by Eileen Sharp
Before she could say anything else, two med techs surrounded him and took over. She followed, her eyes never leaving his.
∆∆∆
Cristian sat on the edge of the infirmary bed, clothed in light gray scrubs, monitors attached to his chest. His reunion with Caina had only lasted a few moments, and he felt more than a little cheated.
The beige collapsible walls of the examining room did not reach up to the high warehouse ceiling, but they might offer enough privacy for him to have some time with her. She sat on the chair next to the bed, one knee drawn up under her leg. She was still slim, her hair longer than he remembered it. Her face had changed as well, leaner, though her mouth remained full. He’d had a hard time keeping his heartbeat at a low rate while the med tech monitored him. The medical exam was meant to determine if he was healthy, not how Caina affected him.
“Okay,” a ginger-haired, slightly plump med tech said, hitting a screen next to Cristian’s bed with a pudgy finger. He sighed as if the entire medical check had been an exhausting ordeal. “I think we’ve got everything we need. If you need something, let us know. We’ll be close by.”
“Thanks,” Cristian said, willing his patience to last a few more seconds.
The med tech started to walk out the door and then stopped, turning around and muttering to himself, “Did I send that to Dr. Yoh?”
Cristian almost groaned out loud as the tech returned to one of the screens. It took a year’s worth of self-restraint to remain quiet.
The med tech’s gaze scanned the screen, and then he closed the program. “Okay, let me know if you need anything.”
“I w-will. Thanks.”
The tech smiled, a patronizing expression Cristian had seen more often from everyone here at the Alliance base than he had ever seen with the Nos. Even medical professionals treated his stuttering as a sign of mental impairment. Curiously, the well-meaning pity felt no better than the Nostekoi’s outright disdain. The tech slid the door closed behind him as he left.
Cristian waited until he couldn’t hear the footsteps, and then slid off the bed and pulled Caina from her chair.
A shy smile stole across her lips. He pulled her closer until she bumped up against him. She reached out and clutched his shirt in her hands.
Bowing his head, he brought his forehead down to hers. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“How are you?” he asked.
“Good. But you’re so thin. It scares me.”
“N-nah. I’m okay.” He had better comebacks, but stuttering made it difficult, so he kept it simple.
“You came so close to not coming back, you know that?” Her voice broke on the last words and her eyes watered.
He framed her face in his thin hands. “No crying. I didn’t survive a Nos concentration camp to c-c-” the word stuck and he swallowed and tried again. “Come back and watch you cry.”
She tried to smile. It wobbled, and then she buried her face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her as she tucked herself in his embrace. It hurt him to see her cry, and he closed his eyes, waiting it out. He wound his fingers in her hair.
He spoke, choosing his words carefully. “I had a lot of t-time in solitary. I thought about you,” he continued, trying to slow down his words so he wouldn’t stutter them.
“I thought about you, too,” she answered, looking up at him. "Every day."
“It made me think.” He paused. “I know I’ve never asked you to forgive me for what I did on Saida. I was too afraid, but I’m asking now.”
She didn’t reply, and his heart skipped. Was his betrayal the one thing she couldn’t forgive? Finally, she spoke.
“That’s old stuff I never cared about and you shouldn’t either. You didn’t do anything to hurt my parents. The Nos did that. And they gave you an impossible choice. What I really want is for you to promise me you won’t leave again. I’ve lost most of my family and I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
“I promise,” he said.
She swayed with him in their embrace for a moment. “Did you ever see Joshua?”
“Yes, but don’t ask me about it.”
Bowing her head for a moment she took a deep breath. “Fair enough. I will say that it kills me.”
“I know.”
He sighed, holding her close, and then smiled into her hair. “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt about this. Over and over. I’m living the most perfect moment in my life right now.”
“Hmm. We’re like, psychic. I’ve had the same dream too.”
He laughed.
“I guess I should go,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to rest?”
“Nah. S-stay with me.”
“But you should probably be by yourself.”
He didn’t tell her that he’d spent way too much time alone. He held her hand and backed up to the bed, his mouth crooked in a teasing smile. With a quick pull on her hand he unbalanced her and she stumbled and fell onto the bed with him, laughing.
“See?” he said. “I’m resting.”
She lay her head on his shoulder. “Go to sleep.”
He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep with her so close, his mind reeling with the thrill, but before he knew it, drowsiness overcame him. His last thought flickered like a sputtering light. Wherever his former best friend was now, Joshua was terribly alone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Informant
CRISTIAN’S PROMISE to stay with Caina lasted only three days. It ended one afternoon during physical therapy.
The rehab complex was housed in a former shuttle bay, with machines spanning the cavernous space.
One foot against a weight machine and the other on the floor, Cristian pushed against the weight while a therapist monitored his cyber knee. A short, muscular man with a shaved head, Mike had met with Cristian only a day before and assessed the knee.
“This is pretty amazing,” Mike said, one hand on the knee as Cristian pushed against the weight. “They made hamburger out of the surrounding tissue when they first put it in, but I’ve never seen a better cyber joint. This thing goes well beyond what you need. If you had two of these, you could run for days.”
Cristian smirked. “N-no thanks.”
Mike pinned him with a pointed glance. “I know what you went through to get it, but this tech is incredible.”
Cristian pushed against the weight. Two hundred and seventy pounds. Considering how thin he was, and the state of his atrophied muscles, he shouldn’t be able to press even a hundred. It was a little surprising.
“What about stress on my normal joints? Why does a better knee matter?”
“Knees are complicated and prone to injury. It’s one of the first things a professional cyber player gets done.”
Athletes usually started going cyber early. There were few Natural Leagues any more. Cyber Leagues, Chem Leagues and Super Leagues all had their fans. Experimental Leagues had been banned because the death rate was so high.
“Won’t it rip up my muscles? I'm really weak right now.”
Mike glanced up at the screen showing the cellular activity of Cristian's leg muscles. “That's why I'm here, to make sure you don’t—but if we wanted to see the full potential, your whole body would have to be cyber.”
A bright flash of memory shocked his brain, the empty white room coming back to him, and the blood and pain. He winced it away, concentrating on pushing against the weight. He finished the set, still blocking the memories. He stood up and glanced over at the screen that had Mike so fascinated. “Not interested.”
Mike rubbed his shaved head, shaking his head. “Like I said, the caliber of this engineering is beyond anything I’ve ever seen, and if the Nos have this and they are using it on their soldiers, it explains a lot.”
“Like an elite unit?” Cristian said, the blurred movements of the red-eyed soldiers coming to mind.
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“Right,” he answered. It wouldn’t be any big revelation to find out they’d made a few cyber soldiers. Too bad he couldn’t remember anything about his time with the Nos. He knew his first debriefing must have disappointed Commander Lenoir, but his memories contained nothing useful. The only thing he remembered were long days in a cell and the time Joshua had almost killed him in the cafeteria.
Mike’s screen turned black, and a message indicator sounded. Mike poked at it with a beefy finger, and a message popped up.
“Looks like they want you up at HQ. Immediately.”
Cristian sighed and threw his towel down. He had no idea what they wanted, but he doubted it was anything important since he didn’t have much to offer.
The closer he got to the Commander’s office, the more the warehouse architecture changed. The ceiling dropped and the walls got closer. By the time he reached the main offices, there was actually carpet, to his amusement, and fake plants.
The double doors to Commander Lenoir’s office were open. Cristian knocked and stood at attention, glancing in at the dark room. Recessed lights shone down on a big oak table, but he couldn't see anyone.
“Come on in, Cristian,” Commander Lenoir’s voice called.
He obeyed, and Commander Lenior stepped into the lights. His long, angular nose and narrow face looked even more hawkish with the light coming from above. Sharp shadows hollowed out his eyes. He wore his usual dark blue uniform, the medals gleaming on his chest. “You can close the doors.”
Cristian closed them, his curiosity rising. Why the privacy?
“Have a seat,” the commander said, doing the same at the head of the table.
“Yes, sir.” Cristian found a chair a polite distance away and sat upright, the sweat from his workout trickling down his back.
“You may not be aware of this because of your recent captivity, but the Alliance has had some significant successes over the past few months.”
“N-no, sir, I wasn’t aware of that.”
The thin older man put a finger on the table, and a hologram rose. Various pinpoints of light shone out on a galactic map. “Some of our best hits, right there,” he said, pointing out the dots. He continued, “All these victories are owed to a single Nos informant.”
Cristian tried not to show his surprise. The Nos wouldn’t be stupid enough to allow someone to sabotage them this many times. They were almost inhumanly aware of everything that happened in the twin galaxies.
The commander continued, “This informant has a particular interest in you. He made certain you were one of the prisoners in the recent trade.”
Not knowing what to say, Cristian stuttered back, “W-why me?”
Commander Lenoir settled back in his chair and put his hands in the air in a futile gesture. "We don't know. It's a clue to the informant's identity, obviously. One of our strategic staff came up a theory—Nic Anderson, a young man who had his brain wiped particularly clean by the Nos during the first invasions––"
"I know who Nic is," Cristian interrupted.
The commander continued, "He thinks the informant is Joshua."
A wave of disbelief, fury, and a stranger emotion he couldn't identify washed over him. "No, sir," he said without stuttering, a cold confidence giving him strength. "He's a traitor, through and through."
The Commander stared back at him, his expression unreadable. "So the idea that Joshua might not be in league with the Nostekoi doesn't seem probable. Why?"
"Because I saw him," he ground out through his teeth, his voice harsh and low, his anger rising and replacing his cool assurance. "He's a b-bloody Nos, all the way. If anything, Nic is c-completely––" he halted, anger locking up any attempts to speak. "He's fried or worse, Joshua is…" he locked up again and waited, finally spitting out, "Playing you. He has no soul, I swear."
"We think he took a significant risk to get you out of there."
"I think he made a c––" he stopped and started again. "Calculated move. You don't know how smart he is. He thinks two steps ahead of everyone––"
He forced himself to slow down, though it took several moments. "Around him, I've seen him do it."
"So he's ambitious enough to betray the Alliance. Or so thoroughly brainwashed he can't help himself."
"I n-never believed he was brainwashed. Never. You're making a mistake."
The stuttering and frustration made him want to jump out of the chair and throw it across the room. Joshua was gone. There was nothing he or anyone else could do to change that. It made him sick, and he hated it, and he hated Joshua, and he hated the Nostekoi, but it was the truth. The idea that anyone thought Joshua might be anything else was wishful thinking.
The Commander stood up. "Everything we've discussed is highly confidential. You will not divulge the knowledge that we have an informant or our theories about his or her identity."
"Yes, sir."
"That is all. You're free to go."
"Thank you, sir," Cristian said, concealing his bewilderment. He knew the Commander well enough to sense his disapproval. Not that it mattered. Cristian knew the informant wasn't Joshua, and if they didn't believe him, they would reap the consequences.
He stood up and saluted the Commander with a swift motion. He turned and walked to the double doors, keeping his shaking hands out of the Commander's view. He closed the doors and walked away, breathing deeply. He remembered Joshua's red eyes gazing down on the prisoners from the walkway. Like a disinterested stranger, his glance had passed over Cristian without a flicker of recognition. There was nothing left of his best friend anymore. Another memory the Nos had allowed him to keep.
But the further he walked down the hall, the stronger his doubt became. It swept over him until he stopped, standing there, paralyzed.
Cristian turned and found a vacant room. He slipped inside and closed the door. The rush of anger finally overcame him and he sank to the floor, shaking. What was wrong with him? The idea that Joshua and Caina could go back and be like they were, that all of them could--it was too much to hope for. And yet, apparently, he still did.
He took a deep breath and stood. Commander Lenoir had called him into that room for a reason. He'd wanted to verify a theory, and maybe he wanted Cristian to be a part of it.
Any chance Nic might be right was worth looking into. He opened the door and walked back to the double doors.
His knock was answered and he stepped into the room. Nic sat next to Commander Lenoir. A little pudgier and with his lank blond hair in his eyes, the young intellectual didn't seem surprised to see Cristian.
"Commander, I'd like to t-talk about your informant." His expression might be composed, but Cristian’s speech betrayed him.
"Good. We could use you."
"Are you bringing him in?"
"It isn't what I would like to see happen because he's too valuable where he is, however, we've received a communication from the informant that hinted he might be planning to defect. He can still provide us with invaluable intel if that's the case."
"W-what can I do?"
Nic swiveled in his chair, one foot thrown over his knee. "We think it's going to be during our next mission to Pandora. I heard you weren't ready to go back in."
"For this, I am."
"We leave this afternoon, and you don't have medical clearance," the Commander said.
"Then g-give it to me. I'm good to go."
Lenoir smiled slightly. "I thought you might be. By the way, you were wrong."
"About J-Joshua being a traitor?"
"Well, that too. But about forgetting how smart Joshua is. I remember everything––how smart he is and how he thinks. That's why I think he's playing someone, but it isn't us."
Cristian stared back without answering. He hoped Joshua was on the right side but only part of him dared to believe.
The part of him that survived the Nos didn't. He was crazy for going anywhere near the Nos yet he felt driven to try to restore what family remained for Caina. He'd been
a part of their destruction, even if it was something he'd wanted no part of, and if he could bring her brother back, he would try. He also knew he wasn't going alone; he'd be surrounded by other soldiers. He took a deep breath, reaching for the inner calm he'd been training to develop when the panic attacks would come. He would survive this.
∆∆∆
Cristian crouched at the edge of the open hatch of the stealth craft, his eyes trained on the lights on the ground far below. The cold black wind of the night blew through his thin onix-covered suit, chilling him.
The craft made almost no sound as it descended. Inaudible, it also maintained invisibility from a hull coated with a thin film of onix. There were only five such stealth ships in the Alliance fleet. Two of them were here tonight.
Night ops always felt different, as if the rules could change at any moment. Hanging above the planet, waiting to drop down, Cristian tried not to think what was at stake, or that Caina was a few feet behind him with Brian. He wished they weren’t there. Anything could go wrong with this mission.
Nic’s voice came through the transmitter fin his ear. “We’re at 50 meters and descending. Lines out!”
“Finally,” Kirk growled, crouched next to Cristian. The former ball player had been selected because he’d been with Joshua during Nic’s rescue. One more familiar face.
Cristian threw the line out into the darkness, watching it uncoil and disappear. He activated the onix and watched as the rest of his squad disappeared, doing the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caina’s fingers run along her leg, her head down. Even in onix with military weapons strapped to her body, she had a fragile beauty that took his breath away. She faded into the darkness, and he turned his attention to the roaring wind that ripped at him .
“…three, two…one…go!”
His feet slipped off the edge and his weight thrummed down the tagline. His brake hand remained loose, letting the rope slide through. Sometimes he enjoyed the sensation of a controlled fall, but tonight he focused on what he needed to do when he hit the ground. The academy was the last stronghold against the Nos on this planet, and most of the important government officials of the colony were sheltered behind its defenses.