Imrhien. Oh Imrhien.
Was it two or three months since they had met? His memory of the whirlwind that had been his life with her was hazy. So much had happened. So much said. So much done. She had changed his world and he’d felt for a time that he could finally leave his past behind. For the first time in years he had been part of a crew, made friends, made a home, made love. Love. Oh Imrhien.
He stood on Vivienne’s ramp and cast his eyes back over the endless dunes, watching the air dance and shimmer in the heat. A line from an ancient film from Earth That Was came back to him, and it seemed apt for his life. Someone had been asked why he liked the desert so much. “It’s clean.” Clean but dead, Iskrin thought to himself, like my life was before I met Imrhien. And now?
He hadn't told any of them what he was about to do or where he was about to go. The pain of leaving friends was bad enough and he'd said too many goodbyes in his lifetime. The pain of leaving Imrhien was so great that he was afraid that if she asked him not to go, then he wouldn’t. Yet he was more afraid that in her own, stubborn, noble way she wouldn’t ask him to stay; and that would be worse. He also didn't know what to say. He couldn't imagine himself explaining the situation to any of them, least of all Imrhien.
Closing the hatch and retracting the ramp he then made his way to the comfortable pilot’s chair. This small shuttle had been a good purchase, on reflection. It was old and well-used, but it suited his needs and he’d finally fixed the stardrive engines, so it would make the trip to the Core that he needed to take now.
He eased himself into the leather of the chair and brought up the Cortex on the main display, the wave open from when he’d last read it this morning.
He sat staring at the screen, the ‘reply’ button blinking quietly, urging a response. His nerves were still numb no matter how often he read the message. It seemed impossible that Sam would have found her after all these years. Iskrin had given up ever hearing from the man again, letting the last of his hope die in his heart, certain that Lys was lost.
And there was the lie.
He’d told Imrhien that the spacers had raped and murdered Lys. That he’d hunted them down and killed them in revenge and that he’d lived his life alone in homage to his family and his lost love. It had almost been true; was true enough in his head, where he’d convinced himself that Lys was dead and that he’d never find her. But in his heart, in that block of ice that Imrhien had melted, the secret had lain - poisonous, dangerous.
The crew that murdered his family 15 years ago had raped every girl in the town, including Lys – that had been true. They’d also murdered every girl in the town, except for Lys – that Lys was dead had been a lie he told Imrhien because he’d reconciled himself to her being so. Lys, in fact, they had taken. It was saving her - not revenge - that had set Iskrin on the dark path that culminated in the murder of the boat’s captain. But Lys had already been discarded, too frightened and tearful to be any fun, the man had said.
Mustering his will and his thoughts, Iskrin tapped the reply button, sending Sam a message that he was on his way to the Core and that they should meet in the usual place, usual time on Sunday. The wave sent, Iskrin fastened his harness and set Vivienne to spin up her engines. The ship shuddered and complained as she vented sand from her intakes before finally grinding the atmo drive into action and cycling the fuel through the new stardrive filters, preparing those engines for their first and only flight.
By now the water is loaded and they’re on their way back down, he thought to himself as he took hold of the worn control stick. Imrhien won’t panic if I’m not there. Not immediately. Maybe not ever. He pulled back on the throttle and Vivienne kissed the sand goodbye, sending clouds of it billowing up in little jet eddies as the atmospheric VTOL engines pushed her into the sky.
Iskrin watched the dull red of the shimmering desert grow fainter through the lower porthole as the cerulean blue of the atmosphere turned to black through the main window. He’d set a trajectory to leave atmo well away from Chrysalis and to make use of the main Coreward shipping lane that Chrysalis was likely to avoid. He didn’t think Imrhien would be like to chase him – she was too sensible, too strong for that – but he didn’t want to risk one of the crew persuading her.
As Vivienne’s stardrive engines belched golden plasma flames and the ship hurtled into the blackness of space, Iskrin leant back into the leather of the pilot seat and closed his eyes. So much pain. So much emotion. In only a few months he’d learned to open his heart; learnt that he could still love someone. And now he was leaving her without even saying goodbye. His old da had used to say: The past ain’t ever done nor forgotten, son. It just rests a while. Sometimes you’re lucky an’ it don’t wake until you sleep your last sleep. Othertimes it’ll come back at ya an’ you gotta face it, or you won’t ever rest easy. One past had come back to him now, screaming for attention, begging for his help. This new past that he was leaving would rest a while, he was sure.
But it was going to be a short and troubled sleep, no doubt.
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