Too much of this sounds familiar. It’s a story I should know, but I don’t. Especially the part about the admiral who gave the planet to his wife. I wonder if she was worth it.
She was: of ice and honey, ivory and carnelian sunset.
How did I know it was an admiral? The angry girl said “commander.”
His name was Whelan, Fleet Admiral Cillian Whelan of the Unified Forces. Cillian Whelan means “killer wolf” in an ancient Celtic tongue.
I should know this. I should know all of it. This should be easy.
Let’s go back to the beginning. The feeling that I’ve done all this before. There’s something there. Something as solid as images carved in wood, if I can only remember.
This planet doesn’t taste right, I said.