Tony Braddock did everything he could to resist the urge to pace back and forth before the altar. The patient beauty of the chapel that had been the gleaming centerpiece of the otherwise bland Ridgeway Military Reservation was in stark contrast to the anxiousness he felt. The chapel had stood on this spot for over four hundred years, silent witness to countless baptisms, weddings, and funerals. But to Tony, waiting for the remaining members of his tiny wedding party to arrive so he could finally marry the woman he loved, the last forty minutes had seemed every bit as long as the chapel’s four centuries.
“Where can they be?” he wondered aloud for what must have been the tenth time. He glanced yet again at his watch before looking out at the guests who now filled the many pews behind him. Neither he nor Nicole had many friends here, and they originally had wanted a small, private ceremony. But by the time they had invited their few real friends, Nicole’s squadron-mates, and finally made the obligatory invitations to members of the Council – plus the spouses of all of the above – the chapel had been filled to capacity, with nearly five-hundred people in attendance.
Such an event, of course, also drew the attention of the media. Nicole’s combat record, and her current score of nearly two hundred kills, was well known, and Tony was a member of the Council. While their wedding was not exactly considered the gala event of the year, there was a healthy interest in getting some shots of the bride and groom, plus any other notables who might pass before the lens. Besides, the editors had reasoned, there might always be the odd opportunity to gather a bit of smut in the process. In any event, two junior but competent reporters had been dispatched to take in the scene. One was from the Confederation Times, the other from the Navy Journal. They had already circulated amongst the guests for interviews and any tidbits they might pick up while people were still arriving. But right now the two were standing at the back (there was nowhere for them to sit), looking much like everyone else was at the moment: impatient.
Father Hernandez, too, looked around worriedly. While the people here seemed good-humored and were certainly willing to put up with certain inconveniences, there was always the question of how long was too long. Jodi was to be the maid of honor, and Reza was to play a dual role, giving away the bride as well as being Braddock’s best man. As such, their absence constituted something of a problem.
He sighed heavily. “Well, I will see what your bride wishes to do,” he said.
Braddock watched him disappear through one of the doors that let onto the dais that held the altar, trying not to feel silly as he stood there alone, waiting.
“Jodi,” he muttered under his breath, “I’m going to strangle you…”
Meanwhile, Hernandez bustled back to the room where Nicole had been getting ready. Knocking on the door, he called, “Nicole. They have not yet arrived. What do you want to… do…?”
At that moment she opened the door and stepped into the corridor. She wore a white wedding gown that made her look like a princess from a fairy tale. The porcelain skin of her face glowed beneath the veil she wore, and her eyes glittered like jewels, showing no concern, only joyful anticipation.
“They are coming now, Father,” she told him. She could always tell when Reza was near, always knew how he felt. “Trust me,” she said after he gave her a look of acute disbelief.
“Now, child,” he began, “I know you’re nervous on this magnificent day, but you should not let your imagination–”
A door swinging open at the end of the hall, followed by the sound of running footsteps, interrupted him.
“Oh, Jesus – oh, shit, sorry, didn’t mean to say that, Father – Reza’s shuttle was late and we…” Jodi’s explanation tapered off when she saw Nicole standing there next to the old priest. “Nicole,” she breathed. “God, you look so beautiful.”
“I only wonder if the good councilman will be able to properly appreciate such beauty,” Reza said with a smile from behind Jodi. “It is good to see you again, Nicole.”
They embraced, Nicole putting her arms around Reza’s neck as he lifted her from the ground, holding her tightly against his chest.
“Reza,” she breathed as she kissed his cheek, “I am so glad you could come. I knew you would.”
“All the warriors of the Empire could not have kept me away,” he told her. “I am so happy for you, Nicole. I only wish… that I had more time to be with you than we have had over the last few years.” Almost unwillingly, he lightly set her down again. “But–”
“Do not speak of it, mon ami,” she told him, putting a finger against his lips. “You are here now. That is all that is important. Nothing more.”
Hernandez cleared his throat. “Nicole,” he said, “I think perhaps that it is time to begin.”
The music was not traditional; Nicole’s concession to tradition had been her wedding gown. Nonetheless, the chapel’s ancient pipe organ – bringing to life a composition by Jules de Clerc, from Nicole’s native La Seyne – declared the occasion one of joy. Everyone was now standing, turned toward the rear of the chapel. The time they had spent waiting for this moment was forgotten as the moment of truth – and beauty – arrived. Tony Braddock stood nervously at the head of the maroon carpet that would guide his bride to him. Father Hernandez stood by the altar, his eyes beaming.
Jodi came down the aisle first, bravely holding back the tears that were at once a sign of joy and sorrow. Her dress whites sparkled in the sunlight admitted by the chapel’s two-story high windows as her feet made a precise seventy-five centimeter stride toward the altar. She took her place just to the left of where Nicole was to stand. She smiled at Tony’s happily anxious face, and the two of them waited for the bride to emerge.
The music changed tempo, slowing slightly, the major chords now as bright as the sun outside. As one, the guests turned toward the rear of the chapel, expectation plainly written on their faces.
Reza, his dress blues a vivid contrast to the regal white of Nicole’s wedding gown, led her arm-in-arm down the aisle. He ignored the sudden murmuring of those who noticed the Kreelan collar he wore and the length of his hair; in fact, he ignored everyone except the woman who walked beside him and his friends standing at the altar. He rejoiced at the happiness he could feel in her heart and in Tony’s, and the pride he felt in Father Hernandez’s. Inside, though, he wept at the pain he felt in Jodi’s heart, pain that was so much like that in his own. But on his face he wore the mask that he showed to the world when he did not wish to show the truth inside.
Nicole glanced over at him, a cloud of concern flashing across her face. She momentarily felt a pang of guilt at the pain she could sense deep inside him, a melancholy chord that ran through her blood. She felt as if she was abandoning him by marrying Tony. But she had offered herself to him long ago, she had wanted to love him, but he had gently turned her away. Their eyes met for a moment, and their minds linked for just that fraction of a second.
It is my Way, Reza’s eyes told her. Yours is upon a different – I pray happier – path.
Is it indeed, my brother? her own eyes replied, echoing the doubt in her mind.
Reza turned away. Nicole wanted to hold him to her, to force him to look her in the eye once more, but the moment was gone and the altar now stood before them. What had gone unspoken was lost now forever, she understood sadly. She could feel the rhythm of his soul in her blood like faint sighs in the night, but she knew that from this moment on he would never open himself up to her as he once had, would never let her look into his eyes like that again. Not because he was jealous or angry about the vows she was about to take, but because he loved her, and did not want to endanger the happiness she might find with another, with the man she was about to marry.