Free and Accepted Fnordette Sophie Noir "bobbed" slightly on the bridge of the Veranda.Vixen as her anti-grav fields adjusted to the huge ship's descent to Port Canaria.
Sophie seldom left Gran Canaria these days. She was usually busy overseeing the Cafe, the bustling Bakery in the attached building, or down at the cavernous Waverly LLC warehouse at the Port itself.
As the Waverlys' Business Manager, her onboard database tracked every credit and product, including the portion still delegated to the Church of Eris.
And business was good. Whatever commotion was going on in the Yukon system, orders had begun to stack up. After consulting with Moira in her "runabout", Sophie commandeered the Vixen to keep the Flax flowing, rather than having the huge transport sit idly at Freeport 14 for some indefinite period.
Sophie reviewed her data on the Yukon "sitiuation", and correlated it with what she "knew" from other sources. Probability was high that Reggie's old partner was involved.
Whatever his eccentricites and foibles, Sophie had always "liked" Malaclypse. His brain was the closest thing to a "random stochastic generator" she had ever detected in the primates she was involved with. Now, if the old fart could just learn to use it.
As the Vixen touched down, Sophie activated the Intercomm.
*That's it, guys. We're caught up for awhile. The Kentigearna will bring Reg and Moira home when they're done. Go visit your families for a few days. I've got pies to bake.*
"...and that was how Canaria's 'Dung Festival' became the annual 'Harvest Festival'. I still have to live down the dubious honor of judging the Dung Sculpture Contest, which they kept alive out of habit."
There were a few subdued chuckles from the other "rejects" from the Enclave Summit. Reggie' efforts to keep the mens' minds off the closed session at the Enclave had met with limited success. The tall gleaming spires of the Virulian Temple could be seen from their outdoor table; and Summers especially kept glancing away towards the compound, his anger still obviously near the boiling point.
They sat in silence for a few moments. Reggie motioned to their waiter for more coffee, and turned to the young Administrator.
"Dane, I have known John Henry for many years. I am certain that he and the other Zoner leaders will not leave you flapping in the wind, son. These are just the preliminaries, and the whole bloody process could go on for days, if not longer...
"My best advice would be to let the 'old hands' dance around the issues for awhile. Agendas will be revealed.. terms will be identified and discussed; and when the time comes, you will be better informed and prepared as to how best to proceed and make your case."
Reggie raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Summers, wondering if the young man had absorbed anything of what he had said.
Dane looked back at Reggie, his eyes pulling off the complex.
Behind him, he saw an stuffed chair, complete with ottoman, that sat unoccupied.
In a moment, he wondered when the last time he'd slept was, and couldn't remember. For Dane, in space, sleep came calling whether it was needed or not. It's how he'd always been - its what had drawn him to space so long ago. Heh...long ago...it was only a year...
...a year...jeez...has it only been that long...?
He shook his head, alluva sudden weary and tired. He looked Reggie in the eyes.
"I cant remember the last time I slept...i think im gonna try and catch a bit...could you do me a favor? Wake me when it's time, ok?"
With that, he got up, and fell into the chair, put one leg up, leaned his head back, and gazed into the distant blue horizon. His mind drifted to his old home, Los Angeles, and again...he could swear...he smelled the ocean.
The last thing he thought of, before falling into a deep sleep...was that this was the first time he'd ever fallen asleep, so fast, on the ground. It was the first time in his life.
Reggie was in awe, glancing at the young Administrator. Summers hadn't twitched a muscle for the past two hours. Normally, two cups of Sophie's dark roast would have the synapses jumping like mad.
There had been no "recall" from the Enclave. Glancing at his wrist, he assumed that the Delegates had adjourned for supper. Goddess knew if they would even reconvene by "nightfall".
He punched in a local FnordNet number.
"Veranda."
"Yes, Charles? Please inform Moira that we may have guests for the evening, number still indeterminate. Prepare four rooms, just in case. Lay out a light buffet on the sideboard as well."
"Very well, Mr. Waverly. We'll be ready."
Reggie punched in another number, and left a voice message:
"Doc, it's Reg. If the Summit bogs down and you don't feel like humping back to Tombstone, we'd love to have you at the Veranda. Let me know, eh?"
He disconnected, and looked again at Summers, sleeping peacefully. He walked to the large overstuffed, and touched the man gently on the shoulder.
"Dane? It's getting late, and you must be famished." Summers roused a bit, blinking in confusion for a moment.
"If you have no overnight plans, I've made arrangements up the road at the Veranda. What say, lad?"
She was pulling him toward the ocean, the laughter on her face and in her eyes, and as he looked at her, and the dreamy orange sunset beyond, he knew he'd spend the rest of his life with her. The wind whipped her hair into thousand golden brown lashes, and her green eyes sparkled...
The view faded, but he could still see the orange sunset - he could still smell the sea - but not the wind, and not her touch. The hand on his shoulder roused him awake, and as he came to wakefullness, the dream washed away like a rolling wave on a beach. A deep pang of loss touched him, and he knew, that the perfect love he had known was gone.
But, the truth was...it had been gone for a long time. He just couldn't remember her name.
He let out a deep breath and stretched. The sleep was good, but he still felt like he needed more. At least a week.
"Thanks man...yeah, food is good, and a bed would be great."
He thought a moment, looked down at his ragged clothes, smelled his t-shirt and winced...
"And another thing...you wouldn't happen to have a tailor around that could get me a suit at short notice, do you?"
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Angry, John Holliday stormed into the cafe. He paid little mind as he blew by Dane Summers and mistakenly bumped into Reggie Waverly as he passed. As he walked, his robes parted a bit in the passing air revealing the two pistols he kept hidden inside. Upon reaching the bar, his robes settled but Doc didn't. He took a seat and bellowed at the barkeep, "Norman, whiskey, straight up!" Norman didn't argue, placing a shot glass and the bottle before Doc who immediately poured a shot and downed it only to repeat it again.
Then he sat, angry, making comments under his breath. Still most around him could hear them.
"Baroness Snowdown," he muttered, slamming his fist on the bar simotaneously, "that Bretonian Bitch! At least now I know her intentions."
He poured another shot and downed it as Norman could only watch, concerned that his old friend was regressing back to something he once was and didn't want to be anymore.
"Summer!" Doc bellowed, wanting to speak with him. Once Dane arrived, he lowered his tone and lectured him, "Give them nothing! Bretonia wants your base and more or less admitted that if you don't do as they ask.....I mean demand, they'll just board your base and take it like the expansionists bastards that they are."
Doc forced a soft smile, "I believe you have a group there that is second to none in hand to hand combat and are numerous in number. Gorkon leads them I do believe."
It was then that his datapad chime went off with a message. As Doc read it, he smirked. "It would appear that Queen Carina herself wants to speake with me. Maybe I'll have better luck speaking with her than her cronie!"
As Doc composed himself an put himself back together, he went to speak with Reggie and Dane.
"I must leave this conference, Reggie," he began, "I would appreciate it if you would fill in for me as needed. It's simple. I don't give a damn what Snowdown claims, I signed nothing so these so-called treaties with us are not recognized."
He then addressed both him and Dane, "Like I said, give them nothing. Omega 3 is still a neutral zone as far as I'm concerned so we don't recognize there claim."
He then smirked, "I still hold the original agreement to the Port Jackson Accords since I both negotiated it and signed it. They keep pushing, they can take all of their people off of the colony as well." His face then went straight, "I've had enough. I don't bluff!"
He then gathered his shuttle crew to make his way for New London.
Dane stood there, listening, but his mind wandered. Something in his heart felt hollow, just a bit, just enough to feel it. He kept trying to remember who she was. he could see her face clearly, he knew her from his memories, and that beach, that sunset...it had happened. He remembered the date clearly, and he remembered driving up there, and laughing about some joke...he remembered it all so clearly.
But he couldn't remember her name. It haunted him, because he could hear her voice, her laughter, he could even remember her smell, her taste...
But not her name.
He looked up at Doc, trying to keep focused, and heard his words. As he left, Dane turned to Reggie and shrugged.
"Tomorrow morning, i guess we'll go over some things. I need a suit, and time to gather my thoughts. More then that, i need food - Im gonna grab a bit, and get some more sleep, if i can..."
He let out a deep breath, ambling toward the cafe bar. Pulling up the menu interface, flipping through screens, his mind thousands of light years away, years in time, on a golden beach, a sunset in the background, and laughter...
He was halfway between looking at a plate of spare ribs, over wondering about pasta, when it hit.
The hollow ache turned into a wave, and he remembered...
He shut his eyes, but still couldn't stop the rush that flooded them. The feel of heartbreak was crushing, and he remembered. he remembered everything about it.
He remembered how he said he had loved her. He remembered her saying it to him.
And he remembered every thing he did, every wrong word, every single fight, every single lonely night, and all the times he cried, all the times he raged...
He remembered how she stopped saying it, and how the days grew longer, into weeks, until they grew into months.
He remembered how she was gone.
...and that his first love song, to her, couldn't bring her back...
"Hey, you OK kid?" Norman asked
"Yeah" Dane said, letting out a held breath, opening his flooded eyes, trying to hide them, too ashamed to show them, wishing he was in the middle of an open field, a thousand miles from anyone or anything.
"Ill have this" he pointed to a basket of fried chicken, "...and a bottle of bourbon, please."
Norman nodded, concerned, sparing a glance toward where John had left. "Ok kid...chicken and bourbon comin' right up."
Reg Waverly had not seen John Henry this upset in years. Whatever had transpired at the Enclave's Temple, it had punctured the Ambassador's aplomb like an 8-penny nail in a cheap tire.
The hour was getting late, and young Summers seemed to be attacking the bottle of bourbon more than Sophie's chicken. Reggie doubted they'd be "summoned" back to the Summit until "morning".
It was time to leave. Reggie rose and walked to the young Administrator seated at the counter. "Dane, I think we can safely say that the Summit won't convene again tonight. I have an old guitar at the Veranda that needs tuning. Think you could help me out?"
Within minutes the pair were headed out of town on Reg's Hoverbout. They would both need clear heads on the morrow.
He was torn. At war inside himself.
He stared at the bottle, gripped it white knuckle, and fought his dire, even ravenous need to guzzle the thing, to drown himself in alcohol, to drink himself to death. It was all he wanted.
Only thing in life that truly terrified Dane was what he had just uncovered. He had nearly drown in the surf as a kid, and laughed it off. Been nearly murdered by Kusari Navy and it made him angry. Nearly eaten alive by nomads, and it was a good story to tell. Nearly killed when the Summer went up around FP1, and it only gave him resolve.
No, what had come crawling back was something that truly scared him. Something long forgotten, and now back again, full force.
Heartbreak.
The pain, the dull ache that crawled its way through him was terrible, and when it spiked, he fought hard not to be overwhelmed with tears.
But, he knew, he needed to be sober - for everyone that counted on him. No matter how much he wanted to drink himself into the ground, no matter how much pain he was in, no matter how much the memory of her laughter, and the ache of the empty space that grew like a void between them, drew pain in measures he couldnt take - he couldnt let himself fall apart. Not now.
A hand on his shoulder roused him, and Reggie beckoned him out. He had managed to eat a little, and managed to keep himself from getting truly wasted. He felt the alcohol, but it didnt dilute how he felt in the slightest. the walk to the vehicle was a blur, but the ride wasnt. A long twisting flight in the dark, looking towards the far blue horizon, reliving every word he had said, every word she said, every thing he had done, every mistake, every thing that had cost him so much. And in the back of it all, the words...
...that first song...
Like an old feeling, without ever having thought of that song for years, the words came to his lips in a whisper, as if he'd been singing it everyday...
"...can't we wait 'till summertime....can't wait for it to be summertime...
"...come back to me before to long..."
"...come back to me in summertime..."
With the words, he couldnt help it, and he cried, using his willpower to keep it silent, trying to hide it, too ashamed to show it.
Reggie looked over, heard the words, but said nothing.
---
In time, they arrived at the Veranda, and Dane's eyes had cleared. He looked a mess, but stood tall for it.
"Ya said got a guitar need's tuning? Show me to it..."
Taking hold of the old acoustic guitar, he sat down with it, and strummed a few notes. It was old, well kept, but the strings had stretched a bit, and the sound was off. Few more sour notes, and they started to come back. A twist here, another few notes - one by one, the true sound came back like lost children finding home. And with a hand, he echoed the chords, and they sang.
Dane let out a deep breath, and a song came to him. The tears had shed some of the ache out, but there was still a lot inside...he needed release.
The old acoustic sang notes in a melancholy but folksy rhythm, an easy beat, steady and true...
He looked at Reggie - "ya know...i didnt leave home to find sleep...I left home to forget something terrible that I did...something that I lost...dunno why I forgot till just now...."
"...My loves an ocean...ya better not cross it..."
"...Yeah, I been the distance...and I need some rest..."
"...Yeah, I had somebody once...but...damn if I lost her..."
*he shut his eyes to hold back tears* "...I been runnin' like a man possessed..."
The sound picked up, the pace rhythm increased for the chorus, as his emotion made his words louder, and more pathos laden...
"I dont scare easy...Dont fall apart when Im under the gun..."
"...You can break my heart, but I aint gonna run..."
"I dont scare easy...for no one..."
To: Sophie Noir, Sophie's Cafe, Port Canaria
From: Shamus O'Shaunessy, Erinloch Roadhouse
Hello, Sister,
I'm understandin' that ye'd be in part responsible fer me current "thrice-born" condition.
Whether I'm indebted fer that remains t' be seen, Sophie; but ye're at least owed me gratitude fer breathin' life inter the ol' globe again.
Fondest regards t' the Kentigearna. Accordin' t' Dimi, she's still considered "larger than life" among the denizens o' the Green Hell. Regards t' yer Discordians as well, luv.
I'll be round t' see ye when time permits.. Seems there's change afoot, 'n Edin'bro may be smack in the middle o' it.