Chapter 16
Rickon
Three days later, I found myself marching in formation behind Cullen, my boots striking the ground in rhythm with the others.
Every step felt wrong, like walking against the grain of my very soul.
Ellie was arriving momentarily on a shuttle with Xabat and Adtovar, and being apart from her when danger loomed so close made my skin crawl with unease, a constant itch I couldn't scratch.
Adtovar had brought down a full complement of security.
Fifteen males in all, including Cristox, Xabat, Ixaka, Bieste, and Kariosak.
These were warriors I had fought beside, males whose loyalty and skill I knew without question, who I would trust with my life in any battle.
The rest had been handpicked by Xabat himself, each one renowned for their prowess in combat.
The sun beat down on the tarmac as we disembarked, waves of heat shimmering off the black surface, and I forced myself to maintain the rigid posture of a human military male.
Cullen led us toward the main building, his stride confident and purposeful, where the human general we’d met before waited.
He was older, with silver threading through his dark hair, and he possessed the bearing of someone accustomed to command, his spine ramrod straight.
"Admiral Blackwood," the male said, his surprise evident in the slight widening of his eyes and the way his voice lifted at the end. "I wasn't informed you'd be joining us today."
"General Abernathy," Cullen extended his arm, and the two males clasped hands in the human gesture of greeting.
"I apologize for the short notice. After the recent attempt on the President's life, I couldn't stay away.
I was close friends with her husband. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her, especially during a meeting as potentially dangerous as this one. "
Abernathy's expression shifted into one of disgust, his lips pressing into a thin line, whether for us aliens or the President, I couldn't tell.
"I understand. We've taken every precaution, but I appreciate the extra eyes.
" His gaze swept over our group, assessing each of us with a practiced eye. "Are these your men?"
"The best I could assemble on short notice," Cullen confirmed.
I studied Abernathy and the half-dozen soldiers flanking him, reaching out with my senses to detect any hint of a cuddwisg.
Xytol had taught us all how to detect the subtle distortion it created, like a ripple in still water or the way heat warps the air and the ultrasonic high frequency buzz not discernable by human ears.
Nothing. Either these males were exactly what they appeared to be, or the traitors had perfected their disguise beyond my ability to detect.
A thought that did nothing to ease the tension coiling in my gut like a serpent preparing to strike.
A moment later, Abernathy's comm device chirped, the sound sharp in the desert silence. He answered it, nodding brusquely, then straightened to his full height. "The President has arrived. This way."
We followed him toward one of the larger buildings, a nondescript structure that could have been a warehouse or aircraft hangar, the corrugated metal siding dull and unremarkable.
The interior was surprisingly well-appointed, with polished floors that gleamed under fluorescent lights and walls lined with security monitors showing dozens of angles of the facility.
Guards stood at attention as we passed, their faces blank and professional.
Then I saw her, or rather, the male pretending to be her.
Hewes wore Ellie's face perfectly, down to the slight upturn of her nose and the exact shade of her bright green eyes, like emeralds catching sunlight.
But that's where the resemblance ended for me.
He stood too rigidly, his shoulders squared in a way Ellie never held herself, lacking the fluid grace that came so naturally to her.
There was no warmth in his expression, no softness around the eyes that came from genuinely caring for the people around her, no hint of the compassion that made Ellie who she was.
"Madam President," Cullen said, moving forward with genuine warmth in his voice, his hand extended. He clasped her hands in his, the gesture intimate and familiar. "It's good to see you safe."
Hewes blinked, clearly caught off guard by Cullen's presence, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his borrowed features. "Admiral Blackwood. I wasn't expecting you."
"I apologize for the surprise," Cullen said, his voice dropping to something more intimate, almost tender. "After what happened, I couldn't stay away. Dalton was one of my closest friends. I owe it to his memory to make sure you're protected, especially during an endeavor as risky as this."
For a moment, Hewes seemed at a loss for words, his mouth opening slightly before closing again.
Then he recovered, his expression softening into something that might have passed for gratitude if you didn't know Ellie, if you hadn't seen the real warmth that lit her face.
"That means more than you know, Cullen. Thank you. "
I watched the exchange, knowing Cullen's pretense, but marveling at how the other humans seemed to accept this impostor without question.
Couldn't they see the difference? Couldn't they feel the absence of her spirit?
Ellie moved through the world with an innate compassion that colored every interaction, that touched everyone around her like sunlight warming stone.
This male was simply going through the motions, hitting the marks without understanding what lay beneath, like an actor reciting lines without comprehension.
But then, they didn't know her the way I did.
They hadn't felt her warmth, hadn't been touched by the depth of her caring, hadn't experienced the way she saw into the heart of things.
To them, this was simply their President, perhaps a bit more reserved than usual, given the recent attempt on her life.
The thought made my chest ache with longing for the real Ellie, a physical pain that settled behind my ribs.
A voice crackled through Abernathy's comm system, tinny and distorted by the speakers. "Madam President, the Prime's shuttle has arrived. They're requesting permission to land."
"Grant it," Hewes said smoothly in Ellie's voice, his tone perfectly presidential. "And have them escorted to this location."
Abernathy nodded at the faux President and turned on his heel to fulfill her request, his boots clicking sharply against the polished floor.
My heart began to pound in anticipation, each beat thundering in my ears. Ellie was here, so close I could almost feel her presence, like a magnetic pull drawing me toward her.
I forced myself to remain still, to keep my expression neutral, my hands relaxed at my sides. This was the most dangerous part of the plan. One wrong move, one slip in the disguise, and everything would unravel.
The minutes stretched like hours, each second an eternity, until finally the door opened, and Abernathy stepped through. "The Alliance Prime," he announced formally, his voice carrying the weight of ceremony.
And then she walked in.
The disguise was flawless. To anyone else, she appeared exactly as the Prime.
Tall, imposing, with the distinctive features and bearing of a Vaktaire, the proud set of her shoulders, and the way she surveyed the room with cool assessment.
But I recognized Ellie under the disguise.
I knew the way she moved, the subtle tilt of her head when she was assessing a situation, the grace in her steps that no amount of alien technology could completely mask.
There, in the slight hesitation before she crossed the threshold, a tell that only someone who knew her intimately would catch.
In the way her gaze swept the room and lingered on me for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, I felt that connection between us like a physical touch.
My Ellie.
Adtovar and Xabat flanked her, their expressions appropriately stoic for royal guards, postures radiating controlled violence. Behind them came Xytol, dressed in the formal attire of an attaché, his long fingers wrapped around a datapad.
"Madam President," Ellie said, her voice modulated to match the Prime's deeper tones, the resonance uncanny. "Thank you for receiving me on such short notice."
The President—Declan—stepped forward with a politician's smile, practiced and empty. "Lady Prime, the honor is ours. I'm grateful you were willing to make the journey, especially given the delicate nature of our current situation."
"Indeed." Ellie inclined her head with perfect diplomatic courtesy. "I trust you are recovering well from the recent attempt on your life?"
"As well as can be expected," Declan replied, his hand moving to touch his chest in what might have been a gesture of vulnerability.
I caught the briefest flicker of amusement in Ellie's eyes, a spark of mischief before she schooled her expression back to neutrality.
"Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere more private?" Declan suggested, gesturing toward the interior of the facility with an elegant sweep of his hand. "I have much to share with you regarding our intelligence on Hewes's whereabouts."
"An excellent suggestion," Ellie agreed, but I could tell from the slight hardening of her eyes, that she suspected some nefarious purpose.
Cullen stepped forward, his voice crisp with authority. "Abernathy, you and your men are dismissed. I'll handle security from here."
Abernathy looked like he wanted to object, his jaw tightened, and his shoulders squared. He was, after all, responsible for Area 51, but Cullen outranked him. "Yes, sir," he said reluctantly, the words clearly bitter in his mouth, then led his team out, their footsteps echoing down the corridor.