by K. D. Mattis
“Think about it,” she said. “If these are coordinated attacks, they’re not very big. We’ve seen them in conventional fights. They’re capable of much more than this. Why waste time and resources with small attacks?”
“Death by a thousand cuts?” Reynolds offered.
“Death by two cuts? Maybe you’re right, but it doesn’t seem like their MO.”
A sharp ringing noise cut through the air, and the former officer rushed to silence his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and squinted his eyes in concern when he saw his wife’s name on the screen. With a push of a button, he slid the phone back in his pocket.
“When’s your reinstatement hearing?” Asher asked.
“Soon. Too soon for my wife, anyway.”
“And you?”
Smiling, Reynolds dropped his gaze to the ground.
“Well, it would be nice to be back. I’ve got to tell you, though, it has been nice having a break from all this. The constant fires, the fear for your life, the rigidity that guides everything you do. I don’t miss any of that.”
Looking up, Asher smiled. “So, civilian life suits you?”
“Maybe,” Reynolds shrugged. His eyes glossed over as he continued, “Feeling safe doesn’t happen as a civilian. Not in any meaningful capacity, anyway. Not when you know what’s out there waiting for us. At least in the Corps, you feel like you have some way to control what happens. Even if it’s not always in the way that you’d like.”
“Like illegally installing weapons on a space station?”
Reynolds nodded.
When the man’s phone rang again, he pulled it out of his pocket and answered. He stood there listening for several minutes. He made a guttural response to a few questions and let his jaw go slack. When the call ended, he calmly hit a button and slid his phone back into his pocket.
Asher looked on with concern.
“Thomas, is everything all right?”
The man didn’t answer, so she moved in front of him. He looked at her. His eyes were glazed over.
“Thomas?” she asked as she placed a hand on his shoulder.
Reynolds collapsed in a heap, gasping for a breath that just wouldn’t come. A couple of off-duty corpsmen overheard the commotion and ran into the room to investigate. Asher waved them off and dropped down to her friend.
As the man writhed on the floor, and she tried to find some way to support him and pick his head up off the ground. Every time she grabbed at his face, he wrenched it away and mumbled something incoherent.
“Thomas, please,” Asher pleaded. “What is it?”
Something broke in the man. Asher saw it as his face twisted from pain to anger to resolution in a matter of seconds. She recognized the stare on his face. Commander Cole bore the same expression after their first encounter with the Culdarians. Distant, but determined. Dangerous.
“Thomas? Talk to me.”
“It’s over.”
“What is?”
“My neighbor. She and my wife are close. She keeps an eye on my wife when I’m gone. Checks in on her. Makes sure she’s getting by all right. Eating enough. Getting out of the house a couple of times a week. She knows how hard it is for her when I’m gone. She’s just being a good neighbor.”
Asher shook her head. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
“My neighbor went to check on her a while ago. Saw the front door open, so she walked in. My wife was in her recliner. Shot in the head.”
Grabbing the stiff man into her arms, Asher did her best to console him. His body remained rigid, and he slowly pushed away.
“They did this.”
“Who?” Asher asked.
“The Culdarians. The Symbiants. I don’t know which, but they killed her.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“That’s what I would do. They knew I was coming here to help you. They must have. If you can’t stop someone, you can keep them distracted.”
The man stood, completely ignoring the admiral’s attempts to hold him down. “I have to go now, Asher. It was good seeing you.”
“Stop.”
The man kept walking.
“Reynolds, stop. That’s an order.”
Turning, he said, “As I recall, I’m not a member of the Space Corps anymore. You don’t give me orders.”
“Fine. Just tell me where you’re going.”
“Home. To grieve, and to be with the only family I have left.”
“And then?”
“Goodbye, Kayla.”
As she watched her friend walk away, escorted by two guards, she wiped away a tear that came dangerously close to running down her face. She cleared her throat, but the lump that formed wouldn’t go away. Feeling in her pocket, she felt the subtle outline of her phone. She shook her head to shake away her concerns.
Asher rushed back to her office. When no one was around, she broke into a half run until she pushed through the door and slammed it behind her. Desperate, she ripped her phone out of her pocket so quickly that she dropped it, stumbling when she picked it up.
Every second was agony.
The phone rang until she heard his voice on the other end of the line say, “I’m sorry to have missed your call—”
Asher called again and again. Each time, the response was the same. She called her mom with the same result. The answers wouldn’t come fast enough, and Asher couldn’t take it. She leaned against her door and slid down to the ground, wrapping her arms above her head. Her body shook, and she released the tears that she’d been holding back. Someone knocked on the door, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand and answer.
She dropped her phone again. This time, she didn’t bother to pick it up. It lit up a few moments later with a text message.
Cautiously, she crawled over to the device.
“Busy. I’ll call you later.”
31
Every person who walked by and offered Reynolds their condolences did so with sincerity and sadness, and it made Asher want to scream. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the gesture, because she did, but she couldn’t bear standing near the door as everyone lined up to say their words to her friend before heading to the parking lot. Still, she couldn’t bear to let him out of her sight.
Inevitably, people recognized her uniform and came up to her. Every pat on the shoulder, every word of encouragement, every bit of talk about the difficulty of life in the military, it meant nothing to her. She tolerated it because she believed it was the right thing to do, but inside, she screamed at every person who passed. Her forced smile never led anyone to believe that she didn’t want to hear more stories about her or how much people would miss her.
Worse still, she couldn’t believe how popular her friend’s wife must have been. The church was large, so large that many people had to stand. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was her husband’s notoriety that drew so many people.
When the room finally cleared, a pastor walked up to Asher. She forced yet another smile, expecting him to say the same things. Instead, he grabbed her by the shoulder and walked with her to the front of the room.
Facing the casket, she found herself looking of her friend’s wife, covered in a beautiful wreath. She knew the body was inside the casket in front of her, but it didn’t feel real. The pastor must have sensed her confusion.
“Ma’am,” he said, “as a close friend of the family, you’re welcome to view the body if you’d like. Some believe it brings closure.”
Asher shifted on her feet. “What do you believe?”
The man smiled and placed his hand on the casket “I believe you’ll process this in time. However and whenever you see fit.”
“It hasn’t set in yet. That she’s really gone, I mean. That someone I love and respect has to go through something so heinous.”
“It rarely does. Not for a while. It takes time and patience.”
Running her fingers on the edges of the casket, Asher hoped to experience some rev
elation. When it didn’t happen, she looked to the pastor again.
“You’ve been through a lot of wakes, right?”
“Too many. It comes with the territory.”
“Did it turn out okay?”
The pastor nodded and began walking to the exit. Asher followed without question.
“The answer doesn’t matter. The family appreciates your help setting this up. Now all that matters is that you grieve. It’s going to feel like your world is ending, and I need you to know that it isn’t.”
“I’m fine. I’m just worried about Thomas. I need to know that he’ll be—” Asher trailed off, lost in thought.
“Okay? A man that buries the woman he loves is never okay. Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon. My heart breaks for him, that he had to do it so young. And for you, that you care so much. If nothing else, know that Thomas’s wife has always been proud of him and the work that he did. I don’t know a single time I spoke with her where the conversation didn’t eventually turn to Thomas.”
“I—”
“Her life was cut short, but Thomas ensured that it was filled with joy. Take comfort in that.”
With her hands shaking again, Asher leaned forward and hugged the pastor before turning to the door and walking out.
A few stragglers remained in the parking lot. Most were either gone or driving off to the gathering to eat and share more stories. They would expect to see her shortly, as an unofficial guest of honor. With a grimace, she spotted her car in the distance and hurried toward it. Matching her steps, men in uniforms around the perimeter of the lot moved toward her car.
As she neared the vehicle, a man stepped out and opened the door for her. The guards suddenly turned their attention to the edge of the parking lot. She turned and saw a haggard Robert Harris.
“Kayla, I don’t know what’s going on,” he pleaded.
His eyes showed nothing but exhaustion. She studied him carefully, looking for any sign of malice. Seeing none, she waved him forward. The guards nodded and let him past.
“Why are you here, Robert?”
Robert’s hands hung limply at his side as he spoke toward the ground. “I know. When I heard what happened, I just… I had to see you. To check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
Asher smirked. “Me? Look at you.”
“I know. I can’t imagine what I must look like.”
“You look like hell,” Asher blurted out.
Robert forced another smile. He looked up but couldn’t quite bring himself to look the admiral in the eyes. “I’ve been through hell.”
“You need to go.”
“No. Not before you take this.”
Harris reached into a bag hidden under his oversized jacket. Asher reached back into her purse, so he moved slowly, intentionally. From the bag he removed a ratted, yellow envelope and stuck it out toward the admiral. She stared at it with her head cocked to the side.
“Take it,” he insisted.
“What is it?”
“Take it. Your eyes only.”
With reluctance, Asher slowly reached forward.
“Sir?” Questioned a guard.
“It’s fine,” she muttered.
When her hand squeezed the envelope, she ripped it out of Robert’s hand. She went to open it, but Robert shook his head.
“Not here. Please.”
“What is it?” Asher asked again. She couldn’t hide the frustration in her voice.
“I’ve received information from the Symbiants. There’s something going on. That’s everything I know. I don’t know what you should do with the information, but you need to have it.”
Asher tucked the envelope under her arm.
“This is reliable?”
“As reliable as it can be.”
“How can I trust you?” Asher’s softened expression betrayed her feelings.
“Don’t trust me,” Robert said. “Trust yourself. Only yourself. I warned you before that there’s a war on. I intend to stop it.”
The man turned to leave.
“Where are you going?”
As he turned back to the admiral, he stumbled and barely managed to catch himself on the rear of her vehicle.
“I don’t know, exactly. I just know where my Symbiant is leading me, I don’t know if I’ll return. This is probably the last time I’ll see you.”
Throwing aside all restraint, Asher lunged forward and wrapped her friend in a hug.
“You know what’s coming?” he asked.
Asher shook her head. “No. But be careful out there. I’m worried about you.”
Pushing away, Robert said, “I’m already gone. Read that carefully. Do what needs to be done.”
Asher watched as Robert Harris ran for the tree line, stumbling with every step, until he disappeared.
“You too,” she whispered.
The last car in the parking lot turned back toward Asher as she kept looking to the woods. The window rolled down, and an obese man stuck his head out the window. He was covered in sweat.
“Hey, is everything all right?” He motioned to the guards. “Are these guys bothering you?”
Asher turned reluctantly and forced another smile.
“Yes, sir. I’m fine.”
To avoid giving him any more reason for concern, she squeezed into the car and pointedly waved and thanked the man.
Asher pulled out her phone and mindlessly tapped away at a random game. Finally, her small caravan turned into the parking lot of what looked like a gymnasium. She watched the people pour into the building. As with most funerals she attended, the people either were laughing or crying. There wasn’t much variation between the two extremes. For a moment, she almost went inside.
But the envelope still stuck out from under her arm. It called to her. She pulled it out and placed it on her lap. She looked over at the guard that prepared to open her door. His presence made her reconsider what she was doing, and she tucked it under her seat.
“Get me out of here,” she said. “I have something to attend to.”
32
Harris ran, sensing something following him. Every time he turned around, a feeling inside, something stronger than instinct, told him to keep moving. To get away.
The run carried him up an embankment but didn’t allow him to see the drop-off in time. His foot stuck out, and he expected to find solid ground. He tumbled forward through grass, roots, and dead leaves before coming to rest at the base of a tree.
“Keep going,” the voice inside him said.
And so, he did. Every road that weaved across his path served only to change the scenery. Every fence served as a minor obstacle. For hours, he ran through a steady mix of woods and corn fields until he finally reached a stream. Without thought, he plunged his face into it and drank as deeply as his body would allow.
“We have to go,” the voice insisted.
Throwing his head back, Harris shouted, “I know that! How does that help me?”
Between blinks, Harris saw an old man form in the water, standing there watching him with a look of disgust.
“That was stupid, you know.”
“Which part?” Harris spat.
“Don’t play dumb with me. Lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me. You shouldn’t have talked to the admiral again. That was stupid.”
Harris kicked off his shoes and threw them back toward the grass. His feet sank slightly into the mud. The cool water mixed with the grittiness of the sandy mud soothed his aching feet. He sat back into the water and allowed it to mix with and relieve his sweat.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Asher’s sharp. She’ll know what to do.”
“To piss off the Culdarians? Sure,” the old man said, shrugging and looking to the sky, “that’s a great plan. Let’s piss off the guys that want us all dead.”
His arm swung low in the water, and Harris threw a wave of water at the old man. It went right through him as if he wasn’t there.
“They’ll wan
t us less dead if we keep to ourselves? Hasn’t that ship already sailed?”
“Indeed. Quite literally, I’m afraid.”
The two stayed in the water for a while making small talk. As they talked, Harris stripped out of his clothes and bathed himself in the creek using one of his socks as a makeshift washcloth.
“That’s disgusting,” said the old man, looking away.
“Really?” Harris stood and continued washing himself with his sock. “Any more disgusting than anything else you’ve dredged up from my mind?”
“Fair enough. Being trapped in your head hasn’t exactly been a pleasure.”
Slowly, Harris stuck his arms out to his side and raised his foot to step on the bank of the creek. A cloud of dirt remained in the water where he sat.
“I never asked you to join me. You do remember that, right?”
“And I never asked your crew to zap me,” the old man said. “That wasn’t much of a pleasure either.”
As Harris pulled his clothes back on, his eyes constantly scanned the trees around him for signs of life. Except for a squirrel, he saw nothing but himself and his constant companion.
“Tell me about that. I still don’t understand.”
The old man sat down and placed his face in the palms of his hands.
“Which part?”
“Why did the shock keep you from doing your job? The last time I saw a Symbiant in a host, the man went insane.”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think I’m quite myself anymore. If I had to guess, you became a part of me, and I became a part of you.” The old man stood and walked toward the squirrel. When he got close, he kicked through it, and the squirrel kept sitting there playing with a pecan it found on the ground.
“Why are you helping me at all?” Harris asked. “Shouldn’t you want me dead?”
The old man’s image twisted and morphed into a mirror image of Harris in a proper Space Corps uniform.
“Maybe. Would you want yourself dead?”
