Chapter 10
Nia drifted in a safe space, warm and cozy.
Waking increments at a time, she realized she hadn’t had one of the bizarre dreams, memories, that usually woke her. No images of birds eating eyeballs. No double-edged knives waved in her face. No voice saying, “Here’s a pretty.”
She sighed, contentment seeping into her limbs, then snuggled deeper into the plush bedding. Her face pressed against something smooth but hard, her knee cocked upward, and her one hand was wedged between two warm thighs.
She froze. Thighs. Oh god.
Her eyes flew open. Mace. Her whole body was squeezed against him.
She pushed away. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, shooting to her feet to hunch against the bulkhead. Her whole side was warm from his body heat. She rubbed her hands against it, trying to erase the sensation. A flush traveled up her throat.
“I wasn’t,” Mace replied, his hands stacked behind his head, fully clothed. He hadn’t moved.
Her cheeks burned. She’d been using him like a pillow.
“Sorry,” she muttered, then shook her head. Why was she apologizing?
Amusement flashed across his face.
Nia narrowed her eyes. His uniform clung to his body, outlining his pectorals and abdominals. She knew each of those defined muscles from when she’d healed his wound.
Tearing her gaze away, she stared above him, at the crisscrossed overhead beams, and fisted her hands. “I need to use the washroom,” she said between clenched teeth.
“Go ahead,” he replied, remaining where he was.
A huff of disbelief burst between her lips. He wasn’t going to move? Fine. She shuffled to the side, keeping her spine against the bulkhead, then nudged his socked feet with her toes. They jiggled, but he didn’t move out of the way.
So she kicked him.
Averting his face, he rolled to his feet, and she could have sworn he swallowed a chuckle. A chuckle! Cheeks burning, she hopped off the bed and scurried to the washroom. The door slid closed behind her, lights illuminating the small space a second later.
She turned to the digital mirror, but it was off.
“Viewer on,” she murmured. Nothing happened. “Mirror on.” It remained inert. Then she noticed the button on the bulkhead and pressed it. Her image flickered to life.
Why is nothing voice activated here?
Shoulders tense, Nia stared at herself, her heightened color blazing at her. She really wished she didn’t light up like a fixture every time she felt embarrassed. It plagued her existence. She was a doctor, not a ten-year-old.
Still agitated, she used the toilet, then the steam shower. The clothes Dee had made for her had been waiting in neat piles on the bed when she’d arrived yesterday, but she hadn’t thought to grab a new set in her haste. There’d been some other changes in Mace’s quarters too. The room had been cleaned, none of what she’d destroyed remaining. The refrigeration unit had been coded to her biometrics, as well as one of the clothing compartments under the bed.
The only evidence of yesterday’s tantrum was the sapling missing from the table.
After redressing in the purple top and black leggings, she returned to the main room. Mace sat at the table eating rations. He wasn’t facing her directly, but she could still feel his amusement.
Blood rushed to her face. He thought she was something to laugh at? Was she here to entertain him? He’d abducted her, and he was amused?
Striding to the table, every nerve ready to do battle, she faced off with him. “What do you want from me?”
He looked up from his meal, pale blue eyes sparking.
She waved her hands at the room. “What’s my job? A media performer? Is it funny I’m here? A joke? Have you laughed with all your warrior fucking buddies about killing my colleagues?” The last sentence almost came out a sob. Her hands fell to her sides. “What do you want from me?”
Mace’s face changed from startled to a steely mask by the end of her tirade. He swallowed his mouthful, stood, and walked to the door.
“Your shift starts in ten minutes,” he said, looking above her head. “Six hours this time.”
Nia exhaled, shoulders slumping, and went to stand beside him. What else was she supposed to do? Sit in his quarters and stare at the bulkhead all day until the end of time? She’d go mad. The suicide option would become more appealing with each passing hour.
Until the end of time.Her fingers twitched, wanting to touch the locket under her shirt. Someone would rescue her. Her family would come for her.
Mace touched his vambrace and her wrists clicked together. She glared at him and caught his gaze—regret?—before he looked away.
Nia set her shoulders and held her head high throughout the journey to the medical bay. They rounded the last corner behind the two medics who’d been hostile to her the day before, Faas and Mayra. Both seemed unaware she and Mace were only a couple meters behind them.
“I’m a surgeon and soooo much better than you. Thank you,” Mayra said, affecting an exaggerated CORE Common accent.
“Pleeeaase. Keep your dirty Tell hands off me,” Faas said, pitching his voice high.
Nia’s face flamed as she glanced at Mace, wondering what he felt about the barbs directed at her. A frown pinched his brow.
Faas laughed. “From the way he looks at her, I bet the commander has her bent over a table day and night. Did you hear he—”
Mace clapped a hand on each of their shoulders. Nia’s heart lurched in her chest. Both medics sputtered.
“Commander. I meant no disrespect. I mean—I didn’t think—”
Mace cut off Faas’s blubbering. “If I hear either of you speaking disrespectfully again, I will see you removed from your posts at this station. Is that understood?” He spoke each word with deadly quiet.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” They both scurried into the medical bay ahead of them.
Mace disengaged her bonds but touched her hand before she could reach for her medical jacket. Her pulse jumped beneath the light pressure.
“If you have any trouble, you contact me.” His eyes flicked to her bonds.
Nia nodded, aware of how warm her skin felt beneath his fingers, how wrong his touch should feel. But instead, it was…pleasant.
Mace ran a shaky hand through his hair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d touched Nia when he knew how much she hated it.
And last night, when he’d returned to his quarters after training the tyros longer and harder than he should have, he’d seen she was asleep and had lay beside her on the bed instead of leaving and staying in the barracks. Curled against the bulkhead, she’d seemed so small and vulnerable. He’d kept to the edge of the bed, a barrier against the rest of the system.
But, one centimeter at a time, she’d moved closer, until her body pressed into his—and she’d sighed in contentment.
It was her sigh that cracked something inside him.
He hadn’t done the noble thing and broken the contact—or woke her to let her know what she was doing. No, he’d stayed still and allowed her melt into him, taking the warmth her soft body offered.
Then she’d bared her soul while shouting questions, and he hadn’t a response, couldn’t speak for the tightness in his chest.
He needed to get her face out of his head, the feel of her skin off his flesh.
Limbs jerky with agitation, Mace strode into training. In the sparring arena, Grey had the tyros in two lines facing him. Mace jogged down the steps and stood beside Grey. His friend’s usually relaxed features were pulled into a frown.
“Something wrong?” Mace asked, cocking his head.
“We have a traitor in our midst.”
“Ah,” Mace said standing legs braced apart, hands clasped behind his back. “What do you propose we do?”
Grey would need to take the lead on this one. Mace hadn’t been present of mind the last couple of days and didn’t know what had happened to make his friend choose this particular exercise.
“The usual.” Grey continued to survey the tyros. A few of them looked worried, but most appeared confused. It was the cocky ones who had it coming, the ones who thought they knew what would happen next.
“Interrogation techniques,” Grey said, letting his voice ring through the space. “Who thinks they know anything about interrogation techniques?” No one spoke. “Those who think they know one interrogation technique, step forward.”
The whole group stepped forward, a few hesitantly, but there wasn’t one who didn’t take a step.
Grey pointed to the first person in line. “Name one.”
“Torture, sir,” she answered.
Grey cocked his head to the side. “Pretty broad topic. Can you be more specific?”
The girl looked to her left, then her eyes snapped forward once again. “Medical torture, sir.”
Mace raised his eyebrows. Grey gave him a look, then his focus returned to the tyros. He pointed to the next person in line. “Another technique.”
“Deprivation, sir.”
“Be specific.”
“Food, water, time, rights. Take it all away, sir,” the boy replied.
Grey was silent a moment. “Another,” he ordered the next girl in line.
“Weaknesses, sir,” she said quietly, and Mace shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Be specific,” Grey ordered.
She cleared her throat. “Exploit what’s most important to them.”
Silence followed her words. She looked at both Mace and Grey before focusing on whatever spot she’d been previously staring.
“These are all interrogation methods, but do they work? Will they find out the truth when you’re running out of time?”
Grey paced in front of them, his brow furrowed. “Today we’ll find out. All of you will be locked into a room together to figure out who the traitor is. You will have numerous methods at your disposal. Together, you will discover the truth and won’t be released until you do. Is that understood?”
There were no cocky faces left, only the confused and the terrified.
“Sir! May I ask a question?” asked one of the boys near the end of the front row.
“Of course,” Grey answered.
“What was the act of treason, sir?”
“Ah,” Grey replied. “An important question.” He stopped walking and stood front and center. “Upon your arrival as a unit, you were instructed that no one was to leave the barracks during the first six weeks of training. This was disobeyed. One person left yesterday and was absent for fifty minutes and six seconds. I can only assume this person is working for the enemy. Therefore, they are a traitor to their unit.”
“Um, sir.” A boy in the rear row lifted his hand. “There could be a lot of reasons a person left the barracks. They might not be a traitor.”
“Front and center!” Grey yelled at the boy, who jumped and scurried to obey, stopping a few feet in front of him. “Why would you say this? Were you the one who left the barracks?”
“No, sir. I didn’t—”
“Then you’re protecting the one who has.”
“No, sir, I was—”
“Enough.” Grey didn’t yell the word, but it had the same effect.
He scanned at the rest of the tyros. “Who here thinks Parry is the guilty party, and he should be punished for his betrayal?”
No one lifted their hand.
“We can’t know for sure until we interrogate him. Who will volunteer to wrest the truth from him?”
No one moved for a second, then a blonde girl at the end stepped forward.
“Freya.” Grey looked at Mace then at the blonde girl. “You volunteer to interrogate Parry?”
“No, sir.” She responded keeping her head high.
“Why did you step forward?”
“I was the person who left yesterday.”
Grey didn’t respond. A boy stepped forward. Grey looked at him. “Ketchen, explain yourself.”
“I was the person who left yesterday.”
After he said the words, more stepped forward, echoing his sentiment without being asked until the whole group had declared they were the ones who’d left.
Once they’d quieted, Grey said, “Return to your positions.” They all scurried into two neat rows. Grey looked at Mace. “I’m going to let Commander Mace take over from here.” He stepped back and Mace took over his place.
“What is the first thing I made you say together upon arrival?”
“We are a unit,” they spoke in unison.
“One of you forgot that yesterday. Don’t forget it again.” He glanced at the end of the group. “Freya, what interrogation method did Grey use to discover the truth?”
The girl startled, then stared straight ahead, flushing, reminding him of a brunette with curly hair. Mace clenched his fists. Even in a fucking exercise, he couldn’t keep his mind clear.
“He exploited a weakness,” Freya said quietly.
Mace’s eyes flicked to Parry in the back row, also red in the face, eyes straight ahead. “The relationships in a unit are sacred. No one person is more important than another. Relationships can also be weakness. They can be used against you.”
Words he’d said a hundred times to different groups of tyros, but this time his stomach swirled with nausea. What the fuck?
“The whole of the unit is more important than the individual.” He waited for the silence of the room to become annoying before he said, “Pair up. It’s time to get serious.”
The tyros broke their lines to match partners. Parry and Freya stayed far away from each other.
Grey rejoined him. “You didn’t go into the long-winded version this time,” he said. “That’s different.”
“Didn’t have it in me today for some reason.”
“You okay?” Grey asked the question as he turned to face him fully, like he was seeing Mace for the first time.
Mace ran a hand through his hair. “Fine, just preoccupied.”
“I can see that.”
A boy hit the mat with a groan nearby.
“On your feet, tyro,” Mace ordered, and the boy scrambled to stand, facing off with the girl once more. “A couple hours of training and I’ll be focused again.”
He’d said it with conviction but wondered who he was trying to convince, himself or Grey.