by K. A. Finn
Milla pulls herself out of her wandering thoughts and back to the current conversation. 'What? Yeah. Sorry. Why don't you start at the beginning? I'm not quite following the conversation.'
'Your leader is considering having his implants upgraded so he can fight these new cyborgs.'
Milla blows out a long breath as she focuses on her desk. Terra looks across at Chayse. His attention is on the floor at his feet.
'Say something. Did you not hear what I just said?'
'We heard you, Terra,' Chayse replies.
'So, that's it? Nothing to say?'
Milla leans forward and clasps her hands together. 'I'm as thrilled as you are about this, but it's an option.'
'Option? It's not an option, Milla. I can't believe you're saying that. Chayse, you agree with me.'
'Hey, Milla isn't saying she agrees or disagrees with anything. It's his choice though. What we want isn't going to influence his decision. We all have first-hand experience with his stubbornness. No matter what we think, if this is what he wants to do, there's damn all any of us can do to stop him.' He gets up and crosses the room to kiss Milla. 'I've got other things to do. See you later.'
Milla takes his place on the couch and holds Terra's hand in hers. 'I'm giving you my professional opinion, Terra. Gryffin is dying. There is absolutely nothing more I can do for him. I'd give anything for that not to be the case, but it's the harsh reality. Realistically, having his implants upgraded and adding some additional ones could stabilise his system.'
'If he has the modifications, what then?'
'What do you mean?'
'Do we lose him anyway? Will he be nothing more than a programmable machine?'
'Stabilising the implant will save him from any further deterioration. He'll be alive.'
'You didn't answer my question.'
Milla rolls her eyes. 'Fine. Okay, yes, there's a fair chance he'll be different. Terra, he's not saying this is definitely going to happen. It's just an option. Nothing more. You and I both know he'd consider almost anything if it means he doesn't have to go down that route again. He's being a leader, Terra. Keeping all his options open.'
'I'm not an idiot, Milla. I know he's... I just can't... I can't lose him to more implants. Not that.'
Milla wraps her arms around Terra and pulls her close. 'Hey, there are a lot of super talented people working to stop that from happening, okay. For now, the best thing you can do is be there for him. Whatever decision he makes, he'll need you by his side.'
'Yeah, that may not be entirely true. I don't think we're talking to each other.'
'What? Again? I thought you just made up?'
Terra sighs and drops her head back against the cushion behind her. 'I told him I want to be considered when he makes these life changing decisions. Apparently that's not the way things work. He's the Nomad High Commander first. That leaves our relationship taking a distant second. I may have stormed out of the room.
'Why does this keep happening, Milla? We can barely get through two days without one or both of us saying the wrong thing. I feel like we're going around in circles. I don't want whatever time we have left to...' Terra closes her eyes and looks away.
Milla has never felt more helpless in her life. If they were in Foundation space, she'd be able to help Gryffin. Watching her commanding officer getting weaker by the day is horrible.
She's only been a Nomad for a few weeks, but she'd quickly adapted to his style of command. He didn't her give much of a choice, but she found it refreshing. Milla's always been a black and white kind of girl. The blurred lines of the Foundation had been driving her out of her mind for years. It only hit her after seeing how the Nomad run their ships.
On a Nomad vessel there was no wondering how well you were doing your job. No weight of uncertainty on her shoulders. The Foundation had a habit of reassigning people instead of giving them any feedback. The first you knew you weren't pulling your weight was when you found yourself in a new role without a heads up. On Gryffin's ships, you knew pretty damn quick if you'd stepped out of line.
Chayse ran Nemesis the same way - although with a little less attitude. She loved her new life and loved being a Nomad. With Gryffin's fast approaching demise hanging over the group, things had taken a sombre tone.
Desyl didn't want to take command of Ares. He'd flat out refused. With the future of the flagship clouded in doubt, the group was weakening. She could see it. Chayse could see it. No doubt Gryffin could too, but with him stuck in a cell there's not a damn thing any of them could do. They were in limbo.
Like Terra. They were all living from day to day, waiting to see how much longer the High Commander would be with them.
'Listen, it's a shite situation for everyone. You've got an argumentative, awkward, bull-headed, grumpy git locked in a cell. He's angry and frustrated about what's happening to him. In near constant agony thanks to his implants. Worried about the future of the Nomad. I'd imagine scared shitless about his future. Quite possibly going stir crazy being locked in a cell instead of rampaging across the Sector. I'd also bet a fair amount of credits he's worried sick about you.
'Mix all that fun with what's going on with you and it doesn't paint a happy-go-lucky picture. I'm not surprised you're both stressed and irritable. I know we've all said this to you, but maybe some time apart will do you both a world of good. I'm damn sure I'd be fit to kill Chayse if we were stuck with each other all the time. You need a break. You both do. When was the last time you got a decent night's sleep in a bed?'
Terra grimaces. 'Not sure.'
'Well there's a shock. You're exhausted.' Milla stands up and holds out her hand. 'C'mon.'
'Where are we going?'
'You are going back to Ares to get an overnight bag. Then you are coming to my quarters. You will have a ridiculously long shower while I prepare - well, collect from the mess, a banquet of the finest Ultaran fare. We will eat and we will drink,' she adds with a wink. 'And then, my friend, you will sleep all the damn night in a proper bed.'
'That sounds great, but—'
Milla shakes her head as she grabs Terra's hand. 'Nope. Do not go there. I'll make sure Desyl sits with Gryffin. He'll be fine. Nothing's going to happen to him. I promise.' Milla stops at the door and squeezes Terra's hand. 'Hey, I promise. All you'll miss is him sleeping and possibly some scintillating conversation.' Milla snorts. 'Not bloody likely. Seriously, Terra. He'll be absolutely fine. You need to take care of yourself. Now skedaddle. I expect you to be in the shower by the time I get back with food.'
Terra nods and walks towards the hangar. Milla stares after her and rubs her hands together. 'Right, Gryffin. Time you and me had a little chat.'
ULTAR
Milla lowers onto the seat opposite Gryffin and makes a point of picking fluff from her trousers. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to seeing a woman wearing the Nomad uniform. Milla is the first and only official female Nomad. Desyl was sorting through some of the ex-inmates from the Foundation prisons - male and female, to see if any would fit the Nomad group. Judging by the last report he got, Milla may not be alone for long. He has to admit, she was a solid fit. She even looks the part in her black leather trousers and black t-shirt.
He leaves her to her delaying tactics. He knows exactly why Milla is here and he's not in the mood to go over it all again with someone else. 'Do I need to order you to stop stalling?'
'Stalling? Whatever do you mean, sir?'
'Just get it over with so I can get back to staring at the corner in peace.'
'Busted.' She sighs and crosses her legs as she waves her arms theatrically in the air in front of her. 'Picture this scene. There I was, minding my own business, busy doing my reports for you, when your other half bursts into my room - literally I might add - all in a tizzy.'
He cocks an eyebrow. 'My other what?'
She raises her eyes to the ceiling. 'I really must give you guys a crash course on everyday slang.'
'What's a tizzy?'
'
Never mind. I meant Terra and she was more than a little upset.'
He looks towards the edge of the bunk. 'Right.'
'Is that all you've got to say? She thinks your implants may have fried a little too much of your brain.' She pauses and tilts her head to the side as she examines him. 'Somehow, I get the impression that's not the case, sir. I know you're really considering this as a serious option. Are you sure you want to go down this path?'
'I just want another option.'
Milla snorts and slides the chair closer to the cell. 'You know I can see through that tough guy thing you do. Stop being the Nomad High Commander for one minute and attempt to have a normal conversation.'
He glances up at her. 'You like irritating me, don't you?'
She beams widely and winks. 'Girl's gotta get her fun where she can. Especially when there's steel bars between us. Are you going to answer my question with more than a brush off? Having another option isn't a valid response for something this big.'
He slumps back against the bars, giving up on fighting Milla. He doesn't have the energy to go around in circles with her. 'No.'
'No, you're not going to answer or no, you're not sure about going down this path?'
'Second one.' He drops his head against the bars with a dull thud. He only woke up about an hour ago, but he's seriously struggling to stay awake. 'I've been like this for so long. I never thought I'd be anything else.'
'There is a chance we can take more of the implants off. Given a few months, and if Bray can somehow get more data from Alpha, we can probably undo quite a bit of what the Scientist did and rebuild your body.'
He opens his eye and tries to focus on her face, but it's a lost cause. 'Chance, somehow, and probably?'
She grimaces. 'You know more than anyone that when it comes to your implants, there's no certainties.'
'Except that the countdown isn't slowing.'
Milla looks at the ground. 'We all have a countdown, sir.'
'Mine is down to single digits.'
'Believe me, I'd give anything to have positive news for you.'
'But you can't.'
She smiles sadly at him and shakes her head.
He jumps slightly as electricity unexpectedly buzzes out of his metal covered stump. 'I never wanted to be a cyborg, but right now, it may just be what I need to be.'
'You don't have to be a cyborg to defeat the Foundation. Between the Nomad, Hunters, New Foundation, and anyone else we can gather together with a Foundation grudge, we can handle this. No one has to go through that horror again.'
'They based the cyborgs on me, on my mods, Milla. I studied Bray's video over and over.' He taps a finger against the side of his head. 'All the information is in here going around and around. As I am right now I'm useless. There's no way I can beat the new models.'
'You don't know that for sure. I've heard some scary things about you, Gryffin. Ever think you're being a bit hard on yourself?'
'It's fact. I can't win while I'm falling apart.'
'And what makes you think having more procedures, more implants will give you the edge you need?'
'I don't.'
'That's reassuring.'
'It will put me on the same level as them and that can't hurt.'
Milla makes a face. 'It's going to hurt you and the other cyborgs here. I'm not convinced about this, Captain.'
'You don't have to be.'
Milla tucks a leg under herself as she opens and closes her mouth a few times before finally speaking. 'Fair enough, I'll give you that, but you have to realise other people will have an issue with this.'
Gryffin sighs. 'Terra, right?'
Milla laughs. 'Yes, Terra. And Roman. Chayse too. Desyl. Ooh and Aleena.'
'I get it.'
'Lucan would be less than impressed I'm guessing. We can't forget Bray.'
'I said I get it.'
'You're considering having more metal attached to you. Please tell me you're not surprised she's a weensy bit upset.'
'What the Foundation are doing—'
'Isn't on Terra's mind right now. She loves you, Gryffin. Can you really blame her for being terrified she's going to lose you again?'
He gives up on the fight to stay upright and shuffles down the bed. He lies on his side and tries to get comfortable, but everything is aching. 'You think I don't feel the same? I don't want to do this, but it might be our only option. If I decide to do this I sure as hell won't be asking for anyone's support.'
'I'm damn glad to hear that because you'd be hard pressed to find someone who does.' She gets to her feet and stuffs her hands into the back pockets of her leathers. 'Well, I've done my bit for the cause. Now I'm going to do my friend duties and treat your girlfriend to a proper meal and a good night's sleep. Desyl is on his way down. You won't be seeing Terra until the morning.'
'Thanks. She needs a break.'
Milla smiles. 'I'll look after her, sir. Make sure she gets it.'
'I don't need a babysitter. Cancel Desyl.'
'Not a chance in hell, sir. I had a hard enough time convincing her to leave you for the night, even after your best efforts to completely piss her off. Desyl will sit with you.'
He doesn't reply. Instead he gives in to the pull of sleep.
9
FOUNDATION HQ
Garvan takes a deep breath and turns to face the opposite direction. He takes five steps to the far side of his cell and repeats the walk. Thanks to his handiwork on his wound, each step is agony and helps convince more blood to ooze out of it. He probably should be lying down but staring at the sterile white room is hurting his eyes. The bright lights coming from the ceiling seem to reflect off every surface. Even the polished bench serving as his bed, reflects the light. Give him the dingy darkness of Tyrat any day over this.
Adrenaline builds in his body as footsteps echo off the bare walls of the corridor, heading in his direction. The hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. He knows it's One coming to gloat. He expected a visit before now. Perhaps Harvey was preening himself in the mirror to make sure everything was in place before he paid his prisoner a visit.
The man himself steps around the corner and stops in front of the bars. Garvan faces him, his shoulders back and his face blank. He doesn't say a word. Let Harvey do all the talking. Even though the years in prison have changed how Garvan looks, he still reckons he's fairing a lot better than Harvey.
His unmasked face is heavily lined. If Garvan didn't know any better, he'd put him in his late-seventies. His thinning, brown hair is scraped back from his face with a little too much gel to keep it in place. Either his heavy, velvet robe is adding pounds to his weight or Harvey has been enjoying the finer things in life a little too much. If this is what being the head of the Foundation does to you, Harvey can keep his position.
A few minutes of silence stretch on before Harvey's shoulders drop slightly and he sighs dramatically. 'Nothing to say for yourself?'
Garvan smiles but doesn't respond.
One paces in front of the cell, his robe trailing after him like a faithful companion. 'I feel for you old friend. You escape being modified only to be recaptured and placed in the exact same position you were in before. I have to admit, I am glad you were foolish enough to allow this to happen again. I am grateful for the chance to have a chat with you. A catch up if you will.' He stops in the centre of the doorway and clasps his hands together. 'The years have changed you, Wade.'
Garvan steps closer to the bars and gets a little kick of satisfaction when Harvey takes a step away. 'You too.' Garvan rests his hands on the top of the cell door and leans closer to Harvey. The smaller man's eyes focus on the large bulging muscles in Garvan's strained arms. Garvan smiles again. 'Council life suits you. You've become an impressive... specimen.'
One sneers up at Garvan. 'It seems sending you to Tyrat has not had the effect on you I thought it would.'
'Sorry about that. I did consider lying down and dying, but I reassessed my situation. I thought it w
ould be much more fun to survive and one day repay your hospitality.' Garvan holds his arms out to the side and smiles. 'How about a thank you hug?' One steps back again and Garvan laughs. 'What's wrong? Don't fancy stepping in here with me?'
'I should have killed you instead of making the mistake of sending you away.'
'You can't kill me.' Garvan lowers onto the rock-hard bunk and clasps his hands on his knees. 'You see, if you kill me, you'll never know if I've kept your little secret.'
'Who have you told?'
Garvan laughs at the panic in One's voice. 'Couldn't possible say.'
One's face takes on a strange purple hue. 'You know, I can do a lot worse than kill you. You think Tyrat was bad? I can bury you in the worst places in the galaxy. I can leave you to rot alone in the dark.'
'Been there, done that. You just described Tyrat. What else you got for me?'
One is silent as a sly smile spreads across his face.
'Looks like you've found a winner. Don't keep it to yourself.'
'I might just have a use for a strong animal such as yourself.'
'Hey, you don't have to be mean.'
'With a few tweaks to the design I could use someone like you.'
Garvan grimaces and shakes his head. 'Not sure metal would look good on me.'
'We've been avoiding fitting the control implant to males we've acquired. Perhaps it's time to change that.'
'The old mind control didn't hold too well with Gryffin. What makes you think you can do any different with me?'
One nods his head. 'We have perfected the control implant so I have no doubt we will succeed in that regard when we capture him again. He was strong enough to survive, perhaps you will also come through the procedure. Once under my control, I will have no difficulty getting the truth from you.'
'Is it really that important no one knows you weren't legally assigned this role?'
'Perception is everything in this position. It took me a lot of hard work—'
'And lies. Don't forget lies,' Garvan adds.
One ignores the interruption. 'I earned this role and nothing will destroy that for me. Especially you.' Harvey smiles as he spins on his heel and casually strolls down the corridor. 'I suggest you get some rest old friend. You'll need your strength if you're going to survive what's heading your way.'