Chapter 24
“Do I need to ask about the second person you banged?”
Wraith echoed the question that had gotten them through the Fold the first time. From the back seat in the Banshee, Kael growled.
“Very funny.”
They had just launched from the Eventide, and he couldn’t claim to be looking forward to going back Inbetween. He was wired and queasy, caught between excitement and dread.
How was Wraith so calm?
“You’re not worried after what happened last time?”
“Oh Void, I am going to have to ask you, aren’t I?” She gave a low, amused chuckle, “No, Helios, I’m not worried. That wasn’t my first Fold collapse. It won’t be my last. And let’s face it, when the last one happens? I won’t be around to worry about it anymore.”
The first wisp of true nausea echoed through him.
“That’s less comforting that you might think.”
His tone was dry, but the words were pure truth.
She sighed loudly.
“So, tell me about the second person you banged.”
He couldn’t see her eye roll, but he could hear it.
And that calmed him more than her words.
“That was more than I ever wanted to know about the fourth-floor conference room at Phobos,” Wraith kept her tone plaintive, but damn that was amusing.
She’d had briefings there; the mental image of the Major under that table would forever add color to those memories.
“You going to share yours?”
Her second lover had been Zane. Her third—and final—had been Phantom. Somehow, she didn’t think he’d want to hear details of either.
“Nope. We’re in, and you seem to be holding it together.”
The Inbetween was calm, like the surface of a lake. If it hadn’t been for the feel of the place and the sudden lack of stars, she’d have thought they were still in real space.
“It’s so different from last time,” Helios said in a quiet voice. “Before the collapse, I mean.”
Her smile was soft as she let the Void pull her. “It used to be like this a lot more. In the beginning.”
“What changed?”
Screaming. Tearing. Crashes of silent sound and backlash from hell.
“Same thing that always happens when you try to control the uncontrollable. We broke it.”
Kael collapsed on his bed. Exhausted, but still too wired to sleep.
The week had been brutal. Twice-daily Tunnels Inbetween. Each for a longer period of time. Followed by neural scans. And he still had to get through his normal work.
Considering he was sitting for most of that time, it shouldn’t have been as tiring as it was. But despite clear scan results, each trip left him more drained. More weary. More anxious.
It was a nameless dread layered on top of the very real worry that he was running out of time. Less than a week left to meet Brandt’s deadline.
The Fold was magnificent. And terrifying. And completely unpredictable.
And Wraith treated it like an old friend.
Tension he hadn’t realized she was carrying bled out of her every time they punched through.
She’d shown him the dark calm centers of absolute, almost haunting silence. The stable rifts where you could see real space, but that would rip you to shreds if you were foolish enough to enter them. The auroras that danced and merged and danced some more.
The Fold had started to collapse twice. She got them the hell out both times. Not into a planet’s atmo.
The first time he’d thought they’d have to wait to be picked up, but Wraith had told to watch and learn. And then she’d flown for a while and Tunneled back in.
And the Fold was calm again. Except both times, he’d felt something at the edge of his consciousness—a prickle that said the collapse hadn’t stopped. Just moved.
Patch’s excitement about the data they collected had given him a migraine.
Then he’d tried to find out how they’d broken things, but either the files were above his clearance, or they didn’t exist.
And Wraith wouldn’t tell him.
He rolled over, stared at the ceiling. He needed sleep in the worst way. Couldn’t take a drop-tab, because there’d been too many deleterious effects when traveling Inbetween afterwards.
But he needed something. Connection. Clarity. Anything to break the crush of inevitable collapse.
He cursed and stood.
It was a terrible fucking idea.
But he was desperate enough to try it anyway.
Wraith opened her eyes as the door chimed.
She sat up, orientated herself, glanced at the time. She’d been asleep less than thirty minutes.
And no one ever came to visit her.
There were no klaxons blaring, no running feet or the shudder of hyperspace jump warm-up procedure.
So, no emergency.
She stretched and stood.
At least it would only take a few seconds to kill her unwelcome guest. Then she could get back to sleep.
Wraith’s face was annoyed when the door slid open.
“Oh, it’s you.”
There were worse greetings. Not that he could think of any right now.
He gave a half smile, already regretting the impulse he’d known was stupid. “You sound disappointed.”
“I was going to murder whoever woke me up. But seeing as it’s you, I’ll have to settle for breaking a few ribs instead.”
She frowned, “Which is not nearly as satisfying.”
“Sorry, I’ll go,” he turned back to the corridor.
“What do you want, Major?”
Helios turned his face to her. There were dark circles under his eyes. And they’d been deepening all week.
Shit.
“I… just wanted to talk. Sorry I woke you.”
Her fingers drummed on the door.
Tap. Tap-pause. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
She glanced at them, the sudden dissonance between body and mind stopping her short. Morse code was ancient. Used on earth centuries before they’d conquered the stars.
She’d used it as a mental exercise during her imprisonment. And she’d just unwittingly typed out the short code for wait.
Fuck.
He was almost back to his door.
“Major.”
He turned. She jerked her head, “Come on.”
Wraith’s room was sparse. Technically, that was true of all military quarters, but most people left something of themselves.
Here, there was nothing. Even the bed was still made, pristine. Only the pillow on the floor hinted that she’d slept at all.
“I thought you said you were asleep.”
“I was.”
He sat on the bench by the desk, which was empty except for her data pad. She chose to sit on the floor by the pillow, which she threw back up onto the bed.
“So, you made your bed before answering the door?” he gestured to the tucked and unwrinkled blanket.
She shrugged like it didn’t matter, “I sleep on the floor. Force of habit.”
He stared at her. His fatigue-fogged brain struggling to make sense of her words.
“Stop looking so horrified, Helios. Here is a lot cleaner and warmer than my last set of long-term accommodations. I’m fine.”
But he wasn’t.
His body shifted before his brain registered the movement, and he sat down next to her. Looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
She met his gaze, gray eyes unreadable, then she shrugged and looked away from him. Eyes fixed on nothing.
“So, what did you want to talk about?