Carnifex

2/7/467 AC, Hovercraft pads, Main Cantonment, Isla Real

In contrast to Cara's happy smile, Cruz's face was a stone mask, a study in "Man, hiding his misery." While Cara played with the kids, he just looked longingly in the general direction of his tercio's camp, a few miles up the coast.

Their household goods were long since packed up; the 3 bedroom bungalow they'd shared turned back over to LHD, the Legionary Housing Directorate. They had a place waiting in the city now, while Cruz attended university. He'd met the new neighbors and found he had nothing in common with any of them. Maybe his classmates at the university would be better.

Maybe, but I doubt it.

Somewhere in his personal bag Cruz had the orders assigning him to Seventh Cohort (Reserve) of the First Tercio (Principe Eugenio). At least he'd be able to soldier one long weekend a month and a month over the summer. The three month's pay he'd earn would come in handy, too, since a legionary veteran's student stipend, even for a centurion, was something less than generous for a married man with two children. Really, it wouldn't be enough to live on, but for the guaranteed loans. And those came with strings.

Cara never thought about that. She was happy enough that her man would be home and out of danger. She never seemed to have considered how miserable he was going to be without that danger, and always stuck at home.

Cruz heard a growing whine and looked out to sea. Yes, there it was; the huge, Volgan-built hovercraft that would take them from the island to the landing point in the City. From there they'd take a taxi to their new apartment, their new "home."

Home? Cruz thought. What is home? It's not just the place you live; it's not just the place your woman is. I think . . . maybe . . . it's the place you're happiest. And I'm leaving home.