Cassiel Winters 1: Sky's End (39 page)

And that’s why he came for me on Taxata.
Is any of it real? Yes!
My heart pushes away that doubt.
But why did he pretend not to know that I was a sifter? Why did he believe so strongly that ESE or SOSA had sent Daz on some secret mission?

Daz appears confused by my lack of immediate upset. Wait, maybe he doesn’t know about me and King being an item. Me and his best friend.

“Have you seen King?” I ask quietly.

He looks at me, as if guessing something’s up. “Yes. He’s just back today, a day after me. Why?”

Oh.
So I guess King hasn’t told him about us.

Daz is eyeing me strangely.

Change the subject!
“So what happened? How in the universe did you end up a hostage of that Thell’eon Prime Aardon?”

He shakes his head, then rubs his face.
Phew.
“I remember King walking me to the velo.” He whispers this next bit. “Promising to make up a cover, a mission report.”
So that’s what he was doing with Daria in that report, making up a cover! So between then and Daz’s actual kidnapping, he thought Daz was coming for me on Earth. But when Daz disappeared, King had to have known then that he was in trouble.
Why didn’t he just admit all this? Returning to full voice, Daz adds, “And that’s it. Nothing else.”

I stare at him, surprised. He means it. I know when Daz’s frustrated. He doesn’t know how he ended up in Prime Fuck Aardon’s clutches. He adds with disbelief, “O’Reilly says they suspect it was Lt. Lazarus. That he followed us, stunned me after King left, took me, and flew me straight into the bay of the waiting Horde nearby.”

“And?” I ask quietly.

“Nothing. I just . . .” He gives me a look, and I know he’s covering something.

Is he uneasy about Lt. Lazarus’s ‘guilt,’ too? It doesn’t make sense that Lt. Lazarus would be the one asking questions about Daz’s whereabouts if he was the reason for his kidnapping.

I momentarily wonder why King wasn’t in trouble for covering for Daz, then I think,
because they don’t know
. As a Lt. Colonel, there’s a lot King can get away with. A terrible, gray haunting feeling overcomes me.

“Cass.” Daz grabs my shoulder. “Are you okay? I mean, I know some of what you’ve been through.”

“I’m fine.” I smile, determined to alleviate his concern, to push aside mine own. “I’m as okay as okay is,” I say, using one of his favorite expressions. “Honest. Just a little distracted. And here’s a perfect example. How in the Jupiter did you get back to ESE?”

I assume ESE rescued him. I sit back, preparing to relish how they finally did it, how they destroyed Mr. Prime Fuck Aardon.

“Another Horde freed me.”

I choke on my espresso shot. Splattering coffee on me, coughing, I reach for a wipe.

Breathe.

I dab my watering eyes, leaning forward in my seat trying to hide my shock.

Impossible.
Recovered, I raise my head, and Daz’s watching me like ESE Eyes.

Suspicious.

“Prime Or’ic,” he says, then pauses and my stomach drops, “and his unit engaged Aardon in a battle and won. They left me on Planet XYV-000067 with a communicator so I could call ESE. I don’t mind telling you they lost a few in that fight, and made an enemy of that Horde with certainty. Any idea why they would do that, Cass?”

He asks me this with his fatherly tone. He adds, “ESE would like to know as well.”

I’m flabbergasted.

Or’ic rescued my brother.
Or’ic
. He and the others, they freed my brother, for what?

For nothing!
Lai’s dead. The rift on Taxata’s long gone. I’m here. They have no sift.

Why?

I should say something.
Say something!

All I can think of is Or’ic’s incredible lively face, his presence, his draw on me, those earnest dark eyes.
“Maybe I would teach you how to be human.”
How I feel weird inside when I let myself think about him.

“I-I don’t know,” I start shakily. “I can hardly believe he did it. When I escaped, there was a death, one of his men was killed.” I confess this to Daz, genuinely stunned, hoping that saying it out loud will somehow make it better, more tolerable.

“He didn’t say . . .? He didn’t tell you why he was rescuing you?” I add.

“We spoke very little. It happened quickly. He did say one thing. Now ESE has asked me to ask you to examine this closely for a coded message.”

I wait, numb, thinking,
Here it comes. Some of kind of veiled threat, some ultimatum.

“He said to tell you that rescuing me was a gift. A gift to Cassiel Winters. He was very specific that I should say to whom the gift was for, that I should say your name specifically. Why would he ask me to say that? Does it mean anything to you?”

Does it mean anything to me? Does it mean anything to me?
A gift for my sift
. We still can’t get the
Linor
bands off.
A gift for my lover. The book somewhere on his ship. A gift for Cassiel Winters.

Rescuing my brother, no strings attached.

Yes, yes, it does mean something to me.

My chest relaxes, maybe for the first time since I escaped. My shoulders ease. My head clears.

Daz is waiting for an answer, and so is ESE, no doubt.

Feign confusion! Shake your head!

“No, I don’t know why he would say that. I can’t think what it would mean.”

“Cass, did he—”

“Don’t ask me that. You can read all about it in the reports. Nothing bad. I’m fine.”

I give an exaggerated shrug, squishing my face at the same time. I mean, I can’t talk about stuff like
that
with him. Anyway, I think he’s relieved I won’t say more.

The awkward moment passes, and we hang out for a while . . . me cherishing every moment, and utterly and completely grateful to Or’ic!

Daz asks questions about other stuff that happened to me, and I tell him what I know ESE already knows. There’s no question he’s staying in SOSA with Earth’s safety at stake, but they did demote him for his deception. At least they aren’t charging him with attempted desertion. But I also know they’ll never trust us again. Who cares? Now that he’s here, alive, safe, I actually relax, and feel normal. Almost.

Before he leaves to answer a call on his com-tab, he reassures me he’ll be back as soon, and as much, as possible. Then he pauses, pulls out a device of some sort tucked inside his boot, and presses a button.

I observe him expectantly, but nothing happens.

“There,” he says. “The Eyes are blocked. Door’s jammed.”

What’s he doing? Fear, my old friend, knocks hard at my chest. I clasp my throat.

“No time,” he says. “Look, I wasn’t going to give you this.” I watch wide-eyed, breathless, as he pulls another object from his boot. “But the guy rescued me and, well, I had it checked out by the top brainiac in engineering. You know the one who created the shield, Hathaway,” he says quickly. “I figure if he couldn’t find anything dangerous in it, it was safe. So, here.”

I can’t believe what Daz has just placed in my hand.

“That Prime, he said he wanted you to have this, too.”

Daz continues, but his voice is far away. “Hathaway promised me it was just some record-history, with some images of the Horde. I didn’t think you would want it, but the look on your face, when I told you who rescued me, well, I figured you just might, and, fuck, well.”

I open my mouth, then close it.

“Hathaway fixed it so you could turn it on yourself whenever you wanted. You just press this button.” He points at adapter on the side that Hathaway installed.

“So there. They’re going to bang down the door any second. I gotta unjam the Eyes. You good?”

I close my hand tight around the portal that would lead me straight back to Or’ic, if I
choose
, and nod, eyes closed, exhaling.

“Yup. I’m good.”