A Flight of Broken Wings: Aeriel Trilogy #1

Chapter 137

Simani and the others arrived a couple of hours after the police, accompanied by the local Hunters, had reached the villa, which had now been put under lockdown by the authorities. It was almost dawn by the time his partner burst through the door, looking as if she hadn't slept in a few decades. Apparently, after receiving Ashwin's text, she had commandeered the private jet of some hapless businessman for 'service to the nation' and flown out to Ibanborah at supersonic speeds that still hadn't been enough to quell her fretting – not until she actually saw Ruban alive and kicking with her own eyes.

The local authorities were just wrapping up their search of the house when the team from Ragah arrived. Not that they had found much, apart from what he and Ashwin had already discovered. Trying to explain the half-melted safe in the storeroom had given Ruban something of a headache, but he had finally managed it with some half-assed story about sensitive documents the Aeriels had tried to steal from his uncle.

His uncle. Ruban sighed, feeling his headache return with a vengeance.

They had taken the body to the nearest Hunter Quarters for a basic forensic run-through before it was to be flown to Ragah. Not that there was much doubt in anybody's mind about how he had died. Anyone with eyes could see he had been killed by an energy blast. Killed in action. He would be put to rest with full state honours.

"What happened?" Simani had asked, putting an arm around Ruban as they carried Subhas's body out of the house.

Her eyes had been so full of compassion and sadness that Ruban had almost blurted out the whole truth right then and there, had almost sobbed his confession into his partner's comforting shoulder. The only thing that had held him back was Hiya. There was not much he could do for her. But this was something he could give her. She deserved an untainted memory of her father, of her childhood. And he wouldn't take that away from her just to unburden his own conscience.

Bracing himself, forcing his voice to be steady, he told her the story he would tell a million other people a million more times over the course of the next few months – from reporters to biographers to the Director of the IAW himself. By the end of it, he half believed it himself.

"We had planned to lure Tauheen to the villa, Uncle Subhas and I." He was surprised by how little his voice quivered as he said it. And any hesitance he had could easily be attributed to the lingering shock of the battle, the sorrow of his loss. "It's away from the main town, so we had hoped we could deal with her here without endangering any civilians. He suspected there was a mole within the IAW, so we decided to do this on our own, without involving any outsiders who might compromise the mission and allow her to flee justice once again."

He continued the story, the words falling from his lips almost of their own accord, once he had begun. Even as his mind wandered, he kept talking, almost in a trance. This was exactly how it had happened – in another world, in another life.

Their plan had worked. Tauheen had fallen for the trap, entered the house where they lay waiting for her. They had attacked her. But she was powerful, far stronger than even they had expected her to be. She had fought back, had almost killed them both. Working together, they had barely managed to contain her. Then, just as they thought they had won, she had attacked Ruban. He had been sure he was going to die. But at the last moment, Uncle Subhas had pushed him out of the way, sacrificing his own life for his nephew's. Well, that part – at least – was the absolute truth, Ruban thought, swallowing a bitterness he could not explain.

Subhas Kinoh had died a hero, in the service of his country, his family. Enraged and grief-stricken, Ruban had killed Tauheen, he could barely remember how. Everything after his uncle's death was something of a blur.

A spark from one of Tauheen's energy shells had set fire to a rug, which in turn had incinerated half the furniture and Tauheen's body with it.

It wasn't a perfect story. But then, he didn't need a perfect story. He had neutralised one of the greatest terrorist threats of all time, had brought the true extent of her atrocities to light. He was a hero, his legend surpassed only by that of his uncle. Death always seemed to enhance one's deeds in life, good or bad. Nobody would think to doubt them. And if someone did, they would keep it to themselves. No one wanted to be seen as casting aspersions on the motives of national heroes. Being the media darling of the moment had to have some advantages after all, he thought sardonically.

And by the time the adulation was over, this would be an old story. And nobody cared what anybody else thought about an old story.

"It's time to go, Ruban," Simani murmured, touching him gently on the shoulder and snapping him out of his reverie. The house was empty, and he could hear the sounds of revving engines just outside the door. Ashwin stood at the threshold, leaning against the doorframe as he waited for them to join the others.

Ruban nodded, silently pushing himself off the step he had been sitting on. It was time to go home. Time to face the music. Time to face Hiya. He closed his eyes, wondering what he would say to her. What could you say to someone to make the destruction of their life seem bearable? Ruban certainly didn't know. Nobody had said very much to him. He hadn't given them the chance.

"Come on, let's go," Ashwin called, waving them out the door. "I have to report to my own superiors, you know."

Despite himself, Ruban felt a smirk lift the corners of his mouth. His superiors, indeed. If only they could know.

Flankedby his partner and his friend, Ruban walked out into the sunrise and towardsthe waiting police jeeps.