by LC Morgans
“Wow, check this out. Talk about new and improved,” Blue teased when she entered the bar that night, and she felt her cheeks burn under his gaze. He didn’t take his eyes off her though, and it felt good having them on her.
“Yeah, yeah,” she brushed his comment off as casually as possible and took a seat at the bar. He delivered her a beer without needing to be asked, and she thanked him.
They chatted about everything and nothing, and before long some of the other patrons joined in. Chatter and laughter soon filled the small bar, and Kyra genuinely started to enjoy herself. She drank more than she had the night before though, and found herself swaying when it was time to use the bathroom. She emerged to find two shots of whiskey waiting for her, which she promptly downed, and then it was her turn to buy a round. “Tequila!” she roared, slamming her hand down on the bar with a grin, and Blue gave her a polite curtsey.
“Whatever the lady wants,” he replied, and poured her the required amount of shots, which he delivered with salt and slices of lemon at the ready. When it was nearing closing time, he asked her again if she’d like to go out, and again she politely declined. She had no plans that involved men at all, and despite him being perfectly cute enough, Blue didn’t stand a chance with her, and she told him so.
The next day she slept late, lazed around and did hardly much else. She was simply counting down the hours until the bar would open again, and was there within minutes of opening time. Kyra wasn’t a fool. She realized she might not be dealing with her recent past as well as she’d thought, and kept reminding herself the answer was certainly not at the bottom of a bottle, but still she went back again and again. By the sixth night, Blue was already joking about her not being able to stay away, which was actually kind of true. He made it out as if she couldn't resist spending time with him, rather than the drink, but they both knew she was looking for the escapism she found when the world fell away, and only her drunken happiness was left.
“What’s he doing here?” Blue asked nobody in particular towards the end of his shift that night, and Kyra followed his gaze over to the doorway, where a huge man had just entered the small bar. His face was hidden by shadow, but it was clear he was Thrakorian by his sheer size, and when he walked toward the bar, Kyra gasped in shock. She turned to hide her face from Blue’s newest customer, and he noticed her reaction right away. He stiffened and stood taller, but it didn’t matter in comparison to the huge man towering over him. It was a well-known fact Thraks didn’t drink alcohol, so they all knew his presence here must mean only one thing.
“I’m looking for Kyra Millan,” Sentinel Gron asked, and Blue shook his head.
“I haven’t seen her this evening, sir,” he lied for her, and Kyra cringed. She watched from her spot a few feet away, and guessed Gron hadn’t noticed her thanks to the new haircut. A million and one questions were going through her mind, but she couldn't get them straight through her drunken haze.
“That’s funny, because according to her records she purchased a drink here not fifteen minutes ago,” Gron replied in his ominous deep tone, and he gripped the bar with is powerful hands. “I’ll happily shut this place down and put you out of a job if I have to, human,” he growled. “Would you care to explain to the local police how you were unwilling to provide information when a Thrakorian demanded it of you?” The entire bar had gone silent, and each of the usually so chatty punters were watching the exchange in shock. Kyra quickly started to feel terrible for letting Blue deal with her hard-ass of a boss. She had no idea why he was here looking for her, but guessed she’d better find out.
“Sentinel Gron, sir,” she called over to him, and the intimidating man turned towards her with a scowl. “What’s this about?” she asked, and swayed as she peered up his mammoth frame to his face. Gron caught her by the lower back, and helped her stay standing.
“You're drunk,” he answered, and she burst out laughing.
“And you're very observant.”
“Let’s go to your room so you can sober up. We’ll have to have our conversation in the morning,” he steered her away, and Blue appeared as if out of nowhere to block their exit.
“Is this the man responsible for your busted lip, Kyra?” he asked, standing tall in defiance to the scary extraterrestrial before him. “Because if he is, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to leave with him.”
Gron leaned down to speak quietly, and Kyra watched in horror as he overshadowed Blue with both his huge body and frightening demeanor.
“Your concern for her is very touching, but you'll find I’m her Commanding Officer, not her boyfriend. As if I’d touch a human,” he snickered at the insinuation, and Blue immediately backed off. Kyra gave him a nod, and he let them leave, but she felt his eyes on her all the way over to the elevators.
She and Gron rode up to her floor in silence, but all she wanted to do was giggle. Kyra knew she was swaying after all the alcohol in her system, and bumped into her mammoth guest on more than one occasion, despite the smooth ride. Inside the room, she threw down her things and grabbed another beer from her stash in the bathroom, but he grabbed it before she could even touch her lips with the bottle, and poured it down the sink.
“Hey!” she argued, and stormed into the bedroom, where she stripped down to her underwear and climbed into bed with a huff. “I think you’ll find this is my summer break, so two weeks to do as I please. I don’t have to take orders from you.” Kyra winced and her hands flew to her mouth. She’d completely forgotten whom she was talking too, and tears immediately sprung at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“As if I care,” Gron answered with an impatient sigh, and he took a seat in an armchair across the room. It was the only other piece of furniture there, and despite it being a tight fit, would have to do. “Go to sleep,” he barked, and shut off the light. Kyra lay back and tried to get comfortable. She curled around herself fetus style, but still couldn't switch off.
“Why are you here?” she eventually whispered into the darkness. Panic had pierced her drunken haze, and she was worried she might be in trouble.
“I’ll tell you in the morning. Go to sleep now, Kyra.” She curled even tighter into a ball, and willed sleep to take her, but it was no use. After lying there for at least another hour, listening to Gron’s shallow breaths across the room, impatience began to creep in. She wondered if he was asleep or not, and got her answer when she climbed out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. “Leave the beers where they are,” Gron called over to her, and she mumbled a dopey affirmation, before stumbling inside and using the toilet. Kyra then pulled a baggy t-shirt out of her drawer to cover herself properly, and headed back to bed.
“Why don’t you guys drink?” she asked the shadow where she knew he was still sitting. Gron moaned something about her being a pain in the ass, and she heard him click his neck as though stretching.
“Alcohol doesn’t affect us the same way it does humans,” he answered, and when she stayed silent, he seemed to know she was waiting to hear more. “Rather than having fun, we get emotional. Mostly tearful, like a silly girl, but it can also make us angry.” Kyra couldn't stop from laughing loudly, and she was sure she heard him laugh too. “More so than usual,” he conceded. She snuggled back under her sheets with a smile, and was glad she finally felt at ease enough to drift off at last.
Sleep descended, but with it brought strange dreams of being chased through the woods and bound, gagged, beaten and kept prisoner in a muddy cage. She tried her hardest to fight against the faceless captor, but it was no use. He cut her arms and legs with a curved blade that scooped through the flesh and left her blood dripping onto the floor. Rats and mice licked at both the crimson droplets and her wounds, and she could do nothing but cry in vain for help that didn’t come.
When the morning sun’s rays pulled her from the dream, Kyra groaned, but was actually grateful for the rude awakening. She sat up, grabbed her glasses from the bedside table, and put them on while blinking
away the sleep. Gron wandered out of the bathroom, his hair wet from a recent shower, and she watched him through pounding eyes.
“You really are here, then? I didn’t dream it,” she asked, and he nodded.
“Seems to me your dreams are far worse than a simple visit from your superior officer. Care to tell me what had you crying out and flailing around in your sleep?” She shook her head. “Hmm. I thought not.”
Kyra climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom before either of them said another word. She knew he didn’t really care about her nightmares. He’d made it perfectly clear in class how he felt about humans. But at the same time, every now and again that kind side of him seemed to come out, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. She took a shower, brushed her hair and teeth, and got dressed. Only when she felt ready to face whatever he’d come to tell her, whether good or bad, did she emerge.
“So, what’s all this about then?” she perched on the end of the bed, and noticed that he’d straightened it in her absence. You can take the soldier out the army, but you can’t take the army out of the soldier, she thought with a smile.
“I’ve reviewed the exercise footage,” Gron replied, and she felt her brow furrow. She’d had no idea their training was recorded, and apprehension sent her heart flying into her mouth. “I know Sergeant McDermott tried to detain you during the exercise. One might argue it was his role as a pretend rebel to do so, however I believe he was wrong.”
“Why?” her hoarse voice was barely audible, and Gron stared into her eyes.
“He shouldn’t have been there. He was supposed to go straight to the central camp with all the others. Silas had an unfair advantage, and knew you were clever enough to see the symbols. He sat in wait and attacked when you bypassed the rebel area, is that a correct assessment?” Kyra could do nothing but nod, and he seemed pleased. “He wanted you to fail, didn’t he? He didn’t want to lose you, but…”
“But he did anyway because I couldn't forgive him for sabotaging my career,” she finished his sentence for him. “What made you suspicious?”
“Your reaction the following morning. If you took another path, you should technically have crossed that line in first-place because the others all encountered rebels and had to fight their way out. I needed to see for myself what had affected your time, and was disgusted when I saw how he’d treated you.”
“I thought you didn’t care about humans?” she asked, and had attempted to add a teasing element to her tone, but it just came out as bewilderment.
“Let’s keep it our secret,” Gron told her, and tears quickly started falling from her tired eyes. She buried her face in her hands, and let them fall. “I came to tell you Lieutenant Psy has reconsidered his recommendation on the grounds of an unsanctioned personal agenda by one of the Training Commanders.”
“What?” She looked up from her hands.
“You’ve made elite training, Kyra. When leave is over, pack your bags and head out on the first hovercraft to Alaska,” he said, and handed her the three signed recommendation letters, along with a badge signifying her new rank of Lieutenant. She took them and continued to sob for a few minutes, while Gron waited patiently for her to calm down. He didn’t offer her a shoulder to cry on or a hug like Brona would’ve, but he stood guard over her, and his presence helped Kyra deal with the realization that something life-changing had just happened.
“You couldn't have told me this last night?” she teased when she’d found her voice again, and Gron laughed.
“You were a mess, and I mean it. Stay off the booze from now on, okay?”
“It’s difficult not to try and escape your thoughts when you’re told everything you’ve worked so hard for was just ripped away. And all because the person you thought you could trust betrayed you…”
“Well not any more, and trust me, he’ll be dealt with.” Kyra actually cringed at the thought of her being the reason for Silas getting punished, and despite him having hurt her far deeper than just physically, she shook her head.
“Please don’t stop him progressing further. Silas believes in himself for the first time since he joined up, and I’d never forgive myself if he lost that again. Give him extra duties, or send him to a base where they only serve gruel and have to live in the dirt.” She laughed at the sheer thought, and Gron smiled.
“I’ll see what I can do, and all I’ll get Psy to say is that you’ve been reassigned.” Kyra liked the sound of that, and felt her burdens lift from her once heavily laden shoulders. Gron stretched and grinned, clearly having had enough of the depressive conversation. “So, how about you show me around the city before I head back to base? Starting with breakfast,” he added, and beamed when he saw the shock on her face. “Thraks need to eat too, you know?”
She knew all right, but never suspected one would want to spend time with her doing so. She guessed it was out of nothing but pity. He was clearly making sure she was okay before leaving, and wondered if he needed convincing that she’d be in the right place at the right time come the end of the week.
They left the bedroom and wandered down to breakfast, where they were met with confused stares. Humans still really had no clue when it came to Thrakorian’s. Those middle-class humans staying in the hotel clearly had enough credits to have learnt a thing or two, yet still acted like Gron was a walking sci-fi show for them to watch with interest. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and part of her wondered if he quite liked being both feared and coveted at the same time. Most humans would give anything to have a Thrakorian friend or lover, but ninety-nine percent of the human population was denied anything of the sort. Only those already on the inside had them kinds of relationships, and they would never share their powerful lovers with the world, or their insider knowledge of them. She’d been lucky, or privileged enough to learn because of her training, but everyday humans weren’t so well informed. The mystery was clearly an aphrodisiac, and Kyra told him her thoughts as they ate huge portions of food and drank numerous coffees together.
“So, in short—Thraks equal gods, or so you’ll have us believe…”
“You’re spot-on, and damn right. You humans had every chance to take care of yourselves without our help, and you failed. Since we came along, you’ve not only thrived, but come back from the brink of chaos and eventual extinction.” He told her matter-of-factly. “I knew you were ready for elite. Your mind really does see right through all the dirt and chaos others get hung up on. You see the anomalies, truths and injustices in every waking moment. You’ll go far,” he added, and she blushed.
“I can’t thank you enough for not only finding me to tell me the wonderful news, but also for having believed I’d been wronged. You’re actually a pretty nice guy, Gron.”
He quickly shushed her, and she laughed. He had a reputation to protect after all.
Kyra expected him to leave straight after breakfast was over, but Gron surprised her again by dragging her out into the bright sunshine with him. He hailed a cab, and ordered the driver to take them downtown. She was surprised by his choice of destination, and instinctively went to pass her wrist over the chip-reader, but he stopped her.
“Thrakorian’s don’t pay for cab journeys, or anything else for that matter,” he said, and she sat back in the seat, shaking her head incredulously.
“Then why do we?” she asked, watching him intently.
“Because when you had free reign you nearly ruined both your race and this planet. Control is key to keeping your kind in check, and part of that is ensuring you work for your meals and the roofs over your heads. We know the value of a hard day’s work, and do it each and every day without the need for monetary gain or putting a value on our efforts. Human’s need reminding of their misdemeanors, and the credit-system is the perfect way.”
“The cattle control their own food, shelter and lifestyle—how convenient,” she retorted, and stared out the window as the city flew by.
Before long, the cleaner and less cramped roads and b
uildings started to disappear, and the lower-class areas of the city she knew far too well came into view. The cabbie eventually slowed, and stopped outside a building Kyra had promised herself she’d never visit again. The Violet Street foster homes were just as they'd been when she left three years before, and she begrudgingly climbed out of the car when Gron led the way. He instructed the driver to wait for them, and she was glad to hear it. Hopefully it meant they weren’t staying long.
“What do you see on these streets, Kyra?” Gron asked, and ignored the surprised faces of the men and women trying to figure out why they had a Thrakorian visitor. “Do you see a childhood spent in poverty? A youthful innocence taken from you by the pressures of society? Or perhaps a life you vowed to yourself you’d never come back to?”
“Can I choose all three?” She squirmed under his scrutiny.
“Of course. And don’t ever forget it,” he replied. “Next time someone gets in your way, you never stop fighting back. I want you to promise me you’ll never live in a place like this again. Pack your bags and board that hovercraft for Alaska when summer leave’s over. Never look back to here, or Fort Angel again. You're worth more, so go and get it.”
Kyra’s heart suddenly leapt at the sheer thought of what path her life was about to take. Everything was going to change, just like they had three years ago when she’d taken Silas’ hand and joined the army. But this time, nothing would stop her from staying strong.
“You got it, boss,” she promised him, and beamed up at the mammoth man in the dingy light of the dirty slums.
That night, and each one after, Kyra went back to the hotel bar to enjoy her last few days away, but she decided against ordering beers or shots. She stuck to water or soda, and found she could still enjoy the company of the men and women enjoying their beverages, without the buzz she’d become so reliant on. Blue tried to question her about her Thrakorian visitor, but she politely told him to keep out of it, and was glad when he let it go.
