ARC10

Chapter 27

After I squeeze my way out my pod door, a thick silence permeates the air in the hallway. Noise has ceased to exist in the URE. Nothing stirs. It's as if the people of Earth have already left the planet behind.

A single phrase comes to mind as I head up the Rotunda toward the Freyer pod.

This is the calm before the storm—and from where I'm at, there's a massive shit-storm brewing.

We have twenty days before launch.

This sleepy shadow over the URE stretches all the way to Dean's.

He answers the door after the first buzz. The spell from the hallway breaks instantly. Now that he's ignored his regular military cuts, his thick, sleep-tousled hair flops to the side. It's impossible to stop the stupid grin as it cracks across my face. He's adorable—and he's alive.

Dean rubs the sleep off his face as he retreats into his pod. "Shut up and come in."

I stretch to ruffle his hair as I enter. He swats my arm away easily.

Warren sits up in his cot and smears away the sleep from his eyes with the side of his fist.

"How are you holding up, old man?" I lean against the door and fold my arms over my chest.

Dean meanders to his father's bedside to tidy the mess. My attention diverts to Warren mumbling into his lap and fumbling with the blankets. Grabbing his iron prosthetic, he throws it to the side of the bed where it clunks against the concrete floor and buzzes into activity.

"I'm fine."

"How's life off the Junk?"

"I said I'm fine."

"Dad," Dean warns.

"Listen, Lorn," he says in his gruff bass. "I wanted to say I appreciate what you did for me up there." His regional accent that had always been a background sludge around the noises of my childhood is nearly gone. It's replaced with a crisp, unfamiliar twang. It's Warren's regular voice, but in high definition.

I smile sweetly. "For you, Warren, anything." I hope he takes my comment in its intended sincerity. What I hear sounds like the bratty words of my youth. The accusation burns in Dean's eyes.

Attempting to appear more genuine, I continue. "Glad we could work this out. I run a tight ship and expect nothing but good humor and smiles from you."

I'm making it worse.

Silence intensifies the tension in the room. No one says anything as my condescending remark festers in front of us.

"Fuck off." His laser focus bores into my eyes. For the first time ever, the rage, the hate, the animosity in his eyes is unwavering. He means every syllable.

"And this is a perfect start."

Dean sighs. "Nika."

"The next time you're too stupid to listen to orders—" I enunciate, stabbing him with my point, "I'm just going to let the Xani have their way with you. I hear they especially like to probe fat assholes."

He sneers. "You should have let it kill me."

Dean's head snaps around to stare at the man in the bed.

Warren folds his arms across his chest, mirroring me."I'd rather be gutted by that alien trash than have to spend the next five years under you, cu—."

Dean cuts in between us and pulls me by the elbow out of the room as I lunge at the fat-fuck blobbed in his own sweat and sick around the bed. There's no choice but to follow him. I flick off the scum-faced dickhat over Dean's shoulder as he shoves me out.