I am Sargon, Captain of the Antares, whom the prophet at my birth named the Even-Star of the House of the Descending Falcon, and the rising Morning Star of his people. What a confusing name to give to a small child. Now that I am at the end of my days, I think I can finally decipher the contradiction. I was heralded as the hope of the Astari, my people. The soothsayer told my great-grandfather, the last hope. This was the reason for the name Even-star. But, it was not to be. I’m also the last heir to the throne of Istranavu, my world. The assassination of the Emperor and my banishment was apparently the death-knell of my people.
The Antares, my second home, will soon translate into the arms of Incal, the sun of my world. I have chosen death than have this ship used for their foul play, I will destroy the Antares. This is the end, the end of the joy and sorrows of a life I never in my wildest dreams could have envisioned. I was born two hundred years ago into the House of the Descending Falcon. My family was ancient even by the standards of my world. Both my parents were scientists. I think I inherited my inquisitiveness from them. Sirtis, my mother, was the granddaughter of the emperor which placed me high on the social and political ladder.
When a civilization becomes ancient, it has the tendency to look back to a golden age. Everything hoary acquires a golden glow as Sabrina would have said. But there, I’m getting ahead of myself, so, I’d better start at the beginning.
