“But—”
“Go to Selene. They have regeneration experts there, George. They’ll grow your arm back for you.”
George shrugged good-naturedly. “Long as they don’t grow it back before our hearing.” He waved his stump. “I want those IAA bludgers t’see what the bastards did to me.”
Fuchs patted George’s good shoulder. “And I want Humphries to be there to see it.”
Fuchs and Amanda spent that night making love. No words, no talk about what had happened or discussions about what the future might bring. Nothing but animal heat and passion.
Lying beside her afterward, their room lit only by the dimmed numerals of the digital clock, Fuchs realized he had made love to Amanda as if he would never see her again. He had learned something in that battle out in space: His first brush with imminent death had taught him that he had to live life as if it would end in an instant.
I have no future, he told himself in the silence of their darkened room. As long as I’m in this war against Humphries I cannot hope for anything. I must live moment by moment, expecting nothing, ready to accept whatever comes next and deal with it. Only then can I escape the fear; only by shutting out the future can I cope with the present.
Briefly he thought about the frozen zygotes they had waiting in Selene. If I’m killed, Fuchs reflected, at least Amanda will be able to bear our child—if she wants to.
Amanda, lying beside him, pretended to sleep. But she was thinking too. What can Lars accomplish by this hearing with the IAA? Even if they find Humphries responsible for the attacks on all those ships, what can they do about it? Whatever happens, it will only make Martin even more enraged against Lars.
If only Lars would give this up, forget this war of his. But he won’t. He’ll keep on fighting until they kill him. He’ll keep on fighting until he’s as murderous and hateful as they are. He’ll never stop, no matter how I beg him. He’s moving away from me, becoming a stranger to me. Even in bed, he’s not the same person anymore.