Isle of Broken Years

by Jane Fletcher

  “I’ll be off then. Good night.”

  “Good night. And thanks for your help.”

  Sam grinned. “My life depends on this net. I’ll be closest to the Minotaur. I wanted to make sure you did it right.”

  Outside, dusk was sweeping over the world. The last bands of pink were fading on the horizon. Blue dots sparkled over the pathways, providing just enough light to guide her way. The buildings glowed like honey in the up-lights. Sam breathed in the scent of the unearthly flowers. Atlantis no longer felt so strange to her, so alien.

  In a few days, if all went well, she would be leaving, and the island would be on the bottom of the ocean. And if it did not go well, she would be dead. Either way, her time in Atlantis was coming to an end. She would need to make a new home, either in the world of 2025, or in the hereafter. How would she get on with angels? Sam entertained herself with ideas of joining Torvold, drinking and singing in Valhalla.

  She was approaching her room in the Squat when somebody hurtled out of the dark and collided with her—on her left side, as luck would have it. Sam could not bite back a yelp of pain.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” It was Catalina. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  Sam straightened up. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. I should take a look at your shoulder. I’ve got the things from the clinic in my room, but—” She broke off, pressing a hand against her forehead. “I’m just so angry.”

  No news there. “Yes, I’m really sorry too. I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, not with you.” Catalina sounded on edge, distracted. Her arm dropped. “I had an idea, the clinic gave the medicine for you. I tried asking about Liz—her cancer. The machine said…” She drew a deep breath. “It said she wasn’t worth saving. She should be disposed of. As if she were a broken toy. It wasn’t that it couldn’t help her. It wouldn’t make the attempt. I’ve spent two hours fighting with the controls, and I got nowhere. In the end I kicked the front.” She gave a humorless laugh. “The evil thing diagnosed a bruised toe and gave me more of the pain spray, without even being asked.”

  “The aliens didn’t value human lives. We knew that.”

  “Yes. But I’d had a flash of hope and then I was angry. Which was why I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” She wiped a hand across her eyes.

  Catalina was clearly upset. Sam thought about putting an arm around her, but that was probably not a good idea, even though Catalina had just claimed not to be angry with her. Apart from how the gesture might be received, the fire in Sam’s shoulder had cranked up a notch.

  “It’s all right. I wasn’t watching out either.”

  “I haven’t been stabbed. I should look at your shoulder for you. That’s if you don’t mind.” Catalina ended on a tentative note.

  “No. I was going to ask someone. The cut has stiffened up. I was on the net, working, and since you’ve got the stuff, it’s um…yes.” It would give them the chance to talk, as long as she could string together a complete sentence.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Catalina pointed to the bed. “If you could sit there and take your shirt off.”

  This was going to be awkward. Maybe she should have thought it through first. Catalina busied herself, digging for the medical supplies in her locker while she pulled her thoughts together. They could do with a chaperone to reassure Sam and avoid misunderstandings, but it was too late now. On the other hand, Sam had agreed to come. Maybe they could become friends after all.

  When she turned round, Sam was sitting cross-legged on the bed, with her head down. Catalina got up behind her.

  “I need to remove the old dressing.” She teased the sticky strips off as gently as she could, although Sam still gasped. “Sorry. Did that hurt?”

  “No.” Sam’s voice sounded strained. “How does it look?”

  “Not too bad. A little inflamed maybe. No infection.”

  Sam kept her head down, staring at her ankles while Catalina worked. The trick was to concentrate on the task and not to be distracted by the urge to run her hands over Sam’s back. In a short while, the job was finished.

  “There. All done. You can go.”

  Sam did not move. “Catalina?”

  “Yes?”

  “The night before last, when we kissed—”

  Catalina’s stomach contracted. “Yes. I know. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?”

  “It was wrong of me.”

  “Why?” Sam twisted around.

  “I gave in to an impulse. I admit, I’d been thinking about you. But I shouldn’t have…”

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t something you wanted to do. You ran away.”

  “I ran away because…” Sam shook her head. “It wasn’t because I didn’t want to kiss you.”

  “Then why?”

  Sam looked as if she was trying to say four different things at once, without making a sound. Then her face cleared. She leaned forward and pulled Catalina into her arms. Their lips met in a long, soft kiss. It did not make sense, but Catalina did not care. She felt strangely light-headed. She sank back onto the bed, drawing Sam down with her. She needed to hold Sam, to kiss her, and feel their bodies pressed together.

  Sam pulled away and stared into her eyes. “Do you…”

  “What?”

  “It’s just, I’m not sure, and I don’t know what you, or why…”

  “Do you have a question in there?”

  Sam looked uncomfortable. “What do you want from me?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never kissed anyone else.”

  “Nor have I.”

  “You said you’d had women as lovers.”

  “No. I said I wanted to. Doesn’t mean I ever had a chance to do anything about it. So I’m not experienced, or anything.” Sam swallowed visibly.

  Catalina laughed. “It probably doesn’t help if I said I’ve read some books.”

  “Books!”

  “My parents would have been horrified if they knew all the things ancient writers committed to paper. But they didn’t know Greek, to censor what I was reading.”

  “What did the books say?”

  “They were mainly written to excite male readers.” With hindsight, Catalina realized maybe she had found them just a little more interesting than was normal for a demure Spanish noblewoman.

  “Like whores outside brothels. Two of them will put on a show to lure in customers.”

  “You weren’t tempted?”

  Sam shook her head. “It always seemed cheap and false. And there’s nothing false about how I feel right now, but if you’re just playing…”

  “No. I’m not playing games.” Catalina ran her hand though Sam’s hair.

  Which left the question of what she wanted. They could kiss a while, then Sam could leave, and they could exchange burning looks, the way tortured lovers did in ballads. The minstrels would draw the tension out for twenty verses or more. Then, like as not, it would end in tragedy as one, or both, died. Death or marriage—they were the only options. It did not bode well. There was no church in Atlantis, and death was all too likely. Nor did they have months, or however long twenty verses might take in real life.

  So what did she want?

  “I’m sure we can work things out.” Catalina ran her hand under Sam’s shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin.

  Sam went to touch her face but stopped. “I’ve been sweating and my hands are filthy from the Barn.”

  “You should shower.”

  Sam sat up. “All right. Do you want me to come back here afterward?”

  Catalina was suddenly quite sure what she wanted. “No. I want you to shower here.”

  Without giving herself time to change her mind, Catalina rolled off the bed, grabbed Sam’s hand, and pulled her into the washroom. She slipped her hands under Sam’s waistband, eased it over her hips, and let the shorts drop to the floor.

  “You’re not going to wait for me next door?”
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  “No.”

  Catalina tugged her own clothes off, bundled them all together, and dropped them in the laundry bin. She hit the water button.

  “Normally, I might have wanted you to woo me for a few months, and then ask my father for my hand in marriage, but we don’t have months, we can’t go to see my father, and he’d say no anyway.” Catalina laughed. The idea was actually quite funny.

  She drew Sam close and turned her face up for another kiss. The water streamed over their heads, getting in the corners of Catalina’s mouth. It rolled down her shoulders and formed a pool in the hollow where their breasts were pressed together. Hot showers had always been sensual, but this was an entirely different experience. Sam’s hands ran up her sides, over her arms, through her hair. The touch sent tingling waves through her.

  Sam broke from the kiss. “Are you sure you’ve not done this before?”

  “Yes. I’d have remembered.”

  Catalina wrapped her arms around Sam, flattening her palms on the hardness of Sam’s shoulder blades. The washproof dressing was, fortunately, living up to its name. She slid her hands down Sam’s back, examining each bone, each muscle. Sam’s skin was hot and slick with the running water. Catalina broke away from Sam’s mouth and nuzzled her neck, licking and nipping. Sam gave a whimper.

  “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “No. But I don’t know how much longer I can stay standing. My knees are…”

  Catalina’s own knees were not as firm as normal, but she was not ready to leave the shower yet. A compulsion was building inside her, a need to be touched, an ache that could not be denied or made to wait.

  Catalina turned, so Sam was braced in the corner, then caught hold of Sam’s wrist and brought her hand down to where it had to be. The shock coursed through her. Catalina gasped and fell forward, clinging on to Sam to stay upright.

  “Please, I want you to…”

  There was no need for Catalina to say more. Sam’s lips brushed her forehead, even as Sam’s fingers moved, exploring, pressing her legs slightly apart to allow better access. Sam’s fingers sent waves of pleasure through her, both relieving and increasing the need. Catalina buried her face in Sam’s neck.

  The waves built inside Catalina, carrying her ever higher, until she hit the top of the crest. Her body shook in time to the pulses, radiating from the touch of Sam’s hand. Without the support of Sam’s free arm, she would have fallen.

  Catalina gasped, taking mouthfuls of air. Then she breathed in water and started to cough and laugh at the same time.

  “I need to lie down. Do you think we’re clean enough?”

  Sam’s face held a mixture of tenderness, desire, and wonder. Without answering, she hit the button for the dryer.

  Back on the bed, Catalina raised herself on one elbow. She looked the length of Sam’s body, considering every inch of skin, and finished, staring into Sam’s eyes. “Are you tired?”

  “Not really.”

  Catalina smiled. “Good. Because I’ve no intention of letting you go to sleep yet.”

  * * *

  Catalina woke slowly. She felt warm, comfy, and very safe—ridiculously so, all things considered. What time was it?

  Beside her, Sam gave a half snore and rolled onto her back. Catalina turned so she could lay her head on Sam’s good shoulder. Their bodies molded together. A wave of peace and joy flowed through Catalina from her head all the way down to her toes, banishing all anxieties. She had not known it was possible to be so happy. No matter how the day turned out, this was a time to treasure. She lifted her head so she could study Sam’s sleeping face.

  Her parents had put so much effort into planning Catalina’s life, her education, introducing her to the right people at court, selecting a husband—no less than three times. Her parents had been fond of her. Could she put it more forcefully than that? Her two brothers had always been more important to them. While a good marriage for Catalina could further the family fortune, it was her brothers who would carry on the family name.

  For the Valasco family, Catalina had been a temporary fixture, a political pawn, a commodity in the marriage market. As a child, she had spent more time with her nanny than she had with her mother. When she boarded the Santa Eulalia de Merida, there had been little expectation she would see her parents or family home again. She had shed tears on the dock, more because it was expected than from true grief.

  Her parents might have wanted what was best for her, but it came second to what was best for the family. Not that they would have abandoned her to a life of hardship and misery. Had everything gone to plan, Catalina would never had been hungry, or alone, or without shelter or a protector. But would she ever have known a moment of happiness as great as what she felt now, looking at Sam’s face?

  Sam opened an eye. “What are you thinking, Cat?”

  “That—”

  There was a rap on the door. “Okay, you two lovebirds. Time to roll.” Madison’s voice.

  “That no matter how today goes, these last three days have been the best of my life.”

  Sam pulled her down for a gentle kiss. “Same here.”

  * * *

  The door whooshed open, revealing the large circular room beyond. Cautiously, Catalina stepped inside and paused, listening. The room was familiar from the monitor screens, but now that she was standing there, it was both larger and colder than expected. A chilling draft blew from vents in the ceiling, high overhead.

  Directly opposite the entrance was an arched opening, leading to the control room, and the Minotaur. Then, faintly, Catalina heard it, the thump, thump of heavy footsteps, echoing down the hallway. She swallowed and stepped aside, allowing the other castaways to follow her in.

  Wordlessly, they moved around the edge, except for Yaraha and Torvold, who carried the net into the middle. While they laid it out, Catalina considered the people she had come to know and care about.

  Floyd and Madison had taken positions on either side of the room. Both looked calm, preoccupied, as they checked their rifles and ammunition. Ricardo was leaning against the wall, his eyes on the ceiling and his lips moving. At the end of his silent prayer, he made the sign of the cross with his free hand. In the other, he held one of the drone controllers, as did Liz.

  A familiar, wry smile was on Liz’s lips. Madison said she spent last night on the roof, at the spot where Gerard’s remains had been found. Catalina’s eyes blurred. The last three days had been spent with Sam, whenever she had free time. Too late now to wish she had spoken more with Liz, because however the battle went, they would never again get the chance to sit and pass the hours in friendly conversation.

  Blinking rapidly, Catalina dropped her eyes to the drone controller in her own hands. She could not afford to let her concentration lapse. The four pilots would mark out the corners of a square, matching the drone they controlled. The alignment was not necessary, but practice had shown it easier to envision where the drone they piloted was in relation to the others.

  A pair of feet appeared in Catalina’s field of view. She looked up. Sam stood in front of her smiling and mouthing some words. Were they, “I love you”? Before Catalina could reply, Sam kissed her own fingertips, pressed them to Catalina’s lips, then turned away and joined Horatio, a few steps into the room.

  The laying out of the net was complete. Yaraha took up position and signaled to the other pilots. Catalina pressed the power button on her controller and placed her thumbs on the flight levers. The drones rose slowly to the ceiling, lifting the net. Sam’s and Horatio’s plasma blades shimmered into life. Catalina heard twin clicks from the setting of the safety catches on the FALs.

  Torvold stood alone in the middle of the room. Floyd gave him a thumbs-up signal and whispered, “Over to you, buddy.” The first words spoken aloud since the castaways entered.

  Torvold swung his axe in a flamboyant figure of eight, then stalked toward the Minotaur’s lair. He planted his feet at the entrance to the hallway.

  Catal
ina felt her stomach turn to ice. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. She could feel her legs shaking. She saw Torvold suck in a deep breath, and then his voice boomed out. Catalina did not understand a word, but it had to be something unflattering in Norse. Everyone froze, waiting.

  Torvold was drawing another breath when a savage roar erupted, a primal scream of rage, reverberating from the hallway. He shouted again, this time in English. “And the same goes twice for your mother.” He swung his axe again. For a moment, Catalina thought he was about to tackle the Minotaur single-handed, ignoring their plans, but then he turned and ran back to the middle of the room.

  The monster burst from the hallway. It was bigger and much, much quicker than Catalina had expected. Its movements put her in mind of a large ape that a troupe of entertainers had brought to the king’s court in Spain, bowlegged, but powerful. It charged, bearing down on Torvold, ignoring all else. Maybe it had not noticed the other people. Maybe it was too angry to care. Torvold took a step backward.

  The explosive crack of a rifle rang out. The Minotaur flinched and broke from its headlong charge. Its head jerked in Madison’s direction. Then a second shot resounded as Floyd fired from the other side. The Minotaur threw its head back and roared a challenge, brandishing all four axes.

  Torvold stood his ground, swinging his axe, demanding the monster’s attention. “Come on then, you great big booby.”

  The Minotaur advanced, but slowly this time, step by step.

  Catalina looked up. Already the drones controlled by Yaraha and Liz were descending. She swiveled the levers under her thumbs, bringing her corner of the net down on the Minotaur. Gently, the cords settled on the Minotaur’s head, snagging on its curved horns. Surely the monster must have noticed, yet it paid no more attention than if cobwebs were falling from the roof.

  Was this going to work? Catalina thumbed the control lever, and her drone dropped to waist height. This drew the first reaction. The Minotaur snarled and struck out with an axe, as if to sweep the net away. The end of the shaft caught in a loop, wrenching the axe to a stop, mid-swing.