Chapter 17 Unsure How to Feel
Cyrus had to admit, while he was hearing all that was being said, his mind was slightly distracted. It was hard not to be with Killian’s eyes boring into him. Whether he was openly staring at him or not, he was going to keep holding the hand that was currently in his.
Eight hours had passed since everything had gone down, and they were currently aboard Brick Bond, holding a meeting in the large cafeteria.
While he, Killian, and a few other high-ranking Bureau members, along with upper-level members of Cryptid Means, took up a large round table in the center of the room, the rest were pretty filled out with everyone else who was not busy with other things, along with quite a few of the former captives.
“There is no fixing it, and those familiar with ship cores will likely understand that it is not something one just keeps a spare of, due to the massive size and weight. My expert advice would be to focus on comms and climate control. Temperature-wise, I’ll let Cryptid Means’ engineer explain what we are currently doing to keep things livable. ”
“Has Agent Barus Dely woken up yet?” Cyrus asked.
The man had been in charge of guarding the breach point.
“No. The man is comatosed, with massive brain swelling. Not sure when, or if, he will wake up.” Captain Adam Bricker sighed. “But he didn’t bother hiding his tracks, so we already know he’s responsible for the bombs on the ship. I assume he didn’t expect us to survive.”
“Or expect there to be a bomb near where he planned to be standing.” Saffire Starlight, a member of Cryptid Means, laughed.
“Well, I don’t have any better news when it comes to Red Herring, or this giant piece of crap either.
While the engine core of Big Red is less in pieces, the damage is enough that fixing it wouldn’t be advised, unless we happen to have a pixie around here who knows what they are doing.
Which I don’t believe we do. At least, there isn’t one amongst the freed captives, or in Red Herring’s crew. ”
“You are correct. There are none currently here,” Cyrus confirmed.
“That’s what I thought. So, more bad news, or rather, more of the same and similar.
The climate control on Brick Bond is failing, while Red Herring’s is just shot.
Currently, with some spare parts, we have rigged up individual space heaters, but I’d suggest that only those who are negatively affected by low temperatures grab one, as they are limited.
“Mind you, in a successful attempt to keep us all from freezing, I have connected lines from the boosters of the other two ships into Brick Bond. It will keep the temperature raised temporarily, until we find a more permanent fix. For the time being, I’d suggest all avoid going onto the other two ships, unless necessary.
“That aside, the communication systems are in the same state across all three ships, which is to say they're broken as fuck, because everyone had the stupid luck of being in range of the solar flare. So with all that being said, I agree with the big man over there that comms and climate control should be our main focus, and that we should prepare to be stuck here for a few weeks.”
Cyrus grimaced. While he was sure of the answer, he still had to ask, “Will our food supply hold for that long?”
As another Bureau Agent went about listing off their collective food supply, Killian struggled to pay attention. Sure, it was good to know they had enough to not starve, but was it really necessary to go into such detail? Yes, would have been a complete and acceptable answer.
Okay, knowing exactly what food they had was a good idea…
he was just tired. Tired and sore. He was feeling those fights, even if he had avoided injury.
Aside from the dark bruising around his neck, and the lighter ones on his wrists and ankles, that was.
But the days in captivity, the pitiable amount of food they were given, him turning into a full-time babysitter, and just the intensity and stress of it all, were finally catching up to him, and this meeting felt redundantly long.
What more was there to say besides that all three ships were fucked, the climate control was fucked, and that comms were still fucked.
Oh, and that a few bolts and wires connecting the three ships together was all that was standing between them and the un-survivable temperatures of the vacuum of space.
All the traffickers were dead, at least, with some having been killed after the explosion by Ender's people.
A fact none of them were going to acknowledge because, abundant food supply or not, they didn't need any extra mouths to feed, and they didn't want to worry about them escaping or harming anyone.
It was not worth the risk when they were in limbo.
Really, there was so much Killian should be thinking about, or focusing on, yet where was his mind? Oh, on his relationship, and all of the questions he'd had over the last few months about how odd Cyrus had been acting. Because the answer was obvious now.
Cyrus had known. He had known Killian was going to be taken, but even without knowing for sure, he just knew it was more than that.
Cyrus had been looking, searching for months, as if the world was going to end unless he found the answers he was seeking.
But it hadn't been… Yet maybe for Cyrus it would have felt like it had…
The way the Fate had reacted to Ender getting hurt, like it was his fault… And maybe it was…
“What did you do, Cyrus?” Killian rasped out loud without meaning to.
The Fate jerked in the seat beside him, his hand tightening on his. “I…”
More than the guilty expression on the man's face, what drew his attention was the smug, angry look on Soren's. The Harpy knew exactly what Cyrus had done. But this was not the place to reveal it.
Shaking his head, he stood, slipping his hand free. “Never mind, it's nothing. I'm going to go lie down.”
Cyrus stared up at him, looking so damn lost, but after a moment, the Fate cleared his throat and murmured, “You should rest, you've been through a lot in the last few days.”
Killian nodded and smiled—a smile he wasn't sure he really felt—before hurrying out. He didn’t know how to feel, so he decided to just not. No point borrowing trouble when he wasn’t sure of himself.
Pulling the oversized coat closer, he shivered slightly as he entered the hall, but instead of heading to the room he was currently sharing with Cyrus, he found himself in front of the door he knew the Gorgon was resting behind.
The tall red-headed woman who was standing guard outside nodded at him politely as he reached her, but she didn’t seem inclined to move, just staring as awkwardly at him as he likely was at her.
Clearing his throat, with a small smile, Killian asked, “Would you stop me if I tried to go in?”
She visibly shivered, her face turning grim. “I likely wouldn’t be able to, if you actually put any power behind that voice of yours.”
His voice had that effect on some, even when he put no command behind it. It was like it leaked out regardless, just hinting at what he could do if he really wanted to.
“I won’t do that. This ship has witnessed enough people being forced to obey others,” he said carefully. “I just want to check on him. I’m not here to cause harm.”
“It’s a rare day indeed when a CEB Agent doesn’t want to cause even a little bit of harm.”
Ah, yeah, that fell in line with what he knew.
Ender’s people pretty much hated and distrusted them.
“I’m more upper management, and in the tech department.
The only people I’ve terrorized lately are a few sheepish, and possibly brainless, underlings that somehow managed to fake it until they made it into my department. ”
She smirked. “They still have a job?”
Killian chuckled. “They do not. Though one did manage to take my office carpet out with him. Mainly as piss stains are just not something I want to deal with on the regular.”
The woman barked out a laugh in surprise. “Can’t blame you there.” She hesitated for a moment before sighing. “I have no orders to keep you out, so against my better judgment…” She slowly stepped out of the way of the door.
Killian smiled. “Thank you.”
Before the woman had a chance to change her mind, he pressed the button for the door and hurried inside when it slid upward. The door closed automatically behind him, and he found the room to be as bare bones as the one he shared with Cyrus.
The same rounded shape, and all chrome, inside there was only a king-sized bed curving against the left wall, with a trunk at the foot of it, and to the left a single nightstand.
The only thing different was the chair by the right side of the bed, but it likely had been added recently.
Across from the entrance was another door that he was sure led to a bathroom.
As he slowly approached, Killian’s gaze traveled over the still sleeping Cryptid, before stopping a few feet away.
He knew the Gorgon was taller than him, broader too, but it was hard to tell with him lying down, and being pretty much buried under the pile of fluffy blankets that were covering him up to his neck.
Ender was on his stomach, which made sense as the blast had hit him from behind.
He, however, was not so sure it was a good thing to have all those blankets putting pressure on his wounds.
Even with the sterile air barrier the burn pack would create, it would still hurt.
But Killian hadn’t gotten a chance to see the man’s injuries, so what did he know?
Gorgons…were a bit of a mystery. Mainly as there weren’t many left. Maybe a hundred, possibly two? There was no consensus or database—thank fuck for that. But like Sirens, he knew Gorgons had fertility issues, he just wasn’t exactly sure of the specific details.
The Gorgon Massacre…happened only a few years after the Great Cryptid-Human War started, and well, it was not like there were many left to study, and those that lived tended to keep hidden.
There were various reasons for that…trafficking, governments trying to overstep and intervene to help forcefully ‘grow’ the population.
There were plenty of reasons for them to stay out of sight.
Ender may have been the loudest, most hidden yet known, Gorgon alive.
While he didn’t know too much about their physiology, he knew they were a fast-healing Cryptid, but that their health heavily depended on their temperature.
So Killian could only assume that him being able to see the man trembling probably wasn’t a good thing, nor was the fact that Ender looked as pale as snow.
The Gorgon’s button nose wrinkled slightly, as Ender’s mouth twisted into a grimace, even in sleep.
Killian moved closer along the right side of the bed, frowning as he felt Ender’s forehead and was greeted with the experience of touching ice. Tugging off his coat, he quickly tucked it around the Gorgon.
Having done that, Killian went to feel the man’s head again, but gasped when his wrist was caught in a rough, callused grasp.
His gaze widened slightly as he found himself staring into eyes that were all snake.
Killian’s first instinct was to lash out and protect himself, but he squashed that, as he didn’t want to hurt the man.
“Ender,” he rasped smoothly, pushing calm into his voice. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
His brow rose when a legit snake tongue flicked out of Ender’s mouth, the Gorgon blinking.
Well, at least Killian clearly had the Cryptid’s attention…
Slowly, he began to sing a song his mother used to sing to him growing up. One he’d sung along with her, before he realized the true extent of the horrors that were meant for his future. There was no intent to control in his voice, only to calm.
“Look around you, little Siren. The waters you swim in are filled with fear. Ignore at your risk that our once greatest freedom is now our demise.
“Swim, little Siren, the shadows are calling. Do you hear them whispering your name? Close your ears to the lies they offer, for even now they try to drag you down.
“Swim, little Siren, swim, little Siren, for only—”
He was abruptly cut off as an accented voice softly rasped, “Trying to enchant me, Siren?”
Blinking, Killian smiled hesitantly, meeting the Gorgon’s pain-filled smiling face, dropping his hand to his side when Ender let go. “No, more trying to stop your snake from biting me.”
Ender chuckled, the sound cutting off when the Cryptid winced. “Ah, blast it all. I feel like horseshit.”
“I’d say that’s an apt description for how you look currently as well.”
The Gorgon smirked. “No doubt.” The man’s teeth actually started to chatter. “Fuck, it’s cold. Did the blast damage the climate controls?”
“One of them, at least. I’d offer to share my warmth with you, but…”
The man’s smirk widened. “Sirens are not known for their body heat, are they?”
“No…” He gave him an apologetic smile, before hesitantly saying, “Ender… Thank you.”