EPILOGUE:

Outreach, Fall Present, 3067.

  The wind along the starport blew at his face and made him shiver a little bit. His blond hair had been combed neatly but since it was cut short it really didn't matter. He was dressed in a black and red suit that signified him as a cadet in the Dragoon's training school but this occasion had nothing to do with it.

  When he heard the news in a private HPG message addressed specifically to him a few days before, he at first did not want to believe in it. It was as if he was playing one of his imaginary games and he could somehow say "Stop" and that would be the end of it. A part of him thought it was just some sort of joke and that maybe it was all a dream, that he would wake up and find out that it wasn't really true. It wasn't until he was called into the headmaster's office and asked if he would like some time off from his studies that it finally hit him like a bolt of lightning.

  He didn't say anything but from his silence the teachers had got the message. He was sent back to his room in the dormitory and since classes were still in session, his roommate wasn't there. So he collapsed onto his bunk and cried for what seemed like hours until his roommate did return and asked what had happened. He still didn't say anything but since his roommate was told about it, he left him alone and proceeded to the mess hall when the chime signifying chow was heard.

  Duncan McGavin didn't eat for the rest of that day. He just didn't have the appetite for it.

  The DropShip's engines finally went idle and the ramps from its cargo doors had begun their descent onto the tarmac. Duncan continued to shiver as another blast of cold from the north swirled around his little body. Despite the fact that the cold made him numb and dizzy, he would hold up until he got back to the dorm. He needed to show them all that he was strong. He looked around and saw the tech crews also feeling the cold. Weather reports from over a dozen different worlds all told the same thing: winter was coming sooner than expected.

  Duncan bit his lip but maintained his stone-like composure even as the coffin was rolled out from the DropShip's ramp onto the tarmac. It was one of the old-fashioned types, made from solid oak, it had a brown-lacquered finish and had a flag of the Star League draped over it. The little boy's legs trembled as he saw who was guiding the coffin along.

  Natasha Kerensky walked around the coffin and faced the blond eight year-old. She was wearing sunglasses and was half-hidden in an all-black overcoat that seemed to surround her body in darkness. She took her sunglasses off and faced him with tired eyes. Duncan couldn't stand it any longer and ran towards her, wrapping his little arms around her kneeling body as he buried his head onto her shoulders and began to cry.

  "Oh Duncan, I'm so sorry." Natasha was crying as well.

  Duncan's voice was stammering through the tears. "I-it's not your fault, Nasty."

  "Duncan, everyone I love has died." Natasha spoke softly as the grief was so overwhelming. "I think it might be better if I leave you."

  "Nasty, p-please don't leave me." Duncan could barely talk but he kept at it. "I'm all alone now. You're all I have left." He pleaded through the tears.

  The Black Widow held the little boy in her arms as tight as she could. And they both wept.