“I don’t think that’s a—” Noel-Len started, but it was too late. He felt it.
He felt gentle lips against his. Surprised, he watched her eyes flutter shut. His mind told him to push her away, his hands gripped her shoulders, ready for the action but they didn’t react.
When Caprice pulled away, Noel-Len was stunned by his temptation to continue at the sight of her flustered face. Lifting her chin, his lips met hers once again before pulling away, “I’m sorry ... but I can’t.”
Caprice studied him for a long moment and asked, “Why?” When Noel-Len didn’t respond, she said, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to be, forceful.”
Noel-Len pulled away from her, “Don’t get me wrong Caprice. I think you’re lovely, but I also think you... we shouldn’t jump straight into it. It’s true you may not see me for a while, but I can’t rule out the fact that a part of Michael might like you and ... I don’t want to lose a friend. So, I don’t blame you if you’re mad.” Noel-Len grudgingly announced.
“No, I understand,” Caprice muttered, the disappointment palpable in her apprehensive voice as she returned her side of the vehicle and Noel-Len climbed out of the car. “You have work too. So... yeah. I guess I’ll see you around.” He closed the door and with one last look at Noel-Len through the tinted window, she pulled her eyes away and started the engine.
“Yeah,” Noel-Len uttered, recognising the hurt expression. Moments later, the car started, and Caprice pulled out of the driveway before disappearing, leaving Noel-Len staring after her as she drove down the road before heading into the silent house.
A few hours later, the sun peaked warmly on the morning horizon in the distance. A cold sweat broke against Noel-Len’s heated skin. “Don’t you dare slow down Ignatius!” he heard Corporal Ian Kypreos yell from behind.
Bravely, Noel-Len peered over his shoulder. The Corporal’s light brown eyes assessed his own with an almost hidden expectation of failure. Noel-Len felt the trill of panic flutter along his spine when he tore his gaze away.
He sensed the Corporal’s eyes piercing on the back of his skull, but Noel-Len kept his pace before hearing Corporal Kypreos point out everyone else’s slow pace, when, they had kept their pace for the last twenty minutes. Another two k’s to go, Noel-Len thought.
“Sir!” he forced through quick breaths with everyone else.
When the group was finally given a short break to catch their breath, Noel-Len sat on the dirt ground, his feet curled in front of him as he drank the warm water in his canteen.
It surprised him that they were going for a run through the bush. He didn’t expect it, but he recalled the Corporal a few weeks ago declaring that they’d be exercising off base. He just didn’t expect the dry bush; filled with shrubs and gum trees lined with endless dirt roads.
He was grateful that today wasn’t too hot, yet with his pack on, he felt the weight of it now. He told himself, one more hour and they’d return to base.
“How are you doing Brown?” he heard Michael ask. Noel-Len’s eyes landed on one of two women in this group and the entire regiment. Noel-Len recognised the sweat lining her features and noticed her flushed face. She was tired just as he was and Michael as per usual was being a total pain. “Can’t keep up?”
“Shut your trap, Williams.” Tracey barked her stern pale blue eyes on his. “I got here before you.” Michael fell silent at that. Michael was the last, in the group, to make it to where they were allocated for a break and was the only person lagging the group.
Noel-Len didn’t blame him, Michael said he had thrown up after he had gotten home. With only an hour and a half sleep, Noel-Len was knocking on his door, forcing him to wake up. If it weren’t for that spare key, Noel-Len was certain Michael would have been in a whole lot of trouble.
Noel-Len heard laughter resonate throughout the clearing. “You’re such a snake,” Tracey uttered, and Noel-Len tried not to laugh, aware of everyone else chuckling at their conversation.
“Wait...” Michael began, the moment silence filled the group, “Speaking of snakes. You don’t think there are any here, do you?” Michael’s wide eyes scanned the area around him. Noel-Len knew him well enough to understand, his friend was terrified by played it off as a joke.
Noel-Len recalled the day when the Wildlife Rangers had come to his primary school, displaying all the different types of animals found in the Northern Territory, and to Michael’s discomfort—snakes. It was only a Children’s Python, but Michael wouldn’t go anywhere near the little reptile let alone touch it.
“Who knows?” asked a familiar voice, one that caught Noel-Len’s attention. At the far end of the group, stood Corporal Kypreos. “Just keep an eye out. The last thing we want is another dead soldier especially if he’s only a private.” the Corporal’s eyes fell on Michael. Noel-Len watched in amusement as he old friend itched to squirm out from under their leader’s serious gaze.
Corporal Ian Kypreos was a mixed indigenous Australian man with skin several shades darker than Noel-Len’s. He was someone who was not in the Northern Force but instead in the Commando’s core. Five years ago, soldiers needed to live in certain parts of Australia to be eligible for the core. However, given the initial alien invasion that ensnared the country, almost three years ago.
The Commandoes Core was later based in the Northern part of Australia, while the Australian Prime Minister along with other important people, insisted on travelling to and from the Northern part of Australia to the Australian Capital Territory, with the purpose to strengthen Australia’s northern defence. Something Noel-Len had been informed was never really on their agenda, by his mother.
No one responded to the Corporal’s comment and Noel-Len didn’t expect anyone to, as Ian Kypreos’s hazel gaze drifted over them. Soon enough, their break was over, and the group continued their training.
Later, Noel-Len’s unit, underwent various vigorous exercises targeting strength, balance, speed and stamina. Including, target practice. Over time, Noel-Len’s shoulder faltered to the numbness the submachine gun inflicted recoiling against his shoulder after every round. His targets were always hit and his accuracy always above average.
Even if weapons training had halted over half-an-hour ago, he continued to feel the impact of the rifle, against his shoulder. The rotation or massaging of his shoulder and arm never lessened pressure the buttstock had against his shoulder.
7
THE DARK AND UNPLEASANT MEMORIES FADED.
She knew they’d always be there only to resurface when it became difficult once more. “Why do I lose everyone I care about?” Gothalia asked to none but the stillness of her dark silent room.
Her words were answered by a knock on her bedroom door, and Danteus’s voice from the other side. “Gothalia, please open the door. I know you’re in there.”
She glared at the door. “Go away.”
Stillness strained the air between them. “No.”
Without another word, her door opened, it wasn’t a surprise her home used electronic locks, especially after that massacre. However, she knew if someone had enough energy, they could remove the entire door from the frame.
She didn’t care when he entered the room “It’s supposed to be locked.” Her eyes narrowed at the card, he held up in the darkness. “Why do you have that?”
“To check on you, Anaphora lent it to me. You were pretty broken up.” He watched her and it he couldn’t find any other words. “You have the worst luck, don’t you?” He wanted to say but didn’t, she’d probably burn alive for that comment.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she spat back. “Should I be okay with people dying?”
A reluctant amity convened between them, beckoning either to speak. “Yes. You’re a Centurion. A warrior. A soldier. Or have you forgotten? They gave their lives because it was their duty. Learn to look at things objectively and maybe it’d be easier...”
She exhaled, feeling weaker under the weight of his words but
not as sad. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m just wondering how much more pain and suffering is to come before things get better.” Gothalia felt Danteus move towards her, she didn’t fear his presence. The bed ducked under his weight as he sat on the edge.
“No one said living was easy but the freedom to live without suppression is something we must fight for. Even now, especially if the Xzandians are planning to enslave the entire world.”
“That is if the Humans live long enough.”
“And that’s why we’re here. No doubt, in these times there’ll be others who’ll awaken in this war. We must be there to remind them to fight. Can you do that as a Centurion of the Fire Reserve?”
Gothalia nodded and she pushed her legs out a little more, she realised she still wore her combat uniform and was getting mud on her sheets. She had a little more energy now regardless grateful for his presence, cleaning up the mess wouldn’t be a problem. “I can but will I be alone again?”
Gothalia felt his weight shift once more than the gentle touch of his forehead against hers. The evident, lamentation on her cheeks slid recklessly and he smelt the salty sadness associated with each tear. “You’re not alone and you never will be. We’re here too even L’Eiron and Anaphora.” In the darkness, they sat like for as long as Gothalia needed to allow the memories to resurface once more before she knew they’d vanish as did everything else, and she’d gather the energy once more to keep going. Regardless, of how much harder it was going to get from that moment on.
After Danteus parted, she managed to leave her home. She needed to leave the estate the place that reminded her of all those memories. She didn’t go to the Cetatea, she wasn’t ready yet. Instead, she walked the streets and headed to La Volpe Heights, a little lighter. She paused, before observing the artificial ocean, laid stretched before her. As real, as it could ever be than moved to the cliffside.
The bench she’d visit when she needed to be alone was unoccupied.
The air always smelt genuine, as did the fresh scent of water. Her mind failed to notice any faults with the artificial world her people have come to know so well in comparison to the surface world. However, a question would cross her mind everyone once in a while, when would the peace change? It wasn’t like she wanted the peaceful times to disappear, it was more like she knew not everything would last.
Gothalia realised it was going to rain by the cool oncoming breeze that gently licked her skin, from where she sat on the brink of a sharp cliff. Her eyes observed the gentle sway of the ocean laid stretched out before her. It danced and collided under the steering winds.
Vacillating with the gust, it roused the plea of a looming storm. The dark grey clouds overhead were staunch markers for her to return home but Gothalia feet remained rooted in place, her body frozen. In that moment, she didn’t care as she observed the peaceful scenery befalling the cliffside.
A few more moments, she thought, and I’ll work up the courage to face them. She knew others had gone in her place to deliver the news of her comrades’ deaths to their family, but she couldn’t get the image of their once existence they were reduced to dust within seconds. She couldn’t remove the feeling of guilt and shame from her stomach as her mind sorted through the memory.
To on lookers, she’d appear as any average woman just a little distant—perhaps.
Gothalia observed without judgment, the dark migrating specks, sprinkled the beach below. Kites glided through the air their wings guided by the ocean breeze, and she smiled.
The Kites’ wings fretted, as they stirred then aligned themselves to the air current before circling the beached stingray beneath the overcast sky before swooping down pick at its remains and soaring back into the air.
It was fake. Regardless, of how real it could appear to be. She eyed the metal railing she sat on, it was high, and it was sturdy. Everyone knew without being told, not to climb and no to go anywhere near the railing otherwise they’d face being burnt alive by the lava below.
The artificial briny yet cool air danced along her tongue and permeated her nose, clearing her mind. In moments like this, she loved the surface world more than she realised. Even though, her home managed to create artificial winds, storms and a sun it wasn’t the same as being above ground. It was a time when it would be sticky and hot but beautiful once the rain showered the city. This was what she loved, being at one with nature but as usual, it didn’t last too long as that one thing she didn’t need to look at right now—beeped.
She felt it shudder in her computer bag that settled on her lap. She heard another beep then felt it tremble once again. No, she thought, I need time. It wasn’t like she needed to be made aware of what was happening, and it wasn’t like she need to be a part of whatever it was that was happening. In the end, she knew that something like this was bound to happen. It was inevitable. It was the exact reason why she came to the cliff; it was that one place where she could be alone. It was because she knew she couldn’t escape it even if she wanted to.
She pulled out the communication device and stared at the screen, it was a text from Argos the commander of Dragon Core and he wasn’t in the best mood: Return to base, immediately.
When she returned to base, she’d found a familiar sight Argos Ambrosia’s assistant, Christian Antonius, cowering behind his clipboard as Argos threw a pen through the air. Obviously, fearful of Argo’s undisciplined and humiliating verbal and mild physical abuse but the implication was there. He was angry.
Gothalia understood numerous complaints had been filed against Argos. However, she and a few others knew, he wasn’t going to be relinquished of his position until, the Grand Elders considered he was irrelevant. A thought, that never sat well with her. At Anaphora’s request, she stayed imperceptible on the topic.
Argos dark eyes assessed Gothalia patiently waiting for a response, never uttered. He continued to reprimand her, and she wondered if he’d still be speaking to her if Anaphora was in the room. She had felt guilty enough for her comrade’s death and vowed to hunt down the woman who had slaughtered them without a second thought but for now, she needed to be patient her opportunity would arise.
“That’s enough Argos.” A voice uttered. Gothalia didn’t have to look, she knew who that deep rough voice belonged to. It was branded in her memory as much as Anaphora’s. “I’m sure Gothalia feels guilty enough. Especially, since she’s failed her final test.”
“I didn’t fail. I told you what she wanted and who she was and yet you refuse to believe me.” Gothalia growled, her attention on L’Eiron Augustin-Valdis. “You told us that extra measures had been in place to ensure that the limited numbers of Alastorians stay limited, but you never said anything about Excelian information in exchange for Xzandian technology. Or that the Humans would profit from this.” Gothalia held L’Eiron’s gaze, taking note of the smear of brown between the gold in his irises—not that she’d ever mention it, shadowed beneath his dark brown hair that in some lighting appeared black, like now.
L’Eiron was a tall man, his build equally intimidating as his presence reminding everyone, he was strong and dangerous. He held her gaze taking in her features, features that reminded him so much of her mother. With a reluctant sigh he proclaimed, “I didn’t think you’d find out like this or rather hoped you didn’t find out like this. That’s why Anaphora made sure you were always with her on missions.”
“And not with you why?” Gothalia questioned, her tone flat. “Your demonic blood is purer than Anaphora’s. Why did you only teach me control in the mountains and never on missions?”
“You need to be specific. Which question do you want me to answer first?” L’Eiron implied.
“The weapons. Who was she better yet how does she know me?”
“You know I’m still, here right?” Argos commented, attempting to gain the attention of either Gothalia or L’Eiron. “If anyone cares.”
Again, he was ignored.
Upstairs, the phone rang sifting through the air. Gothalia relaxed at the
sound, it comforted her in a way she never realised the ring of a phone ever could. It reminded her, unlike the others she was still here even if everything seemed a little strange. “Whatever.” Argos mumbled, coarsely moving up the fine silver stairs and to his office.
Gothalia’s gaze skimmed over her shoulder, before drifting to the tentative women concealed around the corner in the distance. “You can come out now.” Before her attention returned to L’Eiron.
He crossed his arms. “So, you’re going to listen now?” She crossed her arms, in return, and mimicked his stance.
“Intelligence suggests that Numitora Faustus-Ignatius, is responsible for the relay of Centurions in the Fire Reserve and to the Xzandians in exchange for weapons and technology that’ll aide the Humans in the upcoming war.”
Regardless, of how L’Eiron had worded it. She knew it was always Human Nature, to manipulate, gossip and lie even so at times with Excelians. A habit she hated.
“You shouldn’t do that you know.” Domitia informed, then her attention turned to L’Eiron. Her face flushed at the sight of him not that Gothalia noticed.
“And?” she asked L’Eiron. “You didn’t think to tell me or the fact that she could wipe out a person within seconds?”
“It’s not that.” L’Eiron added. “It was more along the lines we assumed it was better if you didn’t know. However, we didn’t expect she’d master it.”
“What are you talking about?” Gothalia asked. L’Eiron fell silent. Domitia, Melanie and Christian glanced at each other than Gothalia, their faces wore the same expression that Gothalia was familiar with. She glanced at them off to the side. “Are you going to tell me? You guys look like you know something.” The malice in Gothalia’s eyes caused fear to simmer within Domitia, Melanie and Christian.
They hesitated than glanced at L’Eiron who said, “It doesn’t matter right now.”
“Whatever. We’re going to get nowhere with this. If you won’t tell me, I’ll find the answer myself.” She glared at L’Eiron.
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