The Hanged Man represents sacrifice or
ordeal. Afterward, though, he may feel his card is really The
Fool.
Epilogue: 3052 AD
“That’s it?” McClennon asked. Captain
McClennon now. Midshipmen Storm and McClennon crewed the winning
sunjammer in that long-ago Regatta.
Captain Masato Storm, Confederation Navy (Intelligence),
replied, “You asked about the Shadowline and why I hate
Sangaree. I told you.” The ghosts of earlier days haunted his
eyes as he studied the night sky thirty degrees off galactic
center. There, in a few thousand years, if anyone were around to
see from this vantage point, a bright new star would bloom.
McClennon freshened his drink. “Want to finish this game
before Jupp gets here?” He moved to the chess table. Their
game had been deadlocked for hours.
“I suppose.” Mouse kept staring at the sky. “I
can’t believe it, I know it happened, but I still can’t
believe it.”
Seldom had McClennon seen Mouse so disconnected. “Cassius
and Dee dying might look like the end of it to you. Because they
were the last principals. But you weren’t really talking
about the Legion. Or the Shadowline War. You were explaining the
survivors. Especially Mouse.”
“Maybe. You’re right. Okay. We had to round up
Michael’s men and defuse those bombs and get our people out
of the Shadowline. We did it, with the help from Darkside Landing
and The City of Night . . . Wait a minute. What
do you mean, explaining the survivors?”
“Seemed to me you were really explaining Masato
Storm.”
Mouse’s gaze shifted to a section of sky where a new war
raged. Humankind and its allies were locked in a ferocious struggle
with a nasty enemy.
“You know, my uncle really blew it. He could’ve
gotten away if he’d kept his cool.”
“How so?”
“He always had that one more trick up his sleeve. The last
one surprised everybody. We never had a hint till we found out we
had to storm Edgeward.”
“What do you mean?” McClennon asked, just trying to
keep Mouse talking. He had worked for the commission investigating
the Shadowline war. He knew most of the answers. But his friend
needed herding out of the depth-less morass of depression.
“That trick of Michael’s. He had some minority board
members in his pocket. They pulled a coup. It wasn’t hard to
change their minds, but Michael could’ve changed his face and
disappeared in the confusion.”
“Then the commission descended on you.”
“Like vultures. Lucky for me, my father, Cassius, and
Richard had heavy drag in Luna Command. They didn’t hurt us
too bad. The holding corporation is still in business.”
“What about the girl?”
“Polly? She went back to the Modelmog. Found out she
couldn’t stand the Shakespeare thing anymore. Changed her
name again and went into holodrama. You’d recognize her if
you saw her. She’s completely different now. Getting
something you want bad does that, I guess.”
“And the
Sangaree? Deeth?”
“Who knows?” Storm left the window long enough to
fix himself a drink. “Maybe he died at Helga’s World.
Maybe during the Fortress attack. Maybe during the chase afterward.
Or maybe he got away. Sometimes I think he did.”
McClennon finally selected a move. He offered a pawn trade.
“Your move. Why’s that?”
“The Sangaree fleet the Starfishers engaged at
Stars’ End. That wasn’t just a Family raidfleet. A
dozen Families must have gone in on the operation. Which should
have meant chaos in the fleet’s command structure. But they
were damned near as efficient as any human fleet.”
“So?”
“So Deeth had a thing about organization and discipline.
And he had the willpower and stubbornness and sheer insane vendetta
spirit to put a thing like that together. I’m not saying it
was him the Fishers fought. I’m just saying that fleet had
his feel.”
“Then you think you’re going around the circle
again? That now it’s their turn to get revenge?”
“Maybe. There’s plenty of them left. If they could
find a way to mate off
Homeworld . . . ”
“They’ve always had that, Mouse. Your move.”
Mouse accepted the pawn trade. “Your uncle Michael was
conceived on Prefactlas. And he was no mule. They just need to
overcome their prejudices.”
Mouse dropped his drink. “Breeding slaves. Why
didn’t I think of that? I wonder if Beckhart
knows?”
“He knows everything. That’s his job. Drop him a
reminder anyway, if it’ll make you feel better.”
Mouse snickered wickedly. “For a minute I thought I was
unemployed.”
“For a while I’d hoped you’d quit. What
now?”
“Polly is going to be here next week. Some kind of tour.
She’s got our kid with her. Maybe we’ll skip over to
the Fortress and see my brothers.”
“You said . . . ”
“He didn’t destroy it. He just killed everybody. Ben
and Homer live there now. Couple of crazy old hermits. They keep
the family business rolling. When’s Jupp going to get
here?”
“Tonight, I hope. What do you think? Should I accept that
offer from Ubichi?”
“Resign? Beckhart wouldn’t let you. There’s a
war on, you know.”
“Suppose he did?”
“Then walk carefully. Luna Command is watching them. The
merc forces are gone. Now they’re looking for excuses to
break up the company police forces.”
“At least the companies are run by honest crooks, not
sanctimonious bandits like Admiral Beckhart.”
Mouse looked angry. He growled, “We’d better let the
game slide. Call me if Jupp turns up.” He stalked out of the
room.
McClennon turned to stare at the night sky. Mouse conspired in
the destruction of an entire Sangaree star system? That was a lot
of revenge. Norbon w’Deeth, are you out there somewhere? Are you
polishing your guns, getting ready to come to town? Will the cycle
continue round, and never mind the greater, more desperate struggle
down toward the galactic core?
“Hate is the worst poison,” McClennon muttered.
“Mouse, your father was right when he told you to go back to
Academy. You should have listened.”
The Hanged Man represents sacrifice or
ordeal. Afterward, though, he may feel his card is really The
Fool.
Epilogue: 3052 AD
“That’s it?” McClennon asked. Captain
McClennon now. Midshipmen Storm and McClennon crewed the winning
sunjammer in that long-ago Regatta.
Captain Masato Storm, Confederation Navy (Intelligence),
replied, “You asked about the Shadowline and why I hate
Sangaree. I told you.” The ghosts of earlier days haunted his
eyes as he studied the night sky thirty degrees off galactic
center. There, in a few thousand years, if anyone were around to
see from this vantage point, a bright new star would bloom.
McClennon freshened his drink. “Want to finish this game
before Jupp gets here?” He moved to the chess table. Their
game had been deadlocked for hours.
“I suppose.” Mouse kept staring at the sky. “I
can’t believe it, I know it happened, but I still can’t
believe it.”
Seldom had McClennon seen Mouse so disconnected. “Cassius
and Dee dying might look like the end of it to you. Because they
were the last principals. But you weren’t really talking
about the Legion. Or the Shadowline War. You were explaining the
survivors. Especially Mouse.”
“Maybe. You’re right. Okay. We had to round up
Michael’s men and defuse those bombs and get our people out
of the Shadowline. We did it, with the help from Darkside Landing
and The City of Night . . . Wait a minute. What
do you mean, explaining the survivors?”
“Seemed to me you were really explaining Masato
Storm.”
Mouse’s gaze shifted to a section of sky where a new war
raged. Humankind and its allies were locked in a ferocious struggle
with a nasty enemy.
“You know, my uncle really blew it. He could’ve
gotten away if he’d kept his cool.”
“How so?”
“He always had that one more trick up his sleeve. The last
one surprised everybody. We never had a hint till we found out we
had to storm Edgeward.”
“What do you mean?” McClennon asked, just trying to
keep Mouse talking. He had worked for the commission investigating
the Shadowline war. He knew most of the answers. But his friend
needed herding out of the depth-less morass of depression.
“That trick of Michael’s. He had some minority board
members in his pocket. They pulled a coup. It wasn’t hard to
change their minds, but Michael could’ve changed his face and
disappeared in the confusion.”
“Then the commission descended on you.”
“Like vultures. Lucky for me, my father, Cassius, and
Richard had heavy drag in Luna Command. They didn’t hurt us
too bad. The holding corporation is still in business.”
“What about the girl?”
“Polly? She went back to the Modelmog. Found out she
couldn’t stand the Shakespeare thing anymore. Changed her
name again and went into holodrama. You’d recognize her if
you saw her. She’s completely different now. Getting
something you want bad does that, I guess.”
“And the
Sangaree? Deeth?”
“Who knows?” Storm left the window long enough to
fix himself a drink. “Maybe he died at Helga’s World.
Maybe during the Fortress attack. Maybe during the chase afterward.
Or maybe he got away. Sometimes I think he did.”
McClennon finally selected a move. He offered a pawn trade.
“Your move. Why’s that?”
“The Sangaree fleet the Starfishers engaged at
Stars’ End. That wasn’t just a Family raidfleet. A
dozen Families must have gone in on the operation. Which should
have meant chaos in the fleet’s command structure. But they
were damned near as efficient as any human fleet.”
“So?”
“So Deeth had a thing about organization and discipline.
And he had the willpower and stubbornness and sheer insane vendetta
spirit to put a thing like that together. I’m not saying it
was him the Fishers fought. I’m just saying that fleet had
his feel.”
“Then you think you’re going around the circle
again? That now it’s their turn to get revenge?”
“Maybe. There’s plenty of them left. If they could
find a way to mate off
Homeworld . . . ”
“They’ve always had that, Mouse. Your move.”
Mouse accepted the pawn trade. “Your uncle Michael was
conceived on Prefactlas. And he was no mule. They just need to
overcome their prejudices.”
Mouse dropped his drink. “Breeding slaves. Why
didn’t I think of that? I wonder if Beckhart
knows?”
“He knows everything. That’s his job. Drop him a
reminder anyway, if it’ll make you feel better.”
Mouse snickered wickedly. “For a minute I thought I was
unemployed.”
“For a while I’d hoped you’d quit. What
now?”
“Polly is going to be here next week. Some kind of tour.
She’s got our kid with her. Maybe we’ll skip over to
the Fortress and see my brothers.”
“You said . . . ”
“He didn’t destroy it. He just killed everybody. Ben
and Homer live there now. Couple of crazy old hermits. They keep
the family business rolling. When’s Jupp going to get
here?”
“Tonight, I hope. What do you think? Should I accept that
offer from Ubichi?”
“Resign? Beckhart wouldn’t let you. There’s a
war on, you know.”
“Suppose he did?”
“Then walk carefully. Luna Command is watching them. The
merc forces are gone. Now they’re looking for excuses to
break up the company police forces.”
“At least the companies are run by honest crooks, not
sanctimonious bandits like Admiral Beckhart.”
Mouse looked angry. He growled, “We’d better let the
game slide. Call me if Jupp turns up.” He stalked out of the
room.
McClennon turned to stare at the night sky. Mouse conspired in
the destruction of an entire Sangaree star system? That was a lot
of revenge. Norbon w’Deeth, are you out there somewhere? Are you
polishing your guns, getting ready to come to town? Will the cycle
continue round, and never mind the greater, more desperate struggle
down toward the galactic core?
“Hate is the worst poison,” McClennon muttered.
“Mouse, your father was right when he told you to go back to
Academy. You should have listened.”