35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Shade
Day Ten
Jason taps a sequence into his datapad and projects a live map onto the main screen.
"It’s confirmed now," he says, and his voice is steady despite the magnitude of what is displayed on the screen behind him. "Our drones have footage of movement from both the south and the west. I’ve got an estimate running for troop count, but it’s… big."
I like that Jason doesn't guess facts, but I think we both know it doesn't matter what number comes out of that model. It'll be too many.
I choke down the dregs of my cold coffee, grimacing at the gritty, bitter instant granules left at the bottom. "They’re throwing everything at us."
Jason inhales and nods, then continues, voice flattening further. "Our last contact with the Capital was seven days ago. At this point, we can assume it’s no longer standing."
"And if the Capital is gone," I add quietly, "then we’re it. We’re what’s left."
My gaze drifts over the converging lines on the map, and my dread grows as the finality of it settles in my gut.
They’re coming to finish the job.
"How close?" I ask.
"If they keep this pace, they hit the outer approach to the Pass in six days," he says, tapping a few metrics into the datapad, and the screen adjusts slightly. "Maybe five if they push the pace, but not likely. They know they've got us cornered, so they're not rushing."
"Six days," I repeat under my breath, and the number tastes sour and heavy. I've been living off a countdown for the last ten days, and here is another one.
"Right." I clap my hands together, physically forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. "At least we've got a timeline now."
Defense planning has consumed my whole reality, and Viper hasn't managed to coerce or kidnap me back to the nest in days. The visceral ache to snuggle with my Omega and see my Pack is right behind my breastbone, but I use it as a constant reminder of what's at stake.
Jason stays with the comms team, tracking the enemy’s movement across every feed we still have, while I turn my attention to the problem waiting behind it.
How do we use Halley’s Omega Command when the attack reaches us?
Knox has confessed that he hasn't come up with an answer, and Halley hasn't either, which means I need to find one.
We have proof Omega Command can hold a single officer long enough to force a retreat, a phenomenon that Alpha Command has never been able to achieve, and if that officer spent days feeding Halley's retreat orders back into their chain of command, it would explain the delay before this push.
The problem is that they now know that we have a new weapon.
They’ve had time to identify that a Command was used, spot the weakness we exploited, tighten their ranks, and start treating their leaders like they're potentially compromised. They'll have implemented two-factor authentication for all orders.
Or at least that is what I would do.
Every time I run through our options, I keep hitting walls.
Amplify the Command with speakers, radios, anything that carries her voice?
It won't work, or Alpha Commands would have stopped this war decades ago. Commands only function when it's face-to-face.
Rely on using it repeatedly and hope that it sticks?
We haven't been able to test the strength of her Command since her resurrection, and we don't know what effect repeated use will have on Halley's health. Even if she can turn away a dozen soldiers at a time, it will amount to nothing against the thousands marching toward us.
After days spent trying to work out a plan, I still don't have a hypothesis I can defend. Just a clock ticking down.
My hands start to shake, and I tighten them around my datapad.
I could blame the lack of sleep or the caffeine burning through my empty stomach, but I know the truth. I’m fucking scared. It’s been a long time since a battle frightened me, not since I joined Scorch Squad, and now I have more to lose than ever before.
I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly as I force the fear back into factual order.
Six days until the enemy reaches us.
Four days until Halley’s pregnancy test.
Despite my conversation with Halley and my promise not to suppress my emotions, I've been shoving my feelings about the pregnancy into a tiny box in the corner of my mind.
I’ve been treating her possible pregnancy as an unresolved variable.
There’s no confirmed result or reliable data; therefore, there is no point using my limited time and capacity to build a plan around something that is a mere possibility.
This fortress needs me focused on facts, which means I have kept that thought sealed off every time it tries to intrude.
Except now the thoughts are leaking out, and I can't shove them back into the box.
The test is in four days, and the battle is in six.
Cause-and-effect scenarios flood through my mind faster than I can organize them.
If the result is negative, Halley walks into the battle with her Omega Command as our only advantage, and we all probably die.
If the result is positive, Halley walks into the battle with her Omega Command as our only advantage while carrying our child, and we all still probably die.
My hands shake harder around the datapad.
This is why I've been avoiding thinking it, because the moment I do, it all starts to unravel inside of me.
I can’t remove her from the equation and have her stay inside the fortress while the battle rages outside.
Halley won’t let me, and tactically, she’s right.
Without her Command, there is no scenario in which we keep the enemy at bay, and when the Pass falls, the thousands sheltering in Blackreach die.
If she goes out onto the battlefield, she might be killed by the enemy. She might die in a thousand different ways, and I know I won't be able to handle seeing her die again, but that's fine because I'll be dead too.
And, fuck, then there is the unknown variable of her Omega Command. It's always been an unstable, brutal power that sucks the life out of Halley as payment, so what will it do to our unborn child?
There’s no research I can pull up, and the only notes on the topic are my own. There is no precedent with the Omega Command and no safe assumption.
I try to force the escalating thoughts back into order, but they refuse to stay contained. Scenarios stack, variables shift, and possible outcomes race ahead until one catches and holds.
I picture a baby in the nest, warm and loud and alive.
Viper fussing over Halley while she breastfeeds, making sure she's comfortable, his brows creased because he's concerned his hands are too big for something so small.
Knox being soft and gentle because he's a protector, and that's his pup.
Blaze getting possessive over a tiny bundle, obsessed with them the same way he is with his Omega.
Halley taking it all in her stride with that steady courage she's always had.
And me.
The image lands with surprising certainty. Like I told Halley days ago, if she is pregnant, I know I’ll take to fatherhood easily. I'd be a rutting-amazing dad.
I have never really pictured myself having children. Unlike the Alphas who, as soldiers, were never destined for a mate, as a Beta, I had a chance of mating with another Beta. Except I never did. I didn't date or pursue serious relationships.
Truthfully, it felt cruel. I was ripped from my family because I tested above some arbitrary intelligence metric, and there was no guarantee my child wouldn't be taken from me too. It also felt cruel to plan for the future when the threat of genocide hung over Fathim.
Now, even if we survived long enough for them to be born, bringing our Pack's baby into this world feels like we've betrayed them before they've even arrived. We'd be plunging an innocent into the depths of war.
I swallow hard, my throat tight.
The ethical considerations aren't even the most problematic element.
The truth is, my Packmates, for all their devotion and discipline, are profoundly unsuitable as parents.
We've grown so much to be worthy of Halley, but she's a grown woman making her own choice to be with us despite our dysfunction. A baby doesn't get that choice. There are parts of us that don't belong anywhere near a child. You can't completely domesticate soldiers who were raised to kill.
The datapad pings in my hands and breaks me from my thoughts.
It's an updated projection of the enemy's position, and I watch it as it creeps closer to the Pass.
Six days until the battle that ends it all.
Live or die, in six days everything will be different.