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  Sophia swallowed–it was so like her to miss on the moral question. Some things never changed. His was as good a reason as any for being here. She thought about Claire and Sam, the two beautiful children she adopted after the war. Sam joined the navy. Like her mother, Claire became a colonial prospector out beyond the Long Bar. Frankly, Sophia wanted to see her daughter again before her time ran out. Though it was hard to get her to come home. She’d set up shop out there in the deep black, and rarely returned to the folds of Coalition space.

  “Yeah.” Sophia looked longingly at the amber liquid in her glass, mostly melted ice at this point. “Do you think our words will stop the next war?”

  “If the gods are on our side, they will.” Aaron smiled at her, his old face looking briefly youthful. “Even if they don’t, we tried. How many times did you take an action in the war you didn’t know would succeed but knew you had to try?”

  Plenty. “Fair.”

  She had to go back up there, and look Emily/Esther in the eye and ask to try again, didn’t she? Humility. Not something she’d ever mastered, but boy, was she humbled. After Kadesh, her world changed. Everyone’s did. Taking in a deep breath, Sophia stood, her old legs aching under the sudden weight they were asked to carry–but she would deal with it. There was one last battle to fight, and she would be damned if she didn’t fight it.

  “Going somewhere?” Aaron gave her a questioning look.

  She nodded. “I have to go back, because you are right.”

  There were so many things she’d like to say to Aaron. Some were full of anger, others full of grief. Once there were billions of veterans who’d fought in that Great War, but not anymore. Now there were only a few thousand left in all the Galaxy. It had been the better part of two hundred years since the close of that war, and many of its warriors who survived the storm had succumbed to the claws of time. She felt the claws on her own neck, too. Time’s slow embrace slipping around her. The end was far closer than the beginning.

  But what she left behind, that was important.

  Maybe it was her arrogance speaking, but what she had to say about that war, about the events in it, that was important.

  “General Strand, it was an honor.” She held out her hand. “I’m glad we never met in battle.”

  “The bar sufficed well enough, I should think.” The old man stood up and gripped her hand.

  The two soldiers shook, and then, out of habit or respect, she snapped her hand to her forehead. Even in her old age, her form was impeccable. It had to be. She was Sophia Trotsky after all, the greatest thorium tycoon this side of the Union border, The Spider, Von’Triton’s Blade, and she wore two White Stars of Valor on her chest. In fact, her entire uniform was glistening with awards, commendations, and ribbons. She carried them with pride, and she realized it was not pride for herself. It was with pride for all the incredible men and woman with whom she’d served.

  Aaron snapped his fist to his chest and bowed with as much snap as she had.

  “The honor was mine,” Aaron said. “One last battle, then.”

  She nodded. “If history had played out differently, perhaps we could have been friends.”

  “Perhaps,” Aaron agreed. “Let us give that chance to our progeny, yes?”

  Indeed. With that, Sophia Trotsky turned from the Imperial General and began making her way back towards the stairs. Her feet grew cold as she ascended, thinking of all the horrible memories behind the wall she was about to break. That silence she’d held for so long. It was a silence bred out of a fear of facing her emotions. An absolute terror. She marched on, forging ahead with all the fight she could manage, because in the end this was not a moment for her. Those had all passed. This was for the future, and if a soldier was not willing to fight for that, then what was the point?

  Cresting the floor, she knocked on the door leading to the interview room. Perhaps Esther/Emily had left already. Her mechanical heart thundered away in fear for a moment, but it was unfounded. The door clicked and opened, and there she was. Blue eyes and red hair, with a surprised expression hanging on the edge of her gaze.

  “Mrs. Trotsky.” Her voice faltered. “I was just packing up.”

  “I wish to try again.” Sophia took a deep breath. “I apologize for my earlier outburst.”

  “Of course.” Esther/Emily turned and made wild hand gestures.

  Those who had been deconstructing the green tarp stopped and immediately returned it. The holo-tarp glistened a few moments later and brought the pictures to life on its surface once again. The chairs were back in a moment, and Sophia eased herself into one, her legs aching with gratitude as she did so.

  “What is your name? I have forgotten.” Sophia asked – wanting to put her dotage aside and try to grab the young lady’s name.

  “Of course. It’s Claire Lockwood.”

  Claire. Really? How the hell did Sophia forget a woman named Claire? Her daughter’s name. Shaking off her confusion, Sophia took a deep breath and kept her mouth shut. Esther/Emily was way off the mark. Damn. Sophia really was old. Well, at least she remembered what mattered now. She could never forget it. Claire sat down opposite and pulled out her datapad as the work crew disappeared behind the holo-sheet, leaving just the two women to talk.

  “I have a lot to say.” Sophia took a deep breath. “But it may not be what’s on your data board.”

  Claire looked at the holographic screen that glimmered a deep blue. Clearly, there were a lot of things she wanted to know. Casting her reluctance under the shadow of a smile, she leaned to the side and dropped the data board on the ground, and then clasped her hands together in an empty lap.

  “Go on,” Claire prodded.

  “Kadesh.” The words trembled on her lips as Sophia remembered the horrors of those two weeks.

  “The fall of Kadesh.”

  “Yes.” Sophia nodded. “It all begins there.”

  She had to. For posterity. For all those who might consider war again, Sophia began her tale. It was a long tale. There was tragedy and tears. Grief and ghosts aplenty haunted the edges of her words, everyone tugging at her soul as she began the story of a young girl on a small moon over an enormous world, where history changed. Every word she spoke came from the heart, and every single one was true, however painful the memory it formed might be.

  From her lips, she spun her tale.

  Of grief and fear, but also love and joy.

  For the first time since Armistice Day, Sophia spoke of the Great War.

  It was a bittersweet tune, a ballad of broken glass.

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  About the Author

  I am a nerd – have been that way since childhood. So far, there is no cure. Ever since I was a toddler, I have wanted to write stories, and bring a universe full of wonder and beauty to an audience. Sure, once I dreamed of being the next George RR Martin, but let’s be fair, my beard is nowhere near epic enough for that. Today I want to bring you guys some awesome stories, epic tales, and maybe even a romance or two. You never know.

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  K. MacCabe, Silent Refrain

 

 

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