Tristan von Volsung considered it his duty to put on a show for the ships he plundered. His favorite part of the whole "looting and swashbuckling" affair involved the stroll down the main cabin as he examined the humans' expressions, which varied from awe to loathing. Whatever the response, he always wore a pleasant smile.
But this time was different. On this raid, on this transport shuttle, and for the first time, he saw her - a young human girl absently thumbing through an old-fashioned paper novel. She did not show the least bit of concern at the pyreans bustling down the aisle to collect valuables from the passengers nor the ships right outside her window.
A prim bun, holding back long brown hair, gave her a hint of severity but did not succeed in hardening the soft lines of her cheeks and lips. He could not quite tell if she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but he nevertheless gravitated toward her seat.
"Hello," he said.
She looked up and gave him a cheerful smile that might have seemed vapid had it not made her eyes glow a deep blue.
"Hello," she replied before returning her attention to the book.
Unused to women ignoring him, Tristan cleared his throat, "Tell me, dear, that must be a most engrossing book."
"I suppose. It's Jane Eyre."
"Oh."
Tristan hated that book.
She added, "A friend gave it to me since I'm also a governess, but I don't much care for it. When it comes to classics, I prefer something by Kurt Vonnegut, if you've ever read anything by him."
Tristan smiled, edging forward as one of his crew brushed past him. "This is a little secret, but part of the reason I became a space pirate was because I always wanted to visit Tralfamadore."
She giggled more than laughed, and his answering grin turned goofy as she slipped the book back into the small bag across her lap.
"Then you must be disappointed in me. I'm just a young, innocent girl on her way to a rich man's manor on a distant planet, where I'll teach his kids Old English and hopefully get married to said rich man. Thus the reason for this." She patted the book-shaped lump in her bag.
The girl said it with such sincerity, her smile never wavering or turning cynical, and her look so ingenuous that Tristan feared she did not mean it as a joke.
"Really?" He at last managed, and his smile drooped into a thoughtful frown.
"It sounds ridiculous when I put it like that, doesn't it?" Now her smile did fade just a little and the corners of her mouth twisted into something weary rather than amused. "My life-savings went into this shuttle ticket. I know my mum was sad to see me go, but we all knew it was for the best. She kept saying she did not mean it as a one-way ticket, but..."
She shrugged as if that said it all, and for Tristan, it did. Space travel was expensive for humans, and with a girl and her family of limited means, they would most likely never meet again. Although she must have fully understood the implications of her trip, her smile still did not completely falter.
When she looked up at him again, her eyes sparkled with the empty glaze of a very stupid child's, but now that she held his full attention, Tristan realized how deceptive appearances could be.
She must have made decisions that people twice her age would quail at, decisions that not only involved her fate, but the fate of her family and friends as well. Yet despite such sacrifice, she still managed to radiate innocence and naivete.
Tristan decided she truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever met.
The thought that he and his crew were on a timetable floated through the back of his mind. He stammered, "But...but when will I see you again?"
"You won't." Smile in place and eyes still glowing, she did not fear anything.
Tristan felt his shoulders sag. Noticing his distress, the girl reached over and gave his hand a reassuring pat. "Shouldn't you be robbing the ship or something?"
Tristan meant to say "no" but it came out as, "Will you marry me?"
"Yes."
Tristan blinked. "Er...what?"
She gave him a bright smile. "You proposed and I accepted."
"Oh. Of course." He looked her up and down with increasing suspicion. "How old are you anyway? Let it never be said I take advantage of young, impressionable girls."
"I'm eighteen."
Tristan gave her a blank stare. He knew humans aged differently from pyreans, but that seemed awfully young - even by human standards.
"And that's legal?"
"Depends on where you are."
Tristan smiled and offered her his hand. "Works for me."
The pyrean commodore tapped his headset to contact the first mate now manning the bridge. "Hello, Skeld, how are things?"
"Just fine, Commodore," Skeld Harrinson replied, his voice smooth and unconcerned across the commlink.
To someone stupid, it might appear he did not have a sense of humor, but Tristan was not stupid; he just liked interesting people.
"Did you know I'm getting married?"
"I did not, Commodore. Will we be receiving invitations soon?" Skeld did not even hesitate.
This first mate was easily the most competent man ever to serve under Tristan. If he had noble blood, he would already command his own ship or fleet, perhaps direct Tristan himself, but pyreans had acquired humanity's unfortunate habit of aristocracy.
"Regrettably you won't be available," Tristan replied. "We're getting married right now, you see, and I need to know how much time we have for the reception."
During the brief pause, Tristan almost believed he had caught the unflappable Skeld off-guard, but then the commodore heard the sound of typing and realized his first mate merely remained his meticulous self.
"The wedding crashers have an ETA of fifteen minutes Universal Time; I'll give you five."
Tristan gave a cheerful salute though he knew Skeld could not see it, "You got it, boss!"
Tristan liked to imagine Skeld smiled just a little as he replied, "You're welcome, Commodore. Harrinson out."
Tristan scanned the crowd and pointed to a wealthy-looking woman. "You. Give me two of your rings - nothing too flashy." He looked back at the girl, who still held his hand. "I hope you don't mind if we skip the engagement?"
She merely shrugged, her placid smile suspiciously free of mirth, and Tristan returned his attention to the cabin as the woman scrambled to hand over two rings pulled off at random from her plump fingers.
"Hey, are any of you, I don't know, priests or whatever humans have for important ceremonies?"
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Tristan reached for his gun in a threatening manner. A portly middle-aged man stood up and admitted. "I'm a parishioner for the -"
"Excellent," Tristan interrupted and gestured to the girl. "Marry us."
"Actually, I...I don't have the authority to -"
Tristan pulled out his gun and leveled it at the man's head. "By the powers vested in me by this gun and the big scary ships right outside, I grant you the authority to marry us, so get on with it."
The man scrambled from his seat and into the aisle. Tristan noticed his crew members had stopped the looting and were now waiting further down the way, intent upon his proceedings.
At that moment, Tristan realized he had forgotten something, but Elite vessels were undoubtedly already on the way, and after a moment of indecision, he decided it could wait. He returned his attention to the parishioner.
The commodore gave the man his most severe look - the one he reserved for insubordinates and emergency situations.
"Thirty seconds."
The parishioner's Adam's apple bobbed in an audible gulp, but his voice remained steady as he asked in a clipped voice, "Do you take her to be your somewhat lawfully wedded wife till death do you part?"
"I do."
Twenty seconds.
"And do you take him to be your husband, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"
"I do!"
"Great. You're married. You may kiss the bride."
Ten seconds.
But then they kissed and time stopped.
When Tristan pulled back, he felt his lips involuntarily twist into a grin that he hoped did not look not half as dopey as it felt. Tristan gave the cabin a bemused look until he caught his crew's impatient looks, and time jolted forward with an unpleasant start as it hurried to catch up.
Negative ten seconds.
Skeld would not be amused.
Tristan flashed his new wife a charming smile. "Terribly sorry to kiss and run, darling, but we really must be off."
The girl did not bother with unimportant questions; she merely nodded and slung the small bag over her shoulder.
"Is that it?"
"It's all that matters. Oh wait!" She pulled out the copy of Jane Eyre and handed it to the parishioner. Hand now free, she offered it to him. "Shall we?"
As their hands met, he grinned, "We shall."
Tristan directed the boarding party with a sharp nod, and they began to hurry back toward his ship. He paused long enough to address the humans - lack of time did not justify incivility.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope that was as entertaining for you as it was for me. And before we overstay our welcome, adieu!"
The girl allowed herself to be lead down the shuttle's aisle and across the boarding tube to the main pyrean ship. Even when she saw the bustle of pyreans as they hurried to secure the booty, her faint smile did not falter. Instead it blossomed into something even more radiant, and Tristan found himself basking in her nearness as they maneuvered down the corridor.
Skeld waited around the corner, close enough to catch Tristan but away from the majority of commotion. His first mate did not even hesitate before executing a flawless bow upon seeing the woman at Tristan's side. If not for the faint twang in his voice, he could have passed for Pyre nobility.
"Lady von Volsung, my name is Skeld Harrinson. As the first mate of the Defiant Raptor, I welcome you aboard."
Tristan eyed the taller man with a mixture of approval and frustration. As much as the man deserved a promotion, Tristan wanted him to crack a smile before he received his own ship. The commodore pushed that up on his list of priorities.
"Very good, First Mate Harrinson. Take us into Hyperspace as soon as the goods are secured." With that polite dismissal, Tristan turned back to his wife. "Welcome aboard, darling. I hope you find this new home to your liking."
"I'm sure I will," she replied and gave his hand a gentle squeeze that said more than words could.
Tristan paused as he remembered that question that had thus far eluded him. "And this raises the rather important question of your name."
"Me? I'm Isolde."
Tristan arched an eyebrow and his smile became something more wolfish. "Really? And I'm Tristan. I think we'll get along just fine."
*******
"Hey, what'cha starin' at, Caelus?"
Loki felt a sharp whap across the side of his head, and he winced, automatically jabbing his elbow in Himmer's ribs.
He muttered, "No one! I'm just," he paused. "Thinking about that test next week."
"Ha! Now I know you're lying! What's so amazing that you've been spacing out for the past five minutes?"
Nern chimed in, "It's that girl over there, isn't it?"
Loki grimaced. They sat in their favorite after-class hang out - a cafe several few blocks down from the Academy grounds.
"What? No."
He went back to staring at her. She had long blonde hair and the pale skin usually found in nobility or pyreans from the Outer Ring. He had noticed her several weeks ago. She always sat in the same booth, always ordered the same dish and always kept busy - either reading reports from her viewer or expertly finishing assignments.
Himmer shrugged, "I guess she's cute. Kind of plain, don't you think?"
"Yeah. Nothing spectacular," Loki agreed. He thought she was gorgeous.
"Don't get your hopes up, Caelus," Nern warned as he took another sip from his drink. "She's a senior in the Engineering Corps - not the type to go for a slacker like you."
Loki sagged. "Engineering? Oh great. She's smarter than me too. If she asks, remember - I'm interested in navigation."
With a hearty laugh, Himmer ruffled his hair. "You in navigation? Boy, you can't even find your way out of the dorms; who's going to believe the Piracy Division would trust you with an interstellar ship?"
"I could study if I wanted to! I just have better things to do."
"Like staring at smart chicks?"
"I told you, I'm not staring at her."
"Huh, sure looks like it from this angle."
"I'm...debating." Loki decided.
"Debating what?"
"Whether he's going to ask her on a date," Nern responded before Loki could, then continued in a decisive voice, "And the answer is 'and I'm gonna do it right now.'"
Without warning Nern shouldered Loki hard enough to knock him out of their booth seat. Before he could catch himself, the smaller boy tumbled to the floor. Everyone looked over, including her.
Loki wanted to die, but he also wanted to kill Nern. It was something of a conundrum.
"Nern..." Loki growled as he got to his feet.
Nern leveled a finger at him, then spoke in a soft voice that allowed no discussion. "You're going over there to ask her on a date. We're going back to the dorms, and I'm locking you out of our room until you come back bearing good news."
Nern tossed some money on the table then slid out of the booth. Himmer followed, giving Loki an apologetic grin, "You heard the boss."
They marched out of the cafe, leaving Loki alone. He turned with a sigh and slunk closer to her table.
"Hello," he began.
The girl gave him a look of concern, "Um, hi. Is everything okay with you and your friends?"
"Yeah, Nern's just like that. You get used to it after a while." He paused. "Mind if I join you?"
In response, she gestured to the seat across from her and he flopped down. Loki studied the stack of papers and multiple viewers in front of her.
"That's a lot of stuff."
"My cumulative exam is in a month. How well I do determines my first ship assignment."
"I know you'll do great."
Her smile held only a little bite as she murmured, "Do you now?"
Loki blushed and at once felt like an idiot. "I mean, you're always studying, and you must be smart, since you made it this far in the Engineering program."
"There are a number of logical fallacies in that statement, but I'll let them slide because you're kind of cute."
Loki grinned uncomfortably, "By the way, I'm Loki Caelus."
She suppressed a smirk. "Actually, Mr. Caelus, I already know you."
"R-Really? Have we met?"
"No, but we would have if you ever came to your 'Introduction to Mechanical Engineering' section."
"Er...we're classmates?" At once he realized the stupidity of that question, but it was too late. He completely expected her response, but it still felt catastrophically disappointing.
"I'm one of the TAs for that course." As if he didn't want to smack himself already, she added, "By the way, you failed last week's assignment."
"Crushed" did not begin to describe his state of mind. She was even more beautiful and witty than he'd imagined, she knew what a loser he was, and Nern would lock him out for a week if he didn't succeed.
C'mon, Loki, he thought to himself with desperation. What would Nern do? He's good at this kind of thing; he'd think of something. Loki wracked his brains, imagining Nern in this predicament, but he knew Nern would never get into this sort of predicament in the first place.
At last a solution came to him in a flash of divine inspiration. "Can you tutor me?"
She stared at him before answering with an incredulous smile, "Did you just ask me out?"
"Er...yes?"
Drumming her fingers on the table, she considered, "I suppose I have time for a date, but only if you promise to go to Professor Wondel's office hours."
"What? Really?"
As if seeing the hope blossom on his face, she continued, "Look, Loki. I graduate in a month, so I'm not really in a position to get to know you, much less date."
Loki stared at the his hand and fidgeted. He mumbled, "Then wait for me."
"What?"
"W...wait for me."
"Be serious. I've talked to you for all of five minutes. Why would I wait for you?"
"Because I want to marry you."
Loki winced. Somehow that had sounded so much smoother in his head. She stared, looking long and hard at him, then burst into laughter.
"I was serious," he continued, and that sounded even more pathetic and ridiculous.
"Look, Loki, first assignments can last between five and ten years, Universal. Even in the best case, that's four of your years here. Do you really think you're going to wait? Do you really thing that I'm not going to meet anyone else?"
"I..."
He hadn't managed to keep a girlfriend longer than a few months. He never received high marks, because he always got bored halfway through the semester. Stardust, sometimes he didn't even finish lunch because he got distracted.
Yet he knew, without a doubt, that she was the one. He could do this, even if he couldn't do anything else to save his life. All she had to do was say "yes."
In a very quiet tone, he admitted, "I'm going to wait for you until you tell me to stop."
"You're a very strange kid, aren't you?" He must have looked hurt because she added, "We'll see what happens, okay? If you really are interested, even after ten years, I'll consider it."
Loki perked up. "In the meantime, do I get your name or anything?"
"Sif Cerria. You'd know that if you ever looked at your class synopsis, but...what's so funny?"
Loki hid his smirk. "Oh, I was just thinking, us being Sif and Loki."
"Yes?"
"Well, in one of the human mythologies, Sif is the name of a goddess and Loki is..." After a moment of consideration, he decided not to go into the details about the trickster and his pranks.
"That's not important. I've only got a month to convince you to wait for me, so my next question is, where do you want to go on your first date?"
*******
Ian did not like how he heard no footsteps as a warning before she spoke.
"You there," the voice said in a stern tone, "is that your hover car?"
Very slowly and deliberately, Ian rose from his crouched position and turned. The woman stood a few meters away, and from toe to tip she looked a noblewoman.
A loose braid of long hair fell down her back, and pale gold bangs framed a cool face and its luminous green eyes. Her coat of rich red fabric spoke of wealth, even if the utilitarian cut hung trim and comfortable. Although a gun poked out by her left hip, she made no move to reach for it. Her arms remained loose and unconcerned by her side, but surely she knew she addressed a criminal.
Ian considered throwing the wrench, still in his hand, at her to make a break for it, but thought better when he caught the faint gleam of gold earrings - studs in the right ear, rings in the left. A pirate then, and a commander at that.
Merdael knew better than to mess with the government's dogs.
"It's mine," Ian muttered. "What does it matter to you?"
Anyway it ought to be his after all the work he put into it. Blasted thing undoubtedly flew better now then when its previous owner had used it.
She took a few steps closer, seemingly unafraid of him despite his height and bulk, and her booted feet clicked on the empty garage's concrete floor.
"You do fine work, but it is wasted on this."
Ian narrowed his eyes, "It's as good a hover car as any."
"I meant your life." She gestured, "This thievery."
With a scoff, Ian took an angry step forward. "And who in the asteroids are you to tell me what I should and shouldn't do?"
He already knew what she would say. She would very politely give her name and rank and continue looking at him with that condescending stare. She might tell him to turn himself in, or she might call the police right then.
Either way, he was going to have to hurt her, and that made Ian even angrier.
Indeed she acknowledged his request with a cool inclination of her head, "I am Commodore Hildegarde Jiordson of the Pyrean Navy, Piracy Division. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing myself?"
"I -" Ian stopped. The light peeking in through the ceiling's cracks now shifted directly onto her face, and for the first time, he looked at her. Really looked at her.
Rather than condescension, her expression was cold, almost blank. Ian might have thought she regarded him with disinterest, except she lacked arrogance or even pity. She had approached him because of his mechanical and electrical aptitude, nothing else. Beyond that she might as well look through him.
With a start, he realized she truly was his superior, his better, and this superiority was so much a part of her being that she did not in any way have to act on it. It was who she was.
Suddenly humbled, Ian stammered, "M-my name is Ian Torrens."
"Ian Torrens, I discovered your workshop by chance, and by chance you were alone when I entered. This meeting is fate." She looked at the half-finished pieces lining the walls with a nod of approval. "You are very talented. If you come with me, I will see those talents put to better use."
She gestured to the grimy bedrolls tucked away in a corner, "You will not live in these conditions, nor will you ever sleep on the streets again."
She looked Ian directly in the eyes, as if they were equals, but that could not fool him. Her eyes were cold and hard, not unkind, but distant as if she went through life with faint detachment.
Stories from his childhood returned to him, and Ian could not help thinking of the Ishmekhet, the seven handmaidens of the seven Daughters of Light. Once every five hundred years, they came from the heavens in the guise of mortals to live out their lives and change the destiny of the cosmos.
The Merdael both loved and feared them, for despite their great beauty, the Ishmekhet were very cruel. All men who saw them, loved them, and the Ishmekhet led all men who loved them to their deaths.
"Well, Mr. Torrens?" she asked again, not out of impatience, but because she could see he showed no sign of answering.
"Where would I go?" He asked without really caring.
"To the Naval Academy to receive military training and further instruction in engineering." She answered at once, but added in a softer tone, "I will not lie, Mr. Torrens. Great discipline and hard work will be expected of you at the Academy, but one day you will maintain a starship." She paused, "Or perhaps command your own."
A sneer twisted Ian's lips, "I'm Merdael, Commodore."
"You are talented," she countered. "And whatever rumors you hear about us, talent does not go unrewarded in the Navy."
Ian did not hesitate out of indecisiveness; he already knew his answer, but he had other considerations to address.
"Two things," he said at last. "And neither of them are negotiable."
Commodore Jiordson looked at him with polite attention that urged him to continue.
"I have a brother; I am teaching him my craft. If I go to the Academy, so will he." He did not add that Jakob would be in danger should Ian abandon their clan. Zyk had a wicked temper.
The woman nodded, "Like you, he will be given a chance to prove himself. And whatever his decision, you have my word that he will be provided accommodations as long as needed."
A sigh of relief escaped Ian and his chest loosened. He would find Jakob as soon as possible and tell him, but he knew Jakob would come. His brother's loyalty lay with Ian, not their adopted clan.
Her boots scraped as she shifted her weight. She murmured, "And the other...request, Mr. Torrens?"
He met her eyes with his own and did not feel ashamed. Her eyes, green and deep, remained cold, but in them he could sense growing respect for him. She gave courtesy to all, but respect had to be earned.
Ian did not mind that.
"I will not work under just any Naval commander. When I graduate, I will only work under you."
Now she stared at him, long and inscrutable. Ian always had a talent for reading people, but her face now might as well be stone. At last her eyes flickered and a faint smile, imperceptible except for the way it softened her face, touched her lips. Ian let out the breath he did not know he had held.
"Mr. Torrens, when you complete your training at the Academy, you will work for me as my direct subordinate." She spoke with absolute certainty, as if the very fates shifted to accommodate her whims.
And perhaps they did. Merdael were not so stupid as to discount superstition.
Her smile widened, if only for a moment, into something genuinely affectionate. "I look forward to that day, Mr. Torrens."
Ian remembered the Ishmekhet and the doomed men who followed them. He thought of the way her eyes gleamed, pyrean but lacking any mortal frailties. Whether or not he loved her, he now had no choice but to follow.
Commodore Jiordson turned on her heels and walked toward the door that would lead out through the myriad back alleys and hovels of the city, and beyond that, on some other planet, the Academy.
She did not turn around, and as Ian began to follow, neither did he.
*******
"Hey, Alan?"
Alan looked up from his book and over to where Sven sat. The pyrean captain gazed out the window with a distant expression on his face that made Alan vaguely nervous. He always felt awkward around dreamers.
"What is it?" He at last answered.
Sven looked over at him as he asked, "Do humans believe in Ternya i Skilnach?"
Alan gave him a curious look as he rolled the words over in his mind. "Ternya i Skilnach...let's see. That's Pyrean for...'fate's bindings?'"
"Yeah. I guess that's how it translates," Sven agreed. "But maybe 'threads of fate' works better."
With an eyebrow raised in polite disagreement, Alan asked, "Not that I really care about semantics, but what's the difference?"
Sven propped his chin on a hand. Alan could tell he was trying very hard to find the words that would bridge not only the language barrier but the cultural differences as well.
"It's the belief that some connections between people are bigger than the people themselves," the pyrean began with care. "It's how you can look at someone you've just met and know that the skeins of your lives are somehow intertwined."
Alan frowned as he tried to think of a human analogy.
"We have a saying called 'love at first sight' and maybe that's something like Ternya i Skilnach." Alan shrugged. "I guess some humans believe in it, but most of us think it's a load of nonsense. People make the connections between them, not some outside force. It's impossible to know you're in love with someone before you've really gotten to know that person."
"Ahh," Sven nodded.
He wore a tight smile that did not quite reach his eyes, but to all appearances, appeared satisfied by Alan's response. Alan knew better.
Alan had long ago given up trying to understand the pyrean captain, but he still had a sense for the other's moods, if not what they meant. And Alan knew, with complete certainty, that he had somehow picked the wrong answer.
Part of him argued that the question did not have a right or wrong answer, but the rest of him knew better. With Sven, there was always a right and wrong answer in its own subtle way.
He tried again. "But of course, the universe is full of strange things. Maybe with some people, it does happen."
Sven's smile grew back into something genuine, "You really think so?"
Alan scratched the back of his head as his own smile, completely against his will, began to play at the corners of his mouth.
"Sure, why not?"
Sven gave him an all-out grin - the one he reserved for right answers, and the one that Alan would never admit to enjoying. His eyes sparkled - sparkled, dammit - and that should not be natural, much less reassuring.
"Thanks, Alan."
"Nn," Alan replied, and he went back to his book.