by LC Morgans
“I don’t want you to go,” he admitted, and pulled her to one side before they climbed aboard. “I love you so much, and part of me thinks I’ll go mad knowing you're far away. Even thinking about you spending your days with all those geeks doesn’t stop me from exploding with jealousy. I keep imagining you and some clever scientist getting to know each other, and you falling for him. It makes me want to puke even thinking about the day you might call and say we’re over.”
Kyra was in utter shock. He’d never spoken this way about his feelings, and now she knew why. Despite the tough-guy exterior, Silas desperately needed her affection to keep him steady. He’d been the same over and over again throughout their relationship, but she hadn’t seen it before. When things were on his terms, there'd been no need for him to press the issue. She’d been the one following his lead all the way, but now the dynamic was changing, and he was evidently feeling vulnerable.
“If you believe I’d do that, then you need to re-evaluate our relationship,” she told him. “Never have I so much as looked at another man since you. My passion and drive is otherwise focused solely on my career, so I suggest you pull your head out of your ass and see what’s right in front of you.” It was her turn to get angry now, but she forced it aside and took his face in her hands. “Me, in case you didn’t realize. I’m here right now, and for the foreseeable future. If that changes, then we’ll deal with it, but don’t ruin what we are because of your fears of what we might end up being.”
Silas seemed genuinely shocked. His eyes bore into hers, and Kyra lost herself in his gaze. “If you push me away, you’ll never know what we might’ve been. Don’t ruin us by tormenting yourself with the what if’s, just let it be,” she added.
“All I see is you, Kyra. All I want is you. Nothing else matters, just us. I’m sorry,” he replied, and laid a kiss on her cheek over the X shaped scar and she had to force herself not to flinch. She’d never liked him touching it, but it wasn’t because it hurt or anything, it was because that mark still belonged to someone else—even after all this time.
After a couple of minutes spent stealing one last kiss, they were aboard the bus and on their way back to base. Another year of training was due to begin, and no matter where they ended up, Kyra somehow knew whatever happened was meant to be. Now twenty years old, she had no doubt she loved Silas, but also that they were still very young and had a long way ahead of them yet. She would never rush or throw her dreams away for his benefit, and didn’t care if it made her selfish or wrong. It didn’t feel greedy to want what was best for her own life ahead of any others, nor did it feel wrong earning those merits through her hard work and resilience. If it was, she didn’t need to be right.
***
“I’m late,” Brona mumbled into her coffee a few mornings into the next round of training, and she stared at her with tears in her eyes. “Over a week. What do I do?” she implored, and Kyra’s heart ached for her dear friend. She wasn’t sure there was much Brona could do, and guessed telling the truth might be the only option she had. These kinds of secrets had a way of exploding at the worst possible moment, and as much as it was wonderful news, Kyra wanted to shake her for having been more careful.
“You need to speak with Lt. Psy, but he might halt your career if you drop out of secondary training now.” She was trying to make Brona’s options clear, while still being honest and gentle with her clearly worried friend. “Would you keep it if you were, you know?” she asked, and Brona nodded in response.
“Jett would take care of us, I know it. But, I’ll be gutted if I had to drop out now. What do I do?” she seemed so lost, and Kyra knew she needed her strength to keep her head clear.
“Get a test, you need to know for sure. If you are pregnant we’ll go and see Psy together and find out what your options are. Okay?”
“Okay,” Brona replied, and she seemed better already. There were so many advances in birth control nowadays this shouldn’t have happened, and she wanted to kick them for being another statistic. Kyra bit her tongue though, and gave her friend a supportive squeeze while they packed up their breakfast bowls. They went their separate ways to training, and Kyra was glad she could help even just a tiny bit. She spent the better part of that morning wondering if Brona had done the test or not, and when lunchtime came around she sped straight to the canteen to find her. Brona was nowhere to be seen, so she tried her room, but still nothing. Kyra was on her way to the Medical Division’s training center when one of the students stopped her.
“Brona’s been rushed into surgery,” the young girl informed her, and Kyra stared at her open-mouthed. “She collapsed in class and was taken for investigation, next thing we heard she was having surgery, but no one knows why.”
“Does Jett know?” she asked, and the girl nodded.
“He’s with her. West wing of the female ward,” the girl added, seemingly knowing that would’ve been Kyra’s next question. She thanked her and ran as fast as she could to the ward. On her way, Silas intercepted her. He was about to ask why she hadn’t gone to lunch, when realization swept over his puzzled face.
“What’s happened?” he asked, grabbing her tight.
“Brona…. She’s not well,” Kyra told him, and was almost unable to come to terms with it herself. Her mind was racing with what if’s and how’s, and she knew she just needed to get to her friend. Silas let her go, and followed her lead straight into the medical building and up to the ward. A nurse directed them to Brona’s room, but she hovered outside, unsure if it was her place to go in unannounced. Kyra knocked, and waited for an agonizing few minutes until Jett popped his head out and joined them in the hall.
“Hey,” he said groggily, and Kyra hugged him instinctively. She hadn’t cared for many people in her life, but Brona was one of those she held most dear, and the sheer thought of her in pain was heart-wrenching. Everything in her wanted to scream at Jett to hurry up and say something, but instead she kept a tight hold on him, silently willing for the words she knew were agonizing for him to say. “She thought she might be pregnant, but it turns out she was far from it.” His voice faltered, and Kyra quickly directed Jett to a nearby seat. “Some kind of infection. They’ve given her a full hysterectomy.”
“Oh no,” she replied, instinctively putting her hand over her lower abdomen, where a twinge niggled from within, as though her body was crying out in sympathy for her friend. “How is she?”
“Not great. She’s gone from planning a family, to having to deal with the realization she’ll never have one. I don’t know how to ease her pain,” he replied honestly, and she hugged him again.
“You can’t possibly understand where her head is at. Just be there for her and deal with the torment alongside her. Stay here and take a breath, I’ll go in,” she offered, and Jett seemed grateful for the chance to take a break. Silas told her he’d let her superiors know she’d be out for the rest of the afternoon, and while she was glad, a pang of fear rang in her gut. She’d make up for the missed hours and then some, she knew it, but for now she had to prioritize her friend’s needs over her training. No matter how determined she was to succeed for herself, there were evidently moments that were more important than those plans, and now was one of them.
She pushed open the door and crept inside the small room. Brona lay asleep on the bed, wrapped in white linens so symbolic of hospitals. She looked pale and weak, and stirred only when Kyra took her hand and sat down.
Brona burst into tears, and not a single word was said as Kyra climbed up onto the bed and held her in her arms. They cried together for a long time, and she only let go when Brona stopped clinging on so tightly. She hadn’t needed to say a word, and was simply there for her heartbroken friend in a way that needed no words or promises, any reasoning or bargaining. Silent grief overwhelmed them both, and it was a long time before either said a word.
“I’ll never be a mother. I’ll never give Jett a family or hold my own child in my arms. In what world is that okay?” she ask
ed, and Kyra got the impression her question was rhetorical, so simply held on tight and let her grieve.
She continued to hold Brona for what felt like hours, and only let go when Jett and Silas came to find them. Kyra and Jett swapped places, and she didn’t envy him the task of nursing Brona back to health. She would be there as much as possible, of course, but knew it wasn’t her place to be there through the thick and thin of it. She just hoped Jett was up to the task. On their way out of the medical building, hers and Silas’ fight was long forgotten. When times were hard the silly little things had a habit of falling away, and only the most important stayed behind. She stumbled, fell, and then cried in his arms when he caught her, and Silas didn’t leave her side all night, regardless of the rules they'd both promised to adhere to. Certain circumstances called for certain measures, and she was glad he didn’t leave her alone.
Kyra threw herself into work to distract her from the awful news. During her downtime she spent hours relaxing with Brona in the hospital while she healed. She never once tried to tell her she’d be fine, or that it was for the best. Instead, she spent every visit reminding Brona of why she loved her job, and the reasons she’d joined the army. Her love of life, and ferocity of spirit were what’d brought her to this base, and by reminding her of that passion, Kyra helped her mend a part of her heart that’d been broken. Brona eventually went back to her training, a little more lost and quiet than before, but on her way back to being her old self for sure. There might never be the full smile she once had, or the twinkle in her eye when she laughed loudly, but she was coping, and routine was good for her.
“Who can tell me some of the physiological differences between humans and Thraks?” Sentinel Gron asked the class a few weeks back into their second year.
Many obvious answers were given regarding the height and strength differences they'd already covered, but other than that her classmates seemed surprisingly uninformed.
“Thrakorian’s age much slower than humans,” she said, after raising her hand and Gron had given her a nod.
“That’s right, our bodies are healthier and stronger in ways that far surpass human evolution. We age slower, heal faster and have a larger brain capacity.” He then went on to tell them a little more about their race, and Kyra wondered why they needed to learn about their differences beneath the skin. Thrakorian’s were a genetic distant-cousin of sorts to humans, but they’d seemingly got all the good parts, and she kind of felt like Gron was simply giving another lesson on how much better Thraks were than them. She wondered why they’d bothered keeping them alive, training and urging their society to thrive and better itself at all. There were too many things that didn’t seem to add up, and her code-breaking brain didn’t like being left in the dark. Kyra had to remind herself that she was nobody, and that any details Gron was purposely leaving out must be for reasons far above her station. She also knew her sadness was creeping into her work, and guessed her impudence regarding his self-important lessons was wearing her patience thin.
In contrast to their first year when she’d welcomed the break from hours spent behind a computer screen, this year was the opposite. Whenever they’d completed their sessions spent with the Thrakorian teacher, Kyra felt relieved to head back into the computer suite to get back to their technological training. They'd moved on from older style machines to state-of-the-art systems with a wide variety of features and advances, and this was where she felt she belonged. They spent the afternoon running through a simulated program that required the use of special gloves, rather than a mouse or keyboard. Using their hands to direct and zoom in, the trainees watched via cameras mounted on the heads of computerized ground troops as they sought out a rebel stronghold. They were informed that the footage wasn’t real, but each decision they made might either progress and infiltrate the rebels successfully, or lead their soldiers into an ambush. As Intelligence soldiers they had to be sure of their decisions, and of the consequences should their instinct be wrong.
Even though she knew it wasn’t real, Kyra took the simulation as seriously as if she was assisting a real team. She imagined Silas being beneath the mounted camera, and knew she would do everything she could to ensure the success of his mission and his safe return to base. After having been taught the correct tactical terminology for the program, they began their first exercise in the imaginary field.
“The objective is to investigate unnoticed, get as close to the camp as possible undetected, and then attack with precision and as few casualties as possible,” Gron told them. “Don’t try and tell them how to fight or anything like that, imagine these are experienced soldiers. Your role is intelligence; you're looking through their eyes in search of clues and intel. You're after answers, not blood.”
Kyra watched the desk intently, and had to stifle her gasp when the flat screen seemed to lift up and come to life before her eyes. She was immersed in a virtual world, running along and watching the scene as though she were really there, while her hands worked fast to move her focus around at the markings on the walls and the onlookers around the scene, where she searched for anything that might seem out of place. When she found a symbol carved into a wooden shutter, she spoke.
“Cease,” she said, and her command immediately halted the troops. She then reached up with her right hand and pinched her thumb and forefinger over the symbol, and then opened her hand again to zoom in. There seemed to be a similarity to another she’d seen a few feet back, but this one had the number twelve emblazoned atop it. “Time check, please.” The simulated soldier lifted its wrist, and showed her it was almost noon. “Forward.” She knew she needn’t say more, and always tried to remember Gron’s words about knowing her place in the mission. During a live patrol, the soldier’s would have both tactical and intelligence operatives in their ears, and too much chatter was off-putting. Simple commands that took no time to process and allow them on their way were what she had to provide, otherwise she’d let them all down if they failed due to her timewasting. She spotted another marking, and another. Soon the trail turned west, and so did their platoon. “Turn into the alley,” she commanded exactly two minutes later, and they did as she told them. “Cease, and stay hidden. Time check?” It was one-minute before noon, and exactly sixty-seconds later, a group of what looked like civilian humans tore their way down the road her troops had just been in. They were rebels though, Kyra could tell by the patches sewn into their jackets, and she also knew they would’ve quickly taken out her platoon if she hadn’t ordered for them to hide.
When the men and women had gathered together and gone, she took her computerized unit further into the area, where they discovered the rebels, took them out with stealth and accuracy, and then obliterated their entire congregation. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real, her work was sound and her methods worked well. Kyra’s confidence was growing, as was her skill, and she felt bad for having let her upset over everything with Brona come between her and her training.
The simulation then ended, and Kyra lowered her hands, but wished she could do it all over again.
“Well done, Millan. Nice work realizing the numbers were timings,” Gron told her, and she thanked him. She then watched as the others finished their simulations, and was pleased she hadn’t taken too long or failed like some had. This was what she wanted, there was no doubt in her mind, and Kyra let herself daydream about someday working in one of the huge operational skyscrapers around the world overseeing missions like this for real. Her heart raced with excitement at the sheer thought, and she was filled with renewed ambition.
Chapter
Thirteen
By over halfway through her second year, Kyra was studying day and night in anticipation for her final secondary exam in a few months time. They’d covered almost their entire syllabus, and Capt. Quinn was now using the time to go over their work again in summary, while introducing them to some of the more obscure insider secrets behind their ruler’s reign.
“This little beauty,” she
said, pulling a small creature that looked like a squid from a vase of water on the front desk. “Is a creatura. Who knows what that is?”
Blank faces greeted her, and she seemed pleased to discover that no one was any the wiser. She was being careful to hold it by its back, and they quickly learned why. “I need a volunteer…” Capt. Quinn pointed to one of the students in the front row. He stood and joined her, but clearly wasn’t pleased at having been chosen for the demonstration. She placed the creatura on his arm, and its tentacle-like limbs made immediate contact. He hissed but kept still, and they all watched enthralled as their teacher took his cheeks in her hands. She turned his face down to meet hers, and watched for a few seconds before opening her mouth. “Tell me a secret,” she then asked.
“When I was twelve I stole rations from my sister, and I didn’t care when she went hungry. I did it so often she got too skinny, and I had to stop.” He seemed surprised at his answer, and clearly had no control over the words leaving his mouth.
Quinn then released him, pried away the creatura’s tentacles, and chose another recruit, and another. They each had the same reaction he’d had, and gave up a secret they seemed embarrassed or ashamed to admit.
“I wet the bed until I was fifteen,” one of the young men answered, and he was met with sniggers from the others.
“I’m in love with Sofia,” another man answered, and he turned a shade of crimson Kyra had never seen before. It was funny watching the students offload a secret or two, but she breathed a sigh of relief when the creature was put away, and wondered what she might’ve answered if pulled up in front of the others.
“The longer they stay connected to you, the more secrets you will reveal. These creatura’s were created by Thrakorian scientists, and are one of the best methods of interrogation we have access to. They are invaluable in the use of extracting information from rebels,” Quinn told them.