Hi
Gerry! Yes, you certainly called it. :mrgreen: And personally, I'm surprised it wasn't Emily throwing that pot of soup.
First she takes a stand that causes a year long fight with her daughter, then she's basically shamed into taking in two injured aliens followed by an injured human whose plight highlights the fact that humans aren't exactly angels. Add to that an alien with a big mouth and a big attitude, stir in a (justifiably) angry lieutenant, and I can see Emily needing a visit to the firing range to get it out of her system. :P
Happy Easter to you and yours!
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-NINE
June 7, 1950, 3:30 p.m.
Proctor residence
"I sure wish I could come in with you," Anthony said wistfully.
Dee smiled apologetically as they stopped outside her house. "I know. I'm sorry. But with the way Mama gets, it's probably better that you don't. I'll tell you everything later."
"Everything?" Anthony repeated hopefully.
"Everything," Dee said, delighted that, for the first time, she could say that with confidence. No more sifting through information for bits and pieces relatively safe to reveal. Someone she trusted that she could confide in completely. It was a wonderful feeling.
"Okay," Anthony said reluctantly. "Well....see you later."
"Later," she promised, watching him walk—no, more like trudge—down the street to his own house. He was deeply disappointed to be missing all the excitement after being in the thick of things yesterday, and she knew what that felt like. Once your world got bigger, it was hard to accept it growing small again despite all the problems this particular variety of "bigger" could bring.
Dee went to the side door and was just about to open it when she heard voices in the kitchen. Two voices, to be exact, her mother's and one other. She hesitated for a moment with her hand on the door handle before changing her mind and heading for the front door instead, opening and closing it very quietly. Her mother and Mrs. Brazel were talking in the kitchen, and her mother sounded upset. Dee's eyes darted from the kitchen to the stairs, torn between eavesdropping and slipping upstairs to see what she wasn't supposed to have seen this morning. A moment later she was up the stairs, careful to avoid the squeaky step.
Dropping her book bag in her room, Dee tiptoed to the door of the guest room. It was open, with Marana asleep in the rocking chair by the window and no sign of Malik. Was this it? Was all the secrecy this morning really just a "do not disturb" sign like her parents had said? Instinct told her it wasn't, but there was definitely nothing strange here now. Disappointed, Dee headed back toward the stairs, and when she passed her parents' bedroom, she noticed someone in their bed. Was that her father? No—her father's hair was dark, but certainly not that long. She crept into the room, moving slowly around the end of the bed.
It was a woman, a young woman with long dark hair that spread over the pillow. She was wearing one of her mother's nightgowns and curled on her side, asleep. Was this Malik? But she'd never seen Malik look like a woman, and why would he be wearing her mother's nightgown? Puzzled, Dee returned to the guest room. Marana's eyes were open now, looking at her quizzically.
*Is that Malik in there?* Dee asked.
*No,* Marana answered.
*Then who is it?*
*I'm sure your mother doesn't want me to tell you that.*
Dee's eyebrows rose. *Which means you'd love to tell me. So tell me—who is that woman in there?*
*She is a nurse at the military base,* Marana replied without so much as a moment's hesitation.
*What's a nurse from the base doing here?*
*She was sick.*
* 'Sick'?* Dee repeated. *Why bring her here if she's sick?*
*Because of the reason she was sick,* Marana answered. *Her superiors were experimenting on her.*
*Experimenting....* Dee stopped, her mouth dropping open. *You mean...you mean they were doing exactly what Mama's so mad about you doing to us?*
*Their goals differed, but basically, yes,* Marana said, a note of deep satisfaction in her voice.
*Wow!* Dee said, plopping down on the end of the bed. *I bet that took the wind out of Mama's sails!*
*If that means what I think it does, then I'm afraid not,* Marana noted bitterly. *You mother remains as hostile as ever.*
*Just like you,* Dee said casually as Marana's eyes flashed. *So did you fix her? The nurse, I mean. Is that why they brought her here?*
*I helped,* Marana said. *But she needed more than I could do for her.* She paused. *Brivari healed her.*
Brivari. Dee's eyes widened, her mouth falling open for the second time in as many minutes. *Brivari was
here?* she breathed, hardly able to believe her ears...or her mind, given that this was telepathic speech. *Here in this house? My mother let him in? When? How come I didn't know about this?*
Marana's eyes drifted over her shoulder. "Perhaps you should ask her yourself," she said out loud.
Dee whirled around to find Emily in the doorway. "Were you going to tell me Brivari was here, or were you just going to keep it a secret so you wouldn't have to admit that you caved!" Dee said angrily.
Emily's eyes flicked past Dee to Marana, who was wearing a small smile. "Can't you keep your mouth shut for even five minutes?" Emily demanded.
"I never opened my mouth," Marana answered serenely. "Your daughter speaks telepathically, remember?"
"Downstairs," Emily ordered.
"Why?" Dee retorted. "Are you afraid she'll tell me something else you don't want me to know?"
"Downstairs
now," Emily repeated severely. "And keep your voice down! Someone's sleeping!"
"So I heard—but not from you," Dee said furiously as she stalked past her mother, who followed her downstairs and steered her into the dining room. "So that's why you and Daddy rushed me out of the house this morning!" Dee exclaimed before Emily could say anything. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
"Of course we were," Emily said in exasperation. "I was going to talk to you when you got home, but of course you bypassed me and went sneaking upstairs before I had a chance to say anything. Aren't you the one who was always complaining that I never listen? Now who's not listening?"
"You lied to me!" Dee announced, annoyed that her mother had a point.
"We did no such thing," Emily answered in her I'm-trying-not-to-lose-my-temper voice. "You were so tired that you didn't wake up, and after the day you had yesterday, I wasn't in a big hurry to see you in the middle of the mess we found ourselves in last night."
"You mean with the nurse," Dee fumed. "The nurse upstairs that
our people were experimenting on.
Our people, Mama! How do you like that?"
"No better than I ever have," Emily said pointedly. "I objected to it during the war, I objected to it when Jaddo was the target, and I object to it now. I object to this behavior no matter who's doing it or who the victims are. I believe I've been very consistent on this point."
"But not about Brivari," Dee argued. "After all your caterwauling, you let him come back! He used the healing stones, didn't he? Just like he did with me. He used what you were mad at him about, and you
let him—"
"Of course I let him!" Emily exclaimed, her temper finally flaring. "I wasn't going to let that woman die just because I don't agree with the way Brivari acquired the means to save her!"
"But if you don't agree with him, then why let him back in?" Dee demanded. "Why let him use what you think he's not supposed to have? You're not consistent on
that point, are you, Mama?"
Dee waited for a return salvo, but none came; her mother was staring at her in....shock? Amazement? Disbelief? Whatever it was, the silence it produced continued for several long, awkward seconds before Emily spoke again.
"Who are you?" she whispered. "You can't be my daughter, because my daughter is not this selfish."
"This isn't about me, Mama!" Dee objected.
"No, it isn't," Emily agreed. "It's about a woman upstairs who would have died had I not let Brivari intervene. Did you hear me, Deanna? She would have
died. Would you prefer that I'd left her to die just so I could stay 'consistent'? Just so you could be 'right'?"
"I didn't say that," Dee said, taken aback at her mother's reaction. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" Emily demanded. "I can't help but notice that you haven't displayed the slightest bit of interest in the nurse, haven't asked me if she's all right, or what happened to her, or anything. All you care about is winning the argument. Have I truly failed so badly as a parent that my daughter thinks winning an argument is more important than someone's life?"
"I...I care about her," Dee protested, flushing. "I just....I just..." She stopped, realizing that the specifics of the nurse's ordeal, whatever it had been, hadn't even crossed her mind. Not once.
"I didn't let my personal feelings interfere with Brivari doing whatever he needed to do to save that woman's life," Emily continued, sounding deeply disappointed rather than angry. "But you're not willing to do that, are you? For you, it's all about being 'right'. That's all that matters. Someday, Deanna, you're going to learn that life is not all right or wrong, black or white, this or that; it's one hell of a lot messier than that. Check back with me when you've figured that out, and we'll talk."
"Where are you going?" Dee exclaimed as Emily headed for the kitchen. "You can't just walk away!"
"I have nothing more to say," Emily said firmly, "other than I hope your self-righteous indignation makes you happy. Nothing else seems to. Not even someone's life being saved."
Emily went back into the kitchen, the door swinging quietly closed behind her as Dee stood in the dining room, frozen to the spot and feeling like she'd just been slapped.
******************************************************
6:00 p.m.
Yvonne stirred, stretching first one leg, then the other. She was warm, pleasantly warm, and for a moment she just lay there, basking in the warmth, enjoying it. And the softness....her bed had never felt this soft and roomy. Couple that with the warmth, and she could have lain here for a very long time indeed. And then she made the mistake of opening her eyes.
It took a full minute for the jarring sensation of displacement to subside, for her to remember the awful reason why she was in this strange double bed in an unfamiliar bedroom wearing unfamiliar pajamas. On the plus side, she no longer felt weak and shaky, or like she'd been kicked in the stomach as she had this morning. The food that the woman who lived here had insisted she eat had done her good, and even close inspection revealed no physical signs of what she'd been through last night. Whatever Brivari had done, he'd done it well.
"Hi."
Yvonne turned to find Stephen hovering uncertainly in the bedroom doorway. Poor Stephen. She'd been absolutely awful to him earlier, yelling at him, and throwing things, and just plain raving. It almost seemed like a dream now, like it hadn't really happened. "You can come in," she said, feeling herself color at the memory of their last encounter. "I promise I won't throw anything at you."
"Wouldn't really blame you if you did," Stephen answered, looking nonetheless relieved as he walked into the room, his hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets. "How are you feeling?"
"Good," Yvonne answered, pushing herself into a sitting position as Stephen sat down on the edge of the bed. "I don't feel sick, or different, or....anything. It's like it never happened."
"Amazing," Stephen murmured, taking her hand. "You were so sick....we thought you were going to die. If Malik hadn't found Brivari—"
"But he did," Yvonne said gently, squeezing Stephen's hand. "He did find him, and I'm all right now. Don't waste your time dwelling on what didn't happen."
"Right," Stephen answered, sounding unconvinced. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of paper. "I talked to Brisson. These are the notes I took. Do you want to see them now?"
"Yes," Yvonne said firmly.
She spent the next several minutes reading as Stephen sat silently beside her. Some of the information was new, but most was familiar, and all of it clarified certain things that had happened in the past three years which had seemed odd at the time. She read the notes over several times before finally setting the paper down.
"Thank you for finding all this out for me, Stephen," she said gently. "I know that must have been hard for you."
"You have no idea how much I wanted to strangle Brisson's scrawny little neck," Stephen muttered, staring at the floor.
"Look.....I know you don't want to hear this right now," Yvonne said, "but it wasn't his fault."
"That's not what you said this morning."
"I know," Yvonne answered, flushing all over again at how she had behaved. "But I've had a lot of time to think it over, and I think Brisson's telling the truth when he says he tried to stop Pierce. He did try to warn me several times. He said something about Pierce not having my best interests at heart, and once he asked me to let him know if I wasn't feeling well—"
"But he didn't
tell you," Stephen interrupted. "All that pussyfooting doesn't mean a damned thing when he knew what was going on!"
"But what good would that have done?" Yvonne said, having already thought through this several times. "Look, Pierce was prepared for me to find out, eventually at least—he could have carted me off without you ever knowing what happened or why. And if Pierce found out that Brisson had told me, you know what he'd do to him. Or maybe he'd have Cavitt do it, but the point is, Brisson risked his life by trying to make certain Pierce didn't get what he wanted."
"I still think he should have told you," Stephen grumbled, "and he definitely shouldn't have participated in it."
"And then Pierce would have replaced him—or worse—and whoever that replacement was might have been much more willing to go along with it," Yvonne pointed out. "Stephen, we all have something to regret these past three years. We've all followed illegal orders or done things that have made us cringe. You, me, Brisson....all of us."
"Even the aliens," Stephen murmured.
"What do you mean?"
Stephen didn't answer for so long that Yvonne became alarmed. "What is it?" she asked sharply. "Has something happened to John?"
"No," Stephen said. "He's fine. I just....I learned some things from the Proctors about John's people. About why they came here, how they know so much about us."
Yvonne's eyes widened. "You mean they lied to us?"
"No. What they've told us is true; they just didn't tell us the whole story."
"And what exactly is the 'whole story'?" Yvonne asked, not at all certain that she wanted to know.
"That their people had been coming here for several years before their king was deposed. That's how they knew about us, knew to come here, knew that their enemies couldn't survive here."
"Coming here for....what?"
"For just what Walker said," Stephen answered. "Our brains."
"Our.....brains?" Yvonne echoed.
"I'm not certain I have this right," Stephen said slowly, "but from what I understand, we humans don't use as much of our brains as we could be. Does that make any sense?"
"Actually, it does," Yvonne said. "It sounds a lot like what I read in those books Pierce gave me. But what does that have to do with the aliens?"
"Well, the aliens found a way to get all the cylinders firing," Stephen said. "They know how to use the parts of our brains that we don't. You know all those powers they have, blowing holes in walls and whatever? Those are all human powers. Only the shapeshifting and the mind speech are theirs. The rest comes from us."
Yvonne felt her insides clutch much the way they had this morning. "Comes from us....how?"
Stephen hesitated, dropping his eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything about this now."
"Stephen!" Yvonne exclaimed. "Comes from us
how? What did they do?"
Stephen sighed, staring at his hands. "They experimented on us. On children, to be specific. They claim they never killed anybody, just knocked them out and took samples, or something. Assuming that's even possible."
Yvonne lay back down, stunned. "It might be," she said after a moment. "They can reproduce tissue, grow new organs....and regrow people," she added softly, as an oddly shaped puzzle piece fell into place. "I could never figure out why the babies in those sacks looked human, but—"
"Human?" Stephen broke in. "When did you see the sacs?"
"In Brivari's mind the night the aliens first attacked, when he did that...that 'connection' thing so he could see who was leading the enemy aliens. I saw some things in his mind too, and one of them was the babies in those sacs...and they were human fetuses. If that's true, I'll bet they're giving them human bodies and human brains, not just the bits of human brain tissue we found during the autopsies."
"Well, whatever they did, it caused quite a stir here," Stephen said. "When the Proctors found out, Mrs. Proctor kicked Brivari out of the house; she only let him back in last night because you were dying. Her daughter got mad because she kicked him out, and her husband's caught in the middle." Stephen stood up and walked to the window, thrusting his hands in his pockets. "And he's not the only one. When Mr. Proctor told me last night, I was so worried about you that I didn't really process it, but later today, I remembered, and...." He paused, turning to face her. "The only reason Brivari was able to heal you is because of what they did to those children, but still....are we doing the right thing, Yvonne? Should we be helping these people after what they've done?"
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, Stephen gazing out the window and Yvonne at the ceiling, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally Yvonne sat up, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. "During the war, some nurses refused to work on floors with enemy soldiers, but I never did that. I cared for all of them no matter which side they were on. It wasn't their fault; they were just pawns on a chessboard that someone else made."
Stephen shook his head. "This is different. Brivari and John worked for the king, and the king is responsible for what they did here."
"But Brivari and John aren't," Yvonne said, "or not John, at least. He guarded a general, remember? That has nothing to do with medical experiments. And we know they weren't free to do as they wished, so how could they have objected? Stephen, look at
our people," she continued when he didn't respond. "Look what they've been up to these past three years. Remember the alien who surrendered to you? The alien scientist, the woman, asked me about him today, about how he died. She called him 'one of the greatest scientific minds' of her world. One of their greatest scientists, gunned down while he was surrendering. Remember what Cavitt wanted to do to John in the beginning, what he almost
did do to John when Major Lewis was going to do a 'living autopsy'? And what about what Pierce was trying to do to me? We're hardly blameless. I can't change the past, anyone's past, but I can change the future. And Brivari saved my life. How can we turn our backs on them after that, even if we don't agree with everything their people have done? We need to help John escape."
"You're sure?" Stephen asked quietly.
"Positive," Yvonne said firmly.
"Good," he said, sounding relieved. "I didn't want to leave him there either; I guess I just needed to reason it out with somebody. The escape is still set for Friday, so that gives us a day to figure out how to get you as far away from here as possible."
"You won't need to," Yvonne said. "I'm going back."
Stephen blinked. "Going back where?"
"To the compound," Yvonne answered. "I want you to take me back tonight."
******************************************************
"I don't hear anything," David said, leaning heavily against the counter as Emily handed him a freshly washed dish to dry. Those few hours of sleep he'd had this morning hadn't nearly been enough. "How long has he been up there?"
"About half an hour," Emily replied, glancing toward the ceiling and the second floor, which had been quiet since Captain Spade's arrival. "She hasn't had any more outbursts since lunchtime, and I've kept that infernal scientist away from her. What did she say when you told her?"
"Nothing," David answered, recalling the stony silence with which Marana had greeted both the tray of food he'd ferried upstairs and the news that Malik was still alive.
Emily snorted softly. "Figures."
"I'm more interested in what
that one isn't saying," David noted. "She's not crowing, she's not arguing, she's just....not."
Emily swung her head around to follow his gaze. Dee was sitting at the dining room table doing her homework, her head bent over her history textbook, papers and notebooks strewn about. She'd been very, very quiet after their altercation this afternoon, saying absolutely nothing about Brivari, the nurse, or anything alien of any kind. Dee and silence were old friends, but usually that silence was a sullen silence of the "I'm right, and you're wrong, and I'm never going to let you forget that" variety which infused even the most mundane interactions with disapproval. But this time, her silence was different. This silence was of the head-hanging, almost abashed variety which had her responding to simple inquiries with neither prompting nor sarcasm.
"I told you," Emily said, setting a casserole dish in the drainer. "She did the expected 'you're a hypocrite' routine that both of us knew she would do. I pointed out that I let Brivari in to save the lieutenant's life, and I'm called a hypocrite; if I hadn't, she would have died, and I would have been called a murderer. I swear, I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't."
"But that doesn't explain why she's so quiet," David said. "The two of you have had this argument a dozen times over the past year, and now you let him back in and she's not ringing church bells? What didn't you tell me, Em?"
Emily set another stack of plates in the dishwater. "Well....I may have pointed out to her that she was behaving like a selfish brat."
"You definitely left that part out," David said dryly.
"David, you should have heard her," Emily said, sotto voiced, "carrying on about me not being consistent and not asking one question—
one question—about either Brivari or the nurse! What kind of child are we raising?"
"The kind who needs to get her priorities in order," David said calmly, "just like every other child. She's eleven; the people I worry about are the ones who make it to adulthood and act just like our eleven year-old. And we haven't even hit adolescence yet."
"Dee was born an adolescent," Emily said wearily. "Which should make her real adolescence all the more interesting. Perhaps I should save time and start drinking heavily now."
"You don't need to," David said, setting down the dish towel and rubbing her shoulders. "Whatever you said to her, it obviously did her good."
"Then why do I feel like such a lousy parent?" Emily murmured.
"Because you wish it had gone differently," David said, "just like I'm sure you wish you could have brought Lieutenant White back from the brink some other way. But it needed doing, you did it, and it worked."
Voices rose overhead. A moment later, footsteps pounded down the stairs, two sets, accompanied by a male voice exclaiming, "Yvonne,
no!"
"Wonderful," Emily sighed. "This is just how it started earlier."
Lieutenant White appeared in the kitchen wearing Emily's robe and slippers, her long dark hair falling around her shoulders. Behind her was Captain Spade, his expression one of complete exasperation. "Yvonne, stop! You can't—can you talk to her?" Spade demanded of David and Emily. "She's hell bent on going back there!"
"What?" Emily said in astonishment.
"Mrs. Proctor, I know what you're thinking," Lieutenant White said steadily, "and you're wrong. I'm not....like I was earlier," she finished, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. "I need to go back to the base. What shape is my uniform in?"
"I...well...not very good," Emily confessed. "I mean, the jacket is all right, but the skirt and hose....I'm afraid all the bleach in the world isn't going to clean that up."
"Yvonne, you're crazy!" Spade exclaimed. "You can't go back there after what he did to you!"
"Perhaps you should think this over," David began.
"With all due respect, Mr. Proctor, I've had plenty of time today to 'think it over', and I've made my decision," the lieutenant replied. "What's happened to me is not going to stand in the way of finishing what I started. What
we started," she added, looking directly at Spade. "It'll all be over soon."
"I don't care about that!" Spade retorted. "My main concern right now—"
"Is not under discussion," the lieutenant interrupted. "This is my decision, Stephen, and I've made it."
"Yvonne—" Spade began.
"Emily, why don't you take Lieutenant White downstairs and show her the uniform?" David broke in.
"Right," Emily said briskly, shaking her hands off and drying them on a towel. "Lieutenant, come with me. Perhaps your mother was a better laundress, and you could give me some suggestions."
"Captain," David said, cutting off Spade's latest protest as Emily and the lieutenant headed downstairs, "may I have a word with you? Dee, take your homework upstairs, please," he added to his wide-eyed daughter as he closed the door to the dining room.
"Mr. Proctor, we can't let her go back to the base," Spade said earnestly as soon as Dee's footsteps had faded upstairs.
"I'm not certain there's much we can do about it," David said. "She's not a prisoner here. If she wants to leave, I'm not going to stop her."
"But look what happened to her!" Spade exclaimed. "Pierce will try again; I know he will!"
"I would wager the lieutenant is more aware of what happened to her than either of us will ever be," David pointed out, "which means she's also aware of the possible consequences of her returning. What did she mean about it all being over soon?"
Spade's eyes dropped. "I see," David said slowly. "Well....if she thinks the odds are good that whatever is happening 'soon' will be successful, then perhaps that's why she's willing to go back."
"But what if Pierce finds out?" Spade demanded. "What if someone talks? He had it all worked out what he was going to do with her if he managed to get her pregnant. He's a psychiatrist, and he was going to ship her off to some mental hospital or other. He could still do that, Mr. Proctor, and I'd be hard pressed to stop him."
"I don't know what to tell you," David said, shaking his head. "I don't know the lieutenant, so I don't know what she's usually like. Is she acting like herself right now? Does she seem lucid? Is this in keeping with her usual demeanor?"
Spade sighed and turned away, his hands in his pockets. "Oh, that's Yvonne all right," he said heavily. "And this certainly isn't the first time she's walked into the fire, or that either of us have, for that matter. It's just....." He stopped, his back to David, his unfinished sentence hanging in the air.
"It's just that now you're in love with her, so now it feels different?" David ventured.
Spade hesitated a moment, then nodded, his back still turned. "Something I do have experience with is being in love with a strong-willed woman," David said gently. "Want my advice?"
"Back off?" Spade said dully.
"No; tread lightly," David said. "Tell her what you think, and tell her if you don't agree with her, but realize that she's going to do what she wants. That doesn't mean you have to go along with it, but agreeing to disagree is a necessary skill for living with someone like that. Believe me, I know."
Footsteps sounded on the basement stairs, and a moment later, Emily and Lieutenant White emerged, the latter looking a bit paler now that she'd seen the condition of her uniform. "Stephen, I need you to go back to the compound and get another uniform out of my closet," she said to Spade. "And I need a pair of stockings, although my shoes are all right, and—"
"Yvonne, for God's sake, don't be so stupid!" Spade exclaimed, ignoring David's warning look and Emily's raised eyebrows.
"May I make a suggestion?" David interjected. He waited until both Spade and the lieutenant had nodded, the latter grudgingly, before continuing. "I know you have your reasons for wanting to go back," David said to Yvonne, "but you two have some things to sort out before you go. For example, the Captain had a cover story for your absence that he never imagined would be challenged by your reappearance. Are you both clear on the details of that cover story so you can tell the same tale? Are you ready to talk about your ill relative, or whatever it was, in a convincing way? What are you going to say when you're asked why you have no luggage, no handbag, none of the usual things women travel with?"
David waited for these inconvenient details to sink in before continuing. "Consider spending one more night here, lieutenant. Work out your story with the Captain tonight so that you're both clear on what's what, and then he can come pick you up tomorrow and take you back." He paused. "I don't know this 'Pierce' you're both talking about, but I do know Cavitt. And with someone like Cavitt, you can't just go blundering back in there without a second thought. Am I right?"
"Of course you're right," Spade said firmly. "Yvonne?"
Reluctantly, she nodded. "All right. One more night. But we can't wait any longer."
"Go ahead and use our bedroom to talk," Emily said. "Stay as long as you like, Captain." She waited until they'd left before letting out a long, slow breath. "What on earth was
that all about?" she whispered to David. "What would make her want to go back there after what happened?"
"They're planning an escape," David murmured.
Emily's eyes widened. "For Jaddo? He told you that?"
"Not in so many words," David allowed. "But if I'm right, I would imagine allies are in short supply...and the lieutenant is an ally. She's spent the last three years taking care of Jaddo."
"There's a job that would make anyone throw things," Emily said dryly. "But I do hope they get him out," she added seriously. "I know he's been lucky, but that luck can't hold out forever."
David nodded as they both returned to the dishes and the now cold dishwater, neither of them noticing the slight crack in the dining room door or the face that was pressed up against it.
******************************************************
It was very late when Malik finally returned to the Proctors' house after what easily ranked as the strangest day of his life, bar none. It had begun with an ally of a former enemy holding him at gunpoint, and ended with him running from former allies turned enemies. He'd had precious little time to ponder this turn of events, so mesmerized had he been by the effortless way Brivari led both Orlon and Amar astray, showing himself and then disappearing over and over with an ease that bespoke a great deal of practice. No wonder Brivari had been impossible for them to catch. Several times he had lingered as Orlon or Amar or both moved closer and closer, only to vanish so completely at the last minute that even Malik couldn't find him. He had employed this method to distract them when Spade was leaving the base this evening, and again when Malik had left, obviously not trusting Malik to be able to pull off a similar deception. Add to that the several demonstrations of Brivari's enhanced abilities that Malik had witnessed, and it wasn't hard to see why Royal Warders were so feared.
By all but humans, that is. Malik still couldn't get over the casual way Spade addressed Brivari, even needled him occasionally. Spade saw Brivari as, if not an equal, than at least a partner of a sort in the mutual endeavor of freeing Jaddo. All well and good for a valued and rare human ally, but Malik enjoyed no such position. He had kept his distance and his peace, doing as he was told without question or comment, most of which had involved tracking Orlon and Amar to see which areas of the base they were watching the most keenly and briefly showing himself in less watched areas to fragment their focus. It had been a relief to see Spade midday, to see a familiar face that wasn't likely to turn on him without warning, and a shock when Brivari had announced that Malik would be helping with the escape. He had offered nothing by way of explanation afterward, and Malik had asked for none. He was still alive, he was allowed to assist, and he was learning more than he ever had about how to be invisible. At the moment, that was enough.
Malik crept noiselessly up the stairs, noting that Lieutenant White was asleep in the girl's bed; the girl herself was curled in a sleeping bag on the floor of her parents' bedroom, her father's snoring wafting through their partially closed door. Much as it pained Spade, Malik was glad to hear that the lieutenant was still willing to help with the escape. He certainly wouldn't have blamed her for declining, but there was something in her that he recognized; a stubbornness, a refusal to yield even when yielding seemed the best and most logical option. She was an enormous asset, one that he knew all of them would be glad to have. They could use any help they could get.
He paused in the doorway to the guest room; Marana was asleep, her back to the door. He knew why Brivari hadn't killed her yet; she was the only one capable of concocting a replacement serum. But the current escape plan didn't call for a replacement serum, and, if successful, would render any need for one obsolete. Brivari had sent Malik back to the Proctors to get some rest, apparently not trusting his ability to remain hidden while sleeping, or perhaps not trusting him at all, but Malik had other motives. He wanted to find out what Marana was thinking, where she stood in relation to all that had happened. Her being forced to participate in Lieutenant White's healing had left her too weak to be a threat at the moment, but afterwards, after Jaddo was free, Marana recovered, and Brivari not so distracted, things would be different. Then they would need another use for her, another compelling reason for Brivari not to kill her. Hopefully her skills as a bioscientist would make her too valuable to simply dispose of. Hopefully.
"Marana?" he whispered, bending over her.
She awoke with a start, drawing back in alarm until she saw who it was. "Malik! Where have you been? What happened to you?"
"Brivari knocked me out after I found him," Malik said, "but Spade said he came here last night?"
"Yes. He used a healing stone on the nurse....and he made me help him," she added bitterly. "The girl's father said that you'd been seen at the military base. Why didn't you come back here?"
"I was tracking Orlon and Amar," Malik answered. "I went back to the house, but they were already gone. All the emergents were dead."
"Of course they were," Marana whispered. "What did you expect?"
"I wanted to see for myself," Malik replied. "After that, I went to the base; Orlon, Amar, and Brivari are all there playing cat and mouse."
"But why did you stay there so long?"
"I wanted to be certain that Amar and Orlon weren't looking for us," Malik answered. "You'd want to know if they got any bright ideas about us being here, wouldn't you?"
"Why would they look for us?" Marana asked. "They think we're dead. Sit down," she said, sounding excited as she patted the bed beside her. "I have wonderful news!"
"You do?"
"Yes!" She leaned in closer. "Last night, that awful woman said something about the hybrids."
"She did?"
Marana nodded vigorously. "She knew they looked human. And she said something else about them today too. She's
seen them, Malik! Do you realize what that means?"
"What?" Malik asked faintly.
"It means she might know where they are!" Marana exclaimed. "Just think—if we can find the hybrids, it doesn't matter who's on the throne at the moment, or who's chasing whom. If we find the hybrids, then
we're in power."
"How do you figure that?" Malik asked doubtfully. "If we find the hybrids, then we become a target, and Orlon and Athenor would add us to the list of those they'd like to capture, assuming the Warders don't kill us first."
"No!" Marana exclaimed. "If we know where they are, we can move them somewhere else. And if we're the only ones who know where they are, we have an incredible amount of power. Kill us, and no one will ever find them. Harm us, and we'll tip off the other side. We could do this, Malik," she said earnestly. "I'm a bioscientist; the hybrids should be with me, just like they would have been with Valeris had he lived. The humans trust you; they'll tell you things they'd never tell me. Help me find them. Help me..." She paused. "Help me get my life back."
"Marana," Malik said gently, "that wouldn't get you your life back. Even if we pulled it off and held everyone at bay for twenty years, eventually one of two things would happen: Either the hybrids would mature successfully, or they wouldn't. No hybrids means no power. Mature hybrids means we'll have to answer to the king."
"But we could try, couldn't we?" Marana persisted. "Just talk to them. I'll stay as long as it takes, I'll make nice with her, I'll—"
"I thought you hated it here."
"I do," Marana said, "but it's all worth it if that woman lets something slip. I'm sure these humans know where they are, or at least have an idea, and I'm willing to put up with just about anything while we try to find out. Just think, Malik! If we find them first,
we could be ruling Antar!"
Am I the only one who doesn't want to rule Antar? Malik thought wearily, laying down beside Marana as she chattered happily on. He'd had no intention of telling her that he was now with Brivari, at least until Jaddo was free, so he had carefully edited the excuse for his absence and braced himself for suspicion and hostility....but he'd never expected this. This was genuinely dangerous because the girl and her parents
did know where the hybrids were. And if Brivari learned that Marana was actively seeking that information from sources capable of giving it, no skills in the world would be able to save her.
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I'll post Chapter 130 next Sunday.
Although I'm not sure what she was thinking by throwing the soup Emily made. There's not much more that Emily can tell her. And Marana had nothing to do with Pierce or his experiments. Nor did Emily, of course. But I guess Yvonne has to vent her rage somewhere, as Emily herself so aptly pointed out to Spade earlier.
