by Jaleta Clegg
Jerimon screamed. He was hit, his leg a mass of black and red. He toppled to one side, still trying to shoot the rifle.
The next shot took Habim full in his chest. He looked down, a confused child. "Ginni?" he said, his voice small. "It hurts." He toppled backwards.
The numbness that held me motionless cracked. Everything went clear and still, as if I stood in the heart of a crystal. I crossed the alley and took the rifle from Jerimon. He took one look at my face and handed it over, crawling away from me.
I didn’t think. I let the reflexes drilled into me take over. I stood, perfect stance, I could hear the instructor’s voice in my head. Feet apart, rifle level, elbows turned. I saw where the shots came from, the heads of Habim’s murderers rising above a stone wall across from us.
Time slowed. I breathed deeply. I was aware of my own heartbeat, a slow cadence in that one eternal moment. I squeezed off a shot with each beat. Five targets down. Another shot chipped stone at my feet. I turned smoothly to my left. More targets. Shot after shot until I ran out of targets.
Feet pounding the stones behind me. Turn right, raise the rifle, aim. Protect those hiding in the alley.
The crystalline stillness of slowed time shattered. I lowered the rifle. Patrol troops in battle gear faced me. I dropped the rifle to the stones and raised my empty hands. Only then did the screaming begin to register. The rumble of transports shook the stones around us.
"We need a medic," I said.
I looked back in the alley. Ginni held Habim’s head in her lap, stroking his hair as she cried. Jasyn wrapped her arm around Ginni and cried with her.
Medics hurried past me. I stood, frozen and numb again, unable to help, unable to move. They checked Habim and shook their heads. Ginni cradled him against her, sobbing and singing a lullaby. The medics moved on to Jerimon.
Doggo watched me, fear and respect in his eyes. I turned away. I couldn’t bear to see him look at me that way. I wanted him to call me Spacer Chick and tease me about wearing Tifa’s skirt.
My eyes focused on the face of the man standing in front of me. The numbness cracked and flared into white hot anger.
I slapped Lowell. The sound echoed like gunfire. I heard weapons raised and cocked. They were aiming at me. Lowell raised one hand, stopping them. He rubbed his cheek with his other hand.
"I probably deserved that," he said.
My eyes were drawn to his collar, to the insignia he wore. I thought I was immune to more shocks. I found out I wasn’t. The blood drained from my face. Lowell really did answer only to the Emperor himself. And I’d just slapped him.
"Hot bam," I whispered as my knees gave up holding me. I crumpled to the ground, seeking escape in unconsciousness.
Chapter 50
The medics wouldn’t let me stay that way. They patted my face, poured water down my throat, and waved sharp smelling chemicals under my nose. I gave up, sitting hunched over on a stone. I wasn’t going to escape that easily.
Lowell stood near me, watching with an impassive, mild look that drove me crazy. I saw the mark of my hand on his face.
They carried Jerimon out of the alley. I watched, stone faced. His leg was a mound of bandages. Jasyn came next, her arm around Ginni. Doggo trailed after them, looking lost. They brought Habim’s body out last, shrouded in a gray blanket.
A single tear slid down my face.
"Habim was the real target," Lowell said. "The Sidyama were following him. Ginni should be safe now."
"Why?" I asked.
Lowell scratched one ear. "His brother was called the Prophet. He led an underground movement calling for more moderation in the Sidyathari. He disappeared eight months ago. It’s almost certain he’s dead."
"Why Habim? He was harmless. He wouldn’t have hurt anything or anyone." I wrapped my arms around myself, holding in the pain, keeping myself from flying apart into pieces.
"He was the Prophet’s brother. They were afraid someone would use him against the Sidyathari. They were afraid that was what you were doing."
I closed my eyes, feeling tears burn hot in my eyes.
"The Sidyama assassination squad won’t be reporting back," Lowell said. "Four of them, shot right through the left eye socket. You missed on the fifth. He must have turned his head."
"I’m out of practice," I joked. It didn’t help. The tears flowed in earnest. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scrub the images of people dying out of my mind.
"Seven more of Blackthorne’s people," Lowell continued, seemingly oblivious to me. I knew he wasn’t, I knew he saw everything. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find he had some way of reading my mind. "You’re incredibly good."
"Damn you, Lowell!" I didn’t care what rank he held. He’d forced me into this. "Damn you," I whispered through my anger. "I don’t want to be good at shooting people, at killing people. Because I know how good I could be. I don’t want to die inside." I was shouting at him, rising from my rock as if pulled by my anger. "I don’t want to be one of your assassins!"
The medics were there. They injected something that made the anger and pain recede. I felt as if my mind were wrapped in soft layers of clouds. I felt shattered, broken inside. I let them lead me away. I let them give me something to make me sleep. I welcomed the black oblivion. I welcomed the drugs that kept the dreams away.
I woke, I don’t know how many hours later. I felt groggy, disoriented. I was on a ship. If I ever reached the point where I didn’t recognize the subliminal vibration of an engine, I would have to be declared dead. It was like a heartbeat, a part of my rhythm of existence. This was not my ship, though. My ship, Phoenix Rising, was a wreck, a burnt out hulk. And Habim was dead. I rolled over in the unfamiliar bunk and let myself cry, for my ship, for Habim, for the others, but mostly for myself.
I heard the door open. I kept my back to the room, deliberately ignoring whoever was there, hoping they’d go away. Footsteps crossed the room, six steps, large for a cabin on a ship. My mind raced, thinking of anything except the nightmares of people dying. I heard something clatter onto a table. The smell of food filled the room. My stomach growled.
I rolled over. Lowell straddled a chair, watching me. A tray of food steamed on the table next to him.
"Where am I?" I rubbed at eyes raw from crying.
"In my cabin," he said. "Which used to be the captain’s cabin until I commandeered it."
"Won’t your reputation suffer?" I said before I could stop myself.
"To have a woman in my cabin?" He sounded amused. "It can only be improved."
I sat, light-headed from lack of food and too much sleep and the drugs they’d given me.
"Eat it while it’s hot, it’s better that way," he said.
I crossed the cabin to sit in the chair then stared at the food. "What ship am I on?"
"The Avenger," Lowell said. "Ironic, isn’t it?"
"Did the others make it?"
"Jasyn and Ginni are fine, a few minor bruises. They’re both dealing with grief, but physically they’re fine. Clark took a hit in one shoulder, nothing too serious. Jerimon’s leg will take a month or two of reconstructive therapy. Tayvis twisted his ankle and refused to admit it, so he’ll be limping for a while. Who else are you interested in?"
I couldn’t eat the food yet. How many had died because of me? How many had been shot because I’d gotten into trouble? I wasn’t counting the ones I’d shot, only the ones I considered as friends.
"We picked up several others," Lowell continued. "Wade Breton and his brother Deke are on their way to Tebros for medical therapy. Deke should be able to make a partial recovery, if not a full one, in a year or so."
"You owe them. The Patrol owes them."
"The Patrol is paying for his care and transportation and housing while they are there. And Wade’s therapy as well. All survivors of Vallius are entitled to whatever help they need. Including you."
"What about Doggo and Flash?" I ignored his not very subtle hint.
"Both on their way ho
me to Ophir. Safe and sound."
"Commander Black and his team? Paltronis? Who died, Lowell?"
"Very few of my men, thank you for asking after them. I’ll let them know you did. I lost four, none that you’ve met. The others have injuries, but nothing too serious. Are you going to eat that?"
I picked up a forkful and ate it. After that my stomach got involved and it was easier. I didn’t taste it, I only knew it was hot and it was food and the people I cared about were safe. Relatively.
"There were some casualties from the merchant ships that rushed in," Lowell said.
"I owe Everett an apology," I said, mostly to myself.
"Captain Everett left you a message. He said it was his debt and he was sorry he didn’t move sooner. He left something for you." Lowell pushed the page button on the com unit. "Bring it in," he said to whoever answered. "How are you holding up, Dace?"
I put my fork down very carefully. I wanted to stab Lowell with it. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw things. I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted to go back to when I didn’t know I could shoot people in cold blood.
"I’m fine. Where’s my crew?"
He tilted his head, his silver eyes watching every move I made. "They’re on a salvage ship. The Phoenix is being towed to Ylisini for repairs."
I closed my eyes against the pain that sudden surge of hope brought.
"All repairs paid for in full by the Patrol," he said. "Although this time I think I’ll skip the extra equipment. Jerimon said it got you in trouble trying to explain why it was on your ship."
"Why are you doing this, Lowell? What payment are you going to demand?"
"None," he said, full of regret.
I looked at him, searching his face. His guard was down, I could read the emotion in his silver eyes. I saw the hurt there that mirrored my own.
"I slipped, Dace. I miscalculated and you paid the price. I’m sorry."
"Habim paid the price, Lowell."
"I missed with him. I failed all of you."
There was a knock at the door. Lowell got up to answer. I sat with my back to the door. He spoke quietly. The door slid shut. He put something on the bunk, a carrying case with mesh screens at the ends. He opened one end. A furry gray face peered out.
"Ghost?" My voice cracked on the cat’s name.
She mrowed. I crossed to the bunk. She stretched her neck out, sniffing me. She butted her head against my hand and purred. I picked her up, a warm furry bundle that cradled against my chest. She bumped my chin with her head. I scratched behind her ears.
The com beeped insistently. Lowell answered it.
"I’ll leave the two of you to your reunion," he said when he finished with the com.
I settled on the bunk, holding the purring cat and staring at the viewscreen on the wall opposite the door. It showed a planet turning slowly, a planet of red brown ruins and shallow oceans of turquoise. I fell asleep again, an exhausted sleep full of restless dreams.
Lowell came back some time later. I was still lying on the bunk, petting the cat. I felt fragile, made of brittle ice that would shatter at the slightest touch. Whatever drugs they’d given me to calm me down had worn off. I looked at him as he straddled the chair again.
"Let me go, Lowell."
"After you talk to one of the psych techs."
"Now," I said. Ghost grumbled and retreated to the far end of the bunk. "Are you filing charges against me?"
"No, should I?" He cocked his head to one side, watching me, his silver eyes impassive and unreadable.
"Then you have no right to hold me here." The ice cracked, my brittle self control threatened to snap.
"You are a danger to yourself and your crew in your current state."
"Let me go, Lowell," I shouted. I crumbled into tears, hot angry rivers that burned my cheeks. "I could shoot you," I whispered.
"Which is why you need help, Dace," he said more gently than before.
"This is what you wanted me to become. This is what you asked me to be after Dadilan. You wanted me to become a killer for you. I have."
"Not this way, Dace. This is not what I wanted."
"I killed the Inner Five, the leaders of Blackthorne and Targon. I shot them point blank. I killed them in revenge. And do you know what, Lowell? I didn’t feel a thing when I did it. That scares me more than anything else. I wanted to kill them. I wanted to watch them die. It would be so easy to give in to that. I would even enjoy killing for you. But I would hate myself for doing it."
"Dace," he said, trying to break through my scathing words, my self loathing. He wasn’t going to win this time.
"Who do you want killed next week, Lowell? Who’s in your way this time? Or should I just start shooting somewhere? Anywhere? Do you care how many others I kill? What about the innocent ones caught in the middle? Too bad, so sorry. You can’t make it better, Lowell." I was out of control. I couldn’t stop shouting at him. I couldn’t stop the hysterical escalation of my words. "I can kill for you, Lowell. And I’d excel at it. Isn’t that what you’re trying to push me into?"
The door slid open behind me.
"That isn’t what I want, Dace." He walked past me, out of the room.
I turned, expecting more medics with drugs to make me numb again. The pain inside was breaking me. It was Tayvis. I wondered how much of my rant he’d heard.
He didn’t seem to care what I’d said, or what I’d done, or even what I was capable of doing. He reached for me. I stepped back. I was going to start crying again. I didn’t want to, I wanted the pain to go away. I lashed out at him.
"I thought you hated women who cry," I said, a verbal slap.
"Only those who use it as a weapon."
"You said I scared you." I flung it at him.
"That doesn’t change how I feel about you."
I wrapped my arms around myself. I had to stay alone, I had to stay safe. I had to retreat to where life was simple, where people weren’t screaming because I’d shot them. I shook my head, backing away. Tears burned tracks over my face. I’d let Habim down, I’d let him die. I’d let him inside my defenses. I’d cared about him.
I backed up until I ran into the wall. I started to slide down it, wanting to curl up in a ball on the floor and just stay there, running away to where it was dark and safe. Tayvis followed me to the wall. He gathered me in his arms, holding me tightly.
I fought him. I couldn’t stop myself. I was hurting. I didn’t want to feel that vulnerable. I didn’t want him to see me lose control. It was too late for that. I gave in to the pain. I cried, racking sobs that shook me head to toe. He held me while I cried. I leaned against him, feeling his warmth. As the pain drained away and the sobs quieted, I heard his heart beating.
"My first real assignment," he said quietly. His voice was deep, soothing in my ear. I closed my eyes, leaning against him and letting his warmth slowly fill me. "My partner betrayed me. I had to shoot her. I trusted her and she tried to kill me." He rubbed my back, slow circles. "I came back and told Lowell I was quitting. I blamed him for what happened. He told me I was tough, that I could handle it."
"I don’t want to be tough," I murmured into his chest.
"I had four years of training that helped me deal with it. Dace, you need help." He lifted my face, his eyes searching mine.
"I need you," I whispered. I was white hot, burning with a need I didn’t know how to control. It was more intense than anything I’d ever experienced. His hands were fire on my back, I was acutely aware of his slightest touch.
I kissed him, with a desperate passion that scared me with the depth of my own need. I wanted something, I didn’t know what, anything that would fill the aching emptiness and pain. Anything to keep me away from the nightmares.
He pushed me back, his hands gentle but firm. He was rejecting me. I started to pull away, to curl up again. He stopped me, holding me still.
"You said you loved me," I said, hurt by his rejection.
"I love you too much to take adva
ntage of you, Dace. Don’t do something you’ll regret later."
"Tayvis?" My voice came out shaking, a scared child.
He kissed my forehead. "Talk to the techs, Dace. Let them help you sort out what’s in your head before you make any decisions."
He pushed me into the chair, a gentle nudge. He walked out. I started shaking, I was burning and shivering at the same time. I put my head down on the table and cried.
It didn’t last long, I was surprised I wasn’t out of tears yet. I turned my head, pillowing it on my arms. I wasn’t surprised to see Lowell sitting across from me.
"What do you want from me, Lowell?" There was no heat in the words, no more anger. I was apathetic now. I didn’t care what happened. I couldn’t make myself care.
"Talk to me, Dace." That was it, a simple statement.
Ghost bumped against my leg. I shifted back and she jumped into my lap. I stroked the gray fur, so soft, so light, so warm, so alive.
"Most of my agents don’t come already scarred," Lowell said. "Most don’t fight those trying to help. They aren’t as tough, either. Or as strong."
"I’m Dace," I whispered to myself. My mantra, the one thing that kept me going in the orphanage. "I’m tough, I can do anything. I can survive." The words were hollow, empty of meaning. "I used to repeat that to myself at the orphanage. It used to help."
"Tell me."
I met his eyes. I expected him to have his mask in place, his expression to be mild and unreadable. It was anything but. I saw the naked pain in his own eyes, years of regret, and a compassion that disarmed me. I dropped my gaze back to the cat.
"Why do you care about me, Lowell?"
"I never married, I never had a daughter. If I did, I would want her to be like you."
I laughed, a short bark of sound. "No, you wouldn’t."
"I envy Darus."
I looked back up at him.
"He has a right to claim you as his daughter. No one questioned his motives when he tried to protect you. I care about you, Dace, whether you believe it or not."