Harry's Sacrifice

by Bianca D'Arc

  Cormac.

  Harry ended the kiss reluctantly, pulling back to see a delightfully dazed expression on Ro’s face, her eyes closed, her lips parted as if waiting for more. She was beautiful.

  Cormac’s hand tightened on Harry’s shoulder.

  Harry turned his head, ready to glare at the other man, but when he caught sight of Cormac’s face, the impulse died. Cormac looked confused and almost…yearning.

  “You Hum,” the soldier stated simply.

  “What?” Harry and Ro spoke in unison.

  “Do you not hear it?” Cormac replied to both.

  Ro’s head cocked to the side as if she was listening to something. Harry was shocked by the telltale Hum that signaled resonance. He hadn’t been paying attention, but now that Cormac had pointed it out, there it was under everything else, a pleasant little Hum. Great.

  “Is that what that is?” Ro’s expression was full of wonder as she turned to Harry. “Does this mean you are my mate?”

  Harry was shocked at the idea. “I believe there are a few more tests to be certain, but it is possible. Humming proves that we are compatible. Though I’d always assumed I’d have a human mate.” Harry stepped back, releasing Ro, his mind in conflict with his body. He didn’t want an Alvian female. Not for life. He wanted the warmth and understanding of a human. Someone like his adoptive mother and family. Not a cold Alvian.

  He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to think. He needed some space.

  Harry left the hold without explanation. Ro looked after him, confused by the riot of emotion crowding in her heart.

  “Why did he leave?”

  “He appeared confused.” She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until Cormac answered.

  “As am I.” Roshin turned to contemplate the tall warrior. She’d never been attracted to someone of warrior stock before, but Cormac was different. He had a keen mind she respected. She found herself intrigued by him, and as her emotions came online, she felt… She didn’t know what to call it. But when he walked into a room, her whole body perked up in anticipation of…something.

  It was very frustrating to suddenly feel things and have no names for them. She thought she recognized some things from dealing with her human Brethren, but until she had more experience with her own feelings, she’d still have to guess much of the time.

  Cormac was staring at her. It made her uncomfortable but flattered, which was an odd combination.

  “Why do you look at me, Cormac?” In the cozy confines of the ship, she had stopped using numbers. Among the Zxerah, numbers were used only for formal identification, not among friends.

  “You fascinate me.”

  Her heart rate sped at his words. “As an experiment?” She knew he was a scientist as well as a soldier.

  “No.” He moved closer, daring to touch her face with his open palm. “As a woman.” He held his palm there, and she realized he was listening.

  Faintly, she heard the echo of the Hum she’d discerned with Harry.

  “Do we…?” she whispered.

  “Hum?” he finished her question, moving his hand away. The faint sound died. “Possibly. But I suspect it takes real feeling to Hum. Harry has touched you before, but the sound was never there. Now that you have emotion, it has come to the fore.”

  “So you’ve formed a theory.” It wasn’t a question. Cormac was undoubtedly making notes on all that transpired on this ship.

  “I have. And there is only one way to test it that will satisfy me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wrapped skin patch she’d given him days before. With deliberate movements, he opened it and prepped the patch.

  He held her gaze as he lifted his shirt, displaying rippling abs that made her mouth water. He stuck the patch below his left pectoral muscle and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and stroke his hard body with her hands, but she dare not. He had not given her such privileges. She would not presume too much.

  “We’ll know in a day or two,” he said matter of factly as he lowered his shirt back into place.

  Roshin couldn’t help licking her lips. “I look forward to it.”

  Hara and Percival were improving physically as time passed. Every hour saw them get a little stronger. One day out of hibernation, they were able to stand for short periods that grew longer each time they tried it. The following day, they broke out special mechanical apparatuses that supported their legs—like robotic exoskeletons—that also allowed them to walk. All in all, their recovery was much faster than Harry had anticipated.

  By the end of the week, both ancients were able to walk unassisted by the exoskeletons, which went back into storage. The two stasis chambers had been converted to two small bedrooms where the ancients continued to spend their rest periods, monitored even in their sleep by the ship’s medical computer. The translucent walls had turned opaque and the pods had been replaced with real beds taken from somewhere within the storage areas of the ship. Harry and Cormac had moved into the two-man room, leaving the larger bedroom for Roshin’s comfort.

  Medically, it looked like the ancients were recovering at record pace. Percival was monitoring his leader’s progress as well as his own, and while they got back on their feet they had little to do with the younger generation, except at shared meal times.

  It was at dinner, in fact, that Harry learned of Cormac’s bold move in applying the skin patch. Hara was the first to mention it, though how the old bastard had figured it out, Harry didn’t know.

  “I understand you’ve decided to join the land of the living, Cormac.” Hara gestured with his fork as he spoke and continued to eat. The two ancient men were finally allowing themselves solid food, albeit soft, and gave every indication of enjoying it if their appetites were anything to go by.

  Cormac blinked in confusion as Harry watched. “I cannot fathom to what you are referring.”

  “The patch, man,” Percival put in between bites, chiding in his tone. “You put on the skin patch, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” Cormac answered, his gaze shooting to Ro’s in a way that made Harry’s fists clench. “Though I was unaware it was common knowledge. I only told Roshin of my intentions.”

  “She didn’t tell us, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Hara clarified. “But your behavior has modified enough that I could tell. I’m surprised Harry hasn’t noticed you emoting a bit more than usual.” Hara’s gaze surveyed Harry in a way that made him feel like a child failing some task a teacher put before him. It felt disapproving and Harry didn’t like it.

  “I try not to scan the emotions of those I am with,” Harry said in his own defense. “Among humans it’s hard not to pick up on strong, stray emotions. Among Alvians it’s almost impossible. I’ve learned to keep my empathy on a leash for my own good.”

  “Interesting.” Hara’s look changed from one of slight disappointment to one of faintly surprised approval. “I hadn’t expected that, though I guess I should have with the way most humans are probably feeling these days. It’s most likely painful to feel all that whenever you come into contact with one.”

  “Feel what?” Roshin asked in her quiet way, curiosity on her pretty features.

  “Pain, my dear. Sorrow. Grief. Despair. All that and more is what our people have wrought on this planet. It has touched all human life.” Hara paused significantly, his gaze hardening. “We did that.” He tightened his hand on his fork until Harry feared for the metal. “We have much to atone for.” The moment passed and Hara began eating once more. “Still, this is no time for politeness, Harry. You’ll have to drop your shields so you’re more aware of your surroundings. It could mean your life.” Hara’s gaze pinned him in place. “Our return will not go over well in some quarters. Those in power will wish to remain so, I believe. They won’t go quietly. Due to your association with us, and your involvement in bringing us back, you will no doubt be a target. All of you will.” Hara gestured to the others sitting around the table. “We must all be on our guard once we leave
the ship.”

  “And when will that be?” Cormac asked, a slight note of challenge in his voice.

  Now that Harry knew to look for it, he could feel tiny ripples of emotion from the other man. The tiny ripples turned to wavelets when Harry reached out his senses to check on Ro’s emotional state. She was farther along in the transformation. The crisis for her could come at any time now. Harry would have to be vigilant.

  “At least a week more. Perhaps a week and a half,” Percival answered. “We are making good progress. Faster than I expected, actually. We will begin an exercise regimen tomorrow. In fact, that we could use your help with.”

  “How can we serve?” Roshin asked obediently. She had demonstrated a marked willingness to do whatever the ancients asked of her in the past few days.

  “Sparring partners,” Hara was quick to say. “Our exercises will consist mostly of warrior training. I expect all three of you to join us in the hold midmorning.”

  “We’ll be there,” Ro answered for all three of them.

  Harry glanced at Cormac, and for once they were in unity. Harry could see as well as feel the other man’s skepticism at the idea of sparring with two ancients who’d just barely gotten out of their hoverchairs.

  It soon became clear that the two ancients had been hard at work doing rehabilitative exercises while they had been out of the younger group’s sight for long periods each day. Not only could Hara and Percival move around freely, but they were beginning to regain their flexibility, speed and stamina as well.

  Harry stood back and let the two old guys try their skills on Cormac first. The younger Alvian clearly had his doubts when he started lightly sparring with Percival while the rest of the group watched, but it quickly became apparent that Percival wasn’t pulling any punches. He even landed a few on Cormac’s thick skin that Harry knew were going to hurt later.

  Roshin watched the contest with interest, and Harry started to suspect there was more to being part of the Zxerah Brotherhood than just a secret handshake. Ro nodded almost imperceptibly each time Percival or Cormac executed a complex move. She didn’t seem truly impressed as much as she looked approving—as if given the chance, she may have chosen the same counterstrike or parry. The sense of approval came from her emotions as well.

  Bit by bit, she was beginning to emote more. Harry could read her much more easily now, and even Cormac was beginning to put out emotions in larger quantity and range. Harry kept his empathic senses wide open, as Hara had instructed. He was sensing things from the ancients as well, but only in unguarded moments. The two old guys were skilled in shielding their emotions in a way the younger Alvians completely lacked. It was a skill they’d have to develop if Roshin and Cormac wanted any privacy of thought or feeling among human empaths.

  Cormac and Percival had been trading blows for close to twenty minutes when Percival finally showed some signs of fatigue. Hara called a halt, acting as referee for the match, and smiled broadly at both combatants as they retired from the matted area. Hara’s sparkling blue eyes then turned to Harry expectantly.

  But he wasn’t looking at Harry.

  Harry stood up straight from where he’d been leaning against the wall with Ro when Hara extended a hand…to Roshin.

  “Now hold on a minute here—” Harry sent the indignant thought directly to Hara’s mind.

  “Peace, little brother. You’ll get your turn. Watch and learn. I will warm up with Roshin’s help, then you and I will test each other’s mettle.”

  Harry didn’t like the sound of that, but Roshin moved onto the mats, stood opposite Hara and took up a ready position. The giant warrior was so much more massive than petite Ro. Even if she was tall compared to human women, she was as wispy as a breeze, and Harry feared for her safety facing off against the aptly nicknamed big man.

  “You take it easy on her, Hara, or ancestor or not, I’ll break your nose.”

  “Calm yourself, son. You’ll soon see that I’m in more danger than she is.”

  Harry didn’t like it, and from the wave of emotion coming off Cormac—the strongest Harry had sensed from him yet—neither did Cormac.

  “What is he doing?” Cormac stood next to Harry, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel.

  “He claims he’s in more danger than she is,” Harry replied in low voice. “If he hurts her—”

  “I’ll kill him myself.” Cormac’s threat was filled with menace, and Harry had to take a step back. The force of the other man’s emotion was unexpected and brutal.

  “Whoa there, buddy.” Harry put a restraining hand on Cormac’s forearm and the emotions Harry read intensified. “Put a cork in it. You’re going to have to learn to handle your rage if you want to live among civilized folk. Damn, you soldiers have short fuses.”

  Cormac’s eyes never left Roshin and Hara, now beginning to dance around each other with feints and jabs that never quite connected. They were feeling each other out, trying to discover the best point of attack. It was something Harry had seen, and done, many times before while training in the warrior’s arts, but he’d never expected to see Roshin move so expertly.

  “Watch, Cormac. See what she’s doing?” he asked in a low voice, barely able to believe it himself. Ro’s sinuous movements were drawing the ancient in, setting the stage for a masterful trap.

  Cormac stilled at Harry’s side, watching. Ro’s movements were nimble and delicate but very effective. Her fighting style—for that’s what it was—was unlike anything Harry had seen before. It was perfectly suited to her sylph-like figure. She wove in and out of patterns with a delicate ease that told him she’d studied this form for many, many years. Probably her entire life if she’d grown up among the Alvian equivalent of ninjas.

  “This is an ancient form,” Cormac said, catching Harry’s attention. “I have seen this in holos, but never in person. There are few warrior women bred in each generation and these skills have been lost.”

  Harry extended his empathic sense to focus on Ro as she executed a particularly intricate move that sucked Hara in and put him in exactly the position she wished. He felt her triumph at perfect execution and her dismay when Hara somehow got out of the line of fire of the finishing blow she had planned.

  As skillful as Roshin was, Hara was even more so. It was then Harry understood. Hara was showcasing Ro’s skills. He was testing her and teaching Harry and Cormac a lesson about humility and expectations at the same time. Hara knew the counter to every one of Ro’s moves and used them all with great skill and dexterity.

  Hara was letting Roshin guide him around the field of combat but was evading her final victory time and time again until her frustration rose to a level that interfered with her ability to execute her patterns. At that point, Hara called a halt and Harry was glad.

  He’d definitely learned something here today. Not only was Roshin every bit the Zxerah she claimed, but Hara was even better than her best. Hara raised one eyebrow at Harry, grinning. The old bastard knew exactly what Harry was thinking, and it didn’t take a mind reader to figure it out. Harry had been wrong about Ro. Wrong about Hara. Wrong about many things. And Hara knew it.

  The ancient crooked a finger toward Harry and he moved forward grudgingly. It was his turn to face the ancient warrior on the mats. Harry feared there would be no way to win against such a crafty—some might say devious—opponent, but he’d give it his best shot.

  What followed was a lesson in humility for Harry. He’d always prided himself on being more skilled at hand-to-hand combat than most—thanks to both his uncle Justin’s early martial arts training and the physical fitness classes he’d excelled at with his other Alvian year mates. Of course, it was Uncle Justin who’d taught him all the really down and dirty tricks.

  Justin had been a Special Forces soldier in the old world, and he’d taught Harry and the other O’Hara kids everything he knew. Harry pulled out all those old lessons as he paired off against Hara. The ancient used a different style against Harry than he had against Roshi
n, which almost threw Harry off his game completely, but he compensated in time to save his pride. Being knocked on his ass within the first minute would have been utterly embarrassing.

  As it was, Harry had a hard time staying upright against Hara’s rolling, energetic waves of attack. Harry barely had a chance to go on the offensive at all. Mostly he was kept on the defensive, blocking and trying to parry, doing his best just to stay on his feet.

  Hara got in a few good licks, but nothing Harry couldn’t handle until Hara jabbed at Harry’s solar plexus and he doubled over. A sharp stab of emotion from Roshin caught Harry unaware, and instead of recovering from the tap he’d experienced many times as he learned to fight, he zigged when he should have zagged. Hara’s follow-up move sent Harry sprawling in an undignified heap at the far corner of the mats.

  To add insult to injury, Harry was gasping for air. The ancient had caught him at just the right place to knock the wind out of him. Harry could feel the bruises beginning to form.

  One thing was for certain—Hara hadn’t been taking it easy on Harry. Not in the slightest. The other thing Harry had learned was not to underestimate the crafty old bugger.

  A large hand appeared before Harry’s eyes. Harry’s gaze followed it upward to meet Hara’s blue eyes—so similar to his own.

  “Sorry, kid.”

  Harry took the hand and the offer of a boost up from the floor with calm good will. He’d learned to be wary of the ancient, but he’d also gained a new respect for the man who was his many-times-removed ancestor. Hara was a crafty and skilled warrior. Right up there with the best Harry had ever met.

  “Are you okay?” Hara asked with good-natured humor in his dancing blue eyes. The old bastard knew damn well what had distracted Harry enough to have caused his injury.

  “Fine,” Harry gasped, his breath returning.

  “You let a pretty girl distract you, son. That’s what I believe you humans call a rookie mistake.”

  “I’m only half human,” Harry corrected, unwilling to comment on the first part of the old busybody’s statement.