“You start at the bottom, I’ll start at the top. Let’s check the timestamps.”
This proved quicker. He’d gotten almost halfway through the new files before Kat piped up. “I’ve found one!”
“I don’t know how we missed it before,” she shook her head, fingertips shaking as she drew up the holofile.
“Thank the…void,” she trailed off, her brow lowering. Her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but she froze, a jittery breath slipping out instead. “Lee, what does this mean?”
He was already out of his chair, and slipping around behind her, his hand reaching over her shoulder as he expanded the holofile so he could read it.
This one didn’t include any coding or any of the Commander’s handwritten notes. Instead, it held a short thread of communication from weeks and weeks back, sent from one Commander Yvette Blanche, “to the care of General Marion Narron”:
As agreed upon by myself, on behalf of the Commanding Council of the AMG, under the direction of Marion Narron, I accept responsibility for the faults and rash behavior of my cadets with regards to Academy Raids AX13-AR and AX27-AR and relinquish the full rights and access to all Raid Materials obtained during these missions per the claims as documented below. Any further actions regarding the sensitive material as outlined below are subject to review by the AMG Council.
Signed and corroborated on this day,
Raider Academy Commander, Yvette Blanche
Lee checked the date on the send receipt, reading the message through twice just to ensure he was understanding everything correctly. But he didn’t need to read the claims, didn’t need the refresh of what General Narron had proclaimed in their debriefing that day as his body tensed, already clamming up. The adrenaline or fight response smothered in a single shot as he braced his other hand against Kat’s shoulder, steadying himself.
Faults.
Rash behavior.
“This was sent mere days after our debriefing. They probably hadn’t even cleaned the General’s quarters from his stay on the ship before it went out,” Lee murmured, just to keep his lips moving, his body online. His voice tapered off, but still he hung onto Kat, clinging to her as the truth settled in.
“So when she was telling us that she didn’t hold us accountable… when she was conceding to our ‘bright futures’ and offering us her recommendation for Placement, she’d already conceded on our behalf, selling out and submitting to the General. She’d already given up.” And he could hear it in her voice as the words cracked, as something irreparable in her faltered.
“She was likely out of options, you hear me?” he said, crouching down before her, using words he barely believed.Faults. And even with his own hopes crashing down around him, the fluorescents beating into his skull, and a cacophony of confusion battering into him, he hung onto them. A sliver of resonance as he kept her face in view.
With a borrowed steadiness, and the memory of light, he gripped her hand, cupping her fingers as he urged her to look at him.
“Kat.” Her eyelashes fluttered, fighting for control. Even now fighting to stay with him.
“Kat,” he repeated, until eyelids flickering, she peered at him. And what he saw there had him scooping her up into his arms. She clung to him with a too-weak grip as he carried her out. The Hideaway had been mostly empty anyway at this hour. But Lee didn’t see a single face or feel their eyes as he clutched Kat to him, his most precious cargo. They didn’t need to do this here.
The stairways extended forever tonight, but he eventually reached the upper skywalk, and then the dorms.
He got them through his portal door and over to his bed, before the last of his strength waned.
Staring at the dark wall, in the safety of his dorm, with only the stars as their witness, and her warmth his assurance, the words finally spilled from her lips.
“Is this our fault?”
And there it was.
He hadn’t realized until he’d felt her crumble how much either of them had been banking on their Commander holding out for them. How much he had banked on her trusting them—on her believing in them. She’d always acted as if she held the upper hand; she held sway with the Council, the power and circumstances to stand up to the General. And with nothing standing in his way…
“We didn’t have a lot of time,” he said in a low voice, arms flexing around her protectively even before the threat could fully materialize. “We were unprepared going out there. We had to make a choice in the moment. And I still stand by it.”
“But we were right there. We could have helped, we could have found something, or done something. I could have said more in our debriefing…” Kat stammered. She shook her head like she could clear the error calculation from her mind, instead of raking it against everything she knew.
“She was protecting us. She didn’t want this for us,” Lee said quietly. “She didn’t want to have us looking over our backs for the General. But by shutting us out, she took away our agency in this, too.”
Kat shuddered as a sob forced its way up her spine.
Lee shifted her in his arms so he could see her face, speaking softly, swiftly, but he held her gaze the entire time. “I know what this looks like. I know what she meant to us, and to you, Kat. I know what you saw when you looked at her. But you don’t need her approval; she doesn’t define you. You are still you.”
“I wanted to be her,” she breathed. Barely an echo sent out into the world.
