Chapter Twelve: Mission Unforgivable
“I'm sorry, Buddy.”
I flinched. Sonata was still holding my hand. Was this shock? Who was talking to me? Bowles? Castlegar? Who? I checked the time, but it didn't read right. Six hours gone?
“Buddy?”
“Yes?”
It was the morning. Two in the morning. Bowles was explaining what happened. I listened harder and tried to focus on her grief-laden face. “Pilcrow had a weapon installed in his arm. No one knew. He shot Aaran. Sonata saved her life. She was the only one who could move quickly enough. Flakdragger's dead.”
“You don't need to-” That was Sonata.
“Somebody's gotta get angry!”
“I'm sorry,” I said.
“No, be quiet. Don't blame yourself. We're at war with these guys. A mine goes up, blows your legs off, whose fault is that? Just you listen.” Bowles logic was undeniable, but also detestable. “Doctor Dryfuss says the projectile nicked her spinal column. They're rebuilding it, but she's not walking for a while. A long while. You're in charge. Aaran says so.”
“She's awake?”
She nodded, looking blearily at the blank wall in the mess, where I realized we were seated. “She's offline now, so don't try pinging her. Sonata's probably her hero, but she's not good.”
“I'm undamaged.”
Sonata's voice was as cold now as it had been during the attack. I craned my neck and gazed at her. Vapid. Emotionally vacant. Scared. I had seen the mode before. A diagnostic ping reported that her systems were out of balance, but she was–in fact–otherwise undamaged. It was a minor comfort that she was not lying to me.
“We need to get planetside.”
“Until Aaran can move we're staying by her side. I signed as her driver, so I need you to stay. Least for a while. Can't protect her myself.”
“You can, but we will stay.” A brief record search told me that Bowles had an older sister who resembled Aaran in many respects. Her attachment was natural and altruistic.
“Thanks.”
“I contacted Yale and Ayani. Yale can't drive, but he said he'll hire someone to drive if he has to. Ayani'll be here in a half hour.” Justine Bowles was either doubting her entire life or glad to be in the thick of it. She looked at me and tapped her temple with a finger.
[Yes?] I transmitted.
[Sonata's gone cold stone. You think she's blaming herself?] Bowles responded.
[She was doubtful to begin with. This has not eased her worry.]
[That's kinda cold. You're not doin' the same?]
I looked at her, then at Sonata, then back again. [Why did you want to become Aaran's driver?]
[I just did. She's a toughie, an' I like that. Like you too, if you don't mind?]
[Thank you. What will you do now?] When I said this she seemed disappointed, then a flicker of a smirk came and went.
[You don't know me much, Buddy, but this is how I go about things. I find some lost cause and jump on. Aaran's got a husband down there, and he's figurin' it out even tho he's healing up hard. They sewed his hand back on, you know that? He's pretty special.]
[They did? I was told he lost it.]
[I don't know, but what's it matter?]
[And you did not think to offer to pick him up?]
Her face went blank. [Well strap me to an arrowblade. You going to hold this place down?]
[I could make it an order.]
She grinned at me, then slapped my shoulder. [Nah. You don't hafta. Takes an hour, round trip. Elevator's running as usual now. See ya, boss.]
[Stay in touch. Circumstances may change.]
[Uh-huh.]
I had to agree with Aaran. She would do. Aaran attracts strength and inspires confidence. It is what Mishan would call 'a blessing', though I cannot verify the basis of her viewpoint. Any attempt to converse with Sonata was met with uncomfortable silence. She would deteriorate unless I could affect a change in her attitude, but I had no basis for doing so without Father on hand.
Her state had not triggered an emergency glyph as mine had, so he was not informed of her status, so I made an effort to correct that situation. Long distance transmissions channels were flooded, but I surmised that I could relay brief messages that would withstand packet loss if I was generous with TTL duration.
Then I was troubled by what to tell him. Aaran in surgery, Sonata out of commission, Laston dead, Ayani en route, Talon out of danger? Which of these was most vital? There was also the matter of Aaran's risk of ABS. To be undamaged, 144 characters was my limit.
“Buddy?”
I looked up. Ayani seemed tired and her uniform was stained with smoke and torn in several places. I rose and checked her movements for weakness. She reached the bench unaided, noticed and thanked me.
“Your operation was a success.”
She scoffed. “My Mother's a scratchplate. Like she was built to take damage. Shouldn't have come up to Talon.”
“You're not hurt?”
She glanced over her mussed up uniform. “Not a scratch. Not like someone was going to—do you get I'm telling you this mission was stupid?”
“Can we revert the events?”
Ayani was stultified, picking at a rough spot on the thigh of her pants. “Who ordered this? Oh... Hi Sonata.” Sonata returned her gaze but said nothing. Ayani made a strange face. “She okay?”
“She killed Laston Pilcrow.”
Ayani's eyes lowered. “That's right. Sorry. She's stressed out. I would be.”
“You would?” Sonata's voice startled Ayani.
She considered, then shrugged. “Sure. You think I wasn't sure about what my bosses told me? I didn't have to, but sometime in the future I might.” Her awkward way of avoiding—and saying—information protected by classified protocols. “Sometimes y' tie up your shoelaces in the morning but they don't stay tied.”
“I don't wear laced shoes...” Sonata replied, voice regaining a subtle, soft tenor. “I was certain I made a poor choice.”
“Maybe you did, but you sure didn't shoot my Mom.”
“You'd have killed her,” declared a voice of deadly charm and intent.
“Mishan, that's a crass thing to say,” Ayani snapped. “Trying to be funny?”
Mishan stood in the doorway, radiating anger and distress. Ayani's rebuke fell short. Behind her a tall felynx in black laid a hand on her shoulder. “You were not there.”
“Mishan. I'm sorry.”
She lifted her eyes at the sound of Sonata's empathy, inclined her head forward and sat down beside her. “I meant only that she wouldn't be in this pain.”
“Okay.”
Dreadful silence overcame the foyer. We could not discuss mission parameters, no one was hungry, and even social concerns fell to the wayside. I considered it poor timing to bring drama to the table, but Reins' glyph needed to be understood. I signed at Mishan, and she nodded.
[I was able to decrypt the glyph,] I told her.
[Then you have the primer.]
[That is what I have discovered. I utilized the key you provided to begin decoding the three layers underneath.]
[You're doing well.]
[Dust?]
[That was rude,] Mishan snapped.
[My apologies. How is Aaran?]
[She will recover, but will not be mobile for some time.]
[You are not upset by this?] His voice was very bit as authoritative as his presence.
[I don't know how to respond. Laston Pilcrow is dead.]
[What of the one who sent him on this quest?]
[They are not dead.]
He was quiet.
[What are you not saying, beloved?] Mishan's tone was strict, and it caused him to speak.
[You cannot wait until Aaran recovers to begin. What is your plan?]
[Representative Castlegar said they are trying to start a war.]
His light eyes narrowed. [And who are they?]
[They do not have a name.]
[I see. Buddy, he
is right. You are mistaken. You do not know your enemy, and biding time is a child's error. In a flickering they will have the advantage.]
I waited, certain they would elucidate me. [Is it not in the glyph?]
[It is. Are you content to wait?] Mishan's voice was only distinguished by its femininity, for the pair spoke as one.
[I am at a loss. Would knowing improve the chances of winning?]
[What would you win?] Dust's baritone carried a wisp of menace.
I heard a crunch. Ayani gasped and growled at me. I looked down. Between us I had bent the metal bench rim in my hand. “Sorry.” [This is aggravating.]
[Your mission has no walls and no foundation. What hope can you build upon it? What do you hope to find inside? Mishan is at the aid of your friend, and perhaps … I can be at yours.] His voice was reassuring, deep and slightly rugged. There was strength in his frame that could not be measured by competence. [Is this something you would accept?]
[I do not appear to be asking … but I am compelled to accept. I am also confused.]
He smiled softly and offered his hand. I took it, and then shook it. [I am Dust. Think on me and know your purpose. I will share my strength.]
“Excuse me.”
Who now? Doctor Dryfuss stood in the hallway entrance, fatigued but calm. Ayani, Mishan and I all rushed right toward him. He raised his hands and without an expression, impressing upon us his confidence. “The operation was a success. Aaran is out of danger.”
“She was in danger?”
“How was she hurt?”
The Doctor explained in detail that did not interest me except that she would be confined to bed for four weeks at minimum. Recuperation could take longer, but she would not lose any function or control. The projectile had passed through her stomach, which, he pointed out, was the main cause for concern.
“Buddy, she has asked to see you. Please keep it brief.”
I nodded and agreed that I would. In post-operative care, Aaran was a very different woman. She was haggard and pale. Eyes that could pierce facade barely followed my movements. It wasn't until seconds after my entry that she acknowledged me.
“You're in charge,” she informed me.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Her lips twisted. “Don't be miserable. Sonata's miserable too?”
I nodded. “She was. Ayani is helping.”
“Good. I can't run with you, but you better come to me. Later. Can't lose this fight.” The lids of her eyes drifted apart like she was benchpressing them. “Can't. Lose. Later. Now. Who's yer help?”
“Dust.”
“Yeah! Swift! Shiny! Shore is—hrm. Good good. Good.”
I waited, gauging her slow breathing and shuttered eyelids. Was she asleep? Yes. That was good. I had a lot of work to do. None too soon.
#To#Be#Continued#
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