He seemed to be concentrating or sleeping, so I backed away from him, still holding the compress to my skin. I didn’t want to disturb him.
“Thank you for the tea and compress, Mr. Hamzah.”
“Just Hamzah,” his low-cultured voice answered with perfect diction. His fingers made circles and rested on his knees. “You are welcome. If you require more assistance, use your wristlet and double-tap my name.”
I took a step back again and waved my free hand. The door opened in a breeze of unperfumed air. I entered the hallway, and the door slid shut. For a good twenty seconds, I stared at the door before calling up a map.
“Infirmary.”
The turn-by-turn instructions took me to a sterile, white open room with snowman bots scurrying around setting bones and sealing wounds. I took a seat to wait my turn, still holding the sweet-smelling patterned cloth to my cheek, my thoughts consumed with a strange man in a strange room saying very strange things.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ethan
I stood with Gleason outside the gym. The sight of Vega, Amelie, and Dax beaten had sent a spike through me. Gleason had beaten me many times.
But to see them hurt. Vega bloody.
I almost lit into him. I almost told him what I thought before I remembered myself and let my bubbling blood simmer. I had to approach him differently. He wouldn’t understand my desire to protect them.
“Sir, a word?”
He thrust his chin in the air and shooed away the cadets. One eyebrow quirked as he looked at me.
“Do you want my mission to fail?”
That got both his eyebrows to rise. I took full advantage.
“Why did you have to make her the example? I already had to send her to the pit. She already hates me. Now I’m pretty sure she’ll shoot me on sight.”
Gleason chuckled in the same casual, relaxed way he always did when I was upset. In the old days, it had made me feel better. At this moment, it relit the fire in my stomach.
Was the mission a lesson for me? He loved to test me. If I failed, Vega would suffer the ramifications. His methods of extracting information were basically torture. I couldn’t let anything happen to her, even if she hated me and plotted my slow and painful death.
“She knows we’re connected. If you single her out, she’ll figure out what’s going on.”
Gleason whirled. His knuckles collided with my mouth faster than I could dodge.
“If I had been the enemy—” He repeated what he always said in training.
I’d grown lax in my time on the Lazarus, forgetting that an attack could come at any time from any direction. How long had it taken for me to learn to react instantly with no remorse? Years? And in just a few months, my training had slipped.
“Answer me.” All of the chuckling and smiles snapped off of his face. The rock-hard expression of the drillmaster of the Military Station bored into me.
“—I would’ve been dead.”
He raised a hand, and I nearly flinched. Flinching would draw a worse punishment. Pointing down the long tube hall, he lengthened his strides. I followed.
The area was unfamiliar and sat low in the base, rigged into the whole by ore, scrap, and ingenuity.
“You want me to solve your problems. That isn’t my job. I’ve trained you to deal with conflict. Deal with it.” His gaze didn’t waver as the temperature dropped. We climbed down a rung ladder to an even lower platform. A chill ran through me and not from the cold.
Where was he taking me? I had another class starting soon, and I had about a million miles of terrain to make up with Vega.
And her boyfriend was back. Boyfriend.
I clenched my teeth together to hold down the primal anger that welled in me—some enlisted kid no-doubt. Probably wasn’t an officer. Images of Vega with someone else, leaning in toward him as she’d done on the Lazarus entertainment deck. I violently forced the thought away. I had to hold on to what I could control, or Gleason would skin me.
The lighting grew dimmer. These antique halls didn’t have external openings. Instead, the wall glowed with ambient light.
At last, we stepped off the ladder and stalked down another hall. I followed, sure I’d miss my class now but smart enough not to say anything.
We came to a wide opening, ghostly light flickering from within. He crossed the boundary and shuffled to the left side of the darkness.
I stepped over the entry, and a giant door clamped down behind me. Quiet panic surged through me. Gleason stood with a group of men and women in dark, close-fitting clothing. Clothing designed to blend in and allow the wearer to become almost invisible. Phantom Corp uniforms.
I knew because I’d gone to the same training they had. Stealth was paramount when trying to glean information. But they all seemed to be watching holo monitors and reviewing vidclips—scanning different terrains. One looked familiar.
“That looks like Clementine,” I said. Too loud. And without permission.
Gleason clapped one of the men on the shoulder, nodded, and returned to my side. His face was calm. He didn’t seem to be in the punishing mood, but I kept my guard up as my training ran deep. The string of tension wrapped around my spine and wound tight.
“You are correct. But oddly, the incident that you and the Lazarus bunch describe wasn’t captured on any helmet cam or planetary monitor.” He moved in closer and leaned in as if we were conspirators. “We’ve had—” He paused for a long moment and shifted, showing me all of the twenty-five different screens all fast-forwarding information from ships and planets and even inside the station. “Other encounters with these pirates. You survived, but many others did not. The stories are inconsistent. But a few things that your group left out that others have verified is that these people had abilities.”
“Abilities?” Vega, Dax, and Amelie hadn’t mentioned anything strange. And I already knew that Gleason wanted more info on the incident. Why was he giving me this intel? The code said never divulge information unless necessary.
“You’re wondering why you’re here.” He watched me intently as if I already had his answers.
I nodded once, keeping an eye on the other agents.
“Good. Finally, your training is back. I was concerned.”
He strode closer to the images of Clementine. Blood red rocks painted starkly against blue sky. Scorch marks pocked the rocks. The same clearing of the Hostile ambush.
“If they have a weapon that can score this stone...we need to know about it. You think the aliens are a threat. This ore is almost as tough as the hull of our ships.”
A chill cooler than the recirculated air snatched at my chest.
“Find out the information. Or I will.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
His hand came whistling through the air.
I blocked it.
Gleason closed his eyes. “Dismissed.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Amelie
Dax and I hobbled down the hallway. He looked like he was in pain, but he never complained. He maintained his quiet strength through everything. One of the things I loved about him...liked about him.
He always thought about me. Always. I made sure to walk at my slowest limping pace. I hadn’t been injured as severely as the others, but I added a bit of drama, so Dax would stay with me longer.
Selfish.
Yes. But I missed him, and he’d risked a lot jumping the Lieutenant Commander. He could’ve been punished or worse, expelled.
And he’d done it for me. My parents didn’t care about me as much as he did.
My parents—I shoved the images of their stupid perfect faces into a vault in my mind, but within a few seconds, they erupted again. Having a flawless memory truly sucked sometimes.
Neither Dax nor I felt like talking. And it was okay. A look between us was all it took. But I watched him in my peripheral vision. Strong, broad shoulders, a mass of messy golden-brown hair swooped to one side, and a friendly face with a long straight
nose and a strong jaw. He caught me looking and gave me his gentle smile that warmed my soul.
He was a distraction.
But wasn't being distracted worth it sometimes? Knowledge had always been my shield and fortress against those who would judge me. I just wasn't interested in the things the other satellite girls were.
All they talked about was getting a position in the top tier and rising in court.
Court was boring, all confining dresses that itched and nothing to read or do.
My mom had taken me when I was small. We sat around looking pretty and talking about the problem with the Hub population or the opportunities the settlements represented to the Axis. Political stuff or worse, they'd fall into beauty routine talk that would make my ears bleed.
Dax was kind and made me feel important and safe. Perhaps I could alter my goals somewhat? We reached the lift and waited for the next car. This hallway was wider and close to the officer's headquarters. The lights were brighter, and the sky projected outside of the semi-clear tube was cloudless.
I shifted my body, turning to face Dax fully. “Can I speak with you about something? Something important?”
One eyebrow lifted, and he pointed his feet at me, looking down slightly to meet my gaze. How did one talk about these things? Did you just say what you meant? That had not been my experience. Back home, everything was veiled with double meaning. No, Dax wasn't like that. He was direct, and I would be direct.
My heart cranked up, fluttering high in my chest. I was sure it was an adrenaline response, but it didn't make it feel any better. Air came in shallow gasps. Talking about feelings was as hard as jumping onto the bridge had been back on the Lazarus. And just as dangerous. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if I ruined our friendship?
Dax's hint of a smile widened. “I don't bite, Am. You can tell me anything.”
And with that, my heart settled, and my quivering hands relaxed. The response I always felt with him.
“You see, Dax. I've been thinking. You... you are very brave and seem to understand my method of communicating.”
His brow furrowed. Oh no, I was rambling. I had to pull it together. “I’ve been thinking...I already said that...”
He nodded and stepped toward me as if to physically support me. His hand even twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch me. Sol, if only he would. It would make it easier. The memory of him stroking my back the night on the ship threaded into my consciousness. It had been nice. Very nice. I would like more of that.
“As I was saying...” The doors to the lift opened, and a crowd of blue-clad recruits streamed out.
The last couple didn't rush. They moved as if in a grand procession. The woman's hair was short and stylish, amber that bled into a deep purple. She wore a floor-length, cream-colored gown embroidered with sparkle stones.
The man was her foil and match. His hair was the ultimate in fashion, long on top, and swooped over to one side. He wore a sharply tailored suit of a matching cream.
They looked like a vidcap from the Axis best-dressed page. Both had similar features that marked them as gen-mods, and the processing kept their faces looking fifteen revolutions younger than they should have.
I knew that for sure.
I knew them.
It was my parents.
“Amelie Dupree. We have had quite an adventure finding you in this maze.” She said it as if it were my fault. I couldn’t find the words. I couldn't move.
I hadn't seen them in almost a year. I hadn't thought I'd see them anytime soon. For them to be here after not showing on the dock...maybe they had some real excuse and had wanted to see me. I held onto the reins of my heart, knowing the road was filled with dangerous potholes.
“Do close your mouth, Amelie. Are you so surprised that we came to visit with our firstborn?” Again, an accusation.
Yes, I wanted to scream, but I closed my mouth, and blood finally started pumping to my brain again. My parents looked pointedly at Dax, whose eyes were wide but undisturbed, which strengthened me.
Manners. I had to find my manners.
“Lord and Lady Dupree, this is my classmate Dax Smith. Dax, these are my parents.”
He reached out a hand as was customary on the Hub...but my parents ignored it and bowed instead. I wanted to slap them. Using satellite customs only made others feel foolish or uncultured. I'd have to apologize to Dax later.
Inclining his head, he pulled his hand back. Negative emotion didn’t mar his placid expression, only acceptance.
“We were on our way to our next class. Our time is limited. I'm unsure of the regulations concerning visitors.” I'd never really thought they would ever come to see me, so I hadn't bothered to read up on the protocols.
My mother laughed—a short, humorless thing. “Amelie. We, of course, got permission to visit, and your absence excused. You have to tell us all about the Lazarus, and what have you done to your face?”
“Training,” I muttered.
A humming grew in my brain that I couldn't logic away. They'd come to see me and ask me questions. No. I'd been disappointed too many times. I'd hold my excitement to a manageable level until I was sure.
“Cadet Smith. We, unfortunately, hadn’t expected a guest of Amelie's. I suggest you proceed to your next assigned class.”
The light flashed yellow, and the pre-class siren sounded.
“Pleasure meeting you both. Bye, Am.” He trotted away from me and into the still open elevator. I caught his expression before the doors sealed. Wistful maybe? Sad even? Dax had always been hard to read, and I had difficulty with emotion anyway.
Mostly because of these two, who looked like a displaced medieval prince and princess.
I followed my parents down a secondary hallway, holding my breath, and wondering what could've happened to draw them here.
As we moved into an opulent visiting room, I wondered if I'd ever work up the courage to talk to Dax again and sat down to face the cool attention of Lord and Lady Dupree.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dax
As I descended in the cab, pain radiated through my arm and into my shoulder. My face throbbed. That Lieutenant Commander made Vega and me his punching bags, and I wasn't going to forget it. Why was Ethan so tight with him?
But the pain in my body paled in comparison to the pain I'd felt with Amelie.
It had been close. I felt it. Amelie was trying to talk to me like she had back in the cabin on the Laz. But I couldn't push it. Amelie thought she was completely unemotional and logical. If I fought to make her realize she wasn’t, she'd shut down.
The conversation had to come from her. She had to reach out for it to work.
How I understood that, I didn’t know. Humans were just another engine to me. I could usually see the problem and figure out how to fix it. I didn't know the proper methods or names, but I just...felt it. I could see patterns in machines and people.
Amelie was more sensitive than she'd ever confess. She had talked about her family for hours, of how worthless and different she felt. She'd never mentioned it again, like a part of her she didn't acknowledge that drove everything. And now her parents were back.
And those parents! I'd known she was a satellite kid, but daaaammmmn. The clothes on those two would've paid my parents’ rent for a year. Not to mention the pearl-covered bag her mom carried.
Any real thought that I might be able to associate with her turned to ash. How could I ever measure up to that?
My com buzzed, giving me the one-minute warning. The doors of the lift opened. I sprinted, following the markers as they flashed. Why was I even trying? I was a Hub kid, and my future would be elbow deep in some greasy machine for the rest of my days.
Being friends, speaking to, or even seeing Amelie would become impossible sooner than later. I slid into my class. No surprise, the 3-D holo-board read Introduction to Magnetic Propulsion. Not warfare or leadership or even real support. I would be relegated to the lower class, the lower le
vels, and a lower life.
I didn't listen to the instructor. I let my mind wander to a moment earlier, the moment when I thought Amelie might open up to me. Might make my life something other than ordinary. But it wasn't to be.
A palm slapped down in front of me on the clear desk. I started and straightened, meeting the speaker's face. It was the same man who'd led the axle turn, Anton Petroff. The one filled with glorious purpose and pride in our noble job.
Yeah, right.
“Cadet Smith. You're Hub born, aren't you?”
My eyes wanted to roll, but I kept my composure with effort. “Yes, sir.”
Petroff's face hardened. The lines carved into his face compressed. “Do you understand the chance you’ve been given?”
“I do.” There was an edge in my voice. An edge I couldn't completely dull.
“Because it doesn't seem that way when you are almost late to class and don't feel the need to participate. What if one of your fighters’ propulsion stops working in the middle of a battle. What will you tell your pilot? I didn't bother to pay attention in class?”
“No, sir. I'm sorry, sir.”
An image of a small craft hung in the center of the room. Petroff twitched his finger, and it hovered directly in front of me.
“Why is this ship malfunctioning? You don’t know. You can’t even venture a guess becau—”
“The rear knobs are misaligned.” I should’ve found neutral ground, but the beating I’d taken physically and emotionally left me hanging on a narrow edge.
His mouth opened and closed. “How did you know?”
“I’ve seen them.”
“You’ve worked on them?”
“No, sir. But most mag propulsions work the same.” I remembered where I was and how bad the brig could be and bit down on my lip.
Silence. His dark eyes peered inside my brain. I waited for the retribution. I wasn’t even scared. I sighed and let my shoulders slump, resigned.
Cadet: Star Defenders Book Two: Space Opera Adventure Page 13
