Haze sipped at the dregs of his morning cup of klunchu and discovered the beverage had grown cold. He scowled in distaste, the grimace making him appear momentarily older and more hardened than he really was, before dumping the bitter remnants into the fire pit by his booted feet.
Across the morning fire, AcRooks ignored him while he fiddled with a small kit mirror as he ran a neer-stone over the night's stubble on his cheeks to remove it.
The third soldier sharing the small campfire was a man named Satuur. While not particularly having a reason, Haze found he didn't care much for Satuur. It wasn't that he wasn't a good soldier, as the Private certainly was. Or that the man couldn't be counted on in combat, as Satuur had proven himself reliable on many occasions when the pulse bolts flew and grunts went into harm's way.
Satuur just struck him as wrong. The man had an air about him that Haze could not define, but it hinted greatly that the soldier should not be fully trusted. Talking with Satuur always left Haze feeling as if the other had some deep secretive agenda that only Satuur knew about.
Not being able to specifically point his finger at any one solid thing for his feeling about Satuur, Haze simply tolerated the man, just as he was at this morning's fire.
As usual, AcRooks simply did not see an obvious cause for finding fault in the older Private, and accused Haze of being overly suspicious of any being the corporal hadn't personally grown-up with, before dismissing his mistrustful view.
Haze found himself frowning at his friend as another subject of their prior debates step into view across the parade ground from their fire.
It was that odd scout, Korr… being tailed by that half-Nebari serving girl.
AcRooks didn't take his recent thoughts about that man seriously either. Which Haze found very annoying, as it was AcRooks's prior obsession with the scout that started Haze pondering him. The other Corporal for some reason had lost interest in Tessen. Haze simply chalked it up to the other man's short span of attention. Still, the scout's oddness now teased his thoughts.
He crossed his arms and took the opportunity to settle back and observe the mercenary further. It also took his mind off of Satuur's presence for a while as a side benefit.
The girl followed behind the tall scout, and though Haze couldn't possibly hear their discussion, it was obvious that the gray skinned female was in a flutter over something the man had done.
She waved her arms exasperatedly as Tessen, plainly paying no heed to her, paused to reach into one shirt pocket and removed something there. He next slid his fighting knife from his belt and cut something off whatever he now held in his hand. He popped the sliver into his mouth and started to chew before returning the knife to his belt and the object to his pocket. The girl seeing this… ceased her arm waving and planted both small fists on her hips and gave him a silent look of grim disproval.
Which Korr also ignored and began walking again. Haze supposed the man had a Yunovee habit; many soldiers smoked or chewed the planet's leaves and it could have been a pug of the dried foliage that the scout had in his pocket. The corporal concluded the server found the habit distasteful and she was letting her ire be known. Haze had spoken to the girl only on a few occasions, and while a homeless refugee, she seemed to come from a higher-class background than he was use to. He could well imagine that someone of her breeding would find a vice, such as smoking or chewing, very repugnant.
She had always been nice the few times they talked, but he knew his social standing must be far below what she would have considered equal, and it always made him nervous. That and she was so beautiful, even when she was dusty and sweaty from labor, that Haze found his tongue suddenly tied and about as articulate as a dead log. So he always found an excuse to keep their interaction at a minimum… least she discover that his social skills were as lacking as his social status also.
He was brave under enemy fire, but he wasn't sure if he could suffer the embarrassment of having her find out he was only a lowly farm boy who had only enlisted in the military as his only chance to make a better life and future for himself.
The girl had immediately followed the mercenary again, this time attempting to place herself directly into his path, and shaking an extended forefinger at him in a scolding manner. Despite her best effort, she was unable to place herself directly in front of the man due to his longer stride, though it still did not stop her from trying.
"I wonder what they are fighting about?" said Satuur idly from across the fire.
Haze glanced over and saw that the Private had picked up on his interest and was watching the scout and the serving girl as well.
"I wouldn't know," was all he would permit the man in answer. He was reluctant to give Satuur any excuse to engage him in conversation if he could avoid it.
At the sound of the exchange between the others, AcRooks looked up from his task, and then in the direction they both were looking. As soon as he realized who they were talking about, he turned and gave Haze a look that said, 'oh, not again', and then returned back to using the stone to scrap the last of his beard stubble away. Haze in turn shot him a sour look, as it was his fault that Haze had contracted his former obsession with Korr.
AcRooks remained oblivious to the reversal in their prior roles.
"She seems very angry with the mercenary," Satuur continued.
"That she does," allowed Haze.
"She's very pretty," the Private said next.
AcRooks barked a short laugh as he put his shaving kit away. "That's the first smart observation I've heard you make, Tuuri," he said lightly.
Satuur frowned in thought. "I don't trust him. You can never trust a merc. What do either of you know about him?"
AcRooks shrugged. "No much myself," he said, "I was curious about him a few weeken ago. But then it got old and boring. So I let it drop…unlike some grunts I know," he added with a side look at Haze.
The other Corporal tightened his arms across his chest slightly. Taking the tease from his friend in serious thought.
"Aye, after you started, I couldn't help but to pay more attention to him. I just think he's strange is all after watching him closer," he reaffirmed. "Not only the way he can appear and disappear without a trace in the bush. It's everything about him. He has that girl, Jaleecee, following around after him like a Jiphound pup… practically living in his bivouac… and he claims he hasn't touched her, let alone made any advances."
"I know… I believe half the camp saw the incident with her brother," added AcRooks. "Poor lad."
Haze grimaced and shook his head slightly.
"That's just not natural either," he went on, "If I had a beautiful girl like that fawning on me. I'd have counted my blessings and proposed a Unity Commitment long ago."
AcRooks raised an eyebrow at the comment.
"Oh ho! I think the young soldier has something special going for the serving maiden," he ragged in a dramatic voice. "If the scout isn't going to step up to the young lady, why don't you throw your helmet into the ring for her hand instead?"
Haze rewarded his partner with a twisted look.
"No really, you can't be more than four cycles older than her. That's an appropriate age spread… unlike my advanced age and experience, which is huge abyss of about six cycles or so older. Otherwise I might have also decided to pursue her myself."
"You're not amusing," Haze told him, to which AcRooks put upon a mock wounded look… and then grinned.
Haze turned back just in time to see the scout and half-Nebari girl disappear into the mess tent.
"I'm only a corporal anyway," he muttered. "A pretty girl like her, even being just a camp server right now, will probably sooner or later catch the eye of a commissioned Officer, and then commit to him. I could never afford to give her the kind of life she deserves on my pay."
"Then why does she go after a mercenary?" Satuur asked.
Neither Haze nor AcRooks glanced at each other as neither had thought of that before the Private had mentioned it. Neither man seemed to have an immediate answer for him.
"And speaking of un-natural… there's the way he went through the punishment for the beating he gave those gunners," the Private went on.
"Satuur…" Haze warned. "He paid his debt in full to the unit. Its against tradition to ever speak of it again." The other man only spat into the fire with obvious disdain.
"Bah! A tradition only deserving of full service men, not frelling mercs! And did you see him? Scars from the neck down! He's trouble that one. No honest man gets that banged up without a reason… and not unless he did something to deserved it."
"Perhaps he just liked to brawl?" put in AcRooks. "Wouldn't be the first time a nurfer became a merc just because they like to fight. And maybe all that scar tissue is the reason he stood so well at the whipping. Perhaps he has nerve damage and simply just couldn't feel it like you or I would? I've also heard rumors of surgery procedures you might be able to get that leave you with the ability to turn off pain at will."
"Whatever the reason, we are not going to sit here and discuss the scout's punishment like three old women," Haze added with slight irritation. "That is over and done with."
"I'm telling you, that Korr cannot be trusted. He's just too lucky on patrols too… and nobody can be that good. I've never heard of anyone who has gone where he has supposed to have gone, and almost never get a scratch. If you ask me, I think some of the stories I've heard are really just tricks. Nobody can just slip unseen into a heavily fortified enemy outpost and take out five sentinels without causing an alarm; they're all set-ups I tell you. Faked to make that scout look good. I believe he's an enemy spy and at some point when the time is right, he's going to lead this entire unit into a ambush to be wiped out."
"Now Haze, I believe, will probably agree with that theory," AcRooks tossed in offhandedly.
The younger Corporal held a hand up as if Satuur's thought interested him.
"You believe that," he asked, "You really believe that?
Satuur took his time slipping at his own metal mug of klunchu, obviously enjoying being the center of attention for the moment, and then finally nodded his head sagely.
"And I'm not the only one. Others have noticed odd things about that scout and are reaching the very same conclusion. I've already spoken with a few, and we have a agreement of sorts to watch Tessen Korr very carefully… and if we see anything suspicious, one of us will put a pulse bolt in his head. Or take care of it some other way."
"You think that would be necessary?" asked AcRooks.
Satuur finished the rest of his mug before replying.
"Let me put it this way. Don't be surprised if that scout doesn't come back from patrol one day and they never find a body. Or if he has an unfortunate 'accident'. You both would do just as well to watch out for yourselves, and don't hesitate to kill the bastard on your own if you even think he's up to something. A number of us are advising others to be on the watch also, and to do the very same thing if they notice anything suspicious with the scout. A grunt's survival and the security of the unit is the priority out in the bush or the battlefield. No one at Command is going to ask too many questions over a missing or dead merc… and you just might save the unit and your own eema if you act in time."
Haze looked at Satuur and his estimate for the man raised some – not much, but some. If the Private and some others had an uneasy feeling about the scout too, then Haze considered he himself was on to something.
While only a Private, Satuur was several cycles older than even AcRooks and had supposedly been a soldier all his adult life – so that had to count for something when it came to reading other men on the battlefield.
"So you think it will come to that?" Haze found himself asking. "Korr will at some point betray us, and one of us will have to kill him?"
Satuur surprised him by breaking into a knowing smile.
"I've been a soldier long enough, Corporal… to say I'm sure of it."
Abruptly with that smile, Haze had that old feeling that there was something about this man that shouldn't be trusted either.
But he couldn't find much in fault with Satuur's assessment about the scout at the moment… especially when Haze himself had been harboring his own concerns about the mercenary for so long.
It still sat ill with Haze though the way Satuur settle back with a hint of smugness on his face, as if he'd accomplished something far more than just getting them to consider his viewpoints.
D'argo paced the length of the rogue Shrikes' common room with his long strides. His chest wound still ached but he ignored the twinges in his ever-growing impatience. He was alone, the youngest of the ex-Enforcers living in the underground bunker having departed half-an-arn ago on some covert errand, after informing him that Istrish was on her way there with news of his friends' possible whereabouts.
Something had the Shrikes stirred up, as they had never been out all at the same time during his stay with them. The youthful member had known nothing more of his leader's news, and refused to tell him what the other ex-assassins were up to despite his half-hearted threats.
The big Luxan issued a growl from deep in his lungs that caused his injury to respond with more sharp pain. It only served to make him angrier.
He was contemplating smashing the makeshift table in the center of the room to pieces, when a curtain stirred and Istrish finally appeared.
"What have you learned?" he demanded sharply in way of greeting for the Sykaran woman.
"And a good day to you too, Ka' Dargo," she said in laconic response. The woman looked tired, and it was obvious that she had been up a good part of the night before. The warrior found that at the moment, he couldn't care much about her exhaustion. Only word about his friends mattered to him after waiting so long.
"Tell me what you know," he said in a low growl.
Istrish sighed and removed her long coat. She had grown use to the Luxan's gruff ways and knew he wouldn't settle down until he got what he wanted. It was one of the qualities she had also grown to like about him over time.
"Sit down and I will tell you. It's been a long night and I don't need you prowling about the room like a Zant-tiger on the hunt."
D'argo surprised her and only grunted once before settling his large frame into a seat opposite her, and then said more civilly, "Apologizes, the wait is agonizing. Please tell what you have learned."
"Its not all good, the news is presently vague and we are still gathering information," she began. "We have learned that the Leviathan carrying your friends has been sequestered in Hynerian space. That is why we could not find her for so long. The empire is in a state of flux from a continuing upheaval of its power structure."
"Rygel is retaking his throne," D'argo supplied, and then cursed to himself. "Why the hezmana didn't I think of that? He was planning to return before the war started. I didn't think he'd be able to accomplish it so soon, but I should have known the slug better to think he'd wait long."
"The Hynerian boarders are closed for the most part, so news of the changing climate has been hard to filter through to the rest of the Territories," the female Shrike added.
"So they're there on Hynerian," D'argo concluded. "All we have to do is go there then?"
Istrish shook her head. "That is the not so good news I spoke of. Our sources have indicated that your friends and the Leviathan have left Hynerian controlled space and have reentered the Territories over a weeken ago."
"Let me guess, and you don't know where they are now."
"No. Not at the moment," she told him with a small shake of her head. A hint in her tone also told him there was something more.
D'argo frowned deeply.
"Now you're going to tell me the really bad news, aren't you?" he continued.
She nodded. "We know this next part only because we still have a few sources inside a couple of the minor Syndicate Houses. Some of them have initiated plans to capture your friend, John Crichton… believing that he has plans for a massive wormhole weapon in his possession. The Syndicate wants the weapon for its own use. They are now aware that he is traveling outside Hynerian space and are putting their plan for his apprehension into action."
"Frell!" D'argo hissed. "We have to find them before the Syndicate does." He thought a few microts and then said; "I had thought you said that common knowledge was that John no longer had the wormhole secrets in his head. That the Ancient's removed it after he demonstrated the potential destructiveness of the technology to both sides."
"So is the official story from the Imperium and Peacekeeper Command, yes… but the Black Syndicate doesn't believe it. They think he still has the secrets… or that it can still be extracted from his brain whether he remembers it or not," Istrish replied. "Even if he doesn't still have the knowledge, once he's in Syndicate possession they can claim they did recover it, and hold the rest of the Territories for ransom. No one would take a chance to defy them. Everyone would be at their mercy and there would be no stopping the Syndicate after that."
"Damn! Frelled if he does still have it and still frelled if he doesn't," the Luxan spat.
"That's about the size of it," Istrish agreed. "We cannot let them find this Crichton."
"I agree," rumbled the warrior. "We must leave immediately… as soon as we have even the slightest idea where Moya is heading."
The ex-assassin nodded. "The others are out now preparing for our departure and we are gathering the other cells. We have several people waiting to hear from our agents inside the Syndicate for word that they have found your friend. Others are waiting at our shuttle to leave the planet at a moment's notice. Our only hope is to beat the Syndicate forces to where Crichton is at, once we have a location."
Dargo grunted in thought.
"We'll need something faster and better armed than a shuttle. We'll need a warship to go up against those bastards."
"A shuttle is all we have," Istrish protested. "And we are lucky to have that."
"Can you get me to a broad band space transceiver?" the warrior asked next.
The female Shrike blinked in confusion.
"There is one at the commerce port, but to use it would reveal our presence here to the Syndicate," she explained to him. "You can be sure they will have people monitoring all communication networks, not only for a hint of where the rogue Shrike forces are located, but also for any useful information carelessly broadcast over open channels."
"Then you'll have to abandon your hideout here," D'argo said. "That wouldn't matter anyway, we'll be long gone before the Syndicate can find this place. And I know just were to get us a warship. Assemble all of your people that you can."
"Where will you get this ship?" Istrish asked with growing amazement at the big Luxan.
"My son, Jothee, has one that will do just fine," he replied with a growing grin.
Chiana knocked back the last in a long line of Raslek drinks and slammed the empty glass down on the table to join a horde of like-wise empty glassware. She stifled a belch and signaled the waitress for another round.
"Girl, you better slow down," warned Raydoon from the opposite side of the round table.
Chiana dismissed the counsel with one casual wave. A server placed another drink in front of her and she tossed a credit chip onto her tray.
"Frell it and blotch it!" she quipped as she saluted with the new glass. "I feel like relaxing a little tonight."
The humanoid man frowned gravely.
"Considering your current employer, there's such a thing as relaxing too much."
The Nebari shot him a mischievous look. "Worried that I'm gonna frell it up?" she asked.
"Considering that I vouched for you to Saifree Madden… yes. My eema is on the line too," Raydoon replied seriously.
"Worry not, Raymie," Chiana said with one up-raised finger. "I do my best planning when I'm drinking. And right now… I really need time to plan… and drink."
Raydoon reached across the table, his hand weaving a way through the glass obstacle course Chiana had amassed before her, to take her hand in his.
"I'm also worried about you, Chiana," he said lowly. "I just don't want you getting into trouble taking on more than you can handle."
"Aw… that's sweet, Raymie," the gray girl started out. She even padded his hand for a few microts, before firmly removing it from atop her own hand. "But I'm a big girl and can take care of myself," she continued, her eyes unexpectedly clearing and not so intoxicated anymore, turning hard just a microt later. "I don't need another big brother watching over me." This last was delivered in such a dead, emotionless tone that Raydoon found himself involuntarily withdrawing his hand away from the girl's with a slight shiver.
Before the man could think of something else more convincing to add to his discussion with the Nebari, a large shadow darkened their table. He looked up, but the figure was backlit by the lighting in the refreshment house and he couldn't discern the person's features for the moment.
Chiana on the other hand had no problem realizing whom the shadow belonged to.
"Well, if it isn't my old dancing partner… Stolie," she said without looking up. "Did your master let you off the leash to go play with the other drones tonight?"
Raydoon swallowed hard as he realized that it indeed was Madden's strong man. The cold evil grin that broke out on Chiana's lips at the huge man's presence made Raydoon even more apprehensive.
"Tralk," Stolie growled lowly. "Mr. Madden would have a report from you about your progress."
Chiana leaned back in her seat and spread her arms out wide along the backrest, obviously enjoying the confrontation, much to Raydoon's growing dread.
"Then old Saifree can come ask me his self," she told the big thug. "I told him I would contact him when I was ready. I'm not ready… and I don't report to the hired help."
"Don't frell with me, bitch. You'll do what I say, when I say. There's a certain order in things when you work for Saifree Madden… and you're nowhere near the top in that sequence," Stolie spat, and placing both huge meaty hands on the table leaned down closer to her. "And I haven't forgotten what you did to me."
The Nebari girl just smiled wickedly at the reminder.
"Stolie… Molie… Bolie," she said in a mocking singsong. "Are you still grised about your mivonks? Or still just amazed… that I managed to hit something so very small?"
Seeing the strong-arm man's face flare bright red in outrage at the gray girl's insult, Raydoon tried to head off what he knew was coming.
"Perhaps we should…" was all he managed to get out.
Stolie nearly roar in fury and reached forward with one brawny hand to snare the girl around the throat.
She may not have looked it, but Chiana was ready. And instead of attempting to move out of reach, she surprised the thug by remaining seated. In response she simply batted the reaching limb aside, sending the man slightly off balance.
Reaching up with her other hand she seized Stolie by the hair at the back of his head in a tight grip. The blocking hand came back in and she did something with her wrist, and immediately there was a long blade in that hand, it's point just a few hair breaths away from Stolie's left eye.
The big man froze as he literally saw his predicament.
Chiana gave him a moment to reflect on the situation, and then smiled sickly at him.
"Now Stolie, my dear," she said sweetly, " I know Madden didn't send you here tonight. You just here to flex your muscle… but you should know, I'm the type of girl that will snap it off," She slowly moved the knifepoint from the area of his eyes until it rested on the cheek below it. Stolie shivered as he felt the ceramic blade point prick his skin, and the thief tightened her hold on his hair. "Or maybe it's that you just can't stay away from me, I get that from males a lot… but you really shouldn't frell with a girl when she has more important work to do."
Stolie made as if to say something, but Chiana only pushed the tip of the knife further into his cheek, giving it a little twist until a rivulet of blood started to flow down to the corner of his mouth. "Ah, ah, ah! I wasn't giving you permission to talk," she instructed.
The thug got the message and didn't attempt to speak further.
"Smart boy," Chiana purred. "Wouldn't want to mess up those good… well, looks that only your mother could love now, would we?"
Stolie only glared at her in answer.
"Good. See? You can learn," she said. "Now, Raymie… be so kind as to reach over and get his gun for me. Wouldn't want to have anymore misunderstandings tonight."
"Uh… maybe… we should…" Raydoon stammered.
"Get his gun!" Chiana insisted more strongly. Knowing there was no sense in arguing with the gray girl. Raydoon reach across with an apologetic look and took possession of Stolie's pistol.
"There, now we're all friendly-like," said Chiana, once the weapon was safely removed.
"Maybe we should just let this go before it goes too far?" Raydoon suggested hopelessly.
Chiana turned slightly to look at him. "Oh no… my love, Stolie, and I still have to have a discussion about his earlier behavior. Yes, we do. We can't let him wander about with no sense of manners now, can we?"
She emphasized her words with sharp tugs on the man's hair, which brought single tears to the corners of his eyes.
"Now, what was it you called me before? Oh yes, it was tralk, wasn't it?"
Raydoon shook his head and covered his eyes, afraid to find out actually what the gray woman was going to do to the thug.
"What did I say my name was?" she asked. When Stolie refused to answer the first time, she twisted the knife once more, making the man wince. "I'm waiting," she continued, followed by another twist of the blade. "Come on, surely a smart trained Kigzit Rat like you can remember my name?" This time Stolie grunted in pain.
"Pixie! You said to call you, Pixie!" he forced out.
"There… was that so hard to remember, lover?" she asked with an unhinged smile.
Keeping her knife in place and the hold on his hair, she forced him a little closer. Then she slowly licked the right side of his face from chin to forehead. It might have almost been seductive, if not for the cold unfeeling glint in her dark eyes. Raydoon suddenly had the image of a predator tasting its prey, as he sat helplessly by.
"Now run along before I really have to punish you," she said, the mock playfulness now absent from her tone. To Raydoon it sounded like her voice was coming from a grave, it also held the hint of barely concealed violence under it. The cold look in Chiana's dark eyes gave the male thief the impression that the Nebari would enjoy killing the big thug if given the chance or motive.
She released her hold on Stolie's hair, while somehow her booted foot had gotten between them and she used it to thrust the big man away from her.
Stolie staggered backwards a few steps before managing to catch himself, one hand automatically wiping Chiana's spittle from the side of his face, before switching over to the other side to wipe away the blood running down his cheek from the knife prick. For a moment he looked like he was deciding on if he should attack her again.
But Chiana's cold feral smirk made it look as if she were daring him to do just that.
He wisely chose not to follow his desire for vengeance, as she still casually held the strange big knife in one hand.
"You're frelling insane," was all he managed to come out with as he backed away.
The girl tilted her head and her mirthless grin widened for him.
"You have no frelling idea, bucko," she countered, slipping in one of Crichton's famous nicknames.
Stolie looked puzzled by the strange nickname for a few microts, as if not sure if it were meant as an insult or not, but then turned and stormed away.
Chiana and Raydoon watched as the strong-arm man found the exit and left the refreshment house. Raydoon turned to regard his companion as she did something with her hand again and the big knife folded up somehow and disappeared up her shirtsleeve in an eye-blink.
Raydoon had been hoping to talk the attractive thief into spending the night with him, but now he was having serious second thoughts. He was beginning to realize there was something dark and possibly twisted beneath her beautiful exterior, something very far beyond the usual insensitivity and narcissism of the ordinary criminals and thieves that inhabited his everyday world. The girl was turning out to be much too unpredictable for his comfort range… and unpredictable was the same as very dangerous.
Chiana turned and caught him looking at her in deep thought. She lifted an single eyebrow as if to ask "what?" The male thief had the idea that the Nebari knew what he had been thinking as one corner of her black satin lips jerked upward in an amused tick. The amusement didn't travel to her eyes however; they remained nearly dead dark pools where not even light seemed to escape.
He had originally helped the girl with her contacts, in the hope that it might lead to something of the romantic nature between them in the near future. Those hopes were wisely fleeting from his thoughts the more time he spent in the gray-skinned female's company. Somehow he found himself beginning to categorize the woman as 'damage-goods' the longer he observed her. And he meant damaged-goods, as like a pulse pistol with a cracked Chakan magazine in the well, both the gun and this girl were equally deadly to anyone near them.
Raydoon unconsciously settled back further in his chair, as if to put more room between them.
"He's right," he found himself saying. "You are crazy."
Chiana bit her lip for a moment as if thinking the comment over.
Finally she simply said, "Shut up and drink."
She lifted her own glass and found it had become empty again, though she couldn't recall having finished it. So she signaled another waitress for a refill. One finally headed over to their table, having obviously been ignoring the drama being played out there just a few microts ago like the rest of the patrons in the tavern. She ordered and sat back to wait, turning over Raydoon's last comment in her mind.
She was slipping, becoming more reckless and uncaring, she knew. Almost as if she had caught whatever madness had affected Berret and took his mind. The Shrike was at least at rest now, she thought. Death had a way of relieving all of one's cares. She was the unlucky one; she still lived with the pain, everyday, with no ending of it in sight.
Her thoughts ran through and reminded her of all she'd lost, all she'd never really had, just like a never-ending data loop. Not even the seemly endless flow of drink stopped the unbidden images now.
No family, no one like Nerri to watch over her, or John to care for her like he had always done for Aeryn – no one to make the grand selfless sacrifices the human made for everyone he cared for. No guide, no source of inner strength and enlightenment – Zhaan gone for so long now, no longer any shelter in her care when things became confusing. No love, not one to hold her – Dargo, dead on some Scarran-held planet. Buying their freedom with his last few moments of life. It would have been better if he had let her stay to die right there with him.
No one left to see what she was inside, the true person in her soul. To be loved for her inner light and not her body alone – Berret so strangely innocent in the beginning, and then cruelly returned to her broken. Part of her shameful and guilty when she considers he might truly be better off dead now… and at the same time cursing him, cursing them all really, because she was left to bear it all and carry on alone.
She was tired, always so tired. How much could one person be meant too lose before her mind also left her… running from the constant pain life had become.
She found she didn't care anymore, just couldn't find a way for herself to care anymore. She was well aware that she in fact, welcomed the madness with open arms.
Maybe it would set her free.