Together

I can't believe I'm doing this. I straightened up, realizing that my back was bent forward like a beaten animal. But Father would.  I told myself. Father would.

Red-brown earthen walls seemed heavy and dark around us—two Poleepkwa and one slim, determined human facing a single computer screen. I stared down at my clenched hands in my lap as the microphone was switched on, the speakers crackled to life. Dayna’s shabby wooden chair creaked as she settled in beside me. Eric stood at our backs, seeming as quiet and strong as the wooden supports that kept our tunnels from collapsing.  

Father made a deal with the MNU man who burned Poleepkwan children and joked about popcorn. Even my breath felt restrained, thick. With the man who betrayed him a half dozen times over before growing a spine...and becoming a Poleepkwa. “You go home, I get fixed.” But he did it to rescue our people. I laid a hand flat on the splintered wooden desk,  fingers splayed as though I held a peace offering; but fingertips clenched downwards as though I prepared to release it to unworthy hands.  People don’t get what they deserve, or deserve what they get…right, Father? You'd understand why we have to negotiate, not punish. 

The audio connection was made, yet suddenly no one could find a voice. Kurt broke the silence, his casual human tone tinged with mild annoyance. “Is there a reason why you've contacted me, or are you just here to waste time?”

Dayna leaned against her makeshift desk, delicate fingers interlacing. “Kurt, we want to make a deal with you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” I nearly spat out the word, clenching my jaws so tight they felt ready to splinter and crack. “And if you watch the news, you should take it.”

“What 'deal' do you have in mind?” I could almost hear the bored smile in his voice.

“Unless you've been living under a rock,” Dayna spoke calmly, yet her tense fingertips tapped against each other. “You know the UIO is pressuring South Africa to drop MNU's contract and hand it over to Tanukashi, right?”

He made a noncommittal noise. “Of course.”

“You take a US job with Tanukashi.” She blinked once, forming her soft, round features into a neutral mask. “Hand over Nick, and a list with the names of any known torturers and traffickers. In return, you won’t be prosecuted when the takeover happens. It may just be for 'animal cruelty,' but your family would know what you've done. We have you on video.” Her words were direct, yet with a tone so polite I stared at her in surprise.

Nearly a minute passed, marked only by Kurt’s steady breathing. His voice seemed thoughtful. “A job at Tanukashi. That wouldn't make my superiors very happy.”

 “What's more important?” Dayna raised a slender brown eyebrow. “Your superiors or the 'blissful ignorance' of your family?”

Kurt chuckled a bit, but didn’t sound pleased. “Trust me, if my superiors caught wind of this, it wouldn't be a question of bliss—“

“Trust me, they'll have more important things to worry about.” I broke in. I spoke as though holding my voice back on a straining leash. “They can't really reach you in the States. That’s where our bases are, remember?” My clicking voice dripped with sarcasm. “Look, I'd love to get you in trouble with them. But Nick is more important.” Michael, I thought to myself. I'm so sorry. I just can't let them have Nick. I can't.

“Touching.” Kurt said dryly. He paused. “It would be tough, getting your friend out of the interrogation compound.” 

Eric made a rude, disgusted grunt. “Why are you talking to him? It’s obviously not going to get us anywhere.” I turned to see his eyes closed, mouth-tentacles drooping.

Dayna brushed back a strand of her straight chestnut hair, eyes shining with determination. “If his priorities are straight, it will get us to a lot of places.”

“So much for all his, 'I do this for my family.'” I clicked sharply.

“If you stopped arguing for a few moments,” Kurt sighed. “I would be able to say that I'll take the deal.”

Excitement widened her round blue eyes even further, astonished petal-pink lips nearly agape. Her voice waved as she struggled to keep it level. “R-really?” I grinned, but clamped my hands over my mouth.

“Yes. If it helps my family...” Kurt coughed. “It's worth it.” His voice became flat, stoic. “It will be difficult, but I'll get him out of there.”

“Kurt, if you provide us with what we want,” Dayna nodded, her rosy lips curving into a slight smile. “Then we'll make sure nothing bad happens.”

“You better.” Kurt’s tone darkened appreciably. “MNU doesn't take kindly to people walking out on them, never mind breaking their prisoners out of detainment.”

“I don't think they'll be that mad. People leave jobs all the time and they don't have to know where you're going, right?” She chuckled, quiet confidence in every line of her shoulders.

Eric’s harsh clicks broke in. “Weren't you already offered asylum?”

Kurt paused, and then sounded slightly uneasy. “Yes. MNU wasn't in such a...well; let's just say that things are changing a bit, as you said.” He stopped, his chair making a shifting sound as though he struggled in vain for comfort. “Sherry, I know you've gloating over this. You might as well speak.”

“I wasn't gloating.” I breathed slowly. “This…it's not exactly success.” My chest smoldered at the thought of rewarding this man, but seemed to incinerate itself at the idea of leaving anyone—particularly my rescuer, my friend—in his hands. “How...how is Nick?”

“Depends on what you mean.” Kurt said calmly.

His casual indifference jabbed at me like a physical blow. I ground my fists against the splintered crate-desk before me as though it were a poor imitation of his face. “If you think you can return him dead, dying, or crippled, and get us to fill our end of the bargain...” I hissed. “We won't.” 

Kurt spoke as though referring to something slightly disgusting, but inconsequential. “He's not dead yet.”  

“I'd like to return the favor, if he kills him.” Eric’s quiet voice was nearly a growl.

“Are you…” Dayna paused for only an instant. “Leading the interrogation?”

“Yes.”

“The interrogation is over, Kurt.” I snapped. “Stop hurting him. Just figure out how to get him out, or your family...”

His tone hardened. “Don't continue that sentence.”

I gave a slight smirk, my mouth-tentacles curving upwards. “I was going to say, 'finds out.' But all right.”

Kurt sighed. “I should be able to get Nick to you in the next couple of days.”

“Tomorrow.” I clicked.

“Eh, not that small of a timeframe.” Dayna shook her head. “Just keep us constantly updated. Remember, no Nick, and no guarantee of that lovely Tanukashi job and of your family not knowing the things that have gone on. I hate to rub this in your face constantly, but if it's what we have to do then so be it.”

“Understandable. I'll contact Sherry when I've got him.”

“Contact us both.” She spoke firmly, as though concluding an ordinary business deal. “Come alone, and me and Sherry will meet you there. Eric will drive the truck. We'll give you the general area and give you the co-ordinates at the last minute. Also don't forget that list you promised—that's part of our deal too.”

“I won't forget.” He shut off the audio feed.

Dayna addressed the microphone that could no longer hear her, cocking her head to the side with a cheerful smile. “Have a fantastic day!”

I let myself laugh and release a deep, heavy sigh of relief.

She turned to face me, her pale freckled brow furrowing. “You know, I think if this MNU business and the stuff with the Poleepkwa never happened, he'd have been a pretty all right guy.”

“Are you serious?” My eyes widened, antennae swishing in an incredulous gesture. “He's tortured children, he...”

She scratched at her arms—each fingernail digging into the opposite forearm as her face tensed with nervousness. “Well, if people and Poleepkwa got along from the beginning and they had equal rights, he would have been one of those people that works really hard to keep his family happy.” She shrugged. “Eh, I don't know. Maybe I'm weird.”

 

Comprehension halted my breath for a moment. Her arms…dotted with fading scars and coin-sized scabs like cigar burns. Among our people it might be a sign of factory conditions or, rarely, surviving brutal experiments. For Dayna—whatever she had survived, this was how she handled it. It was a nervous, injurious, scratching habit, like my own obsessive working and refusing to sleep. Whatever she said, I couldn’t be angry with her.

 

“Maybe you are.” I smiled slightly, angling my head down and wide eyes upward in a way that humans seemed to find adorable. “But you're in good company.”

 

Dayna returned my smile, her shoulders visibly unclenching. “But I do know that what he's done is absolutely wrong, and I can't like him at all. It just happens we both have uses for each other. I hate to see the asshole get away with it, but...” She bit her lip.

 

“I know.” I glanced downward at the dirt. “Nick...he's worth it. He's worth more than Kurt, whether Kurt's an asshole or a monster or...” I paused, shaking my head. It doesn’t matter now. I told myself. Don’t dwell on it. “I'm sorry, never mind. I just hope Nick's okay, as okay as he can be.”

 

“Don't apologize, I understand.” She rested a slender white hand on my hard-plated shoulder. “And I hope he's okay too.”

 

“Now,” I took three deep, calming breaths and laid my hand atop hers, squeezing it softly. “I guess we wait.”

 

 

 

I wish I could say that I waited patiently; that Eric, Sue, the Elder and I managed the tent schools well enough on our own. I told the others that I knew enough of our own history to help teach it, but teaching itself was foreign to me. My stomach tightened as I stepped into the barrel-shaped tent that would be our hidden classroom for the night, but we took precautions this time. Jared and three of his friends stood in the darkness outside, ready to whistle at the first sight of guards and send us scattering in an instant.

 

Still, I faltered when it came my turn to address the wide-eyed cluster of Poleepkwan children. "Can one of you…” I coughed, mandibles twitching uncertainly. “Tell me where our people are from?"

 

"Here." A little one with forest-green plates pointed at the dirt floor beneath her.

 

I nodded. “You were hatched here, yes. But if we're from here, why do they call us aliens?”

 

She paused, her voice growing tentative. "Because we're different. That's what an alien is, right?" 

 

“We are different—“

 

“And...and that's why MNU keeps us away. From the humans. We're different.” Her back straightened, tone gaining confidence. “'Keeping humans safe by keeping non-humans separate.’”

 

“Different isn't a reason to keep someone away.” I shook my head, antennae flicking with earnestness. “Different doesn't mean dangerous. Have you ever hurt a human?”

 

"...no.” She narrowed her eyes. “But...there are others who do..."

 

“Yes. Including humans themselves. They fight in gangs, they shoot each other, and that doesn’t mean they should all be kept in a camp—“

 

An older child with tan, red-dappled plates nodded; his green eyes downcast. "So...that's why."

“Why what?”

 

He fidgeted, holding his hands out slightly. "Well...some do, so...how can you tell who else will? My parent--" He swallowed, then continued in a low voice. "My parent always said to keep away from every human. Just be careful with everyone...you don't know who's going to hurt you."

 

I squared my shoulders, aiming my words and gaze at each of the dozen or so children before me. “Yes, you do. There is a way to know who's going to hurt you—by what they've done. The humans that you've met here are the worst of their species, because it's their job to be. They are the ones who've convinced the others that we're all dangerous, from the wisest Elder to the smallest child like you. But outside of these fences there are others, humans who can look past the differences.”

 

His eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"

 

I paused, and then tapped the side of my head. “Because I've seen things MNU doesn't want any of us to see. Both us and humans have technology that shows us what this world is like outside of these fences, and what the universe is like beyond this world.”

 

The one with forest-green plates spoke again. “It's cold and black, isn't it? Why would you want to go there?”

 

My mouth-tentacles curved upward a little. “Are the stars cold and black?”

 

“Well...no.” She gazed down at the dirt, pushing a pebble around with a thin, pointed finger. “But they're so tiny...”

 

I smiled. “They only look tiny from here. They can be as big as the sun, and some are bigger.” 

 

Her eyes widened, antennae swishing with confusion. “The sun is small too. It's hot and bright, but it's only...” She formed a circle with her hands. “This big. Maybe a little bigger...” Her thin fingers spread further apart. “Like that.”

 

I shook my head, feeling like a poor imitation of our distant Professor. Would he laugh at me, if he saw me now? “It doesn't matter, really, how big it is. The sun is bright and warm, and the universe is full of warm, bright suns like it. Some of these suns have planets—a few like this one, most of them not like it at all. And one of those planets is ours—our homeworld, where there is no one who will hurt us or keep us behind barbed-wire fences.”

 

The red-dappled boy looked at me as though I were spouting nonsense. “Well…yeah. There's nobody there.”

 

“Who told you that?”

 

“My teacher.”

 

I folded my tense hands together. “The teachers have told you a lot of things. The teachers won't tell you the truth—that we aren't dangerous Prawns, we're no more dangerous than the humans themselves. That we are capable of great things...that home is alive and waiting for us. That we are heirs to the universe.”

 

I gestured upwards, towards the sky. “They tell you our homeworld was wiped out by a disease and that our mothership wasn't ours, even though we're the only ones able to operate it. And they'll tell you that the one who took it back to our homeworld was only escaping this place, not getting help. But I know that home is alive, and that he is coming back to take us all to a world of freedom. That when he comes back, anyone who wishes to explore those stars and other worlds will be able to. I know this is true. Because Christopher Johnson, who left for our homeworld, is my Father.”

 

I would like to say that this convinced everyone, but I know that it wasn’t our most successful class. Without showing the children our forbidden technology, how does one truly disprove the story that MNU has told them a thousand times, emphasized with prods and fists?

 

I’d heard from a dozen children, recited like a tedious recipe. "Our planet was wiped out by the red sickness. Only about a million Prawns survived, but a wise, powerful, advanced species found us and let us work for them on their spaceship. That worked out fine for a while, but we infected them too. When they all died we didn't know how to operate the ship, so we wound up shipwrecked and starving above Earth. We would have all starved to death, except Multinational United took care of us."

 

When the class ended and our small group returned to the tunnels, my neck-folds widened in a sigh of relief. No guards, no Douglas…safe now. Then the moist, metallic scent of bile made me stagger a step back and run to Akra’s alcove.

 

"Elder,” I stepped in to find him lying on his side. His mouth-tentacles seemed to be soaked in blood and other, darker fluids. “Are you…” I swallowed hard, wiping them away with a threadbare rag. “All right?"

 

I stood within arm’s reach, but his eyes seemed glazed and dim, unable to recognize me. "Little one." He blinked and reached out a hand, grabbing for a moment at the air before I took his hand in mine. “No, Nikte. Don't try to run the stabilizer control by yourself..."

 

"Akra? I don't know what you...oh." I remembered his story, his lost child as I laid a gentle hand on his strong, dark neck. "I'm not Nikte. I'm Sherry. You're not dreaming..." Breath left me as I felt the skin between his shell-plates; hot and waxen to the touch.

 

"Sherry..." He gave a soft smile, eyes gazing at nothing in the distance. "She is as much my child as I could ever ask for. I try to teach her..."

 

I grabbed a wet cloth and sponged down his face. “No, Elder, it's me.” 

 

“Yes, there you are.” He shook his head as though attempting to clear it of detritus. “Have you been practicing your centering exercises? Our lives...this world is full of chaos. But when we let the chaos be around us, instead of be us, then we can find a measure of peace." He winced, gripping at his lower abdomen.

 

My hand followed his and I gasped. Something was swollen, pushing against the plates just above his sub-arms. "Ah! Your illness, you..." My mind raced as I rummaged through a box beside his makeshift bed. My understanding of anatomy, human or Poleepkwan, was next to none. It’s not his stomach…his liver? I handed him two thick white capsules. “Here, take these for the pain.” 

 

“It's so...dark.” He blinked, glancing about as he swallowed them.

 

"Yes, Elder. Now lay down and rest, you’re not well…“

 

Dayna’s round, eager countenance caught my eye as she stepped through the earthen doorway. “Nick.” She breathed as Akra’s exhausted eyes closed, his ragged breathing assumed the even pattern of sleep. “Kurt got him out. It’s time to go.”

 

 

A piece of paper, tied down in a fierce wind, twisting about. In his silence, Eric had known me. He'd been right. Yet as we drove through the moonless desert night, windows open only the balmy breeze that rushed past our faces, even that string seemed to be gone.

 

I was a kite lost to the wind, clinging to the sticky leather bench seat of Dayna's van so that I did not drift through the open window and dissipate into the gentle desert twilight. The Elder was fading, I couldn't deny it. Akra was slipping from my hands like mist; and my silent, saving Eric had cosigned himself to his life here in whatever this District—Awshitz, Sanctuary Park, the Stain—became. Ryan was a continent away with our "Professor..." they met, they spoke, and they fought for our people in distant Tokyo where we had never been seen. And in my heart I was alone. Alone, as our people should never be...With the hive mind, I thought, it's like a parent is always there. Fear can't touch you, because it's like the hug that never ends.

 

I shook my head angrily. 2.5 million Poleepkwa depended on our actions, our hope—yet at this instant I could only see the glare of headlights that meant an approaching MNU cassiper...that meant Kurt approached with Nick. Nick, my friend...the broken hands that waited to take my own.

 

The white armored truck stopped a few meters before us, lit only by the dimming sky and our own headlights that shone at each other like boxers squaring to fight. There was more than enough light for me to recognize the face I'd never seen in person as he opened the high, thick driver's side door and stepped out, black boots sinking in to the desert sand.

 

Kurt. Waves of loose, tousled brown hair hung past his ears, not quite brushing his bloodstained shirt collar. It seemed that his face could only be casual--the brown shadow of a beard stubble that lined his face did not seem decrepit, only a careless accent to his strong jaw and clear, unlined countenance. I followed Dayna as she stepped out of our own van, my small four-toed feet sinking into sand that still held the heat of this South African autumn sun. We’d agreed that Eric would wait in the van, ARC gun at the ready in case Kurt decided to surprise us.

 

In my mind that man had grown to something taller, more sinister, some towering human thing that would greet me with a proud laugh and a spinning drill. Yet his posture was loose and relaxed, his tone matter-of-fact as his eyes moved from my face to Dayna's and back again. "Hello." He said calmly.

 

My fists clenched. "Let us see him." Even now, with my legs healed, I couldn't have crossed the distance between us in a single step. If not for Nick, I would have tried.

 

Kurt's tone seemed guarded, but without anger. "Not until you carry out your end of the deal."

 

"We aren't doing anything until we see Nick." Dayna crossed her slender, scarred arms over her chest, feet planted firmly apart in the sand.

 

He sighed. "On another day I'd let us be at an impasse, but fine."

 

"On another day," I mimicked his words. "I'd rip your throat out in front of your children, and we still wouldn't be even. So just let my friend go, you son of a—"

 

He tensed slightly at the mention of his children, but flashed me the proud half-smile that had been his trademark while murdering eight Poleepkwan refugees. "You'd have to jump."

 

He moved warily, always facing us, as he went around to open the back of the truck. They both seemed only shadows, yet I could see him yank Nick out by pulling on a long chain about his neck, a chain that reached down to cuff his wrists behind his narrow, tube-like Poleepkwan waist. I felt a dim flash of surprise—usually they only bound us with plastic zip-tie cuffs. Apparently the "dangerous Prawn" who'd snapped Douglas' neck warranted some extra restraint. 

 

"Come on." Kurt commanded, pulling my stumbling friend through the shadows behind him. He faced us, his small human eyes like two hard stones. "He's here. Now where's your end of the deal?"

 

Dayna stepped a few paces forward, producing an envelope from the back pocket of her tattered jeans and handing it to him. "Here are your papers. And four tickets to the US for you and your family."

 

He opened the envelope, quickly checking that its contents were genuine before handing her a packet of papers in return—the promised names, along with what they had done. "All right."

 

"When you get there go to the Tanukashi office and tell them who you are." Her voice seemed the very epitome of sensible; soft and direct. "I've informed them to be expecting you." Kurt gave a slight nod.

 

"Aw, you don't want me to come along?" Nick clicked in a strong, sarcastic voice. He stepped forward on unsteady legs, though he was still half in the shadows behind his human jailor, his deliverer. "I'd love to meet the family" 

 

"Shut it and walk." Kurt turned about and pulled on the chain, then shoved him forward--towards me, and finally into the full glare of the headlights.

 

"Nick!" I ran towards him, fairly screaming out his name. Indomitable young eyes shone in a face that had been ground into suffering, a body chewed on by death.

 

He was still eighteen. Just as I'd still been eight—now almost nine, though I rarely cared to think of it—after a year of being stuffed in a tiny box. Youth still defined Nick's tortured body. My senses recoiled, lower antennae seeming to shrink at the odor of infection that emanated from his wounds. For an instant I could only focus on what hadn't changed. His dark gray-black plating was still marked with blue swirls; solid paint at the center of his chest and spirals winding about his torso and weaving to accent his limbs, face and neck. Yet the blue was discolored with red-brown blood, covering him as though he'd been showered with it.

 

He still stood just less than six and a half feet...a height that seemed reduced, as one antennae had been hacked in half. The softer, ashen skin between his shell-plates was marked with dozens of two-pronged burns. Every torturer, every MNU grunt knows to jab his cattle prod at those sensitive tissues to make us scream and beg. Yet the tiny sub-arms at the base of his torso seemed by far the worst...barely recognizable for what they had been. Each centimeter of skin had been sliced at; cut and dissected until only twitching shreds remained. 

 

Kurt must have made some hasty repairs to his captive. Nick's fresher lacerations did not bleed, and white bandages covered the three gunshot wounds Douglas had given him--a bullet in each leg and one in his arm, cracking his shell-plates but not rendering my friend unable to take that monster's life...or unable to step towards me now and smile as our eyes met, though he broke into a fit of coughing and fell to his knees. His chains clinked together as he cleared his lungs, shaking with the effort.

 

"Hiya, Sherry. Been awhile huh?" Nick grinned up at me, our eyes not quite level. "Have you been studying?"

 

My arms extended as though gaping with emptiness as I ran to him; scarcely remembering to avoid his wounds as I held him in my childlike, clinging embrace. I realized that the noises I made were almost comical, crying and laughing at once. A few moments passed before I could pause long enough to glare up at Kurt. "Unchain him, you bastard! Do it!"

 

"Fine." Kurt knelt down behind him; chains clattering as he unlocked them. Nick's hands relaxed and broke free to return my embrace. They moved slowly, pain evident in each motion. One hand had been mutilated, the farthest finger rendered to only a stub.

 

Kurt moved as though to stand, but I reached behind Nick to grab his wrist with all the force my tiny hand could muster. I'm not very big or strong. I thought. But I once bit a human's foot off; they're soft, I could—

 

He immediately tensed, arm moving as though to elbow me in the face. "What--"

 

My grip tightened, voice becoming a slow hiss. "Kurt. You're Kurt. You're even uglier in person. What did you do to him?"

 

Dayna's soft hand on my shoulder was barely noticeable, yet her words were like a calm brook in the midst of my fiery, internal storm. “Sherry, I told you to expect Nick to be in this condition. Don't give him any reason to want to back out on this.” I didn’t move. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “And shoot him.”

 

I'd never seen Kurt's face so close, or so clear. The slight smirk seemed to have changed dramatically, become plastered on above sunken, hollow eyes...as though he'd done something unimaginable, unforgivable, and was now only going through the motions. Maybe it was Nick, or maybe surprise, but my grip slackened enough for him to rip his arm free. “I got him out, just like you said to. I couldn't exactly stop by a hospital on the way here.”

 

“... I have to agree, Sherry.” Dayna’s tone was firm. “Give him some credit.”

 

“You did.” I choked out the words, stepping back slightly but keeping a hold of Nick's intact hand. "And you're going to the States. But next time I see you, you fucker--"

 

"There won't be a next time." He glared. "Not if I can help it."

 

"Don't be sure of that." Dayna added quietly, stepping aside to meet Kurt's eyes.

 

He turned his glare to her. "I just killed two of the people I worked with. I'm not going near you again if I have a choice in the matter."

 

"Well, it's a small world you know?" She raised one eyebrow, enunciating each world clearly. "And if things don't work out I can guarantee you'll be seeing us again for help."

 

"I doubt it." Kurt's voice was cold. What little I'd known of him seemed strangely absent now—no proud laugh, no casual grin as he held the weapon; the upper hand. Now, he only held tickets and would soon disappear.

 

Dayna's soft, thick lower lip protruded in a mock pout. "So cold after all we've done!"

 

I spared Kurt a narrow-eyed, venomous, final glare before turning away from him and meeting Nick's eyes. "You're..." I stopped. How do I even begin to say it? You're half dead but your heart is alive. You're a survivor...you're like the mothership, a wreck that survives every blow of humans and misfortune. Restraint made my antennae twitch erratically. "Let's get you some help."

 

Nick chuckled, though his eyes seemed dark and heavy with guilt. "Aren't I supposed to be the help? It's pathetic, how I allowed things to come to this. I'm sorry for my weakness."

 

"What?" I nearly staggered at his words, and gripped his face in both of my hands. His eyes...somehow, they were strangely like a mirror. "Don't you ever say anything like that. You killed Douglas, quicker and kinder than he deserved. You saved me, and you didn't give in to them. You survived that horrible creature there--" I paused for only an instant, cocking my head towards Kurt. "I love you, Nick! You're a hero...more than that." My own words seemed inadequate, as though he had earned a medal and I could only give him a handful of the sand all about. "You're a beacon, a mountain. Like Father is." I lowered my hands, resting them on his bloodstained shoulders.

 

Kurt's grin was twisted with mockery. "How sweet. Now, can I leave? I have things to do."

 

I clenched my jaws, but spared him only a single click. "Yes."

 

Incredibly, but characteristically, Nick smiled. He rubbed my head with his uninjured hand as though calming a frightened child. "I love you too, little one, and thank you, but I'm nothing like your father." I tried to support him as he winced slightly, climbing to his feet. He glanced over his shoulder, single head-antennae pointing at Kurt. "Enjoy the rest of your life, murderer." 

 

I glanced up to see Kurt's back already to us, heading alone towards his armored truck. He visibly flinched at the word murderer, but made the last few steps away from us—the deal completed, the new life waiting.

 

Nick's shoulders relaxed slightly as Kurt's truck door slammed shut. He wavered on his feet almost imperceptibly; directing a single nod at Dayna and I. "Let's get out of here, please."

 

We supported his weight as best we could and lead him to our own battered white van. Eric had already started the engine.

 

"We'll be back soon." I whispered to him, holding tight to his hand as we settled in to the back and sped across miles of featureless desert, back towards our tunnels and their semblance of safety. He slumped against the seat beside me, exhaustion finally apparent in every line of his dark-plated body. Dayna sat in the passenger seat, beside Eric.

 

"Our people are strong—I know you'll heal. And yes, I've been studying. Even teaching the classes a little." I forced a smile, squeezing his hand. "So much has happened...Christian gave his speech, President Mbeki will decide sometime this week—“

 

Nick's hand went limp, though his breathing was steady in the silence. He'd passed out.

 

I didn’t awake him until we were near the tunnels again, and Eric nearly carried our injured friend to his cot. I was gathering blankets and bandages when Sue emerged from Akra’s alcove, a live news feed nearly blaring behind him.

 

"Hey, just thought you oughta know, the holders heard your Professor's cry and latched on. He's taking the topside by storm, even the Stain is starting to buzz about it."

 

"What do you mean?" Dayna stared at him.

 

"MNU's toast. Tanukashi's taking over. Here's to hoping that they can wipe this stain clean."