He was always watching the sky, hoping for a sign that the war had ended. When he had been younger, the distant nighttime fireworks had been to him a spectacle of beauty; now he knew they were the death-flares of ships, an end to the brutal battles wrongly full of color and light. His sister was on one of those ships-tall, graceful Erin, whom he mostly remembered as a smiling face and strong arms enclosing him on her rare leaves. He missed her, but knew she was needed out there.
Suddenly there was an explosion high above him, far larger than any he had seen before, and then a string of smaller ones following. His throat closed. That had been the station that orbited the planet.
And the others--had one of them been Erin's ship? And then one of the distant points of light was no longer distant as it streaked downward in the sky. It was going to crash-right there, on their land. He stood there staring for several thundering heartbeats until he realized that he should run. He had only taken a few steps before the sudden blast threw him off his feet and flung him toward the house and into darkness.
When he recovered consciousness, he was lying on his bed. Sitting next to him was Erin.
He shouted her name and she stood up to give him her familiar smile and embrace.
"Was that your ship?" he demanded.
She nodded. "Sorry for the crash landing. I was running out of fuel."
"As long as you're back home," he said.
She hesitated. "I can't stay for long," she said. "This is the first place they'll look for me."
"Why are they looking for you?"
"I destroyed the station," she said calmly.
"But the rebels have been trying to do that for years!"
"I know. That's why they finally found someone on our side to do it."
The world seemed unbalanced. "Why did you do it, Erin?"
"The war had gone on too long," she said. "I don't think you can even remember a time when we had peace. It's time we started over, and by now, they have the resources to do it for us. In the end, what does it matter which empire claims us as theirs on the star-maps?"
There was a gun under his pillow that he kept in case looters ever came by. He reached for it now. He wasn't sure he would be able to use it on his sister. But she wasn't his sister. She was a traitor.
Even so, it was difficult to make his fingers curl around the gun.
Harder than anything he had done or ever would do, he thought. But he would do it. "So you destroyed our last defense," he said, hoping impossibly for a denial.
"I did it. It was hard, but I did it." She sank down into her cozy easy chair and sighed. "That was far harder a mission than I'd ever hope to do again."
Currently grooving to: Stanford Talisman - Keep Your Eyes on the Prize