Sorry for the delay . . . no excuse, really, just RL entombing me in cement . . .
Comments, flame and demands at h_raelynn@hotmail.com
Ice Breaker Part 5
by Gok, for Eleanor (call off the dragon! Back, ya great flaming beast! Back!) :)
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*Emphasis*
[Indicates thoughts and telepathy]
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Bravery is in the eye of the beholder.
Beauty is, too, but it wasn't beauty that the worried young black-haired telepath was concerned about at that moment, staring into the darkness that was Proxima's night.
Truth, beauty, honor, all kinds of things are measured just a little bit differently by each observer. The differences can cover a wide range, if you considered a large group of people. Wars had even been fought over the perceived differences.
The Telepath War had been one. It'd had a great many viewpoints, not a single one matching any of the others.
She watched the dim excuse for stars above, the brightness from the city below far overwhelming the heavens. Lights, signs, vehicles, people, movement, life.
[Life.]
[How friggin' ironic.]
Missing the simplicity of living in Sanctuary, frustrated and confused, Rashelle slumped down onto the railing, trying to understand how so much could go very right - then suddenly become so very wrong - in barely more than two months. That's how long since she - the entire envoy team - had arrived at Proxima, trading and teaching and learning.
Two months. Too soon to royally screw her life up, right? Nope. Not when it came to - that - that *man*!
And she just couldn't understand her reasons for first wanting - needing! - to come, not anymore. Why she had left home, why she had left the music behind . . . nothing made sense. She just wanted to run, to excape somehow - but she couldn't, she was kept here by . . . [by what? Duty? Is that reason enough for me to stay?]
She was too scared for it to make sense anymore, and she felt very, very alone. Which was also ironic, because the problem came from her NOT being alone, for seeking comfort against the unfamiliar with a normal human man, for wanting to forget her past, everyone's past. The problem came from some very deliberate rule-breaking. And she'd had to extremely work hard to get into trouble, he'd been fully aware of the trouble he'd get into for just kissing her - but she'd still managed to seduce him a few times, and was eagerly wishing for more chances - or she had been. Then she'd realised the obvious about her body.
Whoops. Didn't plan on this, now did she?
The very thought of her situation terrified her. No matter who the beholder might have been, it didn't matter, because they would all, every one, agree that she was eyeball deep in the proverbial brown stuff. And her own fool don't-wait-for-the-right-time selfishness was the only - the main, anyway - reason!
And it scared her.
[What if I really have gotten pregnant?]
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Later . . .
[Mmmmmmmmmm.]
Real Coffee. Bitter, but addictively delicious, and as strong as the rays of the rising sun. Entirely suited to the company.
Or, roughly translated, Lyta would have enjoyed Zack’s grumpy mood just a little bit more if she had been just a little less tired.
At least this time he wasn’t trying to lecture her. Not yet, anyway. All in all, she’d had a great time last night. It had even been as long as she’d hoped – Security was getting a little too good at finding her before she wanted them to, but not this time. The hair dye had been quite handy in her latest escapade. Especially since she didn’t actually use it – she’d used a telepathic projection to walk right out the door, several minutes before her oft-frustrated guards started a search for someone who did not look the way she did.
A hitchhicked, bumpy truck ride afterwards (the driver, a local elderly gentleman, was quite happy to be paid with a surprise kiss on his whiskery cheek), and she’d spent the next several hours laying on a grassy hillside, miles away from city lights, watching the stars. Peaceful and quiet, it gave her a change to relax and drop the shields and illusions she was forced to carry with her. It gave her a chance to think.
None of the stars visible were the sun that warmed her home, but Lyta didn’t mind. It was a place devoid of machine noise, and quite relaxing. The past few times she’d played midnight hooky, it had been to attend outdoor festivals, the occasional dance club, places full of people. She’d wanted a change of pace this time.
When the sky had finally paled at dawn, she started to walk back to the city, leaving her false-image off. The sun wasn’t clear of the horizon when she was picked up, the visibly distressed ranger almost leaping into the air when she'd snuck up from behind and tapped his shoulder. The next hour was a no-holds-barred lecture on how they couldn’t maintain ‘security integrity’ if she kept sneaking off without warning every few nights.
Keeping the mischeivious grin off her face until they arrived back at the hotel, she didn't answer until she was inside. “I can protect myself – thank you for the ride, by the way, it was a very kind gesture – Besides, I don’t take off that often. You’re doing a excellent job with the rest of the envoys.”
The poor ranger was ready to rip off his headbone and throw it at her.
Back in her rooms, Zack was wearing his arms-crossed-stiff-stance-face-unreadable officer expression. Which meant he was pissed off at her. He hadn’t said a word when she came in, and she just kissed his cheek good-morning, and cheerfully asked if his night had been as pleasant as hers was.
He just kept up ‘the look’, and Lyta had relaxed with her coffee on the balcony, reading over inventory lists and progress reports. Her first meeting – Rashelle had said it was important, and yet didn’t want to hurry – wasn’t until nearly 9, so she was just running numbers in her head and enjoying Zack’s presence a few feet away.
Even if he was mad at her, the protectiveness he showed was very endearing. If unsettling.
“We have almost enough gathered in the warehouses for the first convoy, good. And when the retrofit on those two freighters is complete, we can get a good portion of new livestock sent. I’d been hoping to have all the pre-gathered ones delivered by the sixth month at the latest.”
No answer.
“But you already knew that,” Lyta added.
Still no answer.
The uncomfortable silence stretched for several long moments, and Lyta wished for something – anything – to happen, to make a conversation start. She had begun to feel very odd in the last minute, with a nasty prickly feeling all over. Something was really wrong . . . Zack wasn’t THAT mad at her, was he? She would not let herself scan him, no matter how badly she wanted to. But what was setting off her mental alarms?
Her eyes suddenly snapped to just below the horizon – something moving, her sense of danger now screaming in alarm – a ship about to crash among the city’s buildings? Trying to see what it was, she started to stand up, when an abrupt wave of horrified realization from Zack slammed into her.
At that same instant, physical matched the emotional, as she recognized the object: a missile had reached them.
*BOOM*