ARC10

Chapter 9.3

With a joyful bounce, I swipe my open files back into the main folder "10" and smile at the mostly blank pages and foreboding lack of information on my new buddies, the Xani. Even their supposed human-focused bigotry can't deflate my humor right now. I want to run to the HHP and get my results now so this whole pregnancy deal can end sooner. If I start early, can I finish early? Is that how this works?

Hayomo stands by my side and clears her throat expectantly.

I jump from the chair in what sturdiness I can muster and, while standing to attention, wait for her to speak.

"Settle down, Lorn," she says calmly, returning my salute. The distrust is still evident in her eyes, but the tone of her voice is softer and more reminiscent of a maternal figure.

There's a rush of puzzling trust.

I want to believe anything she says when she says it like that.

"I wanted to speak with you privately about the expectations I have of you for this mission."

I scan the room and realize the two of us are alone in the cavernous space with weird, dark lighting. "Yes, General," I say quickly. I let my shoulders relax an inch more. Finally, some clear direction.

"If you have been paying attention," she snaps, and my body goes rigid, "instead of dreaming over the whiny poetry you'll be writing your lovers later, you'll have heard that ARC10 is not going to be the pleasurable stroll through the galaxy as you might have been fantasizing about. It might be beneficial to wipe the ridiculous lovesick smirk off your banal face and see the dismal truth in front of you."

I stare back at her with my mouth slightly open.

Any assumption I held about reassurance, niceness, and soft crap disappears. The jagged lines that write her story on her face have seen twisted realities and possibly harder times than this. She has been places, and none of those places were probably nice or soft. To respond to her tone in the best way I can, I express nothing except the most stoic order-receiving mask.

"Because you don't take orders well and have a vagrant disregard for my directives," she continues, "I am telling you now that you will initiate no contact with the ARC10 host race."

My mouth opens and closes a few times like one of those fish they house in Level 4 in the giant aquaponic tanks. What the hell else am I supposed to do on this mission, then?

"Your main focus will be on the people. On keeping the peace. It will be my duty to deal with the Xani. I have met them previously and . . . I must admit . . . their exterior is a gallant reflection of the hideousness of their minds. If those monsters have one, that is."

I catch the tinted reflection from the pendant of the Hand of Our Lady from behind the collar of her uniform.

"The Xani are cruel, merciless beings with their own agendas. We will avoid them for the entirety of our journey. Our group will be exiled to one specific territory, and it is your primary duty to enforce order within their holding."

She takes the solitary chair at the ARC10 desk and leans back in it, staring at me with the full intensity of her distrust. "I will act as a conduit with messages from the Xani to the people. You will probably not see me often."

I experience the duality of my overwhelming excitement and my bone-crushing dread. I was never to be her second-in-command, but her replacement as she went to play peace-maker with our horrible hosts.

"Despite recent disregard for a commanding officer's orders, I've decided to trust you. The choice you made was stupid—astonishingly stupid—but brave. Do not think for one moment you'll be dismissed from your duties because of your condition."

Hayomo is presenting another challenge. She's building these obstacles for me like stairs. "No ma'am." I shake my head vehemently.

"You know," she continues, pulling out a small tin flask from her gray jacket's breast pocket, "when I first came to the URE and agreed to lead our armies, no one other than our astute President promoted me. I was told I'd be the mother of the future world. It's a responsibility I accepted with severity. Which is why we are here. We're a lot alike, you and I, Captain . . ."

She pauses briefly to take another swig and offer me some, but I shake my head respectfully and point at my abdomen.

". . . I'm asking you for the same level of commitment to protect the life you're creating while completing your mission to save the other two thousand not sloshing around in your womb."

"I will do it, General. I can promise that."

"Excellent. You better make sure your contracted partner's head is in this as well. His eyes haven't left you since you first waltzed into the room this morning, and I can't have two love-struck idiots in my company for this mission." With that, she takes a final swig, screws the tin cap back around the top, pulls herself off the metal chair, and walks away.

When I spin around, Dean stands in the doorway, averting his eyes as soon as he sees my glare.