by T. Y. Carew
Simon nodded. “All right.” Finally he glanced up at Xander. “Cardew deserves to die too. You know that.”
“She'll stand trial, if the universe is kind. These people, their families, they deserve to see her in a courtroom.”
“Xander Finlay, always the righteous one,” Simon said, but his voice was too weary for sarcasm, and it came across as envious.
***
Tyra reapplied the bandage to Matt's back and rubbed her friend's shoulder. “How is the pain?”
“Much more tolerable. Yours?”
The Lentarin smiled. “Bearable. Trey healed the worst of it. Okay, you can sit up. Shall I get you a new shirt?”
“Please.”
Matt lifted her arms straight up, grimacing as the nasty cut flared. Like Simon, she had insisted that the Lentarin twins help even the most lightly wounded before her, and they'd been too exhausted to do much more than scab the cut over. When Tyra had rested up, she would treat Matt further. Not without a little effort and pain of her own, Tyra dropped the shirt down as gingerly as she could manage, and said quietly, “Not that this matters much. I think you'll be out of it in a few minutes anyways.”
“Tyra!”
The Lentarin chuffed a laugh. “I could not be happier, unless Trey were to find a mate. One I did not want to devour after spit-roasting her on an open flame.”
Matt looked at her, horrified. “That's not... er... you don't really...”
“No, of course not.” The Lentarin cocked her head. “Well... if she were really foul, maybe.”
A snicker escaped Matt's lips and she winced. “Oh, laughing hurts. Everything does, I suppose.”
“I can always tell Xander you need a few days to recover before—”
“Uh, no,” Matt said hastily. “I will, ah, handle that end of things.” At Tyra's lascivious grin, or what passed for one on a Lentarin face, she muttered, “Oh, shut up.”
When she rose, Tyra placed one hand on her shoulder, the same she'd been massaging a second ago. This time, there was some force to her squeeze, and Matt glanced down, surprised. “Do not hurt him,” Tyra warned her quietly.
“What?” Matt asked, laughing.
“I mean it. I love you as a sister, Matilda Adair, but you are wildfire and he is the long-standing tree. I have seen his love for you for a while now, and it is not simple desire.”
“I promise that I love him too. And we'll face that the same as we always have. Head on, probably a bit rashly, usually while stuff explodes.”
From the cockpit, Xander shouted, “Hey, you two, we're about to light the candles, so get in here if you want to watch.”
Tyra leaned forward and hugged her friend, careful not to make her hurt. They rejoined Xander at the controls. In his hand was a detonator, and looming in the distance on their monitors was the Beltine refinery. He glanced over his shoulder and gestured them forward.
“We do this together,” Xander said, and held his free hand over the toggle.
“Together,” Matt said, favoring him with a dazzling smile born out of what she wanted next and the meds helping her ignore the pain in her back.
“Oh, you two are going to be awful on the trip home,” Tyra grumbled, and her hand joined theirs, pushing down hard enough that Xander flicked the switch.
Four of the refinery's honeycombed rooms blew apart. As Drew and Trey had predicted, the rest of the base couldn't handle the damage, and the whole structure began to collapse inwards. Over the comms, Trey, Drew, and the crews of the Everett and Hayward whooped. In the background of the Exemplar was more clapping and cheering, and more than a few sobs.
Once they'd cleared the asteroid field and made the jump into FTL, Tyra retired to her bunk. She really did need rest, lots of it, and Xander had no intent on letting her return to the helm for at least two shifts.
They waited an entire ten minutes before they were on each other. It was all they could manage. Matt rose out of her chair as Xander feasted his eyes on her, hungry and amused all at once. As she began to slide her pants off, he asked, “Are you sure you're up—”
“Xander?” she asked, kicking off the fabric. He winced as Matt climbed on his lap, but she was sure he was up to the task at hand.
He sucked in a deep breath and his hands wrapped around her, touching her in ways she'd only been able to dream about. “Yes?”
“Respectfully?” Matt leaned in and kissed him with all the need that had been building in her for months. She broke away and gasped, “Shut up. Sir.”
As Xander helped her out of her shirt, he muttered, “At least you didn't call me boss.”
Chapter 9
Between General Kelton and Xander, on the table, were two fat manila folders barely held closed by elastic bands stretched to the max. The colonel didn't need to look inside to know what was in there—pictures of the two Anassos aboard the Beltine mining facility along with some quick snaps of the structure's interior, taken by a brave (and in Xander's opinion, foolish) trio of scientists from the Exemplar shortly before the vessel undocked. They'd wanted more time to haul the bodies out, but Xander steadfastly refused and only gave them the go-ahead because Drew and Trey needed the time to adapt to the Exemplar's bridge anyway.
The pictures had been forwarded ahead to the military, and as the two ships flew back to Netera, a think-tank spent days poring over them and analyzing detailed logs of the battle on board the Beltine station. The operation, now known as Cutthroat, was studied and debated endlessly, and the folders were the result. Nearly five hundred pages of speculation sat before the colonel and the general on the Anassos, the facility, the in-fighting among the Dairos.
Kelton poured two hefty tumblers' worth of scotch, and passed one over to Xander wordlessly. They raised their glasses to one another, and Xander downed most of his in two swallows.
“Our team,” Kelton said, holding his glass between his hands, “agrees with Captain Adair that the blind Anassos was some kind of prisoner. Our understanding of the biology of the Anassos as a species is still a work in progress, but judging from the brittle nature of its carapace and some of the discoloration of the flesh underneath, the team thinks it may have been very old.”
“So we're not looking at some new threat?” Xander asked.
“We can't say for certain, but no would be our best educated guess. The battle in the station freed it somehow. Speculation is, and I like this hypothesis, the other Anassos was its keeper of sorts. It has all the appearances of being a veteran, and was probably given the position due to its maimed arm. When the station came under attack, the psionic one managed to slip out of its confinement, gather Kyraos and Dairos to it, and the rest you know.”
Xander nodded slowly. Drew and Matt, heads together, had guessed much the same. “And Simon? Has he lawyered up?”
“No. I'm as shocked as you are, Colonel. We aren't interested in taking him to trial, though, and he knows it. If those close to the situation were to explain the facts, the public would undoubtedly side with Mr. Dantos in the murder on board the station. That said, if he's aware of this, and I'm sure he is, Simon is still cooperating with us. He won't see prison, but there will be reparations. Given that he can still be a powerful asset, we’re working with him.” Kelton sipped at his whiskey. “How are your people?”
“Tyra will need a couple surgeries. She came damn close to losing the arm, but her brother healed the worst of it. There's some nerve damage, but the doctors are convinced she'll get most, if not all her range of motion back. Matt is shaken up, but she's strong and recovering.”
“And you?”
“Leg's fine. First time I've ever been a little grateful for some meat on me. The stomach, that might have been bad if it wasn't for the Lentarins. Punctured the intestine, but I didn't know it until I was back on board the Exemplar.”
Kelton gave an appreciative grunt. Xander finally decided to pull one of the file folders to him. He slipped off the elastic band and took one brief glimpse inside. The images of the dea
d psychic Anassos and its keeper—and he was sure the think-tank was right about the one-armed one's purpose—made him shiver, and Xander closed the folder again.
“What's happening with Dr. Cardew?” he asked Kelton.
The general grimaced. “There's a very small cell with a very tiny window for her.”
***
Matt trudged after the burly nurse. No one working for the military-run mental hospital could be considered small in the slightest, and this man—Corbett, his nametag said—looked as mean and rough as any soldier she'd served with.
A soft lavender scent failed at masking the taint of residue chemical cleanser used on the floors and within the rooms themselves. It threatened to give her a headache, but the task at hand was the only thing Matt thought about. After so long trying to convince the military of the red-haired woman's evil ways, she needed to see Evelyn Cardew's end for herself, just to make sure.
Some irrational part of her mind feared that the Anassos had rubbed off on the doctor somehow, that the doors housing the insane would open as one and she'd be flooded by mentally-controlled patients. She'd read the reports, sent to the Contessa probably illegally by a friend of a friend of Tyra and Trey's within the hospital. Every one of them said the same thing—Dr. Cardew, though compliant with simple orders like “walk,” “stand,” sit,” or “eat,” no longer thought for herself. Her mind was shattered.
Nevertheless, her room was one of the hospital's most secure, and that was saying something, given the fortress-like nature of the place. Very few people were allowed in to see her. Matt's presence was allowed only thanks to that same friend of a friend.
“You'll have three minutes,” the nurse said. “If you want to speak to her, use the intercom.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
The nurse grunted something vaguely amicable. Another five doors on, and he stopped at one to swipe his keycard through a slot beside the door. A sharp buzz emanated from a speaker above the frame, and the nurse slid the door open. Inside was an observation room leading to two cells, one empty and pristine, the other occupied by Dr. Cardew. The glass looking in was mirrored—Matt could look in, but Cardew wouldn't be able to see her. Suited her just fine.
Xander had told her what Kelton said about Cardew being in a tiny cell, but the words seemed just that—words. Now that she saw it in person, she realized how truthful they were. There was room for a cot, a sink, and a toilet. That was it. Evelyn had a few feet beside the bed she could use to shuffle around, but the nurse told her Cardew never moved unless she was told to. Now she laid on the bed, her eyes staring dreamily at the ceiling.
Matt stepped forward to a tiny speaker and a single, solitary button. “Just press it once,” the nurse said. “Then again to shut it off.”
“Thanks.” Her finger stopped just a quarter inch from the button as a tiny pang of fear coursed through her. What if that Anassos still had control over Evelyn even after death? What would she do? Fear had never much fazed her, though, and Matt smacked the emotion down as she jabbed the button firmly. A green dot above the button lit up, and she cleared her throat.
“Dr. Cardew.”
Nothing.
“Dr. Cardew, it's me. Matt Adair.”
Still nothing.
“Sit up if you can hear me.”
Dr. Cardew pushed herself up, her limbs moving mechanically as she turned and faced the wall, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her jaw hung open.
“Can you speak?” Rethinking the question, Matt added, “If you can, say your name.”
Nothing.
Beside her, the nurse mouthed, “Two minutes.” Matt nodded.
“Evelyn, nod if the Anassos is still in your mind.”
Nothing.
The next question took guts, and Matt steeled herself for the madness it might bring. “Do you... do you know me, Dr. Cardew?”
Still nothing. If the Anassos still had her, Matt had little doubt that’s what it would respond to. Relieved, Matt took a moment to compose herself and then started in again. Even to herself, she sounded exhausted.
“You've been a pain in our sides for so long. I feel like I've been chasing you almost as much as I have been the Beltine. I hate you. There is no sugar-coating that. You are the worst kind of evil. You've sacrificed everything decent about yourself, and for what? To kill the Beltine? We fight like them, we become like them. And that's what happened to you. Maybe you thought you were doing the right thing, but that's no excuse.”
One minute. Matt grimaced. There had been so much she wanted to say.
“But this... this isn't something anyone should have to go through. Everyone deserves their mind, at least to remind themselves at night about their guilt. I can't believe I'm about to say this, but... I'm sorry, Dr. Cardew. And... goodbye.”
Matt pressed the button again. She raised a hand to the glass, unsure as to why she was making the gesture to someone she despised so much, but there it was. Still, Cardew didn't respond, and Matt turned away and left.
In her cell, Dr. Evelyn Cardew stared straight ahead at the wall, her once-burning mind now utterly extinguished.
***
The announcement was only open to a few dozen military brass, politicians, and a handful of CEOs directly involved in Simon's companies. The exceptions were the crew of the Contessa and Simon's newest personal assistant, Avery Lawrence. She was still getting used to her new prosthesis and occasionally had to take Simon's hand for balance. He didn't seem to mind.
The man who took the stage hardly resembled the same playboy who had been so vile to Mattie. This Simon was ten pounds lighter, nearly gaunt, and he wore a few scars across his pretty face. But those were the least of the changes in him. Throughout the endless meetings with Kelton and the rest of the task force charged with figuring out what to do with him, he'd been quiet, reserved, almost polite. There was still a natural swagger to him, but his old contempt seemed mostly turned inward, at least for the moment.
As he took the podium, he gestured to the former lieutenant to take a spot beside him. Avery glanced around from her chair at the edge of the room, and shook her head frantically at him. Simon smiled, hopped off the stage, and helped her to her feet. Matt watched with sadness and amusement as Lawrence, blushing furiously, stood next to Simon at the podium.
“Sorry, but for those who don't know, my assistant... no, my friend Avery is a large part of why I'm here in front of you today. Having her stand beside me here is an honor and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, usually I like to put on a show at these things, but I think we're going to jump right into it. Starting immediately, my company's backing of the military will be resuming.”
Matt grabbed Xander's hand under the table. The funding they'd helped secure without Simon was only one part of the equation. With him back on board, vessels and equipment the military direly needed were within reach again.
“One thing I've been, ah... this is a terrible joke, but... one thing I've been adamant on is that Adamanta continue to be developed for civilian use. The events during Operation Cutthroat have only convinced me of this, and I've refused to back down on that point during negotiations with the military. The people deserve a chance to defend themselves, to utilize this fascinating new discovery for themselves, for their families, and for their homes. The military has agreed, and as such, my civilian-focused mine will continue as planned.
“However, the operation also opened my eyes to a great many of my mistakes, past and current. To that end, I will be establishing a three-branch advisory council comprised of military consultants chosen by Generals Kelton and Maron as well as Admiral Ory, private sector consultants of my team's choice, and three representatives from regulatory boards we have no history of supporting with nonprofit funding.”
That brought a low murmur from everyone not in the know, and Simon raised a hand to cut them off. “This board will be made privy to patents, blueprints, accounts, and our factories and shipyards. Our company will be an open book to them in
the future. I cannot promise I'll ever be able to make up for the mistake of bringing on Dr. Cardew into our company, but I can assure you this—those affected by Operation Cutthroat and their families will see justice. There are those who have called for my resignation, and I cannot blame them. But my eyes have been opened and I know that I can either resign as an act of cowardice, or continue to fight for all our people and our allies. And that's what I've chosen to do today. Now, we'll have some brief words from...”
General Kelton rose from his chair, and Xander leaned in to whisper into Matt's ear, “Come on.”
Matt had been dreading this moment since the initial euphoria of entering into a relationship with Xander. “Do we have to?”
“Yeah.”
They followed the general out through the rotunda and out through the main doors to the front steps of the massive building. He stopped in the shade of a great statue meant to look like Simon's father.
“Do you believe him, sir?” Xander asked.
Kelton's lips flickered in what was almost a smile. “Let's just say I have a wait-and-see policy on Mr. Dantos.” He glanced at Matt. “How are you feeling?”
“Almost one hundred percent, sir.”
“Excellent.”
She fidgeted, staring at Xander. General Kelton folded his hands behind his back and stretched, his chin turning up towards the sunshine. It was a gloriously beautiful day, with hardly a breeze or cloud in sight. “Was there anything else?”
Xander glanced aside at Matt, who nodded slightly, her whole body tensing. “Um. Yes. Sir, we feel the need to tell you—”
“You know, Colonel Finlay, Captain Adair, I'd hate to have to explain away why I was separating two of my finest soldiers, particularly if, say, there was some kind of fraternization going on. Strictly hypothetical, of course, but if actions like that were to occur, I would definitely not wish to hear about them. Given the chain of command, it would be immoral and against military code.” The general's gaze fell to them, flicking between Xander and Matt, his eyes cold. “Understood?”
