crais answered before Ke'air had the chance. "Infecting the rhizomes around the havens will be sufficient. I'm still not satisfied that the risk of seeding the area around Shuleye-Shulah is one worth taking."
"We can talk about that when I come back. First I'll take Toma home and clean up her wound."
"We still have two days before the virus is delivered. Any discussion about the rhizomes can wait until tomorrow."
"It ain't the rhizomes I plan on discussing."
Somehow, Crais already knew that.
# # #
The pieces had begun to fall into place.
Each haven would make its own flight assignments, both civilian and military. While there were sufficient ships to accommodate the civilians, many of them were without hetch speed or shields . . . fish in a barrel once the Draegen caught up to them. As expected, the outer perimeter of havens had already begun to collapse at an accelerated rate. Crais knew they were running out of time.
He planned to divide his forces into three separate squadrons. Drekka Squadron, the largest, would attack the Draegen base on the far side of the planet, while Gammat Squadron engaged ships from the Draegen home world in the asteroid belt. The remaining ships of the Alphra Squadron would fly escort for the civilian fleet as it made its break for Tarn. He expected the Draegen to pursue them, how far was the only real question. The best he could hope for was an arns head start. In reality, he estimated less than half of that.
The Draegen were truly nothing more than Peacekeepers who made no pretense about serving their own interests. Everything hinged on whether they continued the attack once the civilian aircraft cleared Tah and Draegen airspace. While their species made no distinction between killing civilians or soldiers, they were fiercely territorial, a fact he was counting on.
His expected visitor arrived an arn later. He was somewhat surprised by the knock, a courtesy neither Ke'air nor Toma usually extended. Before he could answer, the door rattled open and Nimm went directly to the table. The boy slouched in a chair and began to bounce his threaded fingers lightly off the tabletop.
"My brother, we got to have us a talk."
"Perhaps tomorrow during the briefing would-"
"We're running out of tomorrows. You and me . . . we got to talk *now*."
"Very well." Crais took a seat across from him."
Nimm leaned halfway across the table. "I seen Ke'air taking Toma to get her leg looked after."
"Yes, I suspected as much."
"*Me*, Yetti and Moni are flying that Hawk."
"That is not your decision. It is mine," Crais sighed, his face pinched into a scowl. "Nimm, listen to me, you-"
"Don't you call me a boy . . . don't you do it. I'm the best frelling pilot in the haven and you know it."
"I do not dispute that. Flying the tanker is an important assignment. Fifty or sixty lives will be in your hands."
Nimm laughed and flopped back in the chair. "Bialar . . . where the hez you think that tanker's going with a hundred Firebugs on its tail?"
"That is why it is important that you-"
"No! What's important is that someone flies that Hawk who can give you a chance. The only thing the pilots in those transports can do is give it the juice and go like hez. They ain't gonna outmaneuver no Draeg Cruiser if one gets through, you know that."
Crais' voice was surprisingly soft. "You are a brave young man, Nimm. But I can not allow this."
Nimm hunched his shoulders forward over the table again. "Bialar, you got to stop thinking with this." He patted his chest with one hand and reached across to grasp Crais' arm. "You were once a Peacekeeper . . . a soldier. You got to start thinking that way again, my brother, just for a little longer. Ten million of my people are dead already. One more ain't gonna make no difference."
Crais hesitated before briefly covering Nimm's hand with his. "If your people survive, they will need young men such as yourself to rebuild this planet."
"But first they got to *survive*." Microts passed while he gave his next words a great deal of thought. "My mama and my sisters will be on one of those transport ships. I'm gonna do what needs to be done . . . for them. It's a man's right to die for his family, if that's what it takes. Ain't that so?"
Nimm took his lack of response as agreement and nodded as he stood.
"I will take what you've said under advisement," Crais replied.
Nimm stopped at the doorway and turned back, chewing absently at his bottom lip. "Ke'air is a brother to me. There ain't none better. He can fly that airbus with a bottle of slail under his belt and one eye closed."
The Sebacean eyed him curiously, without response.
"But he can't fly an Astra worth dren. Only been up twice, sub strata flights both times. He's more likely to crash it than get shot down."
He acknowledged with a slight nod. "Good night, Nimm."
# # #
Of all the soldiers he had ever known, Ke'air was one of the finest. Untrained. Uneducated. Yet, it was his steadfast pursuit of nothing more than a rumor that had given the Tah people this chance for survival. Crais smiled, remembering in the days following his arrival how the brother and sister had manipulated him to their service, their skill and cunning worthy of any Peacekeeper. Ke'air Masahje was indeed a soldier; however, he was not a fighter pilot.
Yes, he too would rather face the Draegen in a fight than running for his life. For the past two days he had examined the data. Never had the choice of sending men and women to their deaths weighed so heavily on him. Hate was an easier mantle.
As Elder Sabad's address to the constituents ended, Crais stood and approached the bar. From the corner of his eye he saw Ke'air with his arms folded, watching him intently from the doorway of the Dom. Since the night they first spoke of it, the flight assignments were a source of constant dispute between them. The decision he was about to announce would only make it worse.
"Most of you already know that the virus and vaccine were delivered yesterday. The rhizomes surrounding Anjeluh have been injected with the strain. Several hundred others were planted today outside of Shuleye- Shulah." He scanned the crowd until he located Neva Yaw, motioning her to stand. "Has everyone received the vaccine?"
"All but a few of the soldiers. They said it weren't necessary."
Crais let his gaze pan the soldiers, many whom were seated toward the front. He stopped momentarily at several of the faces whose names he would soon be announcing. "Everyone will receive the vaccine, regardless of assignment. Is that clear?" He clasped his hands behind him.
"Like virgin bathwater," Nimm called out, drawing a round of laughter.
Crais' bemused expression drew out the lighthearted moment, yet the silence that followed fell heavy and absolute. "Our fighters will launch at first light for their rendezvous points. Once in place, the Drekka squadron will focus their attack on the Draegen base at Mu'Lahr. Gammat squadron will lure what forces they can into the asteroid belt from both the planet here and the Draegen home world. The remaining squadron will fly escort for the civilian crafts."
"Nimm, Emone and Vyett will pilot the Hawk, which has been assigned to the escort squadron. Mondo Vess and Tenis Dauscho will join Drekka in the Astras."
"If you think you and that freller are gonna kill both my boys, you best think again," Press Dauscho shouted on approach to the bar.
It was Tenis who headed him off. "Papa, no! This is an honor . . . one that I deserve."
Crais did not interfere, instead considering what he had just heard. Press Dauscho aimed a threatening finger in his direction, to have it immediately knocked down by his son. Though not as stout, the younger, stronger man jostled his father back down the aisle way and directed him into his chair. He knelt alongside him, his whispered pleas meant to be private, yet many heard them.
"Tomorrow at daybreak," Crais shouted to make himself heard, "you must be aboard your assigned ship. I estimate a potential wait of up to three arns prior to launch, but you must *remain* aboard your assigned vessel and wait. Those of you who have purposely split your families must say your goodbyes prior to that. Is that understood?"
Words of acknowledgment rippled through the crowd, although many stared blankly or merely nodded.
"That's the way it's gotta be," Ke'air called out. "Once all the pieces fall in place, we're gonna go in a hurry. Any ship that ain't ready or causes a delay could mean the difference between living and dying for a lot of people."
The tears flowed freely now and an occasional sob sounded. Elder Sabad gave a nod to Crais as Grett helped him to his feet.
"There will be a final briefing for all pilots in my quarters in one arn," Crais said. Elders Sabad and Ensz will remain here for a while to answer any questions. Crais exited the Domicile with Toma on his arm. Ke'air stood to the side waiting for them, his expression surprisingly relaxed.
"Are you going to spend tonight with Moni?" she asked him.
He shrugged initially, but then nodded.
"Would you ask her to come to our home after the briefing, along with Yetti and Nimm? I've made some food . . . just for a while." She turned to Crais and pretended to straighten his collar. "And you will bring some wine?"
"He'll be there," Ke'air answered. "Bialar and I have a few things to go over before the briefing. Why don't you go home and finish packing our things."
She looked questioningly at Crais, who nodded. Behind them, the crowd had begun to filter out like mourners in a funeral procession. The two men strode confidently along the path, shoulder to shoulder. They dipped their heads in acknowledgement at every set of hollow eyes that sought them out for reassurance.
Upon reaching the hut, Crais latched the door behind them and spun around, prepared to defend himself. To his surprise, Ke'air had continued to the galley counter, pulled two bottles of nectar from the cold box and placed them on the table.
"I would prefer we did not drink prior to the briefing," Crais said, taking a seat.
Ke'air uncorked the first bottle and handed it across. "And I would prefer to be flying that Astra. But we don't always get what we want out of life, do we?"
"No, we do not."
"You just couldn't let me have it, could you? And yet you did right by Nimm."
"I *did right* by you as well, and I believe you know it."
Ke'air tipped the nectar until it was half gone and then swirled the brown glass bottle, staring absently as the liquid sloshed around inside. He smacked the bottle on the table and stared hard at Crais for a microt. "I *do* believe you, Bialar. I believe everything you told me."
Crais sipped the nectar and returned a curious look. "Which is where you still have me at a disadvantage. You never said how much you knew."
"I reckon I know it all."
"I assure you, you do not," Crais answered with half a smile.
"What don't I know about? Your brother Tauvo? Talyn? Crichton? Or maybe how you lost your command? What is it you think you didn't tell me?"
"I am . . . surprised that I shared this information."
Ke'air regarded him amiably. "You have ached to tell someone these things for a long time, only you had no one to listen. Talyn knew, but he was too young to understand, or forgive. The prisoners at Ruebonn, the Hynerians . . . Teeg."
It felt like being in the chair again, his soul stripped naked for examination, for judgment. And yet there was truth in what Ke'air said. While the chair had ripped the past from within him, he had never voluntarily admitted . . . confessed to these deeds until now. He nodded. "You hid it well. I never saw it in your face."
"I hid nothing. I don't judge you." Ke'air hunkered forward. "I've only told this to one other man and he was too drunk to remember."
Crais cocked his head a bit, his brow elevated in an expression the young Tah had come to know well.
"Breck Dauscho's death was no accident. I killed him on purpose. He was defenseless, unable to lift a finger. I crushed his skull because I could and because I wanted to. Then I lied, pretending it was an accident to save myself. It's been ten cycles now, and every day, I still lie."
"He is Press Dauscho's son? It would have been helpful to know that."
"Yes, Tenis' birth partner. And I *did* tell you."
Crais lightly shook his head, remembering why he seldom drank. "It was only one man," he replied in an effort to dismiss the incident.
"One man? I wasn't raised a Peacekeeper like you, Bialar. I knew the right path all along. Press Dauscho was once a friend of my mama and papa. It was the shame of what I done that killed them, the Draeg only finished the job."
"I'm sure they would be proud of what you're doing now," Crais replied.
He shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow I'll get a chance to redeem myself, like you and Talyn did aboard the command carrier."
The Sebacean's eyes remained fixed on the tabletop as he wondered if there was any end to what he had revealed that night. After a few microts, Ke'air broke the silence, his tone surprisingly lighter. "So tell me, how long have you been sleeping with my sister?"
The bottle of nectar that was halfway to Crais' lips stopped in midair.
"Don't you lie to me either, cause I already know better."
"You are aware of my past and yet you would allow this?"
He laughed. "You know my sister better than that. But I wouldn't have tried to stop it, even if I could."
There seemed little point in denying it. "Although our time together has been brief, it is special to me." Crais' features softened as he spoke of her. "Toma sees me through eyes that have not witnessed the atrocities I've committed. No other woman has viewed me that way before, not as commander or as enemy. I told you once that she was adequate. In truth, she is extraordinary."
"Someday you'll tell her of your past and I promise you, she'll see you no differently."
Crais tensed visibly at the thought.
"If we are successful, what're your plans once you reach Tarn?" Ke'air asked.
"My plans have not changed. I intend to reclaim the life that was taken from me."
"What life you talking about, my brother?" He drained the last of the nectar and banged the bottle down. "There ain't nothing in your past worth going back to. Forward . . . that's the direction you should be headed."
"My parents were farmers. Of course, you probably *knew* that."
"And my papa was a fisherman," Ke'air replied, sliding his chair back to stand. "But that was my papa, not me. And you ain't no farmer." He moved toward the door, pausing halfway to speak over his shoulder. "I've got a few goodbyes to make before the briefing."