I dream about the General. He stands alone in a silent field. His sadness wraps around me and I choke back tears. I’ll find your men, I promise him.
My father’s voice jolts me from the dream. “Has she woken yet, Ming?”
“No.”
That short word holds so much emotion that I immediately feel guilty for not waking my mom last night.
I open my eyes and meet my mother’s gaze. “Hi.”
She hops to her feet and Dad joins her by my bed. They both have dark circles around their eyes and exhaustion lines their faces, but they still smile at me.
“How do you feel?” Dad asks.
“Like I’m one giant bruise. What’s the damage?” I gesture to my body. “And don’t sugar coat it,” I add, because they’re doing that silent communication thing about how much they should tell me.
“Concussion, four broken ribs, broken collarbone, dislocated left shoulder and a number of cuts and contusions on your back,” Mom says as if repeating a supply list.
Wow. Considering my injuries, I feel pretty good. Or is it because of the miracle of medication? I ask my parents if I’m being given a painkiller.
“Yes. You’ll need to stay on the pain meds for a while. The calcium accelerators are still repairing your bones. It’s the concussion we’re most worried about,” Mom says despite Dad’s frown.
“How long was I unconscious?”
Mom’s grip on the bed rail tightens and, for a moment, her calm demeanor cracks as a brief flash of anguish replaces it. “It’s been three days since they found you.”
Three? The beeping behind me increases its pace and volume. Found? Then my memory creeps out from where it has been hiding. Now the strident sound is almost continuous as I remember what happened. I struggle to sit up. “The looters?”
A couple of nurses arrive and muscle past my parents. One nurse presses my shoulders down. “Lyra, you need to relax.”
“Mom! The looters?” I practically shriek.
“They’re gone.”
I sink back. The beeping, while still agitated, is no longer screaming. The nurses fiddle with the equipment and a numbing heaviness flows through me. My eyes drift shut despite my best efforts to keep them open.
I float in and out of consciousness the rest of the day. Each time I wake one of my parents is there. I’m allowed a couple sips of water and I soak in lots of attention, but there are no questions. I’m grateful and, by the next day, I’m stronger. The doctor gives the okay for me to start eating and the soup is divine—I’ll never complain about the base’s food again. Well…don’t hold me to that. I’ve a concussion after all.
By the evening, I’ve learned that the looters knocked out the cameras and communications in the base when they landed right after the sandstorm arrived. However, everyone blamed the storm and it took a while for security to discover the ruse. The looters blocked the entrance to the pits with a mound of sand, which delayed my “rescue” another couple hours. By the time security reached Pit 4, the looters were gone.
It’s getting late. I tell my tired mother to go back to our unit and sleep in a real bed. “I’ll be fine.” I reassure her.
She’s sitting in the chair and she takes my right hand—the black thing and IV are gone. “Officer Radcliff wants to talk to you in the morning about what happened in the pits. Do you think you’re strong enough?”
“Yes.”
She hesitates.
Now I’m worried. My mother is not the type to hesitate about anything. “What’s wrong?”
“The doctor said no questions until tomorrow, but…”
I can’t take the suspense.
“Just ask.”
Her fingers tighten around mine. “Instead of running away, did you cover the hatch in order to hide it from the looters?”
Oh boy. I search for an excuse not to answer— headache, fatigue, pain—but it would just delay the inevitable. “Yes.” I wait for the lecture on my incredible stupidity.
Instead, she releases her grip and buries her face in her hands. Muted sobs fill the air. My mother, crying? Those two things just don’t go together.
Shocked, I gape for a moment. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I know it was dangerous and idiotic, but I…” What? I needed to protect the General. I didn’t want them to find the hearts. That wouldn’t go over well.
She straightens and meets my gaze. Tears streak her face and her nose is red. “But you believe those artifacts are more important than your own life,” Mom cries. “Because I’m a terrible mother who is too focused on her work.”
“No, Mom, it’s not-”
“Lyra, you are precious to me. All those Warriors that were destroyed or stolen, I don’t care about them. When I saw…when you…” She sniffs. “Nothing is more important to me than you and your brother. I’m sorry I haven’t been-”
“Mom, I know you love me. That’s not the reason I covered the hatch.”
She studies me. “Then why?”
Ah hell. “The hearts. They would have been destroyed and…we’re going to…need them.”
My mom wipes the tears off her face with her fingers, waiting for me to continue.
I rush to fill the silence. “I know it sounds crazy. And it was probably due to my panic when I realized that looters were drilling into the pits. You know…” I wave my hand in the air. “Adrenaline. The fear response releases all those chemicals and people do some strange things while they are pumping through a body.” Okay now I’m babbling and I’m sure my mother is going to ask the doctor to examine my head again to search for brain damage.
“Nice to know all those hours of school work haven’t been wasted,” Mom says. She stands and brushes the hair from my face. Her gentle fingers are warm against my skin. “Promise me that the next time you’ll run away without trying to save any artifacts.”
“There might be a next time?” I squeak in alarm.
“There is always a possibility. But other than the hearts we don’t have anything left for them to steal… not until we reassemble the broken Warriors and the diggers open the other pits.”
In both cases it will be a long tedious process. And now that I’m thinking about it… “What about the General? Was the part I reconstructed destroyed?”
“No.”
The relief that flows through me is stronger than it should be.
“Well?” Mom asks.
“Well what?”
“You haven’t promised me to run away.”
Oh. “If I can, I will.”
That seems to satisfy her. “Get some rest, Lyra. Your father and I will be here in the morning.” She presses a kiss to my forehead and leaves.
Except for the various monitors doing their thing, I’m alone for the first time since I woke up in the infirmary. Considering Mom’s reaction over my covering the hatch instead of running away, I wonder how Radcliff and his security force are going to respond. I fully expect a lecture. Maybe I could beg off on the questions, claiming fatigue. Except I couldn’t do that. Damn, I’m too conscientious.
Beep—you are.
“Thanks,” I mutter to the machine.
After breakfast, the nurses help me. The wires are disconnected and the tubes are pulled out...don’t ask from where. Once freed from the bed and the bandages, they support me as I shuffle to the bathroom. My body protests each movement with a squawk of pain, but I’m informed that my bones have finished healing but my muscles have not—they take longer. And we are going to work on getting my full range of motion back over the next couple days. It’s too early in the morning for such enthusiasm. Plus we really means me. My grumbles fail to subdue their energy.
Once I’m in the bathroom and prove that I can stand without falling over, they give me some privacy. I peel off the sour-smelling gown. Unable to resist, I gaze at my reflection. Nasty splotches of purple and red bruises are scattered on my skin from my forehead to my shin bone. I finger a painful lump at the base of my skull. Ringed around my arm are bands of dark re
d from where my guard grabbed me. I’ve a black eye and my long hair is plastered to my head in greasy clumps. Sexy, I’m not.
The hot shower is an amazing restorative and, along with the clean pajamas Mom brought yesterday, means my view on life is looking up despite me being reconnected to a few of the machines. Then the posse arrives.
The nurses have just left when my parents enter my room followed by Officer Radcliff, Officer Morgan, and Niall. Every expression is serious and my first reaction is that the doctors have lied to me and I’m dying. Niall is holding one of his sketchbooks and I try to meet his gaze, but he avoids looking at me. Lovely.
Mom and Dad stand to my left, while Radcliff and Morgan move to the right. Niall hovers near the foot of my bed. No one sits down. Oh boy.
Radcliff clears his throat. “Miss Daniels, please let me offer you my sincerest apologies for failing to keep you safe. I tendered my resignation, but your father refused to accept it.”
“The satellites didn’t spot them and they managed to bypass the security monitoring equipment before they attacked,” Dad says. “And the sandstorm was the perfect cover. You’re not to blame, Tace.”
I glance at Radcliff. “There is no need for you to apologize, it was my fault I was in danger. I had enough time to run, but I hid the hatch instead.”
The muscles in Radcliff’s shoulders tighten and I brace for the lecture. Both Morgan and Niall stiffen with anger. The silence stretches as I wait for someone to yell at me for being an idiot. The machine behind me beeps.
“Lyra, no one is going to scold you,” Mom says. “You’re suffering from the consequences of your decision. I’m sure you learned from the experience.”
No doubt about that. Funny thing, though. Even though I promised my mother I wouldn’t, I’d probably save the hearts again.
“Please tell me everything you remember after Niall left the pits with your father,” Radcliff says.
I describe the attack from the digging machines to being shot. “I don’t think he wanted his boss to know, so he waited until we were alone.”
“You’re lucky that he only clipped you,” Officer Morgan says. “If you’d taken a direct hit all your bones would have shattered, killing you.”
I struggle to draw a breath. To think that such a lethal force came from such a small weapon… And it was pointed at me. A couple times. I shudder.
Radcliff faces his second-in-command. “No need to terrify the girl.”
“I doubt that’s possible,” Morgan says dryly. “Besides, she needs to know what those energy wave guns can do, since she tends to be where the trouble is.”
No one corrects her. I’d be insulted, but Morgan has a point.
Radcliff focuses on me. He tilts his head at Niall, who appears even more pissed off—something I didn’t think was possible. “Can you describe them?”
That explains the sketchbook. “All I saw were their eyes.”
“Human?” Dad asks, leaning forward.
Mom scowls at him.
“The aliens could return at any time,” he says.
“Yes, human eyes,” I say before they can launch into what they claim is a discussion, but is really an old argument—they have lots of those.
Radcliff asks me a bunch of other questions to clarify details. “At least there aren’t that many people who are obscenely rich. We suspected there might be more than one outfit stealing Warriors, but didn’t think there would be a second hit on Yulin. We’re at least thirty E-years away from the closest colonized planet.”
That comment sparks another memory. “My guard said the time dilation sucked for us, but not for them.” That got everyone’s attention. Questions pelt me from all sides. I hold up my hands. “That’s all he said.”
My dad sinks into the chair. “What if that obscenely rich patron developed a way to bypass the time dilation, but decided to keep the technology a secret?”
“Then we have bigger things to worry about than looters,” Radcliff says.
Twelve
2522:143
The consequences of someone having the ability to zip around the universe without worrying about the time dilation are overwhelming. Then add in the fact this person isn’t playing by the rules…it’s too much for my aching head to comprehend. If I go by the expressions on the faces of the five people in the room, it’s bad. Yes, that’s an understatement, but I am recovering from a concussion. Gimme a break.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” my mom says. “It was an off-hand comment from a murdering thug. Until there’s proof, there is no reason to panic.”
“I’ll still alert DES to the possibility,” Radcliff says. “Can you remember anything else, Miss Daniels?”
“No.” Exhaustion sweeps through me and I sink back into the pillows.
“You’ll let me know if you do?”
A question or an order?
“Of course she will,” Mom says, sounding insulted for me. Go Mom.
The officers leave. A nurse arrives and shoos my parents out so I can get some rest.
Mom kisses my forehead. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Dad lingers. “Just give me a minute,” he says to the nurse.
She’s not happy, but she follows my mother.
He takes my hand in both of his. “What you did… covering that hatch was very brave.”
“Really? I expected all of you to yell at me for being stupid.”
“Being brave requires a certain amount of idiocy. If you think about it, self-preservation is not only an instinctual impulse, it’s smart—survival of the fittest and all that. To do the opposite is brave.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Just don’t do it again.”
“Mom already made me promise.”
“Good.” He squeezes my hand and leaves.
The nurse returns. Fussing over me, she checks the tubes and whatnot. She fiddles with the machine behind me. Its voice softens. Beep—no worries. Beep—go take a break, nurse lady. Beep—I’m watching over her. I drift to sleep.
However, the comforting mechanical sound turns strident in my dream. The General is calling his regiment to take up arms, but they’re gone. The enemy is approaching and no one is there to stop them. Armed with only a sword, he’s all that is left.
Pieces of the darkness break away, transforming into shadowy figures. They move with a strange liquid grace. Definitely not human, but I’m unable to compare them to anything I know. Surrounding the General, they advance. He stands his ground with grim determination. Shadow appendages form into sharp-edged weapons.
When they’re within reach, the General turns to me. “It’s up to you now, Lyra.”
They attack, ripping into him as easily as if he’s made of paper instead of hardened clay.
“No, don’t!” I scream, jolting awake. Sitting up in bed, I grab the rails. The room spins as pain throbs in my head and blood slams in my heart, both keeping time with the frantic beeping.
Niall rushes into my room with his weapon drawn, but relaxes when he sees I’m alone. “What’s wrong?”
I collapse back. “Bad dream.”
He holsters his gun and turns to leave.
“Wait. What are you doing here?” I ask.
“It’s my shift to guard your door.”
My pulse jumps. The Shadow Army is here! But my brain, even sluggish from pain meds, dismisses that as ridiculous and goes on to the next threat. “The looters are back.” I’d like to say that my tone is calm and not panicked, but I can’t.
Niall hurries over to the side of my bed to assure me they’re not. He meets my gaze for the first time. “You’re safe.”
“Then why are you guarding my door?”
“Orders.”
I wait, but he remains silent. “I have a concussion so help me out here. Why do I need protection when I’m safe?”
He gestures to the ceiling. “Just in case the looters return, my dad ordered that you are to be guarded at all times.”
; I mull it over. “Why would they come after me?”
“When you were…unconscious, we were afraid they tried to kill you because you could identify them and if they discovered you were still alive…”
They’d return to ensure I didn’t wake up.
“Now that you explained what happened, as long as that guard believes you’re…dead, there’s no reason for them to return.”
So for the last four days the security team worried about another attack. “And I can’t even identify them. No wonder you’re all angry with me.”
He stares at me a moment. “We’re not mad at you.”
“Really? You couldn’t even look at me this morning.”
Niall sighs. “That’s because I abandoned my post in Pit 4 to help prep for the sandstorm. These bruises…” He trails a gentle finger along the side of my face and I have to fight from melting into a puddle. “Are because I wasn’t there to do my job.”
“They would have killed you right away.” A terrible thought. One that hurts more than cracked ribs.
“My job is to protect you. Not the artifacts. I would have dragged you out of the pits long before the looters broke through. I’m angry at myself. And the entire security team is furious that the looters got the drop on us and harmed one of ours. We’re determined that won’t happen again.”
Maybe I could help with that once I recover. I’m better at using the Q-net than Radcliff. “How long did it take before security figured it out?”
“Longer than it should. Three or four hours at least.” He grabs the rail. Hard. “Before the storm arrived, we were dispatched to help seal the base and bring equipment inside. Then our communications died along with the cameras when the storm hit and everyone was focused on restoring it.” Niall runs a hand through his hair. “Hell, I think your father discovered the blockade in the archaeology lab. We thought it was a collapse at first so we spent time confirming that all the techs were safe inside the base.”
I’m not a tech. “Did anyone realize I was missing?”
“Your mother asked if I’d seen you. I remembered you were working near the hatch before the storm. I searched the entire base for you.” His expression grows haunted. “You could have been buried alive, and your parents weren’t even upset.”
Navigating the Stars Page 16