by Hanna, K. T.
“With or without a patrol?”
“Completely alone and without even a handler.”
Mathur straightens his back to look at Dom, a quizzical expression on his face. “That’s odd.”
“Reconnaissance,” Dael interjects quietly. “Hounds are not historically attached to anything. They’re just a result of experiments gone very wrong. They weren’t as lucky as we are.”
Dom learns something new every day. “They just hang around the patrols for the hell of it?”
Dael shrugs, the gesture still stilted enough to show their origin, but getting better. “Not really. There is a draw to the sheer power the Damascus represent. Pack-like behavior.”
“Makes sense.” Dom takes the tool offered wordlessly by Mathur and walks over to inspect the work being done with the kernel fusion. He holds one of the receiving wires out of the way so it’s easier for his creator to work under it. “Sai is having an abrasion checked by Jeffries.”
“Sick?” The concern in Dael’s voice is real. They’re adjusting already.
“Got too close to a Hound. Has abrasions all down the upper part of her body that are bothering her. Wanted a dermal amplifier.” Dom continues to make minuscule progress with the task he set in front of him.
Mathur straightens. “I will check on her.”
By the time Dom looks up, he’s already gone.
Dom is in the navigation deck when the alarms go off. He blinks and pushes down the overwhelming shadows that try to leak into his mind. “Do we know which Mobile is being attacked?”
Evan, formerly domino Thirty-Five, monitors the incoming frequencies until he nods in response. “Lambda, sir.”
Dom acknowledges the information as Evan resets the alarms, just in time for Mason, Mathur, James, and Jeffries to pour into the room. “Do we have a team strong enough to not take Sai and Aishke?”
Mason nods. “I’ll take Darrien and the group he’s been working with. We should have enough.”
“Didn’t we say that last time?” Dom mutters the words, but knows everyone hears them. It’s quiet enough in the room to hear a pin drop. It shouldn’t matter, though—learning curve or not, if they keep losing people at the current rate, there will be no one left to fight the GNW.
Mason moves closer, his gait hitching slightly as he does, and Dom berates himself for being snarky.
“We can do this, Dom. Don’t worry.” Mason means the words to be kind, Dom can see it in his eyes, but all it does is cause the parasite to rise up more, feeding the anger and confusion and making it so Dom can barely keep himself in check.
Mason is deteriorating, and asking him to do so much constantly is going to be the death of him. But Dom nods and watches Mason for just a second before replying, “What choice do we have?”
James motions for two of his guards to accompany him as he walks out the door to begin preparations. Dom watches him go, mind racing at a hundred miles per hour. Why were the Damascus moving away from them?
“You’re thinking it, too, aren’t you?” Mason asks quietly as he skims over the report.
Dom shakes his head. “I’m thinking of far more than that.”
Mason scowls. “You really need to stop eavesdropping.”
“I’m not—not really. It’s nothing I do deliberately. I can shut you all out if I need to, but that isn’t the point.” He rocks back on his heels for a moment, frowning. “It almost feels like a trap. I don’t like traps.”
“I know few people who do.” The strain in Mason’s voice is telling because he lets a glimpse of defeat escape his control.
The silence between them grows uncomfortable. Dom begins to squirm a little. It’s much easier to share silence with Bastian and Sai because he knows them like he knows himself. He’s almost relieved when Mason speaks again.
“Why not send Aishke?”
“They work best as a team, and Sai needs to relax for once.”
Mason laughs softly. “You’re very protective of her.”
Dom glares at him before counting to ten to calm himself, pushing the parasite from his mind. “I took her legs from her. Protection is the least I can do.”
Mason reaches out a hand, but pulls it back just before he touches Dom’s arm. “Sai is stronger than you’re giving her credit for.” He pauses, then he nods once before leaving.
Dom clenches his fists and fights back this strange sense of overwhelming frustration. “I have to go and see Kayde,” he announces but doesn’t wait for a response from Mathur or Evan. There’s something nagging at him, and Dom has the distinct feeling that waiting will be the death of them all.
“Do you ever sleep?” Dom asks, leaning against the doorframe to the lab. He watches as Kayde looks up with bleary eyes and blinks. Twice.
“Ah, Dom. Have at it.” She gestures to her hair that sticks out of a haphazard bun at spikey angles. It’s like she’s waiting for him to quip at her.
Dom finally understands the urge to bite one’s tongue. “Believe it or not, I’m not here for that.”
Kayde’s expression softens. “There’s no audience here at the moment anyway.” There’s a tinge of sadness not only in her voice, but in the way her eyes tear up briefly, in the sag to her shoulders.
Dom watches the strange change to her. “You’re worried about something?”
Kayde keeps studying the specimen under her microscope. “You are always so observant, Dom.”
Despite not knowing exactly where he stands with her, Dom knows Kayde is the reason they have more than just a chance. She’s the reason they’ve been as successful as they have been with infiltration. “Want to talk about it?”
Kayde glances up from the microscope, a slight smile tugging at her lips. She seems tired, rundown, and yet somehow composed. “It would take more time than we have. I’m just struggling with my many hats and with being stuck in a lab while my friends are dying.”
Dom raises his eyebrows. “Sai isn’t dying. It’s just an abrasion.”
Kayde laughs. “I know she’s fine—she’s stronger than that. But she’s not what I’m worrying about.”
Dom relaxes a tad and frowns. “Everyone else is.” It comes out almost like a grumble, and Dom wonders for a moment what it is about other people fussing over Sai that makes him irritable.
“Sai is stronger than most of us. But Iria…” And as she says the name, Kayde’s voice breaks slightly and she looks away, over at the pile of readers in a corner. When she turns back to Dom, he can see the tears brimming in her eyes have shed a couple of drops, and her face holds a sadness he can’t even fathom.
“Iria is gone. Trikel is gone. Whole Mobile settlements are gone. How many more of us before this is over, Dom?” She clips the slide out from under the microscope, and Dom can hear it crack as she slams it on the table. “How many dominos will we lose? We’ve already lost one and it didn’t even have a name!”
Her breath comes in a quick, fast, almost pained cadence, and she slams her fist into the table this time. “I’m not like you. I’m not like Sai. I can’t channel this through physical exertion. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t unload. I’ll get the Ebony for you.”
She turns to go, and Dom reaches out to catch her arm. Her eyes open wide as she’s swung slightly to face him, and he squeezes in what he hopes is a reassuring manner.
“You’re doing more important things so we can complete what we all set out to do. What you accomplish?” And he makes sure she’s focused directly on him before he finished. “Makes sure that no one’s death will be in vain.”
Kayde sucks in a breath that’s more like a gasp, and several tears snake their way down her face. When she speaks, her voice is stronger and her jaw sets stubbornly. “You’re right, and it’s what I can do, so I’ll do it well. Thank you.”
“Of course,” he says, hands back by his side, a strangely warm feeling emanating from the center of his chest. It feels like there should be more, though, as he watches Kayde retrieve the canisters for distribution, handling
them delicately.
“I’m sorry for your pain,” Dom adds because somehow it seems appropriate.
Kayde actually smiles softly. “Thanks, Dom. I realize this stuff is difficult for you.” She folds the canisters neatly into padded containers marked with PC numbers and then drops them into a huge bag. “You’ll need to come back for the last few before you leave. I’m almost done with them.”
He takes the bags off her and feels extremely awkward. “Thanks.
This time Kayde laughs. She claps her hands together and smiles brightly. “Do you need something else?”
“No, not really.” Dom looks around, glad that the emotional moments seem to be in the past. He pauses at the door and grins, suddenly liking Kayde a lot more than before. “I came down with the explicit intent to torment you, but you’re right. It’s just not as fun without an audience.”
He can still hear her laughter halfway down the hall.
Dom is loading the first batch of Ebony into Mele’s hold when the salvage mission returns. He pokes his head out and catches James’s eye. “You’re back rather early.”
“It was closer than we thought.” He glances at the transport as two of his men are carried out on gurneys. “There were some Damascus left over to stand guard. Got a couple of my men before we could destroy them.” He scowls and turns to Dom. “Tell me Mathur has that infernal device ready? I’m sick of mopping up the bits and pieces of my friends and their kids.”
“We all are.” Dom puts his hands up in front of him and waits for James to sigh and crick his neck from side to side.
“I know.” James runs a hand through his spikey hair. “I’ll go brief them.”
Dom watches him walk away, an echo of melancholy drifting back to him.
For some reason Dom keeps finding himself waiting—waiting for a huge explosion again, like the one Ash caused when she pulled in on herself while practicing. Sometimes it seems like they’re just fighting fire with fire. Which, despite the old human saying, has never made much sense. Shouldn’t you fight fire with water or maybe suffocation?
He hears Mathur and Dael coming long before they get there, but somehow can’t solve the conundrum in his head. When he turns to greet his visitors, he asks. “Why fight fire with fire?”
Mathur blinks. “What?”
“Why fight fire with the same thing? Why not water? It doesn’t make sense.”
Mathur stifles a laugh. “You have always tried to make sense out of clichés. There is no sense to be had—it is why they are clichéd.”
“You make no sense either,” Dom grumbles and gets back to storing his cargo. One more day. Dael silently helps him. No questions, no communication, and no fuss. Dom could get used to this.
“You’re heading out at dusk tomorrow?”
Dom nods.
“Dael will help you prepare. There are some elements of Mele they would like to inspect, as they are developing a prototype plan for a similar transport.” Mathur’s smile is wide, jolly almost.
Dom glances at his sibling and grins. “Got it all figured out?”
Dael smiles back. “More than I thought I would. Although, I confess, sometimes when I talk with people, I feel like I mimic them. As if I’m trying to copy part of them and become it.”
“It isn’t mimicry.” Dom shakes his head to try and lend emphasis. “It’s your way of learning. You’ll take bits and pieces from everyone you meet and then, at some stage, hone it into your very own personality. I know I did.”
Dael nods, their face crinkling in what must be concentration. “That explains a lot of things and makes my mind feel less conflicted.” They pull up the last set of cylinders gently and deposit them in the hold securely next to the others. “I will have those schematics to you tonight. Mele needs a tune-up, so Evan and I will tweak her before you leave, if that is acceptable.”
“Perfect.” Dom closes Mele’s door and watches Dael leave the room with a purposeful stride.
“It is like they have a new lease on life.” Mathur’s voice is soft enough that it’s unlikely Dael can hear him.
“Amazing.” Dom frowns, several thoughts battling in his mind for dominance as he turns to face Mathur. “Have they all adjusted this well?
Mathur shakes his head. “Only Evan and Dael so far. But the rest are still…finding their footing. It is a process.”
Dom runs the words through his head. It definitely was a process for him when he was younger. To think they all should have gone through this, but he was the only one lucky enough to have accomplished it earlier. Probably because Mathur left him to fend for himself.
“So…” Mathur claps his hands. “I need you to do something for me.”
Dom crosses his arms and leans against Mele. “Do tell.”
Mathur opens his mouth, and clears his throat before turning back to his son. “Mason gets a distinct impression from Sai’s dream that there should be a way for you to slip in there and actually speak to Bastian. It’s going to be dangerous, but it’s going to be necessary. We have to know, Dom.”
“Know what?”
“If these messages are really coming from him in the dreams or if they have some way of connecting through him and screwing with Sai.” Mathur looks directly at him, waiting for an answer.
“You think they could be hijacking his telepathy and…” Suddenly it dawns on Dom. All those people chained up in the labs, strapped to their beds as the last psionic and life energies are drained from their bodies. What’s stopping them from doing that to Bastian and using him to contact the Exiled? “I get it. Using him. They could be using him in an entirely different way than normal. Even if it’s highly unlikely.” Dom can’t help the building aggression. The parasite coaxes his anger, his uncertainty, trying to bait him into the red zone.
Mathur’s brow furrows. “It is more of a worst-case scenario, but a possibility nevertheless. If it is not too much trouble?”
Dom levels a glare at his creator. “Sarcastic old bastard.”
Mathur shrugs. “True, but at least I am honest.”
“To a fault.” Dom pushes away and flexes. He dislikes staying in one place too long. “I get it. Load Mele, check on Bastian, and then complete the rest of the mission, correct?”
“Correct.”
“We’ll leave tomorrow morning.” Dom smiles despite himself.
“Will Sai be well enough?” Mathur’s concern is sweet.
Dom shakes his head. “I really don’t know. But we have to get going, so she has to be well enough.”
It doesn’t take Dom long to find Dael and Evan. They’re both in one of the conference rooms that was sequestered for domino quarters after the first infiltration of Central.
For a few moments he just stands at the door, feeling slightly awkward and awed at the same time. The other dominos seem so…close.
“You going to stand there all day or come in?” Evan doesn’t even look up, but a ripple of amusement spreads quickly through the room. Even Dom feels it.
As he moves closer, he can see all of the numbers on the upper left of their chests, near their shoulders. They’re fainter than they were, like they have to erase their old identities and it’ll take some time to realize their true selves.
Thirty-Two, Nineteen and Twenty-One are helping Dael and Evan. Without turning around, Dael introduces them as Erin, Nate, and Joe accordingly. When Dom stops, mulling the last name over, Dael laughs. “We know, but he liked Joe. Not exactly the most memorable name.”
“No name is until we have a reason to remember it for,” Dom murmurs before really thinking about it.
“Too true.” Dael goes back to fiddling with the transport engine components in front of them.
Dom watches in fascination as Dael shapes their fingers in ways that reflect tools. “What are you doing?”
“Figuring out a few things to help modify the current transports better for daylight travel.”
The atmosphere in the room is calm, but excited somehow—it’s catching.
“You head out in the morning.” Dael doesn’t ask the question, merely states the fact, but the way they wait in silence makes Dom think they really wanted confirmation.
“Yes. We do.”
“How is Sai?” asks Evan, this time looking up from his work, an odd sort of smile on his face. It takes Dom a second to realize it’s probably supposed to be concern. Not quite there yet.
“She’s fine. She’s healed up enough and will be fit to travel.”
“I didn’t mean the scarring. I meant her mental state.”
Silence descends on the room for a few seconds. A few seconds which are truly uncomfortable for Dom. “I don’t…”
“Oh, sorry.” Evan bows his head and Dael steps in.
“What he means is…” They pause briefly. “When we could hear more than just feel like we can now—she was special. Something about her. She never treated you like everyone else did. Never has treated us with the fear and loathing we see in other’s eyes. Whether it’s a remnant of people’s hostilities toward our cousins or not—Sai has never held anything against us, especially you.”
Dael pauses, as if gathering their words, and Dom wonders if they realize how well they’re using contractions. “Sai is special to all of us. Not only because of how she is, but what she represents: an understanding. We can tell that she’s hurting and scared.”
“How?” Dom knew he could—he’d always been able to—but he wasn’t sure how the rest of them were able to do so.
Evan opens his mouth and closes it before deciding to speak. “You. We can feel it because you notice it.”
“We were connected once.” Dael lets the words, the full realization hang in the air. “Just because they didn’t understand what they were doing with the communications channels doesn’t mean they completely misunderstood our abilities. Part of the psionic DNA extracted for us is telepathy. There’s really nothing they can do to change that.”
“And the adrium only funnels that.” Dom smiles tightly with the realization that he should have noticed this much earlier. It makes him worry about what’s happening to Sai. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”