Chapter 6
'connections'
Tomoyo couldn't stop fussing over Sakura, hugging her close and combing her hair back from her face, whether for Sakura's comfort or her own she didn't know. She'd been petrified throughout the entire attack and now her hands couldn't stop shaking, even though Li had found Sakura and she seemed to be alright.
"Are you sure you're all right, Sakura, really? Are you hungry, would you like some breakfast?"
Without waiting for a confirmation, Tomoyo steered Sakura firmly into the galley and sat her down in a chair. Maybe she couldn't crawl through a moving engine with ease, but at least she could cook.
Li seated himself in the chair opposite Sakura, watching her like always. This time he didn't seem to mind that Sakura was meeting his gaze so directly, her green eyes locked with his dark brown ones.
"Um, Li?"
"What?"
"For you too? Are you hungry?"
"Uh…" Distracted, Li dragged his gaze from Sakura to Tomoyo, her hands still trembling as she poured filtered water into a kettle. "Sure. If you're making something."
"I don't mind," Tomoyo said quickly, nervous under his direct stare. Not ten minutes earlier she'd seen him escort Sakura gently out of her hiding place with as much care as she would, and it seemed a strange contrast to her memory of Crossworlds. How could someone that could kill so ruthlessly be so kind?
Her thoughts trailed off when she realized the water wasn't heating like it was supposed to.
"Oh, not again," she groaned out loud, and knelt to get a better look at the burner. The oven was as old as the ship itself, and broke down twice as often. In spite of Touya's repeated attempts to straighten the wiring, it remained stubbornly fickle. "Not now, please…"
Li watched her lean over and bang helplessly on the knobs, trying to coax a flame out of the battered appliance. Without even thinking about it, he opened up his fist and whispered a few words, blowing softly in the oven's direction. The burner flared unexpectedly to life and Tomoyo squeaked, jumping back in her surprise. Sakura giggled and clapped her hands together, like an excited child at a show. She'd seen the entire thing, but Li couldn't be bothered to worry about it. A smile tugged at his lips when she beamed at him.
Tomoyo placed a hand over her beating heart and felt it begin to slow, and her breathing even out.
"I'm so glad I could entertain you, Sakura," she said wryly, glaring at the recalcitrant oven. "Silly thing doesn't even know whether it's broken or not."
"Do it again, do it again!" Sakura pleaded. Li shook his head slightly, placing a finger over his mouth in warning.
"I don't think so, Sakura, not if I want to keep all my hair," Tomoyo answered, blithely unaware of the interaction at the table. "Anyway, the burner's going steady now so I'll be able to fix you a bowl of meal in no time. Does that sound good?"
"Sew today?" Tomoy blinked at the rapid change in topic, and shot Sakura a puzzled look.
"Am I going to sew? Well, we did get some new material at Crossworlds. I suppose we could start something." If her hands would stop shaking in fear, that is. She rubbed them against one another trying to calm herself, but she still felt edgy. What she really needed was a nice hot shower.
Wistfully she fingered the lacy edge of her robe's sleeve. It was a luxury item to make in a place like this, but she'd done it anyway, homesick for the comforts of her old life. A steaming bubble bath with floral extracts would be ideal, but here she'd have to settle for the shower. And that would mean leaving Sakura alone with Li.
Sakura hated high-pitched noises, and she quickly turned off the burner when the kettle started whistling. Automatically she poured the boiling water into two bowls of dried porridge, stirred, and plunked them down on the table.
"Why did you save us?"
He looked up at the abrupt question, but he didn't seem surprised. "Why not?"
Why not, indeed. Maybe a professed criminal and killer like him enjoyed throwing around policemen for a little entertainment. It didn't explain why he'd pressed so hard to stay on the ship though, or why he'd dragged the story out of her.
Tomoyo skipped those questions and went to the most important one. "Are you going to hurt her?"
"Told you I wouldn't."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"Because if you couldn't," he said matter-of-factly after swallowing a mouthful of gruel, "you'd already be dead."
It made sense, in an oddly reassuring way, and she nodded after a moment. "All right, then. I'm going to take a shower. Will you watch her?"
He raised his eyebrows fractionally. "You're not afraid to leave her alone with me?"
"I am afraid," was the honest reply, "but that's not the point. I can see that she isn't." She nodded briefly to Sakura, who was happily devouring her breakfast and looking unconcerned with their conversation. He was still watching her when Tomoyo left the room, and neither looked up at her departure.
"She watches you pretty closely, doesn't she?" Sakura nodded vigorously without looking up, and Li lifted his own spoon again. He was hungry too, after all the excitement, and together they ate in a companiable silence. He could feel her eyes on him though, and whenever he looked up she would duck her head and smile again, batting her eyes.
It felt almost like she was... flirting.
He set his spoon down again. "You really should be scared of me too, you know. Everyone else is." As usual, she said nothing and only smiled. "I am not a nice person; I only saved you because I was curious about you. I've killed a lot of people. I don't even know how many; I've lost track."
"Fifty-two!" she said brightly, and he blinked in surprise.
"Uh, yeah, that sounds about right." He leaned forward, entranced. "You know a lot more than the people on this ship suspect, don't you?"
Her smile faded a little and she shrugged indifferently, eyes skittering to the table.
"I know you don't like to talk about it, but it's important, Sakura. More important than your friend or your brother can even imagine. What did they do to you?"
"Don't know."
"Yes, you do. What happened?"
"No," she whimpered. "Can't… secret…" She was panting now, and bit back a cry of pain. "Hurts."
"It hurts when you try to talk about it?" She nodded miserably, a pair of tears trickling down her cheeks.
"Don't cry," Li said quickly, envisioning another temper tantrum that would bring the captain and everyone else rushing into the room. "Don't cry. Here… look at this." He opened his palm toward her half-eaten bowl of porridge, concentrating. Within a few seconds, the grains began to dessicate, drying before their very eyes. The pure water that Tomoyo had poured in now welled up in beads on the surface and joined together, then jumped in a streaming arc over the rim of the bowl and splashed on the table surface.
Sakura stopped shaking, eyes riveted on the enchanted spill.
"Not bad, huh? I used to do this for my sisters' kids." Li motioned with one finger and the water hopped across the table, leaving a trail of droplets. Sakura's tears had dried up and she smiled tentatively.
"Pretty."
"It's about all I can do, really. Just small-scale control over things like flame and water and lightning, nothing too big. My real powers lie in combat." She was really smiling now and when he directed the water into a flowing loop on the table's surface, she laughed and clapped.
"Higher, higher!" Li opened his mouth to say that he couldn't float water, but before he could the little loop he'd created levitated directly into the air and hovered there, spinning. That prickly feeling crawled up the back of his mind again and he gasped, his concentration scattered. The water dropped back to the table with a splash and lay still. Sakura pouted in disappointment. "You dropped it!"
"I didn't float it," he rasped, eyes marbled in shock. "You did that, didn't you? I could feel you in my mind, like…" His memory traveled back to that mysterious headache, how'd he felt someone's presence in his mind. "You helped me heal that headache, didn't you?" Again she shrugged indifferently and looked away. "How did you do that?"
She traced her finger through the spilled water.
"No, no, don't keep avoiding me, Sakura. This is really important. Look here." Gently he gripped her chin and forced her to look up, into his eyes. "I know you know how important this is. No one can bind their magic with another's. You just did the impossible! I have to know how you did it."
Without realizing he'd leaned right over the width of the table in his eagerness, staring directly into Sakura's troubled eyes. For a long moment she was silent, trembling, and then she reached up and tweaked his nose.
"Tweet!"
She scampered out of the galley before the astonished Li could react, and he placed a hand over his indignified nose.
"Hey!" Something didn't feel quite right, and reflexively Li patted his chest. The little lump that was his enchanted sword was gone. "Oh no, she did not- come back here!"
A distant laugh was his only reply, and he scrambled over the table and out of the galley. She was skipping down the stairs into the cargo bay when he caught up with her, dangling his precious sword lightly between fingertips.
"Okay, you give that back right now." He descended the steps one at a time, pointing in what he assumed was a threatening manner. But she refused to be bothered by his dark glares like everyone else, and merely laughed again. "I'm not kidding, Sakura. That sword was left to me by my father, it's been passed down from generation to -"
"To generation in my family," Sakura finished in a bored tone. She shook her head regretfully. "So much work."
She trotted to the middle of the empty floor and settled her features into an uncharacteristic scowl, then assumed a traditional stance and pantomimed holding a full-length sword in her hand.
"How is this, master? Is this right?" She slashed at the air with her imaginary sword, and then again. "Is this? Must practice… every day… have to be… the best!" Li stared at the performance; her imitation so perfect that he could feel the old bruises throb on his palms. She lowered her hands and dropped the scowl, casting a sympathetic look toward Li. "No fun."
He shook his head to dispel the memories and strode forward.
"I think that's enough out of you." He grabbed at his pendant but she pulled back just in time with a giggle. "Okay, come on, give it back. That's not something to play with."
"You've never played."
"My training was very demanding," he said defensively. "You should be grateful that I worked so hard, otherwise you'd be back in government custody."
"So serious," she mocked, and swung his pendant before him teasingly. He made another unsuccessful swipe but – damn, her reflexes were quick – it wasn't fast enough.
"Of course I'm serious." Again he tried to grab it, again she sidled away in time. "I'm trying to fight a government conspiracy -" He tried again, no luck. "- that destroyed my family. Of all people you should understand…"
Bored with their little game, Sakura bent over backwards and kicked her feet up in a perfect back walkover.
"Hey, that was pretty good," Li praised in spite of himself. She glowed at his words and extended her hand. Not sure what was expected, Li placed his in it and she held on firmly before lifting her leg and balancing on one pointed toe. Humming happily under her breath, she straightened and executed a little twirl, her hand still in his. Completed, she tipped forward against his chest and traced a finger down his jawline. He was too shocked to move and could feel his heart thumping against her body, and then she broke away. Still humming gaily to herself, Sakura danced a circle around him. She paid no attention to the way his breath caught in his throat, or how his skin burned with her unexpected touch.
How could something change so quickly in such a short time? She was so disturbing, even frightening with her eccentric behavior and the peculiar way she watched him. Her mind might be prisoner to forces he didn't understand, but when he watched her dance he could see the spirit burning in her eyes. At that moment she became as wild and free as the name of the ship, and she became beautiful.
He took half a step toward her and then jerked to a halt at the sound of a loud gasp. There was a soft thump, and he looked up to see Tomoyo at the top of the stairs, her materials bag at her feet. The bag tumbled down one step and bolts of cloth spilled out, unrolling down the stairs like colorful streamers. Sakura dropped her arms and stood motionless, Li's sword slipping from her fingers and falling on the floor with a tiny crack.
"Oh- oh my," Tomoyo finally managed, gripping the stair rail for support. Her wide eyes moved from Sakura to Li. "H-how did you do it?"
Li couldn't understand the reason for her distress and fidgeted slightly, taking a defensive step back from Sakura.
"Do what?"
"She was dancing," Tomoyo whispered reverently, as if the word was too precious to say very loud.
"Yeah?"
"Sakura… she hasn't danced once, not since we found her." Tremulously she took a step and then another, never letting go of the rail. "She used to love to dance, she did it all the time – her brother played the piano and I sang and she would dance but she hasn't danced once since we got her back." She ran out of breath as she babbled and stopped to inhale, her lavender eyes filling with tears. "I didn't think she could."
Sakura hadn't moved, even to greet Tomoyo, and was staring at a random patch of wall on the ship. It didn't seem to matter to the dark-haired girl, gazing at him worshipfully with glassy eyes. Li felt uncomfortable and dropped his eyes, afraid she would know what he'd been thinking.
"I didn't mean to- I didn't do anything," he muttered. The thought that Sakura hadn't danced for anyone but him since her escape made his face flush again. Why him?
In an effort to keep his flaming cheeks hidden, he ducked his head and bent over to swipe the pendant off the floor.
"What's that?" she inquired.
"Ah, good luck charm." He tucked it safely back inside his shirt and backed away. "You're here now, so I think I'll go shower." Tomoyo couldn't see any of his eyes, completely curtained by the ragged bangs that fell over his face. She wanted to talk longer, ask him how he'd convinced Sakura to dance, but he hurried up the stairs and out of the cargo bay before she could say another word.
Oh well. Just those few seconds of seeing her dance was enough for now, and Tomoyo turned back to Sakura with a pleased smile.
"Sakura." She didn't twitch, still gazing where Li had just left. Her eyes were filled with tenderness and longing, so pure and intense that it took Tomoyo's breath away. This was something she'd never expected.
"Oh," she said softly, in understanding. "So that's how he got you to dance."
- - - - - -
Tomoyo had to clean up all her spilled materials after that, then wait for Li to vacate the shower before she could wash Sakura's hair. They'd hardly begun when Touya wandered into the galley and opened the fridge.
"How is she?"
"She's fine," Tomoyo reported. He straightened and popped the lid off a bottled drink, looking mildly surprised.
"She didn't get scared at all?" He'd been worried, but too anxious for Yuki to leave his side before. Tomoyo fidgeted a bit.
"Well, a little. But she's okay now. Just look at her!" She beamed and indicated Sakura, ignoring them both and bent over a swathe of green cotton, sewing industriously.
"I didn't know she could sew."
"Me neither!" Tomoyo gushed. "I never even taught her but I guess she must have been studying me this whole time. She insisted on doing this herself. Isn't it great?"
"Terrific," he replied absently. "After we drop something off at Aroc tonight we'll need to find a doctor for Yuki. Could you look one up?"
Tomoyo looked surprised, then nodded quickly.
"Of course." A flicker of worry passed through her eyes but she refrained from asking the details; she knew every bit as much as he did how fast Yuki was declining. "I'll take care of it."
"Thank you."
He took a moment to ruffle Sakura's hair, which made her purr, and left the galley to return to Yuki.
"Finally," Tomoyo whispered. "I was worried, but I didn't want to say anything, it wasn't my place. He must have finally convinced him to go." Sakura looked up and smiled briefly before returning her attention to the needle. Tomoyo realized then that she'd forgotten to tell Touya the most wonderful news, about Sakura dancing. He would be thrilled, for sure. He'd ask when it happened, and where, and how…
Tomoyo's smile faded away when she remembered Touya's intense dislike of their passenger. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to tell him after all.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Eric rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, desperately clinging to sleep in spite of the threat of consciousness. Every morning in his life was an ordeal, a struggle not to wake up and have to leave his nice bed for the brutal world outside. And this morning was worse than usual; he couldn't quite remember why, but he knew something was terribly wrong and to wake up would mean he'd have to face it.
What was it, though? He pleaded with his mind to go back to sleep, like he had earlier, but his body had had enough rest and the thoughts stubbornly refused to go away. There was no fighting it; he was awake. Eric grimaced and patted his hand near his head, automatically searching for his cigarettes and/or flask that he kept on the night table. But his hand found only empty space, and after a few moments of fruitless flapping he opened his eyes.
Aha. This wasn't his bed, or his room, which certainly explained the missing table. His jacket, which for some reason had grass stains on it, was crumpled on the floor by the bed and he reached down to explore its pockets. Generally, when Eric woke up in a strange room, it was because something extremely good had happened the night before. So why did he still have that nasty suspicion that something wasn't right?
He found his pack and lighter and sat up in the bed, placing a cigarette between his lips.
"Please don't smoke in here." The unexpected sound made him start and drop the cigarette in his lap, and his head jerked toward its source. Meilin was sitting in the corner of the small, bare room, studying a computer. The glow from the screen reflected off her hair and everything from the night before came rushing back. Eric whimpered a little in the back of his throat.
"So it wasn't a dream." After taking him what felt like twice around the city, they'd finally left the trains and she brought him here, to some ugly motel that only took cash. He didn't remember much after that; he must have fallen asleep as soon as he hit the sheets. Eric had never been so exhausted in his life.
"How are you feeling?"
"Horrible."
"It's to be expected, I suppose." She looked up briefly, her dark eyes examining him quickly and impersonally before she looked back at the screen. "You'll live."
Her sympathy was charming. Eric grunted and slid awkwardly out of bed, painfully aware that he'd slept in his clothes and they were now a crumpled mess. He stumbled through an ajar door and by happy chance found the bathroom, splashing his face with some cold water.
"What time is it?"
"Early afternoon. You slept quite a while." He wasn't sure if that was an accusing tone or not.
"Sorry, nearly dying tires me out." He tried to rake his blonde hair back into some semblance of order, failing at it, and then his mind caught up with him. "Aw crap, the office! My secretary's gonna freak, you gotta phone?"
Meilin looked up again, a disbelieving expression on her face.
"Somebody wants you dead, Senator. You're not making any phone calls for the time being." Eric flushed hotly under her condescending gaze and crossed his arms.
"Well, what am I supposed to do, just sit here?"
"Actually…" She shut the little computer with a snap and gave him a cool, measuring look. "I did have something in mind."
- - - - - - - -
"You gotta be kidding me," Eric said numbly, staring glazedly at the vast white building in front of them. "I'm not even allowed to call my office, but we're going to walk right in?"
"Phone calls they trace," Meilin said matter-of-factly. "But they won't be expecting you to show up in person, will they? In any case, we're not going to your office." She started up the steps, toward the large and ornamental public doors. Eric felt horribly conspicuous, standing there on the naked marble steps, and hurried after her. Meilin had purchased an old baseball cap from a thrift shop and pulled it down low over his eyes, on the way here, but the interplanetary politician wondered how it could possibly be enough.
"Well, are you going to let me in on the plan? Just a little?"
"In a minute." She placed a finger over her lips to indicate silence and entered the tourist lobby. Today she was dressed in a trim and cropped red shirt, and crisp linen pants. A world away from that gold dress, unfortunately, but ordinary looking enough that the guard hardly spared her a second glance before examining the contents of her purse. Eric, in his wrinkled button-down shirt and threadbare cap, merited an actual frown. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking; it seemed his face wasn't quite so well-known as he'd thought. The guard stepped aside, though, and allowed him to pass through the metal and then ceruleum detectors.
"Tour group's just gettin' started," he muttered. "Ye'd better hurry."
"Oh, thank you so much," Meilin cooed, and clutched Eric's hand to pull him closer. "Come along, darling, or we'll miss it!" Bright smile plastered all over her face, she tugged him across the echoing marble chamber. Near the hallway, a small group of fidgety sightseers had gathered around a perky tour guide.
"Gather 'round, everyone, gather 'round! Welcome to the Capitol building of the Solarian system, formally known as the Legislative Halls. Each year well over a million visitors come to see…"
"Nice acting job," Eric hissed in her ear, taking advantage of their nearness to whisper right in her ear. "You really are talented, aren't you?"
"Talented?"
"At misleading people." He tried to ignore that little knot of disappointment in his chest when he said that, but his tone was more cynical than he intended. Meilin glanced up briefly, looking a little taken aback.
"It's part of what I do."
"I know," he said irritably. Someone cleared her throat and he looked up to see the tour guide, along with everyone else, looking at them.
"Are we ready?" she queried, in a forcibly polite manner.
"Uh, yeah," he stammered, wishing he could pull the cap brim lower without looking completely criminal. "We're ready, thanks."
"Good! Now if you'll all just follow me, we're walking, we're walking…"
"In case I didn't make it clear earlier," Meilin murmured, once everyone's attention was back on the guide, "we came in this way to avoid notice."
"I figured," he huffed. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm doing the best I can, and you still haven't explained why you brought me here in the first place."
"…and this is the Chamber of Monuments, each statue representing the one hundred districts in our system. Go ahead, see if you can find yours!" The smallish group obediently scattered, and Meilin pulled him a safe distance from the others.
"I had an idea when you were sleeping, this morning."
"Really? When I was in bed?"
"Yes," she answered disinterestedly, pretending to admire a statue and paying no attention to the gleam in his eye. "I've been lurking in this building for months, trying to get a look at Pindexter's personal files. I'm a good hacker but the security of the Capitol building is too much for me at night. But the secure section that houses your private offices is too risky to try and hack during the daylight. So I thought -"
"That I could get you through the magic door," Eric finished. "And then we just break into Pindexter's office? Are you crazy? There's a hundred ways this could go wrong."
"I'm aware of the danger," Meilin said firmly. "But the quorum is just a week away and I'm running out of options. You told me you didn't want to just sit around – do you want to help me or not?"
Eric narrowed his eyes.
"Is this why you saved me? So I could be your walking passcode?" She gasped indignantly at that, and something that looked like genuine hurt flickered through her eyes.
"Excuse me," the tour guide pipped, her tone just a little frostier this time. "Excuse me, we're moving on, if everyone's ready." She looked meaningfully in their direction and Meilin spun on her heels to march away from him, her long obsidian hair swishing with the movement. The hurt look disappeared as quickly as it had come, perhaps only his imagination, and he could only hurry to catch up.
"Slow down!" he whispered urgently. "People are looking at you weird." Indeed, the other members of the group were eyeing them curiously. "You're the one that said not to attract notice." She said nothing, but did slow down enough for him to drape a casual arm over her shoulders in semblance of affection. "I'm sorry, all right? I just don't get why you're so determined to get in his office – and why have you been watching him for so long, anyway?"
She looked away for a brief moment before answering.
"Jacob Pindexter authored the bill that destroyed my family." It was enough of a surprise that he stopped walking completely, and she took a couple steps ahead of him.
"Say what?"
"He wrote, sponsored, and campaigned relentlessly until he passed the Sorcery Acts, five years ago. And now he's trying to expand on them with this new bill, the one you hate so much. My enemy is your enemy too."
Eric stared at her while the rest of the group filtered past, moving into the next chamber. She returned his stare coolly and then turned to join them, leaving him to trail behind in nonplussed silence.
"We're walking, we're walking, and we're stopping," directed the guide. "Here you'll no doubt recognize the famous Winged Justice figure, overlooking the central chamber. The sword in her left hand symbolizes the punishment laws hold for the wicked, and the flowering branch in her right symbolizes the peace and prosperity of those who obey the law. It's prized as the most beautiful and high-profile artwork on the planet, perhaps even the entire system."
Everyone clustered around the statue's base to take pictures. Meilin remained near the doorway, hands lightly clasped together as she stared glassily at the figure. She didn't look at Eric, but when he was standing close enough she spoke.
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
"Yeah, I guess." He tried to remember when the last time was he'd even been through this room, let alone taken a good look. It really was an amazing sculpture, etched from an exotic iridescent type of marble that reflected the light around it. The angel's hair flowed down her back and over her long wings, her eyes closed in a peaceful expression as if she was merely enjoying some breeze that they couldn't feel. The sword she carried was held firmly but not raised in attack, and the flowers she clutched to her breast. "I never really thought about it; we don't normally go through this room."
"I supposed as much," she said quietly. "My family never saw Justice either." She bowed her head and closed her eyes, and Eric was struck by the similarity between her and the famous artwork. "The Sorcery Acts required anyone magical to register with the government, disclose their abilities, wear identification on their clothing. My family did not care to get involved in such things, we believed in keeping to ourselves and not meddling with political affairs. We never hurt anyone, but two years ago the police froze our assets and declared us criminals for our noncompliance. No one even offered a recourse for defense; it was obvious the government wanted to make an example of us. With no alternative to preserve our dignity, my family has scattered and gone into hiding."
Her facial expression never even twitched as she spoke, but the emotionless way she related the story somehow made it all the more chilling. The Sorcery Acts were passed into law before he'd even finished school back on his home planet. He'd always disliked them, but he'd never dreamed they could be so destructive.
"But you're not hiding," he pointed out after a few seconds. She opened her eyes and smiled, if rather grimly.
"I've never been one for hiding. The government committed a travesty against that angel and robbed us of our freedom. I'll fight it to the death if I have to."
The tour guide was still rattling on about the history of the statue and the grand central chamber. Without warning Meilin snagged Eric by the wrist and marched out of the room, back into the hallway.
"We've wasted enough time, let's go." Eric felt a fresh surge of fear as he stumbled and tried to match her stride.
"B-but what about Pindexter? What makes you think he won't be there?"
"He's hosting a press conference in the media wing of the building; I looked it up online while you were sleeping. His press secretary will be with him and it's late enough that anyone else will have left. Now is our only window." They rounded a corner and turned into another long, silent hallway. She was right; it was nearing late afternoon and on a non-session day capitol staff was notorious for vanishing from their offices by this time. Before long they were standing in front of the Restricted Access door, and while Meilin kept watch, Eric pushed the cap up and waited for the tiny camera to perform a retinal scan. He half expected an alarm to start blaring, after everything that had happened the previous night, but the door slid open without any fuss or dramatics whatsoever.
Meilin walked through without any hesitation, and Eric suddenly realized something.
"Hey, how'd you get through the ceruleum detector at the front of the building?"
"Ceruleum?" She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. "I never said I had magic."
"But -"
"I was merely raised by those that do. It's handy, living in a city where they fear sorcery more than anything else. If only they knew how dangerous someone non-magical could be." Eric caught a glimpse of a fierce glitter in her dark eyes and gulped. They were walking really fast now, down the opposite corridor that he usually took to get to his office. Instead they turned a corner and followed the passage to its end. It beat him how she knew her way around so well; he didn't even know where his fellow Hollyn senators were located, let alone someone like Pindexter. But there was his name, fixed onto the last door of the corridor.
Meilin tried the handle and found it was locked, which meant the office on the other side was indeed empty. She withdrew from her purse what Eric first took to be lipstick, until she unscrewed the cap and revealed a set of sharp picks.
"This family of yours teach you how to pick locks when you were a kid?"
"Of course not. But it's necessary knowledge, and I'm a fast learner." She wasn't even done speaking before the locks had tumbled and she turned the handle, allowing them entrance. The very first sight that greeted Eric was Jacob Pindexter himself, beaming at them in all his self-righteous glory. He flinched before he realized he was looking at an oversized portrait, between the flag stands, then grimaced.
"Yuck, is that what they have to look at all day in here? I feel sorry for his staff."
"Don't waste too much sympathy on them." Meilin began work on the second set of doors that led to Pindexter's private office space. "They benefit very well working for a man so influential in the Senate. I've seen many of his underlings receive some interesting job offers in certain industries. Industries regulated by the committees that Pindexter chairs."
Eric snorted. "Nothing less from him."
Meilin managed to pick the locks at last and entered the smaller office. While the front office looked much like Eric's: a couple desks for secretaries, intern stations, and neat stacks of papers everywhere, the interior office was another story entirely. Eric's was a shambles, an In tray loaded down with petitions and requests from his home district and wadded up memos thrown all over the floor. The vast bound copy of 'Rules of Order in the Senatorial Chambers' was never in its place on the shelf, since it made the ideal rest for his ashtray on the desk. The only thing he'd bothered to put up on the wall was a large dartboard, usually covered with a news article announcing yet another government handout or regulation.
This was a different world. Pindexter's shelves were lined with pretentious-looking books of law and biographies of famous statesmen in the past. Right away he spotted several that the man had written himself. Unbelievably enough, he had another picture of himself on the wall, this one of him shaking hands and looking jovial with Chairman Bayne. The only paper on the vast mahogany desk was the stack of neatly bound copies of XP-314, next to the humming computer. Meilin was already sitting in the luxury leather chair and tapping on the keyboard, scowling as she threaded her way around Pindexter's security codes.
"What a crock," Eric griped, thumping the desk with his foot. "How come he gets furniture so much nicer than mine? And a corner office?"
"Don't tell me a son of the Masters family of Hollyn can't afford a better desk," Meilin commented dryly. "Your father essentially bought your position for you, didn't he?"
Eric flushed and crossed his arms.
"It's not like I asked for it. Told him I didn't want to be a politician but he said the family needed a good connection here, and besides, did I have any other legitimate ambition?" He snorted, again. "He's paying for it now, though. Six months and I haven't even tried to get on a committee, let alone chair one. Haven't negotiated for any military bases in my district, haven't even sent them a good fat government contract. I'm a complete failure," he finished proudly. Meilin looked up from the screen with a frown in her eyes.
"Some people would do anything for the opportunity your father gave you. You're in a position to do so much good."
"Don't fool yourself," Eric advised, flipping casually through Pindexter's self-important autobiography. "The people in my position are nothing crooks, and they designed the system to work for them. Someone like me isn't going to change anything. I just make trouble for people like him because it's fun."
Meilin opened her mouth to reply when the computer gave a soft beep; she'd managed to find her way into his personal files at last.
"Well, I hope the 'fun' was worth it." She rotated the flat monitor so he could see his own picture on the screen, and the word DANGEROUS slapped next to it in big red capitals. Underneath it stated must eliminate. "Because whether you consider yourself important or not, somebody is very interested in you."
Eric stared at his picture in shock, cold water trickling down his spine, opening his mouth without making any sound.
"I- I didn't…" he finally wheezed, "know. I mean, I didn't think they cared."
"Neither did my family." Meilin's expression softened, a little, before she turned the monitor back around. Stunned, Eric slumped against the narrow ledge under the book shelf and stared dully at the picture of Pindexter in the thickening darkness. Who would have ever guessed that such a genial looking man housed such sinister thoughts? As an innocent outsider to D.C., Eric loathed the wheeling and dealing that thrived in these chambers, and held Pindexter in contempt as the worst of the lot. Thwarting his motions and proposals in Senate had been a game, a rare gleam of satisfaction in an otherwise dreary schedule. He'd never thought it was anything more until last night, but seeing his picture in Pindexter's file made it a cold reality.
Eric was in over his head, and he just wanted to go home.
Meilin's gasp startled him out of his gloomy thoughts, and he looked up to see her hand clapped over her mouth, eyes wide with shock. It was so peculiar to see surprise on her face that he had to ask.
"Now what?"
"It's here," she whispered, more to herself than him. "What's it doing here?"
"What's what doing where?" He perched on the edge of the desk and craned his neck to get a view. The screen was loaded down with a lot of technical information that he didn't understand, but it looked like schematics for some kind of satellite construction. In the top right corner a file tag labeled it as Project Clow.
"What? What is it?"
"I'm not really sure," Meilin answered dazedly, scrolling past the impossibly complicated specs. "Clow. I don't know what it means, but it's supposedly some top-secret project the government's been working on for years. Classification 'nova', really high level stuff. My partner heard about it through the rumors of the conspiracy world and became obsessed with the thought of it, insisted that he had to go find it. I told him it was pointless; it didn't have anything to do with our own problems, but he wouldn't listen. He got like that sometimes, with his sorcerer's intuition. When it nags at him he can never refuse."
Eric looked at her as she spoke, watching her eyes dart across the screen.
"You have a partner? Like a boyfriend?" To his relief she shook her head, and even smiled. It was the first time he'd seen her smile.
"No, my cousin. Though he's more like an older brother; my parents died when I was just a baby and his mother took me in, raised me with the rest of her children. We trained in combat together, and he's looked out for me as long as I can remember. We were just ten when he fought off two men that attacked us – it was his first fight. He wouldn't even let me help, he always had to be the strong one."
Her smile faded.
"He got a lead on Clow and went to a base on Tyrinthia to check it out. That was over a month ago and I haven't heard from him since. His bounty is still posted, so I know he hasn't been arrested, but that's no guarantee he's all right. We're all each other has, ever since the family broke up." She looked a little fragile as she said those words, and more emotional than he'd seen her since they met. Unthinkingly he placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sure he's okay," he ventured, feeling awkward. "Maybe he just got stuck somewhere and had to lie low. If he's half as tough as you are, he must be all right."
"Tougher," Meilin murmured, and finally raised her eyes to meet his. "Thank you."
At that moment, her face bathed in the untrustworthy light of the computer screen, Eric thought he saw another emotion flash through her eyes. Before he could identify it, there was a loud bang from the outer office as someone slammed the door open. Meilin rocketed out of her chair and vaulted over the desk, flying straight toward the open doorway with her foot extended. A man in black appeared there just a second before she made contact; too late, he tried to twist out of her path but her heel connected with his chest and they both fell heavily against the floor. Meilin sprang to her feet and grabbed the nearest weapon she could find, which happened to be the ornamental staff that bore Tyrinthia's flag, and swung it at the man's partner. His gun went flying across the room.
"Get back!" she shouted to Eric, staring from the doorway. "Get the disc in my bag – copy everything you can!" This man was better than those from last night, it was obvious, and he jumped back to avoid a heavy blow before darting in to kick. She barely parried it in time and assumed a more defensive stance, putting distance between them.
Eric dragged himself away from the scene and started pawing frantically through her purse. Disc, disc, where was the disc? There didn't seem to be anything in here but makeup. Then he had a flash of inspiration and opened her compact. Underneath the powder puff was a tiny blank disc, and he pushed it impatiently into the computer's drive.
"But how did they know?" he despaired out loud. Meilin didn't take her eyes off her opponent.
"Someone must have checked the retinal scan's computer and saw you were here. I thought they might."
"You what!"
"It was worth the risk." The agent grabbed a chair behind him and threw it full in her face with a loud cry. She blocked her body from the impact but was still knocked backward against the wall with her defense dropped. He saw his opening and leapt at her with a punch.
"Come on… come on…" Eric muttered, watching the hard drives files copy themselves slowly to disc. Why were they taking so long?
Just in time Meilin twisted and rammed her opponent into the wall, crashing his skull mercilessly against the hard surface. He slid to the floor in a heap, and triumphantly Eric ejected the disc from the computer.
"Freeze! Hands on your head, get down on the ground!"
Eric froze, even though he knew the man couldn't see him. Through the doorway he saw Meilin raise her hands obediently, her face pale but determined. She wasn't panicking, so why should he? But even Meilin couldn't take on someone holding a gun on her from a distance, she needed surprise on her side like the night before, something to distract the agent…
Eric's gaze fell on the stack of XP-314 copies, and the memory of an earlier threat clicked in his mind. There wasn't any time to think about it; he just grabbed one and sidled to the far back corner, away from the doorway. The smoke detectors in this building were state of the art and extremely small, usually never even noticed, but he knew exactly where it was thanks to disabling his every morning so he could smoke in his office. With no small amount of satisfaction he thumbed the latch of his lighter and held it down, waiting until the flames caught hold of Pindexter's precious bill.
The agent, properly cautious, waited until Meilin was on her knees and her fingers laced behind her head before he approached her, gun at the ready. She could no longer see Eric out of the corner of her eye but didn't turn her head to look; the new arrival had no idea she wasn't alone and she didn't intend to enlighten him. He was pulling a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and she tensed inwardly.
Just when she was preparing to strike a harsh bell rang and water sprayed from the ceiling, catching them both by surprise. Already on the verge of attack, she was the first to recover and she sprang to her feet, twisting his arm behind him and immobilizing his weapon before cutting off his air. She was soaked by the time he stopped struggling and dropped to the floor, unconscious.
Eric emerged from the office with her bag in hand.
"Got it! Let's get out of here, please?"
"Glad to," she assured him. Under the cover of a blaring alarm and the raining ceiling, they sprinted down the halls and through the building, to emerge dripping but safe into the quiet twilight outside.
- - - - - -
"Smith."
"You incompetent," Pindexter snarled, over the sound of the blasted alarm still going in the background. His normally pallid face was scarlet with fury as he watched the building security pick through his sodden and trashed office. "You inept fool! You said you'd take care of that snotty Masters kid days ago and he was here, he was in my office looking at god knows what. Don't you think that's a little worrisome? A cause for concern? A bloody screw up on your part?"
"You shouldn't shout so, Senator," the voice on the other end of the line commented dryly. "Stress is unhealthy for someone your age."
"Shut up. What the hell have you got to say for yourself?"
"Well, it seems there's been some kind of interference in both assassination attempts. Reports from the surviving members of the team indicate a young woman -"
"Young woman," Pindexter repeated scathingly. "Well, I'm sorry, I had no idea there were such obstacles in the way of our federal forces. What was I thinking, that to snuff one arrogant little pest would be a simple matter?"
"That's quite enough, Senator," was his crisp answer. "There's more to this than it seems, I'm quite sure. I will take care of the Hollyn senator, in one way or another, before your bill comes to a vote. You just make sure it gets passed."
The line went dead, ending the conversation, and Pindexter threw the phone against the wall in a burst of anger. It landed in a puddle with a splash.
- - - - - - -
"Acknowledged, Cargo Freighter 7001-3B, shifting course to port." Yukito grimaced a little as he adjusted the Wildflower's programmed route, but he really didn't have any alternative. When it came to intersecting paths in the middle of space, it was always the smaller ship that changed direction. Sakura snaked her hand over the console under his, trying to help, and he caught her wrist just in time.
"I told you, don't touch that."
"But I want to help!"
"I know you do, sweetheart, but this is tricky. Let Yuki the Ace Pilot take care of this, okay?" He pushed her firmly back into her chair and finished reprogramming, but she didn't stay still more than three seconds before she was up and exploring again.
"Careful, those are bare wires!" He yanked back on her blouse and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arm around her firmly. "I can see I'm going to have to keep you right here so you won't blow the ship right out of space. You are a troublesome thing, aren't you?"
She wrinkled her nose with a mischievous grin and bounced happily on his lap, which was probably all she'd wanted from the beginning. He and Touya had realized quite early on after the rescue that she had some form of mild crush on Yuki, often watching him do his chores or enticing him to hold her hand. She had a habit of staring unabashedly when the two of them stole a quick kiss, and even, much to Touya's embarrassment, would crawl into their bunk if she woke in the middle of the night.
"You couldn't have gotten much sleep last night, aren't you tired? You should take a nap like your brother's doing."
"M-mm," she denied, shaking her head vigorously. "Not sleepy. I want to help you fly!"
"Really? Then tell me what this button does."
"That's the engine fuel filter," she replied in a bored tone.
"And this?"
"Shield control."
"What about this one?"
"Close range intership communication."
"Very good," he praised, and she glowed.
"I can fly, you know," she informed him seriously. "Just like you."
"Sure you can, sweetie. I know you memorized all the buttons, but there's a little more to it than that."
"I miss flying," she sighed tragically. "But it wasn't so fun, there. Not enough room. When are we going back?"
"Back where?"
"For him," she said impatiently, as if he should have known that. "You know."
Yuki tried to swallow a groan; not this again! She'd brought something like this up a few times in the past, but it seemed she started the nonsensical routine more often lately. It baffled the others too, but all he could do was play along.
"For who?"
"For him," she said crossly. "Brother."
"Your brother's downstairs, Sakura, you know that. He's perfectly fine."
"No!" She pouted and bit her lip. "Brother… yours."
Now Yukito was really confused.
"Silly, I'm an orphan, you know that. I don't have any siblings; you're the one with the brother." Sakura's face crumpled like she was about to cry, and she whimpered.
"Left him, left him behind, he was my friend and he's… alone…" She started to hiccup and Yukito hastily bounced her on his knee, like a cranky baby that needed soothing.
"Shh, don't cry. It's okay, Sakura, honestly. I promise we'll find him." He felt a trifle guilty saying it so rashly like that, but it was obviously what she needed to hear. Immediately her tears dried up and she smiled.
"Really?"
"Uh, really."
"Yay!" She squeezed him hard in an enthusiastic embrace and he returned it, grateful to have avoided the brewing tantrum so easily.
"I should be jealous," someone commented from the hatchway, and he looked over Sakura's shoulder to see Touya watching them and grinning.
"Of me or your sister?" he teased. "Afraid we'll run off together and start our own cargo ship, free from bossy captains that spy on their pilots?" Sakura giggled; Touya made a face.
"Ha ha. How are you feeling?"
"Fine."
"Really?" Touya crossed the narrow space of the cockpit and laid his hand over Yuki's brow, then felt his pulse. Yukito brushed his hand away with a roll of the eyes.
"Really really. I know I promised I'd go to the doctor later, but right now I really feel fine. I wouldn't mind if you took her off my hands for a little while though, Partine isn't far away and there's a lot more traffic around us. I need my hands free."
"Gotcha." Touya grunted as he hefted Sakura off Yuki's lap and shot her a stern look. "Time to stop pestering Yuki, Sakura. He likes me more than a monster like you, anyway." Her response was to stick out her tongue, before Touya swung her over his shoulder so she could ride on his back. "We'll be sorting laundry down in the bunk. Call me if anything happens."
"I will. We'll be there in another couple of hours."
"Right." The siblings left the cockpit, and Yuki tried to concentrate on his job of piloting the ship. Those pleas from Sakura still nagged, though.
Brother. What did she mean?
- - - - - -
Downstairs, Touya was having his own troubles with Sakura. It was just one of those days where she was too energetic to sit still, and absolutely not in the mood to be compliant. He knew Tomoyo was trying to cook dinner and didn't want to bother her, and of course asking the passenger to help was out of the question. He hadn't seen the kid for most of the day, which was more than all right with him, and he'd be happy when they ditched him at Partine for good.
Sakura picked up his tattered engine maintenance book and thumbed through it upside down.
"Put that back, Sakura, I need that. I don't want you to rip the pages." She blew her bangs out of her eyes and gave him an irritated look before dropping the book on the bed and opening one of his drawers. "Hey, stop that. Get out of there, that's my personal stuff." He sighed, exasperated, when she ignored him and started pawing through his clothes. "Of course, you never listened to me when we were younger, so why would you listen to me now? Stop it, stop making a mess out of everything."
He leaned forward from his cross-legged position on the floor, but he couldn't quite reach her and didn't feel like getting up. He groaned when she started pulling shirts and socks out and tossing them on the floor, amongst his pile of dirty laundry.
"Damn it, Sakura, for the last time -" Her hands stopped moving, and then she withdrew a small, rectangular lockbox, studying it curiously. "That's where I keep my personal things, and yes, it's locked." He added that last part when she tried to force it open and looked at him inquisitively. "Sorry, but I lost the key months ago and I haven't had time to ask a locksmith for a replacement. Now would you mind putting it and everything else back where you found it?"
She scanned the tiny bunk with a thoughtful frown, then scooted across the bed to Yuki's small cubby shelf.
"Stop it," he said for the millionth time. "That's Yuki's stuff and he -" She snatched his extra pair of glasses and bent the frame in her hands, warping the shape beyond repair. "Hey! Sakura, what do you -"
Deaf to his startled exclamation, Sakura expertly inserted one end of the mangled glasses into the lock. The lid clicked and popped open. The reprimand died on his lips and he stared, stunned, at the girl now happily pawing through his box.
"Sakura! How did you do that?"
He scrambled up onto the bed and she looked at him blankly.
"Don't look at me like that, how did you do that? How did you know to break Yuki's glasses like that?" She didn't seem to understand his questions and just looked puzzled, then started to sniffle. "Hey no, don't cry. I mean, he's got another pair. I just wanted to know how you knew…"
A few tears trickled out and ran down her cheeks; more than anything else Sakura hated to make her brother upset. Hastily Touya found a clean handkerchief on the piles of clothing and wiped at her face.
"It's okay, Sakura, I'm not angry. I just wanted to know, that's all." She seemed a little more cheered at that, and resumed digging through his things. His breath caught in his throat when she held up a flat plastic photokeeper. "You know what that is, right? It's a photograph, a really old one."
He placed his fingers over hers and pried the clasp apart; open, it displayed a tiny holographic image of a beautiful woman with long hair.
"You know who that is? That's our mom. She died when you were just three, so you probably don't remember any of her now, but you look just like her. She used to play with you so much when you were a baby, you were always laughing together." Sakura looked confused, and tried to touch the smiling image, but her fingers went right through the picture. "You can't touch, Sakura, only look. Here, here's another one." He found a matching keeper and opened it, this time revealing a kindly looking man with glasses. "I'm sure you remember him, right? Dad?"
Sakura squinted at the picture, her expression conflicted.
"He was the only one left to raise you, after Mom died, but he did a pretty good job with my help. Remember how we used to go on picnics? You loved picnics in the spring, we would eat in the field surrounded by all the wildflowers.
"It was so hard for Dad, after they took you away. We didn't know what happened to you, and it hurt him so much, because you always reminded him of Mom. I couldn't bring him with me when I found you, because it was too dangerous, but he's still at the house waiting for us. One day, maybe, when all this is behind us and it's safe again, we'll go back home. It'll be just like before, except with Yuki – Dad'll love Yuki – and we'll all live together and it'll be nice and quiet… one day…"
The image was getting blurry. Touya thought the photokeeper must be faulty, and he didn't even notice the tears running down his cheeks until Sakura patted them with the handkerchief. She climbed into his lap, like she'd so often done when she was little, and he hugged her close.
This time it wasn't for her comfort. It was for his.
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Disclaimer: I do not own these characters