Kelathe woke suddenly, sweat sheathing her slender frame. Hands trembled as she leaned over to switch on the simple light next to her bed. She tucked her knees up, putting her head in her hands, and letting the dream slowly fade from her. Her body shivered as the air cooled around her. Sweaty curls fell around her body as she shifted, pulling open a drawer in her nightstand.
She had been to Midnight Oils today, but there had been no word from Jaycy since she had left. Kelathe was worried for her, but she understood that the mission required silence from the link that captured the three of them.
Kel?s shields were strong, tight around herself and Pslyder. She hated to do it without asking his permission, but if he knew what Jaycy were going through, the mission might be jeopardized, and with that, Jaycy?s life. Kel wasn?t going to let him go off and do something that might hurt all of three of them. She was very disappointed in herself. She should have said something more to Jaycy. But she knew, from their talk, that words, especially hers, would have no effect on her decision to run.
Kel had to let her go.
From the drawer, Kel pulled out a leather bound journal with creamy, thick pages. She found the fountain pen she had purchased as well. She figured she would have needed an excuse to be at Midnight Oils, anyway, and buying a new journal was probably as good as any. Having a job allowed her to afford some luxuries.
Kelathe paused, hand posed with pen, above the empty paper, eyes staring. She had found Pslyder on the roof, this evening, after she left work. Climbing the ladder, she had manifested a long, warm black jacket, and sat at his side. Neither of them spoke. She had fallen asleep, lying against his arm. She had only woken up when he had carried her to bed.
She was exhausted, but her dreams made her want to write, to remember.
She set pen to paper, and began.
I guess the first thing I remember about Margo was her eyes. She was always watching, always taking note of things around her. We connected on a level that was far beyond the physical ? in fact, we never touched each other beyond companionable hugs throughout our entire time together. However, we were in love.
I know now that that is the emotion that I truly felt for her, even if I had a hard time saying it. Now I understand, more than ever, her final words to me. It was those words that I keep reflecting on, keep haunting my dreams.
I suppose, for the first time, I should write about how Margo died. It?s a subject that I?ve avoided thinking about since I came to this place. I can?t, anymore. Of all things I have to learn to live with, this is one of the hardest.
Margo was a good handler. She was there for me, kept me out of danger. We developed a sort of shorthand speaking that allowed us to communicate easier when I was on a job. I did what I was told, in order to keep her out of danger, keep her from charging in to haul me out of bad situations.
Only once did she ever have to save me. That one time cost her life. I don?t remember the exact circumstances. I was sent in to assassinate an ambassador. I don?t even remember where he was from. I do know he had been sent with a proposal that certain other political figures did not want the President to see.
Up until that point, the operation I worked for had been kept highly secret. Our headquarters were in a space station! Those invisible faces who funded us assumed we would never be found out. They did not plan for human fallibility.
This ambassador had come prepared. His bodyguards had been armed with stun wands, which produced small electrical bursts. Small, yes, but enough to disrupt my intangibility. Suddenly, I found myself tangible, visible, and held down by several pairs of hostile hands. My headset was stripped off of me, as was the rest of my gear. Small caliber guns, knives, all were laid out for the inspection of the man I was sent to kill. I never carried much, but what I did carry had only one specific task: to murder.
I remember the man, distinctly. He was short, dark, with curly hair cut close to his head. He had rather large hands. He liked to slap, and punch. I had extensive training in handling many types of torture. I did not expect, however, for Margo to be part of it.
They did things to her, things I can?t even begin to describe. I remember her bloody face, one eye closed, as she begged them to kill her.
A few tears fell to the page, blurring some of her words.
They killed her. It wasn?t quick, in the end. A direct gunshot wound to the stomach is always fatal without medical attention. They left me alone with her, and I held her head in my lap. She held my hands, trembling in pain. Her beautiful face...
Several painful hours later, she gasped. It was close to the end. In the final moment before she closed her eyes for good, Margo looked up at me. These words haunted me in my captivity, and echo through my dreams even now.
?Live, my love. For both of us.?
I screamed in rage when she died: at our captors, at our lives, at the fact that I never once told her how I felt about her, at my stupidity at getting caught.
After that, things were a blur for a while. I know that I was knocked out, and carried away. I ended up in a small room, solid, with no windows. My first thought was to escape as quickly as possible, but before I could attempt it, an intercom I had not noticed before informed me of how hopeless my situation was.
The room?s walls had several layers, and in between each layer nitrous oxide was injected. The door was electrified, as was the floor and walls all around the small room where I was confined. Gas and electricity ? my two worst enemies. Someone had really done their homework.
There was worse.
I was under arrest, and headed to trial for the execution of the President of the United States. A crime I obviously could not have committed, having been captured several days.
I?m not going to write out all the details of my trial. They had footage ? and this was the hard part to believe ? of me, opening fire on the President after stepping out of the wall. They had fingerprints on the gun that matched my own. Throughout the months of my trial, every time I was present in the courtroom, Mr. Jacobs was there.
He did not speak up for me. He did not even look me in the eye. I had been appointed a defense attorney by the state, but even he thought I was distasteful. The government I had been working for, had dedicated my life to, had abandoned me.
Though the trial lasted months, it was mostly for show. What they really wanted was to torture me even further. I was kept in that room, only given food and water. I was alone with my thoughts. Only once, did I awake to a difference.
Mr. Jacobs was in the room with me, leaning over my bed. His hands were behind his back, and he smiled when I opened my eyes. I was so stunned; I didn?t know what to say.
He spoke. His words cut me to the core. ?Your final lesson, Kelathe. Everyone is expendable. Even you.?
He turned, and was let out of the room. I couldn?t move. I could hardly breathe.
The sentence was handed down the next day. My crime, the judge said, was unredeemable. My life was forfeit to the United States, for the death of their President. Mr. Jacobs ? Ev ? wasn?t there.
My whole world crashed down around me. I was numb. Everything I thought I was working for had abandoned me. My love, my Margo, was gone forever. I had nothing left to live for, and no way to escape what I thought to be my fate.
Most people on death row sit there for years while the system grinds on. I was executed within a week. It seems kind of odd to say it that way, to say that I died. I don?t know how else to explain it.
I wasn?t given a last meal. I wasn?t given the comfort of a human priest. They simply flooded the room where I had been kept with gas, and waited.
I remember lying on the floor, gasping for breath, eyes watering. My lungs were on fire, and my heart pounded in my ears. Suddenly, everything went dark.
I awoke, sunlight streaming on my face. I was still in my prison uniform, but I lay outside, surrounded by trees and nature. I took a deep breath. I thought, perhaps, that this was heaven.
It was Battlefield Park.
I was in Rhy?Din. I had no idea how it had happened, or why I was still alive. My only thought was that somehow, Margo had been looking out for me.
Kelathe laid the pen aside, glancing back over the entry she had just finished. She wiped tears from her eyes, and took a couple of deep breaths. She replaced the journal back in the drawer, and switched out the lights.
Dawn comes slowly to the sleepless.
She had been to Midnight Oils today, but there had been no word from Jaycy since she had left. Kelathe was worried for her, but she understood that the mission required silence from the link that captured the three of them.
Kel?s shields were strong, tight around herself and Pslyder. She hated to do it without asking his permission, but if he knew what Jaycy were going through, the mission might be jeopardized, and with that, Jaycy?s life. Kel wasn?t going to let him go off and do something that might hurt all of three of them. She was very disappointed in herself. She should have said something more to Jaycy. But she knew, from their talk, that words, especially hers, would have no effect on her decision to run.
Kel had to let her go.
From the drawer, Kel pulled out a leather bound journal with creamy, thick pages. She found the fountain pen she had purchased as well. She figured she would have needed an excuse to be at Midnight Oils, anyway, and buying a new journal was probably as good as any. Having a job allowed her to afford some luxuries.
Kelathe paused, hand posed with pen, above the empty paper, eyes staring. She had found Pslyder on the roof, this evening, after she left work. Climbing the ladder, she had manifested a long, warm black jacket, and sat at his side. Neither of them spoke. She had fallen asleep, lying against his arm. She had only woken up when he had carried her to bed.
She was exhausted, but her dreams made her want to write, to remember.
She set pen to paper, and began.
I guess the first thing I remember about Margo was her eyes. She was always watching, always taking note of things around her. We connected on a level that was far beyond the physical ? in fact, we never touched each other beyond companionable hugs throughout our entire time together. However, we were in love.
I know now that that is the emotion that I truly felt for her, even if I had a hard time saying it. Now I understand, more than ever, her final words to me. It was those words that I keep reflecting on, keep haunting my dreams.
I suppose, for the first time, I should write about how Margo died. It?s a subject that I?ve avoided thinking about since I came to this place. I can?t, anymore. Of all things I have to learn to live with, this is one of the hardest.
Margo was a good handler. She was there for me, kept me out of danger. We developed a sort of shorthand speaking that allowed us to communicate easier when I was on a job. I did what I was told, in order to keep her out of danger, keep her from charging in to haul me out of bad situations.
Only once did she ever have to save me. That one time cost her life. I don?t remember the exact circumstances. I was sent in to assassinate an ambassador. I don?t even remember where he was from. I do know he had been sent with a proposal that certain other political figures did not want the President to see.
Up until that point, the operation I worked for had been kept highly secret. Our headquarters were in a space station! Those invisible faces who funded us assumed we would never be found out. They did not plan for human fallibility.
This ambassador had come prepared. His bodyguards had been armed with stun wands, which produced small electrical bursts. Small, yes, but enough to disrupt my intangibility. Suddenly, I found myself tangible, visible, and held down by several pairs of hostile hands. My headset was stripped off of me, as was the rest of my gear. Small caliber guns, knives, all were laid out for the inspection of the man I was sent to kill. I never carried much, but what I did carry had only one specific task: to murder.
I remember the man, distinctly. He was short, dark, with curly hair cut close to his head. He had rather large hands. He liked to slap, and punch. I had extensive training in handling many types of torture. I did not expect, however, for Margo to be part of it.
They did things to her, things I can?t even begin to describe. I remember her bloody face, one eye closed, as she begged them to kill her.
A few tears fell to the page, blurring some of her words.
They killed her. It wasn?t quick, in the end. A direct gunshot wound to the stomach is always fatal without medical attention. They left me alone with her, and I held her head in my lap. She held my hands, trembling in pain. Her beautiful face...
Several painful hours later, she gasped. It was close to the end. In the final moment before she closed her eyes for good, Margo looked up at me. These words haunted me in my captivity, and echo through my dreams even now.
?Live, my love. For both of us.?
I screamed in rage when she died: at our captors, at our lives, at the fact that I never once told her how I felt about her, at my stupidity at getting caught.
After that, things were a blur for a while. I know that I was knocked out, and carried away. I ended up in a small room, solid, with no windows. My first thought was to escape as quickly as possible, but before I could attempt it, an intercom I had not noticed before informed me of how hopeless my situation was.
The room?s walls had several layers, and in between each layer nitrous oxide was injected. The door was electrified, as was the floor and walls all around the small room where I was confined. Gas and electricity ? my two worst enemies. Someone had really done their homework.
There was worse.
I was under arrest, and headed to trial for the execution of the President of the United States. A crime I obviously could not have committed, having been captured several days.
I?m not going to write out all the details of my trial. They had footage ? and this was the hard part to believe ? of me, opening fire on the President after stepping out of the wall. They had fingerprints on the gun that matched my own. Throughout the months of my trial, every time I was present in the courtroom, Mr. Jacobs was there.
He did not speak up for me. He did not even look me in the eye. I had been appointed a defense attorney by the state, but even he thought I was distasteful. The government I had been working for, had dedicated my life to, had abandoned me.
Though the trial lasted months, it was mostly for show. What they really wanted was to torture me even further. I was kept in that room, only given food and water. I was alone with my thoughts. Only once, did I awake to a difference.
Mr. Jacobs was in the room with me, leaning over my bed. His hands were behind his back, and he smiled when I opened my eyes. I was so stunned; I didn?t know what to say.
He spoke. His words cut me to the core. ?Your final lesson, Kelathe. Everyone is expendable. Even you.?
He turned, and was let out of the room. I couldn?t move. I could hardly breathe.
The sentence was handed down the next day. My crime, the judge said, was unredeemable. My life was forfeit to the United States, for the death of their President. Mr. Jacobs ? Ev ? wasn?t there.
My whole world crashed down around me. I was numb. Everything I thought I was working for had abandoned me. My love, my Margo, was gone forever. I had nothing left to live for, and no way to escape what I thought to be my fate.
Most people on death row sit there for years while the system grinds on. I was executed within a week. It seems kind of odd to say it that way, to say that I died. I don?t know how else to explain it.
I wasn?t given a last meal. I wasn?t given the comfort of a human priest. They simply flooded the room where I had been kept with gas, and waited.
I remember lying on the floor, gasping for breath, eyes watering. My lungs were on fire, and my heart pounded in my ears. Suddenly, everything went dark.
I awoke, sunlight streaming on my face. I was still in my prison uniform, but I lay outside, surrounded by trees and nature. I took a deep breath. I thought, perhaps, that this was heaven.
It was Battlefield Park.
I was in Rhy?Din. I had no idea how it had happened, or why I was still alive. My only thought was that somehow, Margo had been looking out for me.
Kelathe laid the pen aside, glancing back over the entry she had just finished. She wiped tears from her eyes, and took a couple of deep breaths. She replaced the journal back in the drawer, and switched out the lights.
Dawn comes slowly to the sleepless.