The Only One

the polish of an extensive education. But I have read books. I have read many books. From them I have learned what the galaxy was like before."
    Taj's heart skipped a beat. Romjha meant her father's books: Tomes on government, religion, science, and philosophy. They'd formed the basis for Romjha's ideas—she saw that now. She should have burned them while she had the chance!
    "But now," Romjha told Jal and his men, "the galaxy is a dark and dangerous place. You say that disease, famine, and terror are rampant across the remains of the Empire. Worlds live in fear of weapons of mass destruction, created and perfected by those without conscience by those who embrace cruelty and worship soulless power. In some places slavery exists—even thrives. And sexual slavery, as well, you say." His expression darkened further. "Despicable. Civilization has surely reached an all-time low when such barbarism is tolerated. And toward women! From a woman's body comes life. Because of this, she must be protected, respected, worshipped .. . loved. I humbly believe that is what the Great Mother expects of us, has always expected of us. She is a female deity—overseeing the mortal world and that of the Ever After.
    From Her womb sprang the original civilization that spawned all humankind!"
    Romjha's golden gaze swept over those seated at the table only to hesitate on Taj, sparking with something she couldn't define yet that made her heart flutter. For once she didn't narrow her eyes in challenge of his chivalrous views. His desire to protect her, to keep her safe, had taken on an entirely new significance.
    She'd often seen it as a need to control, or perhaps a lack of confidence in her abilities. But it wasn't that at all.
    Taj thought he had lost his faith, but in fact he'd merely redirected it. Looking out for her was how he expressed his spirituality. The realization left her heart pounding.
    But it didn't mean she was going to give up demolitions for kneading flatbread by the cooking stones, either.
    Jal listened to Romjha, his hands curved around his drinking glass. Like Cheya, he'd seen his share of carnage; it took only one look in his world-weary eyes to tell that he agreed that women weren't meant for the battlefield. But Taj suspected Jal's reasoning was different from Romjha's: more of a basic instinct to protect those who were weaker than Romjha's worshipful view.
    Romjha finished. "You have driven out those who practice such cruelties, Jal. For that, I admire you. I admire your people. But the peace on your world is a temporary one. To believe otherwise is a fool's fantasy. There are countless warlords and rogue kings. For every one you defeat, another will take his place."
    "It's why keeping a low profile makes sense," Taj murmured to Elder Patra, loud enough for Romjha to hear. "Hide by day. Raid by night."
    Romjha flashed her an unreadable look as Jal spread his hands and asked, "What would you have us do, commander? Lie down and let them roll over us? No! We will fight. To do otherwise is to lose hope, and to lose hope is to die. That is Cheya's creed. I will follow it to the grave." Jal slammed one bruised, scabbed-over fist onto the table. "This I vow!"
    Taj's glass of root ale—a rare treat—splashed onto the table's stone surface. She watched the droplets quiver, mirroring the sensation in her belly as the two warriors resumed their argument.
    "To the grave you will indeed go if you wish to restore the monarchy," Romjha said.
    "We wish to restore stability."
    "By installing Cheya as king! King Vedla saw to his own selfish interests even as the galaxy crumbled around him. Do you seek to repeat what history has already proved does not work?"
    Taj perked up. Tell him yes, outsider, she thought. Yes! Then Romjha will want nothing to do with the monarchy or you.
    Jal exhaled. "No."
    Taj's shoulders drooped.
    "We want to make a better future, Romjha. Better than it was before."
    "Better? Better will happen only with strong leadership, sacrifice, and a willingness to change. We must build on what came before, make it different. The monarchy and its parliament stopped functioning properly generations before it fell. That path mustn't be retrod."
    Taj took a long swallow of ale for courage. "The monarchy may have been corrupt, but it was unifying," she called out. "People believed in it. Who'll rule in your galaxy, Romjha? Will the Vash keep the peace?"
    She'd meant it as a taunt, goading him with the ancient name of the