The Starward Exiles Entry 7

A Dangerous Plan

In my last entry, I began recounting the conversation between Madulluel, my sponsor, and Heath, the smuggler who’d transported me to her ship. Here I shall continue where I’d left off.

Seeing that Heath had calmed himself, Madulluel took a breath and sighed. She picked up the table she’d thrown and placed it in front of Heath. Then she returned to her chair and faced him once more. The outburst seemed to have deflated some of the tension that had been electrifying the room. Everyone, save myself, had been expecting some kind of outburst, and now that it had happened, it was time to have the real conversation.

Madulluel said, “I know that it seems like I’m trying to manipulate the situation. I’m not. I won’t lie. I want to be with you. The thought of it makes me glad. I refuse to believe you’ll be angry with me forever, and I know that I would be a very good wife to you, and I know you will be a very good father.”

“Because you saw me with Mary,” Heath said. “You saw how I was with our children, the children I no longer have. Thanks to you.”

“That’s not fair,” Helen said. Even turned to look at her. I heard Helen’s knuckles pop as she squeezed her fists. Helen met Heath’s eyes and went on, “Mary said you and Madulluel were too much, but none of the girls had anything to say until we were free. Then the blame started, and Mary went along. It had nothing to do with the two of you. It was just safe to complain.”

Heath winced as if he’d been slapped. I can’t be sure, but I suspect that, while Helen was prone to speaking her mind, she’d never uttered those exact words to him. He stared at her for another moment, then looked back at Madulluel. He wasn’t going to address her remark.

“What about them?” he asked. “Are you going to marry them all? Because I’m not leaving them.”

“I thought the three of you were no longer together in that sense,” Madulluel said.

“We’re not, but it doesn’t matter,” Heath said. “People talk, Mad. And they’re going to say that you’re not just in love with me; they’ll say you’ve become infatuated with my species. You’re a race traitor.”

Madulluel smiled. “Polygamy is not a crime in my world, but if you’re worried about such things, I can find ways to keep them around. You know that. As to your worries about the perception of betrayal, I have a plan.” She stood up and approached the large window behind them. She watched the ships passing by for a moment, then said, “It’s risky. But it’s the only plan I can think of, and it happens to be a good one, if it works.”

“If it works,“ Jill said, and I could hear a tremor of fear in her voice. She’d already guessed what Madulluel had in mind, and I suspected she’d put the whole thing together the moment Madulluel had proposed in her odd way.

Madulluel turned to her. “Have you guessed? Say it then, and I’ll tell you if you’re right. The whole thing might be easier if it came from you.”

Jill looked at me, then back at Madulluel. “You’ve sent us on dangerous missions. You had us smuggle a monk. You hate the Nordics. You want the Confederacy back, and you need to establish an alliance even though the humans are losing the war. We’re not the winning ship, so the alliance has to be sentimental. You’re going with a political marriage, but Heath is just a smuggler. And you can’t marry anybody important on Earth because the humans still suspect the Droguldai. That leaves you with only one alternative. You have to turn Heath into a war hero. You know something about where the Nordics are going to hit, and you’re going to send us into that mess to make a name for him. If you’re sending us the outer regions, that would explain the monk. And it works well for you because nobody from your race will be there. We’ll have to join with someone else, which means that even if Heath doesn’t do any fighting, you can spin whatever stories you want, and, provided the stories don’t come from you directly, your people will believe them.”

“I don’t think I can keep him out of all the fighting,” Madulluel said. “That would breed resentment with whatever races are present, and that could cause us problems later on. But I can embellish. If he lives.”

“You want us to fight?” Cinthia asked. “Like in a battle, a war?”

“We’ve done plenty of fighting,” Helen said. “But we’re not soldiers. I’m not taking orders from somebody I don’t know.”

“I think you’ll like the person I’m sending you to,” Madulluel said. “He’s a human, and my people tell me he’s unusually talented. In fact, they say he’s one of the best. He’ll train you well, and he’s also the one who came up with this new strategy, so I think he’ll know where to put you.”

“What strategy?” Heath asked.

“I’ll let him explain it,” Madulluel said. “Your job will be to take Mr. Petrov to him, then follow him to the outer regions.”

My heart began to pound, and I tried not to look too nervous. I’d fought during the campaign to free Earth from the Nordics, but I was in my forties, and it had been some time since I’d picked up a gun. I was a monk, not a soldier. But I knew better than to complain. It wouldn’t have done any good ultimately. Madulluel had provided the money for my journey, so I was going to go where I was sent. And I can’t imagine I could’ve said anything that wouldn’t have made an already tense situation worse. Besides, a monk’s mission field is everywhere, even a battle.

“I’m not going to let you lie for me,” Heath said. “If I’m going to fight, I’ll do my best to become a war hero on my own. But I’m not saying I’m agreeing to any of this, and I’m certainly not taking Cinthia, Helen, and Jill into a war.”

“I’m already dead,” Jill said. “You know I’m going with you.”

“We’re going,” Cinthia said.

“Don’t make a scene over it,” Helen added.

Heath stared at the three of them for a time. “I have nothing to prove.” He muttered. Heath turned back to Madulluel. “If I ask you why, you’ll tell me I should do it for my people. I suppose I can’t argue with that. But what if I said, I’ll go, but I’m still not marrying you? What would you say then?”

“I’d say you should do it for your people,” Madulluel said. Heath laughed. It was a bitter thing. Madulluel went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “What would be so terrible about it? I’m not asking you to love me. I don’t expect so much. I’m not even asking you to be loyal. But I know you love our little girl, even though you’ve refused to see her.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “I’ve seen it in your eyes. Every time I mention her, I can see the want. The desire to be there. And I know that you hate this life as a smuggler. I know you want to have the sort of life you had with Mary. I may not be Mary, but I can give you something like your old life. Don’t you want that at least?”

“I don’t want anything,” Heath muttered.

“That’s a lie!” Madulluel snapped.

“Let us want for you,” Cinthia said. Madulluel and Heath turned toward her. Cinthia took a step forward. “You know what I want? To see you smile again, Heath. When things were at their worst. When we were all embarrassed and cold, you held us. You smiled at us and told us it was going to be okay. You were strong then, and I believed you, and you know what? It was. It was okay. Mad let us go. We’re free. Then Mary left. I never realized she was your strength, and when she left, you broke. I love you, but I hate what you are, and I don’t know where I’d fit in Mad’s plan, but I’d want to be around, just to see you smile again.”

“I agree,” Helen said. “This version of you sucks, Heath.” She stood up, approached the table, and took his hand. “They stole our child.” Her voice broke, but she went on. “But Mad’s kid is here, and she deserves to have a dad. If we die, great. Things stay like they are, unless the monk’s right and there is a God. If that’s the case, I guess we’ll have to figure that out, but if we live, well, Mad’s not Mary, but the kid will be happy. If we can’t be happy ourselves, at least we can make sure she’s alright. That’s something.”

“It’s war,” Heath said, looking up at Helen. “I’m not afraid of it, but let’s not pretend like we’re playing the odds. There are no odds. She could still end up without a dad.” He looked at Madulluel. “This is a stupid plan. But it looks like I’m outvoted.”

I’ll continue recording this conversation in the next entry, Lord willing.

May God grant you peace.

Hieromonk Nicholas Petrov