One Between the Stars

Chapter 39

 Carson slept fitfully that night. Every time he drifted off, his dreams filled with haunting images; ships filled with cyborgs, a head of blue hair and a smug sneer, the horrified eyes of a boy who'd discovered his only friend had betrayed him. The sound of a gunshot and the scream of a woman, and the horrible feeling in his gut that ripped loose whenever he heard that scream. Like the floor was falling out from under him. Like he was being torn apart...

He awoke with a gasp to a dark room. His hands met the cool silken blanket that he'd neglected to tuck himself into, and he realized he'd fallen asleep still in his clothes.

His eyes drifted to the small form curled up next to him, enveloped in loose robes and her finger marking her place in a book she'd been reading. That's right. He remembered now; they'd spent the evening there, her reading a book, him scrolling through his port-pod. They must have fallen asleep there.

He smiled at her; when Ionia slept, her mouth curved upward in an almost smile, her colorful hair fanned out around her. The book curled in her arms was a leather-bound volume; she'd told him it was about a man and woman who were in love, but could never be together.

"That sounds like a sad story," he'd said with a frown.

"Not really, so far," she said. "Well, it's not all joy; but life isn't like that anyway. The story is about them finding a way to be together, to beat the odds." She looked down at the text. "They hail from two different planet kingdoms, who are enemies. The man is to be king soon, as his father is on his deathbed. And the girl is a servant to the queen that the prince is betrothed to. They meet at a ball."

"Do they end up together?"

"I don't know," she said, looking up and smiling. "I haven't gotten to that part yet. But I hope so."

And he'd had a thought flit through his mind. It was in her eyes, he could see it; a kind of hope for a brighter future, for these characters or for two real people they both knew, he wasn't sure. He wanted to ask her, wanted one answer in particular - but halted the words mere moments before they could escape his lips. No, he shouldn't be thinking that. There was no point.

But a part of him couldn't help itself. So he asked, "Do you think two people could beat odds like that?"

Something flickered in Ionia's eyes, and he wondered if she'd seen right through the cloaked question, like as through polished glass. There was no telling. But she answered, "If you're referring to the characters in the book, of course; it's fiction after all, and isn't fiction supposed to give us hope for reality?"

Carson smiled at this. "I suppose so."

Now he wanted to wake her up and tell her no, he wasn't referring to the characters. He wanted to know if that book really was plausible to become reality, or if it was written on the impossibility that such a thing like that could be granted, that with a universe as unyielding and uncaring as the one that lay outside his ship's windows, he could never be fortunate enough to have that.

Even if it was right in front of his very eyes.

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When Ionia awoke the next morning, Carson was already up, lacing up his boots. She realized that she'd slept the whole night next to him, her book curled against her, and she fought the heat threatening to creep into her cheeks. "Where're you off to?"

"Just taking a walk," he said, shrugging on his leather jacket; the servants had returned their freshly washed clothes the afternoon before. Ionia noticed that though he was dressed and his hair was combed and he'd shaven...he looked ragged somehow. Tired. Had he slept well last night?