Coll Musak stepped out
of the run-down Mission Clinic and tried to think of a time when he had left
that dreary building with good news, but he couldn’t, so he proceeded to the tram
stop through the mist, murk and smog.
It was cold, and damp and
the air was foul, the smog was so thick that it was impossible to discern where
the buildings ended, and the sky began.
When he reached the Tram
stop he sat down on what passed for a bench, leant his walking stick against
the bench beside him and then reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a flask
and put it to his lips and took a swig.
“You shouldn’t do that
you know, it’ll kill you it will” A voice said from the other end of the bench.
He turned his head to
see that the voice belonged to a small skinny Gouveian woman of indeterminate
age wearing shabby clothes, who he had seen on the Tram several times before,
but they had never spoken.
“It killed my husband”
she continued “And he was much younger than you”
He smiled and nodded
then he took another swig.
Coll was fifty-nine
years old, almost sixty, and he gave up drinking thirty years before when he
met Silia, who soon after became his wife, and he remained tee total, even
though war and grief, until a few weeks before that day when he was first diagnosed
with a rare brain tumour, inoperable.
There were treatments
of course but they would merely delay the inevitable, the prognosis was that
without treatment he would probably see his sixtieth birthday but definitely not
his sixty first, so he figured a drink wouldn’t hurt him
“I will just have to
take that dear lady” he said to her and smiled.
Coll was a big man;
over six feet tall and broad shouldered and despite his need to walk with a
stick he still carried himself with a military bearing and apart from Plasma
shell remnants in his leg, hence the need for the stick, and the fact that he
was dying he had felt ok, an occasional nagging headache but no more than that.
He had lost a little
weight of late, not a bad thing in itself he had been a stone or two overweight
for a good few years, and he had felt tired a good deal which he put down to
his age, he wouldn’t have seen a doctor at all but for the fact he had had an
accident and been knocked down in the street by a man running from the Prefects.
But in those few short
weeks since the initial diagnosis the pain had started, and it was getting
worse, pain like he had never known before, even when he was blown up in the
war it didn’t hurt so bad, and he was starting to look gaunt and skin hung loosely
about his neck.
He thought back to the
conversation he had had with the Mission Doctor, barely an hour earlier, a man
who looked older than his years who smelt of whisky and peppermint and had tremors
in his hands.
“You have a little
time to get your affairs in order” he said to him.
“But you will
deteriorate very quickly”
“Just as well I have
no affairs to get in order” he had thought to himself.
He had no one to miss
him or mourn him; his passing would be as insignificant as a ripple on a pond.
Silia, his wife of 19
years passed away more than ten years previous after a Legion air strike, and
his only child Kered died a few days later of his wounds.
He had lost touch with
the friends and comrades from the war and those friends he had made on Eikon
Major were either already dead or unable to recognise him, so there were no
beneficiaries of his meagre estate.
There was enough in
his savings to deal with his mortal remains but no more than that.
He wasn’t scared, he
was ready to die, he had had enough, his life had been almost intolerable since
Silia died, lonely and meaningless, but the last year had all but broken him
and he was ashamed of himself and that was something he thought would never
happen, but he had allowed himself to become a victim, giving in to
intimidation and what was most unforgivable of all he had become a coward.
After flying the
Spider Hawk to Eikon Major, Lyris and Zerrad parked at the space port, then
caught the Hi-speed Shuttle from the capital City Rendon and travelled for
three hours to the grimy run down former industrial power house of Ditton,
where they rented a Runabout.
The Skeets, Oshwin
Lemik and Coll Musak were all from Shax and all fought against the Legion in
the Shaxon War, the Skeet brothers were fighter pilots, Oshwin was Logistics
Commander and Coll Musak was a Corvette Captain.
When the war came to
an unsatisfactory conclusion for the Shaxson rebels the Legion exacted a heavy
retribution which lead to some of the former fighters having to turn their
backs on their home worlds to escape the Legions punitive punishments.
None of them had any
reason to stay when the war was over so even if the Legion had been prepared to
allow them to live in peace there was nothing left to bind them to their
birthplace.
After leaving the
Shaxon System they all went their separate ways, and it was just a twist of
fate that they had all ended up in the Eikon Cluster.
Oshwin had been there
the longest arriving within a year of leaving Shax and Coll arrived a few
months later, though neither knew of the others existence, the Skeets arrived
some years after that, but they had only learned that Coll was in the system after
Oshwin passed on a message to them from Vinid Cupra, comms officer in the
transmitter hut at the Odekka landing field on Achrem, to say that he had been
drinking with some Shaxon Grain Freighter hands, and they told him they had met
another compatriot in a shithole of a town called Ditton, on Eikon Major, and
whilst in his cups, he let slip that he was planning to kill someone.
It was that news which
caused them to act, he was clearly in trouble, and that they had to help him
because they owed him, had it not been for Captain Coll Musak the Skeet
brothers would be dead.
Which was why they
were in Ditton, and they had been in town for three days before they tracked
him down, and they were parked in the street when they saw him leave the
Mission Clinic and watched him cross the road.
They knew that Coll
was a proud man, so they couldn’t let on they had gone there to find him, it
would have to appear that they had stumbled upon him and make the chance
meeting as casual as possible.
So, they watched him walk
towards the Tram Stop, then sitting on the bench and talking to an elderly lady
and when he took his second swig from his flash they drove towards him and when
the Runabout was parallel to the Tram Stop Lyris leant out of the window and
shouted
“Captain Musak! Is
that you? My God it is! As I live and breathe”