by Reagan Woods
“I’m exhausted,” he answered tersely.
Sympathy played across her delicate features. “Did you discover anything about the bodies? I mean, were they plague victims or something?”
“No. The regen bed couldn’t determine cause of death. I burnt them anyway to ensure the safety of anyone else who might come along. If it was a communicable disease, you and I were probably already exposed.”
“Well, that’s a happy thought,” she turned her lips down in a scowl.
Gesturing impatiently with one hand he prodded, “What did you find?”
“You’re going to be disappointed,” she warned, crooking a finger as she turned to guide him back to the cubicle. Inside, she had multiple hover screens set up to display feed from eyes and ears all over the small camp. “I reviewed the cached data and it looks like there are a few weeks playing on a loop as far as internal camp feed goes. I would guess that is what is being transmitted to the CGA’s central repository. Whoever is charged with monitoring that should probably be fired.”
“Agreed,” Silex grunted. The news that the camp wasn’t being monitored wasn’t unexpected.
“I think it’s interesting that they didn’t bother turning off the external cameras though,” she continued, swiping across the display to zoom in on their two figures approaching the camp the previous evening.
“They knew we were coming.”
“Actually,” she paused as she adjusted something on the screen. “I’m not sure they knew we were here until the electrical field went down. It’s just a feeling I get, but I don’t think this was a team of great tactical minds.”
Silex rolled his neck, the releasing tension sounding an audible crack. “You’re probably right,” he ceded. “Did you have any luck uncovering the past footage?”
“Yes and no,” she replied, hands flying as she cued the footage she wanted. “I think the two weeks of footage they’ve run in the loop are…it.”
“What do you mean?” The still-healing injuries and lack of sleep were clearly slowing his mental abilities. He couldn’t grasp what she was saying.
“I’ve buzzed through it all again and again.” She pointed at the hovering screen, adjusting it so he could see it as an aerial time lapse. “I think this footage is from a year-and-a-half ago when the CGA first came to Earth. That -.” She slowed the shot down and enlarged the picture of a small, dark-haired female. “Is my Margot.” Silex couldn’t make out distinct features, but he decided to hold off on calling Francesca’s pronouncement into question.
She sped through the footage to the very last of it. “And I think everyone went to bed one night.” She narrated as the camp on-screen did just that, Earthers scurrying toward the dorms, Warriors patrolling and several Doranos walking from the building they were in toward their own accommodations. “And something happens…here.” The feed shook hard and bleached white – several surveillance orbs failing simultaneously. “I don’t know if it was a bomb or a missile or what, but after that, only a handful of cameras come back. There is no perceptible movement at ground level, but the sun does appear to start to rise toward the end. Basically, the cameras are on for a few hours and then the loop starts again.”
“That’s…good work on your part,” Silex tried for encouraging.
She re-cued the feed and magnified the Margot-dot once more, studying the image contemplatively. Finally, she turned to him and put a cool hand on his forearm. “Si, I don’t want you to sugar coat this for me; what happened here?”
He considered lying. She’d had an emotional few days, and he wished to spare her more pain. But they were just starting to trust one another and that was more important than a momentary reprieve from recriminations and tears.
“Given the looped feed, I’d say the twelve Doranos we killed either murdered everyone in their sleep or were complicit in the coverup of a mass murder.”
Her eyes were dry when he chanced a look at her. She met his stare with a calm one of her own and nodded. “That’s what I thought.” She turned back to the frozen image of her sister. Her fingers slid across the hovering display as she gently touched the image. “I wish I’d been able to do more to protect her. I would have gladly given my life for hers.”
She was eerily calm and that made her sadness all the more heartrending to witness. Silex wasn’t accustomed to thinking of the Earthers as noble or self-sacrificing, but Francesca’s love for her sister made him rethink that evaluation.
“I need a round in the sonishower,” he finally said, unable to help in her silent grieving. “A lot of them.”
“Yeah,” she agreed softly, tearing her eyes from the screen with difficulty. “Me, too. Lead the way.” Even as she turned to follow, her hand trailed the spill of dark hair on the hover screen, reluctant to leave the last evidence of her sister’s existence.
Chapter 27
Fran stood under the heated purple light of the sonishower in the Doranos living quarters. These booths were positively luxurious compared to the stingy stalls they’d had back in the Texas camp. The large, opaque cylinders emitted sonic waves from all sides simultaneously. In addition, there were an array of light therapy settings for conditioning the hair and skin and she was taking full advantage of the upgrades – not because she deserved them. No. Fran needed to buy herself some space, some time, to think.
She and Silex chose not to use the Warriors’ Barracks for their sonishowers. Neither could understand how a small corps of civilian Doranos could take out a whole garrison of Warriors. Until they knew how it was done, they decided to stay clear of any area that might carry residual poison. Paranoia had saved her life more than once.
Exiting the tall tube, she pulled her freshly laundered clothes on and abruptly sat.
Silex was in the next room over from the one she occupied. He was in the Doranos Warden, Neerum’s, luxurious quarters. He explained that he wanted to search Neerum’s apartment for clues as to what might have happened. Now that they knew the camp was empty of people, it was safe for her to be alone. However, being stuck with her own thoughts had definite draw backs.
She’d briefly – and unwisely - pinned her hopes for locating her sister on the security feed, and although she’d found footage of her, everything indicated GoGo was gone. If Fran’s estimates were correct, GoGo had been dead for more than a year now. That was unfathomable.
Fran couldn’t put it into words, but Margot didn’t feel dead. Of course, she knew this was denial. Still, it felt as if Fran might open a previously overlooked door at any moment and Margot would waltz out asking Fran what had taken her so long to find her.
Because of her job, Fran was accustomed to living inside her own head, keeping her own counsel, and acting when the time was right. Sitting in the empty quarters of a dead Doranos, for the first time in her life Fran couldn’t formulate a plan of action.
Her empty stomach clenched and churned. She hadn’t felt terror like this…ever. While waiting to see if she’d live or die as Silex tried to reach her on the crumbling cliffside she’d felt more secure, more at peace, than she did right now. All she could feel at this moment was a vast and hollow emptiness. And she was about to fall into it.
There was a perfunctory knock and the door, and it slid back to reveal a cleaner, if still exhausted-looking, Silex. She noticed he was barefoot, carrying his black boots in one hand, and his pack in the other. His black uniform, like her black camp scrubs, had been laundered. The cloying sweetness of decay that had clung to him was gone, and even the goggles he’d pushed up to rest on his head sparkled.
“You need to eat,” he rumbled softly, his approach slow and measured as he lowered his big body creakily to the floor next to her.
“You should have sat on the bed – er – sleep surface,” she pointed out. “It would have been more comfortable.”
He pulled a ration bar out of his pack and broke it in half, putting part in her hand and nudging it toward her mouth. Because it was there, she took a bite, chewing automaticall
y.
Silex unhooked the canteen from the pack on the floor at her feet and shook it. Finding it empty, he dug up his own and pressed it on her. “Drink.”
Fran searched deep and found the energy to glower. There was no rational cause to start a fight, but she wasn’t feeling very rational. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped.
“There she is.” A momentary trace of humor lightened the lines of stress on his marked face. “I was starting to worry.”
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
Calmly, he nodded. “I do know. However, you haven’t slept in two days, you were engaged in a fire fight, and you handled the aftermath of a mass murder.”
When she started to argue that he had also been through these things, he held up one large hand and continued, “On a more prosaic front, you regurgitated the last thing you ate, and I haven’t seen you drink anything since we arrived. Let us not bicker tonight.”
Fran wanted to argue, and it must’ve been clear to the hard-headed Silex because he plowed on, “This is in addition the fact you’ve absorbed a crippling emotional blow. Perhaps you might allow me the small comfort of seeing to your basic needs in light of all these things?”
She opened her mouth, testing to see if he’d cut her off again. When he didn’t, she smirked. Or it was meant as a smirk. Instead, her face crumbled, and she gasped into her clenched fists. Harsh sobs wracked her body as tears and snot tracked down her face. Her hope was incinerated, and she had nothing. No direction. Nothing to live for. And her heartache would not be denied.
Silex didn’t look away from her grief, nor did he attempt to quiet her. There was no patting or coddling from her alien companion. He neither beseeched her to subside nor babbled platitudes; instead, he sat beside her stoically and bore witness to her sorrow.
Time took on the fluidity that only happens when one is awash in grief. Fran had no idea how long she wailed, but it seemed like her pain was an endless sea and she would birth it one tear at a time. Finally, she turned to him, eyes blinded and arms outstretched as she sought a life line to cling to.
Without hesitation, Silex pulled her into his strong embrace and settled her in his lap. Pressing her head to his chest, he rocked her gently. Still, he didn’t offer comments or advice – just basic comfort. And she took it greedily.
All the months and years of denying herself close friendships, of travelling and bargaining for secrets had finally overtaken her. Once the dam broke, there was no holding back the swell of emotion. Everything she’d done, all the regrets she’d forced herself not to acknowledge, all the self-recriminations she’d swallowed, swamped her. Somehow, it would have all been worth it if Margot had been here, waiting for her older, more world-wise sister to rescue her.
She hiccoughed, slowly surfacing. An insistent voice inside her head tried to tell her she should be embarrassed by her display of emotion. She couldn’t find the energy to care.
A crooked finger lifted her chin and Silex’s silvery eyes met hers. His expression was blank as he used his sleeve to mop the tears and snot from her face. Vaguely, she realized she should probably apologize, but he didn’t seem to expect it.
With her in his arms, he pushed to his feet, putting that stupid strength on casual display again, and settled with her on the large sleep surface.
“Lights off,” he commanded, pulling the coverlet securely around her. His body wrapped around hers, and he pillowed her head on his shoulder. With a comforting squeeze, he encouraged, “Sleep if you can.”
Surprisingly, she did.
Chapter 28
Francesca snored lightly beside him. The light cycle for this room was set at an obnoxiously early hour. He hadn’t wanted to disturb her by commanding it off with his voice when it brightened enough to wake him, so he’d draped the blanket over her head.
Camp Two still had many secrets, and he needed to uncover them. However, he wasn’t comfortable leaving her alone.
Silex hadn’t wanted to admit there were emotional threads tying him to Francesca. Watching her break the previous evening had eradicated all vestiges of denial.
This female with her calculating actions and cold eyes had more depth and loyalty than he’d suspected. After witnessing the lengths to which she would go for someone she loved, Silex had to admit he was moved. This past year, they’d played a game for power, for dominance between them and missed out on the better qualities each of them possessed.
He hadn’t wanted to admit that he was jealous of the way she distributed her affections, so he’d goaded her into fights. Instead of acknowledging that he wanted to protect her from Dorit, he’d tried to force her into crawling to him for information. All the while, he’d resented the powerful lust she inspired. He’d coveted her – and wanted her to be only his, but he’d never bothered to unearth Francesca’s wants and needs. It wasn’t lost on him that he’d left his family and Dendara because she had treated him similarly.
If Francesca had trusted him with her secrets, maybe things would be different. He’d given her nothing to trust though, openly intimidating his ‘competition’ – or her sources – into staying away from her. It had been a kind of game to him.
He punished her for being desirable and for being an alien, but most of all, he punished her for being female. In his mind, he’d equated Francesca’s machinations with those of the manipulative Dendara, and he’d treated Francesca accordingly.
To rid himself of Dendara, he’d walked away from his birthright and his family. No matter how many missions he went on or how much time he spent on-ship, he’d never been able to shake his need to return to Francesca, to talk to her, to fight with her, to kiss her and be near her. Truth, he loved watching her sneak and plot as much as he took dark joy in crushing her plans.
While she wasn’t without fault, he’d been the one in the power position for most of their relationship. He could have handled the attraction that raged between them differently. He’d had the option of treating her like an equal – or less inferior. Instead, he’d opted to stand on the side of the pool of lust that constantly sprang up around them and try to lure her deeper while risking none of himself. He’d wanted her to pant after him and worship his superiority rather than trying to forge a real connection between them. Just like Corian society expected him to do for Dendara.
And now it was too late. The game had turned deadly serious and they’d both lost this round. Her sister was dead and his sense of purpose, his pride as a member of General Darvan’s Armada, had cracked irreparably.
He’d dedicated his whole being to his position within the Warriors and his place on Vank’s Track Team One. The camaraderie and sense of worth he got from being at the forefront of the CORANOS Galactic Alliance’s invasion force, had broken when he’d seen what had been done to his brother Warriors yesterday.
The families of those fallen Warriors had no inkling what had become of them. That bothered Silex greatly. He’d had plenty of time to consider the possibilities as he’d dealt with the bodies of the fallen yesterday. It was his belief that no one had dared to investigate because General Darvan, the Crown Prince of the Corian Galaxy and fiercest Warrior ever to command an invasion force, didn’t want to upset the balance of power in the High Council. By all accounts, Darvan was cooperating fully with the CGA High Council’s edict by allowing the civilian liaisons, mostly comprised of Doranos nobility, free run of the Earth Camps.
Good males had lost their lives because the powerful were consumed with position instead of guiding the CGA.
“Is it morning already?” Francesca’s hoarse groan interrupted his musings.
Fathomless brown eyes, so glossy and different, peeked up at him from beneath silky lashes. Tentatively, he tucked a strand of sleek hair behind her ear. “How do you feel this morning?”
Her eyes flitted away, the drowsy flush draining from her cheeks. “Other than a hangover from my crying jag, I’m fine.”
She made to push away, but he grasped her forearm.
“I have something I need to say.”
Squinting up at him, she subsided back to the sleep surface as she raked her fingers through her disordered hair. “What?”
He grabbed her busy hand and pulled it flat against his chest, right over his heart, holding it there so she could gauge his sincerity. “I want to apologize for the way I treated you in the Texas Camp.” Silex met her surprised gaze directly. “I have issues with a certain type of female, and I let that influence me. If I hadn’t been so intent on rattling you, we might have had a chance to save your sister - and all those other people.”
Fran was silent for several moments, her thumb stroking softly over the material of his shirt as she absorbed his words. Finally, she spoke, “I accept your apology. But I don’t think my behavior was any better than yours. The sneaking around and, well, the bargaining I did…let’s just say that wasn’t me at my best. Maybe I should have trusted you, I don’t know. But we can’t go back.”
She licked her pink lips and continued, “So, I’m sorry, too.”
Silex couldn’t stop his eyes from widening with shock. “I didn’t expect an apology, Francesca. Especially after finding out what you were really doing.”
“Well, after being hunted and jailed by a bunch of aggressive male aliens, I didn’t exactly expect an apology from you, either,” she rebutted wryly. “If you can try to be better, so can I.”
He chuckled at her words. “I never considered it from that perspective, but I will do my best.”
Because he counted so many good Warriors as friends and brothers, Silex would see his mission through. But he had a choice to make where Francesca was concerned; he either needed to let her go or enlist her help. If it were up to him, she would stay here with him until his task was completed and move to the next camp with him. That was the rub though. It wasn’t up to him. If she stayed at his side, it had to be her choice and her choice alone.
She might well choose to go back to her cave, to seek out Tom or any other wild scenario. He might bluff that he would hunt her down, but he had no illusions that she could disappear if she were so inclined.