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= FAR WARS =

a novel in the Empire of Time series

by John Argo

Chapter 4: Attack

11.

Zara and I arrived at Tellerine by separate Temporale ships (for propriety and protocol), coincidentally while a ceremonial convoy with a large military train was just bringing Holy Mother the Popess to Tellerine on her first state visit since the beginning of ManTime, the end of the Inversion. We had no idea, of course—nobody did—that humansh and alienoid traitors watched and reported every move back via subether to a secret Kaarrk Swarm advance base on the fringes of the Corduwaine system.

Fifteen ships of the line floated out of the Temporale, the transit world outside time and space, wormhole network of key points in our visible universe. Among the vessels was the gold and white cruiser carrying the spiritual leader and ruler of humankind.

Zara and I were eager to be together again after our separation. Protocol allowed us to sit together in a chartered airliner that brought us from the orbital station to the great Upholder starfield in Corduwaine. We sat in adjacent chairs, holding hands, and looking out the porthole over a quadrille sprawl of city lights. Zara with her free hand showed me points of interest. She was excited to be home again, now a Master of Starflight Science, as I was also since we had both graduated from Tulearth. She had left her family as a growing girl, and now returned as an educated woman and a leader to be.

She pointed to the ruined, truncated pyramid of the Mercury Fortress looming far away. She told me the name of a golden bay I saw shining in evening sunlight, where she had loved surf sailing under Upholder colors, which are dark wine-red. That was the Bay of Lue by the Sea of Blue. Whether it was sports, commerce, or just plain governing, her blood was about competition and winning. The way she squeezed my hand, it was clear that I was one of her victories. "You looked like such a wild man," she confided in me once as we nuzzled in bed, while rain pattered and splattered from Tulearth turrets and slate-lined domes. "You wore just a dirty loincloth, and I kept hoping it would fall down. I wanted to rip it off you with my teeth and lick you." We both laughed, that night in her dorm. "Your hair stuck straight out in all directions, and you have these beautiful evening-blue eyes. I loved how white and even your teeth were when you grinned at me. I wanted to take your grin home in a jar to treasure it."

"Well, here I am," I told her. "Grin and all." I rested half-upright beside her as she nuzzled in the crook of my arm. I ran a hungry hand down the long, firm slopes of her body. When I had her rear in my hand, she sighed sexually and pressed closer to me. She reached down and took me in her hand. She held my fullness with both hands, gently as if it were a butterfly, and guided it to her waiting chalice. A thousand times I took her to me, and she gave herself, taking me in arms so strong they seemed desperate—and the harsh desire in her breath affirmed what she told me: "I love you more than my life itself."

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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.