The Only One

home, completing the promise he'd made—to their people, to her—she would be there, waiting for him.
    They kissed, slow and long. When they finally moved apart, he clasped her hand in his. Fingers twined, they made their way through the maze of tunnels to where she would watch him embark on his trip to the stars.

Epilogue
    Romjha B'kah stood before the visiting members of the embryonic and still-struggling Galactic Council.
    While technology again allowed communication without having to meet in person, he preferred such interaction when lobbying his life's work to the people tasked with implementing it.
    If nothing else, the travels of the men and women of the council to Sienna and the other seven homeworlds of the men who had fought for and won the peace would prove to a galactic population of trillions that the space lanes were safe to traverse once again.
    Or so Romjha prayed. Five standard years after he'd first left Sienna, and now five more since the last of the warlords had been defeated, the galaxy could still be a dangerous place. But it was improving. And it would be even more so with the hoped-for passage of the Treatise of Trade, an enormous document encompassing a framework for economy and commerce, as well as a stringent moral code for all.
    Throughout were sprinkled Taj's so-called proverbs as well.
    As he thought of them, a corner of his mouth quirked up with affection. They had written it together, practically, with what they'd learned from being together: "The family is holy; sexuality enhances spirituality, and is to be celebrated, for sacred is the joy found in pleasing, consensual relations between a man and a woman." His wife had as much of a hand in the document's creation as Jal, Cheya, Aleq, and the rest. If they, the eight warriors, formed the body of this new Federation, Taj was its conscience.
    Taj. . . Warmth filled him. He ached to end his speech and return to her. She didn't care for politics, never had, and stubbornly left it to him. Pregnant with their second child, another beautiful daughter, she waited for him now, protected and safe in the gardens of their sprawling home under construction in the desert highlands of Sienna. At the rate they were adding on to accommodate the constant influx of guests, it would someday be a palace! Kings, he and the other warriors were often likened to—a term Romjha disliked, but if anyone deserved to be a queen, it was Taj Sai B'kah.
    He inhaled deeply and faced his audience. "The Treatise of Trade is unlike anything the civilized galaxy has seen. It will help stabilize the new federation, allowing it to mature. A worthy foundation for our society, it will someday, I hope, be an integral part of our culture, and our faith."
    Quietly he concluded, "It is difficult to imagine a war so terrible, comprised of acts so heinous, that its psychological aftermath impelled warriors bred for battle to lay down their weapons. But we have seen that. And we have seen something better—the possibility of peace for all time. It is my goal, and that of the other warriors, to incorporate this intent, codify it in the proposed Treatise of Trade, so that we will never forget." He paused, took a breath. "I humbly ask the Council to see the importance of approving this holiest of documents."
    All were silent at first. Then one man stood and went down on one knee. "You are Romjha, our light in the dark. Blessed be the Eight!"
    Others followed, and bowed their heads. The silence was eerie. Applause he had expected; not this. But as he began walking amongst the kneeling council members, coaxing them to their feet, he saw tears in the eyes of many, and understood their passion, their appreciation. It had been a long and agonizing road for many, this path to peace that now seemed to be coming to an end in a good place, a safer one.
    His shoulders heavy with the weight of a newly born civilization, Romjha left the council chamber behind, but the responsibility he bore lightened with each stride that carried him closer to the gardens where his family awaited. Soon he'd be transformed back into the man he was at heart—a private man with simple needs; a protector, a loving mate and doting father. He was no king there, in private with his family.
    A high-pitched squeal indicated his daughter had sighted him in the shaded garden. As the child ran forward, Taj also stood, the flowing hem of her over-blouse undulating in the highland's unceasing breeze.
    Her smile told him