30. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Zoric wanted to curse the guards for their interruption but couldn't. He'd heard them coming, smelled the oil of their guns and the polish on their boots, but he'd hoped they'd take just a little longer. The metallic tang of weapon oil mixed with the artificial cherry scent of floor cleaner, creating a uniquely human combination that made his tongue flick unconsciously to process the data.

The panic attack that had risen in Angela had been the first sign he'd asked a question that could trigger her self-destruct. He'd stopped it but the speed with which it had started worried him. It had given him a better insight into how the self-destruct had been implemented and maintained. Her pulse had skyrocketed before he could even register the change in her scent.

Unfortunately, he was going to need help to remove it.

"Are you ready?" Zoric asked, turning to Angela. She licked her lips nervously and nodded. His gaze followed her tongue along her lips and a deep spike of need shot through him. Her scent changed subtly, becoming warmer, sweeter, and he had to force himself to focus on their immediate situation.

He held his hand out for her and fought the need to pull her into his chest and hold her until the world disappeared. They couldn't hide away from the consequences of the last few days, no matter how much either of them wanted to. His scales rippled with suppressed emotion, the tiny movements creating a whisper-soft sound that only he could hear.

Hand in hand, they walked out into the hall and fell in with their escort. The guards' discomfort manifested in minute changes to their posture and the way they gripped their weapons. Zoric couldn't blame them - he'd never enjoyed escort duty. Granted, his charges were usually in some kind of deep distress and going to something worse than a meeting. Angela actually looked happy to be with him, her warmth seeping into his palm where their hands joined.

The conference room assaulted his senses the moment they entered. The stark fluorescent lights bounced off the polished table surface, creating a harsh glare that made his inner eyelids want to close. The air conditioning system pumped recycled air through vents that rattled slightly, creating a constant undercurrent of mechanical noise that grated against his auditory membranes.

Dr. Phillips and Ae-cha were already there, their scents mingling unpleasantly in the enclosed space - the doctor's artificial mint competing with Ae-cha's natural musk. They stopped what looked like a very intense conversation as Angela and Zoric walked in. Colonel Schuh joined them while Zoric was attempting to get comfortable in one of the chairs, the faux leather squeaking against his scales.

The chair was an instrument of torture designed for human proportions. The arms dug into his thighs, the back forced his tail into an uncomfortable position, and the height was wrong for his longer legs. Every shift produced an embarrassing squeak that echoed in the too-quiet room.

Angela looked over at him then addressed the room. "Does anybody have a screwdriver?"

The Colonel took some kind of tool out of his pocket and handed it to her, his face tense as he watched to see what she would do with it. She pulled one of the bars up from the tool, then knelt next to Zoric's chair. The movement wafted her scent toward him - a complex mixture of standard-issue soap, dried sweat, and something uniquely her that made his heart rate increase.

When Zoric saw what Angela was doing, he suddenly understood her purpose and stood. The chair's metal frame creaked in protest as his weight shifted. Careful to not shake the chair more than necessary, he knelt next to her and used his claws in the screws holding the back to the arms of the chair. The familiar scent of metal shavings hit his nose as his claws caught in the screws' threads.

Angela had moved to the back of the chair by the time Dr. Torres joined them, bringing with him that unsettling lack of scent that made Zoric's scales bristle. It was the work of a few more minutes to remove the last of the screws holding the back of the chair on. The small sounds of metal against metal echoed in the quiet room, punctuated only by the soft whisper of cloth as the others shifted in their seats.

He caught the chair back just before it started to fall and placed it against the wall behind them. When he sat back down, his tail fell behind him naturally and the arms moved enough that they weren't digging into his legs. The relief was immediate, though the faux leather still felt uncomfortably artificial against his scales.

Angela took her seat next to him, close enough that their arms brushed. The contact sent a pleasant tingle through his scales, and he could feel her satisfaction through their bond. Everybody else at the table stared at them, their expressions ranging from amused to annoyed. The tension in the room shifted, becoming something more complex than simple discomfort.

"That was an option?" Ae-cha burst out, her scales flickering with what might have been embarrassment.

"Technically, it's destruction of property," Colonel Schuh said with a half smile, his posture relaxing slightly. The fluorescent lights caught the silver at his temples as he tilted his head.

"With respect, sir, nothing was destroyed and I can put the chair back together after this meeting is over," Angela said. The slight tremor in her voice betrayed her nervousness, though her words were steady. "The equipment was strategically adjusted to facilitate our mission, and will be returned to the intended specifications when we're finished."

Colonel Schuh laughed, the sound bouncing off the bare walls, and shook his head. "What was your rank before you were demoted, Private McBride?"

"I don't see how that's relevant," Dr. Phillips cut in, her perfume becoming sharper with her agitation. "Whatever she calls it, she took a chair apart without permission. That is absolutely in keeping with the actions that got her sent here in the first place."

"It is not," Angela responded. Her scent changed subtly, taking on the bitter edge of indignation. Zoric could feel her muscles tensing through their bond, though she maintained her composed exterior.

Through their connection, he could read the layered complexity of her reaction - frustration at being misunderstood, determination to maintain her composure, and an underlying current of fear that Dr. Phillips might be right about her character. He wanted to comfort her but knew any obvious display would only make things worse.

Instead, he let his tail brush against her ankle under the table, sending a wave of reassurance through their bond. The gesture was hidden from the others by the table, but he felt her gratitude wash over him like warm sunshine.

"I'm not sure I can agree with that, Dr. Phillips," Colonel Schuh said, his steady gaze fixing on each person at the table in turn. "There is a great deal of difference between adjusting a chair so someone can be more comfortable and treason."

The overhead lights hummed, a counterpoint to the tension building in the room. Dr. Phillips' frown deepened, the harsh fluorescents emphasizing every line in her face. Her fingers tapped against the polished surface of the table, each contact creating a sharp sound that made Zoric's scales twitch.

"Not in some of the essentials, if you'll forgive me," she said, her voice clipped. "She acted on her own, without orders or permission, to change something she had no reason to change. Whatever her underlying motivations for each action, it shows a blatant disregard for protocol, and a willingness to work outside of a structure she knows is important."

"I didn't realize she would need orders to adjust a chair," Ae-cha said, scales shifting in a pattern that Zoric recognized as barely contained amusement. "That seems a little excessive."

The recycled air stirred papers on the table as the ventilation system kicked in again. Through their bond, Zoric could feel Angela's frustration building like static electricity before a storm. Her pulse had increased slightly, though her exterior remained calm.

"She did not adjust the chair, she dismantled part of it," Dr. Phillips explained, her perfume becoming more pronounced as she leaned forward. "Something she was neither authorized, nor asked, to do."

"Wouldn't Colonel Schuh giving her the tool to adjust the chair mean the authorization was implicit?" Zoric asked. The metallic taste of confrontation filled his mouth as he spoke. He really didn't understand why Dr. Phillips insisted on painting Angela in as dark a light as possible.

"As she neither stated her intentions nor asked for permission, the only implicit authorization would be for her to have temporary possession of a tool," Dr. Phillips pursued, her voice taking on a lecturing tone that set Zoric's teeth on edge.

Colonel Schuh let out a breath and rubbed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. The gesture released a fresh wave of his natural scent - coffee, gun oil, and something uniquely human. "Which makes this my fault," he said. "Private McBride, please return my multitool and, in the future, let me know what you want to use it for."

"Colonel, that's not-"

"Yes, sir," Angela said, cutting off Dr. Phillips' protest. She slid the multitool across the polished surface, the metal scraping quietly against the wood, and stood up to salute. Her movement stirred the air, bringing a fresh wave of her scent to Zoric's sensitive receptors.

"Sit down," the Colonel said. "We've already wasted enough time on this. Dr. Phillips, it really does seem like you have a prejudice against Private McBride. As your presence here is part of the inquiry into the Private's claims and behaviors, are you going to be able to continue without letting your prejudices interfere?"

The artificial lighting cast harsh shadows across Dr. Phillips' face as she drew herself up. "I'm a professional," she said, as if that answered the question. Her scent had taken on an acidic edge that made Zoric's nose wrinkle.

The Colonel's steady gaze didn't waver. "The question still stands, doctor. Are you going to be able to give an unbiased opinion, based only on the facts at hand, without allowing your personal beliefs to get in the way?"

"Yes, Colonel, I will continue to do my job," Dr. Phillips said. The pinched look on her face and the sharp note in her scent told Zoric how difficult she'd find it to be unbiased.

The ventilation system hummed, filling the momentary silence with white noise. Zoric could feel Angela's skepticism through their bond, matched by his own doubts about Dr. Phillips' ability to remain objective.

"Alright, now that we've covered that," Colonel Schuh said, his voice cutting through the tension, "I want to know what the plan is going forward? Ae-cha and Zoric were brought in to observe Dr. Phillips' interrogation in the hopes that they could use their unique perspectives to give us some insight into what actually happened. Dr. Torres was here to help keep Private McBride alive should the interrogation have unforeseen circumstances."

The mention of Dr. Torres sent a spike of unease through Angela that Zoric felt like a physical blow. Her scent changed subtly, taking on the bitter edge of fear, though her exterior remained composed. He shifted slightly closer to her, letting his presence provide what comfort it could.

"I was promised I would be allowed to question the prisoner without interference," Dr. Phillips protested, her voice rising slightly in pitch. The fluorescent lights caught the sheen of sweat forming at her temples. "I was not informed that some of the observers would be aliens."

Ae-cha snorted, the sound carrying a distinctly reptilian undertone. "I don't know that we're technically aliens. Zoric and I were both born on this planet." Her scales rippled in a pattern that suggested both amusement and irritation.

"And the interference of their observations is what caused the plans that we had been working from to go awry," Dr. Phillips continued as though Ae-cha hadn't spoken. The sharp tap of her pen against the table punctuated her words.

Zoric's scales bristled at the memory of finding Angela in distress. "My first observation of the interrogation was that Private McBride was dying and not receiving the medical attention that she should have been," he said, struggling to keep his voice level. The taste of copper filled his mouth as he fought down his anger. "If she had not been in very real physical distress, I would not have interfered."

"I've never been allowed to monitor Private McBride's brainwaves," Dr. Torres spoke up from his corner. His complete lack of scent continued to unsettle Zoric. "Which is, honestly, neglecting her health."

"I don't want my brainwaves monitored," Angela said softly. She was sitting straight up in her chair, her back stiff, her hands folded on the table in front of her. Through their bond, Zoric felt a wave of primal fear wash over him, accompanied by the acrid scent of her anxiety.

The static in her mind grew stronger, like interference on a radio signal. Her thoughts became choppy, fragmented, and Zoric could feel her struggling to maintain control.

"We need to make sure there isn't any damage from accidentally triggering you," Colonel Schuh explained, his tone gentler than before. The leather of his chair creaked as he leaned forward. "Despite what you may think, we're not here to hurt you."

They want vengeance. You're not safe here. Your family isn't safe if you stay. You should have kept the weapon.

The foreign voice in Angela's mind was sharp, insistent. Zoric felt it cut through their bond like a blade. Her pulse had increased, though she maintained her outward composure. The scent of fear rolled off her in waves that only he and Ae-cha could detect.

Angela's voice was carefully controlled when she spoke. "With all due respect, Colonel, I know what the prosecution is pushing for my sentence. Keeping me alive and healthy for an execution seems like a waste of time and resources." The bitter edge of resignation in her scent made Zoric's heart ache.

Ae-cha leaned forward, her scales catching the light as she moved. "I agree," she said. "If that's what they were doing. Fortunately, some of the Orvax intervened on your behalf, which is why I'm here. And why I think we need to change how we're handling this."

Her last words were directed at Colonel Schuh, who nodded and waved her to continue speaking. The air in the room had grown thick with tension, making even the humans shift uncomfortably in their seats.

The discussion that followed about Angela's fate made Zoric increasingly protective. Each mention of removing their bond sent waves of distress through both of them, their shared emotions amplifying until the very air seemed to vibrate with it. Only years of military discipline kept him from gathering her up and fleeing the facility entirely.

By the time they reached the end of the meeting, Zoric's scales were aching from the tension of maintaining his composure. The only comfort was Angela's presence beside him, her warmth both physical and mental a constant reminder of what they were fighting to protect. Whatever came next, he knew with bone-deep certainty that he would not let anyone separate them - not Ae-cha, not Dr. Phillips, not even Angela's own demons.

The voice of reason in her head might be working against them, but Zoric was determined to prove it wrong. They would find a way through this together, no matter what it took.

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