Tale 4: Don't Cry Little Warrior

Seven years before the Battle of Corpagia

1:32 A.M. Bates St.; Deser City, Jerethia Continent; Tunesean Colony 24(Sudia)

"This thing really brings out the details," Clara said in awe as she stared through the telescope lens at the planet Polodar, Sudia's sister planet. The jewel almost filled the entire view, as beautiful as a diamond, and glittering like a star. "That's pretty."

"Aye, that it is," said the smooth Irish voice of her husband, Lionel Thompson. "That beauty never really loses its polish if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Clara agreed in a tired voice. "But...why do we always have to stay up to look at it at one-thirty in the morning when it looks so much better at, like, nine or ten?" She asked, rubbing her eyes. "Or possibly when its warmer."

Lionel chuckled lightly, and wrapped her arm around her blanketed waist. "Sure, but the lights are usually their dimmest aroun' this time. And besides, you know I can't sleep on nights like this. Where there isn't a cloud in the sky..."

"Hmm," Clara huffed. "You have trouble sleeping on any night, or at least–"that wasn't what she wanted to say–"you should, considering how loud you snore."

Lionel laughed and scooted his chair next to hers. "Yeah, sorry abou' that. But that and the sky are only half of the reason I don't sleep at night sometimes." He leaned into her, pressing his cheek against her warm one. "The other half is you."

Clara snickered. "Oh, please," she said sarcastically, looking in the opposite direction.

Lionel smacked lips and nodded in understanding. "Ah." He smacked his lips again. "I see how it is."

She smiled humorously, but those muscles felt very heavy, as did most of her head right now. "Can we go to bed now? I'm tired." She shivered. "And cold."

"Sure," Lionel answered, grabbing the lens cap and placing it on the lens. He then threw his blanket off and over his shoulder.

As Clara forced herself to rise, Lionel hunched over and threw his weight against the telescope, picking it up, easily, off the ground. Hoisting it on one shoulder, he reached down and plucked up the plastic chair he had been sitting in, and placed that on his other arm. Clara stood up by her chair, staring at him anxiously. "Lionel," she whined, flapping her elbows and gesturing to her chair.

Lionel stopped in place and raised an eyebrow. "You're not that tired are ya?"

Clara fed him her wide puppy-eye look.

The tall Irish man rolled his dark eyes, and extended his left arm, which he held his chair on. "Put it on."

She broke out into an energetic smile, and gladly stacked her chair on top. "I love you, you know, right?"

"Oh yeah, Clara," Lionel replied truthfully. "Or at least, you'd better."

Clara smiled lovingly at her husband, stepping closer and wrapping her arm around his waist. Laying her tired head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes and rested for the time being. They walked a long distance, up and down the hill––Lionel always looked at the stars from the view of the Garder Park hill across the street from their house.

Suddenly Lionel stopped walking, swinging his shoulder in an attempt to keep the telescope from slipping off. But he failed, and had to put the scope down to get a better grip on it.

Having lost her pillow for the moment, Clara stared seriously at her husband. "You should get, like, a Hymus or something. That way you wouldn't have to carry as much."

Lionel waved off the suggestion with his hand. "Ahh, I don' need one-a those. This one's fine. Don' need all that–computer—automated crap; takes away the fun of findin' stars on yur own."

Clara shrugged. "Okay."

Lionel grunted as he re-hoisted the telescope on his shoulder, and resumed walking. However, he only took two strides before he stopped again, but not because of the telescope, but because of who he, and Clara, saw standing in the light of their front doorway. At this distance, the silhouette was nothing but a shadow pounding relentlessly on the door, calling "Hello?!" and "Clara?!" very loudly, disrupting the peace of the night and the silence of all the beautiful stars.

Lionel craned his head and started down the hill towards the house, Clara keeping step with him. "'Ey!" Lionel called.

The person knocking didn't hear him.

"'Ey!" Lionel called again, louder.

The figure, Clara guessed, turned around and stared in their direction for a while. "Lionel?!" came the shout in a baritone voice. "Is that you?!"

Lionel paused in suspicion. "Who are you?!"

"Michael Morano!" came the answer.

"Michael?!" Clara yelled in surprise. What is he doing here?

"Clara!"

Who cares? He's here.

Michael finally came into view, his red hair very dark against the black sky, but nevertheless visible. However, that was basically the only thing that shone on him; the rest of his body was still hidden in shadow. He was still as thin as he always had been, and just as tall. As Clara and her old best friend embraced for the first time in years, her tired muscles and bones came alive again. She had been wanting to see him again for months now. Ever since his starship company had been sabotaged and then shut down, he'd been out of sight; vanished completely.

"Where have you been?" Clara asked as she broke the embrace.

Michael thought for a second, eyes scanning the sky, as if he was hoping to find an answer there. After a few moments, though, he shrugged. "Around."

It was now that she noticed that he was panting furiously. And he was hunched over slightly, like he'd just run a long marathon.

Lionel noticed it too. "Are ya all right, buddy? Ya look very tired."

Michael bent over, placing his hands on his knees and nodding. "Very." He pointed down the hill to the house. "Could we go inside?"

"Sure," Clara answered. "I'll get you some water when we get it. You look terrible."

Michael glanced over at her in exhaustion. "Nice to see you too."

--

Lionel stirred the last mug of juice quickly, with his Irish reflexes whirling the spoon to practically a blur without spilling any of the contents. Batting the steel utensil against the rim of the stormy mug, he set it down in the sink and lifted two of the three mugs into his hands. Clara and Michael's voices echoed from the other room as Lionel made his way out of the kitchen. Just as he entered the living room, his wife half-shouted "No!" in anger. The shout made Lionel start in surprise, and some of the liquid in the mugs splashed out of the mug and onto the wooden floor. "Whoa," Lionel cautioned, confused. Clara was glaring over at Michael, stone-faced in anger. Meanwhile, Michael had the expression of a beggar, only not on his knees. But by the desperate look on his face, Lionel guessed it wouldn't be long before he was on his knees. It was Lionel who finally broke the awkward silence that followed the shout. "What's wrong?"

"He's a criminal!" Clara blurted immediately, pointing at Michael.

Lionel did a double take. "I beg yer pardon?"

"He's a criminal!" Clara repeated, again pointing to Michael. "And he wants us to give him asylum."

Setting the mugs on the coffee table, Lionel crossed his arms on his chest. "What?" He asked to Michael.

The other man turned his pleading eyes to Lionel. "I've been smuggling weapons and information to the Alliance for the past year. The Empire has me marked at number fifteen on their hit list."

Lionel raised an eyebrow. "Oh," he said passively. "Simply for smugglin'? Fifteen? That's a high number." His eyes stole a glance at Clara, who still seemed very angry. "What else ya do?"

"Does it matter?" Clara snapped. "Fifteen is high enough to have the Empire come after him in full force, not to mention half the bounty hunters."

"I also—" Michael started, then hesitated. After a moment of what appeared to be deep thought, he continued, "destroyed a Super Star Destroyer while it was still in dry dock." He looked down at the floor.

"Oh, I heard abou' that," Lionel commented. "The Cobra sabotage. That was you?"

Michael nodded anxiously. "Mmhmm."

"Hmm," Lionel sounded in thought. "And that's where yave been lately? I mean, ever since the company went under?"

Michael's expression darkened. "Yeah. I've been trying to get back at the people who sabotaged it, but ended up getting involved in the War. And now I can't find them anymore."

"I see," Lionel nodded. "And who ya searchin for?"

"Ledar Prill. He's Crystal Star. He and five other people from the Crystal Star were the ones who destroyed my factory on Deridia."

"Whoa," Lionel said in awe. "So it was the Crystal Star who shut ya down.?" He paused in disbelief. "So that's what happened to ya...don't know what ta say."

He went back to pleading. "I just need to stay one night, and then I'll be gone, I promise."

"No!" Clara said again, still retaining the sharpness in her voice.

Lionel fixed her with sour look. "Excuse me..." he cautioned, eyeing her seriously.

"Lionel! No! I don't want us to get involved in this war! Keeping him means we're hiding an Alliance—spy! We can't do that! No, Lionel!"

"It's only one night!" Michael snapped in response.

"Okay, okay," Lionel said quickly. He rushed over to his wife, wrapped both arms around her waist, and planted a kiss on her cheek. To Clara: "You. Calm down." To Michael: "You....enjoy that drink." Back to Clara: "You. Kitchen." He turned her around and gave her a gentle shove towards the kitchen entrance. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Lionel! No–!" she objected.

"Please?" Lionel asked, looking her straight in her beautiful eyes, trying to stare them down, even though he had never done that before. She always won the eye battle. But he didn't fail this time. A moment later, she sighed disapprovingly and stormed into the kitchen. Staring after her a little regretfully, Lionel turned back to the bewildered Michael. "Yu'll have ta excuse her," he half-whispered, moving closer to him. "She really, really doesn't want ta get involved in this War. That's why we moved all the way out here; ta get as far away as possible as we could from the War." Pausing a moment, he continued. "I'll talk to 'er, though; see what I can do. Stay here though."

Michael nodded. "Okay. Tell her just one night. That's it."

Lionel nodded doubtfully. "I'll try, but no guarantees. Can I ask you a question though. Why did ya tell her all that bad stuff abou' you? If you wanted asylum, then ya shouldn'ta mentioned all that. Why'd ya do that?"

Michael stared at him defensively. "I'm not gonna lie to her. I'm one of her best friends. We've been best friends for years."

Not after tonight, Lionel thought. "Aye," he said in acknowledgment. He grinned. "Yore I a sucker for the eyes," he concluded.

Michael grinned in humor too. "Yeah..."

Lionel stood up. "So am I," he admitted under his breath. Sighing, he made his way into the kitchen, where he found Clara leaning on the counter top, staring at her husband with contempt. "We can't let him stay here, Lionel. We can't."

Always hating to argue with her, he tensely walked up to the counter and stared at her from across it. "Now Clara, he's desperate. Give 'im a break, all 'ight? He just wants ta stay for one night. We can let him–"

"No," Clara answered. "What if they find him here? He could stay in a hotel instead."

Lionel couldn't help from laughing at that. "Yure in quite a mood tonight," he commented off-hand. "If he goes to a hotel, him being number fifteen on the Empire's hit list; how long do ya think it'll take 'em to figure out 'hoo he is? Clara, you and I both know that hotels keep records of all their guests. Records, and pictures, they check every time someone checks in. He wouldn't last an hour in a hotel."

Clara glared stubbornly at him.

Lionel could tell she was trying to think of another objection, but her mind was apparently drawing a blank. "It's just one night, Clara. That's it, that's all he's asking. And," he added quickly, making sure she didn't get a chance to respond. "I think you really want him to stay here, even though he is an Alliance spy."

She turned away from him, looking down at the ground, defeated. "No, I don't want..." she sighed.

Lionel grinned, and stepped around the counter to her side. "Oh, yes you do."

She continued to stare at the floor.

"Just one night, Clara...then we'll discuss it in the morning."

Clara snapped her head up. "One night and he's gone in the morning." Her fierce eyes bore up into his.

And Lionel Thompson knew the fight was over. "Fine," he surrendered.

"Okay," she agreed.

"I'll get 'im set up and everything in the guest room." He picked up his mug and took a quick sip of the Tunese mud tea.

"Mmhmm. I'm going to bed. Night," she said, giving him a short kiss.

"Night," Lionel said in return.

She turned her back to him and walked tiredly towards the stairs.

Sighing, he took another sip of his tea, and headed back into the living room.