Char sat in his cabin, working. He'd been given a small officer's room, with a bunk, desk, wardrobe and window looking out on space. It was all he needed; he'd taken off his tunic and hung it neatly in the wardrobe, along with the sweaty spacesuit he'd been wearing during his last fight with Amuro Rey.
So Char was as physically comfortable as he could be, in a plain white t-shirt, a glass of scotch begged from Kishiria's lady-in-waiting on the table. He was writing condolence letters for the families of soldiers under his command. It was a boring, depressing task, but it had to be done, and by him. He had always made it a point to know his troops as well as possible, and while the letter itself was a form, he added what remarks he could.
When he came to Dren, he had to stop for a while. He'd been his right-hand man all through the war, eventually earning a command of his own. He'd been a good comrade, and left behind a wife and three--no, four--kids. There'd be a pension waiting for all of them, but he'd always invited Char to family barbecues to be held after war's end, and Char had looked forward to them.
Char stood and went to the window to look out at the stars. He sipped his whiskey and was glad Lalla had no family. He still didn't know what he'd felt for her. Love, certainly, but what kind? He'd never had a chance to figure out if his feelings for her were merely protective, or those of a friend, or those of a man for a woman. Yet sometimes, when he'd talked to her alone, looking into those enormous green eyes, he'd felt that he was the one being nurtured and protected in the relationship, and that she was the one who was somehow parental towards him.
His head hurt and he curled up on the bed with a pillow in his arms. Thank god Kishiria had decided there was no fighting out of this. Dozel would have tried. Garma would have tried. Giren would have pulled another doomsday weapon out of his pocket, perhaps destroying the whole kingdom rather than risking the Federation having it. Kishiria was definitely the cleverest Zabi of the lot, and if they were going to negotiate for their survival, she was the best one for the job.
He squeezed the pillow tighter. Flexibility was a good thing for an exiled prince bent on revenge, but he felt about to twist apart. He'd come so close to his objective of eradicating the Zabis, even if he hadn't any idea of what he'd do next. Retire quietly under a new name, probably. He had the money. Technically, that was still an option. Still, Char felt that that would be wrong. His duty was to his father's memory and to his people. Both would be served best by his staying by Kishiria, who had become part of both. How ironic could life get?
He fell asleep and found himself lying on the soft grass of a hilly meadow. He was in uniform still, with his tunic unzipped and his head on Lalla's lap. She pressed a hand onto his chest when he tried to sit up.
"Am I dead too?" he asked.
"Silly, there is no real death," Lalla told him with a smile. "Especially for us New Types who've already formed a bond. We might lose our bodies, but we're still around for each other. I'm going to take care of you, even though you won't always see me. Today I'm here to introduce you to someone."
"Who?"
"Him." Lalla leaned back so Char could sit up.
Standing across the grass was a tall man with light brown hair and beard. He was regarding Char thoughtfully with deep-set blue eyes full of wisdom.
Char blinked unbelievably. "Papa..."
Father and son came together in an embrace. Char's whole body was racked with sobs and Jion Deykun's arms tightened around him.
"I'm sorry, Papa, I'm sorry I've been such a bad son, I'm sorry I---"
Jion Deykun took Char's face in his hands. "You've done the best with what you could, Casval, and I'm proud of you. Jinba Ral was wrong in what he did to you and your sister, and he'll have to pay for that. Don't think about murdering him," Jion warned, having picked up on Char's thought. "Revenge is what got us unto this whole mess. Building alliances is what will get us out. Now, I understand that you've given me a grandson."
"I know I should have been more responsible."
"No, not at all! I was hoping that at least one of you kids would end up with a Zabi." He took Char's hand and they started strolling. "The cultivation of the New Types is the only thing to concern yourself with now. I wrote that New Types would inherit space, and I stand by that. The only thing I fear is that this will become humanity's new race hatred, that on Earth New Types will be persecuted and in space they'll rule on the backs of Old Types. That can't be allowed to happen."
"I won't let it, Papa. Should we live separately in peace?"
"Look up the phrases 'separate but equal' and 'apartheid'. You'll find them enlightening. The two Types have to live together because...well, I'll let you and that wife of yours figure it out."
"Wife?"
Jion Deykun patted his shoulder. "Do the honourable thing, son, and not just because that grandson of mine will need a father. Without you, Kishiria's too close to being like an Indian mother-goddess."
"What's wrong with that?"
Lalla came up behind him. "Right now, she's like Durga, bringer of life. She wanted a baby, she got one. She's feeling conciliatory now, benevolent. She can afford to; she has no army and few other options. But she will. When that happens, she'll need your influence on her. Otherwise, she turns into the other side of the Mother."
"What's that?" Char asked.
"Kali," Lalla answered, and then Char's telephone rang.
He sprang upright and grabbed it. There were tears running down his cheeks and he wiped them as he answered.
"Hello?"
"Colonel Aznable, this is Margaret Ring Blair, the queen''s secretary. Her Majesty would like you to join her for dinner, if you would."
"Of course. What time?"
"19h00."
"I'll be there." He hung up and reached for the glass of scotch, which was still half-full. He sipped at it quietly, settling his jangled nerves. Things were moving awfully fast, and he wasn't quite sure how to assimilate it all. In 24 hours he'd found out his whole life was based on a lie, that he was going to be a father, and that if he didn't marry Kishiria Zabi she'd destroy the universe.
He sighed. Well, if there was anything he was good at, it was following orders. If Lalla and his father wanted him to marry Kishiria and save all of humanity, who was he to argue. No pressure, right?
Just before seven, he arrived at the door of Kishiria's quarters. Maria let him in, holding a finger to her lips to indicate quiet.
"She's fallen asleep," Maria explained. "I didn't call you to cancel because she needs to discuss some things with you. She's also upset about something she saw on the news. Here, I'll show you."
She brought Char over to the television and turned it on with the sound on low. He had to wait a few minutes for the footage on the all-news station to repeat, but there it was. The captured base of Solomon had been renamed and was being used by the Federation to house personnel who had lost their ships before shipping them back to Earth. The disturbing piece showed Federation soldiers in what had once been Dozel Zabi's enormous quarters there, There was one particularly obnoxious sort, identified as Kai Shiden, who was saying to the camera, "Hey! I'm jumping on Dozel Zabi's bed! I'm flushing Dozel Zabi's toilet! I'm petting Dozel Zabi's dog--OW!" The footage ended as the Irish wolfhound registered its own protest.
"I can see why she's upset," Char agreed. "That's quite a violation there." He stood up. "I'll go check on her for you."
Char carefully opened the door to the bedroom. Kishira was curled up facing away from him. She was snoring softly and the clothes lying carefully over a chair suggested that she was under the covers in undershirt and briefs. Char settled on the bed slowly and looked at her. He repeated her name in his mind for a minute or so until Kishiria "heard" him and opened her eyes.
"Oh. What time is it?"
"19h05."
"Sorry about that. I'm just feeling rotten."
"Maria showed me this news story--"
"That pushed me over the edge," Kishiria snapped. "I had to hide for a while after that. What a thing to show, with Zena still alive."
"Since when has the media ever cared about the families of the dead?"
"True." Kishiria sat up in bed and hugged her knees. "I'm so tired, and things haven't even started to get hairy. My page Hamaan Khan called me from Jion. The Federal government responded to my condolences about General Reville. They sent a lovely flower arrangement with condolences of their own for the death of my father and a polite request for me to surrender."
"How sweet."
"General Delaz is willing to negotiate, though, and we're handling that by radio. So that's something. Also, I've signed the papers promoting you to Brigadier General. Congratulations."
"Thank you. How are you doing otherwise?"
She pressed her hand to her mouth. "Acid stomach, and I can't take medicine for it. I'd hate being pregnant if I weren't so excited about it."
"Really? You're happy about this? I wasn't sure if you just did this purely out of Zabi cold-bloodedness."
"I've always wanted kids. If I could combine dynastic politics with something I wanted, I figured it would be a win-win situation. Besides, amidst all this death, a lot of which I've caused directly, it's nice to know I can bring life as well as destroy it."
Char remembered Lalla's words and suppressed a shiver.
"I've also been pondering my new status as a New Type," Kishiria went on. "There's all this noise now, I don't know if you hear it. Voices in my head, like a conversation you hear through a wall."
"I've never had that problem. You might be more sensitive than I am. Talk to Dr. Flanagan when we get back to Side 3."
"We'll be there by tomorrow morning. I don't think I'll have a chance to see him right away. My agenda's already full. Well, this is what happens when you're a monarch who doesn't foist duties off on the local megalomaniac." Kishiria turned on the light and got out of bed, reaching for her pants. "Come on. Let's have a quiet dinner and pretend that we're normal people. It might be our last chance for a while."
They had a peaceful and pleasant dinner, after which they decided to be indulgent and ignore the war for a few hours. Kishiria wanted to experiment with her newfound abilities, but Char talked her out of it, insisting that she should let her brain rest for the evening. It wasn't difficult for him to find an activity that successfully distracted her.
The next morning, they made landfall. Kishiria rose from bed and left Char sleeping as she dressed and went up to the bridge. As the Zum City cylinder loomed larger and larger through the windows, she raised a hand to her forehead and winced. More minds meant more noise in her head. She didn't want to shut them out; they were her people after all. She relaxed for a moment, closed her eyes to welcome them, and was rewarded by an anxiety attack that knocked her back into her seat.
"Ma'am?" one of the bridge officers was immediately at her side.
"I'm fine," she assured him. "Headache."
Minds, pressing in on her, asserting their presence, shouting their everyday thoughts, all completely unaware that she could hear them. Kishiria gritted her teeth. What could she do?
Kishiria had heard something once about visualizing things in order to control New Type powers. She closed her eyes and pictured a radio receiver, then a remote in her hand. She visualized the remote in as much detail as she could, from the smooth feeling of the plastic in her hand to the roundness of the buttons under her thumb. She pressed "mute" on the remote and the noise vanished. She smiled. Her first sign of control as a New Type.
Kishiria watched as they docked, feeling excited, hopeful, and nervous all at once. She didn't think for a second that she'd really been born for this but with a little luck, no one would ever know.
So Char was as physically comfortable as he could be, in a plain white t-shirt, a glass of scotch begged from Kishiria's lady-in-waiting on the table. He was writing condolence letters for the families of soldiers under his command. It was a boring, depressing task, but it had to be done, and by him. He had always made it a point to know his troops as well as possible, and while the letter itself was a form, he added what remarks he could.
When he came to Dren, he had to stop for a while. He'd been his right-hand man all through the war, eventually earning a command of his own. He'd been a good comrade, and left behind a wife and three--no, four--kids. There'd be a pension waiting for all of them, but he'd always invited Char to family barbecues to be held after war's end, and Char had looked forward to them.
Char stood and went to the window to look out at the stars. He sipped his whiskey and was glad Lalla had no family. He still didn't know what he'd felt for her. Love, certainly, but what kind? He'd never had a chance to figure out if his feelings for her were merely protective, or those of a friend, or those of a man for a woman. Yet sometimes, when he'd talked to her alone, looking into those enormous green eyes, he'd felt that he was the one being nurtured and protected in the relationship, and that she was the one who was somehow parental towards him.
His head hurt and he curled up on the bed with a pillow in his arms. Thank god Kishiria had decided there was no fighting out of this. Dozel would have tried. Garma would have tried. Giren would have pulled another doomsday weapon out of his pocket, perhaps destroying the whole kingdom rather than risking the Federation having it. Kishiria was definitely the cleverest Zabi of the lot, and if they were going to negotiate for their survival, she was the best one for the job.
He squeezed the pillow tighter. Flexibility was a good thing for an exiled prince bent on revenge, but he felt about to twist apart. He'd come so close to his objective of eradicating the Zabis, even if he hadn't any idea of what he'd do next. Retire quietly under a new name, probably. He had the money. Technically, that was still an option. Still, Char felt that that would be wrong. His duty was to his father's memory and to his people. Both would be served best by his staying by Kishiria, who had become part of both. How ironic could life get?
He fell asleep and found himself lying on the soft grass of a hilly meadow. He was in uniform still, with his tunic unzipped and his head on Lalla's lap. She pressed a hand onto his chest when he tried to sit up.
"Am I dead too?" he asked.
"Silly, there is no real death," Lalla told him with a smile. "Especially for us New Types who've already formed a bond. We might lose our bodies, but we're still around for each other. I'm going to take care of you, even though you won't always see me. Today I'm here to introduce you to someone."
"Who?"
"Him." Lalla leaned back so Char could sit up.
Standing across the grass was a tall man with light brown hair and beard. He was regarding Char thoughtfully with deep-set blue eyes full of wisdom.
Char blinked unbelievably. "Papa..."
Father and son came together in an embrace. Char's whole body was racked with sobs and Jion Deykun's arms tightened around him.
"I'm sorry, Papa, I'm sorry I've been such a bad son, I'm sorry I---"
Jion Deykun took Char's face in his hands. "You've done the best with what you could, Casval, and I'm proud of you. Jinba Ral was wrong in what he did to you and your sister, and he'll have to pay for that. Don't think about murdering him," Jion warned, having picked up on Char's thought. "Revenge is what got us unto this whole mess. Building alliances is what will get us out. Now, I understand that you've given me a grandson."
"I know I should have been more responsible."
"No, not at all! I was hoping that at least one of you kids would end up with a Zabi." He took Char's hand and they started strolling. "The cultivation of the New Types is the only thing to concern yourself with now. I wrote that New Types would inherit space, and I stand by that. The only thing I fear is that this will become humanity's new race hatred, that on Earth New Types will be persecuted and in space they'll rule on the backs of Old Types. That can't be allowed to happen."
"I won't let it, Papa. Should we live separately in peace?"
"Look up the phrases 'separate but equal' and 'apartheid'. You'll find them enlightening. The two Types have to live together because...well, I'll let you and that wife of yours figure it out."
"Wife?"
Jion Deykun patted his shoulder. "Do the honourable thing, son, and not just because that grandson of mine will need a father. Without you, Kishiria's too close to being like an Indian mother-goddess."
"What's wrong with that?"
Lalla came up behind him. "Right now, she's like Durga, bringer of life. She wanted a baby, she got one. She's feeling conciliatory now, benevolent. She can afford to; she has no army and few other options. But she will. When that happens, she'll need your influence on her. Otherwise, she turns into the other side of the Mother."
"What's that?" Char asked.
"Kali," Lalla answered, and then Char's telephone rang.
He sprang upright and grabbed it. There were tears running down his cheeks and he wiped them as he answered.
"Hello?"
"Colonel Aznable, this is Margaret Ring Blair, the queen''s secretary. Her Majesty would like you to join her for dinner, if you would."
"Of course. What time?"
"19h00."
"I'll be there." He hung up and reached for the glass of scotch, which was still half-full. He sipped at it quietly, settling his jangled nerves. Things were moving awfully fast, and he wasn't quite sure how to assimilate it all. In 24 hours he'd found out his whole life was based on a lie, that he was going to be a father, and that if he didn't marry Kishiria Zabi she'd destroy the universe.
He sighed. Well, if there was anything he was good at, it was following orders. If Lalla and his father wanted him to marry Kishiria and save all of humanity, who was he to argue. No pressure, right?
Just before seven, he arrived at the door of Kishiria's quarters. Maria let him in, holding a finger to her lips to indicate quiet.
"She's fallen asleep," Maria explained. "I didn't call you to cancel because she needs to discuss some things with you. She's also upset about something she saw on the news. Here, I'll show you."
She brought Char over to the television and turned it on with the sound on low. He had to wait a few minutes for the footage on the all-news station to repeat, but there it was. The captured base of Solomon had been renamed and was being used by the Federation to house personnel who had lost their ships before shipping them back to Earth. The disturbing piece showed Federation soldiers in what had once been Dozel Zabi's enormous quarters there, There was one particularly obnoxious sort, identified as Kai Shiden, who was saying to the camera, "Hey! I'm jumping on Dozel Zabi's bed! I'm flushing Dozel Zabi's toilet! I'm petting Dozel Zabi's dog--OW!" The footage ended as the Irish wolfhound registered its own protest.
"I can see why she's upset," Char agreed. "That's quite a violation there." He stood up. "I'll go check on her for you."
Char carefully opened the door to the bedroom. Kishira was curled up facing away from him. She was snoring softly and the clothes lying carefully over a chair suggested that she was under the covers in undershirt and briefs. Char settled on the bed slowly and looked at her. He repeated her name in his mind for a minute or so until Kishiria "heard" him and opened her eyes.
"Oh. What time is it?"
"19h05."
"Sorry about that. I'm just feeling rotten."
"Maria showed me this news story--"
"That pushed me over the edge," Kishiria snapped. "I had to hide for a while after that. What a thing to show, with Zena still alive."
"Since when has the media ever cared about the families of the dead?"
"True." Kishiria sat up in bed and hugged her knees. "I'm so tired, and things haven't even started to get hairy. My page Hamaan Khan called me from Jion. The Federal government responded to my condolences about General Reville. They sent a lovely flower arrangement with condolences of their own for the death of my father and a polite request for me to surrender."
"How sweet."
"General Delaz is willing to negotiate, though, and we're handling that by radio. So that's something. Also, I've signed the papers promoting you to Brigadier General. Congratulations."
"Thank you. How are you doing otherwise?"
She pressed her hand to her mouth. "Acid stomach, and I can't take medicine for it. I'd hate being pregnant if I weren't so excited about it."
"Really? You're happy about this? I wasn't sure if you just did this purely out of Zabi cold-bloodedness."
"I've always wanted kids. If I could combine dynastic politics with something I wanted, I figured it would be a win-win situation. Besides, amidst all this death, a lot of which I've caused directly, it's nice to know I can bring life as well as destroy it."
Char remembered Lalla's words and suppressed a shiver.
"I've also been pondering my new status as a New Type," Kishiria went on. "There's all this noise now, I don't know if you hear it. Voices in my head, like a conversation you hear through a wall."
"I've never had that problem. You might be more sensitive than I am. Talk to Dr. Flanagan when we get back to Side 3."
"We'll be there by tomorrow morning. I don't think I'll have a chance to see him right away. My agenda's already full. Well, this is what happens when you're a monarch who doesn't foist duties off on the local megalomaniac." Kishiria turned on the light and got out of bed, reaching for her pants. "Come on. Let's have a quiet dinner and pretend that we're normal people. It might be our last chance for a while."
They had a peaceful and pleasant dinner, after which they decided to be indulgent and ignore the war for a few hours. Kishiria wanted to experiment with her newfound abilities, but Char talked her out of it, insisting that she should let her brain rest for the evening. It wasn't difficult for him to find an activity that successfully distracted her.
The next morning, they made landfall. Kishiria rose from bed and left Char sleeping as she dressed and went up to the bridge. As the Zum City cylinder loomed larger and larger through the windows, she raised a hand to her forehead and winced. More minds meant more noise in her head. She didn't want to shut them out; they were her people after all. She relaxed for a moment, closed her eyes to welcome them, and was rewarded by an anxiety attack that knocked her back into her seat.
"Ma'am?" one of the bridge officers was immediately at her side.
"I'm fine," she assured him. "Headache."
Minds, pressing in on her, asserting their presence, shouting their everyday thoughts, all completely unaware that she could hear them. Kishiria gritted her teeth. What could she do?
Kishiria had heard something once about visualizing things in order to control New Type powers. She closed her eyes and pictured a radio receiver, then a remote in her hand. She visualized the remote in as much detail as she could, from the smooth feeling of the plastic in her hand to the roundness of the buttons under her thumb. She pressed "mute" on the remote and the noise vanished. She smiled. Her first sign of control as a New Type.
Kishiria watched as they docked, feeling excited, hopeful, and nervous all at once. She didn't think for a second that she'd really been born for this but with a little luck, no one would ever know.