Nova Cassidy's Chronicles: Judges Pt 7
27 Mar 2016Nova Cassidy
“So, you’re sure about this?”I had just stowed the last of my luggage into the main corridor of the Snowbird. Everything was ready. Thankfully, there wasn't much to unpack, and Matt had helped me move it all over. The Python was prepped for launch, and even though Jaylin Sharwit was dead, it was still a good idea to put as much void between myself and the Empire as possible. Now, all I had to do was walk up the corridor and begin the next phase of my life- the one where I’m not quite on the run, but not quite free, either.
Matt was standing before me, an uneasy look on his face. Ever the protective one, I thought.
I looked at the enormous white ship behind me, and turned back to Matt. “You know I don’t really have a choice. The Inquisition knows my real identity, and I don’t want to count too much on Sharwit’s demise being the magic wand that solves all my problems.”
My partner nodded, still not totally convinced. “And the plan is to just disappear? You know that’s impossible, right?”
I smiled grimly. “I know it’s a real trick. But it’s not impossible. We disappeared from each other’s lives pretty good there for awhile, didn’t we?”
He matched my smile, his lips curling but his eyes remaining serious. “Reckon we did, darlin’. Reckon we did.”
I walked up to Matt, gripping the opening of his jacket. “Thanks, though.”
Looking down at me, my partner raised his eyebrows. “For what?”
“Same old, same old. Helping me out. Not being an asshole. Being honest-” I stopped myself. “- well, reasonably honest.”
We shared a soft chuckle, and I gave Matt a great big hug, squeezing him tightly and letting him do the same to me. This might be last good hug you get for awhile, Nova. Better savor it.
“And don’t let another year pass before you say ‘hi’, ok?”
We released each other, and he held my shoulders out at arm’s length. “Deal. In fact, I’ve got a plan in the works that’ll call for contacting you real soon.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what are you going to spill about this little plan?”
He smiled. “It’s better that I don’t. When are you going to send me the coordinates of this hiding spot of yours?”
Now it was my turn to smile. “It’s better that I don’t.”
His finger traced along the edge of my cheek. “Take care, darlin’.”
I gripped his hand in mine, squeezing gently. “You too, Matty.”
With that, I turned and walked up the ramp, closing it behind me. There was no reason to drag out the goodbye even longer than we already had. I settled down into the commander’s chair. Looked outside the canopy glass, I could see Matt. He was still standing where I had left, still smiling that sad smile of his like last time.
But this time, it was genuine. He was free of the guilt that had plagued him for the last year. I was free of my nagging suspicions. The little voice in the back of my mind had finally been put to bed. I took a deep breath.
It’s gone. For the first time in a year, it’s gone.
I lifted off, watching Matt disappear under the rising horizon. Hitting the booster, I lifted off from the planet’s surface. I tilted the Snowbird to the side, looking at the triangular black shape on the ground that was Matt’s ship. I wasn’t certain, but I could almost swear that I saw him walking back up the ramp. Smiling slightly, I righted the ship and hit the supercruise controls.
Matt’s got his own way to go. Just like me.
I looked around the bridge as the blue sky turned into the blackness of space. The Snowbird was a fine ship, to be sure- but I didn’t feel the sense of deep attachment to it that I had felt with the Bluebird. It didn't feel like home yet. Maybe it would eventually.
I paused to consider my feelings. Did that mean that I liked the Python less? Maybe we just haven't been through enough yet?
Or am I just getting wiser?
Yeah. I would never not care about my ship- but I wasn’t attached to it like an adolescent girl to her first boyfriend, either. Setting the course at the nav station, I settled down in the seat, brushing a lock of blue hair out of my face. It was time to hit the road. To explore. To settle down someplace where the Inquisition would never find me- and move on when the time came. And most importantly, it was time to be more careful about who and what I loved. Be it a man, woman, or machine, it was time for a new rule:
The Bluebird is the last innocent you'll ever harm.
Two Weeks Later
Well, this looks promising.
I had been flying for days, getting further and further away from myself and the superpower that wanted me dead. The amount of Imperial traffic had gradually tapered down to zero, but that hadn’t been good enough. I wanted a place where no one in their right minds would ever go that wasn’t a straight-up den of criminals. Below me was a planet of rugged mountains, deserts, and rocky tundras. There was lots of scrub brush on the surface and not much else. Traffic was minimal. There was a single, grungy deep-space outpost in the system. No government to speak of, but no significant organized crime, either. A few planetside shacks were scattered around the surface- but the system was as sparsely populated as you could get without it being totally deserted.
Plus, there were a couple planets nearby with nearly untouched, metal-rich asteroid rings. All I had to do was hide out and sell ore to the nearby station. I decelerated into the ring and flew into the dense field of floating rocks and deployed my limpets. Sure enough, the rings were rich with metals- nothing particularly valuable, but they would keep me in food and the Snowbird in fuel and spare parts. Plus, I could always set down and sell on that planetary mining outpost when I was ready to call it a day. I reclined in my seat and smiled.
I think we’ve got a winner.
The comms panel on the bridge chimed.
That’s curious. I haven't gotten a message from anyone in weeks.
I got up and walked over to the terminal, bringing up the transmission.
Matt?
Opening the message, I waited as it downloaded and pulled up.
< Howdy, Partner.
You’ll be happy to know that our mutual friend was pleased that I completed my mission. Both my ship’s gunnery logs and the Pilot’s Fed database confirm that J. Sharwit, Commander of the Scuttlebug, is dead. Seems she had been wanted on secret bounty by the Imperial Inquisition. With her gone, those within the Chapterhouse who had an interest in the bounty have moved on to other concerns.
Speaking of other concerns, I felt that it was important to you to let you know what happened with the bounty. Even before I left, the idea of keeping those credits in my account didn’t sit well with me, so while we were moving your things, I swiped the Lysenko disk you kept (good girl!) and made a copy for myself. I tossed it in one of your flightsuit lockers when I was done.
My entire last week has been spent tracking down those whom the Inquisition ordered killed to cause that panic within Lysenko. Thanks to a few contacts of a mine, I’ve been able to track down the survivors and deposit the credits anonymously into their accounts. I was even able to get a little note attached to the memo line. All of the transactions say “It won’t bring your loved one back, but from one pawn to another- I’m sorry.” I figure the apology’s from you as much me.
One day, I’ll ask for your forgiveness, as well.
-M. Lehman
Commander, Inevitable Betrayal >
I looked up from the terminal. Well, son of a bitch. An Imperial reaper, on a self-appointed mission of mercy. It doesn't make things right. But… it's a start. I allowed myself a small smile.
The rest of the afternoon was spent floating in that same asteroid ring, trying and failing to draft a response I felt good about sending. In the end, I gave up and flew back down to the dusty planet surface. There, I again tried and failed to write anything worth sending. Hunched over the terminal, I watched the sun set through the bridge canopy, reminding me of how long I had tried and failed to respond to a simple goddamn letter.
In the end, I gave up. Pouring myself a drink, I looked at Matt’s letter, taking a few sips before closing it out. If I couldn’t respond, I couldn’t respond. There was no sense beating myself up over it.
Not all letters demand a response, Nova. He’s a big boy. He doesn’t need you to hold his hand.
I looked down at my own hand, frowning as I swirled my drink. And you don’t need him to hold yours.
Taking a sip, I walked down to the front of the bridge and leaned against the commander’s chair. The sun was disappearing behind a mountain range, bathing the bridge and myself in a dull orange glow. Before me was a view I would normally have sneered at as a wasteland- but now, it felt like a clean slate. I closed my eyes, letting the setting sun warm my face.
I had a ship. I had a nice pile of credits. I had my health, and my wits, and my peace of mind. And as long as I had those things, I would have that one intangible that was greater than the sum of the parts that comprised it:
My freedom.