by Imogene Nix
It was the one planet in the entire galaxy she’d promised herself never to return to. Now, once again, she was there without a choice.
The phantom pain pierced her insides, and she rubbed at the location of the remembered injury. Her skin was welted and raised, and she could feel it through the heavy synthetic material of her body suit.
For a moment, a thought occurred to her. Sandon didn’t know. She’d never told him and it wasn’t on her official record. Clinging to that fact at least allowed her some kind of defense from the fear that gnawed at her.
Knock, knock.
She jerked as she turned, ready to answer the summons, her hand on the release button. “Who is it?”
“Sandon.”
She grimaced at his growl, but opened the door and stepped aside, allowing him access.
His gaze darted around the inside of the shuttle and she realized she hadn’t put her ‘net’ away. His gaze fell to it, then with a shattered gasp his eyes darted to her.
She tensed, felt the bloom of heat on her face. He’d know exactly what that was. Levia waited as tense seconds passed. He didn’t speak and neither did she, they just sized each other up. The air grew close and the knot in her belly tightened. Her knees wobbled.
Why doesn’t he say something?
Then he took a backward step, breaking the fragile union between them. “You…”
She watched, alarmed, as he scrubbed his hands across his face. So many questions rose. How is he going to react now that he knows? Will he demand I leave?
“I… Sandon, I’ve been wanting to tell you.” She reached out, her hand shaking slightly, and he recoiled as her fingers made connection with his skin. She jerked away, as if scorched by him.
“God! You should have told me.” The fierce anger in his voice burned her as her skin cooled to the temperature of ice.
“You wouldn’t have taken me on. I needed…” She gulped down the words that would give him an insight into the pain that circled her innards. Don’t give the enemy any advantage. It was the first and most common mantra that was drilled into them during their training for combat. The one that had kept her alive during… She shied away from the memory.
“What did you need?” His voice sounded strained to her.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t really matter. So, am I going to be leaving the Golden Echo or will you be keeping me on?” She kept herself stiff and aloof. Ready for the blow when he told her to leave.
“What?” His eyes widened with shock. “Why on… Now why would I do that? You’re the best pilot the Echo has ever had.”
Releasing the pent-up breath was an effort, but she did so, very, very slowly. She felt as if one comment or touch would shatter the shell she’d carefully gathered around herself like a barrier. “I may be the best pilot, but unless you can see beyond this…” She spread her arms wide so it encompassed everything he’d seen. “Unless you can do that, then there is no future in me remaining here.” Deep inside her mind, though, she was screaming, Don’t make me leave.
His mouth firmed into a tight grimace. “I don’t…” He stepped forward, but she held herself still, ready for the blow.
“Don’t sugarcoat it for me. I don’t do that, and I don’t expect it in return.”
His eyes glinted dangerously in the dimness of the craft. If she hadn’t been what and who she was, she may have taken a step back, but fear was reserved for the memories that assailed her each and every night.
“Fine. I have no intention of asking you to leave.”
The thudding of her pulse slowed a little. “But?”
His eyes narrowed at the single word. “But what?”
“The truth is, what I am…who I am…” Her mind took on the consistency of mush. How could she tell him without letting him know how much the reality of what she was, hurt her? “I uh… I don’t need to share this information with anyone else, do I?”
Creases appeared between his eyes. The frown was concerning, but she waited, hoping he would figure out just how badly she needed to keep the secret.
“You don’t want me to tell the others?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Why?”
She gulped. Audibly. “Because, in my experience, it makes people nervous. They think of me as some kind of…” She jammed her hands deep into her pockets, withdrawing into herself without conscious thought. “As some kind of murderous creature.”
It was clear, the way his face changed from scrunched up to wide-eyed with surprise, the instant he understood. “No. I won’t be informing the others.” Even as she opened her mouth to thank him, he raised a hand. “Not unless it becomes necessary. Should it endanger the crew, then I will make disclosure.”
It certainly wasn’t a perfect answer, but it was understandable. Levia gave a tiny nod. “Fine then. Only if it becomes necessary.”
“About Omega V...”
Once more she curled into herself. “I don’t…” She beseeched him, but he shook his head.
“I need you to pilot me down and stay.”
The numbness that had leached away returned. “Why?”
“Because the negotiations are going to be…” Sandon’s shrug betrayed his inner turmoil, and for the first time, Levia could see his frustration. “I need you there in case it goes south. This deal… I’ve never been offered a deal like this, but turning it down isn’t simple nor is accepting it.”
Her heart shuddered. Never before had she requested details of who or what, but now, it seemed imperative. “What’s the cargo?” Her voice sounded harsh, and he frowned once more.
“Bodies. Those who were killed in the battle for Omega V between…”
A sound, keening and long, erupted. “I can’t, Sandon. Don’t ask me to do this.” In her pockets, her fingers curled, cutting tiny crescent-shaped incisions into the soft flesh. Her past haunted her day and night, and now this. There was no way, without baring everything that she could tell him… Her soul cracked in half.
“Levia, this is a diplomatic mission on behalf of the Juran Commonwealth.”
“Please…”
“I need you and your assistance, Levia. If there was any other way…” He extended his hands, and she wanted to accept he was right. But she couldn’t, because he wasn’t. “No one else here is capable of piloting the shuttle to the site and able to keep us ready to go at the drop of a hat. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
One look at his face told her he truly believed it. There wasn’t an option, except to leave. For all her history, she wasn’t sure she could do that. She wasn’t strong enough or brave enough to leave the safety of the Golden Echo. Instead, she gave a jerked nod. “Fine. But after this, never will I return to Omega V.”
In his eyes, she read intrigue, but turning away was the only safe action. It allowed her to hide the pain and fear that wracked her.
“Levia, if I could…”
“No. Don’t.” She pulled her hands from her pockets and held them up, palm out in the attitude of defeat. “Not now. Just go. I’m… I need to rest.”
She waited and listened for the sound of his movements. When they came, it was after an extended pause. She heard the door open then close behind him with a thud.
Once more alone, she staggered to the bed and sank down. “I’m so in trouble.”
* * * *
Making her way back to the bridge was a trial. It felt as if every crewmember were watching, weighing her every reaction, so they could gauge how to treat her. Vestang lifted a mug to his lips as she entered, and even he sputtered. “Oh, Pilot Endrado, uh… Sandon told me you’d be back. I wanted to—”
The urge to roll her eyes was almost overwhelming. She beat it back and searched deep within for the balance she’d always relied on.
“Yes, well, as you can see, I need to finalize our orbit and entry/re-entry plans. You can take the helm.” She remained still, legs straight just like her back, her arms wrapped around her stomach as if to hold in th
e rage and panic that swarmed like angry bees.
She watched him. He was eager, almost child-like, as he headed for her sling. She sighed inwardly, knowing that to give in once would lead to further liberties. “Uh, from your own seat, I think, Vestang.”
His shoulders slumped in his classic pose of dejection, and she grinned in spite of her problems. From the corner of her eye, she could detect the looming planet, gray-green on the monitors, ascending off the bow. The one place she’d rather never see again. She gulped silently and laid her hands on the controls, noting the fine tremor.
Her gaze silently traced the continents and coastlines that she’d seen from this position only once before.
“Le… Levia?” It was the first time Vestang had ever used her given name, and she raised her head with a snap, realizing she’d lost herself in the memories.
“What?”
“Are you okay? You’re looking… You look a little unsettled.”
Her gaze met his and she realized he was watching her. The how or why of his actions didn’t change anything, now he knew she was out of sorts and vulnerable. She hated that. The lack of control that went with that sensation reminded her of the procedures she’d endured all those years before.
“I’m… I’m fine. Just thinking.” She laid her hands flat against the controls, willing the shaking to stop. It did, finally, but it was an act of pure will.
“I can go, you know. If you would prefer it.”
The knowledge that she’d brought this level of angst to the Golden Echo reverberated through her. It made her feel cold and scared. I don’t want to be alone! The thought flashed hard and it shocked her to realize she didn’t. She’d been alone too long. Physically and emotionally. “No. No, you stay. I just… I’m trying to think.”
He didn’t speak again. There really wasn’t any need, because in his eyes she could clearly read his concern.
Now, she looked at the view in front of her, noting the landmasses of gray and the green oceans. It was a pretty planet, or had been before the war. On arrival, she’d noticed the small gray-blue trees and the reddish colored ground. She remembered the profusion of miniscule avian species and the air scented with spicy florals. The wind had been soft and warm, caressing the exposed skin at her neck and chest before she’d tugged on her battle-gear. All that had changed suddenly, as her mission data had been received. The tinny broadcast that had her hurrying for her bike and setting off. Then she’d been all business.
Her last memory of this planet wasn’t quite so friendly. No, it was the vision of a battleship looming over the horizon. At the remembered fear, dread settled in her belly and her pulse spiked.
She shook her head, hoping to clear the frozen sensation that once again trickled through her.
“Levia?” The voice reminded her that she wasn’t alone, and with a grunt she pulled away from the viewer.
“Yeah.” Carefully, she lowered herself into the sling and laid her hands against the console, felt the seep of warmth through her fingertips. Then she sighed and settled into the task.
Her mind dealt with the computation at lightning speed and before long, the plotting was complete. She stood, wiping her hands over the heavy fabric of her pants, as if that would allow her to sweep away the knowledge of her return to Omega V.
It was too much. Too big and overwhelming, and she shoved herself from the table and stalked from the bridge while her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. As the lift stopped and the doors opened, she searched for the inner well of strength, her hand resting on the metal surround as she breathed in, letting her lungs expand then exhaled.
“Levia?”
Sandon’s voice startled her, and she jumped. “Sa…Captain?”
“Are you okay?”
The words I’m fine rose, but she knew they were a lie. She wasn’t fine. He could clearly see that, and lying to him wasn’t the answer.
His hand circled around her arm, and she nearly swallowed her tongue. He gently steered her to his office and sat her down in the seat opposite his desk. “What’s wrong, Levia? You’re going to have to tell me, so we can face this together.”
“I don’t…”
“Don’t you trust me to help you?”
The silky words arrowed straight to her gut. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just… Look, a lot of stuff inside me is connected to what I am. What I’ve done and seen. Sometimes that knowledge is…” She wracked her brain, searching for a way to explain. “Sometimes living with me is hard. I mean, the memories…”
She looked out the window into the darkness. That was her. The darkness out there. Lonely with brief streaks of light.
She hunched forward. “I can’t…” Levia covered her face with her hands.
* * * *
Sandon watched as she hid her face, realizing for the first time that the barrier she erected between herself and others wasn’t self-sufficiency, but more an inability to cope with her past.
“You don’t have to do this alone.” The words slipped out, surprising him at first. But they felt right. Good. “Levia, we’ll be your family, if you let us.”
The stillness about her spoke volumes. He laid his hand on her arm, and when she didn’t flinch from his hold, he pressed on. “I can’t and won’t speak for the rest of the crew, but for over three months, you’ve worked alongside us. You’ve made the Echo more successful than I’d ever dreamed—”
“But they don’t know. If I tell them…” The words ended on a defeated sigh, and he hunched down beside her.
“Then don’t tell them. I know and it doesn’t bother me.”
“Then you’re either mad or stupid. I’m a bloody trained assassin. A killer.” The roar of anger and hurt seared his mind.
“I’m not an idiot, Levia. But you need someone on your side. You can’t do this alone, because—” He tugged his hand through his hair, his mind whirling in spinning circles. “You aren’t alone. You’re a member of the crew. That means no matter how hard you try to keep us—damn it, even me—at a distance, we won’t give up on you.” The heat licking at his belly rose, urging him forward. His hand clasped her shoulder, pulled her closer. “You’re one of us, Levia.”
Her eyes shone and he swore, dragging her closer still. His lips were mere inches from her cheek when she turned, and he closed the distance between them.
What started as a simple gesture changed. He stilled as did she. Lip to lip. His eyes were open, as were hers, and their gazes collided.
Her lips were soft, warm. Unable to help himself, he moved, caressing the plump flesh with his mouth, rubbing over it with infinite care. When her mouth opened beneath the pressure of his, any hope of holding onto sanity disappeared. With a groan, he deepened the kiss, their tongues sliding together.
Berries, she tasted like berries. Like the lush summer yurdu berries he remembered from his youth.
Her hand rose, settled against his chest as he breathed in the scent of her. Then she pushed. Not hard, but enough to repel him. “No.”
The silky veil of pleasure that had settled in his mind blew away as he realized what he’d done. Glancing at her face, he saw fear and anger.
“Oh, Levia, I shouldn’t have—”
She cut him off by raising her shaking hand. “No. It was my fault.”
He frowned. It wasn’t. No one was at fault. “I started—”
“San— Captain, I started it. It was my mistake, and I take full responsibility for it.” They rose up and she staggered backward, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Barsha! Levia, we’re adults.” He would be damned if she’d take it all as her fault. After all, he had been the one to open this particular Pandora’s Box.
“No. I know better than to let my emotions cloud my judgment. You felt sorry for me, and sought to—”
“That’s just garbage, Levia!” The rush of emotions nearly stole his equilibrium. “See? On here, you don’t get to accept the responsibility for stuff going wrong. As the captain, that’
s my job.”
The surprise on her face should have been gratifying, but it wasn’t. It broke his heart to see her lost expression.
“But… I don’t understand. I mean, I crossed the line.”
“We both did. And what’s more...I enjoyed it.”
With a shake of her head she backed away. “But you can’t.”
“Why not? Give me one damned good reason.”
“Because I’m not human. I’m damaged…” A tear, fat and heavy, plopped from her lashes and trailed down her cheek, smearing the makeup she wore. Beneath he detected a green tracery. When he lifted his hand, she shied away.
“You’re Levia. An amazingly talented pilot and someone I’d like to get to know better.”
She jerked away at his words, eyes flashing as he cursed himself silently for pushing without adequate thought.
“You want to know me? The real me?” Her voice rose, taking on an angry edge, and she raised a hand, swiping away the makeup so the green glow shone through.
Anger and horror churned as his gaze roamed over the revealed cybernetic tracery.
“This is what I am. I’m not a woman. I’m some kind of freakish walking, talking computer!”
This was the real Levia, the woman damaged by decisions and actions taken by governments. The one with shattered emotions, always expecting to be slapped back. Anger surged within his chest. That they could do this to a person, to a woman…to Levia, was unforgivable. But now wasn’t the time to tell her, so he reached out his hand.
“Levia, I…”
She stepped further back into the dark corner of his office. “No. I’m not interested in promises. Promises have never done me any favors.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He watched as she dragged in breath after breath, chest heaving and eyes closed.
“I just need to regroup. Right now, I can’t think straight. I’ve completed the computations already. I’m going to clock off for the day. Tomorrow morning…” She shook her head, and his stomach churned at seeing the uncertainty and pain etched on her features.
“Levia—”
