The Paradox Initiative (25 page)

Kestrel stared
absently into the soft, bright flickering of the open flames. The sky had darkened all around them, and the forest lay hushed, black and still.

A while ago,
Wolfe had returned with kindling, and he had started a fire by briskly rubbing a stick against the crackling leaves and grass. He had quickly built it up until it lived on its own. Now, it cast a warm blanket of light over the ground around it, and scattered all manner of shadows onto the roof of the cave. Each time Kestrel breathed, the scent of earth, ash, must and pine flooded her. She held her arms around herself, trying to keep the cold from the stone at her back from seeping into the rest of her.

On the other side of the fire, Wolfe moved—tossed a bit of bark into the fire. It snapped.

“Hope one of those snares catches soon,” he commented. “It’s past time for supper.”

Kestrel almost smiled, studying the way the leaves curled up and withered in the wake of the flames.

“Are you cold?” he asked. She shrugged one shoulder.

“A little.”

He paused.

“I wish I could give you something to make you warmer.”

Kestrel took a painful breath.

“You did.”

He didn’t answer. She looked up at him. He was already watching her, his brows slightly drawn together. The flamelight flickered in his stunning eyes, casting the edges and surfaces of his face in golden contrast. And all at once, she
couldn’t
look away.

“So…” she said again. “When you go home…What will you do?”

He blinked.

“When I…When I go home? You mea
n if we find Jakiv and—”

“Yes,” she nodded. He regarded her seriously.

“You still think we will?”

“We’re not dead yet,” Kestrel reminded him. He
smiled ruefully.

“Th
at’s true. Well, I…” he sat up and took a thoughtful breath. “I always wanted to be a cattle rancher. I enjoyed the east coast and the country there, and also Missouri, but there’s no room for cattle. I also enjoyed riding full-out in a western saddle, and there’s no room for that, either.” He smiled again, to himself. “I wanted to…To go on adventures, find things nobody else had, build in places nobody’d even thought of yet. Try dozens of new things, see people no white man would see if he just stayed tucked away in some comfortable town someplace.” He picked up a stick and scraped the ground by the fire, then stuck the end into the flames. “Not sure I’m really in the right frame of mind for that, anymore,” he murmured. He canted his head, watching the stick. “I dunno, I think I’ll…I’ll build a bigger house this time. Or maybe…Maybe go back home. To my parents’ house. See if it’s still there. I never went back after they died. I could always rebuild it. It’s a big white house, big front porch, lots of land. Could settle down. Breathe for a while.” He fell silent, still prodding the edges of the fire. Kestrel swallowed hard.

“You think
Adelaide will like that?”

He suddenly frowned, and met her eyes.

“Adelaide?” He stopped, then gathered himself. “I haven’t really…Well, I guess when I talk to her... She’ll understand. I mean, she wanted to see the West, too—see new things. But after…When I tell her what happened…” He watched the fire.

“Do you look the same?” Kestrel asked.

His head came up again.

“What?”

“I mean,” she amended. “Apart from the…the tattoos. And the new scars and everything…”

He stared at her. Then, he shifted and tossed the stick in the flames.

“Sure,” he assured her. “I do. I mean, my hair was a little lighter, I think. From being out in the sun. And…Right, the tattoos. And scars.” He trailed off.

“And you’
ve probably picked up a little colorful language she’s never heard,” Kestrel remarked lightly. Wolfe laughed, and met her eyes. She gave him a quick smile back—and it broke. She lowered her head. His laugh stopped in his throat, and she heard him swallow.

“What about you?” Wolfe asked, his voice rough. “What are you going to do
? Once you get your family home, I mean.”

Kestrel shrugged again.

“Try and find a job,” she answered, resting her hands in her lap and rubbing her fingers together. “I was an intern at a museum, but they didn’t hire me, and now the shop in the KCSP is gone, so…” She forced another smile at him—but he didn’t answer it.

“I’ll find something
to do,” she whispered, looking back down at her hands.

“
Well, you might…Might meet somebody,” Wolfe ventured. “Get married. Have a few kids—”

“No,” Kestrel shook her head, squeezing her hands hard. “No, not my speed.
”

She sensed his startlement. She shook her head again.

“That just means a lot of…A lot of work and commitment and time. Taking care of somebody.” It was getting harder to breathe, harder to think. “I’ll get a career, maybe start my own business. I’ll rent an apartment in the city and live by myself—it’s pretty nice. Don’t have to clean up if you don’t want to—nobody to impress. Get to come in after work, don’t have to talk to anybody, it’s quiet…” She couldn’t summon much volume. “It’s not so bad.”

She wiped
her eyes, sucked in a bracing breath and heaved it out, then nodded firmly at the fire.

“Maybe I’ll get a dog,” she whispered. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”

They both fell silent for a long time. A soft wind disturbed the very tops of the trees, and flitted through the tips of the flames.

“Kestrel.”

She didn’t look up—she didn’t dare. But painful thrills shot all through her. She clamped her hands together.

“I haven’t to
ld you,” he began, his voice low and careful. “How grateful I am to you. You’ve been so much of a help to me, all along the way. You helped get me to Conrad, through the spaceport, onto the ship—you got me fed and kept me from going crazy when I couldn’t sleep at night,” he chuckled softly. “You kept me from having to start all over again—and you saved my life. And I should have said thank you before and I didn’t.”

“Y
es you did,” Kestrel murmured. “In the room. Before security took you.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said. “Not really.”

Kestrel didn’t say anything.

He hesitated.

“Kestrel,” he said again.

His deep voice pulled at the center of her chest. She
finally lifted her gaze to his. His eyes grew bright, earnest.

“There’s something…” he began. He stopped, gathered himself. “I mean, when I was in the hospital, getting that treatment…And then you came and you stayed with me, I…” He stopped again, glanced up, then over his shoulder, as if searching. He turned back to her, but watched the fire. “This is stupid, but something…” He halted, and hi
s hand moved toward his heart. Then it closed, and rested on his knee.

Kestrel’s attention sharpened. She held her breath.

He looked at her.

Her heart suspended.

Snap.

Both of them jumped. He turned around, glancing into the black forest.

“That’s one of my snares,” he grunted, getting up. He halfway turned to her. “Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Kestrel answered
, her heartbeat pounding. He stepped down the little hill, and vanished in the darkness. She listened, hearing him pick his way through the scrub, until the sounds of his footsteps faded away.

Her ankle throbbed
more with every pulse. She gritted her teeth against it, trying to concentrate on the movements of the dying flames. Wolfe had been gone for a while—she had no way of knowing how long. She wondered if he’d caught anything. Wondered what he’d been about to say…

A soft sound. Almost a footfall.

A shadow.

Chills
raced down her spine. She sat up…

And a man slipped out of the dark.

He wore all black, a tight hood, a vox-box over his mouth, and night-vision goggles that flashed green in the firelight.

Kestrel’s blood froze.

He looked just like one of the men who had broken into her house and kidnapped her family.

“Kestrel Evans,” he said, his voice monotone and mechanical.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“We’ve come to arrest Lieutenant Jack Wolfe,” he answered instead. “Please direct us to his location.”

Kestrel gritted her teeth. He’d said “we” and “us.” Which meant there were more of them all around her—she just couldn’t see them.

“He’s dead,” Kestrel
told him. “Died in the crash.”

“Are we
supposed to believe that you built that splint and this fire yourself?” he countered. Her eyes flashed.

“That’s a fairly sexist comment,” she growled.

“Tell us where he is.”

“I did,” Kestrel shot back. “The wreckage is back there—go look for yourself.”

“We did,” he said. “We found no bodies.”

“It isn’t my fault
you’re no good at finding things,” Kestrel lifted her chin. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

“That isn’t my place.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Whose place is it?”

He glanced off, then motioned.

Kestrel stiffened—

A sharp pain darted into her right arm. She yelped and slapped a hand to it—

Then slumped onto her side as everything went dark.

When she breathed, it felt like her ribs were made of stone. Her whole body seemed heavy. Sluggishly, she opened her eyes.

Bright, blurry white lights. She groaned. Tried to shift her sore right arm…

“Oh, oh, easy now…” warned a soft British voi
ce. She blinked several times, then turned her head and forced her vision to focus. A hand came down gently on hers—a hand she had felt before. And she looked up into a blonde haired, blue-eyed,
familiar
face.

“Dr. Anthony?” Kestrel managed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, studying her. She thought for a moment—then sat up.

“Wait, wait, you’ll lose consciousness.” He
took her shoulders and pushed her back down—but she had enough time to notice that she wore both shoes again.

“
My ankle doesn’t hurt!” she realized. He smiled.

“The wonders of modern medicine,” he said, patting her arm. She glanced around the huge room.

All metal. Tall, vast, and utilitarian. Like a warehouse. Filled with rows of gleaming, blinking machines, large and small. It smelled like cleaning chemicals. She lay on a gurney, firm but not uncomfortable, surrounded by a makeshift medical station.

“Where am I?” she wondered as Dr. Anthony took a couple steps back and sat down on a stool facing her.

“A science base on the surface of Alpha,” he answered, lacing his fingers. His white lab coat seemed to glow in this light. She frowned at him.

“Wait,” she said. “Why are
you
here? I thought you were the ship’s surgeon on the
Exception.”

“That’s the truth
,” he nodded. “I never lie—a man in my business can’t afford to clutter his brain with deceptions and half-truths he has to remember later.” He looked at her. “Although, I can’t say
you’ve
been entirely honest with
me
. Have you, Kestrel Evans?”

Kestrel’s jaw tightened. He held her gaze.

“My name is Doctor William Anthony Jakiv.”

All
the heat drained out of Kestrel’s face.

“I actually
own
the hospital on board the
Exception
,” he went on casually. “As well as several other hospitals on other ships. But this is my home base, you would say.” He looked all around. “My fortress. My workbench. My gallery.” He smiled again as he addressed her. “And you are a long way from home, are you not?”

Kestrel didn’t answer. H
er limbs still felt leaden. He cocked his head.

“You’re from the Kansas side of Kansas City, Missouri,” he told her. “You were passed up for a job at the Museum of Literature Antiquities, and so you worked at the supply shop in the KCSP until it had the misfortune to cross paths with a rather valuable time machine.”
He spoke slowly, deliberately. “Shortly after which, your family went mysteriously missing in the dead of night.”

“It’s not a mystery to me,” Kestrel gritted. He chuckled.

“No, I’d imagine it’s not,” he said. “But they’re all fine—your mother, father, Marcus and Aidus. They’re all here with me. And you can see them.”

Kestrel blinked.

“What?”

“You can see them, silly girl,” he told her, standing up. “I’ll even tell you where they are. They’re on level two, room ten, of this very station.” He pointed at the ground, then raised his eyebrows. “All you have to do
is give me Lieutenant Jack Wolfe.”

“I’m not helping
you
,” Kestrel snarled.

“Oh, don’t worry
about it,” he said lightly. “You already have.”