Micah took one look at the two women walking out of the training room and knew they’d worked it out. Tal looked as exhausted as a new Guard after basic training, but there was a peace about her that he hadn’t seen since the moment she’d told him to get the warrants. Captain Serrado’s features were stern and set with determination, rather than the killing anger she’d radiated before, and her physical closeness to Tal spoke of watchful protection. He hadn’t expected that much, but he wasn’t about to question it.
The Guards were all too well trained to utter a word, but every eye was on the women’s bruised faces. Tal met their stares and said, “An honor challenge was fought and ended. Captain Serrado accepts my leadership, and I have accepted her oath of service.”
No amount of training could prevent the gasps at that, and even Micah’s jaw loosened. “Will there be a formal ceremony?” he asked.
“That’s not a priority. Corlander, you’re in charge of the Gaians for now. Take them back to their quarters and tell them that their captain is fine and will be speaking with them shortly. Put a watch on Commander Baldassar. Micah, Gehrain, please escort us to the healing center. We’re taking my personal transport.”
It wasn’t until they’d left the other Guards behind and were nearing the small transport that Tal told Gehrain he was flying. Micah looked at her more closely.
“It’s the rib, isn’t it?”
Tal nodded once and silently palmed the transport lock. “Captain, you’ll be in the copilot’s seat.”
Micah frowned as he watched the careful way Tal folded herself into the back seat. He’d seen that kick land, but she hadn’t been debilitated by it then. Something else was going on, and when she rested her head on the seat back and closed her eyes, he was certain of it.
“Gehrain, all possible speed,” he said.
“Yes, Colonel.” Gehrain checked the captain’s harness, started up the engines, and was lifting off not ten pipticks later.
Captain Serrado turned and looked back at Tal in concern. “She Shared with me. It seemed to take a lot out of her.”
Micah’s jaw dropped for the second time that morning. “She Shared with you?”
“I’m not dead yet,” Tal said, but she wasn’t opening her eyes. “I’m not asleep either, so perhaps you could speak to me instead of about me.”
“You Shared with her.” Micah didn’t know how to begin to deal with that. “What in—” He stopped himself in time and finished, “Were you certain it was safe?”
“Lead Templar Satran did it with Lhyn Rivers and had no issues. She did say it was much harder than Sharing with an Alsean. I’ll have to tell her she’s a master of understatement.”
“I’m guessing Lead Templar Satran didn’t do that after a fight, several skipped meals, and six hanticks of sleep over the past three days.” He’d watched her run herself into the ground since the moment that ship landed, always saying there was no time. It seemed to be her mantra, but that was ending right now. Sometimes a Chief Guardian had to take matters into his own hands, and when the Lancer was sitting half-asleep in the back of her own transport, it was past time.
“I know,” she said, and he wasn’t sure whether she was answering his words or his emotions. “It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. But it was the right thing to do.”
He met Serrado’s eyes and saw guilt there.
“Lancer Tal,” she said, “if anything happens to you because of me, Lhyn won’t just hate me; she’ll kill me first and then hate me. Your Guards won’t have to do a thing. Just so you know.”
Tal finally opened her eyes and smiled. “Noted, thank you.”
By the time they landed at the healing center, Tal seemed well enough to walk in under her own power, but Micah suspected that was more determination than anything else. Healer Graystone was on duty and met them at the door, escorting Tal into a private room and shutting the door in Micah’s face when he tried to follow.
Captain Serrado chuckled. “Healers are alike the galaxy over.”
Micah wasn’t amused. He leaned against the wall and waited none too patiently, arms crossed and fingers tapping a beat on his side. The others stood silently, Serrado gazing toward the window at the end of the corridor while Gehrain alternated between watching the door and checking their surroundings.
After fifteen ticks, Micah couldn’t stand it any longer. “I should be in there. What in Fahla’s name is taking so long?”
He could see Gehrain’s agreement, but Captain Serrado shook her head.
“Colonel, I don’t know the Lancer the way you do, but I know what it’s like to be the one constantly in charge, constantly under protection, and constantly on duty even when you’re not supposed to be. Let her have some privacy. She might need that more than anything else.”
“You’re right, you don’t know her the way I do. And you’re one to talk about privacy when she Shared with you. She has little privacy left after that.”
“What does that mean?”
He pushed off the wall and faced her. “You just felt every one of her most guarded emotions and you don’t get why that would be hard for her?”
“But that’s—I didn’t feel her emotions.”
Gehrain joined them. “That’s what a Sharing is, Captain. Perhaps you didn’t understand.”
“I understood just fine. You’re not understanding. She didn’t—” Serrado paused, swore softly in her own language, and shook her head. “She didn’t share her emotions; she shared Lhyn’s. So I could feel what Lhyn feels.”
Micah and Gehrain looked at each other in shock.
“No wonder,” Gehrain murmured.
Micah nodded. “Yes, that explains it. That plus the way she’s worn herself to a blunt edge this last nineday.”
“Then perhaps you could explain it to the sonsales alien?” The captain’s tone was sharp.
Micah gestured at Gehrain, who said, “What Lancer Tal did is much more difficult than a normal Sharing. It’s natural and easy to let your own emotions flow in a connection like that. But to remember your experience of someone else’s emotions and reproduce them, to project emotions that aren’t yours—that takes a high level of skill, a lot of training, and a lot of energy. I’ve done it before, and afterwards I was as hungry as a mountzar that just woke up from the winter sleep. Tired, too. And that was Sharing with an Alsean. If Lead Templar Satran said a normal Sharing was much harder with a Gaian, then…”
“Then she just pushed herself to the very limits,” Serrado finished. “For me.” She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “And I wouldn’t let her go. She said she couldn’t do it anymore. Shek, I thought it was paradise and she was draining herself. Why didn’t she tell me how hard that would be for her?”
Because she was looking for absolution, Micah thought. And judging by the captain’s reaction, she’d found it.
“As a rule,” he said, “warriors don’t like to admit that anything could be hard for them. And Lancer Tal is the leader of our caste.”
“In other words, you’re all brickheads and she’s the most brickheaded of all? Now that I can understand.”
“Lancer Tal is your oath holder now,” Gehrain said reprovingly. “And she gave you a rare gift. She deserves your respect.”
“She has it.” Serrado’s eyes narrowed just before she poked Gehrain in the chest. “But let’s talk about you. How much respect did it take to abuse Trooper Blunt’s feelings for you? Lancer Tal told me what all of you did, and I understand it. I might even have done it myself if I were in your situation. But it wasn’t necessary to take advantage of Blunt’s trust that way.”
Gehrain flushed. “I didn’t take advantage of her. I just tried to be her friend.”
“Well, she seems to believe you could be more than that, and from what I saw, you gave her every reason to think so.”
Micah couldn’t help himself. The stress, the worry about Tal, the impending doom pressing down on all of them—it made him a little punchy, and he began to chuckle.
Serrado turned on him. “Exactly what is funny about that?”
He laughed harder, and when he could speak he said, “It’s not funny, not really, but Gehrain wouldn’t do that.”
She crossed her arms and waited for an explanation. Micah looked at Gehrain, who had turned a darker shade of red.
“I’m not…free, Captain. I mean, I have a lover. And he’d be even more angry at me than you are if I made sexual advances toward someone else.”
“An alien someone else. A female alien someone else,” Micah managed just before losing it altogether. He laughed uproariously and slapped his thigh, and when he looked up, the captain’s expression sent him off into fresh gales of laughter.
To his surprise, the captain began to chuckle too. Gehrain joined them, and all three of them were howling when the door opened and Healer Graystone stepped out, regarding them with the look of a parent watching a group of obnoxious children.
Micah sobered and straightened, followed quickly by the other two. “How is she?”
“Not as well as you, apparently.”
“Healer Graystone,” he said, injecting more authority into his voice.
She shook her head and looked at Gehrain and Serrado, who both took the hint and wandered down the hall. When they were out of hearing range, she said, “She has a fractured rib, which I’ve taken care of, but that’s the least of the problems. The real issue is that she’s on the brink of both physical and mental exhaustion. Did you know she’s been taking stimulants?”
“What?” he burst out before catching himself. Damn that stubborn… “No, I didn’t know.”
“For six days,” Graystone said sternly. “Which is at least three days longer than anyone should. Her body chemistry is showing some alarming aberrations as a result, and that little stunt with a projection Sharing put her right over the top. I’ve given her a treatment which should rebalance her chemistry, but it will take several hanticks before it’s fully effective. In the meantime, she’s asleep, and she’s going to stay that way until evenmeal at least. I’d be happier if she slept through until mornmeal tomorrow.”
“I’d be happier about that, too. But we have a war council tonight and it’s more important than ever that she be there. After that, though, I’ll make certain she gets a full night’s sleep.” Even if he had to stand watch in her quarters.
“Then you have your assignment, Colonel.” Graystone stepped away and called for Captain Serrado. “It’s your turn, Captain. I understand I might need to pay special attention to your jaw.”
As she led the captain through another doorway, Micah slipped inside Tal’s room. The window had been darkened, leaving the room in twilight, but there was still enough light to see Tal fast asleep in the bed. He tiptoed over and rested a hand on her shoulder, watching her breathe. After the way she’d walked in here, stiff and pained, it eased something inside him to see her face so relaxed and know that she was healing.
“You grainbird,” he murmured. “Stimulants and you didn’t tell me? How am I supposed to protect you from yourself?”
He should have been angry. She’d risked her functionality at a time when they needed her more than ever. It was reckless and dangerous, and the fact that she’d hidden it from him meant she damn well knew it. But standing here watching her, he couldn’t lay blame. She really was carrying the whole world on her shoulders right now.
“And because worrying about one world isn’t enough, you did a projection Sharing with Captain Serrado,” he said. “You couldn’t stand a tyree not knowing, could you? You had to show her.”
He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, a liberty he’d been allowed long ago when she was still a child. The connection gave him a low buzz of her emotions, subdued in sleep and indecipherable.
“Sometimes I think you have too much of your mother in you. I’m not sure it’s wise for a Lancer to have that big of a heart.” Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, “Sleep well, Andira.”