• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

He managed a smile. “Both, I think. But one of the things I realized is that I can't do this without support. For a certainty, not without you.” He put a hand on each of her shoulders. “No matter where I was, no matter what outlandish world I was on—Arrawd, Jast, Visaria, Gestalt, Blasusarr—I wondered if what I was doing was the right thing, because everything I was doing and all that I was experiencing was without you.” His fingers tightened. “I need you with me, Clarity. Not waiting for me if and when I finish with it. Whether I can find this artifact again or not, whether the finding of it portends anything effective or not, whether the whole galaxy, or for that matter the entire universe, goes to hell or not—none of it matters to me anymore if I'm not with you.” Reluctantly he let go of her shoulders, dropped his arms, and looked past her, his gaze coming to rest on the quiet waters of the vast lake. His voice threatened to crack.

“I've been so alone for so long, Clarity. I just can't do it anymore. Not even to save the galaxy. Not even to save myself.”

For a long while she said nothing. Then she stepped forward, put her arms around his waist, and drew him to her. A wide, warm smile spread across her face. “Philip—Flinx—you've never really been alone since the day I met you.”

From where he was sitting on the air lounge down on the beach, Barryn had watched the reunion with slowly rising anger. Or at least he had since Clarity had slapped the stranger across the face. That initial delight had given way steadily to dismay, then to despair, and finally to antipathy. Who was this lanky red-haired outsider, to show up after an absence of so many months and try to steal away the woman on whom he, Tambrogh Barryn, had lavished so much time and attention? If it was indeed the shadowy individual known as Philip Lynx, he was in line to receive some choice words at the very least. Rising from the air lounge, his mounting resentment bolstered by righteous indignation, the medtech strode up the slope toward the embracing couple. That they took no notice of him until he was almost on top of them only served to further stoke his resentment.

A heavy, insistent hand tapped Flinx on the shoulder. “Look here, thinp, is your name Philip Lynx?”

The youthful redhead looked around and responded with an unexpectedly gracious smile. “My friends call me Flinx.”

“All right then—‘Flinx.’ My name is Tambrogh Barryn and this lady is my friend.” He took a step back, ready for anything. “I know who you are because I've heard her talk about you.”

Flinx turned his smile on Clarity. “Is that true? You talk about me?”

She returned the smile. “You know how it is. Talk long enough and sooner or later every little thing gets mentioned.”

He nodded, then lost the smile. “How good a friend is this gentleman?”

Clarity glanced over at the quietly fuming medtech. “Tam's been very kind to me during the late stages of my convalescence. I'll always be grateful for his company, his kind words, and his support.”

Complimentary as her words were, they were not the ones Barryn wanted to hear. Instead of complaining, he turned his ire on the tall redhead. “I don't know where you've been all the time Clarity has been fighting to recover from her serious injuries, but I've been right here with her.” Resting his hands on his hips, he struck a deliberately challenging pose. “Doesn't seem to me that anyone who really cared about her would disappear and leave her to recover all by herself. I know she has some odd friends who look in on her from time to time, but that's not the kind of attention and compassion she deserves.”

The last vestiges of Flinx's smile fell away. “You're absolutely right. But it couldn't be avoided. There was”—and his gaze flicked back to Clarity—“some unavoidable business I had to attend to. I didn't want to leave her behind. But she couldn't travel. Promises had been made, and before I realized it circumstances led me to deviate even