by Elin Wyn
Team Three’s usual shuttle came into view, and at first, I didn’t see anyone. Then Jalok struggled down the ramp holding an enormous piece of equipment. He settled it onto the ground and wiped his brow before he noticed my approach.
“Sybil?” He looked me up and down, his gaze settling on my face. One look at my expression and he knew I was upset. “What’s wrong? What are you doing here?’
“I—I really need to speak with Cazak. Is he here?”
His brow furrowed in confusion.
“No, he has duties elsewhere. I’m not sure what.”
I tried to keep the frustration out of my tone when I spoke again.
“Can you try to find out? I’m sorry, but something’s—something’s happened and I really need to see him.”
“Ah, alright.” Jalok turned around and dug out his comms unit. I shifted nervously from foot to foot while he made the call.
“Hey, Navat, you know where Cazak is on duty today? Oh yeah, a supply run to Amarita? Man, wish I could get the cushy details. Do you have any idea when he’s coming back?”
Jalok turned his face away from the comm.
“He’s checking right now.”
“Thank you.”
I heard a distorted voice on the comm. Jalok listened intently, his face falling into a worried frown.
“We’re mobilizing now? All right, let me get this heap in the air and I’ll come pick you up.”
Jalok started up the ramp, stopping at the last minute as if he’d just remembered I was there.
“Cazak and Sakev’s shuttle went down.”
“Went down? You mean crashed?”
Jalok nodded grimly.
“Early reports are blaming the anti-alien separatists. We just picked up their distress signal and are heading that way to help. You should, uh, sit down or something, alright?”
Then he darted up the ramp and I stared in shock as the shuttle lifted off the ground.
Cazak’s shuttle had gone down.
Anti-alienists shot him down.
Cazak was gone.
My life had become a living nightmare.
Numb to the chill wind, or the way it blew my hair into total disarray, I stumbled down the tarmac and out the gate. The guards exchanged glances as I passed, but offered no assistance. As if they could have helped me anyway.
No one could help me. My father was held prisoner, both physically at the detention center and mentally by the Ancient Enemy hiding in his brain. The one person who could have, maybe, helped me deal with it had been shot down. Shot down. Just because a distress beacon was being sent didn’t mean he was still alive.
With no real direction or goal, I wandered through the city streets. My nose grew cold, then lost feeling, and I didn’t care. At some point, my body overrode my mind and I wound up heading inside Dottie’s apartment complex.
No one paid me any attention as I slunk into a corner, held my head in my hands, and sobbed. My shoulders shook, wracked with spasm after spasm, and my throat grew raw, but I still continued to cry. I had never felt so completely hopeless in my entire life.
Then I felt hands on my shoulders, shaking me, picking me up and embracing me. Dottie and Evie were there, holding me tight. I clung to them like a swimmer clings to a rock in a stormy sea.
“It’s all right, honey.” Dottie stroked my hair as she spoke. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Cazak’s a fighter, and tough as they come.” Evie sounded as if she were trying to convince herself as much as me. “And Sakev knows I’ll never forgive him if he gets killed. They’re going to make it.”
“They’re working round the clock to figure out a way to cure your father, too.” Dottie’s voice was brimming with conviction, but I noticed that she didn’t say they would cure him, just that they were trying.
Such cold comfort was all I really had, but Dottie and Evie made it easier to bear.
Some.
Cazak
Sakev and I leaned our backs against the rough bark of a tree while we watched the anti-alienists squirm in their vine cocoons. If it hadn’t been for the Puppet Master’s intervention, we would have been toast.
We joked for a time about how many of the anti-alienists had dark spots on the fronts of their pants. We weren’t in a mood for sympathy, not in the slightest.
They’d shot us down, after all, and then tried to kill us.
That kinda dampened any friendly feeling.
I suppose we should have been worried about the political ramifications of what had happened, but honestly, we were just glad to have come out relatively unscathed. It had been a nasty, brutal firefight, but we’d won, along with some help from our generous benefactor, the Puppet Master.
Part of me wished the Puppet Master would just send vines up to strangle each and every one of the damn anti-alienists, but that was both wishful thinking and short-sighted on my part. After all, killing the anti-alienists would just confirm that their prejudices were right all along. Normally, I wouldn’t care so much about stuff like that, but after having gotten involved with Sybil Anatosian, my perspective on many things had changed drastically. I was now playing the long game, rather than just trying to get through my next duty assignment or bottle of booze.
I suppose that’s why I’d fought so damn hard against the anti-alien terrorists. I had something to fight for now, maybe for the first time in a long time.
The sound of engines stirred us from our conversation. I looked up into the sky and saw an extra-large shuttle descending from the skies amid the swirling flurries. Sakev and I exchanged glances, because brass didn’t usually send out such a fuel-inefficient vehicle.
“Damn, I guess we rate luxury.”
“No, it’s probably just so that they have room for all the prisoners.”
Sakev looked over at the struggling, despairing bodies writhing in the constricting vines of the Puppet Master.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
The shuttle came down, blasting us with a hot breeze from its engine that actually felt quite nice under the circumstances. A ramp descended from the rear, and the first one down the pike was none other than Sk’lar. He was wielding one of those monster assault rifles that usually only the Valorni were strong enough to use properly. His black eyes were narrowed to slits, and he cast about in search of a target that was not forthcoming.
He was quickly followed by Navat, Tyehn, Jalok, and—to our surprise—the entirety of teams one and two.
“We merit some consideration, with three strike teams.”
“Yeah, I guess they love us, after all.”
Sk’lar strode up to us, a ghost of a smile flitting across his dour face for just an instant, the only sign I was likely to get that he was glad I was still alive.
“Cazak, report.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Jalok shoved into the front of the pack and glared at Sk’lar.
“Report? Are you out of your mind? Can’t you see these guys are exhausted?”
“I’m fine, cousin. Sakev is healed, too.” I flashed him a smile to show that I appreciated his rancor on my behalf, and then turned to address my commander. “There’s not a lot to tell. Sakev and I were flying back after our supply drop when we encountered artillery fire. Big enough to bring down our shuttle. From there, we engaged the enemy until the Puppet Master decided to give us some much needed backup.”
Sk’lar nodded, likely having inferred that much from the struggling forms of the anti-alienists.
“Looks like a catch of the day.” Jalok cackled at the furious human captives. “Not so damn smug now, are you? Let’s hear some of those anti-alien slogans come out of your mouths now.”
“Jalok, don’t taunt the prisoners. It’s unprofessional.”
“Very well, sir.” Jalok’s salute turned into an obscene gesture when Sk’lar turned back to face Sakev and me.
“You men did good work here today. I’ll be sure to put a commendation on your report.”
“Did you hear that?” Sakev
turned a grin toward me. “He wants to give us a condemnation.”
“Better to be damned for what we are, right?”
Sk’lar actually smiled for a moment.
“You two can go inside the shuttle where it’s warm. The rest of us will handle the cleanup.”
“Music to my ears, Commander.”
“Finally, you say something that actually makes sense, Sk’lar.”
We headed up the ramp, gratefully sighing as the warmth of the shuttle’s cabin enveloped our tired muscles. Outside, I heard Sk’lar bark at Jalok to tend to our wounds.
While he was patching us up, Jalok filled us in on what had happened while we were away.
“So, Dottie got an alert informing Sybil that her father wanted to see her.”
“How’s he doing?”
Jalok frowned, pausing in his ministrations for just a moment.
“Physically, he’s doing fine. Do you want to hear this or are you going to keep interrupting me?”
“I want to hear it, I want to hear it. Go on.”
“Right. So Sybil got called in to see her father, and at first, everything seemed just fine. He was engaging, cheerful, and to all appearances, he seemed to be back to his old self. They were just about to set him loose, too, when all of a sudden, he says he has something important to say to his daughter.”
Sakev and I leaned forward, eager to hear the next bit.
“So then he starts talking real crazy and skrell. Like, he called the Ancient Enemies glorious or something like that.”
“No!”
“Unfortunately, yes. He went on and on about how powerful and great they were, and get this; apparently humans are the perfect hosts for them.”
That made my skin crawl, because I realized that Sybil was going to be in great danger just by being one of her species.
“Perfect hosts?”
“Yeah, I guess they’re compatible. He also said humans were the most resilient beings in the galaxy or some shit. That was why they were the perfect hosts, too.”
“How did Sybil take it?”
“How do you think she took it? She’s devastated.”
“I have to get back to her. When do we take off?”
“Slow down, cousin. I know you’re eager, but we have a lot of cleanup to take care of here first. You’re relieved of duty for the time being.”
“Can you do that? You’re not Sk’lar—”
“Shut up and take it easy. Or I’ll cut off your other ear.”
A few days ago, that would have really pissed me off. But now that I knew it wasn’t an issue for Sybil, I was free to laugh along with him.
It took a couple of hours for them to finally get everything cleaned up at the battle site.
There were prisoners to secure, once we convinced the Puppet Master to let them go, and quite a few bodies to be attended to.
Sk’lar then ordered a full recon of the area, just in case there were more of the anti-alienists lurking in the woods, or maybe even a base camp, but they came up emptyhanded.
Finally, finally, we took off from the crash site and headed for Nyheim.
I spent the whole time wondering what I was going to say to Sybil. What can you say to someone whose only parent’s mind has been controlled by an evil, ancient alien force? Somehow, ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem like it would be sufficient.
The shuttle landed and, as soon as the ramp hit the tarmac, I was bugging out. I ran nearly all the way from the airfield to Dottie’s place, and then knocked on the door. Sybil answered it and we stood there for a minute staring at each other.
Then we surged forward and clutched each other in a fierce, passionate embrace. During the battle with the anti-alienists, I’d felt certain I wouldn’t live to hold her in my arms again. So I wasn’t going to miss that opportunity for the world.
At length, we headed inside, holding hands, and sat down on the sofa. I wasn’t sure where Dottie had gotten off to, but we had the place to ourselves.
“I missed you.”
Sybil put her hand on top of my own and squeezed tightly.
“I missed you, too.”
“I’m sorry about your father. I wish there was something I could do.”
“I know. It’s hard, but I’ll keep on going. What else can I do? I’m sorry you were almost killed.”
I shrugged.
“Goes with the territory of being a soldier.” I sighed and put my hand on her smooth cheek. “Listen, Sybil. When I was fighting for my life out there, the worst thought that I had was that I would never see you again. So I swore that if I got the chance, I’d tell you how I feel. I know this is all new, and big, and overwhelming, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Sybil clapped a hand over her mouth and a strangled sob escaped her throat. For a moment I thought I’d gone too far, but then she clutched me and cried into my chest.
“Cazak, I’m falling in love with you, too. I can’t even imagine my life without you in it now. I hope that you never leave me.”
I suppose I must have got some debris in my eyes during the firefight, because there were tears streaming down my cheeks, as well. I swept her up into my arms and carried her off to the bedroom. But I closed the door behind us, because love, like fighting, should never have a witness.
Sybil
I spent a long, sleepless night at Dottie's place, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about my father. I'd barely slept a wink the night before. My mind kept dwelling on the awfulness of what had happened to him.
If I hadn't been reeling from my father's possession under the influence of an otherworldly entity, I would have had more time to freak out over what had happened to Cazak and Sakev. The anti-alienists had been agitating for some time, teasing and sometimes inciting violence, but never a blatant attack. And against a military craft, bound on a humanitarian mission delivering food. It beggared the imagination that they would have the gall.
For two days, I tried to sort things out in my head, but came no closer to anything resembling clarity. The only thing I could really be sure of is how I felt about Cazak. Strong, smart, funny, but with an edge, my love for him was something I could cling to amid the tempest that my life had become.
I also knew that I was terrified of being possessed as my father had been. Every time I felt like drifting to sleep, paranoia would strike and I'd wonder if I were truly about to slumber or if I were in fact falling under the spell of one of those monsters.
The small hours of the morning passed, and the weak winter sun cast its ghostly light, thinned by light overcast, through the tiny bedroom window. I didn't move, unable to sleep, even though I was tired, and watched the shadows grow longer.
When they had stretched halfway across the room, I stood up at last and headed into the bathroom. After a quick bath, I brushed out my hair, put on some cosmetics, and dressed myself nicely, as if I would be appearing at an official social function.
I added a diamond pendant which my father had bought for me on one of my birthdays. It was a bit gaudy and ostentatious, but my father loved it and I hoped that if there were some shred of him left inside the husk in that cell, that it might stir his memory.
Though I could have called a car, I decided to walk to the detention center instead. Perhaps I was giving myself time to steel my nerve, or perhaps I just wanted to delay the misery of seeing him in such a pathetic state. The chill winter wind cut through even my thick coat like a knife, but it didn't hold a candle to the cold despair numbing my heart.
Once I reached the detention center, I had to wait in the lobby while I was cleared to see my father again. I tried to press the guard for information, but he remained tight-lipped. Part of me was hoping beyond hope that my father would be back to normal already, an overnight miracle which answered the hopes and prayers of my inner child.
Soon, I was shown into the hallway outside his cell. One look at my father and I knew that he was still under the thrall of the Ancient Enemy. A thin smile stretched
over his stolen face, but his eyes remained cold and distant.
“Hello, offspring.”
“Don't call me that.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I want to talk to my father, not to you.”
The smile remained intact. I flinched when the thing masquerading as my father suddenly stood up and walked to the middle of the cell.
“I'm afraid that will be quite impossible. This is my body now, until I see fit to discard it for another.”
I suppressed a shudder at the sound of the word ‘discard’. Ignoring what it had said, I stared into my father's blank gaze.
“Daddy, are you in there? Answer me, please. You have to fight this thing and come back to me.”
The thing wearing my father shook his head.
“You do not understand, offspring. It is your belief that being a vessel for a superior being is some sort of malignancy, like a disease, rather than a rare opportunity to touch the hem of greatness.”
I pounded my fist against the bars of his cell, too angry and frustrated to notice the pain.
“Daddy, come on, talk to me. You can beat this thing, you're stronger than it is.”
The Ancient Enemy's only response was to take another step toward the bars. It was now within arm's length, and could reach out to seize me through the bars, but I was too distraught to care.
In desperation, I lifted up the pendant around my neck and held it out like an offering.
“Look, you remember this necklace, don't you, Daddy? You gave it to me on my birthday.”
My father's face was crossed by what may have been interest. He walked forward and reached out to stroke the pendant.
“This necklace...”
“Yes, Daddy? Do you remember now?”
“It's constructed of pressurized carbon and soft, weak metal. Such baubles will be obsolete in the new Galactic order.”
“Damn it.” I hung my head in utter misery. “Why can't you just let him go? First, my father gets possessed, and then anti-alienists shoot down Cazak's shuttle, and--”
“Pardon me, did you say that Cazak's shuttle was attacked?”
I paused, unsure if I should continue, but my vague hope of freeing my father overrode any desire not to spill sensitive information to an enemy.