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He took it off the wall hanger with reverence and sat on the nearby stool. For several minutes, he sat holding it, adoring its lines.
In a dream, he changed the strings. He carefully tuned it, thrilling to the tones reverberating through the room, through his soul. It sounded as it should, and it was more than he’d imagined. His fingers danced, the old rhythms waking from years before. All he’d learned was still there, though somewhat hesitant at first.
He played a song he knew, reveling in how glorious it sounded on the Martin. Truly, there had been few guitars more divine. He played the song again, a ballad his mother had sung to him when she’d put him to bed at night. He sang it, accompanying her memory, hearing their voices twining together as they’d never had the chance to do in life.
He effortlessly moved from one song to another, a stream of music flowing in a rushing river released from a dam. Matt saw nothing but the Martin, heard nothing but its gorgeous tone.
When he ran through the songs he could remember, he continued to sit, letting his fingers pick the notes. “Twaddling,” his music teacher had called it. He found a melody he liked and built on it.
It was a melancholy riff. It sounded lonely and frightened, as he’d been in the aftermath of the war, both on the rebel battlecruiser and afterward. He’d drifted from station to planet to moon to station, always hungry, always scared.
“Starved,” he whispered. “In heart and soul.”
He played and played, words coming and going, rearranging themselves to fit the song that moved from the early terrors to hope…and new fears, but also a sense of gratitude.
“Starved in heart and soul
No peace, no rest,
Never whole
Unkind fate’s guest
Then you rushed in
Snatched from doom’s hold
Long-lost god of men
Pulling me into the fold
The universe is black
An endless void of night
You, the star to guide me back
And warm me in love’s light.”
He was pleasantly surprised to hear how strong his baritone sounded. He hadn’t sung in years, but like playing, the training came rushing back as second nature. It was imperfect, and he’d have to resume vocal exercises to get up to speed. Considering how long it had been since he’d vocalized, he couldn’t complain.
“Say I can stay
I, unworthy soul
Say I may
With you, I’m whole.”
Movement at the corner of his eye brought him out of the fog he’d happily lost himself in. He blinked at Kom, Avir, and Masok, who stared open-mouthed from the doorway.
“Ancestors,” Masok breathed. “That was amazing. What’s the name of the song you were singing?”
Matt flushed, his shoulders hunching. “It isn’t an actual song. I was just messing around.”
Their jaws dropped lower. “Youmade it up? Off the top of your head?” Avir shook his head, as if to clear it. “Incredible.”
Masok pulled his handheld out of a belt pouch. “You play and sing better than most I’ve heard, and you compose your own material? Come here and let’s look at professional grade recording systems. And don’t forget what you were playing, because I want a copy to listen to.”
