Mimi Chester
They loaded her onto the light cruiser. Just as the medic sat her down, Josh marched in and sat opposite. Though his arms were crossed and his expression was severe, she smiled.
He wasn’t about to launch into an attack – the anger compressing his brow wasn’t directed at her. It was concern, wasn’t it?
Mimi took several seconds to sit there and wonder at that fact. Joshua Cook was concerned for her.
He was one heck of a complex guy.
The lieutenant half walked up the ramp, then turned around, staring back toward the desert. “Someone should stay,” he volunteered, “to explore that ship. It’s one hell of a find.”
“Hell is the operative word there, Lieutenant. And no, no one will be staying to explore that ship. In fact, no one is going to touch that ship until I have debriefed with your captain. That place is a death trap.”
The lieutenant opened his mouth to protest, then clearly thought better of it as he walked slowly into the belly of the cruiser.
Josh didn’t stop staring at him until the lieutenant took a seat. It was only when the hatch closed with a smooth click that Josh appeared to relax. And even then he didn’t relax completely. His shoulders were up by his ears, his torso locked with stiff rigidity.
Staring at Josh was the only thing keeping her mind occupied. Every time she stopped looking at him, the fatigue would pull at her arms, pooling in her chest and threatening to push her over.
She took a breath and pressed her hands into her face.
Instantly she heard Josh lean forward. She parted her fingers to see him angling his head toward her.
“Hey, it’s all over now,” he promised with a half-smile.
That smile took up her whole world. It canceled out the tingling in her limbs and the haunting memories still clawing at her mind.
Josh kept her gaze, only dropping it for a fraction of a second when the cruiser took off and hovered above the hole in the desert. The same hole that led down to the belly of that nightmare.
Josh stiffened as he stared through the window, his gaze locking on that shadow in the sand.
Before she could turn and stare at it, he shifted and smiled at her again, even leaning in to block her view through the window.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His mere presence was enough to still her.
The trip up to the Harlow was short, and in ten minutes they rendezvoused with it.
It was odd being back onboard a Coalition ship. As soon as she set foot on it, the stares started. Everyone would know who she was. And whether they were staring because she was the daughter of Theodore Chester or because of her reputation at the Academy, it didn’t matter.
She withdrew. Usually she could fight it – usually she could hold her chin up high.
Today, her hands still tingled. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that red sun.
Today, she couldn’t believe she was still alive.
… How was she still alive?
Or was she still dead?