by MK Clark
“My father is Major General O’Hara.”
Without a word, a black-covered arm reached out and took his hand. Don felt a sharp prick in his pointer finger. He studied his captor and realized it was a boy only a few years older than Don himself, a Suit. The boy was looking down at something in his hand, and a minute later stood abruptly. The Suit stared down at Don in amazement.
The boy finally looked away and called, “Lee, come see what I found.”
“Something we can sell, I hope,” came the reply.
“Better,” the boy said and glanced at Don. “We may even get promoted.”
This piqued Lee’s interest, and a few seconds later another boy was standing over Don, a look of disgust on his face. “How is this better?”
The Suit grinned at his companion. “Haven’t I told you to never judge a book by its cover?” He threw an arm over the second boy’s shoulder. “This is Don O’Hara.”
“Dang,” Lee said as he stared at Don, “you look terrible.”
Chapter 11
November 6, 625 T.A.
Don was never truly able to remember all that happened after he was found. Later, he knew he’d told the Suits that there were two more of his comrades missing. The Suits sat him down on a large piece of cement and freed Guy, patching him up while they questioned Don. He answered them, unaware of what he was saying, as his mind and body slowly gave way to shock.
He remembered being surrounded by people, all of whom were extremely excited. People without faces came and went, their voices not even breaching the fog. He stared straight ahead, hands resting limply in his lap, as medics poked and prodded him.
Eventually, he was led from the wreckage, supported by a stranger’s hands. He passed by what had been the battle zone without looking at it. A face jumped out at him near the bottom of a rock pile. Blood ran out from the side of Pepito’s mouth, opened in an everlasting cry of pain. The entire left side of his torso was nothing more than a tangle of flesh, guts, and bone.
The next time he could make sense of what was going on around him, he was sitting in a sterile room, staring at his hands as men in white uniforms walked past. He wasn’t sure why he was here, except that’s where they’d told him to wait.
Wait for what? He dropped his head to rest in his dirty hands. Don had not seen or heard of his companions since he’d left the Freemen’s hideout. He didn’t know how long it had been, nor where they had been taken. He considered roaming the halls to find them, shouting their names until someone either answered him or carted him away to a white padded room. Don considered, but did nothing. He didn’t have the energy for a confrontation. For once, he would do as he was ordered, no questions asked. And maybe, just maybe, he might come out of it alive.
A black uniform entered his vision in a stark contrast to the white of his surroundings. The Suit sat next to him and spoke in a voice Don recognized. It was Lee. “You still look awful.”
Don didn’t answer. Even that took too much effort.
“Everyone is happy to know you’ve been found.”
Found. The word echoed through Don’s mind, dredging up a memory of things he’d heard hours before. Somebody wants you found. Somebody or somebodies, we think, with a lot more influence than General O’Hara.
The Suit kept talking, but Don didn’t hear him as he was reminded of the disturbing conversations he’d had. I think you’ll find you’re a little more important to them than you know. Somebodies, them, everyone. Who were these people?
“Who is?” Don asked, interrupting Lee. “Who is happy?”
Lee stared at Don, train of thought lost. He blinked and realized what Don was referring to. “Well, everyone, you know? We were all looking for you.”
“Why?”
Lee frowned a little. “Uh, because you were missing, and, um, in the custody of the rebels.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
The Suit raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Don shook his head. “I was participating in a training exercise. I wasn’t kidnapped, nor did I run away. I didn’t just disappear without a trace. Part of the exercise was to test our ability not to be found. Everyone at Camp Lorenzo would know that. No one had any reason to believe otherwise.” He looked up at Lee. “Why were you all searching for someone who didn’t need to be found?”
“But you were here,” Lee answered, “so we were right.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Then what is? Because I’m beginning to think you hit your head on something.”
Don shifted, agitation growing. “Don’t you get it? Sergeant Cohan knew where I was. The other boys knew where I was. The commander knew where I was! I was in the mountains training, not here, not in Nueva Carolina. Why would those people be looking for me? Why would the Suits be looking for me? They wouldn’t, unless—” He cut his own words off as he remembered their discarded weapons and duty belts. Was it possible? Had they really caused this?
“Unless what?”
“I don’t know, just speculations.”
Lee continued to look at him, and Don could see genuine interest in his eyes.
Don sighed. “I think, maybe, we took this too far. I think we scared them.” He thought about what the Freeman had said, and added, “I think I scared them.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Freeman said some things.”
The other boy leaned forward slightly. “What things did they say?”
“Nothing, really. They thought I knew things, that I was part of something. I don’t know.”
Lee’s eyes glinted. “And you believe what the Freemen said?”
Don shrugged, unnerved by the Suit’s behavior. “I don’t know what to believe. None of this makes any sense.”
“What if,” Lee said slowly, “the Freemen were right?” Silence fell between them as Lee held his gaze.
Again, words echoed through Don’s head. Let’s start somewhere easy. How about the names of the Councilmen you have personally met? Don licked his lips, unsure of what to say. Then Lee leaned back in his chair and smiled. “This is all hypothetical, of course.”
Don nodded. “Right,” he answered, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Lee had been dead serious, as serious as the Freemen had been. He slumped back into the chair, too tired to do anything else.
Before he closed his eyes, he saw the Suit watching him. If only his head didn’t feel so fuzzy, if he could think properly, but it was all too much for him right now. He had the strangest feeling that he’d almost found out something he shouldn’t have, as if his mind had nudged a door open and then promptly shut it before he could see what was inside. The more he tried to retrace his thoughts, to find that door again, the more he couldn’t remember what it was that had led him there.
Don heard Lee stand, and opened his eyes. The boy was looking toward the end of the hall where his partner now stood. He nodded at Lee, and Lee glanced down at Don. “Well, then, it’s time to go.” Don shrugged and waited for the boy to depart. “You’re coming with me, obviously,” Lee instructed. “Now that we’ve found you, we’re not just going to leave you.”
Don leaned forward and looked down the hall, where the second Suit stood waiting patiently. “Right,” he said and pushed himself up slowly, dust falling to the floor from where it had caked onto his jacket and pants. “Lead on.” He motioned tiredly.
Lee headed off toward his partner. Don closed his eyes for a moment, overcome with exhaustion, then forced his feet to move. Lee reached the corner and held a quick, whispered conversation with the other boy before Don reached them.
Lee continued on without a word, but the partner remained where he was, studying Don thoughtfully. Don looked away from him. The image of this boy’s face, twisted in disgust as he suffocated Don, was forever ingrained in his mind.
“Just a little longer,” the boy said. He put a hand on Don’s shoulder, preventing him from following Lee. “We’ll follow Lee in a moment. Preparations have all been ma
de to move you safely. I don’t expect any interference, but if something should happen, you must do exactly as Lee or I say.”
“Fine,” Don answered, wondering just what kind of preparations he was talking about.
They didn’t speak again until the boy motioned for Don to follow him. “I don’t think I introduced myself before,” the boy said as they walked.
Don had the fleeting thought that it would have been a little hard for the Suit to have done so while he held a knife to Don’s throat, but he said nothing.
“My name is Nathan. You’ve spoken with my partner, Lee. We’ve been assigned to you until your return to Camp Lorenzo.”
“Assigned?”
“Well, more like asked for the mission. Seeing as we found you, we felt it was our responsibility to look after you.”
Don raised an eyebrow; he had the strangest feeling that he had suddenly become their trophy.
He let silence fall between them. They turned another corner and passed through a lobby with tinted windows and sliding doors. A sleek, black car eased up to the curb just as they reached it. Nathan pulled the door open, ushering Don inside as Lee pulled up on a speeder. Inside the car, Don’s eyes closed almost immediately, and he fell into a light doze.
A hand shook him awake, and Don crawled blearily from the back of the car, wincing slightly from accumulated pains. Nathan pointed toward a door at the far end of a low-ceilinged garage. Don walked toward it, not bothering to look at his surroundings or to see who had joined his escort. He didn’t care.
Nathan stopped him in the next hall and motioned toward a room that broke off. “You can shower there, and you’ll find a change of clothes when you’re done.”
Don felt an unexpected wave of gratitude toward Nathan. He stripped slowly, fumbling with his mud-caked buttons, before stumbling into the shower. For the longest time, he simply stood beneath the hot water, letting it rinse the sweat, grime, and memories away. Finally, he began to scrub his body clumsily with his good hand.
When he was certain that each grain of dirt had been cleansed from his body, Don turned the water off. Someone had come and gone in the time he had showered, for his dirty clothes had disappeared, and new ones lay on a bench beside a towel. As Don dried his body, movement caught his eye. A mirror hung on the far wall above a counter of sinks.
He wrapped the towel around his waist and stared at his reflection. His appearance had changed a great deal from the discontented, pasty-skinned space-station boy. His shoulders had broadened, and his muscles had become hard and defined. His tanned skin was now covered in myriad purple and green bruises. His hair had grown down around his ears, and his eyes stared out at him with frightening emptiness.
His mind wandered back to the boy who had months before looked into a different mirror, wishing to be normal. His hands clenched into fists on the marble counter, the back of his left stinging as the skin stretched uncomfortably. Still not normal. He’d been a fool to think he could be anyone but General O’Hara’s son.
As quickly as it came, the fire drained from him and left him leaning against the counter, exhausted, looking into the bottom of a sink. Why had his foolish delusions come to this? Why did others have to get hurt because of his choices? Pepito was wrong. He couldn’t live his life the way he wanted, because the consequences cost too much. Some people couldn’t choose the way they lived their lives.
Don lifted his eyes and saw Lee reflected in the mirror, watching him from the door. He turned and avoided the other boy’s gaze as he dressed in silence. It wasn’t until Don was about to leave the room that Lee spoke.
“It would be best if we had your hand looked at before going to your comrades.”
Don blinked. “They’re here?”
“Yes.”
“Where?” he breathed. “Where are they?”
“Safe,” Lee said, “bu—”
Don glared at the other boy. “I’m fine, dammit! Where are my friends?”
Lee stared at him for another moment and then shrugged. He turned and walked out the door. Don followed quickly, heart racing. He had given up hope of seeing anyone again until he got back to camp. After he’d been whisked away from the Freemen’s hideout, he hadn’t heard even a whisper of their names.
The walk through the narrow hall seemed to take forever. Don was acutely aware of every breath, every step he took. Every thought echoed loudly in his mind like a broken record playing over and over again. Were they okay? Where had they been? What had happened to them?
Lee led the way through another door, another hallway. How long will this take? Don fiddled nervously with the unfamiliar clothes. How much farther? Please be all right.
Suddenly, they were there. Luke stood by a bed where Tony lay, propped up by pillows, with an IV in his arm. Zeik sat at the bed’s foot. John conversed in the corner with the other Black Knight, and Dooley sat slumped in a chair by the wall.
“You’re okay,” Don said, relief flowing through him. “You’re really okay.” He leaned against the doorframe, unsure if he wished to laugh or cry, while his six companions stared in surprise. His throat seemed to swell in the moment of silence; they were here, all of them.
“Okay is a funny way to put it,” Tony finally said, breaking the spell that had frozen them in place. “But yes, we're alive.”
“Don!” Zeik leapt forward and clasped his hand. “We didn’t know what happened to you.”
“Same to you,” Don answered, hooking his arm around Zeik’s neck as he blinked back tears. “Damn, it’s good to see you guys.”
“What? Were you worried about us?” Dooley asked from his chair. He waved his hand as if warding off an annoying fly. “We can take care of ourselves.”
“Even if we’ve been captured,” Zeik piped up, ducking out from under Don’s arm.
“And from the sound of things,” Dooley interrupted, “we fared better than you guys.”
“Yeah,” Don said quietly. “Yeah, I guess you did.” He looked from Dooley and Zeik to the rest. Don and his comrades had been separated from the other four for a full day, tops, and yet they looked so much worse for wear. The circles under their eyes were deeper, smiles hidden beneath stricken faces, still tormented by events that had transpired only hours before. They looked more worn and beat up, almost frayed around the edges.
That was when he noticed. Someone was missing. “Where’s Guy?”
His question was met with silence. His companions from Gabriel Company refused to meet his eyes.
John took a step forward. “He’s been taken to surgery.” There was accusation in his voice as he spoke. “They don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
“Dammit.”
Zeik cast a worried glance in Luke’s direction. Luke nodded toward the foot of Tony’s bed, and Zeik steered Don protectively toward it. “Sit down. You’ve got to be exhausted.”
“No more than any of you.” Don laughed a little, but he sat as instructed and then started, glancing toward the door. Lee was gone.
“He left right after you got here,” Luke told him, handing him a glass of water. “It’s strange, but they aren’t as bad as I thought they’d be.” Don raised an eyebrow, and Luke shrugged. “They’re very polite.”
“Yeah, but I never thought I’d hear that from you.”
“You learned something about the Freemen. I learned something about the Suits.”
Don raised his hands. “I surrender.”
Luke laughed and pulled Zeik away to stand between the Black Knight and Don. Don looked down at the glass of water in his hands. “So...” he finally started.
“So,” Tony replied.
“You okay?”
“I’ll survive,” he answered, and stifled a cough. “They have me on a bunch of drugs and crap they say will help. I secretly believe it’s all mummifying my organs, although at the moment, I feel great. So whatever it all is must be working.”
Don nodded and took a sip of his water, refusing to look at his friend.
> Tony nudged him with his foot. “Hey,” he said and Don looked up at him. His face wasn’t as pale as it had been, and his eyes didn’t carry the lifeless look that had worried Don so much the day before. “I’m glad you’re not hurt.”
“Thanks,” Don said hoarsely. He stood abruptly, setting his glass of water on the bedside table as an excuse to compose himself.
“Are you going to be okay?” Tony asked him quietly.
Don shrugged. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I honestly don’t know.”
Tony’s brows creased worriedly as he watched his friend. A second later, his body was wracked with coughing.
“Never mind me. You should worry about yourself.”
Tony lay back against the pillows, struggling to breathe deeply. “It’s not your fault.”
Don shook his head in reply. “That’s not what the Black Knights think, and I doubt very seriously Guy is going to be very forgiving from his grave.”
“You had no control over what happened to Guy. This is not your fault.”
“You keep saying that, and I’d love to believe you. God, would I love to believe you! But I can’t. You’re wrong.”
Tony grabbed Don’s wrist. “Listen, none of us blame you for what happened. We all understand. You can’t change that your father is a general.”
“But it is my fault for pretending he isn’t,” Don countered. “I endangered everyone.”
“Don—”
“Enough,” Don interrupted. “I was stupid, people got hurt, and I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”
Tony regarded him with somber eyes but didn’t speak. Don returned to his perch at the end of the bed and lay across it, hands tucked behind his head. No, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. His friends would not be hurt because of him, not again. He just needed to figure out the solution.
“Wake up,” a voice commanded, and something bumped against his knee.
Don jerked in surprise. His furtive eyes landed on Dooley’s form.
“You okay?” the boy asked as he met Don’s nervous gaze.