2175

"Are you seriously going out to meet with this person?" Towers asked. "You don't know each other. She might be a psychopath that'll kill you because of what your uncle did."

Gorman snorted. "I doubt it. Besides, have you no faith in me?"

"Oh, I have faith in you. It's her I'm not so sure about. Why do you think it's a good idea you see her alone?"

"I feel like she'll be more willing to talk about what happened if it's just me."

The two were sitting in the base lounge, alone. The rest of the unit was off either in the armory or the gym, patiently waiting for the announcement to pack their bags and get ready to go home.

Towers bounced a rubber ball off the wall, playing catch with herself. "Last time you didn't listen to me, you nearly died."

"This is different." Gorman tried to get comfortable on the couch, draping a blanket over himself. "Could you wake me when it's almost time to go meet Amanda?"

Towers sighed. "Fine. If you really think going to talk to her is still a good idea, I won't stop you." She looked at him, noticing his shivering. "Geez, Gorman, we'll have to line your bed with napalm until you get better." She threw another blanket on him.

"That's actually not a bad idea," Gorman replied. He burrowed deeper into the blankets.

Towers watched him. "Do you want a cuddle-buddy?"

"My 'cuddle-buddy' is my wife. I only let you snuggle with me in the hospital because you were upset."

"Can I at least give you a hug?"

"Fine."

Towers put her arms under the blankets to hug Gorman. "Just get better soon so I can put more salt in your coffee and windup cockroaches in your drawers again."

Gorman smirked. "Oh, for a moment there, I thought you actually cared about me."

"I do care. I'm just joking. Like I always do." Towers patted Gorman's head before letting go. "I'll wake you up later. Go to sleep."

Gorman was only half-awake when he felt as though someone was watching him. He could hear breathing that wasn't his own, and he opened his eyes to see the smiling beak of a rubber ducky right in his face. Oh, Goddammit, Towers-

"Rise and shine, Gunny!" Towers squeezed the toy, shattering the silence of the lounge with a chorus of squeaking. "Time to go meet your new friend! Make sure you have pants on!"

Gorman gave her a dirty look. "I know I told you to wake me up, but you couldn't wake me up like a normal person?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

Groaning, Gorman sat up. "Hopefully, my only regret will be leaving you alone on base for a few hours."

"Don't worry about me, Gunny."

"Oh, I'm going to worry." Gorman left the lounge, stretching and rubbing his arms to get more blood flowing. His left arm was starting to hurt, and he contemplated taking a painkiller. It's not bad now, but I don't want it to get worse while I'm out.

He entered his bathroom with caution, checking every nook and cranny for Towers's handiwork. Everything Maxie had given him at the hospital was neatly lined up on the sink. A bottle of painkillers. Extra tape and bandages. A bottle of a powerful antibiotic in case that animal that attacked him was carrying some kind of bacteria. So far, he saw no need for it. He didn't feel warm at all, and he hoped his temporary anemia wasn't masking chills brought on by fever.

He hoped Lydia would keep this between them. This certainly wasn't the first time he had been wounded, but every single time, telling his family produced the same reaction: "Why don't you do something less dangerous?"

"If he's anything like Jethro, he won't quit. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever," his grandmother had said. "He loves it."

Gorman could remember being told that his great-uncle was known to spit in the face of death, that he put himself in harm's way when his fellow Marshals or civilians needed him. The more he read, the more he felt like Jethro would have been proud that Gorman picked a job as dangerous and vital as vent infiltration.

After swallowing a painkiller with water, Gorman put on a change of warmer clothes. He left Valen in charge for the next few hours, though he couldn't promise he would be back before curfew. After eight, buses stopped going to the base. Gorman would have to walk.

Not wanting Towers to worry, Gorman figured it was best to take a weapon. He didn't think Amanda was secretly seeking vengeance, but he did know that nighttime brought out the more seedy individuals. He slid his Mk24 into a holster he could easily conceal under his jacket.

In the western horizon, the sun was beginning to set. Blue merged with orange as light began spilling through the leaves of the jungle canopy not too far from the base perimeter. To the east, down the hill, Gorman could see the lights of downtown Netrayas turning on. All was quiet until a bus rolled up to the gates. Gorman displayed his pass as he stepped on. The bus was empty, which was a surprising since this was usually the time Marines wanted to go out on the town and have some fun.

The bus pulled away from the gates. It made its way around the base perimeter, disappearing into the dense jungle, which grew darker the further the sun set. Eventually, it returned to the light, heading down a largely empty road that would merge with a street full of identical-looking homes built for Marines' families. After going through a checkpoint, the bus would go down another road to get to the city.

Gorman sat upright when they came to the checkpoint. A sergeant walked in, looking around for any disorderly Marines, and checking the driver's credentials. He gave Gorman a nod and a smile before stepping off the bus.

Things grew busier as they entered the city. The driver stopped at a designated drop-off and pickup point, where Gorman got off. It was no different than when he took leave in Chicago. Now all I gotta do is find the Emerald Hotel.

The hotel was a few streets over. It was almost six, and Gorman was hoping he would make it to the alley on time. He quickly found it wasn't difficult to miss this hotel-there was a vibrant green fountain outside of it. Next door was, just as Amanda told him, a Greek restaurant.

A thought struck him. Instead of heading right into the alley, Gorman entered the restaurant, getting into a short line leading to the café portion. As he stood and waited, he hoped he wouldn't have to wait too long. He breathed a sigh of relief when he walked up to the counter, and ordered two cups of coffee to go. Once he received his order, he made his way through the dinner rush crowd to get back outside.

He entered the alley to see someone's sneakers sticking out next to a dumpster. As he drew closer, he saw they belonged to Amanda, sitting alone with her head down.

"Hey," Gorman said. He held out one of the foam cups. "I brought you a little something."

"Why?" Amanda asked.

Gorman shrugged. "Why not? Did it to be polite, and sometimes it's better to have something hot to drink while having a conversation. Good way to break the ice, too."

Amanda looked a little hesitant, but took the cup from Gorman. "Thanks. Where'd you get it?"

"Next door, from the restaurant." He sat next to her, carefully taking the lid off his cup. A delicious-smelling steam floated upward.

Amanda watched him for a minute, then sighed as she took the lid off of her cup to let the drink cool. "I guess we've got something in common," she said. "We're both searching for relatives. Only difference is that you now know what exactly happened to yours."

Gorman took a sip of his coffee. The pleasant heat of the thick drink flooded his body. "Yes. I just wish Gran knew."

Amanda fell silent again. "I have a vague idea of what happened to my mother. Haven't searched since, and . . . I'm not fully sure I can or should anymore."

"You said there was more to this story, and that you'd rather discuss it in private."

"Yeah. Remember how I said that the androids on Sevastopol were turned loose by their central system? Well . . . that wasn't a malfunction. It was a deliberate order. At some point before my ship arrived, someone had bought the station. Weyland-Yutani. Apparently . . . they wanted the creature, and they reprogrammed Apollo to protect it and kill everyone, because every human being on that station was a threat to it. It was odd, because I thought Waits had gotten rid of the only one." Amanda shook her head. "Turns out there were more, and he didn't know. They built an entire nest under the station's reactor. Purging it didn't work. Nothing seemed to work except . . . the whole station disintegrating. The gravity stabilizers were damaged and Sevastopol began falling into the planet's atmosphere. Not before . . . Not before I found some shred of information about what happened to my mother.

"She ran into the same type of creature. It killed everyone on the Nostromo. She had to destroy the ship, and she escaped on a lifeboat. Obviously, something else must've happened, because there's no fucking reason why it should take fifteen years for her to get back. Fifteen is now fifty-three. It'll be fifty-four next year. Something else happened."

"I'm sorry," Gorman said.

Amanda looked at him. "I'm going to be honest with you, Gorman, I won't be able to get over how much you sound like your uncle. Just . . . here I am, sitting with someone I should be much older than." She drew her legs up, setting the coffee on the ground before putting her head on her knees. "This wouldn't be the case if I could've just gone home."

"What happened? How'd you escape Sevastopol in the first place?"

"I had to spacewalk out to the Torrens, but . . . the creatures had gotten on the ship, so I . . . I ejected myself from it. I . . ." She hugged her knees tightly, shivering.

Without a word, Gorman put his arm around her. He was glad he had taken that painkiller beforehand; moving his arm would've been a bit more challenging without it. He didn't pressure Amanda to keep talking. Despite the stiff and torn muscles attempting to resist his movements under the bandages, he gently rubbed Amanda's shoulder. It was best to let her talk at her own pace. It was best to just listen. He felt like that was all she wanted.

"I was left floating in space till another ship picked me up," Amanda sobbed. "They took me back to Earth. My mistake was . . . trying to expose what had happened, until I was threatened by Weyland-Yutani. I left Earth. Went to LV-510. I figured it was best to join a small cargo ship with long hypersleep journeys. I took a fake name. You're the first person in thirty-eight fucking years to hear my real name."

"So, I'm guessing extended hypersleep is why you don't look like you've aged much."

"Yeah." Amanda looked up, taking in a breath. Her face was wet with tears. She locked eyes with Gorman. "I threw my life away. I couldn't just . . . get over it and live like everyone else. I just had to take the chance when they were looking for engineers in the region the Nostromo disappeared. I just had to take the chance when Samuels approached me saying the flight recorder had been found. I threw everything away! Mom . . . wasn't even there for me that often before she disappeared. Back for my eleventh birthday my ass."

"You still cared. You wanted answers. Nobody can blame you for that."

Amanda put her head back on her knees. "At least no one'll go searching for me if I disappear while on a job."

Gorman looked at her, his heart breaking for her. "Don't say that."

"It's true, though. Mom's gone. There's no fucking way a lifeboat's cryotube can sustain someone for fifty-some-odd years. I have no idea where my biological father is or whether or not he cares. Any friends I had are probably either dead or don't care. I can't fucking bring myself to tell my ship's captain, even though he's been the nicest to me all these years. What do I have left?"

"Me."

Amanda sighed. "Great. Marshal Waits's fucking nephew cares. What an achievement."

Gorman's heart sank. "I'm sorry you've become so bitter. I don't think this is your fault, though. Plus, I'm getting the impression . . . that you want someone to know, and care. Why else would you have opened up to me so fast?"

"Because somehow I knew you weren't going to blab to anyone in Weyland-Yutani about me. Not only that, you're a descendent of someone who died on Sevastopol as a result of them trying to get a fucking specimen. You and your family are probably owed money for that, so why would you try to shut me up? What does it matter, though? It's been almost forty years. No one's going to want to dig up the Sevastopol incident. Even if we did, who the hell wants to track down every relative of everyone who died on Sevastopol?"

"It might not happen today, but it could happen someday. I wouldn't assume this is going to be the rest of your life. Things can change for you. I'd say things have changed right now."

"Why do you say that?"

"You finally told someone about what's been traumatizing you."

There was more silence. Amanda kept staring straight ahead. "I guess you're right. I wasn't expecting to meet you. I thought I was just going to hang around for a few days before . . . before going back to sleep for another few months. Nothing would ever happen. Nothing has happened for me in a long time." She sighed again, then looked at Gorman. "What else do you want?"

"If I were to find out anything about your mother, how would I get ahold of you?"

"Oh, please, I'm not going down that road again. I gave up a long time ago."

Gorman paused to think. "If I just wanted to say 'hello,' and ask how you're doing, how would I contact you?"

"I shouldn't tell you."

Gorman glanced at his watch. "If that's all, then . . . I better head back to base." He picked up his coffee before standing. A part of him didn't feel like leaving Amanda alone here, but he also knew she had been on her own for a long time. As he turned to leave, he heard her stand.

"Gorman?"

He looked over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"The name I go by is Kip Lezura. My ship is called the Teal Nova."

"I'll remember that." Gorman smiled. "Remember my name, too. Just in case you ever need someone, or just want to chat. Oh, and remember to take care of yourself."

Shyly, Amanda nodded. "You, too." She held out her hand, and Gorman took it, gently squeezing it. She didn't let go as she opened her mouth to say something. For a moment, she hesitated, then said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Gorman turned, occasionally looking over his shoulder at Amanda. Once he entered the street, he knew it was likely going to be a very long time until they saw each other ever again.

He jumped when he heard someone trip and knock over a trash can. Whirling around, he saw Towers lying on the sidewalk. "Dammit," she spat. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

"Are you OK?" Gorman asked.

"I'm fine." Towers picked herself up.

"What are you doing out here? I don't remember you getting a pass."

"I snuck out with you!"

"Why?"

"Because I was afraid something was going to happen to you."

Gorman folded his arms over his chest. "Really? No. I'm not buying this bullshit from you. You tagged along-which is against the rules, by the way-because you wanted to play another prank on me. Maybe I was wrong in giving you a second chance and letting my guard down around you!"

Towers looked down at the sidewalk. "That's not true."

"And for the love of God, you could've gotten hurt! Do you have any idea how I would feel if I found out you had gotten seriously injured? I would never forgive myself!"

"Oh, so you do care."

"Of course I care!"

They stood in silence for a minute. Towers made eye contact with Gorman. "Is she crazy?"

"Is who crazy?"

"That woman we met in the café earlier."

"No. She's not crazy. She needed someone to talk to." Gorman sighed, uncrossing his arms. "I'll tell you about it when we get back to base."

Towers walked alongside him, not hesitating to grab Gorman's arm. "I really was worried."

"I know you were. I probably should've told you I brought my sidearm."

"You should have. Or else I would've stayed behind and rigged your shower with confetti."

Gorman was thrilled when his unit finally received the order to return home, though there was a part of him that wanted to see Amanda one more time.

He had other things to take care of. While he dug through the messages left by Jethro, he came across one that was probably sent and archived before the attack by the androids. In it was possibly his very last "I love you" to his sister.

Gorman knew what he had to do. Even if his grandmother wouldn't find out what really happened, it was best she knew her brother had loved her till the end.

When they came out of cryosleep at Gateway, the Marines wasted no time in boarding a shuttle back down to South Carolina. Gorman's heart was in his throat. He knew his wife and niece were waiting for him.

He saw nothing else when he saw Lydia near the terminal as the unit stepped off the shuttle. He dropped his duffel bag, opening his arms to let his wife run into them. She hugged him hard, and he lifted her slightly to spin her around. No words were said as they tightly squeezed one another. Lydia was breathing hard and crying, arms wrapped around Gorman's neck.

"Darling," Gorman whispered. "I'm alright."

"I know." Lydia looked up at him. "Jesus, you scared me."

"I'm sorry. I'm here, now." He smiled at her, though tears were running down his face as well.

She kissed him, he nuzzled her, and they both gently bumped foreheads before kissing. Their passionate moment was interrupted by a little girl saying, "Is it my turn for a hug from Uncle Scott?"

"Did you get a hotel room?" Gorman whispered.

"Yes," Lydia replied.

"OK. We'll cuddle later." He turned to Olivia. "Yes, it is your turn for a hug from Uncle Scott." Grinning, her picked her up. "Oh, dear, you're getting so big that soon I won't be able to do this anymore!"

Olivia shrieked with laughter. "What about piggyback?"

"You want a piggyback ride? OK." Gorman set her down and crouched so she could climb on his back. "And . . . upsy-daisy! Legs around my belly, sweetheart. Dangling hurts my neck."

Towers picked up Gorman's duffel bag and walked over, grinning. "Aww, she's adorable, Gunny."

"Towers," Gorman said, "this is my niece, Olivia. Olivia, this is my coworker, Towers."

"Her hair's in a ponytail, too!" Olivia chirped.

Towers held out Gorman's bag. "I take it you want me to leave you all alone?"

"For now, no offense," Gorman replied. "I . . . I have to take a trip up to Massachusetts. It's personal."

Lydia gave Gorman a confused look. "Massachusetts? Why?"

"I'll explain on the way to the hotel."

As they had done just two months prior, Gorman and Lydia stepped out of their car in the lot facing the cemetery. It was a much nicer day than it was when they first when to visit Esmeralda's freshly dug gravesite. There wasn't a cloud in the sky.

Grass had begun to cover the grave. Someone, likely one of Gorman's parents, had placed a tiny jar of paper four-leaf clovers by the headstone. A lump formed in Gorman's throat as he knelt in front of the stone. He unzipped one of the pockets on his jacket, and pulled out a thumb drive.

On the drive was Jethro Waits's last message. His last "I love you."

Gorman swallowed past the lump, and took a breath. "Hey, Gran. Hope . . . Hope you're resting well. I got some news for you about . . . about Jethro. I found out what actually happened. He . . . He didn't die when Sevastopol blew up. He was . . . murdered by an android. All these years later, I managed to find a lot of his documents, and he . . . he sent a lot of messages that never got to you. His last one . . ." Gorman looked down, clutching the drive. "He wanted to make sure you know he loves you." He kept his head down for several minutes, then drew in another breath. Gently, he dug a small hole next to the grave, and placed the drive in. He stared at it, then scooped the dirt back into the hole.

Lydia quietly walked over, touching Gorman's shoulder after he had finished burying the drive. "You OK?"

"Yeah." Gorman sighed. "I'll be alright."

Lydia helped him stand. "Do you feel like . . . you've achieved something?"

Gorman nodded. "Yeah. I got my answers. I hope . . . both Gran and Jethro can rest." His thoughts briefly turned to Amanda, and how she never got conclusive results with her search for her mother. One day, she will. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but perhaps soon.

Holding Lydia's hand, Gorman turned to head back to his car. "I should probably get back to base soon," he said.

"Why's that?" Lydia asked.

"I've left Towers alone for too long."

Question: How might Waits have assisted Amanda with her search for her mother if he had survived Sevastopol?

Author's Note: "Burning Bridges" will be undergoing a series of edits for chapters 13-16 and 23-30. This was a very long ride and one I'm proud to have taken, especially since this is the first story of mine to have turned into an audiobook.

Drake will be returning soon, along with some interesting treats that Denal Douglas and I have been preparing for some time. We're also going through the entirety of the series for editing, so new material won't be happening for a little while. The edits are to adjust the plotlines and characters, and address continuity errors that we've found while rereading through the series. Some books will be undergoing some pretty massive changes, so feel free to go back and reread them over the next several days. Happy reading, - Cat.