Author's note: This is a new version of the fic Stolen Child, revamped for
use in my fiction writing class. For those of you who would read it, know
that while her name is not specifically mentioned, it is the Princess of
the Moon who fits the bill for royalty.
Death of Dreams
Prologue Lightning flashed overhead. Occasional rumbles of artillery shells ejected from their launchers echoed through the now-emptied city. Jordan surveyed the ruins with a dispassionate eye. His stallion shifted beneath him as he called out orders that could not be heard. "Jordan." Jordan turned, startled by the use of his name. Without warning, the battle sounds fell away and Jordan was left in a soundless void with a long-dead voice for company.
"What?" he whispered, afraid to disturb the dead.
"Jordan, I need to speak with you. Are you there?" Jordan reached toward the voice- and found himself pitching forward and ending up on the floor before his favorite armchair. Tears stained his cheeks and he rubbed his face against the soft fabric of the cushion. He gave a few hiccupy sobs and clutched the framed photograph in his arms a bit tighter, remembering all too clearly the reasons behind his impromptu nap.
"Jordan, are you there?" Jordan gathered the tattered shreds of his emotional control and caressed the photograph lovingly before speaking.
"Yes sir, I'm here." He managed breathlessly.
"Ah, Jordan." There was an awkward pause for a second, then; "I have a request, but bear in mind that it is only a request."
"Sir?"
"We're a bit understaffed in cadet sessions, and I was wondering if you would mind lending a hand."
"I've never taught before, sir." Jordan pointed out.
"I know that. But you're a fine officer, Captain. Your reputation precedes you. These cadets will certainly follow your example. But you think on it and let me know in the morning."
"When would you like me to start, sir?"
"As soon as possible. Sessions begin tonight, but we can cancel tonight's-and run through the end of the month."
"No sir, don't cancel. I'll be there tonight."
"Jordan, are you-"
"I'm fine, sir. What time should I be there tonight?" Jordan took another deep breath.
"Sessions begin at five."
"I'll be there shortly, sir."
****** The sky was afire with the setting sun, the Earth shone dully on the horizon. Such a beautiful planet, he mused. Shaking his head slightly, CSKO Captain Jordan returned his attention to the cars before him, waiting, like him to clear their security check. The Silver Palace glowed faintly in the square before them and Jordan drummed his fingers on the dashboard of his console impatiently, mentally willing the young guard to his car.. "Sir?" Startled, Jordan nearly reached for his weapon, then grinned wryly at the young man who looked frightened to death. "Sorry." he said. Producing an identacard he held it out, and watched as the guard ran it through the scanner. "Captain Jordan?" he asked, receiving a nod in reply. "I'll need to visually inspect your weapon, sir." Jordan nodded again and reached again for his weapon, only this time removing it and handing it over butt first. Looking again to the Palace, Jordan lost himself in the wondrous view of the ornate gardens and waterfalls. "Sir?" The guard handed him his weapon back and Jordan reholstered it quickly. "Park in my usual spot?" he asked dryly. "Yes sir, parking stall 127, ground floor." "Thank you." Jordan managed to wait until the guard stepped back before he accelerated forward, not even looking back as he rocketed down the ramp into the parking bays. The Silver Palace was actually only one of the Royal Family's residences, but it was frequently used the most as Her Majesty preferred to house her winter court there. As such, the Palace was also a source of income for nearly 1,650 people and it had been enlarged to incorporate shops and restaurants, parking spaces and flight pads. The Royals themselves lived within the Palace's center wings-away from the hustle and bustle of traffic, both within and from without. Jordan knew from experience that many within the inner circle lacked knowledge of the virtual city that had sprung up around them. Throwing the vehicle into park, Jordan groaned to as he levered himself out of his seat. Grinning, he slid the seat forward and removed his tack from behind and slammed the door shut. The stables within the Palace were quite extravagant, as was everything else. Stalls as old as the Moon remained in perfect condition. Hand hewn from white marble each stall was as meticulously maintained as each individual horse. Setting his tack down in the saddling ring, Jordan whistled to himself as he slid the tack room door open and snatched his stallion's halter from the appropriate hook. Jorax seemed quite happy to see him, he lipped the sugar cubes from his master's hand and stood patiently as the halter was slipped over his head. He walked easily to the saddling ring and waited eagerly as he was thoroughly brushed, then saddled. Finally bridled, Jorax shifted enthusiastically as Jordan mounted, then fairly danced with mounting excitement as they entered the arena. Young cadets were already mounted on powerful steeds, some geldings, most were mares, and all were careening around the arena at will. Jordan quickly surveyed the arena and discovered a small miracle. Her Highness was not riding yet this evening.
****** "Ah-Jordan!" Sir Marmak called cheerfully. Jordan smiled grimly as he took in the lord's sunburned face. "Good evening sir." He glared stonily at his superior, hoping the man would at least attempt to hide his naturally bubbly personality for a few minutes. Apparently taking the hint, Marmak sobered almost immediately as Jordan backed his mount alongside. "Jordan, I apologize for summoning you during.." Jordan held up a hand. "No need to apologize, sir." He immediately turned to face the arena, shoulders hunched as though under a great weight. "Are you..very well." Marmak corrected as he noticed Jordan's change in demeanor. "Captain-it seems our new recruits are having a bit of trouble executing flying lead changes." Jordan smiled for the first time in days. "Sir?" "Get down there and correct them." "Of course sir. May I ask why you requested that I?.." Jordan patted his mount's neck gently as he whinnied to one of the mares beyond. "Jordan..you've been their hero since they were children. They grew up hearing about your acts of bravery in the Mars rebellions. Now get down there and teach those children to do it right." "Yes sir." Jordan said smartly. Slapping his horse sharply with the end of his reins he broke into a canter and headed down into chaos. They were children all right, Jordan thought in exasperation. They danced about, trying stunts, racing their mounts. As he trotted into their midst, he noted that they all focused their attention, whispering amongst themselves. When he was certain he had their undivided attention he stopped in the center of the court. "Good evening children." He announced lazily. "I see that you have spent your horses' energy in less than an hour." "Sir?" one brave soul questioned. "We were just fooling around some.." "Yes, that is quite obvious, Cadet..?" "Lavek, sir." "Lavek.." he mused. "How long have you been riding?" Jordan struggled not to smile. He'd seen far more talent and less bravado displayed by the young princes on the rare occasions that they rode. "All my life, sir." "All your life..Lavek, ride toward me now at a canter. I want you to knock me off my horse." "Sir?" the boy looked horrified. "Lavek, don't question orders." He saluted smartly, looking sadly toward his hero. Jordan pressed a few keys on his communicator and then faced his would-be adversary. Nodding his assent he sat deep in the saddle with his weight over the stallion's massive shoulder. Lavek spurred his mare forward, just managing not to close his eyes as he approached. He loosened his feet from the stirrups and when he drew close enough he launched himself off her back and into the Captain's outstretched palm. He collapsed into a heap on the ground as the mare skittered away snorting loudly. The boys gasped collectively, though no one rushed forward to help Lavek up. The young cadet lay there in the dirt for a moment, still stunned before he popped up awkwardly and dusted himself off. He stood at attention before Captain Jordan who merely smiled. "You see, cadet?" "Yes sir." He said. "At ease, cadet. The rest of you-dismount! We'll conduct your course tonight without the aid of horses." "Sir?" Lavek's quavering voice asked from below. "Will we ride tomorrow?" "Of course Cadet." He purred. "This evening, you children can watch and learn how to properly ride while I give her Highness' lesson." "With a girl?" Lavek barely managed to hide his disgust. Barely. "Cadet-let me assure you that Her Most Serene Royal Highness is twice the rider you are now." "Sir?" he asked dumbly. "After all, she's never attempted to throw me from my horse. She knows that to force me off my mount will only happen if my balance is upset, not by rolling my horse over." "Oh." Lavek blushed before rejoining the horseless group of would-be Silver Riders on the ground.
****** Jordan watched easily from horseback as his 'students' for the evening finished grooming their horses. Jorax shifted impatiently as his master stroked his neck thoughtfully. He'd just called to see if her Highness would mind moving her lesson up to tonight, rather than tomorrow night. Of course, Jordan mused, the child herself seemed to look forward to getting it out of the way. "Lavek?" Captain Jordan called loudly. Activity in the wash racks seemed to become subdued as the filthy youth stepped from behind his horse. "Sir?" he called respectfully. "Have you had the pleasure of meeting her Highness? "No sir." Lavek answered truthfully. "Let someone else finish your horse, this eve, Lavek, and you will accompany me to attend to her Highness." "Attend to?" he repeated dumbly. "Of course, Lavek. You wouldn't ask that her Highness prepare her own mount, would you?
****** Lavek gathered her Highness' tack as Jordan watched, only just managing to contain his mirth. He didn't like the thought of being pressed into service as a groom, but Jordan was testing him for his earlier disobedience. Dressage saddle, double bridle, pad, wraps and brushes in hand, they set off to tack up. The stallion barns were in a separate wing of the Royal stables, and it was quite clear that Lavek had never entered the great pavilion. Jordan walked beside the youth with Jorax on a loose rein. "Which stallion, sir?" Lavek called, and Jordan returned from his musings. "Corin, Cadet." When the youth still looked confused, Jordan pointed down the row to the left. "Down there. Last stall to the right." Corin was among the most celebrated and experienced of stallions. The last son of the great Cor Bryere was in his teens now; a fiery soul who only worked to please. Jordan hid a smile as Lavek set the tack down on the shelf outside the stall and began to open the door, only to shut it in haste as Corin lunged at him savagely, teeth bared and ears pinned. Lavek colored in embarrassment all the way up to his hair line. "Good evening, your Highness." Captain Jordan called warmly. Jordan smirked to himself as he caught Lavek swallowing visibly as he first saw her Highness up close. Still a child, her Highness fairly glowed in her excitement. Her icy pallor was heightened by her shimmering blond hair that was pulled away from her face in a tight ponytail and her blue eyes laughed at the stunned look on the cadet's face. Lavek flushed when he caught her looking at him and just managed to lower his eyes to a respectful gaze on the floor. "Good evening." She returned. "Captain, who is-" she started to ask. "Highness, this is Cadet Lavek. He has volunteered his services for you tonight." The Princess eyed him strangely, but said nothing. She held the halter for her stallion in her hands, and opened the stall door. Marching in boldly, she slipped the halter over his head and fastened the stud chain almost before he could think. Calmly, her Highness jerked the chain, and the stallion ceased his attack abruptly. Lavek found himself offering the Princess a grudging respect; rather than watching him tack up the stallion, she did so herself, only asking him to lift the saddle onto Corin's broad back and to tighten the girth straps when she could no longer reach them. She expertly wrapped his legs in polo wraps and tugged on his chain until he dropped his head low enough for her to bridle him. Jordan eyed the youth and gave Lavek a small smile-her Highness already comported herself excellently as a horsewoman, and as a rider. Lavek waited until her Highness had been lifted onto Corin and ridden for the warm up arena before heading back to get his fellow students. Perhaps they would all learn something this evening.
******
Jordan enjoyed his lessons with Her Highness and cherished every one. In so many ways Her Highness reminded him of his own daughter with her desire to learn and obvious talent. Jordan smiled wistfully as he slowly finished grooming his stallion and set his saddle down on the rail. Her Highness was already on the washrack with Corin and she was thoroughly soaked from head to toe. The cadets had remained well past the end of their session. Some still remained, hanging around the rail and the wash rack, intently watching as Her Highness attempted to reach Corin's broad back to rinse it from the ground. Lavek took pity on Her Highness and took the hose from her, rinsing the stallion from head to toe before playfully squirting her with the hose. She screamed in protest and outrage, even as she laughed like a child should. Bath finished, Jordan watched as Corin was given his sheet and Lavek, in partial apology for soaking her with the hose, offered to walk him out for Her Highness.
****** It grew quiet in the stables as a distant clock tower sang out the late hour. Jordan watched as Lavek returned Corin, dry at last; to his stall and secured the latch. "Good night, sir." Lavek called. "Good night, Cadet." Jordan said. Lavek walked away quietly, his booted feet scarcely making a sound on ancient stone tiles. Jordan watched the boy's retreating figure fade away into lengthening shadows before he stood. He dreaded going home, as he always did these days. Hurrying back to Jorax's stall Jordan gave him one last carrot, and a pat good night before closing the door slowly.
His feet dragged as he slowly walked back to his car. The parking garage was predictably silent and empty; save for a few parked cars here and there. Jordan silently dumped his tack into the backseat and slid his own seat forward before collapsing into the car. He started it and backed expertly out of the space; headed home. Jordan's home had always been warm and well lit. His wife had kept it up well, she was always picking flowers and hanging them to dry. The house forever smelled of peppermint and lilacs. If he listened closely, he could still hear Imelda's laughter as his little girl raced to greet him in the doorway. Jordan paused before the carport door, remembering. He shook his head as he pulled into the carport and parked. Sighing, he fumbled for his keycard and moved forward blindly into the house.
There was no one to greet him now and Jordan felt his heart constrict painfully. He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the acrid smell of sweat and booze as he flipped on the kitchen light and strode to the fridge. Yanking the door open, he pulled out an empty carton of milk and shook the container thoughtfully before lobbing it at the sink. Rummaging about a bit, he found a jug of orange juice and without hesitation he drank deeply. Pausing to take a breath, he shook his head sadly, feeling the tears sting his eyes again as he heard his wife admonishing him for drinking straight from the carton. Slamming the fridge door shut, Jordan turned and left as quickly as he could. He spotted the pile of dirty dishes and trash in the sink and could hear the pictures fluttering on the fridge door. One pulled free of its magnetic confines and fell to the floor; the last drawing from a dead child's hand.
******
Jordan shifted uncomfortably in the armchair as he sat staring out into the night. A dog barked, shattering the silence and setting off all the other dogs. Jordan rose unsteadily from his chair and staggered to the mantle, hands blindly clutching the framed photograph. Jordan stood proudly beside his wife, with little Imelda sandwiched between them. He wore his dress uniform proudly; he'd been promoted to Captain that day and he modeled his new rank. The dashing Captain and his young family. He'd looked forward to more children; he'd looked forward to a long and happy marriage to his wife. His immense control slipped and he swiped angrily at his cheek. Why hadn't he stopped them? Jordan took a deep breath, resting his forehead on clasped hands. He could almost hear his wife's voice, and Imelda's sweet high one teasing each other as they finished packing. Jordan closed his eyes for a second, only a second. And awoke to find himself comfortably sprawled in his favorite armchair. The lights were burning bright and warm, and the holonet playing in the background. "..In other news, the civil war wages on in the Solari Capital. Many political analysts are clamoring for Lunari military forces to intervene, but her Majesty's staff report no change in her position. Her Majesty's advisors claim that nothing could be gained by intervention, not even in light of previous close ties to Sol. However, we feel it prudent to warn our audience that travel on Sol is inadvisable at this time." Jordan slouched into the chair, trying not to cry. He'd stiffened suddenly, feeling his wife's gentle hand touching the back of his neck. "Jordan?" she'd asked. "Are you all right?" He'd opened his mouth to tell her not to go, to tell her why, but found himself unable to tell her anything. He could not change history, and he knew that he was doomed to forever replay these last scenes in his mind. "Yes." He'd said huskily. "I'm all right." He straightened in his chair and gave her a watery smile. "You all ready?"
"Yes," she'd said, smiling. "We're all packed, and ready to go."
Jordan had tried to smile, but it only came out a grimace. "Be careful." Were the only words he could think to say.
"We won't be gone long, Jordan." She'd said. "It's just for the weekend. And don't worry; the civil war hasn't consumed everything. It's still contained in the capital." Just in the capital. Jordan had hung his head, and nodded woefully. "Of course." He'd said. Jordan felt the scene dissolve away, and his lonely, darkened living room came into view. He hung his head and whimpered, curling about himself in the chair. He dropped the photograph and clenched his fists, hitting himself in the head in mute rage. Jordan knew intellectually that he'd let them go because he hadn't known that the fighting in the Solari capital was going to spread beyond spiteful violence that day. He could clearly remember that he'd attended his weekly dinner service with the Royal family, and returned home late. He'd moved into the bedroom and ignored the blinking light on the communications panel that indicated he had an urgent message. He'd even showered in blissful ignorance, only reliving the evening he'd spent in pleasant company. Emerging from the shower, Jordan remembered hitting the play button, expecting only happy greetings from his wife, and Imelda to tell him that she wished he'd come. Not.not what he'd gotten instead. "Jordan, its Malachite. I have some news for you and I want you to call me as soon as you get this. Call me as soon as you get this. It's about..it's about Noriko and Imelda." Jordan swiped at his cheeks in shame, keening in a low breathless voice. Throat burning, Jordan tore into the kitchen craving a drink. He ripped open every cabinet and threw the contents onto the floor. Finding nothing, he moved into the living room and paused, guilt tearing at him as he studied his wife's china cabinet.
He delicately opened the door and poked about. His hands instinctively found a bottle and he removed it cautiously, wiping the dust from his hands on his breeches. He didn't even inspect the label as his popped the cork and flung it across the room and drank deeply, relishing in the burn of the brandy as it seared his throat. With any luck, it would burn his memory as it burned his throat and rob him of any feeling he had left.
******
Morning came slowly-though by sunrise, Jordan no longer cared. He'd listened to the dogs howl and yip all night long as he sipped at his brandy slowly. Jordan remained in his seat, staring out into a sunlit world he no longer belonged to. The neighborhood was awakening around him, children spilling out into the streets as they walked to school, husbands and wives began leaving for work. The communications panel startled Jordan out of his drunken haze and he raised a slurred voice to answer;
"What?" he snarled. "Captain Jordan?" Sir Marmak, perfect. Jordan swore under his breath. "Yeah?" "You're late, Captain." Marmak said. "I was wondering if there was some problem?" Jordan took a deep breath as he tried to decide how to answer. Apparently Marmak took his silence as confirmation, for he continued.
"Captain, I realize that the death-" Marmak paused; "- that your recent losses have to be difficult for you. Perhaps you should reconsider taking leave? No one would fault you for it, Jordan."
"No sir." Jordan said. "I'm sorry for my tardiness. I shall be there within the hour."
******
Jordan staggered to his feet and stumbled toward his bedroom closet. Tugging his breeches and tunic off, he hurriedly redressed in another uniform. Pausing to peer in a mirror, a small part of Jordan's mind wondered if he shouldn't shave first-but he ignored the thought and grabbing his keys from the dresser, he bolted for the front door. Suddenly, he didn't mind escaping his too empty house with its damned memories. The streets were filled with traffic as Millennium City came to life. Jordan groaned to himself as he turned off one of the city's main boulevard's and joined the traffic queue to enter the Silver Palace. Jordan swore loudly as he gunned the engine, flying up the service ramps past the surprised guards. He eased off the accelerator as he passed a little to close to the outside railing. Taking the first empty space he could find, Jordan displayed the day placard and leapt from the car. Grumbling to himself, he slammed the door so hard it nearly wrenched the door from its hinges.
****** The stables were active as always, Jordan could see. He noticed Corin, in his studded bridle and double reins being led toward the breeding shed. The stallion clearly knew what was coming, for he threatened to rear and swept his handlers off their feet. The calls of the mare intensified from within the shed as Corin neared, and his own screams grew louder as he bolted inside. Jordan couldn't restrain a smile as he heard the stallion clamber onto the dummy. "Captain Jordan?" A young officer stood before him at attention. "Yes?" "His Lordship has asked to speak with you at your leisure, sir." Jordan shook his head, rubbing at his jaw line as he did so. "Lead the way, lieutenant." Marmak was just inside the saddling ring, supervising his cadets as they tacked their mounts. Jordan looked about, trying to decide if he knew any of them as Marmak spoke.
"Captain, are you all right?"
"Yes sir." Jordan said tightly. He felt self conscious under the commander's attention.
"Jordan," he said. "If you need anything, son, you ask, all right?"
"Yes sir." Jordan said. "Am I dismissed?"
Marmak waved him off, though he continued to watch as Jordan walked away. Jordan felt anxiety well up within him, though he thought he contained it well. Marmak had never shown such an interest in his personal well-being before. Up until now, Jordan himself had privately wondered about the man's mental state.
******
Jordan had not been happy to find that Jorax was also expected in the breeding shed. He waited impatiently outside his mount's stall as the bridle was fastened and his handlers flanked him on both sides.
"Bring him back as soon as he covers the mare." He ordered. The staffers exchanged uneasy looks over the stallion's wither, and then nervously looked at Jordan.
"We'll try, sir. We'll bring him back as soon as it is safe to do so." One finally said. Jordan waved them off impatiently and skulked off down the barn aisle in search of a temporary mount. He ran a hand impatiently through his hair, feeling slightly ill from his overindulgence the night before. His stomach churned, and he paused to lean against a stall door.
"Sir?" someone called.
"I'm fine." Jordan ground out, standing up slowly. "What do you want?"
"Are you sure you're okay, sir?" a groom stood before him in the immaculate white of the Palace staff.
"Yes, yes." Jordan eyed the man. "What're you doing down here?"
"Her Highness had asked me this morning if I would come attend to Cimarron, he is beginning his work on the line under her Highness tutelage. However, she wasn't able to make it down today, so she asked me to come in her stead."
"Cimarron is under saddle already?" Jordan wondered if he sounded as surprised as he felt.
"No sir, he's only on the line. He's not even a tested stallion yet."
"I see." Jordan rubbed at the stubble on his jaw thoughtfully. "Tell Her Highness that I will work Cimarron today." Jerking his head ruefully toward the breeding shed, Jordan sighed. "My own mount seems to be busy."
"Sir, if you're not feeling-"
"I'll be fine." Jordan barked, only to regret it as the young man flinched.
"Sorry."
"Quite all right sir."
"I'll work Cimarron." Jordan repeated dismissively. With little choice, the young groom showed him to Cimarron's stall, and assisted him with the bridle and surcingle. Wrapping the young stallion's legs and adjusting the side reins, the groom led Cimarron to the arena and sent him out on the circle before handing the lines to Captain Jordan. Jordan paused before finding his hand holds on the lines. A wave of nausea swept through him that threatened to drop him to his knees.
"Captain?" Jordan sucked in a deep breath. "Yes?" he answered through clenched teeth.
"Are you all right, sir?"
"Yes, I'm fine." Jordan slowly relaxed and stood fully upright again. "Fine." He said. The groom looked dubious, but nodded. He patted the young stallion's neck thoughtfully as he slowly headed back to the rail. Jordan nodded to himself and raised his chin.
"Walk on." He commanded. Cimarron walked forward obediently and dropped his head into the side reins, giving to the pressure. After a short warm up, Jordan commanded the young horse to trot, and finally to canter. Jordan watched Cimarron with a practiced eye, pushing him out when he drifted in on his twenty meter circle and bringing him in when he tipped to the outside. He halted him, then switched the rein and line and sent him back out. The twisting and churning began again in his stomach and Jordan instinctively let the line out. Cimarron greedily took up the slack and bounded out, fighting against the side reins. Jordan let the stallion go and fell to his knees. The arena felt distant and blurred around him. Dimly, Jordan realized that he could hear Cimarron's shrill scream as he reared in the reins and flipped himself over backwards, and with that, the world went black.
******
"What happened?" Her Highness sounded most upset, and Jordan wondered at it. She was such a happy child, he'd rarely seen her upset. He struggled to open to his eyes and found himself lying on a medbed flat on his back. He tried to sit up, but couldn't; and finally lie still.
"Captain?" the doctor asked.
"Yes?" he whispered. The doctor held out a cup with a straw and Jordan drank greedily.
"What happened?"
"You don't remember?" the doctor asked. Jordan tried, but he couldn't remember anything beyond the grainy feel of the sand on the arena floor.
"No, I don't." he said honestly. The doctor clucked disparagingly and scanned him thoughtfully.
"Well, there's nothing physically wrong with you that a little sleep won't cure you of." The doctor eyed him. "You want to tell me what's going on?"
"Going on?" he echoed, feeling his hackles start to rise again. Evidently the doctor could see the panic in his eyes; for he pulled up a chair and sat down. "Captain, you're suffering the effects of too much alcohol, and not enough sleep. You want to explain yourself to me?" "No." Jordan said snidely. "I don't want to explain myself." The doctor slanted him a dark look. "You've ruined a fine young horse, Captain. You're in quite a bit of trouble with Her Highness, and I dare say with Her Majesty." Jordan felt the queasiness return.
"What happened with Cimarron?" he asked quietly.
"Cimarron-" the doctor pulled his gloves and made a circuit of the room as he spoke. "-flipped himself over in the side reins. He struck the poll between his ears and was seizing before the grooms could reach him to release him. You know that horses are most at risk to kill themselves when they flip over, and in those side reins, he couldn't avoid injury. They destroyed him on site. You know that young horses are to be worked only by the fittest men." The doctor glared at him. Jordan felt a niggling sense of guilt and looked away. "Her Highness has asked to see you if you're able, and even if you're not." "No." Jordan said firmly. "I don't want to see Her Highness. Not now. I don't feel well." Too late. Her Highness came barreling in the door and let it slam open. She looked exquisite, so like Imelda had been. Imelda had oft been furious with him when he left on his long tours of duty.
"What were you doing, Captain?" she demanded. Jordan could see tears in her large blue eyes.
"I'm sorry, your Highness." He whispered mutely.
"Why?" she asked again, and Jordan heard Imelda asking why he'd been gone so long. "I told you I had to-" Jordan stopped, abruptly, realizing his impudence. "I'm sorry. I just." The governess came in and took Her Highness' hand, guiding her outside. He could see that Her Highness was crying by then, and the governess glared at him as she led the distraught girl away.
"You're released, Captain. But you're on medical leave. I want you to go home and get some sleep. Do you require any sedatives?" the doctor asked brusquely.
"No." Jordan said.
"Very well, you're released." The doctor left, and Jordan slowly sat up, then rose from the bed. Without uttering another word he pulled his jacket on, and left the medlab without a backward glance.
******
He hadn't known what to do with himself, after he'd left. So he'd returned to the stables. Jorax had done his duty in the breeding shed and he was munching happily on his hay when Jordan joined him. He ran a hand lovingly along his crest and tossed a lock of mane back over his neck.
"Well, Jorax, my boy. I've done it now." Jordan impulsively buried his face in Jorax's mane and let himself shed tears for his wife, Imelda, and for himself. After a time Jordan felt his tears dry, and he wiped his nose. Reaching into a secret pocket within the vest, he removed a small flask and drank heartily, toasting those loved and lost. Again. And again. And again.
******
Morning came slowly, but Jordan hadn't realized it. He had wandered out of Jorax's stall some hours before, and weaved his way down the aisle. Jordan's last conscious thought had been the softness of the straw. He lay now, as he had earlier in the evening. The flask lie empty beside him and he nudged it with thickened fingers, hoping to encourage one last drop to emerge from the container. Failing that, Jordan hauled himself out of the hay and staggered drunkenly out into the barn. Red eyed, bleary, Jordan scrubbed at his face and felt the beard stubble. His hands ran through thinning gray hair and left it standing on end before nervously clenching his hands into fists. Imelda wouldn't like to be kissed while he had a beard, he thought idly. She always complained that they were scratchy. But she always kissed him anyway.. Imelda.. Jordan smiled, suddenly, eager to be going home. He'd been away for far too long.
"Going home, Jordan?" someone called.
"Yes sir." Jordan called smartly.
"Have a good leave, Captain."
"I will sir, thank you." Jordan was whistling to himself as he stopped in the stables one last time to say good bye to Jorax, who had just been unloaded and left in his stall.
"Hello, old friend." The stallion pinned his ears and struck out at him. Startled, Jordan watched the stud in some confusion. Jorax had never reacted to his presence while eating, and certainly not with such aggression. In spite of himself, he reached out instinctively to brush his fingers on that silky coat only to snatch them back as the stud snapped at him. "Stop it, Corin." A gentle voice sang out from within for the stallion to stop, and Jordan felt his heart soar as he heard; "Stop it, Jorax."
"Imelda?" he gasped. She appeared at the door of the box, staring at him quizzically, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. She started to say something, but he could only see her lips move as he rushed forward and let her out, then hugged her to him crushingly.
"My little angel, you shouldn't be here without Mommy." He admonished. "But I am happy to see you." She struggled against him and Jordan set her down, taking her hand and smiling down at her.
"Let's go home, shall we?" he asked, without expecting an answer. Jordan ignored the stallion as he snorted and rammed himself against the stall door.
******
Jordan didn't remember Imelda being so oddly silent before. She walked sullenly beside him as he held her hand. Jordan thought that maybe she was upset with him for being gone so long. So entrenched was he in his study of Imelda that he ignored the strange looks he received from the various grooms and stable boys scurrying about the barn. He helped Imelda get into the car, and shut the door before clambering into the driver's side and starting the vehicle. How long it had been since he'd been home! Jordan took the drive home from memory, scarcely looking at the streets as he navigated them. Imelda had remained quiet, staring apprehensively out the window.
"Imelda, sweetie, what's wrong?" She began to speak, but Jordan still couldn't hear her. Shaking his head at her, he took her hand and held it again, firmly.
"It's all right, honey. We'll see what we can do about it, okay?" Imelda looked away again, her already pale face tightening up again before nodding uncertainly. Jordan pulled the car into the carport and shut the engine off. He unbuckled his seat belt hurriedly and raced around to help Imelda with hers.
"There you are, honey." He guided her up into the house. "We're home!" he called, but there was no answer. Only wondering at it a tiny bit, Jordan released Imelda's hand and lifted her onto a stool.
"Would you like a snack, sweetheart?"
"No, thank you." She said primly.
"Are you sure, honey?" he asked again, smiling at her. She was such a pretty child.
"Yes." She said stiffly. Jordan watched her worriedly for a second before returning to the fridge. One of her pictures had come free of its magnets and fell to the floor. He bent down and picked it up, admiring the handiwork of a small child.
"When did you draw this, Imelda?" he asked.
"I didn't." she said darkly, and Jordan watched her carefully.
"Are you feeling okay? You need me to call Mommy, hon?" She shook her head emphatically. "I'm okay." She lied. Jordan could see suddenly that the girl was terrified.
"Imelda, what is it?" he pulled up a stool next to her and watched, worriedly as she scooted as far away from him as she could on her stool. She shook her head, biting her lip as tears sprang to her eyes. Jordan reached out and wiped them away.
"Baby, if it's something you did wrong, you need to tell me or Mommy. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won't be mad."
"You won't be?" she asked.
"No, I won't be mad. I promise." She whispered, in a voice so low he almost didn't hear her. "I'm not Imelda." Jordan felt comprehension dawn and he smothered a smile. "Of course you're not." He said. Her cheeks flushed suddenly. "You knew?" she asked in relief.
"Of course I knew." He said warmly. "Who are you now, Imelda?"
"No!" she screamed suddenly. She slid from her stool and would have run from the room if Jordan hadn't grasped her wrist so tightly that he left finger prints on her delicate skin.
"I'm not Imelda!" she screamed. She burst into tears. "I didn't draw that. I'm not a good drawer." Jordan watched as she collapsed into a heap, sobbing. For a moment, he wasn't sure what to do. He reached out delicately and brushed back a stray strand of hair and tilted her chin up to see her eyes. Deep blue eyes stared back at him fearfully, rimmed in red and covered with tears. Not Imelda's. Not Imelda's. And he remembered- Riotsfiresbombsexplosionsbloodsweattears. Tears. Imelda's green eyes- Blue. Jordan felt as though he had been slugged in the gut. Reality crashed about him as though released from a great dam and he could see Her Highness sitting huddled before him, crying bitterly. She was shivering in fright, and nothing like his sweet Imelda. "God." He muttered, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "Oh God." From outside a voice echoed commandingly, and Jordan realized for the first time that his cozy little house was surrounded by the Royal Guard. "Captain Jordan, you are hereby ordered to release your hostage. Do it now, Captain, and avoid the death sentence." Jordan sucked in a breath and studied her Highness. She clutched her tiny wrist loosely, he could see from the angle from which it hung that it was badly sprained, if not broken.
"Your Highness." He whispered. "I'm so sorry." She looked up fearfully and he held out a hand gently. After a long pause, she took it slowly, and he helped her to her feet.
"The guard have come to take you home, your Highness." He said. "Do you think you can open the door and let yourself out?" She nodded, and Jordan gave her a weak smile. "Then go, your Highness. And- " She'd started for the door, and then paused when he did.
"I'm sorry, your Highness. I never meant to hurt you." Jordan fought against his grief as it rose in him. He could see nothing but Imelda and Noriko and couldn't hear anything but the sound of his own breath as it whistled in his ears. Her Highness's cold hands touched his and he felt his heart leap into his chest. Without warning, he seized the child about the waist and hugged her close before releasing her. The smile she gave him went far to melt the ice around his heart. Her Highness was on her way home, Jordan could hear his front door opening, and the shouted orders for them to "stand down". He positioned himself near the front window to watch as Her Highness bounded out to a waiting Lieutenant, who swept her off her feet and carried her back to a armored vehicle. Ignoring the orders being issued to him over the bullhorn, Jordan reached into a bureau drawer and removed a wrapped object. He looked out the window, but no longer saw anything. Jordan could feel the metallic weight in his hand. Raising his gaze skyward, he whispered a prayer and pressed the barrel to his temple. Closing his eyes, he pulled the trigger.
Death of Dreams
Prologue Lightning flashed overhead. Occasional rumbles of artillery shells ejected from their launchers echoed through the now-emptied city. Jordan surveyed the ruins with a dispassionate eye. His stallion shifted beneath him as he called out orders that could not be heard. "Jordan." Jordan turned, startled by the use of his name. Without warning, the battle sounds fell away and Jordan was left in a soundless void with a long-dead voice for company.
"What?" he whispered, afraid to disturb the dead.
"Jordan, I need to speak with you. Are you there?" Jordan reached toward the voice- and found himself pitching forward and ending up on the floor before his favorite armchair. Tears stained his cheeks and he rubbed his face against the soft fabric of the cushion. He gave a few hiccupy sobs and clutched the framed photograph in his arms a bit tighter, remembering all too clearly the reasons behind his impromptu nap.
"Jordan, are you there?" Jordan gathered the tattered shreds of his emotional control and caressed the photograph lovingly before speaking.
"Yes sir, I'm here." He managed breathlessly.
"Ah, Jordan." There was an awkward pause for a second, then; "I have a request, but bear in mind that it is only a request."
"Sir?"
"We're a bit understaffed in cadet sessions, and I was wondering if you would mind lending a hand."
"I've never taught before, sir." Jordan pointed out.
"I know that. But you're a fine officer, Captain. Your reputation precedes you. These cadets will certainly follow your example. But you think on it and let me know in the morning."
"When would you like me to start, sir?"
"As soon as possible. Sessions begin tonight, but we can cancel tonight's-and run through the end of the month."
"No sir, don't cancel. I'll be there tonight."
"Jordan, are you-"
"I'm fine, sir. What time should I be there tonight?" Jordan took another deep breath.
"Sessions begin at five."
"I'll be there shortly, sir."
****** The sky was afire with the setting sun, the Earth shone dully on the horizon. Such a beautiful planet, he mused. Shaking his head slightly, CSKO Captain Jordan returned his attention to the cars before him, waiting, like him to clear their security check. The Silver Palace glowed faintly in the square before them and Jordan drummed his fingers on the dashboard of his console impatiently, mentally willing the young guard to his car.. "Sir?" Startled, Jordan nearly reached for his weapon, then grinned wryly at the young man who looked frightened to death. "Sorry." he said. Producing an identacard he held it out, and watched as the guard ran it through the scanner. "Captain Jordan?" he asked, receiving a nod in reply. "I'll need to visually inspect your weapon, sir." Jordan nodded again and reached again for his weapon, only this time removing it and handing it over butt first. Looking again to the Palace, Jordan lost himself in the wondrous view of the ornate gardens and waterfalls. "Sir?" The guard handed him his weapon back and Jordan reholstered it quickly. "Park in my usual spot?" he asked dryly. "Yes sir, parking stall 127, ground floor." "Thank you." Jordan managed to wait until the guard stepped back before he accelerated forward, not even looking back as he rocketed down the ramp into the parking bays. The Silver Palace was actually only one of the Royal Family's residences, but it was frequently used the most as Her Majesty preferred to house her winter court there. As such, the Palace was also a source of income for nearly 1,650 people and it had been enlarged to incorporate shops and restaurants, parking spaces and flight pads. The Royals themselves lived within the Palace's center wings-away from the hustle and bustle of traffic, both within and from without. Jordan knew from experience that many within the inner circle lacked knowledge of the virtual city that had sprung up around them. Throwing the vehicle into park, Jordan groaned to as he levered himself out of his seat. Grinning, he slid the seat forward and removed his tack from behind and slammed the door shut. The stables within the Palace were quite extravagant, as was everything else. Stalls as old as the Moon remained in perfect condition. Hand hewn from white marble each stall was as meticulously maintained as each individual horse. Setting his tack down in the saddling ring, Jordan whistled to himself as he slid the tack room door open and snatched his stallion's halter from the appropriate hook. Jorax seemed quite happy to see him, he lipped the sugar cubes from his master's hand and stood patiently as the halter was slipped over his head. He walked easily to the saddling ring and waited eagerly as he was thoroughly brushed, then saddled. Finally bridled, Jorax shifted enthusiastically as Jordan mounted, then fairly danced with mounting excitement as they entered the arena. Young cadets were already mounted on powerful steeds, some geldings, most were mares, and all were careening around the arena at will. Jordan quickly surveyed the arena and discovered a small miracle. Her Highness was not riding yet this evening.
****** "Ah-Jordan!" Sir Marmak called cheerfully. Jordan smiled grimly as he took in the lord's sunburned face. "Good evening sir." He glared stonily at his superior, hoping the man would at least attempt to hide his naturally bubbly personality for a few minutes. Apparently taking the hint, Marmak sobered almost immediately as Jordan backed his mount alongside. "Jordan, I apologize for summoning you during.." Jordan held up a hand. "No need to apologize, sir." He immediately turned to face the arena, shoulders hunched as though under a great weight. "Are you..very well." Marmak corrected as he noticed Jordan's change in demeanor. "Captain-it seems our new recruits are having a bit of trouble executing flying lead changes." Jordan smiled for the first time in days. "Sir?" "Get down there and correct them." "Of course sir. May I ask why you requested that I?.." Jordan patted his mount's neck gently as he whinnied to one of the mares beyond. "Jordan..you've been their hero since they were children. They grew up hearing about your acts of bravery in the Mars rebellions. Now get down there and teach those children to do it right." "Yes sir." Jordan said smartly. Slapping his horse sharply with the end of his reins he broke into a canter and headed down into chaos. They were children all right, Jordan thought in exasperation. They danced about, trying stunts, racing their mounts. As he trotted into their midst, he noted that they all focused their attention, whispering amongst themselves. When he was certain he had their undivided attention he stopped in the center of the court. "Good evening children." He announced lazily. "I see that you have spent your horses' energy in less than an hour." "Sir?" one brave soul questioned. "We were just fooling around some.." "Yes, that is quite obvious, Cadet..?" "Lavek, sir." "Lavek.." he mused. "How long have you been riding?" Jordan struggled not to smile. He'd seen far more talent and less bravado displayed by the young princes on the rare occasions that they rode. "All my life, sir." "All your life..Lavek, ride toward me now at a canter. I want you to knock me off my horse." "Sir?" the boy looked horrified. "Lavek, don't question orders." He saluted smartly, looking sadly toward his hero. Jordan pressed a few keys on his communicator and then faced his would-be adversary. Nodding his assent he sat deep in the saddle with his weight over the stallion's massive shoulder. Lavek spurred his mare forward, just managing not to close his eyes as he approached. He loosened his feet from the stirrups and when he drew close enough he launched himself off her back and into the Captain's outstretched palm. He collapsed into a heap on the ground as the mare skittered away snorting loudly. The boys gasped collectively, though no one rushed forward to help Lavek up. The young cadet lay there in the dirt for a moment, still stunned before he popped up awkwardly and dusted himself off. He stood at attention before Captain Jordan who merely smiled. "You see, cadet?" "Yes sir." He said. "At ease, cadet. The rest of you-dismount! We'll conduct your course tonight without the aid of horses." "Sir?" Lavek's quavering voice asked from below. "Will we ride tomorrow?" "Of course Cadet." He purred. "This evening, you children can watch and learn how to properly ride while I give her Highness' lesson." "With a girl?" Lavek barely managed to hide his disgust. Barely. "Cadet-let me assure you that Her Most Serene Royal Highness is twice the rider you are now." "Sir?" he asked dumbly. "After all, she's never attempted to throw me from my horse. She knows that to force me off my mount will only happen if my balance is upset, not by rolling my horse over." "Oh." Lavek blushed before rejoining the horseless group of would-be Silver Riders on the ground.
****** Jordan watched easily from horseback as his 'students' for the evening finished grooming their horses. Jorax shifted impatiently as his master stroked his neck thoughtfully. He'd just called to see if her Highness would mind moving her lesson up to tonight, rather than tomorrow night. Of course, Jordan mused, the child herself seemed to look forward to getting it out of the way. "Lavek?" Captain Jordan called loudly. Activity in the wash racks seemed to become subdued as the filthy youth stepped from behind his horse. "Sir?" he called respectfully. "Have you had the pleasure of meeting her Highness? "No sir." Lavek answered truthfully. "Let someone else finish your horse, this eve, Lavek, and you will accompany me to attend to her Highness." "Attend to?" he repeated dumbly. "Of course, Lavek. You wouldn't ask that her Highness prepare her own mount, would you?
****** Lavek gathered her Highness' tack as Jordan watched, only just managing to contain his mirth. He didn't like the thought of being pressed into service as a groom, but Jordan was testing him for his earlier disobedience. Dressage saddle, double bridle, pad, wraps and brushes in hand, they set off to tack up. The stallion barns were in a separate wing of the Royal stables, and it was quite clear that Lavek had never entered the great pavilion. Jordan walked beside the youth with Jorax on a loose rein. "Which stallion, sir?" Lavek called, and Jordan returned from his musings. "Corin, Cadet." When the youth still looked confused, Jordan pointed down the row to the left. "Down there. Last stall to the right." Corin was among the most celebrated and experienced of stallions. The last son of the great Cor Bryere was in his teens now; a fiery soul who only worked to please. Jordan hid a smile as Lavek set the tack down on the shelf outside the stall and began to open the door, only to shut it in haste as Corin lunged at him savagely, teeth bared and ears pinned. Lavek colored in embarrassment all the way up to his hair line. "Good evening, your Highness." Captain Jordan called warmly. Jordan smirked to himself as he caught Lavek swallowing visibly as he first saw her Highness up close. Still a child, her Highness fairly glowed in her excitement. Her icy pallor was heightened by her shimmering blond hair that was pulled away from her face in a tight ponytail and her blue eyes laughed at the stunned look on the cadet's face. Lavek flushed when he caught her looking at him and just managed to lower his eyes to a respectful gaze on the floor. "Good evening." She returned. "Captain, who is-" she started to ask. "Highness, this is Cadet Lavek. He has volunteered his services for you tonight." The Princess eyed him strangely, but said nothing. She held the halter for her stallion in her hands, and opened the stall door. Marching in boldly, she slipped the halter over his head and fastened the stud chain almost before he could think. Calmly, her Highness jerked the chain, and the stallion ceased his attack abruptly. Lavek found himself offering the Princess a grudging respect; rather than watching him tack up the stallion, she did so herself, only asking him to lift the saddle onto Corin's broad back and to tighten the girth straps when she could no longer reach them. She expertly wrapped his legs in polo wraps and tugged on his chain until he dropped his head low enough for her to bridle him. Jordan eyed the youth and gave Lavek a small smile-her Highness already comported herself excellently as a horsewoman, and as a rider. Lavek waited until her Highness had been lifted onto Corin and ridden for the warm up arena before heading back to get his fellow students. Perhaps they would all learn something this evening.
******
Jordan enjoyed his lessons with Her Highness and cherished every one. In so many ways Her Highness reminded him of his own daughter with her desire to learn and obvious talent. Jordan smiled wistfully as he slowly finished grooming his stallion and set his saddle down on the rail. Her Highness was already on the washrack with Corin and she was thoroughly soaked from head to toe. The cadets had remained well past the end of their session. Some still remained, hanging around the rail and the wash rack, intently watching as Her Highness attempted to reach Corin's broad back to rinse it from the ground. Lavek took pity on Her Highness and took the hose from her, rinsing the stallion from head to toe before playfully squirting her with the hose. She screamed in protest and outrage, even as she laughed like a child should. Bath finished, Jordan watched as Corin was given his sheet and Lavek, in partial apology for soaking her with the hose, offered to walk him out for Her Highness.
****** It grew quiet in the stables as a distant clock tower sang out the late hour. Jordan watched as Lavek returned Corin, dry at last; to his stall and secured the latch. "Good night, sir." Lavek called. "Good night, Cadet." Jordan said. Lavek walked away quietly, his booted feet scarcely making a sound on ancient stone tiles. Jordan watched the boy's retreating figure fade away into lengthening shadows before he stood. He dreaded going home, as he always did these days. Hurrying back to Jorax's stall Jordan gave him one last carrot, and a pat good night before closing the door slowly.
His feet dragged as he slowly walked back to his car. The parking garage was predictably silent and empty; save for a few parked cars here and there. Jordan silently dumped his tack into the backseat and slid his own seat forward before collapsing into the car. He started it and backed expertly out of the space; headed home. Jordan's home had always been warm and well lit. His wife had kept it up well, she was always picking flowers and hanging them to dry. The house forever smelled of peppermint and lilacs. If he listened closely, he could still hear Imelda's laughter as his little girl raced to greet him in the doorway. Jordan paused before the carport door, remembering. He shook his head as he pulled into the carport and parked. Sighing, he fumbled for his keycard and moved forward blindly into the house.
There was no one to greet him now and Jordan felt his heart constrict painfully. He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the acrid smell of sweat and booze as he flipped on the kitchen light and strode to the fridge. Yanking the door open, he pulled out an empty carton of milk and shook the container thoughtfully before lobbing it at the sink. Rummaging about a bit, he found a jug of orange juice and without hesitation he drank deeply. Pausing to take a breath, he shook his head sadly, feeling the tears sting his eyes again as he heard his wife admonishing him for drinking straight from the carton. Slamming the fridge door shut, Jordan turned and left as quickly as he could. He spotted the pile of dirty dishes and trash in the sink and could hear the pictures fluttering on the fridge door. One pulled free of its magnetic confines and fell to the floor; the last drawing from a dead child's hand.
******
Jordan shifted uncomfortably in the armchair as he sat staring out into the night. A dog barked, shattering the silence and setting off all the other dogs. Jordan rose unsteadily from his chair and staggered to the mantle, hands blindly clutching the framed photograph. Jordan stood proudly beside his wife, with little Imelda sandwiched between them. He wore his dress uniform proudly; he'd been promoted to Captain that day and he modeled his new rank. The dashing Captain and his young family. He'd looked forward to more children; he'd looked forward to a long and happy marriage to his wife. His immense control slipped and he swiped angrily at his cheek. Why hadn't he stopped them? Jordan took a deep breath, resting his forehead on clasped hands. He could almost hear his wife's voice, and Imelda's sweet high one teasing each other as they finished packing. Jordan closed his eyes for a second, only a second. And awoke to find himself comfortably sprawled in his favorite armchair. The lights were burning bright and warm, and the holonet playing in the background. "..In other news, the civil war wages on in the Solari Capital. Many political analysts are clamoring for Lunari military forces to intervene, but her Majesty's staff report no change in her position. Her Majesty's advisors claim that nothing could be gained by intervention, not even in light of previous close ties to Sol. However, we feel it prudent to warn our audience that travel on Sol is inadvisable at this time." Jordan slouched into the chair, trying not to cry. He'd stiffened suddenly, feeling his wife's gentle hand touching the back of his neck. "Jordan?" she'd asked. "Are you all right?" He'd opened his mouth to tell her not to go, to tell her why, but found himself unable to tell her anything. He could not change history, and he knew that he was doomed to forever replay these last scenes in his mind. "Yes." He'd said huskily. "I'm all right." He straightened in his chair and gave her a watery smile. "You all ready?"
"Yes," she'd said, smiling. "We're all packed, and ready to go."
Jordan had tried to smile, but it only came out a grimace. "Be careful." Were the only words he could think to say.
"We won't be gone long, Jordan." She'd said. "It's just for the weekend. And don't worry; the civil war hasn't consumed everything. It's still contained in the capital." Just in the capital. Jordan had hung his head, and nodded woefully. "Of course." He'd said. Jordan felt the scene dissolve away, and his lonely, darkened living room came into view. He hung his head and whimpered, curling about himself in the chair. He dropped the photograph and clenched his fists, hitting himself in the head in mute rage. Jordan knew intellectually that he'd let them go because he hadn't known that the fighting in the Solari capital was going to spread beyond spiteful violence that day. He could clearly remember that he'd attended his weekly dinner service with the Royal family, and returned home late. He'd moved into the bedroom and ignored the blinking light on the communications panel that indicated he had an urgent message. He'd even showered in blissful ignorance, only reliving the evening he'd spent in pleasant company. Emerging from the shower, Jordan remembered hitting the play button, expecting only happy greetings from his wife, and Imelda to tell him that she wished he'd come. Not.not what he'd gotten instead. "Jordan, its Malachite. I have some news for you and I want you to call me as soon as you get this. Call me as soon as you get this. It's about..it's about Noriko and Imelda." Jordan swiped at his cheeks in shame, keening in a low breathless voice. Throat burning, Jordan tore into the kitchen craving a drink. He ripped open every cabinet and threw the contents onto the floor. Finding nothing, he moved into the living room and paused, guilt tearing at him as he studied his wife's china cabinet.
He delicately opened the door and poked about. His hands instinctively found a bottle and he removed it cautiously, wiping the dust from his hands on his breeches. He didn't even inspect the label as his popped the cork and flung it across the room and drank deeply, relishing in the burn of the brandy as it seared his throat. With any luck, it would burn his memory as it burned his throat and rob him of any feeling he had left.
******
Morning came slowly-though by sunrise, Jordan no longer cared. He'd listened to the dogs howl and yip all night long as he sipped at his brandy slowly. Jordan remained in his seat, staring out into a sunlit world he no longer belonged to. The neighborhood was awakening around him, children spilling out into the streets as they walked to school, husbands and wives began leaving for work. The communications panel startled Jordan out of his drunken haze and he raised a slurred voice to answer;
"What?" he snarled. "Captain Jordan?" Sir Marmak, perfect. Jordan swore under his breath. "Yeah?" "You're late, Captain." Marmak said. "I was wondering if there was some problem?" Jordan took a deep breath as he tried to decide how to answer. Apparently Marmak took his silence as confirmation, for he continued.
"Captain, I realize that the death-" Marmak paused; "- that your recent losses have to be difficult for you. Perhaps you should reconsider taking leave? No one would fault you for it, Jordan."
"No sir." Jordan said. "I'm sorry for my tardiness. I shall be there within the hour."
******
Jordan staggered to his feet and stumbled toward his bedroom closet. Tugging his breeches and tunic off, he hurriedly redressed in another uniform. Pausing to peer in a mirror, a small part of Jordan's mind wondered if he shouldn't shave first-but he ignored the thought and grabbing his keys from the dresser, he bolted for the front door. Suddenly, he didn't mind escaping his too empty house with its damned memories. The streets were filled with traffic as Millennium City came to life. Jordan groaned to himself as he turned off one of the city's main boulevard's and joined the traffic queue to enter the Silver Palace. Jordan swore loudly as he gunned the engine, flying up the service ramps past the surprised guards. He eased off the accelerator as he passed a little to close to the outside railing. Taking the first empty space he could find, Jordan displayed the day placard and leapt from the car. Grumbling to himself, he slammed the door so hard it nearly wrenched the door from its hinges.
****** The stables were active as always, Jordan could see. He noticed Corin, in his studded bridle and double reins being led toward the breeding shed. The stallion clearly knew what was coming, for he threatened to rear and swept his handlers off their feet. The calls of the mare intensified from within the shed as Corin neared, and his own screams grew louder as he bolted inside. Jordan couldn't restrain a smile as he heard the stallion clamber onto the dummy. "Captain Jordan?" A young officer stood before him at attention. "Yes?" "His Lordship has asked to speak with you at your leisure, sir." Jordan shook his head, rubbing at his jaw line as he did so. "Lead the way, lieutenant." Marmak was just inside the saddling ring, supervising his cadets as they tacked their mounts. Jordan looked about, trying to decide if he knew any of them as Marmak spoke.
"Captain, are you all right?"
"Yes sir." Jordan said tightly. He felt self conscious under the commander's attention.
"Jordan," he said. "If you need anything, son, you ask, all right?"
"Yes sir." Jordan said. "Am I dismissed?"
Marmak waved him off, though he continued to watch as Jordan walked away. Jordan felt anxiety well up within him, though he thought he contained it well. Marmak had never shown such an interest in his personal well-being before. Up until now, Jordan himself had privately wondered about the man's mental state.
******
Jordan had not been happy to find that Jorax was also expected in the breeding shed. He waited impatiently outside his mount's stall as the bridle was fastened and his handlers flanked him on both sides.
"Bring him back as soon as he covers the mare." He ordered. The staffers exchanged uneasy looks over the stallion's wither, and then nervously looked at Jordan.
"We'll try, sir. We'll bring him back as soon as it is safe to do so." One finally said. Jordan waved them off impatiently and skulked off down the barn aisle in search of a temporary mount. He ran a hand impatiently through his hair, feeling slightly ill from his overindulgence the night before. His stomach churned, and he paused to lean against a stall door.
"Sir?" someone called.
"I'm fine." Jordan ground out, standing up slowly. "What do you want?"
"Are you sure you're okay, sir?" a groom stood before him in the immaculate white of the Palace staff.
"Yes, yes." Jordan eyed the man. "What're you doing down here?"
"Her Highness had asked me this morning if I would come attend to Cimarron, he is beginning his work on the line under her Highness tutelage. However, she wasn't able to make it down today, so she asked me to come in her stead."
"Cimarron is under saddle already?" Jordan wondered if he sounded as surprised as he felt.
"No sir, he's only on the line. He's not even a tested stallion yet."
"I see." Jordan rubbed at the stubble on his jaw thoughtfully. "Tell Her Highness that I will work Cimarron today." Jerking his head ruefully toward the breeding shed, Jordan sighed. "My own mount seems to be busy."
"Sir, if you're not feeling-"
"I'll be fine." Jordan barked, only to regret it as the young man flinched.
"Sorry."
"Quite all right sir."
"I'll work Cimarron." Jordan repeated dismissively. With little choice, the young groom showed him to Cimarron's stall, and assisted him with the bridle and surcingle. Wrapping the young stallion's legs and adjusting the side reins, the groom led Cimarron to the arena and sent him out on the circle before handing the lines to Captain Jordan. Jordan paused before finding his hand holds on the lines. A wave of nausea swept through him that threatened to drop him to his knees.
"Captain?" Jordan sucked in a deep breath. "Yes?" he answered through clenched teeth.
"Are you all right, sir?"
"Yes, I'm fine." Jordan slowly relaxed and stood fully upright again. "Fine." He said. The groom looked dubious, but nodded. He patted the young stallion's neck thoughtfully as he slowly headed back to the rail. Jordan nodded to himself and raised his chin.
"Walk on." He commanded. Cimarron walked forward obediently and dropped his head into the side reins, giving to the pressure. After a short warm up, Jordan commanded the young horse to trot, and finally to canter. Jordan watched Cimarron with a practiced eye, pushing him out when he drifted in on his twenty meter circle and bringing him in when he tipped to the outside. He halted him, then switched the rein and line and sent him back out. The twisting and churning began again in his stomach and Jordan instinctively let the line out. Cimarron greedily took up the slack and bounded out, fighting against the side reins. Jordan let the stallion go and fell to his knees. The arena felt distant and blurred around him. Dimly, Jordan realized that he could hear Cimarron's shrill scream as he reared in the reins and flipped himself over backwards, and with that, the world went black.
******
"What happened?" Her Highness sounded most upset, and Jordan wondered at it. She was such a happy child, he'd rarely seen her upset. He struggled to open to his eyes and found himself lying on a medbed flat on his back. He tried to sit up, but couldn't; and finally lie still.
"Captain?" the doctor asked.
"Yes?" he whispered. The doctor held out a cup with a straw and Jordan drank greedily.
"What happened?"
"You don't remember?" the doctor asked. Jordan tried, but he couldn't remember anything beyond the grainy feel of the sand on the arena floor.
"No, I don't." he said honestly. The doctor clucked disparagingly and scanned him thoughtfully.
"Well, there's nothing physically wrong with you that a little sleep won't cure you of." The doctor eyed him. "You want to tell me what's going on?"
"Going on?" he echoed, feeling his hackles start to rise again. Evidently the doctor could see the panic in his eyes; for he pulled up a chair and sat down. "Captain, you're suffering the effects of too much alcohol, and not enough sleep. You want to explain yourself to me?" "No." Jordan said snidely. "I don't want to explain myself." The doctor slanted him a dark look. "You've ruined a fine young horse, Captain. You're in quite a bit of trouble with Her Highness, and I dare say with Her Majesty." Jordan felt the queasiness return.
"What happened with Cimarron?" he asked quietly.
"Cimarron-" the doctor pulled his gloves and made a circuit of the room as he spoke. "-flipped himself over in the side reins. He struck the poll between his ears and was seizing before the grooms could reach him to release him. You know that horses are most at risk to kill themselves when they flip over, and in those side reins, he couldn't avoid injury. They destroyed him on site. You know that young horses are to be worked only by the fittest men." The doctor glared at him. Jordan felt a niggling sense of guilt and looked away. "Her Highness has asked to see you if you're able, and even if you're not." "No." Jordan said firmly. "I don't want to see Her Highness. Not now. I don't feel well." Too late. Her Highness came barreling in the door and let it slam open. She looked exquisite, so like Imelda had been. Imelda had oft been furious with him when he left on his long tours of duty.
"What were you doing, Captain?" she demanded. Jordan could see tears in her large blue eyes.
"I'm sorry, your Highness." He whispered mutely.
"Why?" she asked again, and Jordan heard Imelda asking why he'd been gone so long. "I told you I had to-" Jordan stopped, abruptly, realizing his impudence. "I'm sorry. I just." The governess came in and took Her Highness' hand, guiding her outside. He could see that Her Highness was crying by then, and the governess glared at him as she led the distraught girl away.
"You're released, Captain. But you're on medical leave. I want you to go home and get some sleep. Do you require any sedatives?" the doctor asked brusquely.
"No." Jordan said.
"Very well, you're released." The doctor left, and Jordan slowly sat up, then rose from the bed. Without uttering another word he pulled his jacket on, and left the medlab without a backward glance.
******
He hadn't known what to do with himself, after he'd left. So he'd returned to the stables. Jorax had done his duty in the breeding shed and he was munching happily on his hay when Jordan joined him. He ran a hand lovingly along his crest and tossed a lock of mane back over his neck.
"Well, Jorax, my boy. I've done it now." Jordan impulsively buried his face in Jorax's mane and let himself shed tears for his wife, Imelda, and for himself. After a time Jordan felt his tears dry, and he wiped his nose. Reaching into a secret pocket within the vest, he removed a small flask and drank heartily, toasting those loved and lost. Again. And again. And again.
******
Morning came slowly, but Jordan hadn't realized it. He had wandered out of Jorax's stall some hours before, and weaved his way down the aisle. Jordan's last conscious thought had been the softness of the straw. He lay now, as he had earlier in the evening. The flask lie empty beside him and he nudged it with thickened fingers, hoping to encourage one last drop to emerge from the container. Failing that, Jordan hauled himself out of the hay and staggered drunkenly out into the barn. Red eyed, bleary, Jordan scrubbed at his face and felt the beard stubble. His hands ran through thinning gray hair and left it standing on end before nervously clenching his hands into fists. Imelda wouldn't like to be kissed while he had a beard, he thought idly. She always complained that they were scratchy. But she always kissed him anyway.. Imelda.. Jordan smiled, suddenly, eager to be going home. He'd been away for far too long.
"Going home, Jordan?" someone called.
"Yes sir." Jordan called smartly.
"Have a good leave, Captain."
"I will sir, thank you." Jordan was whistling to himself as he stopped in the stables one last time to say good bye to Jorax, who had just been unloaded and left in his stall.
"Hello, old friend." The stallion pinned his ears and struck out at him. Startled, Jordan watched the stud in some confusion. Jorax had never reacted to his presence while eating, and certainly not with such aggression. In spite of himself, he reached out instinctively to brush his fingers on that silky coat only to snatch them back as the stud snapped at him. "Stop it, Corin." A gentle voice sang out from within for the stallion to stop, and Jordan felt his heart soar as he heard; "Stop it, Jorax."
"Imelda?" he gasped. She appeared at the door of the box, staring at him quizzically, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. She started to say something, but he could only see her lips move as he rushed forward and let her out, then hugged her to him crushingly.
"My little angel, you shouldn't be here without Mommy." He admonished. "But I am happy to see you." She struggled against him and Jordan set her down, taking her hand and smiling down at her.
"Let's go home, shall we?" he asked, without expecting an answer. Jordan ignored the stallion as he snorted and rammed himself against the stall door.
******
Jordan didn't remember Imelda being so oddly silent before. She walked sullenly beside him as he held her hand. Jordan thought that maybe she was upset with him for being gone so long. So entrenched was he in his study of Imelda that he ignored the strange looks he received from the various grooms and stable boys scurrying about the barn. He helped Imelda get into the car, and shut the door before clambering into the driver's side and starting the vehicle. How long it had been since he'd been home! Jordan took the drive home from memory, scarcely looking at the streets as he navigated them. Imelda had remained quiet, staring apprehensively out the window.
"Imelda, sweetie, what's wrong?" She began to speak, but Jordan still couldn't hear her. Shaking his head at her, he took her hand and held it again, firmly.
"It's all right, honey. We'll see what we can do about it, okay?" Imelda looked away again, her already pale face tightening up again before nodding uncertainly. Jordan pulled the car into the carport and shut the engine off. He unbuckled his seat belt hurriedly and raced around to help Imelda with hers.
"There you are, honey." He guided her up into the house. "We're home!" he called, but there was no answer. Only wondering at it a tiny bit, Jordan released Imelda's hand and lifted her onto a stool.
"Would you like a snack, sweetheart?"
"No, thank you." She said primly.
"Are you sure, honey?" he asked again, smiling at her. She was such a pretty child.
"Yes." She said stiffly. Jordan watched her worriedly for a second before returning to the fridge. One of her pictures had come free of its magnets and fell to the floor. He bent down and picked it up, admiring the handiwork of a small child.
"When did you draw this, Imelda?" he asked.
"I didn't." she said darkly, and Jordan watched her carefully.
"Are you feeling okay? You need me to call Mommy, hon?" She shook her head emphatically. "I'm okay." She lied. Jordan could see suddenly that the girl was terrified.
"Imelda, what is it?" he pulled up a stool next to her and watched, worriedly as she scooted as far away from him as she could on her stool. She shook her head, biting her lip as tears sprang to her eyes. Jordan reached out and wiped them away.
"Baby, if it's something you did wrong, you need to tell me or Mommy. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won't be mad."
"You won't be?" she asked.
"No, I won't be mad. I promise." She whispered, in a voice so low he almost didn't hear her. "I'm not Imelda." Jordan felt comprehension dawn and he smothered a smile. "Of course you're not." He said. Her cheeks flushed suddenly. "You knew?" she asked in relief.
"Of course I knew." He said warmly. "Who are you now, Imelda?"
"No!" she screamed suddenly. She slid from her stool and would have run from the room if Jordan hadn't grasped her wrist so tightly that he left finger prints on her delicate skin.
"I'm not Imelda!" she screamed. She burst into tears. "I didn't draw that. I'm not a good drawer." Jordan watched as she collapsed into a heap, sobbing. For a moment, he wasn't sure what to do. He reached out delicately and brushed back a stray strand of hair and tilted her chin up to see her eyes. Deep blue eyes stared back at him fearfully, rimmed in red and covered with tears. Not Imelda's. Not Imelda's. And he remembered- Riotsfiresbombsexplosionsbloodsweattears. Tears. Imelda's green eyes- Blue. Jordan felt as though he had been slugged in the gut. Reality crashed about him as though released from a great dam and he could see Her Highness sitting huddled before him, crying bitterly. She was shivering in fright, and nothing like his sweet Imelda. "God." He muttered, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "Oh God." From outside a voice echoed commandingly, and Jordan realized for the first time that his cozy little house was surrounded by the Royal Guard. "Captain Jordan, you are hereby ordered to release your hostage. Do it now, Captain, and avoid the death sentence." Jordan sucked in a breath and studied her Highness. She clutched her tiny wrist loosely, he could see from the angle from which it hung that it was badly sprained, if not broken.
"Your Highness." He whispered. "I'm so sorry." She looked up fearfully and he held out a hand gently. After a long pause, she took it slowly, and he helped her to her feet.
"The guard have come to take you home, your Highness." He said. "Do you think you can open the door and let yourself out?" She nodded, and Jordan gave her a weak smile. "Then go, your Highness. And- " She'd started for the door, and then paused when he did.
"I'm sorry, your Highness. I never meant to hurt you." Jordan fought against his grief as it rose in him. He could see nothing but Imelda and Noriko and couldn't hear anything but the sound of his own breath as it whistled in his ears. Her Highness's cold hands touched his and he felt his heart leap into his chest. Without warning, he seized the child about the waist and hugged her close before releasing her. The smile she gave him went far to melt the ice around his heart. Her Highness was on her way home, Jordan could hear his front door opening, and the shouted orders for them to "stand down". He positioned himself near the front window to watch as Her Highness bounded out to a waiting Lieutenant, who swept her off her feet and carried her back to a armored vehicle. Ignoring the orders being issued to him over the bullhorn, Jordan reached into a bureau drawer and removed a wrapped object. He looked out the window, but no longer saw anything. Jordan could feel the metallic weight in his hand. Raising his gaze skyward, he whispered a prayer and pressed the barrel to his temple. Closing his eyes, he pulled the trigger.