“I’m a sucker for a father figure.” Heaven Langley.

Dawn lay upon their shoulders. A fresh breeze carried the scent of hyacinth. A view of white gravestones dominated the hillside. Raul knelt before Rico’s grave and placed a single rose. Crispin knelt beside his friend. Sam and Besh stood back in quiet observation.

Sam said in a hushed voice, “The Co’Hwaul has returned. Albert’s Elite are on board.”

Besh asked, “Is it time to leave?”

“Not just yet,” said Sam. “I wanted them to become familiar with the Garjan. It’s our latest stealth project with enhanced features.”

Besh looked at the two young men as they cleaned weeds from the grave. He asked quietly, “Will you take Raul to Orlain?”

“Yes,” said Sam. He nodded to himself and added, “It will be a hard sell, but I have to make it work.”

Besh turned to look directly into Sam’s face. He asked, “What about his mother?”

Sam turned and studied his friend’s face. Then, he sighed and turned away. “Not yet.”

Besh dropped the matter, seeing that it distressed his friend. He asked instead, “So, what do you think of Heaven?”

Sam watched his son, his face hardened under the burden of a King. Besh instantly regretted bringing up a personal issue. He felt a compelling fondness for the young woman, despite her penchant for destruction. Perhaps, he cared when he should not. What passed between Sam and Heaven was not his business. Besh hoped that Sam would ignore the inquiry.

Looking ahead with a straight face, Sam answered, “A pleasant distraction.”

A pleasant distraction? Besh could scarcely believe his ears. He looked at his friend with sudden unease. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sam turned and spoke first.

“With your permission,” said Sam, “I will place a headstone at your friend’s grave.”

Besh stared into his friend’s face. He knew the hard dark side of him, but there was also a light inside of him that often peeked out. Men are not simple. They are complex creatures, a roiling mix of good and bad. It seemed to Besh that Sam understood Cosmo. It seemed to Besh that Sam used Cosmo to point a finger at himself. Sam understood Besh and was able to answer a question without truly answering. It was a small silent threat: the Heaven issue is off-limits.

Raul and Crispin stood before them. Raul said to Sam, “Thank you.”

Sam embraced his son in strong arms and slapped his back sympathetically. He stood back and said, “Rico was a good man.”

Sam turned and walked from the cemetery. Besh, Raul, and Crispin followed. Beasley asked from behind, “Should I call a skid?”

“Let’s walk,” Sam answered.

Walking back to the Palace was a joy; the morning sun, the singing birds, the quiet rush of people on their way to work. No one spoke. Besh recalled the early hour in Heaven’s room. He felt an inexcusable thrill in her presence. The excitement he experienced was not appropriate for an old man. She seemed eager and accessible as she pressed close to him with each new item she wished to include. 

Some of the many items were definitely useful. Some of them were dubious, but he promised to include them simply because she asked. Some of the items were mysterious. He could not fathom Heaven's intent. When he returned to her room with his bag, he found her joy infectious. She laughed to see the bag in use.

Heaven spoke unabashedly of a search for truth that his disappearance had inspired. She spoke in great detail of her research. Besh was surprised with both the volume and content of her personal quest. At last,  near dawn, she unwrapped and proudly displayed a plaster cast of the sigil from the portal he had vanished through.

Besh looked up as people pressed in around him. He had walked into the commerce quarter, his private thoughts making him oblivious to the increasing crowds. The noises were common, the activities ordinary. Yet, Besh felt a sudden dull alarm. He watched Sam stop and tense, turning to scan the bedlam of the morning multitude.

Two men, dressed in dark jumpsuits and hooded jackets, rushed toward them. Besh had no time to think. The man before him attacked with his right hand. The weapon he brandished was the size of a pen. Besh took the man’s arm with his left hand and pulled him to the left. At the same time, he kicked the assailant’s left leg from under him and jumped backward in a full spin.

Besh landed with the man pinned beneath him. From the corner of his eye, Besh saw Sam take his attacker’s pen-like weapon and jab it into the man’s neck. He rolled quickly from the man and pressed the weapon into the neck of the man beneath Besh. The assailants lay motionless. The crowd circled them in irrepressible curiosity.

Sam jumped to his feet, pulling Besh with him. He quickly broke the glass of the public alarm on a light pole. He pressed the button. It took mere seconds. Raul and Beasley stood stunned as Sam hid the two weapons inside his jacket. Lights flashed. An alarm squealed loudly, and within moments, police arrived.

“Say nothing,” warned Sam.

When Sam pressed his thumb into the call-tablet, the police were immediately deferential. Sam stood apart from his group and spoke quietly with the police. Later, a haul skid arrived, and the corpses were taken away. Sam returned to his small group, shooing away the inquisitive bystanders. He pulled them close and spoke.

“Those were Uswaan assassins,” said Sam for his group alone. “Let’s head for the Palace.”

Seated inside the palace foyer, they waited for palace security to arrive. Sam had called ahead to warn Albert. Besh looked at the still stunned faces of Raul and Crispin as they sat close to one another. Sam faced the palace door while Besh stared across from himself to an ornate painting in a large frame. The gaunt and twisted face of his assailant was fresh and clear.

Five security men in dark suits came for them. People stepped aside as the security team escorted them up the stairs. Soon, Besh found himself in the throne room walking toward the rear office. Albert entered through a back door and dismissed the team.

“The seriousness of the situation is finally striking home,” said Albert. “I’m shocked.”

Sam replied, “The Uswaan are a threat to both of our peoples.” He placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder and pulled him to the back of the office. “Let’s speak privately,” he said.

Crispin turned to Besh with wide eyes. “I can’t believe your moves!” he exclaimed quietly.

Raul reached out to touch Besh on his upper arm. “Señor ninja; ¡lo tienes! Damn!”

Albert returned, leaving Sam in the back to speak in his wrist communicator. He put a hand on the shoulders of Raul and Beasley. “This is a grave matter,” he said. He dropped his hands and turned to Beasley. “I’m sure you want to join the team,” he said, leaning solemnly close, “but with things the way they are, I need you here with me.”

Crispin stammered, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Albert turned to Raul. “You have important work ahead of you, but I sincerely hope this is not the last time we see each other.” He took Raul’s hand and shook it.

Albert turned and embraced Besh. “And you, uncle,” he said, hugging him tightly. “Please return.”

Besh stepped from the shuttle into the hangar bay of the Co’Hwaul. He was the last to arrive. The bay was impressively vast, housing ships of many types. Besh took a moment to look around. One particularly large black ship caught his eye, and he wondered if that was the one. As if in answer, Heaven stepped from the back of it with an empty hand truck.

Besh saw Sam engaged in a lively conversation with Hack. They passed an APE between themselves. Cadet Shi’nese stepped up to Besh and smiled. Besh looked down into the alien face and returned the smile. How easily she might be mistaken for just another pretty young woman! Well, he thought, people are just people.

She said, “The Garjan is the big one with your friend waving at you.”

Shi’nese took Besh by the hand and led him over to the black craft. Heaven smiled at Besh and took his hand from the Cadet’s grip. Shi’nese smiled at Besh and said, “I will keep you in my thoughts for a safe return.”

As the Cadet walked away, Heaven tugged Besh up the ramp with a playful smile. She said, “I heard you took down an Uswaan assassin.”

Besh replied, “I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

Besh marveled at the inside of the Garjan. Richly appointed, it seemed like something from a space junkie’s wet dream. Simone and Saltry sat in the cockpit.

Saltry said, “This ride is sweet!”

Leaning from her seat, Simone added, with a familiar smile, “Sprinkles, baby”

Olaf stepped out of nowhere to face Besh with a broad smile. “Is he a wizard, or is he a Ninja?” he asked happily.

Besh gladly took the man’s hand. As Olaf pumped, Simone and Saltry gathered close. Saltry took a quick grip on the hand that Olaf grudgingly released. He shook it and said, “Who’d have thought?”

Simone pushed her way through the two men to hug Besh. She said, “A man like you brings good luck to the team.”

“I do?” asked Besh.

Simone answered, “Hell yeah! Hard to kill.”

Hack walked up from behind and slapped Besh on the back. “Hey, old man,” said Hack. “Welcome back.”

Hack opened a wall compartment and tucked the APE securely inside. Besh said, “Thanks,” but no one heard, as Saltry raised his hand with a strange weapon of Orlainese design. He called happily, “Hey, Hack. Check this baby.”

Hack’s muscled arms seemed hard to cross, but he managed. He replied to Saltry in a casual manner. “Some like candy, some like steak.”

Driscoll stepped from a side room and spotted Besh. She approached smiling. If it was possible, thought Besh, she was taller and more intimidating than she was seven years prior. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulled him close, and smiled down into his face.

Her deep commanding voice blasted past her smile. “You still single?” 

Besh smiled and blushed. With no idea how to respond, or how he might extricate himself from her manly grip, Besh was relieved to hear Hack’s voice. “The King wants us in his sit-room.”