Author: Keshara Moore
Date: 2023-04-25 04:00:00+00:00
Description: To turn within is to survive. After the collapse of humanity in 2211, Lettie Valentine, her family, and the rest of Washington D.C.’s Black upper class sought refuge in the ruins of Salt Lake City. As the Founders of the Obsidian Society, they turned inward, protecting their own against the remaining Colonies on Earth. Now, after years of hard-won peace and growth under the Valentines’ helm, cracks begin to surface. Their father, the colony’s predecessor, is gone, and Lettie’s older brother conspires against their mother for power. Waves of hostile Colonists suddenly bombard their home, seemin
Publisher: Lioncrest Publishing
Rights: Copyright © 2023 Keshara Moore. All rights reserved.

copyright © 2023 keshara moore

All rights reserved.

the obsidian society
first edition
isbn

978-1-5445-4198-3Hardcover

978-1-5445-4199-0Paperback

978-1-5445-4197-6Ebook

“If there’s a book you really want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.”

—Toni Morrison

Contents

PART 1

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part 2

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Part 3

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

For my parents,
Aisha A. Moore and Jerry L. McRae Jr.
Words will never be enough, but here’s a start.
Thank you.

PART
1

Prologue

Dramatics and false pretenses aside, the worst part about drowning isn’t the actual action of drowning. No, it’s the innate betrayal of one’s body that really leaves a lasting impression. Most people go their entire lives without questioning a thing as simple as breathing, going through the motions subconsciously, completing the life-preserving act more than twenty thousand times a day.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

And so forth.

There are few things in the world that come as natural as breathing does. Every living organism does it, irrefutably. It is never taught; it goes unquestioned. That is, until you realize that you may be drawing your last. Then, it’s all you can think about. Don’t believe me? Reread that last part again. I bet you’re counting your breaths right now, aren’t ya?

Now take that heightened awareness and compound it with water closing in, engulfing any and all space around you. A rapid heartbeat thundering in your head, the only sign that it isn’t some sick nightmare and you are indeed—ever fleetingly—still alive.

The real kicker though is when the drowning begins. When the body’s natural reflex to breathe, inhale, its demanding desire to reach that twenty-thousand standard, is its ultimate undoing. Each of your senses stands acutely aware of the dire situation you’re in, such that your brain repeatedly stutters over the action of taking that first sip of water, and everything in you understands the inevitable fatalistic outcome. An anatomical paradox, your brain ignores your body’s instinct and shouts, “Breathe!” And you do. And it burns like lava traveling up your nose, down your throat, and through your veins.

I would later discover that it in fact takes several minutes for a person to completely croak from drowning, most of which you’re unconscious for. But for those 120 seconds when you are awake, mind racing, trying to think of just how the hell you got yourself into such a situation and how you’re going to get out of it, those moments are a living hell. I know this because it’s how I died.

Chapter
1

“Mija, I admit, my expectations—completely blown!”

Squared in front of Lettie, the man gripped her chin hard, his face inches away. A small incandescent light bulb above the duo cast dark savage shadows over her aggressor. Despite the dim glow, Lettie could make out the long unkempt hairs that comprised his scraggly beard and thinning mustache to match. Breath like rancid tuna hit her face wave after wave as the man inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“It took some real huevos breaking in here by yourself, or I guess, in your case, cómo se dice…‘ovaries’? Oh, but this,” he motioned toward her up and down, “now this, I gotta give you props on.”

The speaker smiled wide, exposing all his teeth, several silver caps glinting harshly in the light.

“Matteo here has sent fishes bigger than you to meet their dead relatives in la tierra de la muerta.” His grip tightened along her chin, eyes trailing up and down her torso. “But here you sit, calm, cool, and, mostly, still together. Maybe he been going easy on you, muy fácil. Maybe he got a little crush on you, ah? Shit, who could blame him?”

Conveniently, he’d failed to mention that his captive had taken out half a dozen of his men before anyone even knew she was in the building, but even Lettie knew it wasn’t the time to boast.

A hard shake of her head forced his sweaty palm off her face. Before the long-winded speaker could recover, Lettie mustered the biggest loogie she could form and hawked it smack dab in the middle of his forehead.

“Maldita puta!” The man jerked his small wiry frame backward and swatted at his face, a roar of expletives that even Lettie could understand ringing out.

A sudden breeze from the left tipped Lettie off to the incoming strike before its impact. A meaty fist smashed into the side of her face and then another in quick succession. Both blows struck her squarely upon the temple. The impact rocked her so hard that her chair toppled over, slamming her strapped body into the concrete ground with it. Lettie balled her fists, straining against the tight rope bindings. Blackness threatened to overtake her vision. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she drew blood. The taste of iron sent a waking shock through her body. It took a few moments for her eyes to return to normal and once they had, two pairs of boots stared back, menacingly. Continuing the barrage, a swift kick to the ribs beckoned the blackness to return, and a newfound uneasy wave of nausea clutched her stomach. Bile threatened to surface.

“Siéntenla! And get me something to wipe this shit off!”

The chair and Lettie with it were roughly lurched back to an upright position. This time the man whose fists she’d grown unluckily close to, Matteo, remained inches away. His dark glare dared her to make another move. Reorienting herself, Lettie studied her surroundings once more. Aside from Matteo and Silas, the group’s underwhelming leader, several other men and women gathered around the small room, illuminated by hastily assembled portable floodlights. Ceremoniously, they all donned the same cut-off leather vests, but where Silas’s vest fell over him like an oversized T-shirt, Matteo’s barely squeezed over his massive forearms. Similar to the rest of the group, though, both men were covered in an equally impressive number of tattoos. Lettie’s dad would have called them illegals or degenerates, voice thick with venom as he barked that they were a people with no code. She shook her head free of the memory.

Their party was situated in the basement of a run-down house fifty-four miles outside of Salt Lake City, Utah. From previously studied blueprints, Lettie knew that the little wooden door to her right was the only way in or out of the unfinished basement. Though she’d grown used to the smell, the constant musty odor of standing water was barely a step above that of Silas’s hot breath.

“You got some nerve showing up here, causing trouble. You’re a little far from home, no?” Silas reverted to the same line of questioning he’d been prodding her with, to no avail, all afternoon. “Por qué estás aquí?…Why are you here?”

Lettie spoke, exercising every effort to avoid betraying the very real pain that pulsed through her body with every breath. “I told you yesterday, I was sent to find out why you and your gang of misfits are headed straight toward our borders. You’ve been moving closer and closer to the colony every week this month, and it’s a little concerning to say the least.”

“Mentirosa!” His patience was waning as he paced back and forth over the dusty floor, occasionally acknowledging the expectant glares of their audience. “You want me to believe that Regina fucking Valentine just up and sent you of all people on a suicide mission with no backup, all to find out why I tell my people what I do?”

Lettie mustered a sly grin, achingly stretching the skin of her busted top lip. “What do I gain from lying to you, Silas? I’m sure big boy here is itching to find a reason to give me another go, and as you already pointed out, I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.”

Just for that, Matteo chucked a quick jab to her previously injured ribs and the air momentarily escaped Lettie’s lungs. When it returned thirty seconds later, Lettie hung her head, finding it easy to sell her defeat for the whole room. Despite her experience and training, she was finding it increasingly difficult to control her emotions, pain and anger at the forefront.

A minute of silence passed before anyone spoke.

“Your supplier.” The words came as a mumble.

“Qué dijiste?” Silas’s interest in her sudden talkativeness finally gave him the courage to come within arm’s length of her again.

“We know you’re getting additional supplies from someone, someone outfitting you guys. I was sent here to find out who and what it has to do with OS.”

For a moment, he looked as if he was going to deny the accusation or was bewildered about how she’d obtained the information; either way, it was difficult to tell. Blood had begun to seep slowly into Lettie’s eye, obscuring her vision. Briefly, she questioned whether Matteo’s strike had also blown her eardrum because suddenly she registered Silas break out into a wheezing fit of laughter.

When he finally managed to compose himself once again, he replied in his heavily accented tone, “You tall and mighty monos have no idea what’s coming for you. Pobrecita, El Diablo es—”

Matteo and Lettie saw the flash-bang skid across the room at the same time, and she slammed her eyes closed tightly in the hopes of limiting the effects. Time froze as a multitude of screams and voices started up to her right, then three quick gunshots, and then silence.

Lettie blinked several times, gathering her bearings, before a hand grabbed her shoulder tightly.

“No!” She thrust her head in every direction, attempting to defend herself against her attacker anyway she could.

“Aye, Lettie…calm down! It’s me.” The honeyed accented voice hinted at the speaker’s identity, but their headgear muddled their words. They quickly snatched the protective goggles off, and Lettie’s body immediately went limp, relaxed.

“Tristan.”

The woman’s hair fell around her face, locs so long that in her crouched position in front of Lettie, they almost hit the floor beneath them, the worry in her dark brown eyes palpable. Gently, Tristan placed a hand on each side of Lettie’s face and forced them into a focused stare off.

“So, you are still in there. You had me worried for a second.”

“What took you so long?”

“Oh, ya know—thought we’d stop and shoot the shit with the jackrabbits and chuckwallas.”

Tristan proceeded to pull out a sharp hunting knife from her waistband and began to cut through the restraints at Lettie’s wrists and ankles, paying extra care not to pull the material too tautly against the raw skin. Once freed from her restraints, Lettie had a chance to take in the fallout around them. Matteo’s body lay exceptionally still, just a foot from where she stood. He bore two bullet holes, that she could see, in his thick neck and bright blood continued to dribble out of the wounds. In the cold, a singular hole that resided directly in the middle of his chest, and the one Lettie estimated had resulted in his immediate demise, still smoked slightly and her gaze focused in on the gun that lay idle in his hand. She hadn’t witnessed him pull it, but nonetheless reached down and grabbed it out of his large fist, chalking the momentary tremor in her hand up to adrenaline. Checking to make sure it was loaded, she slipped the weapon into the waistband of her jeans. Lettie turned toward the rest of the room: her team had secured the remaining Lobos, their weapons stockpiled in a duffel bag off to the side and their hands secured with reinforced zip ties.

“Are there any more upstairs?” she asked Tristan, brushing her hand through her hair, attempting to pat down the wild, curly tufts that were undeniably sticking up at various angles.

“Mostly dead. There were a few runners, but I sent the twins after them. Other than that, it’s just these baddies down here.” Tristan motioned to Silas, who cowered in the corner with the rest of his men, eyes glaring at them. Lettie counted eighteen in total.

With Tristan following closely behind her, Lettie led them to the corner of the room where a small kitchenette set held Lettie’s seized gear.

“Once you get a total head count with Nico and Nyla, secure this area and transport them back to headquarters. Leave two of our people here in case any stragglers decide to return.” Lettie grimaced as she made her way through the dingy basement, back up the single set of rickety stairs, and toward the front door.

Outside, the sun had almost fully set behind the outcropping of the Wasatch Mountains in the distance. A gust of wind hit her immediately, forcing her to pull the brown bomber jacket tightly together. Across the desolate front yard, several bikes lined up in a neat two-by-two row caught Lettie’s eye. Unlike the salvaged bikes Lettie was accustomed to, these beasts were in a league of their own, their unique paint jobs displaying the level of care and attention put into them. Lettie took a deep breath in and limped over to the stationary motorcade, knowing the Lobos inside wouldn’t need them any longer. As she delicately swung her legs over the custom leather seat, positioning herself carefully but expertly onto the bike, Tristan emerged from behind and placed her hands on the bars, blocking Lettie’s path.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” She took up a position of defiance in front of the handlebars. “The chopper’s been sent out for recovery on this one and you need to get back to the clinic like yesterday.” She motioned to the blood still dribbling down from Lettie’s eyebrow.

At full height, Tristan stood just about 5’4”, exactly five inches shorter than her, and where Lettie was all lines and rigid edges, her second-in-command was shapely and had curves that would make the holiest individual sweat. Her skin was the color of deep mocha, accompanied by full lips and wide hips that made her look all the more pleasing. From the retelling of stories about her family, Lettie knew Tristan prided herself highly on her Kingston roots and status as a second-generation immigrant. Coupled with her short stature, yet imposing demeanor, was a small golden nose ring that she never took out and a perfectly applied coat of signature plum purple lipstick.

Leaning in toward the shorter woman, Lettie nonchalantly borrowed the scarf wrapped around her neck and pressed it against the open wound. “You know how I feel about flying. Plus, I’ve been cramped in that room for three days. I’m not trying to trade one confined space for another just yet.” Handing the saturated bloody cloth back to Tristan, she shoved the helmet at the back of the bike over her head. Before she could conjure up another attempt to dissuade, Lettie put her hand out, waiting.

Tristan’s stare faltered first before pulling the confiscated keys out of her vest and dropping them into the other woman’s palm. Before she could jerk it back, Lettie playfully grabbed the hand, planted an extra sloppy kiss on it, and sped away.

***

Midnight was not far off when Lettie finally pulled up to the outskirts of downtown. Most of the suburbs in and around the city were free reign, but the entire downtown area was controlled by her people, the Obsidian Society. Despite the crowds of people waiting to gain entry, with a brief flash of her face, Lettie was quickly waved through all the armed checkpoints. Soon enough her route would intersect with I-215, the structural border that separated OS territory from the outskirts of Salt Lake’s greater area.

Reaching her destination, Lettie removed the helmet and gave the guards on duty the friendliest nod she could muster, trying not to betray the utter exhaustion that seeped into every bone of her body. As she walked the bike past the receding chain-link blockade, one of them piped up. The boy couldn’t have been any older than seventeen but could probably take down a person twice his age. He made zero attempt at hiding his bewilderment at her disarrayed appearance.

“Uhh, we’ve been instructed to get a message to you upon your arrival. Command’s waiting for you at the convention center.”

There was little point in volunteering to him that she wouldn’t be headed that way, so she simply nodded in acknowledgment and continued to walk down the overgrown sidewalk.

The security station sat sandwiched between a derelict bookstore, where she’d personally found many a rare find, and the apartment building where she lived. The Westgate Lofts towered over its neighboring buildings by a few stories and was longer than it was tall, giving the building a funny squat look. The red bricked arches stopped at the fifth floor, the top floor contrasting the previous levels in that it looked like a gray, single-story condo had been plopped on top of the rest of the building. The outside was certainly nothing special anymore, having lost its former architectural beauty long ago, but it was home.

As soon as Lettie passed the entryway’s threshold, she went rigid. There was another’s presence in the apartment. She removed the recently deceased Matteo’s gun from her waist, and her ribs punished her for the quick movement. After the past days’ events, she was in no condition to fight off whoever had intruded but had little choice at that point. Silently, Lettie made her way down the pitch dark but familiar hallway. One foot in front of the other, she expertly checked and cleared the smaller guest room and bathroom along the way. The rest of the dwelling cleared, Lettie crept into her bedroom. There on the edge of the bed sat the head of Command, admiring a book of pictures Lettie kept stuffed away in the nightstand, a single handheld lantern illuminating her motions. A large Australian shepherd dashed off the bed and ran to greet Lettie, bestowing several wet kisses upon her.

“Hey there, boob. Miss me?” Lettie gave the brown-and-white spotted dog scratches behind the ear just like she liked and then stood back up. The uninvited guest was unmoving and placid, unfazed by Lettie’s mere presence. “Please, make yourself at home,” she muttered, sarcastically.

Regina Valentine took one last long look at one of the pictures and returned the book to the drawer. Max loped after Lettie into the living room as she plopped down into one of the armchairs and started to remove her dusty boots. She could feel the woman take a seat across from her, patiently and quietly waiting for Lettie to make eye contact.

The colony’s matriarch sat at a little over 5’ 3”, but from the presence that she took up in a room, one wouldn’t know it right away. The way she held herself led many to the realization that they’d never met a person more comfortable in their skin, possessing none of the nervous tics and personal habits that most people used to cover up their own insecurities. Even the way her broad forehead narrowed down to a point, completing the heart shape of her face, seemed to welcome others in, the threat underneath hidden covertly until ready to be released. These characteristics did not transfer to Lettie. She had inherited her father’s strong nose, his plump lips, and the familial Valentine top tooth gap instead. The sole physical trait the women did share, though, was their dark chestnut hair with accompanying auburn undertones, whose curl pattern consisted of kinky, loose coils. While Lettie appreciated the functionality her own curly, tapered fade afforded her, her mother took pride in a rotation of sculpted hairstyles—braided updos, tight bun pieces, twist outs bouncing just above her shoulder—all accompanied by ritually attended manicured nails. Altogether, the older woman’s polished beauty added another layer to the regal vibe that accompanied her role, both as the leader of OS and the only overbearing parent Lettie had left.

“I’m going to assume that the guards were somehow incapable of delivering my message. That you didn’t purposefully disregard a direct order from me.” The question wasn’t actually intended to be answered and both of them knew it; just as they both knew that Lettie would reply anyway.

“I’m exhausted.”

“As you should be.”

Nonchalantly, Regina crossed her legs and brushed a few stray dog hairs off her pant leg. She’d brought along the lantern from the bedroom, the luminescent light causing shadows to play across the otherwise dark room. Eerie, refracted glimpses of their reflections caught Lettie’s eye in the glass panels of the patio entrance.

“But someone has to explain to the others why our head intelligence officer decided to take point on a minor recon mission without permission, putting not only herself in needless danger, but the entire operation itself.”

“Minor recon mission?” Lettie narrowed her eyes. “You sent Tristan in there with barely any intel, and half that unit was made up of new recruits!”

Except for Tristan and the twins, everyone on scene earlier had been training with reconnaissance for less than a year, a limitation that could have easily jeopardized the entire mission with one untimely mistake. And her mother knew that.

The same pair of medium brown eyes stared back at Lettie, betraying little emotion.

“Tristan and the others would have been fully prepared for whatever was thrown at them. It was careless of you to take such an unnecessary risk by volunteering to put yourself in that situation.”

“I’ve been in hundreds of those situations,” Lettie snapped, “and you didn’t question my role during those.”

The older woman was quick to respond, her tone never peaking above its normal alto range. “Those were key missions, this was not. Just because Tristan is your girlfriend doesn’t mean—”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

Lettie paused, her hand wavering in its attention to Max in the moment of frustration. She watched her companion as Max plopped into the doggie bed. Lettie recalled personally fastening it together out of a cardboard box, old pillows, and a bedsheet covered in little cartoon fruits. When Lettie had first found Max limping out in the woods on her first night in Salt Lake, the Aussie pup was swallowed up by the bed, her body gaunt. Quickly, she grew into the now weathered, ragged pallet and could often be found there when she wasn’t at the foot of Lettie’s own bed.

“I suggest you lower your voice.” Regina paused, allowing both women to come back to themselves. “Whatever you’re calling yourselves these days, don’t let your feelings for each other cloud your judgment, or worse.”

Lettie didn’t answer, which immediately prompted Regina to move from her seat on the couch to a kneeling position in front of her daughter. The smallest hint of myrrh entered Lettie’s nostrils as Regina covered her hands with her own and held them in Lettie’s lap; she’d not done that since Lettie was a child. When she finally spoke again, Regina’s voice had softened, the glacier veil melting slightly.

“I know it doesn’t always come out the right way, but at the end of the day you are my baby girl before anything else, and I worry about you.” She gave Lettie’s hands a firm squeeze, continuing, “I may not have a say in the fact that you risk your life, but I damn sure will do everything in my power to make sure you don’t do so unnecessarily.”

Lettie let out a resigned sigh and delivered her mom a lazy grin. Just like that, everything between them was defused and Regina let her hands go, Command mode snapping back into place over the momentary maternal affection.

“I’m still receiving the others’ reports, but what information were you able to gather?”

Lettie spent the next hour giving her mom a rundown of the last three days from start to finish. Her findings confirmed that Los Lobos were indeed headed their way, but for what reason was still unknown. More importantly, the interception of the shabby gang had confirmed they were indeed getting dispensed supplies from someone well connected, but it remained undisclosed from who. The gears turning in Regina’s head were practically visible as she listened silently, trying to piece all the information together. She’d only admit such to a small circle of individuals, but Lettie knew from the small frown that overtook her mouth that her mom was worried they still had no real answers regarding the recent increase in gang expeditions to the city.

As Lettie’s account came to an end, Regina stood and, with one last pat to a passed-out Max, made her way to the front door.

“Some of your unit is still outside the city tracking a few of the Lobos; Junior and Malachi will personally see to the questioning of our new guests come first light.”

They stood in the dimly lit foyer and Regina pulled her in for a quick but firm hug. Pulling back, she stared at her only daughter’s face, studying the damage there.

“Get yourself to the clinic first thing in the morning; that eye’s going to need stitches. If you’re not there before breakfast, this time I’ll send Malachi to physically retrieve you.”

She let out a small chuckle, but Lettie knew she wasn’t joking.

“And for heaven’s sake, start locking your door.”

Alone at last, Lettie closed the door behind her, ensuring to bolt both locks tight. Before returning to the bedroom, she lit the dying nub of a stray candle and grimaced as she was accosted by the sight of herself in the vanity mirror. On the left side of her face, dried blood trailed from her eyebrow and below that, the swelling under her eye socket rose at an exponential rate. She pulled her shirt up and pressed gently against her ribs with two fingers; the area was tender but not broken. Her lip was split and stung every time she licked it.

Damage assessed, she splashed water over her face, fashioned a cold compress for her eye, and continued to her room. Max jumped onto the bed as Lettie stripped the dirty multiple days–old clothes off and plopped onto the mattress. Making room for herself next to her owner, the shepherd kicked a pile of stuff off the bed and curled into Lettie’s side.

Having been abandoned by the warm glow of the lantern and her mother along with it, Lettie couldn’t be bothered to lift herself once more from the bed. Moonlight poured in through the bedroom’s bare windows, and it was enough for Lettie to see by. Hesitating for only a moment, Lettie found the photo album tucked away in her side drawer, still slightly warm to the touch. Inside, the contents ranged from creased sepia photos of ancestors she couldn’t begin to name to various family holiday shoots throughout the years. Flipping through to the last photo, Lettie’s fingers traveled along a selfie of her family shot in front of Salt Lake’s skyline. In the forefront of the photo Lettie and her brothers beam directly into the lens while in the background her mom and dad look down distractedly at a map. Followed by her sudden loss of the valuable camera, Lettie’s last photo documented the day her family arrived in their new home.

Utah was never her first pick for places to spend the rest of her life, but Lettie hadn’t had much of a choice. None of them did, really—freedom to live wherever one desired was a concept of the past. All stereotypes aside, no eleven-year-old Black kid from DC, having known nothing but the busy, bustling streets of the now sunken capital, dreamt of living in the Beehive State. After a pandemic virus ripped through countries, sickness gave way to famine and famine gave way to world wars, culminating in the launch of a wave of nuclear bombs worldwide. It’d been almost twelve years since humankind succeeded in ensuring their only viable planet was made uninhabitable, or so they thought. Luckily, a few areas remained unscathed by the bombs’ blast radiuses, the last livable land on Earth, Salt Lake included. These divided havens became known as the Colonies. This prompted several hotshot scientists and high-up government officials to explore and eventually successfully colonize an intergalactic planet before everything on Earth went to shit. That planet bore the name Cypheria, and those rich enough to afford it now lived and thrived off-world. The rest of them remained on Earth and were stuck fighting to survive and praying not to die a grisly death. In short, calling Utah home was about as unexpected as the world imploding. But implode it did.

Wary of wallowing in the past for too long, Lettie closed the weathered photo album and discarded it back into the drawer with a silent finality. Pulling Max closer, slumber did not allude Lettie for long as she closed her mind off to anything that wasn’t sleep.

Chapter
2

Hoping to combat the sweat that dripped down her forehead from stinging her eyes, Lettie wiped her equally drenched forearm across it. She’d been paired with one of the older boys that day. They’d been sparring for nearly an hour, and he was kicking her butt without apology. That, doubled with the scorching heat waves that poured through the windows brought on by a particularly hot summer day in Salt Lake, left Lettie feeling both exhausted and even more frustrated at her poor performance.

Catching Lettie off guard, her opponent smashed his wooden baton against her forearms, breaking her block. He then landed another quick hit at the back of her knobby knees, sending her body crumpling to the mat for the twelfth time that day.

“Focus, Lettie! You gotta anticipate your enemy’s next move.”

Her dad paced back and forth around them, critiquing stance and position methodically. Rarely did he attend his children’s sparring matches anymore, too caught up in his duties as right-hand man to OS’s first leader, Allister. But that day, he’d decided to make an appearance, and Lettie wanted nothing but to impress him with her progress. Whether it was due to her overzealous attempt at trying or nerves, she didn’t know, but her frustration at her failure to deliver a single successful tap out the entire day was finally getting to her.

“Again!”

The sparring pair assumed their individual positions across the mat. At the instruction of Lettie’s dad, they both charged forward, each hoping to deal the best blow. After several particularly good ducks and blocks, Lettie thought she saw her opening and charged, only to be disappointed. The boy, who’d clearly baited her, took advantage of her overcommitment and dodged to the side, leaving his opponent to fall over her own feet. He roared with laughter as she lay face-first on the mat, her pride irrevocably tarnished. As he turned to walk away, positively pleased with himself, Lettie peeled herself off the mat. Coolly, she brought the wooden baton up into the air, ready to deliver a swift attack to the back of his head.

“That’s enough!”

Her father’s large hand was suddenly wrapped around the baton, jerking the weapon roughly from her grasp. Lettie’s almost victim celebrated boisterously, remaining unaware of the sneak attack on his life.

“Look at me.”

Lettie let her head continue to hang, afraid that if she looked up into her father’s eyes, the hot tears that brimmed at the edges of her own would break free.

“I said look at me, Leticia.”

Finally, she complied, her breath coming fast.

“You don’t get to throw a fit when you lose, do you understand me?”

Embarrassment turning into rage, Lettie threw a little finger in the direction of where the boy now sat with a group of other kids.

“It’s not fair! He’s older than me! And bigger!”

She was convinced she had a valid point, as she knew her dad couldn’t disagree with the truth in front of their faces. At fifteen, her partner had three years on her and side by side their frames resembled the number 10 quite closely, he the 0, her the scraggly 1.

“Life ain’t fair. You gotta learn to control your emotions now, in here, cause if you don’t, your enemies will use them against you out there. We,” he motioned between them, “we don’t get to make mistakes like that out in the real world, baby girl. Not now, not ever. I know—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the room went dead quiet. Lettie looked around to find the others, but the two were somehow the only ones that remained.

“Dad, what’s going on?”

Suddenly, her lanky frame was thrown back onto the ground, the impact knocking the breath out of her. Her vision grew blurry as she opened her eyes to try to pinpoint the direction of their attacker, but she was alone. Her father was nowhere to be found.

“Dad!”

As Lettie continued to call out, the previously controlled tears began to stream down her face. She planted her hands on the ground, ready to lift herself to her feet, and as she did, they landed in something wet.

She peered down only to realize she was sitting in a pool of blood, the scarlet geyser seeming to pump straight out of the mat. Lettie’s screams came muted, no sound escaping, fear seeming to have frozen both time and her ability to act. Before long, the blood had completely overtaken her body, her face the only part still above the surface. Resigned to her fate, she inhaled a deep breath and right before the blood bath claimed her entirely, a male figure flashed before her, towering over her, his body distorted, a squared head and hairy, engorged tree trunk arms the only flickers of recognition. The man watched as she sank, an accomplice to his daughter’s fate.

***

The nightmares used to be really bad after the Impact first happened. Panicking, Lettie would wake up soaked in sweat, gulping for air, fully convinced that she was reliving moments from her past, or rather a curated nightmarish version of them. This particular memory she knew well though, because it was hatched from the last time she ever saw her father alive. It’d been months since the events of that day had crossed her mind, but nonetheless, she awoke fighting off the last remaining traces of the night terror. The gnawing aches at her body caused her to groan, recalling her mother’s previous threat of forced escort. Max was already awake and stared at her from across the room as if to ask what her companion’s problem was.

Lettie threw on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and boots, moving slowly to stave off dizziness. It was the beginning of October and though snow had failed to make its unwelcome presence known, the air outside was still such that the checkpoint guards outside would soon be forced to start bonfires with whatever material could be found in the hopes of additional warmth. After shoveling food into Max’s bowl, Lettie locked the door behind her and walked to the center of the compound.

Even at the age of ten, Lettie could comprehend that the Obsidian Society largely had Allister to thank for the colony’s success. A London-born Zulu man who immigrated back to South Africa after university and then finally to DC, Allister had been in her life since she could remember. Days after the Impact first took place, it was Allister who directed her parents, along with the other founding members of OS, to meet him in Salt Lake. Allister claimed the city was rich with resources, but out of the way enough that they wouldn’t be forced to contend with competition, both imperative for survival. Later, through the gossip of others, she would learn that although the former was true, Allister also greatly admired Brigham Young and his Mormon pioneers, convinced that their original pillars of hard work and rigidly defined community would bestow the same blessings on OS. And he was right. Within hours of their impact, the nuclear bombs left almost 75 percent of Earth’s landmass uninhabitable, but that was just the beginning. With almost as much of the population gone as land, stories spread detailing the sheer violence that engulfed the world after Impact Day. Humans quickly resorted to what they did best and went to war over any remaining resources and land, expediting the casualty rate. Despite ample preparation, Salt Lake was not an exception to the Impact’s fallout, and their colony survived solely on pure willpower, obedient service to the society, and hard work.

Allister, but mostly Brigham, had laid the foundation for their livelihood in the city, and once leadership was handed over to Lettie’s mother, it was only natural that the colony would continue to bloom. Those who remained from the original population within the city limits survived in part thanks to OS and were happily indebted to the gang; outside of bartering and mutual assistance, they left the gang alone and OS them. Against Allister’s wishes and warnings against outsiders, under Regina’s then newfound leadership, those who arrived at the colony and desired to stay were vetted through a rigorous initiation process, with those who passed welcomed into the gang. Twelve years later, the compound now included, among other amenities, a school, farming sector, and fully operational clinic, which Lettie was currently on her way to visit.

“You’re going to have some pretty sweet scar tissue, that’s for sure.” Luthor cut the final thread, swabbed some ointment onto her eyebrow, and placed a bandage over his handiwork. “The ladies are going to go crazy for you.”

Luthor was the clinic’s chief medical personnel, one among the limited doctors who they were lucky to have, and who happened to be one of the few people outside her family that Lettie was closest to. She trusted him with her life, mostly in part because she’d literally put that saying to the test and still had a life to risk.

To a tee, the man was exactly what one pictured a doctor to look like: square glasses, kind moss-hazel eyes, and deeply grooved worry lines etched over his sandy brown skin. Most days, he kept his scruff of light brown beard hair at bay through daily shavings, but it fluctuated depending on how busy the clinic was, a sharp contrast to his sprinkling of freckles that was prominent every day of the year.

She smiled, throwing a devious wink in his direction. “As if they already don’t?”

Laying back on the cot as directed, she turned to the side so he could examine her torso. Luthor’s cold fingers gently probed the area around her ribs. Though barely visible against Lettie’s ruddy brown skin, the area was marred by a slight discolored shadow, with tenderness to match.

“Well, you were right, and lucky. No fractures or breaks, but the bone is bruised. That’s going to be significantly sore for the next couple weeks, but my diagnosis is that you’ll live.”

Luthor dropped her shirt and walked over to the shelves, where various vials and bottles were locked up, pulling a small ring of keys from his coat pocket.

“Not what you wanted to hear, I’m sure.”

Lettie feigned a mock gasp, setting her feet on the floor gingerly. “Why doctor! Was that a suicide joke?”

Filling a small plastic baggie with contents from the cabinet, he replaced the lock and returned to the cot.

“It was, don’t tell the other doctors. But seriously, Lettie, perhaps relax for a while on the punching bag roles. At least give it two weeks for the ribs and stitches to fully heal.” He handed the baggie of pills to her. “I can’t give you any of the good stuff, but these should help with the swelling and pain. Don’t take it all at once.”

Hugging him, Lettie quickly took the meds and headed toward the exit.

“Aye aye, doctor.”

***

Twenty-four hours later and properly medicated, Lettie stood examining her eye in the dirty little mirror. The fresh bandage hid the extent of the damage to her eyebrow but did nothing to draw attention away from her actual eye. Slight swelling remained behind the purple bruising. Her lip was healing a lot better and barely stung when she ran her tongue carefully over it. She threw a quick smile at her reflection and winced as the newly healed skin was pulled taut.

Departing from the solace of the public bathroom, Lettie made her way to the third floor of the building. The convention center was the hub of the colony, and as such the entire building continued to enjoy the rare luxury of electricity. The hydropower generated by the nearby Mountain Dell Dam circumnavigated to the colony’s center and immediately surrounding buildings, like the school and mess hall. Lettie was most familiar with the lower levels where various training areas and recon’s offices were situated among the other departments. Though the top floor of the building was reserved for Command, she’d grown accustomed to the level half a lifetime ago. Exiting the elevator, she gave a small nod to the man and woman who stood guard at the first pair of doors and continued to the next. Lettie knew that if she turned left, she would enter the familiar chamber that her mother’s inner circle used for their offices. Instead, she followed the worn multicolored carpet through the second set of doors and was greeted by a room full of people.

The room was brimming with chatter. No one halted or drew Lettie into their conversation as she pushed her way into a chair at the conference table. The faces in the room were all commonplace; similar to her parents, they had all been a part of OS since before the Impact. Their bonds dated back to the group’s founding as a budding attempt at fostering a safe space for Black families to flourish while facing the tribulations of White America, specifically suburban Washington, DC. Lettie could recall childhood stories about the Brothers and Sisters of Moses and the Colored Knights of Pythias, her father hollering proudly about OS’ roots in groups he claimed had weathered with time but morphed the very streets of DC they walked every day.

If she let herself sit and wallow, Lettie could even recall her late granddaddy boasting the Valentines’ ancestral relationship to Booker T. Washington himself, the boisterous man eventually working himself into a near attack trying to verbally relay the exact genetic tree branch. Her family’s involvement in the group since she could remember resulted in so many aunties and uncles, cousins and whatchacallums that at one point Lettie could hardly remember where the browns, blacks, and mochas of her own blood relatives ended and that of the neighbors’ began. OS was all she’d ever known, and its members prided themselves as a collective wary of a society intrinsically built to harm them. But of course, all that was when there was still an America to be wary of. Now, new members were happily welcomed into their ranks, even into the upper echelons, thanks to her mother’s insistence. However, this council was reserved for those who either had ties to founding members of OS or who proved themselves to hold the gang’s interest above all else. The group numbered fifteen, with Lettie and her two brothers being the youngest members of the board by a few years.

Shifting her head slightly at her daughter’s arrival, Regina left the smaller group she was conversing with and took her seat at the head of the table. Following her lead, everyone else quickly took their seats, and total silence ensued. Lettie glanced around at those already seated and did a double take when she didn’t see her younger brother at his usual spot across from her. Knowing her mother, the meeting’s leader had already clocked the fact that her youngest son was absent, but she gave no outward display of displeasure or surprise, manicured lips and brows placid.

“I’ve called you all here to discuss the recent events with the Lobos faction and subsequent information that’s been collected. At the conclusion of today’s meeting, we’ll need to decide our next course of action regarding where we stand with the continued invasion of outside gangs.”

She was silent for a moment to allow her previous statement to sink in.

“As most of you know, Lettie and her unit were dispatched outside our borders to intercept the Lobos and directed to gather as much information as possible on their primary motive for encroachment and progress made towards Salt Lake.”

Here, all eyes shifted toward Lettie, awaiting to hear her report firsthand. Though she’d been on the council approaching three years and had learned to hold her own, Lettie cleared her throat, a sudden tingle appearing at the recall of yesterday’s deviation from protocol.

“The mission’s debriefing can be found in the written report in my office.”

And just like that, she was off the hook. Lettie may have risked portions of the mission by making herself a last-minute addition, but her mom wouldn’t allow the fact to be questioned and potentially critiqued on record. Those few on the board who knew Lettie was not initially assigned to the mission wouldn’t question the intentional omission and those who didn’t know had no reason to want to read the full mission file, especially with Regina standing over their shoulder.

“The remaining members of the Lobos have been caught and questioned, along with the man who claims to be their leader. Roman?”

Lettie’s older brother stood and cleared his throat for extra effect. Unlike Christian and herself, who mirrored their father, Roman was an off-brand replica of their mother, the comparison betraying his enduring paternal childhood nickname, Junior. Though he wore a loose-fitting black sweater, the clothing did little to hide the curves of his defined arms. At 5’ 9” and north of 230 pounds, Junior was solid and top heavy like an oak tree, with dark skin only a few shades lighter than his black sweater. He kept his beard and hair clean-shaven and trimmed, making him seem older than his twenty-five years. Ever present, at least in public, Junior donned a black eye patch covering his right eye.

It’d been four and a half years since he’d lost his eye in a skirmish over resources with an enemy gang. It’d taken more than six months for him to learn to adjust to the loss of the organ, and though the injury did little to negatively impact his strength and confidence, it stood as a daily reminder for all of them on how quickly one could lose in the Colonies, Salt Lake included.

Since then, his role had evolved from field combat to leading recruitment for OS, putting him in charge of human resources, heavily influencing who was and was not welcomed to immigrate to the city.

“Silas knows nothing,” he replied, in clipped precise words. “Aside from a busted sat link containing a couple encrypted messages and some ramblings about the Devil coming, he’s useless. Same as the others before him. They were told to lead their gangs to our borders, rewarded with scheduled drops containing advanced tech and resources.”

“What were they told would happen once they reached the city?”

The question was voiced by a woman next to Lettie. Lettie speculated that LuAnn was somewhere in her mid-forties, though her flawless skin made any estimation of an accurate figure futile. African Vietnamese, her mixed background was hyper-evident in her combination kinky-straight black hair, which she kept tied up in a knot on top of her head, a bundle of escaped curls permanently dangling above her eyebrows. LuAnn oversaw the colony’s rationing and food resources along with her environmental engineer husband, Luce. Without their joint powerhouse of knowledge and leadership, the city’s food supply would have failed early on.

“Same as the others. Their only instructions were to get here. They weren’t told what to do upon arrival. It’s not—”

Lettie piped up with the first words she’d spoken since entering the room. “And the runners? Did we get anything useful from them?”

Junior looked at his sister distastefully, unimpressed with being interrupted, but replied, “They were tracked to a smaller farm, a day’s walk from where you found them. They’d burned most of the correspondence with whoever was giving them their orders, but we managed to grab a few of their hard drives before they could be damaged. Christian’s looking over it all as we speak.”

Lettie zoned in and out of an increasingly present migraine fog. Her recollection of administering that morning’s pill dosage was hazy. Junior continued diligently, answering various questions from around the table, most of them met with little to no new information. As the room went quiet again, signaling that there were no more questions for him, he let out a sigh and fidgeted with the band of the patch covering his right eye.

A male voice to the right interrupted Lettie’s thoughts.

“What will we do with the prisoners?”

“As the head of recruitment and initiation, I vote that all members of the Lobos are interrogated one final time and then executed.” Junior’s voice did not waver as the room broke into chaos.

“We can’t just kill them! You said yourself that they were following someone else’s orders, someone we still don’t know the identity of.” Lettie’s voice was not alone in its fervent eruption.

Junior’s voice rose, countering her statement. “That doesn’t override the fact that they entered our borders unannounced and armed! And let’s not forget that they held one of our own captive.”

“You don’t have to remind me, I was there, remember?” she stated sarcastically, pointing to her face.

“There’s no place here for a group of lawless criminals, Lettie.”

“Is it their lawlessness or that they don’t look like you and I?”

Junior narrowed his eyes at her from across the room and positioned his large hands on the table to stand, fixing his mouth to dispel something wicked.

“Sit. Down.”

The sharp words from Regina made Lettie flinch. Their mother had otherwise remained calm and silent during the uproar. Snarling, Junior stayed seated, fidgeting with the band of his eye patch.

Regina turned in the direction of LuAnn and Luce.

“I’m assuming there’s been no significant decline in our ration levels recently. There’s still enough food for everyone in the city?”

LuAnn nodded her head, “Yes, twofold.”

“Roman will interview the prisoners, with the aid of Malachi. Those who want to attempt joining OS and pass recruitment will be allowed to stay with a clean slate. Those who don’t are free to leave with the understanding that they are never to return at penalty of death. We will continue to collect intel and track any movement near our borders.”

With an air of finality, she rose and began to make her way through the doors at the rear of the room, which opened into her personal office, but not before delivering the lasting blow.

“And kill their leader.”

***

As Lettie stood in the city square outside the convention center, people came and went while the wind picked up any lingering sounds and stole them from their origins. It was midday and the gray skies and broad clouds blocked out any existing sun rays, leaving the streets covered in a somber drear. Despite living in Salt Lake for half her life now, it was moments like the present that made her miss DC. Everything was so fast paced there. Even prior to the Impact, it was difficult to picture the streets of the Utah capital bustling like those in DC, everyone rushing to catch trains, meet their own personal deadlines, time standing still for no creature.

Pulling her bomber jacket tighter and tugging her beanie further down to guard against the stinging wind, nimble legs carried Lettie quickly to her destination. Half a block away, Lettie stopped before the Capitol Theatre, its vintage Broadway sign lights faded to black, several of the intricate little bulbs missing. The still visible marquee advertised a romantic comedy that she tried to recall having seen before. Though she had little time for movies anymore, Lettie possessed a severe bias toward Spike Lee, Oscar Micheaux, William Greaves, Julie Dash, Antoine Fuqua, John Singleton, and Ava DuVernay, who was her favorite.

Largely responsible for her cinematic preferences, her father was a huge movie buff—give him the name of any movie and he could recount the year it was made, the starring headliners, and what director was the creative genius behind it. When they were younger, her mother would tease him, insisting Hollywood was where he got his ideas of grandeur, that he imagined his life as one big action movie, himself the hero, and Mom his sweet damsel in distress. Except, as Lettie later learned, it was never her mom who needed saving.

The lobby was dilapidated, chandeliers lay broken on the floor, the area covered in a thick layer of dust. All entrances to the inner proscenium had been secured shut with large chain locks. Lettie blew into her hands and bypassed the doors until finding the single, unlocked opening. Easily missed unless you knew to look for it.

Contrasting the anterior marquee and lobby, the actual theater remained in great condition. The red velvety seats remained intact, and the large drop-down screen had been retracted neatly, waiting for a feature film that would never come. The commercial projector had been picked off long ago. Small singular bulbs were the only source of light as Lettie made her way down to the stage area. The wooden stage was covered with discarded tools and machinery. There was a slight echo from her footsteps as she stutter-stepped through the shrapnel toward the back of the stage, ducking behind the thick velvet curtains.

Christian sat at the bottom of the steps behind a massive display of screens and modems, silhouetted by the eerie glow of blue light in the dark room. He wore massive headphones smooshed over his crown of brown curly hair, the thundering music escaping over the earpieces. Carefully, she crept up behind him and slammed her hands down onto slender shoulders, shaking him for added effect.

“I saw you on the security cams, stupid.” Spinning his chair, he pulled off the headphones and fixed her with a hard glare. They burst into laughter.

Lettie threw her body into the desk chair next to him and propped her feet onto the keyboard dash, retorting, “Can’t fault me for trying.”

He cocked one of his hairy eyebrows. “You look like shit,” he teased, matter-of-factly.

“Yes, well some of us actually have to go outside and interact with other human beings to earn our keep ’round here.”

“If that means said humans pummeling my face, I’ll pass,” he responded, knocking her feet off the stand. “I have zero qualms against remaining the only member of this family that doesn’t feel the need to go charging into trouble all the time.”

He wasn’t wrong. Three years younger than her, Christian was always more comfortable behind his screens and away from people, preferring to let others do the heavy lifting. He wasn’t lazy, having received the same combat training as she and Junior when they were younger; he just didn’t feel the desire to constantly bolster his own presence like the rest of their family. Christian was slender and tall, his just under 6’ 5” frame betraying him in most rooms. His natural, wavy afro added at least an additional three inches to his height when he wore it combed out. But Christian was steadfastly mild-mannered and reserved.

Today, he wore dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Lettie peered closer.

“You don’t look so hot either. When was the last time you slept?”

Rubbing his eyes roughly, he let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been scouring the laptop drives that were confiscated from the Lobos for the past forty-eight hours straight.”

On cue, he let out a yawn as evidence of his plight.

They both directed their attention to the screen of monitors, all humor set aside. Lettie focused on one monitor that was running a Matrix-like script in continuum.

Christian cleared his throat and pointed to it.

“I’ve hacked a lot of firewalls in my day, but this is by far the best code I’ve seen in a while.”

Lettie pursed her lips, trying to take in all the beeps and shifting screens.

“Find anything helpful?”

He paused for a long moment, the room falling silent.

“What is it, Christian?”

He hit a few keys on his keyboard, causing a new screen to appear on the largest monitor. She searched the screen, trying to understand what she was looking at, but it was gibberish.

“What am I looking at?”

“Right there.” He pointed a slender finger to a line of numbers and letters near the bottom of the screen. “It’s an IP address.”

“And that’s important because…?”

“I ran it through my program ten times, and it keeps pinging the same result.”

She paused for him to continue.

“It’s pinging back to somewhere on Cypheria.”

Focused, she nibbled her bottom lip, trying to make sense of his statement.

“Are you sure? I’ve been over all the files on the Lobos. They for sure don’t have a faction on Cypheria.”

“True, but maybe the resources and directives are being passed from an external source, one outside of the group,” he hesitated, the words coming out flatly.

“You mean an outside source like RCF?”

He dropped the half-put-together drive that he was fiddling with and dragged his hands through his hair, shrugging.

“We don’t know that yet. There are tens of thousands of people that reside on Cypheria, any of whom could be behind this.”

“But this is highly advanced encryption. You said it yourself.” Her mind accelerated a hundred miles a minute, the words tumbling faster. “How many people on Cypheria would you estimate have the capabilities to wield, let alone create this high a level of encryption? And I know they’re all doing a hell of a lot better than us up there, but only RCF has such an overabundance of resources to be able to give away freebies to some runt of the litter street gang. Holy shit, if this is all true—”

Lettie suddenly realized she was talking to herself. She turned around to see Christian sitting on his rickety frame bed in the corner. Clothes and gadgets were strewn haphazardly around him with an old guitar sitting at his side. She walked over carefully, picked up the instrument, and placed it on the floor before taking its spot next to him. The bed released an echoing creak under her added weight.

“What aren’t you telling me, C?”

“I’m running a program right now to pinpoint exactly where on Cypheria the ping is coming from. It’ll confirm if RCF is really behind all this or if it’s someone else.”

She waited silently for the other shoe to drop, not yet understanding the origin of his concerned tone.

“Those firewalls are trigger sensitive. If it really is RCF who the Lobos and all the other gangs have been corresponding with, then they’ll know that we know it’s them.”

In the earlier days of the Impact, when Cypheria was first being colonized, the off-world leaders struggled to figure out how to cultivate the land. Until they could find a means to do so, it became routine for resources from Earth’s remaining Colonies to be forcefully taken along with forced laborers. RCF, or the Renewed Citizens’ Front, rose from a grass-roots militia to the ruling government body overseeing Cypheria and the group at the forefront of the devastating initiative. Cities and villages were wiped out under the already difficult climate of Earth, and families were broken apart, parents and children disappearing into the atmosphere. Unlike their distant neighbors, it was OS’s united armed resistance that prevented similar mass destruction and pillaging in Salt Lake, a resistance that hadn’t been tested in half a decade.

For the sake of her brother, Lettie plastered on the most genuine smile she could muster and stood up, bringing her hood up around her head.

“No point in worrying about the what ifs until the results are in. Whatever the outcome, there’s someone up there leading our enemies to our city and we need to put a stop to it.”

She flicked his forehead and tousled his hair before he could intercept her hand.

“Radio me once it’s done and I’ll come back over.”

Chapter
3

Three weeks passed without incident or external invasion, and for a moment, things felt like they were returning back to normal within the city. Lettie’s face and stomach had healed nicely, though true to Luthor’s prediction, a raised scar remained splayed across her left eyebrow. She waited patiently in line with Tristan and several other members from their unit, shuffling forward as rations were handed out by various workers. Located near what was once one of the city’s malls, several stores and restaurants in the attached plaza had been knocked out and converted to a makeshift cafeteria. Though it was only a couple hours past dawn, the building was bustling, and Lettie had to focus to hear the words of those closest to her.

“I heard the Lobos’s leader was coordinating the whole thing, wipin’ out towns and takin’ names along the way.”

Tristan scoffed at the speaker as they took their plates and found some space at the back of the room. Their unit of twelve squeezed around the restaurant-style table and Tristan wasted no time scooping the servings of oatmeal, fruit, and bread off Lettie’s plate and replaced it with her own portion of bacon and eggs, leaving her friend with a double serving of both proteins. It was a grim time to be a vegan, but old habits remained hard to break.

“Bullshit. My father told me it’s something bigger than that, off-planet big.”

Tristan’s father, Malachi, was the head of security for OS and Lettie’s mother’s personal security guard. He could get in serious trouble if Command found out that he was passing confidential information, but Tristan knew no one sitting at the table would ever rat her out; they respected her too much.

“Besides, we all saw that sad spic. Dude could barely lead his own gang, let alone command the five other groups already captured.”

Lettie grimaced at the pejorative applied to the now-deceased Silas but said nothing, shoving a heaping bite of the salty bacon into her mouth.

Nico, the male member of the twin duo and the closest thing Lettie had to a best friend, spoke up. “Now what would Cypherians want with the Colonies? Other than slaves, we ain’t got nothin’ they want. ‘Sides, we all know them betas ain’t good at nothin’ but takin, not so much givin’.”

Next to him, his identical sister, Nyla, nodded her head in agreement.

As some of the first outsiders to turn up to Salt Lake after the Impact, Nico and Nyla had seen the fallout of RCF’s cruelty firsthand. Skinny and ashy, the pair stumbled into the city by themselves, hailing all the way from the muddy waters of Port Wentworth, Georgia. Even though the colony was still bare boned, word had already begun to spread about the food and security that OS could provide.

She and Nyla got along well enough, but it was Nico who Lettie immediately gravitated toward. It was he who provided a noncritical ear for her to unload on, somehow always possessing the ability to make a shitty situation feel less so. Between his laboriously cultivated muscles, full lips, thick eyelashes, and extroverted charm, he had no problems with the female population in the city. Nico was an accomplished playboy and an even better soldier, his brute strength garnering attention quickly over the years. Her best friend and third-in-command, Lettie counted Nico as family.

“What about you, Lettie? You’re part of the council, you gotta know something.”

She was unsure who had voiced the question, but when she looked up from her meal, all eyes around their table and a few from neighboring ones were glued to their unit’s leader. Among her oldest friends and mates, Lettie suddenly felt othered.

Before Lettie could form an answer, a wave of silence fell over the room as heads shifted to the front of the massive hall. She followed their gazes and spotted her mom and Junior standing before them.

With her voice carrying clearly throughout the room, her mother addressed the rumors that were presently the focus of Lettie’s table, and probably of most of the other groups in the building. The matriarch confirmed that the messages directing others to their city had originated on Cypheria. Calm, cool, and collected, she also affirmed that all messages had since been traced back to RCF. Lettie distractedly studied the faces of those around her as her mother’s final words relayed that Command would be deciding that night on their next course of action. And then she was gone, disappearing from the mess hall as quickly as she had appeared, Lettie’s older brother in tow. The room roared back to life within seconds, everyone digesting, regurgitating, and reshaping her mother’s words.

Unbeknownst to them was that the last speaker at the table had been correct in their assumption. Lettie, along with the rest of Command, had been informed of the news by Christian late last night. Even so, a lump formed in her throat hearing the announcement out loud in the presence of her fellow cohorts—the collective moment seemingly transforming the information from just another report to a very real threat that affected those she cared for.

Tristan noticed that Lettie alone remained speechless. She reached out, softly gripping one of Lettie’s hands over the table.

“It’s going to be okay. Command will make the right choice. You’ll make the right choices for us all.”

Lettie returned a soft smile, not wanting to worry Tristan or anyone else at the table more by her stoic reaction.

“Can I come over tonight?” Tristan whispered, leaning in, preventing the others from hearing.

“Yeah,” Lettie responded on autopilot, pushing her half-eaten plate away from her.

***

Lettie blew a cloud of breath between her hands before rubbing them back and forth in the hopes of creating warmth. The dying fire lay in the small makeshift chimney in the center of the room, a strung lantern providing the better light to see by. Lettie moved to add several logs to the fire, carefully stacking them to keep the flames going. Returning to her seat at the lookout window, she easily propped her boots on the lip of the sill, stretching her legs out languidly before blowing into her hands once more.

“Could be worse. Could be snowing,” the man next to her quipped.

Lettie was pretty sure the man went by Wyatt, but she wasn’t confident enough in her recollection of names to greet him with it when she’d entered the little guard station two hours prior.

“I like your attitude, Wyatt.” She side-eyed him, hoping it was the right one.

His blue eyes lit up along with a thin smile, confirming her guess. A small flat cap covered his blond hair, what little of it he had left.

“I’m glad someone does.” His smile faded a bit but didn’t disappear. “My wife used to get so upset with me. Said I was too optimistic, too much of a glass-half-full kind of guy. She thought I took the Elder’s sermons about good spirit too literal.”

His comment reeked of burbie roots. It was the elision in his accent that confirmed he was from the surrounding area. Wyatt did fit the categorization: pre-Impact Salt Lake City was comprised of 73 percent white residents and 3 percent Black, a fact that Lettie recalled reading in a beat-up Visit Utah 2211 pamphlet her father had handed her from the front seat on their migration West. The demographic skewed inversely after OS settled. Men like Wyatt were rarely admitted into OS, let alone permitted to man a security checkpoint early in the colony’s founding. All that changed under the control of Lettie’s mom.

The humor evaporated at the memory of Wyatt’s wife. Before silence could surround them, gunshots rang out behind the tree three hundred meters from them. Wyatt sprung to his feet, his hands rigid around the used Winchester rifle. Lettie rose slowly to examine the tree line through the cutout in the metal cocoon before quickly sitting again.

“It’s okay. It’s a hunting party. Not a threat.”

“How can you be sure?” he questioned, squinting his eyes looking for the source of the noise.

She brought her arm over to him, exposing her watch. “3:27 p.m. Hunting parties are scheduled to go out every day at 6:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. on rotation. This is the designated area for this week.”

Wyatt visibly relaxed, stowing his weapon on the table behind them. His immediate acceptance of her explanation surprised Lettie. She knew both from history and previous experiences that white adult men seldom reacted well to being advised by Black women, let alone one half their age.

“I haven’t been assigned to hunting patrol yet.” The positive, upbeat modulation was thick in his voice. “I wonder what they’re hunting out there. Never been one for nature.”

For the next twenty minutes they sat discussing the various common wildlife found in and around the city. Lettie explained and Wyatt listened, occasionally asking questions. She was in the middle of pointing out the differences between bait hunting and active hunting when she spotted two figures approaching.

She tapped Wyatt’s shoulder to let him know they had company as Junior and his companion entered the shelter, bringing with them an unpleasant draft of wind. The other man sat down without a word in Lettie’s newly vacated chair. Wyatt looked quizzically between Junior, herself, and their fourth guest.

“Roman, Wyatt. Wyatt, this is my brother, Roman.”

Like a true old school gentleman, Wyatt presented his hand for Junior to shake and then waited for someone to speak, his unspoken need to be given an order discernible within the air.

Junior indulged him, his baritone voice filling the intimate space.

“Nice to see you, Wyatt.” Expertly, Junior was careful with his words, maneuvering around the word “meet” as he was more than likely one of the first people to greet Wyatt during his initiation phase. “I need to borrow my sister for a moment.” He pointed to the other man. “Jesse will remain on watch with you.”

Wyatt sedately took his seat next to Jesse, both accepting their new arrangement, while Lettie followed Junior out of the shelter. They walked a few minutes in silence. Lettie’s bare hands smooshed into her pockets; his protected by a pair of tightly fit black leather gloves intertwined behind his back neatly.

“I met with Mom.” As usual, Junior was the first to speak and got straight to the point.

“And?”

“She’s convinced that we should sit back and do nothing in regard to the attacks by RCF.”

She made sure to keep her voice even, responding in like. “That’s what you’re calling them? Attacks?”

Junior halted his steps and faced her. “Yes. Because that’s what they are, Lettie. RCF purposefully sent hostile groups directly to our doorstep.”

“We still don’t know what their reasons for coming here were though. How do we know that they were coming to attack us?”

“How do we know they weren’t? RCF only knows one course of action, and that’s violence.”

She scrunched her shoulders against the wind and kept walking, forcing him to follow her if he wanted to continue the conversation.

“Why now? It’s been years since anyone from RCF has bothered us. Why the sudden change?”

“Salt Lake is blowing up, Lettie. You see the growth of people walking around the city, all members of OS, all working toward the common goal of sustaining and moving the city forward.” He no longer looked at her, focusing instead on a group of geckos skittering by their feet. “I see the numbers and logs every day: in the past six years alone, we’ve more than doubled in size. The colony is thriving.”

Lettie didn’t answer out loud, but they both knew he was right; her silence only confirmed his statements. She’d seen firsthand the boom that the city was currently experiencing. New recruits like Wyatt were a testament to that. Each day brought with it new faces. It’d been years since they’d had to worry about food shortages, due mostly to LuAnn and Luce’s extensive knowledge of vertical farming and biodynamic farming coupled with ample access to clean water for irrigation. Consequently, the current food rationing was unnecessary and a remnant from their founding, symbolic of control and discipline. The intel she’d collected over the years all but confirmed OS’s prevailing status among the other Colonies.

He continued, “Alone there ain’t no Lobos or anyone else down here who can stand against us, but backed by the Front? That’s a Trojan horse waiting to burn us.”

“What does Mom think of all this?” she questioned. Lettie continued to walk to keep the blood flowing through her legs, staving off the uncomfortable chill of the wind and conversation.

“She thinks we should be cautious about taking the offensive until we have confirmation of additional evidence.” The conductor-like gesturing of his hands in the air and his steely, robotic, clipped tone was mocking, affirming he was quoting their mom word for word.

“Command meets tonight. We’ll have a decision then.”

Junior’s patience finally cracked. He grabbed her arm, forcing them into a standstill.

“Mom runs Command,” he hissed. “If we leave it up to a random vote tonight, the others will be swayed to vote in agreement.”

Lettie pulled out of the vise grip of his large hand just as forcefully, their bodies inches apart. “Then why come to me?” she snapped.

He took a moment to compose himself, his eyes turning apologetic and pleading.

“Because I know that despite disagreeing on many things, you and I both want to protect OS at all costs. We can’t let these outsiders, off-world or local, take what we’ve built, what our father died defending. If you, me, Christian, and a few of the other council members speak up in favor of taking the offensive, I think we can sway the others to see our side.”

“You mean your side.”

Rubbing both hands over his beard in resignation, he continued, “I came to you as your brother, asking for your help in keeping our people safe. I’ve said my piece. It’s only a matter of time before another big dog tries to take what we got. And we’ve got to put them down before they do us. That time is now. I only hope that you and the others will see sense before it’s too late.”

With a pat and squeeze of her shoulder, Junior left her to mull over his request, the remaining geckos scattering in his wake. All company departed, the increasingly harsh winds enveloped Lettie, leaving her alone.

***

There was a sudden pounding, and it took Lettie a moment to remember where she was. In her haste and confusion, she dug her knuckle into her mending eye socket, rubbing the sleep from it, before the sharp pain caused by the pressure on the healing bruise made her regret doing so. She shuffled around for her watch atop the dinged glass coffee table and cursed when a stray canteen tipped over. Water overtook the table and Lettie moved quickly to rescue several unread paperbacks before they could be soaked. Setting the books on the floor, she finally located the navy tactical watch. The digital numbers read 7:06; the intended thirty-minute nap had turned into full-blown lethargy. The meeting with Command was in less than an hour. The visitor pounded the front door once more.

“What the hell, Junior,” she groaned deeply, rising from the living room couch.

The sound of Max’s barking intensified as she meandered to the door, trying to quiet her with a hand over her muzzle.

“Shh, girl.”

Instead of her brother standing behind the peephole, prepared for a last-minute attempt to sway her vote, Lettie recognized Tristan behind the little piece of glass, her locs tied up precariously on top of her head and a tactical flashlight shining up beneath her face. Their brief agreement to meet at that morning’s breakfast seemed days ago. Lettie unlocked the door and stepped back so Tristan could enter. Max wiggled her large body in circles, begging for pets. They’d come a long way from the shepherd’s instinct to pummel others upon contact. The Impact had created a lot of extra time for one-on-one dog training, among other things.

“Hey, big mama! Missed me that much, huh?”

Tristan indulged the dog with a quick set of pets on her head and then turned to Lettie. Though she would never admit it, Max terrified Tristan. She loathed being left alone with the large Australian shepherd.

“If only your owner showed me the same enthusiasm.”

“Ah ha, you’re hilarious.” Lettie’s voice was flat, but a throaty laugh escaped all the same.

The shorter woman threw her arms around the other’s neck, and Lettie let her plant a quick kiss on her cheek. Letting go, Tristan made her way into the kitchen and filled up one of the few clean glasses with water from the container on the counter. She took a large gulp and set it back down, empty.

“Sorry I’m late. I tried callin’ you on your walkie.”

“Yeah, that’s my bad. I knocked out longer than I planned.”

“No worries. I got called out to the Depot last minute. Some stupid kids got piss drunk and started throwing hands at each other over a card game. Can you believe that shit?”

Lettie shrugged. Even Salt Lake, the well-oiled ship that it was, still experienced good old-fashioned crime. When on duty, sentry units doubled as both guards and law enforcement officers. Where the gang was lenient on things like drinking, drugs, and solicitation, Command had little tolerance for crimes involving assault, theft, and wanton murder.

“You always get so lucky.”

Tristan smirked at the sarcasm in her voice and took the seat next to Lettie on the couch. Smoothing her hand down her leg, Tristan laid the other one on the headrest behind Lettie, who responded by reaching graciously toward the simmering fire in the chimney.

“Enough about me. How you been? Besides meals and training, I feel like I’ve hardly seen you in weeks.”

Quietly, Lettie mulled over Tristan’s statement. She was right; they’d not been alone together off-duty since before preperation for the Lobos mission.

Taking her silence as agreement, Tristan continued, “Your eye looks a lot better than it did. Is that the best that scar is going to get?”

Lettie smoothly maneuvered her face to avoid the incoming hand as Tristan attempted to fuss over the wound. “Looks like it, yeah.”

Resigning to stand instead, Lettie crossed and uncrossed her hands across her chest, unsure of what to say next. A cropped white tank and thick pajama pants that hung slightly off her waist, Lettie had never been modest in front of others. Even when her body had morphed from lanky and angular into muscled curves, she’d leaned into the transformation, especially in front of Tristan. Suddenly, it was more than the cold draft in the room that made Lettie wish she’d thrown on a sweater. As the silence grew, Lettie beckoned Max toward her, and the dog complied eagerly, gratefully giving Lettie’s hands something to do.

“You still never apologized, you know?”

Lettie looked quizzically at the woman on the couch, unsure of where the line of questioning was going.

“For jeopardizing my mission.” Tristan’s words were delivered so assuredly that Lettie couldn’t help but scoff.

“Your mission?”

“Yeah, my mission. I only prepped that team for weeks on the Lobos, assembled everything down to the smallest detail. Shit, I spent—”

“You may have been assigned as squad leader for this specific assignment, but don’t forget who runs this team, T. I busted my ass collecting the intel you needed to coordinate that entire thing!”

All joking and sarcasm was gone from Tristan’s voice, replaced by a heavily accented lilt, betraying her rising emotional toil. “I was supposed to take point on the house, and you step in at the last minute, all silent and shadowy, no backup. It should have been me in that basement first, not you.”

“You want me to apologize for taking your place of getting your ass kicked?” Lettie scoffed, pointing to her eye. “Is this really what you wanted for yourself?”

Tristan was up off the couch and her hands waved in the air, dramatically. “You always act like you’re the only one who can get the job done. That mission was my best chance to prove to my dad that I’m ready. To prove to your mom that I have what it takes to be a part of Command—that we are equals.”

Hopping onto the kitchen island counter, Lettie crossed her legs and looked her in the eye. “I won’t risk a member of my unit—any member—being killed because of silly rankings and turf wars. Not while I’m around and have a say in it.”

The words had barely escaped her mouth before Tristan responded, her voice alarmingly even.

“Turf war? This is bigger than that and you know it. We gotta protect our own. And don’t you dare give me that commanding officer bullshit. You lost the right to play the ‘give a shit card’ when you broke up with me.”

The elephant in the room deflated as they both thought back to three months ago. The scene eerily similar to now, Tristan on one side of the room, tears close to eruption, and Lettie on the other, staring at the floor, stuck in her head. Lettie repeated the line she’d used that night, the first response that came to her mind.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Tristan.”

The air between them momentarily defused, Tristan closed the space between them and gripped Lettie’s hands in hers.

“Then don’t hurt me. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your head. Let me in.”

Lettie dipped her head, unresponsive and unable to meet the other woman’s gaze. Tristan lifted onto her tiptoes to try matching Lettie’s taller frame. Her voice was muffled in the fabric of Lettie’s shirt, making it difficult to make out her next words.

“You owe me that.”

One of Tristan’s thick locs fell forward, tickling Lettie’s nose, but she didn’t move. The weight of the moment froze Lettie rigid. She knew in her heart that as easy as it would be to surrender to her childhood friend, the personal cost made it impossible. The request wasn’t an insensible one, given everything they’d shared. Lettie had known since the first time they’d laid together in the next room over, holding each other in the hopes of making sense of this new world together, that their frequencies were slightly missing each other. She’d known it when Tristan told her she loved her for the first time and Lettie repeated it back to her, shoving the gnawing feeling in her chest lower. And she knew it now, as she pulled away, prepared to lose someone she cared greatly for once she shared her truth.

“Tristan, I can’t—”

The words were engulfed by a high-pitched wailing from outside. They broke apart, moving to the windows to investigate as their radios crackled to life. The citywide warning system wailed in the background, repetitive sirens on both ends making it impossible to decipher the transmission. Lettie grabbed Tristan’s radio from where it had been abandoned on the coffee table.

“Repeat for Lettie. Over.”

“We’ve got multiple unknowns at the South gate! They are armed, I repeat, they are armed!”

“Copy. How many of them are there?” The response took longer than she would have liked, but the voice finally returned.

“Couple hundred, minimum. We need backup now! They are starting to—” The signal faded in and out and then finally went dead. Lettie twisted various knobs, trying the radio two more times before giving up. Turning to Tristan, she tossed the radio to her. Lettie gathered her jacket, walkie, and bulletproof vest from her room before meeting her friend in the front hallway. Lettie grabbed her rifle from Tristan’s outstretched hand, and the two walked out of the apartment, abandoning their personal skirmish in exchange for an unknown hostility.

***

The checkpoint was one of controlled chaos, threatening to burst free at the slightest provocation.

The gate was one of OS’s larger checkpoints, protecting the South flank of the city, and was outfitted with additional fortifications. Mobile floodlights drowned the surrounding area in harsh light, and a strategically designed battlement fashioned out of salvage and sandbags ran the length of the structure, rendering those on the outside at a disadvantage. Reaching the interior of the checkpoint shelter, Lettie and Tristan found a few men and women lying face down on the ground with their hands zip tied behind their backs: a guard stood watch, his weapon swaying back and forth, holding aim at each of them in turn, ready to stifle any sudden resistance. Tristan jumped off the back of the motorcycle, and Lettie nodded in the guard’s direction.

“Go see what that’s about and figure out who they are. We stand our ground, but no one shoots without being shot upon first or unless you say otherwise.”

Her second-in-command bobbed her head in understanding and was gone without a word.

Lettie snaked through the guards, standing on high alert, awaiting orders. Though she couldn’t see them, Lettie could hear the intruders on the other side of the barricade, and her racing heart steadied slightly at the absence of gunfire. Upon arrival at the top of the makeshift catwalk, Lettie looked over the other side. A mass of people congregated, pushing forward, surging to get through the gate. They were mostly men and women, but Lettie noted that there were also children littered throughout the mob, clinging to pant legs and shirttails. Heavy footsteps clanged on the metal, breaking her concentration. She turned as Nico approached her position, the features on his face instantly relaxing as he spotted her.

“Nico, what happened here?”

“Some of the guys were on watch when they saw ’em, a small group headin’ up the road. I was layin’ up in the bunks on break when they buzzed to come check it out. Shit, by the time I got up here, they’d ’bout doubled.”

Between his rapid delivery and thick Coastal accent, she had to concentrate to make out what he was saying.

“I’m guessin’ they sent a scoutin’ group and rushed us when they saw the checkpoint.”

“Any casualties?”

His dark eyes darted over the barricade, surveying the group. “Yeah, two. Theirs. They got bold and tried shootin’ out the lights, so Nyla dropped ’em. I think most of ’em is unarmed, but there’s for sure enough out there strapped to cause a problem if it comes to that.”

“Well then, let’s not let it come to that.”

Lettie looked over the barricade a last time, confirming Nico’s assumption. Most of the group held various bags and home goods, but she still took note of the assortment of readied weapons.

She looked back at him. “Is Nyla still up top?”

The nineteen-year-old Georgian was one of the best snipers they had to offer and could mow down ten men with a single clip in half as many minutes.

“Yeah, told her to sit tight and report any trouble on the walkie.”

Lettie turned to head up the stairs when Nico continued.

“One more thang, L. We picked up ol’ dude who was with that scoutin’ party. Man’s claimin’ to be the leader of our new friends here. I paged Malachi and your mom; they’re pullin’ together reinforcements from the North, but he’s demandin’ to talk to somebody.”

“Next time start with that kind of information, Nico. Take me to him.”

***

Lettie trailed Nico with two other guards five hundred meters back the way Tristan and she had come, stopping at a congregation of cookie-cutter houses. Smaller than the outpost they’d just left, this area was reserved as a secondary checkpoint location, in case the first was to ever be overrun. Like most of the suburban homes in and around the city, the paint covering the outside of the homes had begun to peel, and their broken windows were reinforced with wooden planks, giving the buildings an eerie ghostly presence. Nico led their group to the small shack of a house at the end of the cul-de-sac. A modest living room opened up before them, housing a few chairs and bare tables, most of the space reserved for supplies and ammo. The house was silent as they made their way down a narrow hallway to enter a dimly lit kitchen, illuminated by several lanterns spread out over the counters. Lettie’s eyes were immediately drawn to the chair in the middle of the room. In it sat a man, medium build, top heavy, the bag over his head preventing her from making out any of his facial features. Lettie cocked her head, and the two men that flanked him deserted the room, replaced by herself and Nico, who took up position behind his unit leader. Lettie quickly mentally recapped all the information relayed to her on the walk over by the guard responsible for the detaining. She glanced over her shoulder at Nico, and he nodded his head knowingly, lifting his rifle and pointed it at the stranger in the room. Lettie crouched in front of the chair and ripped the hood off, leaving her face-to-face with the man.

“Who are you and what do you want? Answer me truthfully or my friend here makes sure you never say another word again. You have thirty seconds.”

His face and shirt were drenched in sweat and the fear in his eyes was potent, dousing the room in uneasiness. Aside from what looked like old bruising around his neck and a few fresh scratches on his face, the man seemed to have remained unscathed on his journey to the room.

“Please, I have already told everything to the other man. I swear it!”

“Twenty-five seconds.”

“Okay, okay, my—my name is Isaac. I am from Phoenix. We all are!”

“Lies. Where are you really from?” Lettie’s voice was flat, arms crossed.

“I don’t lie! We’re from Phoenix, Arizona. Please, let me see—”

“You’re lying. Because Phoenix is almost seven hundred miles from here and that’s almost a month’s trip on foot. Toxic waste pockets and rogue burbies aside, there’s no way a group that big, with that many civilians and children, is making that trip alive.” Lettie stood, feigning her departure from the room. “Shoot him.” She motioned nonchalantly toward the man.

Nico made a show of taking aim and slid his index finger over the trigger.

“Please! Please, please, I’m not lying to you. I have no reason to.”

A saturated sheen began to form on his face, despite the frigid temperature in the house, and his words wavered, fear choking them. From the way his body trembled, Lettie knew he’d tell them nothing but the truth and raised her hand, signaling Nico to stand down.

Removing a knife from her boot holster, she walked behind the chair and cut the man’s hands free, not before noticing the multitude of calluses covering his palms and familiar grease-packed fingernails. He massaged his wrists gingerly and then placed his hands palm down on either thigh, attentively staring at his captors, waiting to see what they’d do next. Lettie let the silence build, and it wasn’t long before he broke under the weight of it.

“Can…can I see my daughter now? She’s all I have.”

“You pulled weapons on our people at our own gates, your daughter in tow. I’d say she’s safer upstairs.” Lettie corralled a second chair in front of him, removed her rifle from her back, and laid it on the table behind her. “No one is going anywhere until you tell me what a Mongrel mechanic is doing in OS territory.”

He didn’t attempt to hide his surprise at her assertion, instead studying the woman before him, glancing between Nico and her.

“I am no Mongrel, I am Hoodou. And I’m a weapons engineer, not this ‘mechanic’ you say. And you are Regina Valentine then, yes?

“No. Regina is my mom. Now it’s my turn, Isaac. Why are you here?”

Even under duress, he was smart enough to catch on to her address of the larger foreign collective outside the dilapidated house.

“The—we were forced to come. Our colony…our colony was destroyed.”

Lettie examined his face for any hint of deception but found only genuine sadness and wariness. Large bags filled the space under his eyes, and his tanned face was covered in dirt and peeling skin, chapped from severe wind gusts. The man looked as if life had beaten him down and then stood him back up again for a second pounding.

“I’ve heard stories about your city. They call it ‘Desert Haven.’ Over ten thousand strong with citywide electricity, crops up to your eyeballs, and—shit, some even say you have no crime. A place like that doesn’t just disappear overnight.”

“It does if RCF wants it to.”

His jaw was set, his gaze suddenly spaced out. He shook his head hard, physically trying to clear the remnants of whatever flashback he’d inhabited. “RCF…RCF attacked our home. It—they—their bombs wiped out our crops and defenses. Once that was done, they came down from their ships and killed anyone stupid enough to continue fighting back—they were unforgiving. Our soldiers, builders, and doctors—any that survived—they were all taken back to Cypheria. And the rest—the unlucky ones—RCF sentenced us to death, left to either starve or die from our wounds.”

“Why Salt Lake though? Why come here?” She glanced down at his boots, the dusty leather material practically disintegrating around his feet. “And how?”

“We heard rumors of groups making their way here seeking refuge. There was no—we didn’t know what else to do.” He paused, realized he’d not answered the entire question, and continued, “Some of our vehicles survived the attack—school buses, vans, bikes, they helped carry most of our group. Once we ran out of gas, we continued on foot.”

Before Lettie could fully process Isaac’s words, Nico blurted out, “How many is y’all?”

Isaac shifted his eyes toward Nico, studying him hard before answering. “237.”

“How many did y’all start off with?” Skipping a beat, Nico voiced the question they were all thinking.

“545. 545 people started the trek.” Isaac didn’t hesitate, his voice the strongest it’d been since Lettie removed his hood. “If you mean our entire colony though, your friend here is right. Last I knew, our people numbered about twelve thousand.”

Rubbing her hands over her face, Lettie turned to look at Nico. His face mirrored her own, doubtless belief that Isaac was telling the truth.

She turned back to face Isaac, pulling the radio from her belt. “It’s Lettie. Bring down the girl.”

Isaac’s face lit up immediately at the words. The rickety house filled with the clamber of quick footsteps as the girl ran into the room, launching herself into Isaac’s arms.

“Baba!”

“Habibi! Come here.”

The girl couldn’t have been any older than fourteen or fifteen, and her face mirrored his even covered in dirt and grime. Lettie grappled against the shudder that rippled through her body at the thought of the horrors that the girl had seen at the hands of RCF.

After a few minutes, Lettie stood to leave and addressed Isaac, interrupting the family’s fleeting reunion. “You’ll be escorted into downtown where you and your daughter will be held with the others who have been detained. You’ll be fed and given water there in the meantime.”

“What about the rest of my people at the gate?” He stood as well, holding the little girl by the shoulders tightly. “They’re exhausted and wounded. Some need oxygen.”

“I don’t have the authority to allow them access to the city. I’m—” She bit her tongue, the attempt to justify her inability to help him and his people falling off. “They will remain outside the gates until further decisions can be made.”

Chapter
4

Sunrise was less than an hour off by the time things had settled down enough for Lettie to be relieved and she gratefully returned home. Heavy legs slowly carried her up to the top floor loft and Lettie threw her body down on the couch, sighing in momentary respite. Max was already out of her bed, wiggling with excitement at Lettie’s return. No sooner had Lettie unlaced and slipped her boots off when a sharp yet clipped knock sounded in the small foyer. Before she could move to intercept the door, Regina walked in and Max quickly lost interest in Lettie, greeting the newcomer with renewed vigor. As Regina made her way into the living room and took a seat across from her daughter, she and Lettie studied each other, unmoving.

At forty-two years old, Lettie’s mother was only twenty years her senior, and if her solid figure and native beauty hinted in any way to Lettie’s own expectation of what was to come, she didn’t hate her odds. Despite the night’s fallout, Regina’s love of color coordination persisted. Tonight, she donned a loose purple jumpsuit tucked into brown suede boots. The matriarch wore her hair in twists, intricately styled in a low bun at the nape of her neck. A tactical vest was draped over her ensemble, confirming that she’d returned from dealing with their new guests.

Neither woman spoke, skipping several beats, letting Max’s sudden and heavy snores fill the space between them.

“Lettie. The door. The locks are there for a reason.” Max lay at her feet as she spoke the words simply—not angry, not annoyed.

“There’re only, like, seventeen other people that live in this building, and most of the other rooms on this floor are empty,” Lettie rationalized to her.

“Please just do it, Leticia.”

Regina’s use of her daughter’s first name commanded Lettie’s explicit focus. The features Lettie didn’t ordinarily bother to pay attention to, now illuminated by a few low-burning gas lamps, stood out to her clear as day. Advanced instances of her fatigue spoke within them. Smooth lines adorning oiled lips and forehead. Darkening circles under her oval eyes, and the slight slouch of deep shoulders. They were a physical collection of fissures that housed the stresses burdening the woman, whether from tonight in particular or life Lettie couldn’t say for sure.

“I’ve had the chance to speak with Mr. Figueroa. Thank you for seeing to him in my absence. He spoke highly of you. And his story has been corroborated by the others we’ve detained.”

Lettie let her words sink in. “So, what happens now?”

A slight smile spread across her face, amused by something that evaded her daughter. “Command decides whether these people get to stay or are sent away.”

“You mean if they live or die.”

“Neither of those outcomes lies within our control.”

“If we send them away, we’ll be sentencing them to death. All of them. There will be no more Hoodou.”

“And if they stay, we risk sentencing ourselves to the same fate. Do we trade the survival of the Hoodou for own extinction?”

“That’s—”

Regina cut Lettie off as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “That will be the logic certain members on the council will resort to.”

Lettie knew the answer to her next question, but she asked anyway. “You know about Junior coming to talk to me the other night?”

“Indeed.” Regina leaned her head back, studying the ceiling for several moments before continuing her thought. “In his moment of ambition, Junior seems to have forgotten who remains the head of this colony. Several that he spoke to passed the information back to me, whether to gain favor or revel in gossip I’m not sure. But the end remains the same.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner,” Lettie carefully muttered.

Lettie bit her thumb cuticle, suddenly uncomfortable at the receiving hand of her mother’s perceived talking-down-to. Fighting instinct, she smothered the urge to get up and seek relief from the tension.

“I’m not telling you this to chastise you for not coming to me.” Her mother’s unfocused gaze suggested that she wasn’t really addressing Lettie but rather speaking out loud to herself.

“I would never ask you to betray your bond with either of your brothers for me to save face. Besides, a mother knows her children—sometimes better than they know themselves.”

She stopped herself from elaborating and got up to fix herself a drink from the kitchen’s bottom cabinet. Though Regina’s knowledge of the stash’s location surprised Lettie, she remained silent. Lettie could recall only two times that she’d seen her mother drink hard liquor: the day the youngest and final Valentine was promoted to Command, and the day her husband died. Outside of the occasional glass of celebratory wine, rarely did she indulge.

Regina held the bottle out with a shake to Lettie. She shook her head quickly, declining the offer. Something told her she’d want to be sober for what was to come next.

Returning to her seat next to Max, Regina continued. “Your brother isn’t the only one who shares the belief that we should close our borders to further outsiders. If it were up to them, we’d wall the city off and bury our heads in the dirt, ignorant of the problems of anyone not lucky enough to be Obsidian.”

Lettie picked her next words carefully, understanding the underlying volatility of the conversation. Family matters were not supposed to interfere with Command. Their mother was supposed to place her role as leader before that of parent. Though she toed the line between matriarch and mother, familial drama occasionally seeping into official duty, Lettie knew her mother valued her position in the OS and would always put the safety of the city above all else.

“I don’t get how they can be so quick to condemn an entire group to death on something as stupid as the way they look! Junior and whoever he’s sweet-talked to his cause, they’re speaking out of fear and ignorance, nothing else. It—it’s not right, history be damned.” Her voice trailed off, the room falling silent once again.

“I see so much of your father in him. He doesn’t have the same bite as your father, I know you remember that well, but he tries. Every day his quirks and habits seem to take more and more after that man.”

Lettie knew the alcohol was beginning to take effect from the free flow of her mother’s words on a subject which she never spoke of.

“Only in a world that gave us the Impact does it make sense that Junior also has the same parts of Allister that your father did.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I pray to any god still listening that those parts of him don’t lead him, lead any of you, the way they led your father. I won’t let that same vileness take my children as well.”

And just like that, both their truths were spoken. Lettie questioned the caliber of the people she loved and the place she’d come to call home. Meanwhile, her mother blamed Allister for the death of her father and still worried that his lingering prejudices would somehow bring about the same fate for Junior. The sudden disclosures left Lettie even more confused than when she had walked into the room.

Max released a succession of light yaps in her sleep, interrupting. The Aussie’s dream barks seemed to have a sobering effect on the other woman because suddenly Regina sat her emptied glass on the table. Rubbing her hands down her pants and pulling her scarf tighter around her neck, she stood as her daughter processed what she had heard.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you back.” Lettie stood to pull her boots on, following her mother’s lead.

“No need. I’ve doubled the amount of personnel on duty tonight.”

“Well, at least let me get someone downstairs to walk with you.” She didn’t fuss as Lettie radioed downstairs to one of the on-duty guards.

A small yet telling smile played at Regina’s lips. “Maybe they’ll be lucky enough to see me stumble home; that’ll make for an amusing story in the morning.”

Lettie walked over to Regina near the door and embraced her tightly, hoping that the pressure would rid her mom of some of the burden she carried. The hug was reciprocated twofold, and they stood like that for a while, unmoving.

“I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

Releasing her, Lettie watched as Regina exited the apartment and locked the door firmly behind her.

***

Despite being in the inner atrium of the convention center, large windows allowed early morning rays to penetrate the conference room, harsh shadows decorating the plain beige walls. Unlike their last meeting, all fifteen members of the council were present, including Christian.

“Since we’re all here a few minutes early we’ll go ahead and get started.”

Neither Valentine woman brought up the gapingly fresh revelations from their nightcap, instead the only assurance on her mother’s part that the conversation had even taken place was an extra-long squeeze of Regina’s hand upon Lettie’s shoulder. Apart from the non-verbal acknowledgment, Regina was back to business as normal, moving to take her usual place at the head of the packed conference table.

Voices instantly hushed and the room went silent as the council was addressed.

“As you all know, last night refugees from the Hoodou’s colony in Phoenix arrived at our gates seeking asylum. Their city has been destroyed at the hands of RCF. We can only assume that Salt Lake is a potential next target. Up until this point, our skirmishes with RCF have included the interception of resources and resistance of forced labor upon ourselves, and others, all of which were small-scale in terms of totality. But after last night, we have the misfortune of finding ourselves in a new territory, one that requires we decide whether to go on the offensive and strike first or continue to hold the defensive, fortifying our position.”

Her voice remained level, her features relaxed yet focused, giving away little indication of personal bias or emotion. “Be aware: this situation is further complicated by the fact that we now have 235 individuals for whom we must also decide whether to allow into our city or turn away. These are the two matters that I put before you and of which we will take a vote on at the conclusion of this meeting. The floor is open.”

Sitting back in her chair, Regina stared at the back of the room, calmly awaiting a response from anyone.

Whispers of surprise were audible as LuAnn broke the silence first. With her shoulders squared back, her clear soprano voice bellowed across the table. It was obvious she’d given some serious thought to what she was about to say.

“Due to my role within our resources division, I’m afraid I cannot yet speak on the matter of an all-out assault or fortification, but for the question of what should be done with the newcomers to our city, I’d like to think that my role provides me with specific, critical insights.” She took a moment to look at her husband seated next to her, who nodded his head approvingly, urging her on. “Luce and I wholeheartedly believe that the refugees should be given the same opportunity to stay as those before them. We went over the numbers twenty times last night, and if we ration smartly our reserves should be more than enough to feed everyone for the next two months. As long as we increase production within the next couple weeks, we should be able to bounce back from the initial dip in food stores fairly quickly.”

“I agree with LuAnn and Luce.” This time it was Luthor who’d spoken up. “As cruel as it may sound, the Hoodou’s long trip here may have been a blessing in disguise. Their trek resulted in many casualties, most of who were elderly or sick.” Luthor halted, seemingly at odds with his next words but continuing nonetheless. “It’s certainly a cruel example of Darwinism, but efficient all the same. There’s no way our clinic could have dealt with the influx of new patients had their numbers not been significantly diminished, but given the demographic of those who were able to make it here, it shouldn’t be difficult to adequately treat those who need it.”

Following the duo’s lead, a procession of other members spoke in favor of accepting the refugees. The Valentines listened silently as one after another, the same rhetoric was reflected. Lettie found it impossible to ignore the sound of Junior’s fingers tapping rapidly on the tabletop, increasing in velocity and volume between each speaker.

A voice to her immediate right finally managed to disrupt Lettie’s attention from her older brother’s growing agitation.

“What those cowards in the sky did to those people is God awful, there’s no doubting that, but you’re missing the point, Luthor. Now, it’s my duty to keep this city safe. And that means from every threat: each other, other gangs, and any other shit that rears its head. I think it’s only fair that we talk ’bout the very real likelihood that if we take in these refugees as our own, RCF will take that as a direct insult and find reason to retaliate with an attack on Salt Lake. That’s not something I’m willing to risk.” Here, Malachi directed his attention entirely toward Regina at the head of the table. “To protect ourselves, it is my firm recommendation that we turn the Mongrels away.”

Like his daughter, Malachi’s skin was a deep, dark brown and an array of locs sprung from his head, the edges of his hair sprinkled with salt-and-pepper gray and tied back with a standard office rubber band. Unlike Tristan, though, his body was covered with scars of various length, color, and healing, the worst being a noticeable divot that sat in the middle of his forehead. Originally brought into OS a few years after Lettie’s parents, Malachi used to be a part of the Jamaica Defence Force as captain of a special forces unit until he was dishonorably discharged, at least according to Tristan. All of that was before he immigrated to America, where he met Tristan’s mother, who later died giving birth to her. A hard ass most of the time, but damn good at his job, Malachi’s role as head of security for OS garnered him a large amount of respect and support within the organization. Though Lettie also revered his presence as Tristan’s only remaining parent and protector of OS, her curious, defiant nature often found her at odds with her mom’s personal guard.

Though Malachi was good friends with both her father and Allister, OS’s previously exiled leader, Lettie had never witnessed or heard whisperings of anything but loyalty from him under her mother’s leadership. Surprised by Malachi’s decisive words given his own personal history with emigration and xenophobia, Lettie glanced across the table, searching for a sign that her brother had gotten hold of Malachi’s ear.

“They go by Hoodou, not Mongrel.” Despite years of knowing each other, the man still intimidated her, but Lettie forced her eyes to hold Malachi’s as she corrected him. “And why would RCF retaliate against us for taking them in if the Front was the one who directed them here in the first place?” She ensured he knew her question was directed at him alone.

“According to them. We can’t be sure they’re telling the truth. What if—”

“Perhaps we should travel to Phoenix ourselves and ask the corpses of those who were there,” she said, cutting him off before he could finish. The blatant show of disrespect to her elder did not go unnoticed, but Lettie ignored the admonitory throat clearing from her mother at the head of the table.

Before the security captain could respond, Junior spoke. He was a natural orator. Even though it was Lettie who had spoken out of turn, his words were directed at the entire table, demanding his audience’s attention.

“I think what Malachi is trying to say is that we would be foolish to put the needs of these people, who up until several hours ago were our enemy, above the needs of our own. You may let your emotions cloud your judgment, but the fact of the matter is that we don’t know if RCF is coming for us next or not. Everyone in this room knew it was only a matter of time before the Cypherians returned to our doorstep. The question now is whether we willingly let them do to us what they did to Phoenix or if we take the fight to them.”

Lettie cut the heavy air his words left and countered, “This isn’t about us versus them. This isn’t even about Cypheria or RCF. This is about people, human beings, and if we send those people away, we are condemning them to death. It’s that simple. RCF may have brought them here, but we have the opportunity to step up and give them a chance. We all heard it right here from LuAnn, Luce, Luthor, and the others—we have the ability and means to save these people, Junior. We are no better than those who brought them here if we do any differently.”

All eyes turned to Junior, awaiting his response. Their silence was an acknowledgment of either sibling’s respective representation of the debate’s opposing sides.

Pushing his chair back, Junior stood. “We can’t be sure that the numbers will hold as estimated.” He planted his hands atop the table, leaning forward. “And even if we could, that doesn’t take into account that we’ll have to allocate resources upfront to their people, resources that could and should be directed elsewhere, like bringing the fight to RCF.”

Waving his hand slightly in the air to get everyone’s attention, Christian spoke for the first time. “I…I don’t understand why they shouldn’t get the same offer of initiation that the other gangs before them got, just saying…” He trailed off.

Junior sighed dramatically. “Well for one, little brother, 235 is a lot different than a few Lobos stragglers. Plus, inducting that many people at once is no easy task; you’d know that if you ever came out of your lair.”

“Back off, Junior,” Lettie growled a warning. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Christian fidget in his chair, silent.

“For someone so outspokenly in favor of war, you’ve forgotten to address a significant hitch, Roman.” Luthor spoke once more.

“And what would that be, doctor?” Junior’s scoff was full of disdain.

“How are we supposed to attack an enemy that we can’t reach? We have no way of getting off-world.”

Of course, Luthor was right. It was a simple but major obstacle in Junior’s scheme, one that Lettie had completely overlooked in her moment of anger. OS possessed none of the advanced technology and transportation needed to reach Cypheria light-years away.

“That’s where you’re mistaken, doc,” Junior replied, a smirk growing across his face. His quick response suggested that he had planned for the question. “But don’t let me spoil the surprise. Christian? Want to jump in here, or should I keep going?”

All eyes were suddenly directed at Christian, including Lettie’s, awaiting him to elaborate. When the youngest Valentine didn’t answer immediately, his eyes glued to the table, Junior continued, turning his gaze toward their mother.

“There are some things that have yet to be shared with this council, let alone OS as a whole. Mom, why—”

“That’s enough.” Regina’s voice cut the air, causing the almost physical electricity in the room to quell. Whatever his point, her icy tone ensured that it would not be addressed further, at least not in that moment. “We’ve heard all that we have time to hear, more than enough to come to a decision on the matters at hand.”

She held every gaze from around the table. Despite the meeting entering its third hour, any signs of weariness and slouched shoulders were called to attention by the hard stare.

“Now we put it to a vote. Those in favor of dislodging the Hoodou from Salt Lake, please raise your hand.”

Junior and Malachi’s hands shot into the air with five others trailing their lead. Lettie had to dig deep to hide her surprise and annoyance that her older brother’s insane ravings were able to garner any votes.

Regina nodded, and the seven lowered their hands. “And those in favor of allowing the Hoodous entrance into the city?”

Lettie’s hand shot into the air, along with LuAnn, Luce, Luthor, and two others. Delayed, Christian hoisted a lanky arm into the air, bringing the count to seven.

“The result is a tie.”

Lettie studied her mother’s face to unearth any trace of disappointment or satisfaction but was left wanting.

“In lieu of another hour of debate and a revote, mine will be the deciding vote. Given our calculated ability to assist the Hoodou,” she glanced at LuAnn and Luthor, “they will be afforded the same opportunity extended to their predecessors. We screen those who want to stay and allow those who desire to leave to do so, with the understanding that those who stay must pass the initiation phase and that those who leave will not be welcomed back under any circumstances.”

Junior’s scowl conveyed his unhappiness with the result, but he crossed his arms in anticipation of their mother’s next words, the ones that held the fate of them all.

“In the matter of RCF, we will not move forward with any active show of aggression.”

Junior was immediately on his feet, his chair toppling backward, his voice raised, “But you can’t just—”

“I can, and I did. And you’ll do well to remember who you’re speaking to. I am head of this council, not you.”

The opening and closing of his mouth betrayed that Junior wanted to say more, but even he knew better and instead moved to stand at the back of the room, doing little to hide his frustration and embarrassment.

“Increased manpower will be directed at fortifying the city. LuAnn and Luce will increase the number of hunting parties and make sure our food stores are maintained. Malachi will double our sentry units until further notice. Lettie will coordinate with Christian on increased surveillance and resource runs. If RCF means to attack our city, we’ll be ready. Please disperse this information to your respective units. I’ll be available later today should anyone have any additional questions. Is that understood?”

Everyone but Junior answered in the affirmative.

“Meeting concluded. Please give me the room.”

A few minutes passed as those around Lettie moved to leave the room, chairs clattering and conversations igniting.

Regina finally rose from her seat and walked around to where Malachi stood, about to exit the room. “Malachi, please stay a moment.”

Calmly, Malachi stood at ease as the room emptied out, all except for his charge and her children.

The head of Command had not let her mask slip, contrasting last night, but instead wore a familiar heightened air of superiority around her.

Junior remained rigid opposite the end of the table where Regina sat moments ago.

“Can you honestly say without a doubt that you don’t see the situation from my point of view?” His words came fast, tripping over themselves to get out of his mouth.

“You are one person, Junior. It is my job to think of the whole, including every individual within this city. If I withhold anything from this council, it is for one reason, and that is to protect this city. You jeopardized that goal today.” Regina paused, as if questioning how to proceed. “Until further notice, you are relieved of overseeing new member duties. Your second-in-command will take over in your absence. Until you are able to put the needs of OS above your own ambition, you are not to leave your rooms without a personal guard of my choosing with my explicit permission directly.”

In a matter of seconds, Junior closed the empty space between him and his mother. He towered over her, and yet Lettie watched her mother remain calm, half her body resting on the table’s surface.

“Dad would’ve never bent to the will of a bunch of crackers and spics. You dishonor his memory.”

The sound that the slap made reverberated against the walls and caused Junior’s head to snap back, eyes wide. Except for routine whoopings when they were younger, most of which were doled out by their father, Lettie’s mother had never laid an ill-intended hand on any of them.

Regina turned toward Malachi, whose face did not give way to the surprise that covered both Lettie’s and Christian’s. “Take him to his room and make sure he stays there,” she ordered, her voice pure, hardened steel.

Junior didn’t resist as Malachi grabbed his bicep and marched him out of the conference room. When the doors closed behind them, their mother turned to address Christian and Lettie. Her voice didn’t crack, but some of the vigor that was present before had dissipated. “Christian, take your sister to the airfield. Show her everything.”

Quietly, they watched her disappear through the smaller set of doors opposite the main entrance. Christian looked at his sister, eyebrows arched, and she shrugged her shoulders; they left the way they’d come, Lettie following his lead.

***

“That shit was wild!” Christian’s curls bounced up and down, words tumbling out of his mouth expeditiously. “I can’t believe he stepped up to her like that. And that slap! I did not see that coming!” He blurted the last words loud enough to echo off the buildings around them, but there were no ears other than their own to hear the reverberations. “Maybe that knocked some sense into that thick skull of his.”

“He’s lucky that’s all she did.”

“Do you really think Mom’s going to leave him on house arrest?”

“I don’t know, Christian. He challenged her in front of everyone,” Lettie responded, rubbing her hands together to combat the dropping temperature. “She can’t let that go, even for one of us. What the hell are we doing out here?” she inquired, changing the subject.

They’d spent the last twenty minutes riding east on I-80, Lettie growing increasingly tired of being ignorant of their destination and Christian’s constant micro examination of the previous hour’s events. When they finally exited, she began to see signs for various local attractions and leaned over his shoulder quizzically.

“The airport?”

The wind suddenly picked up and whipped past them, making conversation no longer possible. Sedated for the moment, Lettie sat back on the rear seat of the motorcycle and let him navigate the rest of the way in cool silence.

Overpasses and overgrown medians eventually gave way to the airport’s main road. Christian ignored the arrival and departure lanes, instead cutting across several lanes and dodging a particularly jam-packed stretch of abandoned sedans and trucks. A flock of magpies erupted into the air as Christian accelerated quickly through an unobstructed receiving bay, ignoring a large chain-link fence with numerous “Do Not Enter” signs fastened to it, and onto the commercial portion of the tarmac.

Lettie knew from past recon missions nearby that the entire terminal had fallen into chaos during the first wave of the Impact. People had swarmed the area, desperate to reach loved ones or seeking refuge in other cities. It was now a plane cemetery: the empty hulls, planks, and carts sat scattered at various gates. Stark shells of behemoth commercial planes lay abandoned and graffitied on the taxiway, the sprawling greenish-brown mountain range staged as their backdrop. As they darted parallel the length of the tarmac, less and less debris covered the runway until eventually they slowed and stopped completely. As they disembarked the motorcycle, Lettie noted that the area in which they now stood was surprisingly well kept, contrasting the rest of the derelict airport.

Taking a lanyard with a key out of his backpack, Christian undid the shiny chain lock from around a smaller gate to let it swing open. He answered her question before it could be voiced. “This is the private sector of the port. Ya know, where fancy rich people used to come and go on their private luxury jets? Popping bottles, mile high club, the whole music video dream? Well, anyway, it was left untouched after the Impact, so it made the most sense to use this area.”

“Use it for what, Christian?”

He ignored her, guiding her through the gate. He locked it behind them before continuing toward the largest of the three hangars in silence. Its gray metallic arch was shuttered, and the duo went around the side, entering through a small discreet door. The room was pitch dark as Lettie waited for Christian to return. It didn’t take long for light to explode before her, Christian having succeeded with fumbling with the hangar’s generator nearby. The plain office before her was underwhelming, a chaos of stray papers and various overturned office furniture, but underwhelming all the same. Following Christian to the back of the building and through a second door, Lettie froze in disbelief.

“Tu dahhh,” he chimed, hands stretched toward the space in front of them.

Three huge galactic ships sat in front of her, somehow making the hangar instantly feel smaller. She’d seen them before on TV, of course, and even a few times from a distance, but never this close in person. They were beautiful and terrifying, their huge bulks making her feel uncharacteristically small and minute.

Remembering she was not alone, Lettie turned back to her brother, who stared at her smirking, pleased with himself.

“How?” she uttered.

“Well, various ways, but all personally executed by ya boy.” He dramatically sidestepped toward the closest of the machines and gently pounded his fist against its side. “Most of them we were able to salvage from failed rescue missions and labor runs. Two of them we bartered for with some drifters off-world for delivery here.”

“So stolen goods,” she responded flatly.

He shrugged his shoulders, his moment of glory unfazed. “Not stolen. Salvaged.”

Lettie cautiously ran her hand down the side of the ship. It was in the best shape out of the fleet, nearly pristine. The gray metal was smooth and cold underneath her palm.

“How many are there?”

“Eight total, seven fighter models like that one, and one big boy in the other bunker. The Cypherians call the model War Machine. I’m calling it Olorun, though.” Christian hopped around, giddy at finally being able to share his secret hobby with another. “That one there is Oya. And next to her is Ayao.”

“Of course, you named them.”

“Don’t be like that. Every child deserves a name, Lettie. Even the mechanical ones.”

Christian proceeded to give her a tour around the ship, excitedly explaining various parts and their purposes at rapid fire. Unprompted, he listed off what still needed to be done and what repairs had already been completed.

“Who else knows about this?”

“It’s basically—” He snapped his fingers, grasping. “Shit, I just read about it in this comic book I found.”

Lettie moved to interrupt him when he continued.

“Area 51! It’s Area 51 around here. No one really in, no one out. Unless, except I guess, when we have to restock choppers’ kerosene and the gasoline tankers. But even that’s rare. So just me and Mom. And well, of course, you now. Oh, and Malachi.”

“Malachi knows?” Lettie tried to conceal the offense from her voice but was uncertain of the outcome.

“Well yeah, he’s the one who helped me get these bad boys in here.” Christian hesitated, staring anywhere but at his sister. “I wanted to tell you, Lettie, a bunch of times, but Mom’s orders, you get it. Honestly, I think she was a little worried you’d be against it. You know how you can get.”

She suddenly dropped her hands from tinkering with a large, bolted hook at the back of the completed ship, unsure of its purpose, before pivoting toward Christian.

“You mean against my kid brother harboring stolen RCF spaceships for who knows how many years right under my nose? Yeah, you can put me down as a hell no, dude.”

“I’m not a kid. And these aren’t spaceships! They’re intergalactic travel vessels.” He pushed past her, annoyed. “There’s a difference.”

“Thanks for that info.” Removing her rifle from her back, she dropped onto a makeshift step stool and put her head in her hands.

“You both should have told me. I could have helped. What if you’d gotten caught? What if—”

“But I didn’t. Besides, can you honestly say that you would’ve gone along with all this?”

He had her there.

“Honestly? Probably not. Because what the hell do we need a fleet of…intergalactic vehicles for?

“Vessels,” Christian interrupted.

Lettie lifted her head up. “Whatever they are, they’re another reason for RCF to target our city.”

“I wish I had a better answer for you.” It was his turn to let out an exasperated sigh. “I was just told to get them here, not why. My guess is some kinda backup plan in case Impact 2.0 happens. You’d have to go to the top dog for real answers.”

Lettie stood from her seat and clenched her jaw hard.

“Oh, I intend to.”

***

Several days had passed, or rather dragged on, without Lettie successfully cornering her mother about the newly revealed fleet. Every time she attempted to reach Regina at the convention center, the matriarch was conveniently tied up with another matter or nowhere to be found. Unable to breach the subject in public about the fleet of ships that wasn’t supposed to exist, it had proven difficult to find time to speak with her mother in private.

Presently, Lettie examined the man that stood before her. Most of the scratches on Isaac’s face had healed, and he’d had the opportunity to clean up, the removed grime revealing a welcoming face. The remnants of grease that had previously plagued his hands had been replaced by a maze of old scars scouring his long, slender fingers. His beard had been recently trimmed to frame a comfortingly handsome face. Out of pure habit, Lettie studied it hard, critiquing his prominent features, attempting to pinpoint his ethnicity but unable to come to a concrete conclusion. His skin was tanned to a permanent medium bronze. Flared nostrils defined his face, and tufts of both straight and coiled curls sprung haphazardly from his head, dissolving any hereditary hypothesis Lettie could conjure. Deeply set kind eyes and an even kinder smile contrasted his constant analysis of his surroundings, gaze covertly taking mental notes of everything and everyone that passed by, including the woman before him.

“Thanks for meeting me.” Lettie broke the silent moment of scrutiny first.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

When she didn’t respond immediately, Isaac continued, “I have to admit I was a bit surprised when I got your message.”

It was a couple hours before midnight, and the stars shone in full force.

“I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.” Lettie motioned for him to walk with her, and they lazily meandered through the Depot.

Located about half a mile from OS’s western border, the Depot was originally a popular railroad stop both for passenger and commercial lines, but now boasted a market for locals to sell their wares out of old train cars, repurposed as merchant stalls. Despite the number of vendors, commerce was not the sole purpose of the Depot. The constant money exchange and downtime attracted people seeking all types of relief. Even with the recent drama and happenings, OS’s play hard, work harder mentality remained very much intact. Long ago, someone had strung twinkling lights crisscross along the Depot’s promenade, overhead the various booths, to enhance the starlight. Musicians played at occasional intervals throughout the promenade, the last competing to be heard over the next, and people came and went as they pleased, some sober, some high, many at varying levels of intoxication.

“Not at all. I’ve been assigned to provisions. It’s certainly a change of pace but I like it. Oh, and I got my ring yesterday.” Isaac lifted his hand and wiggled his index finger, showing off the simple copper-plated ring threaded with purple wire. It was standard-issue for all OS members. The act prompted Lettie to twist her own ring with her thumb, identical to the one he flaunted. The weight of it was both familiar and burdensome.

“Got to love formalities,” she responded before stopping at a makeshift bar near a corner of the packed area.

Lettie tapped the bar to get the bartender’s attention, who delivered two coldish beers to them, recognizing the Valentine daughter. She nodded gratefully toward the barback.

Handing a bottle to Isaac, Lettie tipped the neck of her own toward him. “Well, here’s to your making the cut. Welcome to the gang.”

He clinked his bottle against hers and took a deep chug.

“Thank you, Leticia. I have to say, it is nice to take a break from the craziness of these last days and actually see the city.” He overpronounced certain words, confirming that English was not his first language.

“Please, just Lettie.”

He smiled. As they zigzagged leisurely through the crowd, Lettie resumed studying his profile. He couldn’t be any older than thirty, but the way he took up space felt like that of someone much beyond his years, not bothering to put on airs about who he was or wasn’t. With a start that caused her to almost drop her drink, Lettie realized Isaac’s stature reminded her of her father and his ability to walk into a room and command it without saying a word; an ability she valued. Suddenly, she was reminded of the young girl who was brought in with Isaac.

“How’s your daughter…?” Lettie trailed, searching her memory for the girl’s name.

Isaac aimed that blazing smile at her once more. “Aida, after my grandmother. And she is okay. I know she is happy to finally be done traveling.” His posture relaxed slightly at the mention of the girl, and he leaned in closer to Lettie to be heard. “She’s taken to LuAnn and Luce very quickly and so far, she gets along fine with the other kids. I think she’ll be okay.”

“Good. Yeah, LuAnn and Luce are good people. They make rations an enjoyable team to be on. You won’t have to worry about her under their watch. LuAnn’s a bit of a mother figure to everyone around here, really.”

Silence lingered warmly, both content watching those around them carry on.

Isaac broke it first. “Her mother died in the attack on our home. My wife”—he cleared his throat before continuing—“my wife was a good woman, the best of us actually.”

Lettie hadn’t asked out loud, out of respect, but he offered the information anyway.

“I’m so sorry, Isaac.”

He took another long gulp, finishing his drink, and tossed it in a bin nearby.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “Aida was with her—when it happened. I haven’t asked her about it—honestly, I don’t know how to—but she seems to be taking it well, given everything. I think that has a lot to do with—”

Her companion was interrupted by a hard shoulder check from a passerby. The two stopped abruptly and turned, awaiting some form of an apology. Lettie recognized the man instantly as the one who’d accompanied Junior when he came to sway her vote. Jesse.

“Watch where you’re going, Mongrel mutt.”

Isaac immediately went rigid, clenching his fist. “How dare you call me this.”

Before Isaac could muster a step forward, Lettie stepped between the two men smoothly.

“It’s Jesse, right?”

His eyes moved from Isaac to her, recognition blooming over his face. Even so, he didn’t move to back down, and Lettie continued to try to defuse the situation, noting the three men rearing up behind Jesse.

Raising her voice, she continued, “Isaac here has successfully completed his initiation, so that means he’s one of us now.” As she patted both men on the shoulder simultaneously, Lettie lowered her voice so that only they could hear her. “I suggest you apologize and be on your way. No one has to have their day ruined.”

The intensifying murmurs from the crowd and jeers from his equally boorish friends boasted Jesse, the pack leader knowingly too far in to be able to save face in front of the growing mob.

“Hey, fellas,” he cocked his head toward his friends but was clearly speaking for all to hear. “What do you get when a dyke and a towelhead walk into a bar?”

Jesse didn’t have time to deliver the ignorant punchline before Isaac was on him, launching two quick blows to his fat mouth as Lettie swooped in to defend Isaac against Jesse’s descending friends. She grabbed the man approaching the now dueling pair and kneed him in the groin. A follow-up knee to the face temporarily incapacitated the man, his body hitting the dirt.

A second, unrecognized assailant lunged to wrap his arms around her, but Lettie was just able to sidestep out of his way. Using the momentum to spin around, she landed two punches to his torso. Barely fazed, he regained his fighting stance and closed the space between them quickly, delivering a barrage of punches to her already injured ribs. Lettie half feigned, half actually slumped over. Grasping her side, she tried to force air into her lungs when his uppercut started toward her face. Exhibiting her own speed, she ensnared the incoming arm and twisted it behind his back before jamming her foot into the space behind his knee. He crumpled like a doll, Lettie elbowing him in the face and neck until he blacked out from the trauma.

No other immediate threats detected, Lettie turned to find Isaac. He was on top of Jesse, both men rolling on the concrete. Isaac’s lack of formal training was obvious by the way he punched erratically and failed to take advantage of Jesse’s exposed openings, but he made up for it in sheer willpower and determination.

From the beating he was taking, Jesse was also coming to the same realization, although too late. Unrelenting, Isaac maintained his position on top of his victim and unloaded fist after fist into flesh. When blood finally began to gush from Jesse’s nose, Lettie raced over to them and threw her hands around Isaac. He was unexpectedly solid, and it took almost all her weight to pull him off, the two teetering away haphazardly together.

Finally given a moment to catch her breath, Lettie glanced around, taking in the large crowd their antics had drawn. Jesse lay flat on his back, and the two men she’d incapacitated were slowly getting to their feet; the lone survivor from their group made his way over to Jesse to try to assist him, all the while watching them cautiously. By the time everyone gathered for breakfast tomorrow morning, Jesse and his gang of thugs would make sure the narrative would spread of how Lettie chose an outsider over one of her own.

“Let’s get out of here,” she huffed.

Isaac didn’t argue, following Lettie in a silent jog. It wasn’t until they arrived back at his building that they came to a standstill.

“Ya know, for an engineer, you sure can throw a punch.” Lettie folded her hands behind her head, gulping in air, her adrenaline surging. “And take one.”

“Lettie, I am so sorry. I should not have hit that man. I do not know what came over me. I should—”

She put her hand up, silencing his growing wariness. “You have no reason to apologize. He shouldn’t have said the shit he said. If anything, I should be apologizing to you. Please don’t let Jesse mislead you into thinking that everyone here is like that. Because we aren’t.”

Part of his jacket sleeve had been torn and several scratches released beads of blood on his neck. Red, swollen patches had already begun to appear on his face when Isaac’s bright smile returned.

“I would never.”

Chapter
5

To allow herself additional time to think, Lettie chose to take the steps in lieu of the elevator. She had been at breakfast with her unit when a messenger informed Lettie that her mother would finally see her. It had been four days since her and Isaac’s fight at the Depot. The window for any chastising had surely closed, and Lettie felt strongly this summons was unrelated.

Upon her arrival at the top floor, the two guards at the main doors let her through without bothering to apprehend her weapons. In a time before she was on the council, she had hated coming up to this floor. It meant her parents knew of her most recent misdeeds, or her superiors knew of her miscalculations as a soldier—both of which meant hell to pay. As the location of their offices, the convention center was where Lettie’s parents preferred to discipline their children instead of the four-bedroom house that they called home, the one they’d all reached a consensus on upon their arrival to Salt Lake. After her father died and her mother became Command, Regina spent so much time in her office that it became her new home, shielded by the walls of the executive floor. One by one the Valentine offspring were inducted onto the council and followed their mother’s lead, abandoning the familial home that held too many memories altogether, in favor of their own separate spaces.

For a minute, Christian and Lettie lived together in the theater, but as they grew older and took on additional responsibilities with OS, they, too, had to figure out how to navigate their respective personal and professional lives on their own.

And so, Lettie’s summons into Command facilities meant they would talk in Regina’s arena.

Making her way through the second set of doors, Lettie bypassed the table and chairs that were reserved for council meetings and went through the last set of doors. Opening up into a large office, big enough to fit two couches, housed inside were a table, several chairs, and a large desk area at the rear of the room. Regina’s office, accessible through the back doors of the conference room, had floor-to-ceiling windows at the back of the room. The blaring sunlight made Lettie squint. As her vision corrected itself, Lettie spotted her mother sitting behind her massive desk, studying the double monitors in front of her. Methodically, Lettie sat on one of the couches perpendicular to the desk. If her mother wanted to speak with Lettie face-to-face, she’d be forced from behind her desk.

It took several minutes, but Regina quietly pushed her chair back and sat on the sofa across from her daughter. She maneuvered her body expertly, ensuring that her ankle-length dress wasn’t caught on the coffee table corner. Her mother embodied a photograph frozen in time, familiar light brown eyes and full lips enduring, features seemingly ageless over the years. Once again, familiar feelings of a child about to be scolded resurfaced.

“You wanted to see me,” Lettie started, her voice even.

“Yes. The guards have informed me that you’ve been by a few times to see me.”

Lettie wanted to cut in and correct her, the missed visits counting as far more than a few, but she refrained. “I’m sorry about that. This business with the Hoodou has really shaken things up. I’ve been working around the clock, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”

Her mother was right. Lettie’s trip to the Depot was the last time she’d done anything outside of coordinating with Tristan and the rest of her team regarding that month’s intel runs. They’d been even more preoccupied with monitoring RCF correspondence to Earth; “shaken up” was an understatement.

Regina took Lettie’s silence as her cue to continue.

“How are your new recruits?”

Several of the Hoodous who had exhibited adequate tracking and ops skills had been assigned to the reconnaissance unit, making it Lettie’s responsibility to get them trained up to par.

“They are eager to learn, promising for sure.”

“Good. And their leader, Isaac. LuAnn says he’s doing well in rations. I’ve heard that you two have gotten especially acquainted. What are your thoughts regarding him? Outside of his quick fists, I mean.”

There it was. Though Regina didn’t hold the same outdated, ignorant prejudices as other members of OS and actively pushed for increased inclusion, Lettie knew she wouldn’t condone behavior that she interpreted as creating division in the colony.

“He’s a good person, despite having been through a lot.” For good measure Lettie added, “He could make a really good asset to this city.”

“I agree,” Regina responded, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. “I’ve spoken with Isaac and several other members from his group about him. He sounds like the real deal. But we must be careful how we go about annexing these people into our community, Lettie.” She hesitated for a moment and then continued, “You don’t…you don’t have…feelings for this man, do you?”

Throwing her head back, she covered her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Mom, no. He’s just a friend.”

Looking back, Lettie’d always had the lucky fortune of her parents’ support of her sexuality, even when the bomb dropped in their lap after catching her literally in the closet with a female middle-school classmate, their lips locked together and her hands venturing where they’d never yet gone. And even when there were several formative flukes with men and folx, they’d never shamed her about her fluid history of chosen companions.

“Good, because I can deal with many things, Leticia, but you dating someone eleven years your senior is not one of them.” Regina’s lips bunched up into a small smile, one that Lettie did not return, holding her ground.

Despite the brief turn toward banality, Lettie refused to lose focus of her original reason for being there.

Sensing the air of seriousness returning, Regina spoke again. “What was it you needed to speak to me so urgently about?”

“Christian showed me the ships.”

“Mmm, yes. And, what do you think?”

“I think I should have been told before now,” Lettie replied.

“No. You didn’t need to know before. The success of the retrieval missions was dependent upon discretion. The fewer people that knew, the better. Execution was not dependent upon your involvement.”

Her factual tone made Lettie’s hands and ears warm and tingle with irritation. “I could have helped. As a member of Command—”

“Let me get this straight,” Regina tapped on the fingers of her opposite hand as she spoke. “Are you upset that I didn’t include you in the procurement of the ships or that you weren’t made aware of their existence?”

“Both! I’m mad that there are a fleet of ships sitting right under my nose that I had absolutely no idea about. And not just from me—from Command.”

“I am Command!”

She rose, blinking hard as if to forcefully clear something from her mind. Moving toward her desk, Regina’s shuffling of papers implied the conversation was over.

Lettie stood up as well, following her. “You had no right.”

“Excuse me?” Regina twirled on her, clearly outraged at Lettie’s admonishment.

“You had no right,” she repeated. “You endangered Christian, and all of Salt Lake, by bringing those…those things to the city and keeping them here. Did you even think about—”

“What? Did I think about what?” Regina’s voice raised, she cut the air with her hands. “Did I think about how quickly RCF would wipe our city off the face of the Earth if they knew we were in possession of assault weapons? That we were capable of retaliation or even outright attack?” Her prominent lips moved fast, betraying her growing frustration. “Because yes, Leticia, I thought about that and every other scenario you’ve had swirling around in that head of yours. I don’t need you to lecture me on the safety of this city. That same safety is the reason I’ve kept those ‘things’ under wraps, but ready should we ever need them. Those things will remain a last resort to keep us safe, as long as I’m in control.”

She lowered her voice, suddenly aware of its volume, and continued, “As for Christian, I love you all, Junior too. But you three have been in danger since you were born. It took a long time and nearly everything in me to accept that fact.”

It was Lettie’s turn to be caught off guard.

“Your father and I may have failed you as parents, but we sure as hell made sure you could handle yourselves in this world. I knew Christian would be able to manage this by himself—and he did.”

She was right, but in that moment, Lettie hated her for everything she’d been forced to deal with since the Impact: the uprooting of her life in DC, the constant pressure to excel, and the sudden loss of her father. A small hysterical part of her even blamed her mother for the Impact directly, however irrational. These sentiments were admittedly eclipsed by a more recent feeling, a looming sense that a monumental change was coming to OS. The sensation was foreign, but it unnerved Lettie nonetheless, leaving her feeling exposed.

“Junior was wrong about you the other day. Defending your actions and orders as if they are in the best interest of the colony, keeping secrets from the rest of the board…you sound exactly like Allister. Not even Dad would’ve been able to tell the difference.”

She didn’t wait for a response. Lettie stormed out the two sets of doors before thudding down the stairs. Stopped at a landing, she allowed the small sliver of her that wanted her mother to come running down the stairs to rise. The image of Regina snatching her up, swift punishment for the blatant act of disrespect was almost too real. Instead, Lettie remained alone in the stairwell, her heart hammering and her eyes filling with hot tears, threatening to erupt. The effort to hold them back strained her jaw. Her mother’s boast about her children’s ability to handle themselves haunted Lettie, filling her with anger, sorrow, and confusion. After ten deep breaths, Lettie stepped into the bustling main lobby, feeling more perturbed than when she’d arrived.

***

A barrage of knocks at her door interrupted a decent slumber that Lettie had worked very hard to achieve. Though it was still daytime for the rest of OS, she’d tightly closed all the curtains in her bedroom. The room cast in pitch darkness, the hope of getting a few hours of solid sleep before her watch later that night was quickly vanishing. Between Max’s anxious pawing at the door and the increasingly obnoxious pounding, Lettie was eventually forced from the platform bed. Jostled the moment she undid both locks and cracked the door, Nico flew through the partial opening, his big frame maneuvering the door open the rest of the way. Nyla trailed him a bit more calmly and gave Lettie a quick smile in greeting. Despite the cold temperature, and the bundles of layers and jackets between them, sweat formed on Nico’s forehead and neck.

“Ready yo’self, man’s wouldn’t stop fussin’ damn near whole way over here.”

Ignoring his identical sister’s jab, Nico turned toward her. “L, I been tryna radio you for a hot minute. Why ain’t you answerin’?” Pausing to take in the disarray of the open living room he continued, “Where you been anyway? I ain’t seen you in days. You good? Sure don’t smell good.”

“I’m fine,” Lettie responded flatly.

Truthfully, except for official duties and trainings, Lettie hadn’t left her apartment in the past forty-eight hours. She and Max had managed by evenly splitting the small cache of rations she kept stocked for emergencies, but it was nothing compared to the home cooking at the mess hall. The two were content passing most of their time drinking, reading, and playing with some commercial rope she’d managed to fashion into a chew toy, little effort expended tidying up afterward.

Ignoring Nico’s jab about her brief lack of hygiene, Lettie searched for the military-grade walkie-talkie in her room. Finally locating it under Max’s bed, she clicked the power button off and on, the device dead. She padded back into the living room and threw the lifeless device at Nico.

“Sorry. It must’ve died.” Lettie motioned to him and Nyla, who sat on one of the kitchen counters, hooking the radio up to its portable charging station. It surged to life immediately, a continuous stream of crackled voices and words coming out of the mic. She adjusted the volume down to barely audible and looked toward Nico.

“It’s RCF, they been transmittin’ this message to us, started ’bout an hour ago. Damn thing seems to be on some kinda repeatin’ loop, callin’ out your mom.”

She glanced toward Nyla in the kitchen and the woman nodded her head, confirming her brother’s words.

“What’s the message say?”

“It’s a…what’d you call it earlier? Peace tree? The thang them Greeks use to do?

“It’s a olive branch, what he’s tryna say,” Nyla responded, rolling her eyes.

Focusing on Lettie, she continued, unable to completely contain her own giddiness, cracks seeping under the normally cool stoic demeanor.

“They callin’ it a ‘unity directive,’ whatever that is. Sayin’ they wanna send some of their folks down here, the Commander included, to make nice. RCF finna come here to make peace with us, Lettie.”

***

Unlike the two younger Valentine siblings, Junior lived less than a block from the convention center. Often bolstering that the proximity allowed convenience for the aiding and contacting of new incoming recruits, Lettie knew his real desire was to be close to the colony’s source of power at all times. For him and many others, knowledge was power: the knowledge being the various goings-on in the city and the power being favor within the council.

The three massive sections of the hotel took up almost a city block and sat only a few feet from the street, as if meaning to greedily gobble up anyone who found themselves on its sidewalk. Walking into the two-door entrance, Lettie was met with a medium-sized lobby area, still-gleaming wood and fallen gold fixtures strewn about the area. Because of its proximity to the convention center, the Peery Hotel was among one of the few buildings in the city that had electricity and running water, making it a popular spot for hanging out, though the building had long ago reached residential capacity. Somehow, even completely full, Junior had managed to secure not one, but two of the master suites on the top floor of the innermost branch and knocked out several walls to combine them into one large living space.

The brass-covered elevator dinged as Lettie arrived at the top floor. The morning rush left the hall busier than usual; she nodded to several passersby, keeping her face friendly but eyes focused enough on her task that no one would attempt to stop her and conversate. Unlike pre-Impact, working cell phones and telephonic towers were rare, and news relied solely on word of mouth to spread, though radio and electronic communication helped hasten things a bit. Though Command had only just met yesterday, word would have already spread to department heads and commanding officers, trickling down the ranks and, eventually, outside and beyond their own borders.

Despite being her first visit to see Junior since the commencement of his house arrest, Lettie was not surprised to find two armed guards on either side of the last door at the end of the hallway. She wasn’t questioned or stopped as she gave two quick knocks on the pale ivory door and entered the apartment. Taking advantage of the space, the first room was used to entertain guests, from the furniture placement and meticulously clean kitchen and living room, to the fully stocked bar area at the front of the room complementing the former comforts. Lettie knew that the next room was just as immaculate, not an article of clothing out of place in the area repurposed for sleeping and entertaining another type of guest. Donning a fairly wrinkle-free button-up and dress pants, even on house arrest, Roman dressed as if he was on the way to the most important meeting of his life; all that was missing was a suit jacket and tie, both of which she’d bet were laid out somewhere, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Did you come to gloat or hang out with your favorite big brother?”

“Neither. Mom sent me,” she replied, plopping down on a deceptively uncomfortable armchair in the massive living room. Soft piano music played from a speaker she couldn’t spot, probably some fancy built-in unit.

Facing her, Junior was without his eye cover, and even though she’d seen him without it plenty of times, she found herself studying the old wound. A small mound of light brown scar tissue spawned smaller fragments that splintered off an inch down his cheek and overtook part of his eyebrow above.

“Ah, even better,” he retorted, taking a seat on the massive leather wraparound couch that took up most of the living room. “She can’t face me herself, so she sent reinforcements.”

Lettie’s snarky response to his egging dissolved as she took a closer look at his clothing. Though he was sitting still, his forehead and neck were dripping with sweat and perspiration had begun to seep through the suave blue dress shirt. Despite the excessive sweating, he gave a quick shiver, attempting to hide it by crossing and uncrossing his arms. With the level of restriction it appeared their mother was imposing on Junior’s lockdown, she could only assume how that, compounded with the very clear signs of withdrawal, was affecting her eldest brother. Lettie mulled over inquiring further, but every scenario concluded in an ungrateful tantrum, so instead, she cut to her reason for being there.

“I may be here on her behalf, but I’m not taking anyone’s side. To be honest, I think you’re both being ridiculous, but so be it. Plus, I’ve got good news.”

“Unless you’ve got a special little vial for me stuffed in that jacket or, I don’t know, a time machine, I highly doubt that.”

“Mom says you’re off house arrest.”

He was silent and stared intently at her, expectantly waiting for her to say sike.

“A couple days ago, RCF reached out over comms to broker a peaceful armistice treaty. Command held a vote yesterday, and the result was unanimously in favor of hearing them out. Commander Koenig and a team of his advisors are due here in two days’ time.” Lettie continued, giving him the play-by-play of what he’d missed, detailing the meetings’ proceedings.

By the time she’d finished, he was slowly pacing back and forth from the living room to the front door, digesting her words. Surprisingly, his response possessed little condemnation.

“So, to put on a united front for our visitors, she’s restoring my duties.”

Well, less condemnation than she’d expected.

The thought hadn’t passed Lettie’s mind until he voiced it; she mentally slapped herself for not seeing her mother’s plotting under the guise of kindheartedness sooner. Junior was many things, a high proportion of them wicked, but clueless he was not.

“Guess you’re right.”

Surprising her further, he momentarily halted his pacing. “And what about you? You’re just okay with RCF sweeping in here, white flag raised?”

Lettie swung her feet off the very expensive-looking wooden coffee table. “Of course not. I’m as wary and confused as you are, for different reasons, yeah, but if there is even a fraction of a chance that they actually want to pass a treaty, we owe it to ourselves and the future of this city to hear them out.”

His response was curt. “You sound like Christian.”

She couldn’t argue with him there; their middle sibling had a knack for always playing the neutral party in any argument or debate. Even when they were children, he avoided taking sides, usually resulting in Junior and her settling matters themselves.

“Now I see why Mom sent you.”

Choked laughter and all, he had returned to being his worst self. Lettie stood to leave, having come to say what she was instructed to, when he continued, “If we allow those self-entitled masters to land in our city, we will be granting permission to be made slaves once again; it will destroy everything we’ve built. Every child, woman, and man, Lettie, our people will never be safe again.”

The seriousness of his voice caused her to pause in pursuit of the exit. Lettie turned to soothe his concerns, placate the dramatics, when he cut her off. “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

“I will.” She nodded. “You do the same. House arrest does not look good on you, man.”

They exchanged quick smiles and Lettie exited the apartment.

Part
2

Chapter
6

The sun was out in full force, betraying both the temperature and the day’s dire occasion. As a child, Lettie often envisioned that the day RCF landed in Salt Lake, fire and brimstone would rain down on the city, sky full of gloom and doom. Instead, she stood on the dusty train platform at the edge of the western border, chilled by the sporadic wind gusts but comforted by the sun’s warmth. Rays extended over the train yard, bouncing off the metallic surfaces of various abandoned cars and machinery. As the sound of the incoming freight bellowed across the yard, a flock of birds scattered across the sky, cinematic clouds starring as their backdrop. For mid-November, it was an uncharacteristically warm day, though Lettie doubted rain, snow, or sleet could have stopped the crowds that had gathered throughout the rail yard. A growing wave of bodies lined the large platform on either side, all in anticipation of their notorious visitors, everyone wanting to get first glance at the Cypherians.

At the end of the barrage, the council had assembled on a makeshift stage, accessible only by a large ramp at the side. Several guards remained vigilant where the platform met the tracks, ready to intercept the party upon arrival. Peppered throughout the crowd and near the stage, additional guards stood fully armed and donning combat gear. Their presence was mostly for show as OS had numbers on their side, and a ground attack on the colony’s people was unlikely. Where the gathered spectators wore wardrobes of salvaged streetwear, repurposed time and time again, the council members onstage mirrored the sentries, dressed in stately garb: Junior in his usual three-piece suit covered by a large wool coat, Christian donning a fitted turtleneck combination, constantly tugging at the snug material, and their mother in a functional dress with knee-length boots.

All of them rocked a various shade and item of purple. Committed to remaining vigilant for the engagement, Lettie wore her usual black jeans, the ones with the least holes and dirt, and combat boots. A fitted cashmere sweater borrowed from Tristan was topped off with her bomber jacket. Against the orders of her mother, Lettie wore a single pistol tucked under her jacket, secured by a brown leather shoulder holster—the sling had been her father’s, trimmed and tightened to fit her smaller frame snugly. The weapon was invisible to anyone not looking for it.

The last-minute change by the head of RCF agitated Regina, forcing Christian along with their mechanics to work overnight to get the trains running and fueled in time for this morning. RCF’s request that they be permitted to land and set up residency outside of the metropolitan area cited hopes of not overburdening their hosts. Luckily most of the antiquated tracks remained in good condition, and the task was not an impossible labor.

Standing at the forefront of the stage that morning, though, Lettie’s mother was absent of emotion, face clear of any previous annoyance or animosity. Lettie had witnessed her mother make plenty of difficult decisions and navigate stressful situations, but in that moment, Regina encompassed the fearless leader that the rest of OS only ever saw. Lettie was awed and thankful. Suddenly, the crowd grew louder, pulling her from her thoughts. The shabby trains finally arrived and halted noisily at the station. Malachi and eleven of his top officers were the first to unboard the train, securing the immediate area and ensuring that the Cypherians had enough space to safely disembark.

Ivan Koenig was impossible not to identify right away. Together, his features could be described as pleasant to look at, at least upon first gander. A well-defined and recently shaved jawline housed two perpetually pink lips, the bottom larger than the top. His nose was a bit too large for his face, but even that didn’t hold your attention like his eyes, as Lettie would later find. Set deep into their caverns, they were like blue icicles, cold and hard. Despite the people positioned between them, those eyes felt like they were staring straight at Lettie, peeling her apart layer by layer, hungry to uncover the center. Instinctively, Lettie stuffed her hands into her jacket pocket, the gun at her ribs instantly comforting.

To finally be within yards of the man who governed an entire planet, a planet full of people that wanted to wipe out their very existence, was a moment Lettie couldn’t begin to process. But even the infamous Commander couldn’t distract her from the woman who disembarked after him.

Her beauty alone drew Lettie’s attention, but more intriguing was that the woman was the sole member of her group that didn’t don an expression of outright antipathy or polite disdain. Instead, her gaze carefully but noticeably darted around her, eyes hungrily taking in her surroundings and the people around her. Before the party could fully ascend the stage’s stairs, the crowd quickly closed the recently vacated space. A small smile played at the woman’s lips at the sight of a fidgety child hanging from their father’s shoulders, but the moment passed so quickly that Lettie was unsure if she’d witnessed it at all.

Her mother stepped forward, coolly and swiftly intercepting Koenig in a handshake. Simultaneously, the matriarch turned toward the crowd and loudly announced that the Obsidian Society and all of Salt Lake City cheerfully welcomed Commander Koenig and members of the Renewed Citizens’ Front. She ended with her high hopes for reconciliation between the two factions before directing Commander Koenig to follow her. Initiating formal introductions, Regina led the Commander down OS’s lined formation.

“You’ve already met our head of security, Malachi Walker.”

“Of course, we had the opportunity to chat on the ride over. I look forward to our future discussions, Malachi. Regina, you honor me by sending your personal guard to receive me.” Koenig’s words were clipped, voice modulated, a tone Lettie could only describe as robotic.

As they were still the youngest on the council, Lettie and her brothers held position at the end of the procession.

“Finally, my children. This is my eldest son, Roman. He heads our enlistment efforts.”

The Commander shook his hand firmly and nodded. “Ah yes, an important role indeed. Good to meet you, Roman.”

Returning his hand back behind his back, Junior let out a curt “Likewise” and fell back in line.

“And this is my daughter, Leticia.” Regina rubbed Lettie’s shoulder, continuing, “She holds a number of roles within the community, intelligence at the forefront of them.”

The Commander was even more intense up close. It did not escape Lettie how others could find the unwavering attention charming, but the intense gaze only conjured a creeping chill down her spine.

“Mmm, it’s Lettie though, right?”

She tried to hide her discomfort at his unprompted familiarity. “It is, Commander Koenig.”

He winked and responded, “We’ve got a pretty good intelligence division as well.”

Lettie found his jab and attempted boast unentertaining, especially considering how far from difficult it was to dig up a nickname, but she let him continue, uninterrupted.

“And please, call me Ivan.”

After a brief back and forth with Christian to her left, their mother and the Commander returned to the forefront of the stage, the latter resuming the role of speaker. As he delivered a short speech that mirrored her mother’s, Lettie took the opportunity to find the woman from earlier.

She scanned the group of RCF commanding officers who stood off to the side of the stage, their stark white uniforms resembling a group of flightless formal penguins. They numbered twenty-five, not including the unarmed guards they insisted on bringing. Lettie knew from previous communications that RCF brought 250 people to the ground with them, most of whom remained back at their rural camp.

Finally, Lettie spotted the woman standing between a man very much her elder and one of the tallest men Lettie had ever seen in her life. The obvious age and height difference of her neighbors aside, the woman existed within the collective group without seeming to belong there—the traits of her counterparts failed to lessen her own position, but her individual place within the group as a whole intrigued Lettie. Arms crossed, the woman’s fingers methodically tapped against her bicep, whether intentionally or unconsciously, Lettie was unsure. Suddenly, feeling the intensity of a stare upon her, the RCF woman scanned OS’s own formation until her eyes met Lettie’s. The connection lasted only a few seconds before she turned her head back toward the Commander’s speech, ceasing the finger tapping altogether. Despite her best efforts, Lettie was unsuccessful in catching the woman’s eye again, reluctantly returning her attention to the ruling duo.

It wasn’t until later that evening, after they’d dispelled with speeches, grand tours, and introductions, that the stranger reappeared to Lettie once more. The entirety of the colony had gathered for a special dinner in honor of their guests. The menu included roasted green beans, a sweet potato puree, and a pair of deer caught that morning. Topped off with barrels of wine and beer, LuAnn and Luce had bent over backward ensuring the meal went off in spectacular fashion. While everyone else indulged and conversed loudly, Lettie managed several fleeting glimpses of the mysterious woman before Commander Koenig and his advisors were escorted back to their camp. Though brief, Lettie was plagued by the images in bed that night, blurred snippets of the woman’s features invading her dreams and playing behind her eyelids.

***

The next morning, Lettie managed to roll out of bed at a decent hour, hastened by demand rather than personal desire. A night owl at heart, a quick peek outside confirmed that sufficient layers were a must. After strapping on her combat vest, Lettie ensured that both her pistol and rifle were loaded and snugly fitted into their side and back holsters respectively. Though her mother was doing everything in her power to ensure that the increased security wasn’t obvious, the compound was very much on heightened alert with the arrival of Koenig and his people. A sour reminder of the task ahead departed with her as Lettie locked the front door, took the stairs to the lobby, and headed toward the city’s mall.

Though most of the Creek Center Mall remained intact, the Western segment of the massive building had burned down peak-Impact, and all that remained was the main atrium and eastern section. With exception to the mess hall, most of the area had been gutted, with many shops now doubling as residences and social areas. A quarter of Koenig’s staff had volunteered to reside within the downtown area for the duration of their stay. Lettie’s personal suspicions surmised that the act was about as voluntary as slaves being graciously offered a spot to work in Cypheria’s factories, but nonetheless, Command allowed it. Of course, unwilling to lead by example, Koenig himself chose to sleep in his camp outside the city limits, whether out of genuine concern for personal safety or satisfaction at being chauffeured by OS personnel back and forth between sites was debatable.

Glancing at her watch, Lettie noted her early arrival and took up position against the interior doors. This portion of the mall used to be a JCPenney but now served as a hub for gossip, laughter, and social affairs, any remnants of overwhelming perfume and overpriced clothing long dissipated. The wide-open floor plan housed various tents, tables, and makeshift sitting areas, those finishing the night shift briefly interacting with those about to go on the clock, killing time before their duties began. Lettie watched a group of kids surrounding a wobbling TV, invested in an old, animated kids’ movie, when she sensed someone striding toward her.

Even in her peripherals, Lettie immediately identified the incoming figure as one of the RCF advisors from her space-gray-and-white uniform, which stuck out almost violently against the otherwise dingy room. The garment was immaculate, painstakingly pressed, and the white layers underneath were encased by a tight-fitting bulletproof vest, as stainless as the rest of the ensemble. The only differences between yesterday’s full-fledged sentries and this ensemble were the missing combat helmet and lack of protective guards covering otherwise vulnerable points like the arms, legs, and neck. And that was where the coldness of the uniform stopped, the woman’s features anything but frigid.

Lettie’s pulse quickened. “You.”

The woman wore a guarded expression, not unlike the first time Lettie saw her on the stage yesterday. “I’m sorry?”

Without the company of her adjacent mismatched RCF companions, the woman seemed significantly more comfortable on her own, the tenseness that Lettie had sensed during the reception’s speeches dissipated.

“I…nothing. What are you doing here?” Lettie inquired, trying to hide her previous indiscretion, but faltering in the process.

“You are Leticia Valentine, aren’t you?”

“Yeah?” The fluster in Lettie’s voice was thick, her confusion coming off rude and unwelcoming.

The Front woman apologized once more, unwarranted. “I was told you would be meeting me here to escort me…at nine o’clock sharp.”

Understanding dawned on Lettie and she recalled her mother’s instructions late last night—at the time, she’d groaned, convinced she would be stuck guiding some uptight, old Front veteran around the Colony.

“You’re Captain Collins?”

“I am.” The words held a challenging edge behind them.

“But you’re…you’re so…” Lettie halted, looking for the right words, but came up speechless.

“So what?”

For a moment, the woman’s expression crept from suspicious to amused, the hard set of her eyebrows and lips relaxing like warmed clay. The shift shook Lettie, abruptly remembering who she was speaking with or rather, what. A member of the Renewed Citizens’ Front. And a commanding officer at that.

Her father’s voice echoed a familiar warning in Lettie’s head. A sword by which the body uses to display, wield, and reinforce its power. Watch out for them ones, they’ll cut ya down quicker than any real blade ever could.”

“Nothing. Excuse me.” Lettie extended her hand toward the captain, regaining her composure, and the woman shook it. Her hands were soft and contrasted the roughness of Lettie’s own. “Call me Lettie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lettie. Thank you for agreeing to show me around.”

A large group passed through the entrance next to them, bringing a gust of wind into the building and with it the mask shrouded the woman’s features once more.

“Should we get started, Captain Collins?”

The captain did not provide her first name and the fact was not lost on Lettie, the woman forcing her to continue to address her by her formal title. Lettie was unbothered by the hubris, surprising even herself. Brisk winds charged at them as Lettie opened the door, holding it politely behind her. In doing so, she noted that a loaded pistol sat in the holster attached to the captain’s vest.

“Please, let’s.” With an air of finality, Captain Collins pulled her jacket tighter around her and brushed past Lettie through the door.

The women spent the next two hours walking around the downtown metropolitan area, Lettie pointing out various areas of importance and their role in the colony’s prosperity. The awkwardness of their initial interaction ebbed quickly, most of their time together spent answering the waves of questions that the captain asked along the way, a commitment she was unwavering in, seemingly dedicated to learning everything she could about Salt Lake and its people. Captain Collins’s giddy curiosity and genuine interest in her new surroundings bewildered Lettie, causing her suspicion of the woman to wane. It wasn’t until the two were headed toward their last stop that Captain Collins paused to admire several large murals covering a building, their paint faded but still decipherable. Unreservedly, Lettie took the chance to take her in.

Thick eyebrows and eyelashes gave way to a set of wide eyes, dual bands of gold encircling mossy sea glass irises, all rounded out by full lips and a pointed chin that another might have defined as sharp. The signs of luxury she bore were impossible to ignore, touches of smooth makeup around her eyes and a pair of small, unquestioningly real diamonds in her ears. Dark brown and wavy, her hair was tied back in a complicated braid, and a few wisps had already escaped, framing her face at various angles. The woman was beautiful. A beauty that Lettie suddenly pinpointed, she was unused to. It was an alluring beauty that did not beg to be seen, not constructed for external forces, but simply existed. A beauty that managed to survive unapologetically on some hidden, unknown third plane of the sword her father had never mentioned before.

Lettie’s moment of admiration was abruptly interrupted when the captain spun toward her.

“Can I ask you a question?”

They continued walking east of the city center and Lettie recovered quickly, both welcoming the distraction, but the flashes of a flushed ear here, a loose hair there, the mystery of so much more to uncover everywhere, still lingered in her mind.

“Depends on the question.” Lettie readied herself to answer another inquiry about Salt Lake’s history or the primary school established by OS a decade ago.

“What were you going to say back there?”

Lettie’s assumptions toppled.

Captain Collins continued, “Back at the mall. You were going to say that I’m so…what?”

Understanding dawned and Lettie had to actively keep her feet moving. Not wanting to admit to her previous recognitions of the woman both on the stage and at the mall, Lettie chose a half-truth.

“It was nothing. It was just, well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kinda young to be a captain. I wasn’t expecting you,” Lettie motioned her hand at the woman, “this morning is all.”

Captain Collins let out a throaty laugh, and it was the first time all day that she’d let her guard slip.

“You’re joking, right?”

Lettie shook her head, not picking up on the quip.

“You’re one to talk.”

The captain didn’t allow Lettie time to respond, instead picking up the pace and continuing in the designated direction. Any attempts to inquire further into her meaning were staunched as the women arrived at their destination.

The clinic was housed in what remained of the local university’s medical building. Like the campus surrounding it, the clinic’s elevated position allowed a bird’s-eye view of the city center beneath it, appropriately deemed the Hill by OS. Patients requiring a trip to the clinic were described as “going up the Hill.” Unique in another regard, the Hill was the only area outside the CBD’s small grid with access to the colony’s limited hydropower reserve.

Luthor awaited their arrival at the foot of the clinic, exhaling a large puff of the wooden pipe held between his thumb and forefinger.

“That stuff will kill you, Luthor.”

“So far, so good.” Taking another puff, he studied Lettie’s counterpart briefly and then moved to greet them both. “Morning.”

“Luthor, this is Captain Collins.”

Crinkled eyes and beaming smile, Luthor’s spell remained unfailing, and Lettie tipped her head to the side, watching as Captain Collins physically relaxed, falling under the caretaker’s calming charm.

“It’s a true pleasure to meet you, Captain Collins. My name’s Luthor. I oversee our medical facilities here.” His eager engulfing of her outstretched hand into both of his boasted the genuineness of his words. “My colleagues and I are excited to get your opinion on a few matters. If you’d like, we can get started right now, Doctor.”

Lettie crinkled her eyebrows at the address.

“Absolutely,” Collins responded.

“I’m sorry, ‘Doctor’? You’re a doctor?”

Herein encompassed a longstanding problem with the outer-galaxy world and one that frustrated Lettie above most others. Despite her excellence in her field, information was near impossible to obtain from Cypheria. Most of the intel OS had on RCF was either accumulated over time, literally trickling down to them weeks later, or compiled from firsthand interactions. So, while the head of recon and intel knew every dictator-like detail about the Commander, she had no data on any of his advisors, Collins included.

“Among other things, yes, I’ve got some medical training.”

Lettie’s incoming onslaught of follow-up questions was interrupted by Luthor’s fangirling.

“Aye now, don’t be so humble.” He turned to Lettie and continued, “Captain Collins here has pioneered several medi-tech advancements in her field; she’s brought several boxes of the tech to Salt Lake and has agreed to help us implement its use for our own patients. I don’t know—”

“Please, this isn’t all my doing.” Captain Collins’s cheeks again bore a red tinge. “I simply volunteered the idea; Commander Koenig approved the contribution.” Her sentence ended abruptly, disclosing a half-truth somewhere along the way.

A group suddenly scampered past them, carrying their comrade on a makeshift stretcher, their shin protruding irregularly from the rest of their leg. Her companions’ gazes followed the troupe, anxious to get in on the action.

“Well, Captain Collins, I leave you in the good doctor’s capable hands. Luthor, try not to work her to death, yeah?”

In return, he gave Lettie a lopsided smirk and followed the tumultuous party, motioning for Captain Collins to accompany him.

“Thank you, Leticia, for the tour and spending your time with me today.” Her tone was once again formal, the girl Lettie caught a glimpse of at the murals vanished.

“Absolutely.” With that, Lettie turned and found herself back in the harsh wind, pulling her jacket snugly around her.

A short walk later, and the entrance to the convention center greeted her, pulling Lettie from her entranced thoughts about the curious captain, replaying the softness of her hand in Lettie’s own. She shook her head, physically ridding herself of the absurdity and focused on the tasks at hand. The rest of the afternoon passed in a fog, during which Lettie met several more advisors, the next more uninteresting than the last, all eventually meshing into an unremarkable blur of dull men and women.

Finally dismissed from the seemingly unending meetings, Lettie trekked the seven miles across town to the Southern border to make it just in time for her watch shift. The sun had fully set, and she was far enough from the hubbub of downtown that the area was almost completely silent and dark, except for the occasional bird or gust of wind. Upon arrival at the station, Lettie yanked on the makeshift door handle, partly rusted from the elements, but it stood fast, locked from the inside. Giving it another shake, she knocked loudly, simultaneously focused on the surrounding area, her alert eyes moving back and forth. Muted voices were audible inside, but it was several minutes before anyone opened the door. Finally, the bolt inside gave way and out strolled Nyla, pulling her arms through her jacket while also balancing her tactical vest in the nook of her elbow.

“Hey. That’s my bad.” The younger woman’s eyes failed to meet Lettie’s, instead focusing on adjusting her attire. “Done lost track of time. I’ll uh…I’ll holla at you later.”

Before Lettie could respond, Nyla was trekking away, the night sky swallowing her. Lettie’s entrance into the small, shrouded guardroom found a similarly disheveled Tristan, and all confusion cleared. Tristan’s dark plum lipstick was smeared, and half of her locs had escaped her bun. Coolly, Lettie set her rifle on the table in front of them and turned toward the lookout window, facing the empty roads attentively.

Half an hour passed wordlessly, Tristan finally breaking the silence. “Look, I was gonna tell you and I’m sorry you had to find out this way. It wasn’t—”

Momentarily tuning her out, Lettie turned inward. The lump lodged in her chest wasn’t jealousy. Nor was it quite anger either. Hell, upset wasn’t the right emotion either. It was the nonchalant tone in Tristan’s voice that Lettie couldn’t shake. It took all Lettie could muster to compartmentalize the situation and keep her personal opinions out of play.

“I highly advise finding somewhere else other than the sentry station to take care of your personal business. You’re lucky it was me and not another department head. Next time, you might not be so lucky.”

“Oh, fuck you, Lettie. Don’t you dare talk down to me. You don’t get to break up with me and then give me shit for moving on.”

She revolved to face Tristan, ready to disagree with the accusation, but Tristan continued curtly.

“So, what’s it then? It was cool for you and me to hook up on duty, but no one else?” She fixed her with a look that would’ve made most back down immediately, but Lettie endured.

“Nyla isn’t just anyone else,” Lettie responded, choking out a laugh. “She’s in our unit! She’s my reporting soldier, for Christ’s sake.”

“That didn’t stop me and you, did it?”

Inside, Lettie was seething—she was unconcerned with Tristan moving on, but rather bothered by her audacity to do so with someone close to Lettie. Tristan moving on was inevitable, but of the thousands of people that made up OS, it never occurred to Lettie that it’d be someone Lettie saw every day. Her own increasing exasperation over the betrayal made Lettie worry about what she might say, so she chose to remain silent.

The rest of their shift passed in silence, either woman occasionally leaving the tower under the guise of checking the perimeter, when it was really to avoid the uncomfortableness engulfing the small hut. As the hands on her watch struck eleven o’clock, Lettie could see their replacements headed toward the checkpoint and stood to leave, slinging her rifle over her shoulder.

“Look, I’m only telling you this, not because I give a shit ’bout your personal opinion”—the way her arms were crossed and hips cocked, Tristan was telling the truth—“but because I don’t want you to hold it against the girl. We only just started seeing each other like a week ago. I really like her, and I think she likes me too.”

“Good to know,” Lettie remarked, nodding mockingly as she left the door wide open behind her.

With a curt nod to their replacements, Lettie wrestled to get her emotions under control. The conversation continued to replay in her head. By the time she made it back downtown, the annoying realization that she had indeed been in the wrong for the way she reacted picked at her menacingly. Hesitating, Lettie lingered out front of her building, several well-meaning hellos interrupting her silent contemplation, debating turning around and tracking Tristan down—the sudden image of bumping into the new couple twice in one day ultimately vanquished the idea.

Instead, the promise of distraction beckoned her toward the Depot, thankfully only a few blocks away. Also located outside of the radius of the convention center’s electric grid, the streets leading to the western border were dark, but Lettie took comfort in the familiarity of them. Striding up, the twinkling string lights outside the Depot welcomed her, their generator-powered luminescence emitting enough glow to see by.

Gaggles of people loitered outside, but the real party was inside, past the vendor tents that had been locked up for the night, where the serenade of live instruments blared from the market-by-day. Walking through the massive doorway, Lettie moved swiftly to avoid an incoming throng of people swaying back and forth in perfect synchronization. Recognition sparked between longtime friends, and pats on the backs coupled with quick embraces were exchanged, the smell of sweat and beer quickly submerging her in its grip. The building wasn’t power heated, but there were enough people present that the collective succeeded in creating their own organic source of warmth.

Nimbly, Lettie worked her way through the animated crowd, bumping into a small but well-supplied bar squeezed into the back corner of the hall. Lettie claimed the middle barstool and quickly waved down the waiter’s attention.

“Bourbon, double please.”

The unfamiliar bartender gave her an inquisitive look, the question in his shining eyes clear. Ripping open the Velcro of a pocket on her vest, Lettie produced a pack of hastily rolled cigarettes secured in brown parchment paper; nicotine wasn’t her preferred fix as she disliked the way it made her lungs feel clogged and heavy, but around Salt Lake, reefer made one hell of a good bartering item—all vices did after the Impact. Lettie placed the joints on the bar and he moved to grab them, but not before she could intercept his clammy hand. Beer and wine may have been free, within reason, and the hard stuff always came with a price, but not that high of a price.

“There’s a half dozen in there. Gotta be three drinks, at least.”

The man nodded briskly and returned quickly, placing a small, scratched glass in front of her. Knocking the dual serving back, the liquid burned the rear of her throat as Lettie replaced the glass back on the counter. As she turned to survey the room further, the glass was refilled, and the bartender’s attention was quickly apprehended by the next customer. Lettie’s gaze canvassed the room slowly, and she was startled to find that several of the newly initiated Hoodou were scattered throughout the room. As they mingled, all rigidness and wariness of the first few weeks seemed to dissipate. Among them she spotted Isaac, beer in hand as he presented some elaborate story to a group of people, the occasional clap and cheer egging him on. Lapping up the last sweet drops of her drink, Lettie left the stool, effortlessly maneuvering her way through the crowd. Her attempt to drift at the back of the group was foiled immediately as Isaac’s stare darted from person to person, finally landing on her by accident, lighting up.

“Lettie!” He bodied his way through the surrounding group, closing the space between them, and embraced her tightly.

“Hey, my friend.” Lettie returned several other hellos and acknowledgments warmly before Isaac slung his arm around her shoulder and maneuvered the two of them onto the outskirts of the room.

“How are you? We have not seen each other in a while, yes?”

“I’m living. Surprised to see you out so late, considering the last time we were here together.”

He let out a baritone, full laugh. “How could I forget? Earned me a verbal lashing from LuAnn the next day, and my rations were cut in half for days, but it was worth it, no?”

“Absolutely. ’Sides, LuAnn’s bark is worse than her bite.”

“I do not intend to find this out.” He took a sip of his beer and then continued. “Ah! I owe you a huge thank you, by the way. Aida loved your hike together. She hasn’t stopped talking about it since—I am afraid you may have gotten her hooked.”

Lettie thought back to her time with the girl only a few days ago. “No thanks needed. She’s a cool kid. I’m happy to go more often if she’s down. You’re welcome to join us.”

The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence while they both took in the dancers and musicians flitting about.

Isaac’s next words changed tone from one of intoxicated giddiness to earnest focus, transitioning so quickly Lettie questioned the legitimacy of his previously buzzed stupor.

“You’ve met Commander Koenig, yes?”

The topic caught her off guard, but she saw no reason to answer untruthfully. “Yeah.”

“What’d you think of him?”

“Honestly? No idea. I’ve spoken all of ten words to the guy. If it weren’t for all the showing off, formalities, and reports, I’d think he was just another guy.”

“But he is not just some other guy.” His response was cold, all previous glee gone from his voice. “He is personally responsible for the murder of thousands of innocents, and he commands his people with an iron boot on their throats.”

Lettie peered into Isaac’s muddy eyes, no longer looking at her, but focused on something far off, something only he could see.

Lettie placed her hand on his forearm, forcing him back to the present.

“I can’t begin to understand what RCF put you through, what you’ve lost, but they are here now, and we have the chance to make sure they don’t mess with us ever again, none of us. Shit, we could help every colony on Earth if this works.”

“It is not just the Colonies, Lettie. I have heard how he plagues Cypheria just as badly, tearing families apart, forcing people to work for RCF. If it’s not here in the Colonies, it’s somewhere else. If it is not a member of OS, it is one of his own citizens. It will never end until we put him down.”

Remnants of the first time Lettie met Isaac loomed, the man, exhausted, beaten, and hungry, still willing to do anything for his people and his daughter. The anguish his voice betrayed sounded as if little had changed between now and when he’d been strapped to the chair.

“Those are not our people, Isaac. You, me, the people in this building, that’s who we are trying to negotiate for.” She looked Isaac directly in the eye. “Command has spoken. The goal is peace. If you do anything to jeopardize that, you’ll be disciplined, and you’ll take a lot of good people down with you.”

The last line hit hard, as they both turned to look at the cluster of people awaiting his return.

“Up until six weeks ago, our people were not the same, Lettie. Is it justice that we make a deal with the devil if it means only the people in this colony are saved? I am happy that we are on the same side, but I cannot forget what already has and will happen to the people who don’t have such luck. To men like Koenig, we are all the same colony, all the same color, all the same people.”

Lettie was silent, processing her friend’s disclosure.

Whatever switch Isaac had flipped previously was switched back, and he took an ample swig of his beer.

“This stuff is stronger than I thought. I better get back. Enjoy the rest of your evening, my friend.”

With a pat on the back, Isaac returned to his entourage, and Lettie took up her seat back at the bar. Waving down the bartender, Lettie indulged in her last drink, avoiding the advances of a nearby zealous dancer. She headed toward the exit, the wind alone accompanying her on her walk home.

***

The next morning found Lettie near the entrance of the remodeled JCPenney, mirroring the same position she’d taken up twenty-four hours prior. This time, her gaze followed the captain as the lithe woman scaled the no-longer-working escalator through a throng of people. A few of them greeted the captain knowingly with head nods and waves hello, while several stares lingered longer than was normal. As Captain Collins drew near, Lettie noticed that her ensemble was almost the same as yesterday’s, with the exception that Captain Collins no longer wore the stark white bulletproof vest, allowing her own eyes to drift uninfringed over the exposed curves of well-defined chest and legs. The same pistol sat nestled against her waist, the holster perfectly adjusted to avoid sliding out of place.

“You seem to have some admirers,” Lettie teased.

“I could say the same for you.”

Captain Collins gestured at a group of children about five feet away, who watched them wide-eyed. Realizing they’d been caught, the curious gaggle dispersed in various directions, the youngest one falling behind the others.

“I’m glad to see you’ve accepted my request.”

Lettie returned her eyes to the captain and couldn’t help but notice the increasingly familiar braid, this time, hardly a strand out of place; the neatness must have taken her extra time this morning.

The recollection of Lettie’s conversation over walkie with Luthor late last night returned easily. “I have, with some…conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“We’ll get to those later. Let’s go get some chow first.”

Not allowing time to protest or question, Lettie was out the door and Captain Collins followed suit. A brisk fifteen-minute trek brought them to the mess hall, the long room bustling due to the early start they’d managed. Once it was her turn in line, Lettie graciously loaded her plate with scrambled eggs, sausage, and some indiscernible hash that had large chunks of a green vegetable in it.

Not holding back, Captain Collins followed suit, heaping huge portions of food onto her plate. As the two claimed a place near the outskirts of the building, it was impossible to ignore the stares that lingered over their table. After several minutes of eating, Lettie’s heaping spoonfuls quickly outpacing the captain’s polite nibbles, the former broke the silence.

“Are you gonna finish telling me how you became a doctor?”

Greenish-gray opals studied Lettie quizzically, not expecting the question. Captain Collins took a large swig of milk before responding, politely clearing her mouth of any food.

“There’s not much to tell. After my parents died, I enlisted with the Front. Doctors were in short supply, so I volunteered for training and the rest is history.”

The nonchalant tone she took about her parents and conscription was glaring, but Lettie refrained from bringing it up.

“Why a doctor?”

“Why not?”

Lettie assumed the response was rhetorical and remained silent. Captain Collins continued, twisting her spoon haphazardly into her eggs.

“Back then, there were a lot of people waving guns around and not enough trying to save people from them. Guess I wanted to be different, help instead of harm.” Her eyes met Lettie’s briefly and then returned to her plate, as if she’d said more than she meant to.

“Not that my opinion matters, but that’s a damn good reason. That first week after everything started turning to shit, everybody and their grandma, literally, picked up a gun. I mean, picture that, right? A bunch of old ladies with their wigs running wild ’round DC, handbags in one hand and a 9mm in the other. It was terrifying.”

There was silence as Captain Collins studied Lettie’s somber features, but then, provoked by a devilish smirk, she released a snort of laughter.

“Grannies and Glocks, God I bet that was a sight.”

They were still cracking up when Lettie spotted a group of people moving toward them over Collins’s shoulder. Stillness sprung as the nearest person sat to her right, the others filling the empty space around them. Captain Collins didn’t flinch at the sudden newcomers, instead studying them intently, curiosity etched over her features.

“Join us, please.”

Several chuckles sounded at their leader’s sarcastic flat response to the encroachment, followed by an orchestra of audible slurping and smacking.

“Hope we aren’t intruding.” The curt remark was delivered by Tristan, who didn’t hide her hard stare across the table at Captain Collins. Nyla sat next to her and averted her eyes when Lettie’s glance rolled over her.

“Not at all. Your timing is perfect.”

Lettie raised her voice so that all eleven newcomers around the table could hear her clearly. “Everybody, if you’ve not already met her, this is Captain Collins. Captain Collins, this is my second, Tristan. That’s Nyla, Gino, Kion, Lorenzo, Meredith, Dejá…”

She continued pointing down and up the table, until she’d finally made her way back around to the start, mentally noting Nico’s absence.

“Captain Collins is gonna be joining our unit for a little while in the hopes of both helping us with recon and maybe picking up a few things to bring back and apply on Cypheria.”

“Yeah, a few things like how to better spy on the Colonies.” Tristan uttered the words loud enough that they could be heard over the room’s loud roar.

Lettie turned to address the comment but was cut off.

“It’s nice to meet you all. I’m honored to have the chance to learn from you and hope I can return the favor.”

Kill ’em with kindness. Though not her guide’s default choice, Captain Collins’s approach was effective.

Several people around the table shot the captain nods of welcome and returned to their breakfast. Morning chatter dying down, Lettie stood, motioning for Captain Collins to follow. Turning to Tristan and Nyla beside her, she picked her empty tray up.

“Next time you’re over at headquarters, clear some work space for the captain.”

Tristan remained silent and Nyla answered instead, the first words she’d spoken to Lettie since last night’s incident. “I got you, Lettie.”

Before they departed, Captain Collins spoke, addressing the table. “Thank you for the warm welcome. I look forward to getting to know you all.” Her eyes lingered on Tristan during the last words, neither breaking the stare until Lettie and Collins turned to leave.

Lettie raised an eyebrow as she placed her tray onto a metal cart.

“That was bold. But you should be careful—Tristan’s bite is as bad as her bark. She’s a bulldog through and through.”

“I’ve dealt with worse.”

***

“This is condition one.”

The sun hovered directly overhead as they stood in the middle of one of the hundreds of miles of highway that had been left deserted and useless after the Impact. Several vehicles had been pushed together parallel across the road, all in various states of disarray and abandonment.

“I don’t understand,” Collins retorted.

Though their current location wasn’t that far outside of the city, it was still uncharted territory for Collins, having kept to the boundaries of downtown Salt Lake since her arrival.

“If you’re going to train with my unit, I need to know you can protect yourself and protect the person next to you.”

As Collins watched closely, Lettie walked several paces toward one of the cars and spray-painted a giant X on the driver’s door of a white Acura, the red paint dripping like thick blood. The can of paint clattered to the ground as it dropped, disturbing a flock of crows that erupted into the clear afternoon sky.

“Hit the X,” Lettie instructed, walking back and taking up position behind the other woman.

Collins glanced behind her to ensure Lettie was being serious, and she nodded her head, opening her arms wide.

“It’s just me and you this far out. No need to worry about stray bullets.”

Not seeing an alternative, Collins pulled the pistol from her holster and cocked the slide back, the first bullet loading into the chamber. It was a Smith & Wesson M&P, all black with a red dot sight, and she spread her legs knowingly, ready for the power the pistol would deliver. Exhaling, Collins let off five successive single-fire shots, each one landing near the center of the X, the last boom hanging in the air. Replacing the pistol in its holster, she turned to Lettie, a mockingly bored stare across her face.

“Pretty good.” Removing the rifle from her back, Lettie passed it over, muzzle pointing upward away from them. “Pistols will only get you so far though. In the field, you need to be able to ensure a kill shot within your first few shots. Any more and you risk taking some heavy return fire, especially if there’s more than one combatant. One or two well-placed bullets from this baby, though, and it’s game over.”

Handing the gun off to her, Lettie jogged back toward the vehicle and lined up three littered beer bottles on the car’s roof, all side by side. Returning to her trainee, she couldn’t help but stare, the light clean tones of Collins’s outfit sticking out against the derelict, dusty freeway.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she instructed, nodding her head in encouragement.

Collins gripped the rifle tightly with both hands, the butt nuzzled in the space between her right shoulder blade and clavicle. Letting off six shots, faint smoke drifted from the muzzle as she lowered the gun in her hands. She’d hit the first bottle, but the second and third remained completely undisturbed.

“You’re letting the gun buck. You’ve gotta compensate for the power and recoil with your body.”

Lettie took control of the rifle once more, took up a shooting stance next to her, and aimed at the remaining targets.

“Focus on your breath after each shot and use that time to pick out and take aim at the next target, firing only once you’ve found the next target, not before.”

Lettie squeezed the trigger twice, took a breath, and then twice more. Lowering the rifle, she examined her handiwork; both bottles were no longer visible.

“Got it?”

Instead of answering, Collins corralled the gun from the other woman, expertly loading a new mag into the weapon, her brow furrowed in concentration. For the next hour they switched between varying target distances, keeping with the same pattern of successive shots. By the end of the session, even though it couldn’t have been more than forty-five degrees outside, a sheen of sweat glimmered on Collins’s forehead. She reached up to wipe it with the back of her hand, pausing from the bruise that’d already begun to form in the pocket of her right shoulder.

“Let me see.”

“What?”

Lettie gestured to the affected shoulder and Collins held her limb out gingerly. Standing an arm’s length away, Lettie carefully maneuvered the bicep back and forth, her other hand massaging Collins’s shoulder; Lettie could feel the muscle that was carefully hidden behind her fancy garb.

Collins watched her intently as she worked. “How’d you learn to shoot like that?”

Lettie welcomed the distraction from the closeness of their bodies and responded in kind. “I have my brothers to thank for that. We all three started training with OS pretty young, but I think it was being the only girl and the competition between us that made me want to be the best. For a while they had physical strength over me, especially Junior, but I’ll never forget the first time I whooped his ass in a fight. He was pissed for days. After that, I think we realized we all had our own special edge.”

“Junior as in Roman, your older brother, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“I’ve heard one or two of his recruitment broadcasts on Cypheria. He is quite the speaker.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

The line earned Lettie one of the woman’s rare full-fledged smiles.

“I’ve only met him once, but he doesn’t seem like you; he’s not as…warm.”

Lettie stowed the positive assessment in the back of her mind to dissect later.

“He used to be. But not so much recently. People say he takes after our dad. And like our dad, there’s a reason he is the way he is.”

Leaving it at that, Lettie dropped Collins’s arm gently, grabbed her rifle from where it leaned on the ground and turned toward the direction of downtown.

“We should get going. Luthor will be waiting.”

***

Their arrival at the clinic was coupled with Nico waiting inside the lobby area of the building, as previously instructed. He and Lettie bumped fists, and his eyes moved to their counterpart, sizing the woman up, warily.

“Captain Collins, meet Nico. He’s my third-in-command and your new bodyguard.”

Nico extended his large hand in greeting. “Nice to meet—” but was cut off.

“Excuse me?” Collins questioned, looking between them.

“This is condition number two. As an advisor to Koenig and a guest of our wonderful city, I need to ensure your safety at all times. Nico will—”

“I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“It’s a precaution, and it’s only when you’re not with me or at the clinic. If you’re going to be allowed free reign around the colony, it’s this way or no way.”

White-clothed arms crossed over her stark uniform, and fingers drummed against forearms furiously, several moments passing as she contemplated the proposition.

“Fine.” The former coupled with the hard set of her mouth conveyed she wanted to say more but didn’t.

Lettie put her hands behind her back and turned toward Nico. “Then that settles it. Nico, you’ll meet Captain Collins back here once her shift with Luthor is over.”

He nodded in timid agreement, his guarded expression revealing he was not looking forward to the assignment. Lettie was okay with that, though, because her friend was one of the only people she trusted with the task. Reaching into her backpack, Lettie retrieved a black walkie-talkie and handed it over.

“You’ll need this. I’ve preprogrammed my channel and Nico’s into it for you.”

Collins took the radio compliantly and clipped it onto her waist.

“That brings me to condition three. If you’re going to train with us, you’ve got to commit. No days off. You train everyday just like the rest of us. If you think that’s too much, tell me now and we won’t waste—”

“That it?” The steeliness with which she held Lettie’s gaze in an unwavering lock as she cut the woman off was tantalizing.

“Yes.”

Despite a sudden dryness in Lettie’s own mouth as soon as the word escaped, Collins turned and walked away from the group, maneuvering forcefully through a set of doors that led to the doctors’ offices.

“Well, that was shitty. Ain’t never had no woman stomp away like that after being told she gets to keep me company all day,” Nico griped.

“I warned you, this one’s different.”

***

It wasn’t until Lettie arrived at the clinic that the tension began to ebb out of her shoulders, physically rubbing the nape of her neck in the hopes of massaging away the day. Three weeks had passed since RCF landed, and that meant constant bureaucracy and formalities bogging down every day.

The building was busy, but the clinically clean sheen of Captain Collins’s uniform stuck out even in the severely bleached lobby area of the med bay. Lettie’s eyes followed the doctor as she assisted an elderly lady onto one of the intake tables, using her own solid weight to ensure that the lady exerted the least amount of strength on her ascent. The engrossment with which Lettie watched her begin to take the woman’s wellness readings was halted only by Luthor’s appearance from a side room, greeting her with a smile, breaking her concentration.

“You’re early. It’s not even sunset yet.”

“Hey, yeah, sorry, too many meetings full of nonsense today. I needed something else to focus on.”

Exaggerating, he made a dramatic sweep with his head from herself to Captain Collins, who still attended to the elderly woman.

“I bet you did.”

“How’s she doing so far?” Lettie questioned, ignoring his previous comment.

“Really good. It took a hot minute, but the people around here are really warming up to her. Her skill speaks for itself.”

Any further questions were stolen from Lettie’s lips when the doors behind them were thrust open and a woman stumbled in, a huge man propped against her for support. The man was barely coherent, open lesions donning his face, arms, and hands. Neither were recognizable, but it didn’t matter as the woman’s shrieking immediately sent the room into a whirlwind. Luthor sprang into action, lobbing questions at the woman while simultaneously relieving her of the mass of a man.

Following suit, Captain Collins left her patient safely settled on an examination table and took up the other side of the man. Together, they were able to drag him through a swinging pair of doors, and his companion followed suit, hurriedly, leaving a trail of disarray in their wake. Their exit had left the room with a frantic undertone lingering, but as the minutes passed, it returned to its normal buzz of activity once again.

Alone, Lettie sat in one of the plastic waiting chairs, watching as patients and staff members blurred past her, all in a rush to either get answers or give them. Finally she glanced at her watch. A little over thirty-five minutes had passed. Any inclination to leave was quickly quelled when Captain Collins exited from the same set of doors, her eyes searching and finding Lettie’s.

“Hey.”

As Collins took the seat next to her, Lettie studied her person and realized the woman must have changed because her attire didn’t display a hint of the previous carnage.

“Hey”—she motioned with her head to the double doors—“he gonna be okay?”

Collins rubbed her eyes, revealing the stress the incident had caused her. “I have no idea. He’s still in surgery. His wife is freaking out. They live up in the mountains, took a horse to get here. Apparently, he and his buddies were out hunting in a no-go zone when his friend accidently shot him. His gas mask took the brunt of the bullet, but the damage exposed him to the radiation. Wife said he stumbled back home half-dead and puking up blood. Then when the ulcers started forming, she decided to bring him here. The gunshot wound is treatable, but the real concern is acute lesions developing internally.”

Though she didn’t have a medical background like Collins, Lettie needed little explanation on radiation poisoning. Unaffected by the nuclear blast radiuses, OS’s territory in Salt Lake dealt little with the threat, but much of the area between established colonies required protective gear to navigate safely. She’d seen firsthand what short-term exposure to high levels of the toxic air could do to a person.

“Shit. Are you gonna stick around to help?”

“Mmm, no, Luthor is handling it so the guy is in the best hands possible.” She exhaled an audible sigh. “There’s nothing else I can do to help at this point.”

“I gotta admit, it’s crazy to think that in the world post-Impact, people are still managing to almost kill themselves in freak hunting accidents.”

The doctor let out a scoff of laughter, the seriousness in her face lightening a fraction, tension slipping from her eyebrows and forehead.

“Even the end of the world can’t fix people’s stupidity.”

Lettie moved to get up, positioning her rifle behind her back when Collins stopped any further movement with a hand on Lettie’s forearm. A part of Lettie was admittedly disappointed when the contact was broken, and she shook the feeling off.

“I’m sorry to be annoying, but can we stop and get some dinner before we start? My head is killing me.”

“Absolutely, I know just the place.”

***

If Collins had been stressed earlier, it was hard to tell once they arrived at their destination. All traces of the doctor’s previous mood quickly dissipated, and it was difficult for Lettie not to be entertained by the engorged size of the other woman’s eyes as she took in the various shops and vendors at the Depot. The look reminded Lettie of a young child’s fervent gaze after entering a candy store.

The timing was perfect. Most people were still at the mess hall eating dinner, and the festivities that were sure to emerge come nightfall hadn’t yet started, leaving the sprawling market empty, with the exception of themselves and a few stragglers.

After a few moments of gawking and detailed scrutiny of each booth they passed, Captain Collins finally broke the comfortable silence, aware of Lettie’s eyes following her.

“I’m sorry to be rude, it’s just, we don’t have anything like this back home.”

“Don’t apologize.” Lettie’s laugh came sincerely. “It’s nice to walk through this place with someone who’s never been. It makes me feel like I’m seeing it again for the first time.”

“How can you not be completely amazed every time you step foot in here?”

She shrugged. “I dunno, it’s my home. It’s been a while since I’ve known anything else.”

“That’s fair,” Collins replied, nodding seriously. “In the last several years, there’s been a crackdown on large gatherings of people during certain hours of the day in the Capitol, so it’s almost impossible to find places like this anymore.”

Silently, Lettie digested the information, wanting to inquire further about the evident over-policing off-world but decided doing so would only result in raising the wall that Collins had temporarily lowered. And Lettie couldn’t ignore the enjoyment that experiencing the woman so unguarded brought her. Before she could think further on the matter, they arrived at the stall Lettie’d been looking for, the scent tipping her off before her eyes.

“What is that amazing smell?”

Lettie gestured toward the little shanty of a shop, declaring, “You ain’t lived until you’ve eaten Maude’s moo ping.”

On cue, Maude returned to the roaring grill positioned out front and expertly turned over a multitude of skewers with a massive pair of tongs, taking extra care not to drop any of the meat. A miniature woman with an old, tattered apron tied around her plump waist, Maude commanded the grill like no one they had ever seen.

Collins watched Maude in awe as she whipped out a big bowl of an unknown sauce and slowly slathered each skewer with a lethal amount of the mixture. The excess sauce dribbled off the pork and burnt up in the fire, turning into smoke and smothering the immediate area in the charred smell. The origin of Maude’s appearance was unknown, but she’d been there since the colony could remember, cementing herself as a staple within the Depot district. As Lettie explained this to Collins, Maude signaled that the next batch of skewers were ready, and the line of hungry customers began to surge forward.

When it was their turn, Lettie rummaged through the breast pocket of her coat and pulled out two small coins, both no bigger than a thimble; though the mineral had diminished in value since the Impact, many people were still willing to part with items for enough of the dated cupronickel currency. Maude smiled at the duo and handed them two piping-hot skewers. They moved out of the way of the crowd and both began to greedily devour the delicious street meat. Lettie found another vendor who was serving hot chocolate and bought two cups, handing one over to Collins. The sight of the woman with a skewer in one hand and cocoa in the other caused Lettie to let out an audible laugh.

Collins eyed her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re just funny.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

They finished their skewers, and instead of leaving to return to training, they walked side by side through the rest of the market, taking in the sights and talking about various topics.

Lettie was critiquing Collins’s pronunciation of “Utah” when the slightly shorter woman’s face suddenly froze, body following, her abrupt pause halting their stroll altogether.

“Uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just playing around.”

No response came, and Lettie was positive she was being tuned out. Following Collins’s line of sight toward a sequestered corner of the market, her own gaze landed on a group of three people huddled together; they were far enough that the weak lighting of the market barely swept over their figures.

The group was made up of two men and a woman, her top-endowed figure clearly the main concern of her counterparts. The prominent body feature contrasted the rest of the woman’s body, her underweight condition obvious even under the jeans and oversized coat she donned. Though her face was covered in a thick coating of full makeup, it took only a slightly longer glance to discern that she was no woman and couldn’t have been older than sixteen. Paper-thin skin stretched tightly over cheekbones and the thinning of her curled hair were offset by the cautious smile plastered on the girl’s face. Suggestively, the men reduced the circle around her, rifles strapped to their backs, probably having recently returned from training or a watch. Turning back to Collins, Lettie shifted to try to get her to move along when across the street, the girl tried to edge her way between the hulking figures and the taller one grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her back against the side of an abandoned train car.

“Get back here, you burbie whore.”

Without hesitation, Collins closed the space between them, Lettie caught off guard by her speed. The men’s backs were to them, and Collins grabbed one by the shoulder, spinning him around and causing him to release the girl.

“Let her go!”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Sounds like she wants to join, Jay,” his comrade spoke up, giving a grisly smile to Collins.

“I think not.” Lettie moved toward the group, close enough that the men could see her face and, if need be, she could reach Collins and the girl easily enough. Both men did a double take once they recognized her, their bodies going rigid and standing at attention.

“Lettie. We were just trying to—”

“I know what you were trying to do. And now I suggest you get going and find your fun somewhere else.”

The one who grabbed the girl moments prior, Jay, dug up the same courage to respond in like. “But we already paid her!”

“Think of it as a donation to the needy. Now leave. If I see either of you at the Depot the rest of the night, I’ll ensure your patrols are tripled and your rations are cut.”

The clench of his jaw betrayed that the man wanted to retort, but his friend nudged him, and he thought better of it.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Both men let out quick yeses and turned to leave, out of sight for the moment.

Collins knelt, the tenseness of the standoff having little effect on her. “Are you okay?”

The girl nodded but didn’t speak, clearly more shaken up by the incident.

She moved to leave, but Lettie sidestepped, cutting off her exit but making sure not to touch her.

“Not so fast. Did you take their money?”

Lettie motioned her head in the direction of the departed men.

The girl’s gaze traveled back and forth between her rescuers, debating whether to lie, but thought better of it.

“Yes. I need it for my family.”

“Where do you live?”

“Sugar House.”

Lettie recognized the suburb located about thirty minutes outside the compound.

“You shouldn’t be out here, especially at night.”

“I can take care of myself.” She could tell neither Lettie nor Collins were convinced and moved to explain. “Most of my customers are usually fine, but those guys were new. I didn’t know they’d be such assholes.”

“There’s a lot more where those came from. They could have killed you or worse. A burbie girl like yourself, your family wouldn’t even know what happened to you.”

Knowingly, Collins halted any further chastising, removing her own heavy scarf and looping it around the girl’s neck.

“What my friend means is you need to be more careful.”

The girl nodded her head. Lettie couldn’t help but hope their advice had stuck. Collins let go of her hands, signaling her allowance to leave. As the girl collected herself and moved to depart, Lettie dug into her jacket again, removing the remaining silver coins.

“Hey, kid, here. This should set you up for a while. Find a safer line of work, okay?”

The girl’s eyes were wide as she grabbed the coins from her hand and stuffed them in her pack, shuffling away before anyone changed their mind.

“God, how old do you think she was?”

“I don’t want to know,” Lettie responded, shaking her head. She glanced at Collins sideways, her companion’s eyes still trailing in the direction where the girl had disappeared. “Everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“I’m fine. She just reminded me of someone, that’s all.”

Lettie nodded, not wanting to pry further. “Well, both she and that girl are lucky people like you exist.”

“You mean people like us.” Before the words had fully left Lettie’s mouth, Collins grabbed her hand, the warmth of her fingers a shock to Lettie’s own frigid ones. “You had no reason to do any of that. Thank you.”

“It was the right thing to do. Plus, I couldn’t let you take all the glory, now could I, Collins?”

“Michelle.”

“What?”

“My name, it’s Michelle.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Michelle.”

Chapter
7

The rest of the week passed without incident. Collins, Lettie, and the rest of the recon unit settled into a comfortable, albeit exhausting, routine of reviewing incoming intelligence and running drills. It was during a particular drill focused on non-lethally incapacitating one’s opponent that tempers flared.

Located in what used to be one of the bigger conference rooms of the convention center, blue safety mats covered half the room, with the remaining area clustered with various fitness machinery. Despite the working ventilation and the dropping temperatures outside, the room was muggy and humid, causing layers of sweat to coat everything and everyone inside.

On one of the center mats, Lettie watched as Collins was swept onto her back by Lorenzo, a man who had at least sixty pounds on her. Menacingly, he stood over her, full-teethed and grinning, a movement short of raising his hands in victory. As Lettie thought he was about to do so, Collins delivered a kick to the back of his knee, crippling him instantly to the mat floors. Before her opponent could recover, Collins was off the ground and quickly maneuvered one arm around the mass of Lorenzo’s bulky neck, the other providing leverage to tighten the constriction. Lorenzo attempted to wiggle free and regain his balance, hoping to use sheer strength to overcome the lock, but the loss of circulation to the brain made doing so impossible, and his attempt only caused Collins to tighten her arms even more. Hefty face beginning to turn red, Lorenzo wisely tapped his hand against her forearm. Lettie blew her whistle, signaling the end of the bout, and Collins released her arms instantly, quick to offer a helping hand to the young man, who rubbed his neck, clearly disappointed with the unexpected loss. Victorious, Collins helped him up and then made her way to the water station on the side of the room, returning several high fives and fist bumps along the way.

As she neared Lettie, the unit head couldn’t help but stare at the way wisps of hair, the majority of which was up in its usual braid, stuck to the nape of her neck, coated in sweat. The fluorescent lights gave a harsh glare on the rest of the room but seemed to bathe the light freckles on the woman’s face and sheen of perspiration within an ethereal shimmer.

“Good shit, Collins. If I had to throw money down, I’d bet you’ve whooped some ass before.”

“I’ve had my fair share of victims.”

“I’m sure. Keep training like that and maybe one day you can hang with the big dogs.”

Lettie raised her arms up over her head, flexing exposed biceps, and Collins laughed, water almost escaping from her mouth.

“Maybe you should put your money where your mouth is and show the beta how to really throw a punch.”

A newfound tingle traveled down Lettie’s neck as Tristan sidled up to the recently vacated mat and began securing her long locs into a sloppy bun, some of the smaller pieces popping out from the rest. Other than her signature plum lipstick, Tristan didn’t don any other makeup, and her head was held high to let her voice travel to as many listeners as possible.

“Unless you’re still on the mend.” She posed her fingers in air quotes on the last word.

Lettie smirked, shaking her head. “Speaking of ass whoopings, I’d love to, but someone’s got to supervise you animals,” she retorted, holding up the self-explanatory whistle that lay around her neck.

“Bullshit.” Tristan entered Lettie’s space, getting familiarly close to her face, and gingerly removed the whistle from around her neck, eyes locked the entire time. “Nico!”

Their third-in-command was across the room, laying into a punching bag, when Tristan summoned him over. Jogging, he stopped next to them expectantly. Their little instigation had drawn a crowd, and most of the room had all but stopped sparring, preferring instead to whisper wagers on their proposed victor.

“Nico will ref.” Tristan tossed him the whistle, and he caught it easily in one of his large hands. “Any more excuses?”

The smirk was gone from Lettie’s face, no longer impressed with the show Tristan was trying to put on. “Round goes until first tap.”

Happy to finally be indulged, Tristan grabbed a pair of fingerless gloves, slipping them over her wraps.

Lettie sat on one of the closest benches and Nico helped her wrap her hands.

“You sure ’bout this? You know she’s just tryna rile you on up, right?”

Lettie didn’t respond and her best friend sighed, continuing to wrap. Glancing to her left, Lettie spotted Collins at the edge of the mat. The woman watched Tristan intensely, who was stretching out her arms in the middle of the sparring area. Like the first time Lettie saw her, her arms were crossed, and she tapped the fingers of her hand against her forearm restlessly. Nico slipped the gloves onto her hands and secured the straps, signaling he was done. As she walked past Collins onto the mat, Lettie brushed the captain’s shoulder with her own.

“Don’t look so worried.”

Lettie was close enough to register the startled breath that Collins exhaled, having been discovered. Flinging a final sideways smile at her, Lettie slipped her mouth guard into her mouth.

Tristan jumped up and down on her toes, swinging her arms back and forth, contrasting Lettie’s completely still presence.

Knowingly, Nico didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“Aight ladies, I wants a good fight, clean’s optional. First to submit wins. Fighters ready?”

Tristan nodded and Lettie followed suit, taking up her fighting stance, right foot positioned slightly forward.

The whistle shrieked and Nico backed up, leaving the two women alone in their own small encircling.

Right away Tristan threw a dramatic superman punch forward, but Lettie easily avoided the flamboyant shot, stepping out of the way. Continuing her aggressive press forward, Tristan swiftly closed the space Lettie had created and landed a quick jab and cross. Predicting the surge forward, Lettie recovered quickly, blocking Tristan’s hook, and using the momentum to land a hard straight kick to her torso. A lesser fighter would’ve required time to recuperate from the direct kick, but Tristan shook it off and came back at Lettie with full force. In the hopes of slowing her down, Lettie moved to throw a left cross, but Tristan knowingly caught the arm with both of her own and pulled Lettie in closer, hands locked behind the other woman’s neck, and got off two knees to exposed ribs before Lettie was able to regain possession of her trapped arm.

The hell-bent women went back and forth, blocking and throwing equally stunning combos, until Lettie hit her opponent with a well-timed right hook straight to the ear. Tristan was shaken by the impact, and Lettie used the opening to wrap her arms around her torso, sweeping her legs, taking them both down to the mat.

Lettie remained on top of her and landed several elbows to Tristan’s face and neck. Despite the solid knocks, Tristan still moved to try to regain a dominant position on the ground, albeit slowly. Lettie swooped in for the finish, allowing her victim to roll onto her side while maneuvering Lettie’s own legs around her neck and gathering her right arm in a vise-lock grip between her hands. Lettie held her in the combination arm bar and headlock, squeezing tighter every few seconds. Though she couldn’t see Tristan’s face from that angle, experience told her the woman’s lungs had to be screaming for air, and the loss of blood flow to the brain would eventually cause her to black out.

“Yield,” Lettie muttered over the mouth guard.

Tristan refused, and Lettie continued to hold the lock, the prolonged exertion wearing herself down as well. Lettie maneuvered to constrict further when Nico was suddenly next to her, tapping her leg and prying her limbs from Tristan’s neck.

“That’s enough, Lettie!”

Reality rushing in, Lettie released Tristan’s arm, sliding away from her, sitting exhausted and slightly bewildered on the mat. Little droplets of blood dripped from her nose onto the blue mat, and she was unsure of when it began. The training room was silent, the previous cheers of support dissipating with the jovialness of the competition. Lettie watched as Nico and Nyla attended to Tristan. After a few moments, her second-in-command was finally able to sit up from the mat, and her ragged coughing began to cease.

“The hell is wrong witchu? You shoulda yielded! You coulda suffered a damn brain injury. Or worse! And you.” Nico turned from Tristan to Lettie. “How long was you gone choke her out if I ain’t stop you?”

Lettie didn’t answer. She had no answer to give. Nico had a point and everyone, including herself now that she was no longer being goaded, knew it. She’d lost control and almost killed a member of her unit and one of her closest friends. As the two helped Tristan to her feet, each acting as a crutch, Lettie rose from the mat and stormed into what used to be a small utility closet but now operated as the gym’s makeshift locker room. She slammed her forearm against one of the lockers and it rattled resoundingly. Dropping onto the wooden bench, Lettie began to roughly undo the hand wraps, subsequently using them to try to staunch the blood dripping from her nose. The frustrating tasks clouded her vision, causing her to miss the opening and gently closing of the closet door.

“You should let me take a look at that.” Collins moved to kneel in front of her.

Lettie considered refusing but the warm calmness that’d swept into the room was comforting, and Lettie dropped the bloody wraps, letting the doctor have a look. Kneeling between her legs, Collins slipped on a pair of gloves from a first aid kit and pulled out two cotton swabs that looked like giant Q-tips without the sticks. She shoved one and then both swabs up Lettie’s nose, carefully but efficiently, preventing the blood from continuing to leak.

“Now lean forward and breathe through your mouth.”

Lettie did as directed, and Collins squeezed the bridge of her nose firmly. Though the area was sore, her touch was soft and caused little pain.

“You weren’t lying about kicking some ass, huh? Though whose ass is more kicked at this point, I am unsure.”

Lettie snorted at her words and immediately regretted it, spitting out the blood that had escaped into her mouth.

“No jokes, please.”

“Sorry.”

Collins inserted another pair of swabs, replacing the saturated ones. In the process, one of her hands managed to grasp onto Lettie’s knees to steady herself, and Lettie was highly aware of the contact.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” Lettie’s voice came out wheezily over the swabs.

“What Tristan said before, a beta, what did she mean?”

“It’s stupid, best not to pay Tristan any mind when she’s like that.”

“Stupid enough to get in a fight over?”

Though Lettie detected no judgment or humor in the woman’s voice, she couldn’t help but feel like there was more to the question. Collins must have interpreted the quizzical look on Lettie’s face as offense because she backtracked slightly.

“Today wasn’t the first time I’ve heard it. What does it mean?”

Lettie’s attempt at a sigh came out gurgled. “It’s what they—we—call people from Cypheria. The second planet humans colonized, planet beta.” Lettie took another clogged breath, trying to collect her thoughts. “You gotta understand, we were taught that everyone who escaped to Cypheria were bigoted assholes, selfish cowards with money who didn’t give a shit about if the rest of us lived or died. Cowards and disloyalty have no place in the Colonies. It’ll get you killed. So, yeah, a beta is a stain down here, less than.”

Collins let the words sink in. “Sounds a lot like Cypheria actually.”

Lettie was attempting to interpret the words’ meaning when Collins spoke once more.

“How long were you two together, you and Tristan?”

The battered woman was taken aback and inadvertently cleared her throat, causing more blood to escape into her mouth. She spit again onto the cement floor before answering.

“What makes you think we were together?” Lettie responded, answering the question with one of her own.

Collins let out a dry laugh. “I know a lover’s spat when I see one.”

“Off and on for two years. Mostly off though for the last year.”

“Mmm.” Collins replaced her thumb and middle finger over her patient’s nose, squeezing and holding for a few minutes. Lettie was sure the topic had been dropped until the woman spoke again.

“Why’d you break up?”

For a moment, Lettie thought about lying, unaccustomed to discussing such intimate details out loud, but decided against it.

“She wanted something I couldn’t give her.”

Collins’s attention traveled from her work on Lettie’s nose to her eyes, clearly caught off guard by the raw truth. Her thick brows furrowed in anticipation of questioning Lettie further when the closet door opened once more. Surprise sparked as Junior entered the room, followed closely by Nico, who no longer wore any of the annoyance and anger from earlier. Her brother was quick to note how close the two women were and glanced back and forth between them inquisitively.

“How’s everything going in here?” His voice boomed in the small space.

The full suit he wore contrasted comically with the ratty locker room.

Collins, sensing the mood change in the room, moved to stand, and carefully took the pieces of cotton out of Lettie’s nose. The blood above her mouth and around her nose had begun to dry, but no new fluid came out.

“My prognosis is she’ll live.”

Junior continued to stare, his eyes eventually traveling down the entire length of Collins’s body. He did so in one swift motion, so quickly that Lettie was sure she was the only one who noticed his carnal assessment of the captain.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Lettie?”

Gripping her hands around the edge of the bench hard, Lettie didn’t respond.

“Fine.” He moved forward to shake Collins’s hand, but thought better of it when he saw the bloody gloves. “I’m Roman Valentine, Lettie’s older brother.”

Collins responded with a curt, polite smile. “Captain Collins.”

“You’re the doctor, right?”

“Indeed.” She lifted her hands and wiggled the bloody gloves in front of her chest.

“Well, Captain Collins, I apologize for my sister’s lack of manners. Etiquette was never her strong suit.”

“We all have our faults, some more than others.”

Lettie interrupted, trying to ignore the inquiring look in Junior’s eye. “How is Tristan?”

“Girl’s pride is hurt more than her body, so that’s somethin’. I done sent everybody on their ways. I just wanted to check on ya ‘fore I left for my watch, but looks like you in good hands already.”

Nico and Junior’s huge forms made them both look like giants crammed in a small cave.

Lettie stood from the bench and moved to the rusting janitor’s sink in the corner, washing the blood from her hands.

“I should go check on her.”

“No can do. We’ve got a meeting to get to. Mom wants to meet with Command in thirty-seven minutes.” Her brother glanced at his flashy gold watch, obviously not impressed with her pace of movement.

Lettie ignored him and looked toward Nico.

“Probably best to let her cool off for a minute. You know how she gets. ’Sides, Nyla’s with her, so she’ll keep eyes on her.”

Lettie nodded, knowing her friend was right once again.

Collins stripped off her gloves, threw them in the trash bin, and moved to put her jacket over the tank top she was currently wearing.

“I should get going. I need to get cleaned up before my shift at the clinic.”

“I’ll walk ya,” Nico offered.

Lettie was surprised when she didn’t protest, and the two moved to exit the room.

Before they could leave, Junior had to have the last word.

“I hope to see you soon, Captain Collins, maybe next time with less company.”

Unfazed, Collins tossed him a quick “nice to meet you,” offered Lettie one last fleeting glance, and they departed.

After a quick shower, Lettie was back in her usual jeans, boots, and bomber jacket. Except for the guards who stood ever present throughout the building, personal weapons weren’t allowed in the convention center, and her back felt bare without the rifle strapped to it. Junior was silent while they rode the elevator to the top floor, the mechanical box clearing out the higher it went, eventually just the two of them left in the stuffy box. Looks weren’t the only trait Junior took after their mother. He’d also inherited her ability to keep his expression completely blank, portraying a picture of calm emptiness, while inside, Lettie knew his mind spun endlessly.

“Ready for your first official meeting back?” Lettie turned toward him as they arrived at their floor, the elevator dinging open.

“You’ve been working with that Collins girl, right?”

Lettie was taken aback by the change in subject and nodded her head in lieu of a verbal response.

“What do you think of her?”

Mind still jumbled both by her fight and their current topic of discussion, Lettie grasped for appropriate words. “I don’t know. Fast learner. And she’s got the whole medical thing going on; Luthor acts like she’s the second coming.” Instinctively, Lettie threw in a shoulder shrug for good measure.

Junior’s voice remained even, staring forward at the elevator doors. “That’s Luthor; what do you think of her?”

In a moment of truth, Lettie spoke her mind. “She’s different, not what I expected. She seems like good people, that’s all.”

“A beta that’s different?” he scoffed. “That’s a first. Sounds intriguing. And dangerous. Keep your guard up around that one, L.”

Any further inquiry into what he meant was made impossible once a second set of guards came into view, signaling their arrival at the conference room. Lettie followed her brother through the doors and maneuvered to take her seat, returning several nods of greeting in the process. She rolled her eyes as several members who had previously voted in favor of Junior’s sentiment made an exaggerated show of welcoming him back to duty. Christian caught the gesture and lifted his fist to his cheek, moving it back and forth in rhythm with his tongue in the opposite cheek’s pocket. Laughter from those who caught the rude gesture followed, as did dark glares from Junior and his idiot backers. As their mother entered, the room fell into silence, the remaining stragglers taking their seats. The matriarch didn’t bother calling the meeting to begin, as all the seats around the table were full, fervently awaiting an explanation for the last-minute assembly.

“Thank you all for convening on such short notice. I know you all have very important duties to attend to, both as members of this board and within your own departments. So, I’ll keep this quick and get right to it.” Regina stood at the head of the table, her hands on the back of her empty chair. “Obviously those who’ve sat in on meetings with Commander Koenig and myself are already aware, but our painstaking progress has finally arrived at a point for which the endpoint is within view. The Obsidian Society’s peace treaty with the Renewed Citizens’ Front is in its final stages of completion.”

Most of the members around the table broke out in claps of approval, including those who’d initially been against the treaty. Joining them, Lettie paid careful scrutiny to Junior, who bore his mask again, neither outright approval nor disapproval showing plainly on his face. His lack of a negative reaction surprised Lettie, and from the way their mother’s eyes lingered on his before moving on, her small smile never fading, she’d expected the same.

Once everyone had quieted back down, Regina continued. “To mark the monumental occasion of our new allyship, we will be hosting a banquet, specifically that of a Thanksgiving nature, in three days’ time. LuAnn and Luce will spearhead setting up the festivities. I expect full cooperation from all present in ensuring things go smoothly.” Regina finally took her seat, denoting she was done, and gave the room to the next speaker.

One after another, the respective department heads rose to present information they’d deemed important enough to bring to Command’s attention. On behalf of reconnaissance, Lettie passed and LuAnn took the floor last, assigning each department specific tasks to complete and resources to procure in preparation for the celebratory event. As the meeting concluded, Regina stood once more, and everyone followed suit. She quickly thanked everyone for attending and their input and adjourned the meeting, disappearing immediately to her office.

Pushing her chair back from the table, a mild pang stabbed through Lettie’s torso, where Tristan had landed a particularly solid kick, and she knew her ribs were going to be sore once again for the next few days.

“Lettie.”

She turned around, taking careful attention not to twist too quickly, and found Christian standing behind her.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You look like shit,” he said, studying her face.

The comment was rude, given how painstakingly she had rubbed to wash away all the blood from her face and arms, but the present shroud of sweat that still caked the rest of her skin was unbothered.

“At least I can always count on you to break it to me straight.”

“Somebody’s got to tell you when your shit stinks. Better to be family than not,” he retorted, flashing her a goofy smile.

It was the natural back-and-forth mockery between them that Lettie realized she’d missed the most; the two hadn’t hung out in forever, she too caught up in RCF’s, specifically Collins’s, arrival on top of the day-to-day grind. Though he still wore the same boyish grin, Christian had let his curls grow out, and a few particularly springy ones drooped down into his eyes, forcing him to occasionally push them back up, to no avail. Though Lettie didn’t recall it being there before, dark facial hair sprouted haphazardly across his jaw and lips, extending into some goatee-looking thing. Nervously, Christian looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to them and leaned in closer.

“Do you think you can stop by tonight?”

Lettie picked up on the weird behavior and lowered her voice to match his. “Yeah, of course. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s nothing, but I want to show you something I found.”

Her interest was instantly piqued, but Lettie trusted her brother’s judgment to wait until later.

“I’ve got a training session tonight, but I can come over after.”

“How late are you thinking?”

“I don’t know, like ten.”

Christian squinted one eye, calculating something in his head. “Okay, yeah, that works. Radio me when you’re coming over though, okay?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” she bellowed, giving him a half-assed salute.

He playfully slapped her hand down from her face and moved to resume sitting at the now empty table, pulling out two massive laptops, and proceeded to bury his head in the screens.

Once Lettie finally escaped the room, she left the building and clambered back to her room, falling onto the messy bed, and was asleep in minutes. A tickling feeling woke her up sooner than she would have preferred, and Max pummeled her, licking her face willfully.

“Okay, okay, I’m up. Jesus.”

Lettie pushed the dog’s fat head away and moved to stand. The room was pitch black and she reached knowingly for a pack of matches on her nightstand, lit one, and hovered it over the wick of a large candle, illuminating the room enough for her to find clean clothes. Lettie threw on black jeans and a matching long-sleeve shirt and then toppled on the rest of her gear. Looking at her watch, she had just enough time to get to the clinic if she skipped dinner. Darting into the kitchen, she rummaged around the cabinets, found the brown packages she was looking for, and threw them into her backpack. Max barked excitedly as she placed a heap of leftover shredded chicken into the dog bowl, and with a final head scratch, Lettie grabbed her guns and was out the door.

***

The clinic was bustling upon Lettie’s arrival, so much so that the lobby overflowed with patients nursing various ailments, resulting in her usual waiting spot being occupied. In its stead, Lettie stood outside of the entrance, leaned up against the rough brick wall when Collins finally emerged from the building.

“Why aren’t you inside? I’ve been looking for you.”

Lettie stood up straight, surprised by the lack of greeting and accusatory tone.

“Um, my bad—there’s a lot going on in there. I figured I’d just wait for you out here.”

Collins rapidly did up the buttons on her heavy wool uniform jacket and forcefully pulled on her gloves.

“It’s freezing out here. You should have waited inside.”

Lettie was slow to respond so she continued.

“Please excuse my lateness. We should get going.”

Getting the hint, Lettie took the lead and began to walk through the streets. They were silent most of the way, and the few times that Lettie tried to initiate conversation, she was met with clipped, short answers. It wasn’t until the sidewalk gave way to dirt trails that Collins saw fit to even look up from the cracked pavement.

“Where are we going? This isn’t the way to the convention center.” Her particularly snotty tone only fueled Lettie’s next words.

“You’re right, it isn’t. Given your current demeanor, I thought we’d put a pause on the heavy stuff and give you a taste of the day-to-day here.”

“What does this have to do with my demeanor?” Collins replied with extra emphasis on the last word.

“You’re clearly upset about something, so I thought we’d get out of the city and get some fresh air.”

Lettie shrugged, continuing to walk in front of the other woman, a slight grumbling sigh her only assurance that Collins was following.

When they finally reached the watch post, Lettie greeted the two men they were replacing, who hurriedly left the way they’d come, Lettie locking the door behind them. The post was north of the city center and expertly placed at the trailhead of an old hiking route that had been abandoned a while back.

Like the other watch stations, the small log shack was meager, just big enough to house a set of bunk beds, a small wooden table, two chairs, and its two occupants. At the back of the shack, there was a crudely made chimney that housed a well-used fire pit, the fire from their predecessors still roaring full force. Though simple, the shack provided the necessary foundation to house its guards for as long as need be, emergency supplies and extra kindling securely tucked away.

As Lettie explained, the captain listened halfheartedly, a lack of participation revealing she did so solely out of common courtesy. Once they settled at the rectangular watch window, Lettie’s own well-used rifle contrasting her companion’s standard-issue government one, she led Collins through the protocols of sentry duty and explained how important it was to remain diligent and attentive, thus the reason sentry duties were always assigned in pairs. Once she’d finished saying her piece, Lettie moved to throw a blackened kettle on over the fire.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually.” Collins didn’t drop the binoculars from her face, continuing to take in the small clearing before them.

Once the water was boiling, Lettie removed the two packages from her pack and poured some of the steaming liquid into each packet. Careful not to spill them, she returned to Collins, taking the seat next to her, and passed the food. The woman laid the binoculars down and took the piping hot container.

“Dinner is served.”

“What is this?” Collins studied the packet incredulously, to Lettie’s entertainment.

“It’s an MRE, Meal Ready to Eat. Military used to eat ’em out in the field. There was a boatload of ’em leftover from the old nearby air force base.”

Leading by example, Lettie utilized the plastic spork to lift some of the contents from the bag, heat rising from the opening.

“It’s lasagna.” She shoveled a fat bite into her mouth.

Collins made a face but followed suit. Her chew and eventual swallow were exaggerated, and Lettie handed over her canteen.

“You’ll want this.”

After she’d swallowed and taken a swig, Lettie stared at her, waiting for her diagnosis.

“Salty, but not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Oh, just wait, it’s a lot better going in then it is coming out.”

Collins paused mid-bite, and it was impossible for either woman to hold back the onslaught of juvenile giggles that followed. A familiar air of playfulness returned as they both consumed every scrap of the entree, Lettie passing Collins the pack of M&M’s that accompanied the MRE. The sound of their chomping on the sugary chocolate pieces filled the little hut, eyes studying the empty clearing. Collins broke the silence first.

“I’m sorry for my shit demeanor earlier.”

It dawned on Lettie that the moment was the first time she’d heard the captain swear and the fact amused her, but she remained quiet, letting Collins continue.

“Remember that couple from last week, the wife and her husband who almost got himself killed while hunting?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was right—we tried every method possible to slow the abnormal growths taking over his cells. Even the technology from Cypheria was useless. The guy started to nosedive this morning, so Luthor and I made a last-ditch effort to remove a particularly invasive mass from his neck.”

She didn’t miss the grimace that showed on Lettie’s face.

“Better to be missing a portion of your throat then be dead.” Collins took a deep breath. “He went into surgery today and didn’t come out.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Luthor hadn’t said a word to the wife before she broke down in tears. She just knew, ya know?”

Lettie studied her closely and watched as a range of emotions passed over Collins’s face.

“I am so sorry, Collins. That had to be hard as hell to witness.”

Lettie wasn’t sure why she did it, but her hand was embracing Collins’s before she could think better of it, her rough palm intertwined tightly with Collins’s softer one. Collins glanced down at their interlocked hands but didn’t pull back, and Lettie was silently relieved. Instead, she rubbed the pad of her thumb in the space between Lettie’s thumb and forefinger, playing over the raised bridge of a scar there.

“Yeah. It’s just weird. I’ve seen enough people die before, especially after the Impact, that at a certain point, it just stops hitting you—you stop feeling the losses like you used to. You’re in this field long enough and you see and do some crazy stuff but this…” She trailed off, her thought unfinished but coherent.

“I know it sucks ’cause you’re in the thick of it, but maybe it’s a good thing, what you’re feeling right now. I think in this shit where all these crazy, scary things have become routine, that shouldn’t be one of them, even if it does happen every day. Death shouldn’t be easy. It should hurt.”

For a moment, her eyes were locked onto Lettie’s, and though Collins wore a slight smile on her mouth, her eyes were humorless.

Lettie felt as if the woman was looking through her, to something whose existence evaded Lettie. The feeling was mildly uncomfortable, and just as Lettie could no longer bear the pang in her stomach, Collins let go of her hand, standing so abruptly her chair tipped backward.

“Oh my goodness!”

Pushing past Lettie, she threw the entrance door open and sprinted outside.

“Collins!” Lettie grabbed her rifle and trailed her outside, gun cocked and raised at the ready. “Michelle!”

The moon and a sky full of stars provided enough light for Lettie to make out Collins’s figure standing several meters in front of the sentry station. Diligently, Lettie searched the tree line checking for any signs of danger but saw none. When Lettie finally closed the space between them, she found Collins’s head tilted up toward the sky, expectantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s snowing!”

The bewilderment that had seized her moments ago melted away just as Lettie realized that the lake-effect freeze had finally stuck, producing big powdery flakes of snow. Despite the few seconds they’d been outside, it was clear the flurries were falling at an increasing pace.

“It’s been so many years that I forgot how much I used to love the snow!” Collins twisted and turned, all signs of previous stress gone. “It’s too dry back home. I haven’t seen the stuff since I lived on Earth.”

Without warning, Collins grabbed the watchful woman’s hand and pulled her in close. Lettie moved to avoid fumbling the rifle resting over her shoulder.

“Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue!”

Lettie watched as the flurries multiplied, coating Collins’s hair and eyebrows, and probably her own, in white; the silly appearance in conjunction with her request made Lettie laugh.

“You’re crazy.”

“Just do it, one time, for me.”

Offering little resistance, Lettie complied, tilting her head back and opening her mouth. The little flakes landed on her tongue and melted almost as quickly as they’d come.

“Tasty, right?”

“For sure, it’s like I can almost taste the years of pollution right in one bite-sized snack.”

“Hilarious.”

Collins threw her a stink eye, but the disapproval didn’t last long as her attention refocused back on the falling precipitation.

Lettie studied her companion as she twirled back and forth; even the minute gesture seemed cautious, though this was the most carefree she’d seen the captain since she arrived in the city. Collins returned her tongue to her mouth, but her lips were still curved into a small smile, delighted at such an otherwise meaningless thing. Enthralled, Lettie’s breathing slowed, caught in a sluggish time-lapse. Before Lettie could think better of it, the same force that overtook her in the cabin compelled her to remove the beanie from her own head. As she neared, Collins slowed her twirl and faced the slightly taller woman.

“Just because it’s beautiful doesn’t mean it won’t hurt you. You’ll need to get some better winter gear soon. The first snowfall usually means winter is about to hit full swing.”

Without waiting for permission, Lettie slipped the cap onto Collins’s head, ensuring that she stuffed as much of her dark brown curls into the hat as possible. Task completed, their faces lingered inches from each other, close enough for Lettie to make out the small snowflakes as they landed onto the other woman’s face and melted away, leaving behind mini puddles. Lettie could feel her breath against her face and moved to close the space between them when Collins suddenly shivered and took a couple of steps back.

“You’re right. It’s starting to pick up. We should get back to the station.”

Before Lettie could respond, Collins was marching back toward the shelter, Lettie left in her wake, reeling slightly from the lines she’d been about to cross.

Once they’d secured the door against the increasing snowfall, Lettie picked up the overturned chair and moved it across the room next to the fire.

“Relax and warm up. I’ll take first watch.”

“Are you sure? I’ll be okay. I can help.”

They hadn’t been inside for more than two minutes, and Collins’s cheeks were already turning red from the welcomed heat.

“I’m sure. We can trade places in a few. I’m not letting you off that easy.” Grinning, Lettie turned her back, taking her seat at the open window, rifle close by on the table.

The next four hours passed quickly, neither woman addressing the moment in the snow, instead preferring to swap gossip and stories about the local residents.

“For someone who’s only been in the city for two weeks, you sure do know a lot about who’s who and who’s doing what and when and with who.”

Collins laughed at Lettie’s scrutiny and shrugged.

“People naturally open up to doctors. It’s kind of difficult not to want to spill your soul when someone’s seen into your orifices.”

Lettie was about to ask her to explain when a knock sounded at the door and their replacements came barreling through the door, stomping snow off their bodies.

Good job keeping a lookout, Lettie. Thankfully they weren’t here to kill us. She mentally chided herself for losing focus.

“Sorry we’re late. That snow came outta nowhere, and it’s hell to walk in, especially this far outside the border.”

Lettie looked at her watch and swore in surprise. Not only were they late, but it was almost 10:38, more than half an hour past the time she’d agreed to meet Christian. Lettie cleared the table, letting the man and woman get settled, Collins doing the same, when she caught Lettie biting her lip and glancing at the time.

“Got a hot date?”

“Not quite. I was supposed to meet Christian tonight, and it’s gonna take us at least forty minutes alone to get back to the mall in this weather.”

“I can make the walk back home just fine by myself, Lettie.”

“Not gonna happen. It’s fine. I’ll just let him know I’ll be awhile.”

Collins proceeded to watch as she tried several times, unsuccessfully, to get a hold of Christian on his walkie, the failed attempts earning another barrage of swears.

“Let me come with you,” she insisted.

“What?”

“Where does he live? Your brother.”

“Uh, in one of the city’s theaters. Not far from the convention center.”

“That’s in the opposite direction of the mall. It doesn’t make sense for you to go in one direction to drop me off just to turn around and go the opposite way. Take me with you.”

Lettie tried to fathom a reason to argue with her, but her logic was sound, and it would save her a lot of time shivering her ass off.

“Fine. But as soon as I can get Nico on the radio, he’s escorting you back to the mall.”

“Deal.” Collins’s arms were crossed in proud triumph, and Lettie couldn’t help but be entertained by the smug grin on her face.

They said their goodbyes to the new duty officers and headed out into the snow, both making sure every zipper, button, and latch was secured tightly to combat against the increasing flurry. As they trekked through the elements, Lettie pulled out her radio again and tried to get a hold of Nico, but there was no response. Lettie looked down at her feet, positive that the snow, which was beginning to stick to the ground, was at the root of the failed relay. Her combat boots were doing a decent job of providing traction on the increasingly slippery surface, and she turned to check how her companion was doing. Though she wore similar boots, except in gray, and bore the same benefits, Collins’s head was bent low to keep the snow out of her face. The navy blue beanie Lettie had placed on her head was now white, covered in fresh ice. Despite the tumultuous conditions, Collins remained close to her, trudging along at her right shoulder. Neither of them spoke a word as they trudged to their destination.

When they finally arrived at the little theater, Lettie immediately noticed that the front entrance door, its thick brass handles standing out, had been propped open by a thick brick. From the small pile of snow that had accumulated in the opening, it was evident it’d been open for a while. Lettie let Collins go in first and then followed, removing the brick from the door and ensuring it closed quietly behind them. As they made their way through the theater atrium, Lettie led them toward the singular unlocked door, stopping suddenly, Collins almost crashing into her back.

“What’s wro—”

Lettie turned on her, forefinger over her mouth, signaling Collins to be quiet. She complied instantly, following Lettie’s gaze to the door. Another brick lay on the floor, the glass panel within the nearest door smashed to pieces.

“Something’s wrong. I need you to stay here while I go inside.”

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” she whispered, vehemently.

Lettie thought about arguing with her, citing the unknown threat, but refrained; two guns were always better than one. Lettie had no clue how many people might be inside, and time was crucial if they’d done something to Christian.

Without further discussion, Lettie produced her pistol from her shoulder harness and Collins followed suit, both ensuring their weapons were cocked. Lettie slowly opened the door and entered the auditorium, being careful to avoid stepping on the broken glass. Collins mirrored her steps and quietly closed the door behind them. As normal, the house lights were off, which made it difficult to make out a possible intruder, but Lettie didn’t let it panic her, relying on the fact that the low visibility went both ways.

Assuming the intruders had made their way directly toward the stage, Lettie and Collins walked in a uniform line, the former watching the front and latter covering their backside. Lettie took the jump onto the stage first, pistol at the ready, her finger off the trigger but prepared to fire at any moment. A creak behind her right shoulder indicated that Collins had also made her way onto the stage without incident. There were tons of boxes and random tech covering the stage, some sitting on tables, others strewn in various positions on the floor, nothing unusual there. After Lettie cleared the main stage, accelerated by the fact that there was little way to take inventory of her brother’s personal curated pile of chaos, Lettie led them backstage.

Carefully, she pulled back the red curtain, taking in the small hallway. Once she determined the immediate vicinity was clear, Lettie held the curtain for Collins and they quickly entered the corridor. Finally, they stood before a second curtain which separated them from Christian’s bedroom, and Lettie realized her heart pounded at the thought of what it would reveal. A noise like someone rummaging through something echoed, and Lettie pulled back the black fabric rapidly.

A woman stood over her brother’s large circular desk, bent over the area, searching through his papers.

“Where’d you say—” She turned toward them and froze at the sight of their pistols aimed straight at her.

“Who are you and where the hell is my brother?”

The intruder’s eyes were wide, and she wisely raised her hands into the air.

“I think there’s been a little misunderstanding.”

“Bullshit, you broke in here.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong but…”

Lettie moved toward her slowly, and the rest of her sentence faded away.

“Lettie, I think—” Collins stopped mid-sentence as someone else shuffled out from the other side of the room.

“Did you find it?”

Quickly but steadily, Lettie swung the gun toward the newcomer’s chest before realization dawned on her.

“Shit, you’re okay,” she exhaled in relief, returning her weapon’s barrel to the primary assailant.

Christian looked up from the tablet in his hand and looked between both parties, taking the scene in.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he uttered, hurriedly tossing the tablet onto the nearby desk, and jogging over to them, placing his body between them and the woman. “Lettie, look at me. I’m okay, we’re okay. She’s a…friend.”

Lettie studied him, noting he seemed to be unharmed, and then looked between him and the woman he blocked, her shorter frame almost completely overshadowed by his. Dropping her weapon, Collins did the same and returned it to her holster.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“What are you even doing here?”

“You told me to stop by tonight!”

“Yeah, two hours ago,” he retorted, looking at his watch.

“I lost track of time,” she responded nonchalantly and tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Why didn’t you answer your radio?”

Christian’s face broke out into an expression Lettie’d never seen before, and he quickly surveyed the room, grasping for a response.

“I—I was…busy.”

Not convinced, she broached the matter of the open door and broken glass windowpane.

“I propped the door open earlier”—he gave a quick glance to the woman behind him—“she must have forgotten to close it after her. And the glass, well, the glass is old, I meant to clean it up sooner.”

“Jesus, Christian, I could have killed the both of you!” Lettie didn’t yell but raised her voice enough to convey her irritation with the situation, the surplus of adrenaline still coursing.

“I’m sorry,” Christian replied, running his hand through his hair, “but to be fair, you really should start announcing yourself before you just roll up into a man’s home.”

Lettie rolled her eyes but remained silent.

The woman behind her brother took advantage of the lag in conversation and finally spoke.

“Well, now that the guns are all put up, I’m Remy.” Closing the space between them, she gave a small coy introduction to Lettie. “Not really how I expected to meet”—she paused for effect, mimicking a crowd cheering—“the great Leticia Valentine.”

Lettie shook her hand, partially to amend for almost shooting her in the face, partially to get a closer look at her. As she gripped the small thin hand, it was impossible to miss the tattoos that immersed her arms, the hues of green, blue, and red glinting in even the smallest amount of light within the room.

Remy’s jet-black hair hung loose in a neatly cut bob, further contouring the sharp angles of her jaw. The color of her hair and dark brown eyes rimmed in thick eyeliner paired well with her light olive brown skin. Lettie’s gaze fell onto the standard-issue dark gray uniform, though she wore the corduroy jacket tied around her waist, revealing a plain white tank that’d been cut off at the midriff.

“You’re a part of the Front.” Lettie motioned toward the jacket.

“I work for the Front, yes.”

“You might know each other then.”

All three of them turned toward Collins, who although momentarily forgotten, had been studying the girl more intently than Lettie had, her features bearing the full effects of her wary guard. Whatever her personal thoughts, decorum won out and Collins stepped forward to shake the girl’s hand as well.

“I’m—”

Remy’s face took on an expression that harshly contrasted her youthful features and held her mouth in a tight line, cutting Collins off. “Oh, I know who you are, Frankenstein.”

“Do not call me that again.”

Collins clenched her fists, and Lettie cocked her head, trying to utilize context clues to figure out what the hell had passed between the two women. She looked at Christian, and he wore the same confused expression.

“What’s that old-timey saying? A monster by any other name is still a monster. Don’t matter what you wrap her in.”

Collins strode forward to invade Remy’s space and Lettie reacted, pulling her back by the wrist before she could take any further action.

Christian moved in front of Remy, once again shielding her from potential threat.

“Well, obviously you two are already acquainted, so how about we move on,” he cut in, plastering a nervous smile onto his face. “I’m Christian, Captain Collins, right?”

Begrudgingly and letting out a sigh of what Lettie assumed was relief, she took her focus off Remy and looked at Christian.

“Michelle, please.”

“Ah yes, the doctor, right?”

She nodded her head.

“You treated a member of my unit, pretty bad tibia break, cried like a baby,” Christian inquired, trying to jog her recollection.

“Yeah, I remember them. They were so worried about having to amputate I had to have Luthor pump them full of sedatives just to get the cast on.”

Lettie watched them as Collins’s hands unclenched and her shoulders relaxed, the previous moment’s tension visibly easing from her body.

“What are you doing running around with a doctor, Lettie? I’m surprised Luthor let a fellow medical nerd out of his sight.”

Hearing her name, Lettie tore her gaze from Collins.

“We’re training together. I’m showing her the ropes.”

His next comment was directed at Collins. “That’s my sister for ya, even with the enemy in our midst, she finds a way to infiltrate and make friends.”

“Could say the same about you.” Collins threw a glare toward Remy before lightening up. “Does your sister always put her ‘friends’ on lockdown with personal guards?” she responded, playing along with Christian’s jest.

“Well, actually, now that I think about it—”

Unsure if Christian was about to recount a similar instance, Lettie didn’t wait to find out.

“I thought you said there was something you needed to show me,” she interrupted, cutting him off.

He got the message instantly. “Yes, actually, the files are over here.”

Remy had lingered away toward the monitors, returning to look for whatever it was they had interrupted her at earlier. Lettie and Christian looked between her and Collins.

“Go, I’m sure we can be cordial for a few minutes.”

The captain turned away and took a seat at one of the workshop tables, studying its contents.

Lettie turned and followed Christian, questioning him while they walked farther into the makeshift room.

“When were you going to tell me you found a girlfriend?”

“What? That’s—she’s not my girlfriend,” he said flatly. “She’s a mechanic, and a damn good one at that.” He muttered something additional, but it was so low Lettie couldn’t hear him.

“What?”

“She’s kind of helping me get the fleet up and running.”

She stopped suddenly, but Christian continued walking, as if everything were peachy keen.

“You told her about the ships?” Lettie whispered vehemently.

Reaching the workbench table, Christian pulled out a pile of papers, going through them, avoiding all eye contact with her.

“Vessels. And of course not; she doesn’t know they’re here. She just thinks I have an interest in learning about them, that’s it.”

“I hope you make sure it stays that way. She’s a thief, Christian.”

“Just because she’s no doctor doesn’t make her any less trustworthy.”

“Wha—that’s not what I meant.”

“I got it handled.”

He loudly laid out a few of the papers onto the table, signaling the end of the chastising. Lettie complied, dropping the matter, a pang of guilt landing.

Leaning over the table, she studied the crumpled white papers, looking at what appeared to be some sort of list.

“What am I looking at?”

“This is a ledger from a trading post in Ogden. One of my runners intercepted it yesterday from the postmaster.”

“Okay?”

“Look at the entries from three days ago.” Christian tapped at a section of the page.

“Acetone peroxide, electrical plugs, primer wiring, alignment rods.” Lettie stopped short, not reading through all the items. “I’d be lying if I said I knew what any of this means.”

Sighing, he took the paper from her and read through the rest of the list.

“I didn’t think anything of it at first. I mean, separate, all of these items are your run-of-the-mill supplies, but together? It’s a homemade incendiary explosive, Lettie.”

She turned to face him head-on, making sure she’d heard him correctly.

“A bomb?”

“Yeah. All these parts were ordered by a single buyer, landed in Ogden a few days ago, and were transported to Silver Summit yesterday.”

“You think the shipment’s on its way here?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he replied exasperatedly, pushing his hair back from his forehead only to have the curls fall back. “It’s the only place that makes sense. We’re the only colony within walking distance of both of those towns.”

“Has anyone else seen this?”

“Just you and I.”

“Why didn’t you bring this up at the meeting this morning?” The question came out more accusatory than Lettie’d intended. “It’s just, you made no mention of it.”

“What was I supposed to say? Hey, everyone, I think someone’s building a bomb to blow up the city, but I’m also not entirely sure?”

Lettie nodded, seeing his point. As the youngest member of Command, making a false claim about something like this would not be taken well by the rest of the council.

Reading her thoughts, Christian continued. “The only proof I have right now is the ledger and transport list. There’s no concrete evidence regarding where it’s going, just my own guess.”

The disappointment at the uncertainty was plain on his face.

“What about tracking the package once it gets here?”

Christian perked up slightly, having anticipated the question but still grateful to have another like-minded individual to brainstorm with out loud.

“Normally, nothing gets into this city without me knowing about it.” He cocked his head behind them. “But with our recent visitors, who knows what’s being brought into the city and how.”

The claim remained unsaid, but even as a thought, it rang grave.

“So, you think it’s someone outside OS?”

Christian’s gaze darted around the room as he grasped for an answer, hesitating.

“Christian.”

“I can’t be sure with the information I have now, but that would be my guess.”

“And we have no information on the buyer? Not even a description?”

He shook his head, and Lettie let out a sigh, trying to clear her mind.

Nodding to herself, she answered the question being beamed at her through her brother’s eyes.

“We’ll keep monitoring it. This takes priority over all your other projects, okay?

Again, a nod.

“Your team’ll need to double down on efforts to search everything coming into our borders. If, and when, you locate the package, we’ll have a small gap to intercept the package and hopefully, with it, the buyer. I’ll fill Nico and Tristan in to see if there’s any chatter in and out of the city.”

A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Remy hadn’t moved, still peering over the computer console. Lettie was a bit startled though when her eyes moved to find Collins and met the woman’s gaze head-on. The red staining across her cheeks had lessened, and she’d removed the wet beanie from her head, leaving her usually well-kept crown slightly ruffled.

“We need to keep this quiet to avoid causing a panic, especially with RCF here. Unless absolutely necessary, no one else sees this,” Lettie ordered, pointing back to the papers sprawled on the table.

Both of Collins’s elbows rested on the table, and the loose strands of her braid fell forward as a result, silhouetting her face blissfully.

Sharing a final glance, Christian confirmed he understood her meaning.

Lettie expected him to push back against the insinuation of distrust, but he didn’t, instead retorting, “Make sure you take your own advice.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Together they returned to the middle of the room.

Collins stood up straight as Lettie approached, no longer slumped over the table.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine.” Lettie kept her voice even, delivering the lie effortlessly to the Cypherian captain. “Ready to head out?”

“You mean back into the arctic tundra out there? Absolutely.”

Quickly, they secured their coats and still soaking gloves, hats, and hoods in place, ready to endure the elements once more.

They walked in tandem over to Christian and Remy. The woman’s arm was haphazardly sprawled around Christian’s waist, their bodies noticeably close to each other. Lettie cleared her throat to get their attention, and Christian backed away quickly while Remy made a point of taking her time unraveling herself from him.

“Well, Remy, it was nice meeting you. My bad about earlier. Hopefully the next time we bump into each other, it’s a bit less…hectic.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve been caught in worse situations.” Remy winked at Lettie, chuckling.

She moved toward the bedroom to grab her own jacket and gear. Not nearly as well-kept or high-end as Collins’s, Lettie could make out several visible rips in the embroidered RCF jacket. Except for a knife sheathed at her hip, the mechanic was otherwise unarmed. Like Collins, though, her current attire provided almost no defense against the current weather conditions.

“Heading out too?” Lettie inquired. “It’s cold as hell.”

“It’s a short walk, I’ll live. A group of us are being housed in the basement of some school near here. Mechanics, engineers, electricians, carpenters, architects, the whole gang; we’re supposed to be working around the clock to help spruce up your little colony here.” The statement wasn’t sarcastic or condescending, simply a matter of fact.

“Well, it might not seem like everyone is so grateful, but we do appreciate the help, so thank you.”

“Actually, you can show your appreciation by doing me a little favor,” Remy replied, throwing up her hand, her slim index finger poking through a black glove with the fingers cut off. “It’s past our curfew, and if the King or any of his henchmen find out I was here, there will be hell to pay. Let’s keep this little party on the DL, yeah?”

Lettie nodded. “Absolutely.”

In unison, they all turned to Collins, who let the faintest “sure” slip from her lips. Remy gave a dramatic sigh and shrugged, accepting the answer.

Goodbyes said, Collins and Lettie left the theater the way they’d come. Though time seemed to travel backward and the duo with it, they finally made it to the mall and parted ways, Lettie watching her as she trekked through the lobby area, leaving wet boot marks behind her. After Lettie was sure enough time had passed that Collins had made it to her room, she made the trip back toward her own building. The muscles in her legs had begun to go numb when Lettie finally shuffled through the front door. Stripping off the drenched wet garments, she pulled multiple blankets over herself, ensured there was space at her front for Max, and the two fell rapidly into a deep slumber.

Chapter
8

Over the next week, sleep was impossible to come by. Between scheduled watches, duties with the recon unit, increased intelligence surveillance, and last-minute Command treaty meetings, Lettie barely had a moment to breathe. The increased hecticness didn’t stop Lettie from thinking about Collins, and it certainly didn’t ease her mind’s wanderings around not having seen the other woman in days. At every rushed meal, Lettie looked around the mess hall hoping Collins was there, but found herself disappointed in both the outcome and her insistent, desperate desire to catch a glimpse of her.

Lettie’s anxiety only climbed in the days leading up to the treaty banquet, and as the event neared her nerves were at an all-time high.

“What the hell is you doin’?”

Nico’s smirk reflected at her through the dirty mirror. They stood in Lettie’s bedroom, surrounded by a pile of discarded shirts and pants that hadn’t made the cut. Spinning, Lettie gave him a once-over and couldn’t help but notice how good the maroon suit looked on him. The black dress shirt barely contained his biceps, and the deep color complemented his dark skin well. The whole look was topped off by matching suspenders and pressed pinstripe pants.

“It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

Helplessly, Lettie motioned to her own attire.

Not letting his friend suffer further, Nico walked over, careful to avoid the heap of clothes and took up the two ends of the bowtie from her fumbling hands.

“It’s like ridin’ a bike.”

“It is most certainly not like riding a bike,” Lettie responded, flatly.

Proving his point, Nico expertly assembled the black tie and stood back to admire his work confidently.

Spinning back toward the mirror, Lettie inspected the completed look. It’d been years since either of them had anything to dress up for, but the light gray suit she’d chosen to wear was the least wrinkled item she could find in the bare closet, hidden away in its protective plastic. The baby blue shirt was buttoned up to her neck and tucked nicely into slim capri tuxedo pants. The matching gray vest felt good buttoned over her torso; the shiny material of the black lapel gleamed in the mirror. Grabbing the suit jacket off her bed, Lettie slipped her arms through and savored the snug fit. She’d smoothed a thick concoction of moisturizer into her hair, and short loose curls bounced on top of her head, the sides freshly trimmed down, resulting in a curated high fade. It took some digging, but Lettie was eventually able to find some old bits of eyeliner and mascara to top everything off, going above and beyond her usual lone application of ChapStick.

Desiring a second opinion, she turned back around toward Nico.

“How do I look?”

Her companion paused for a minute, seemingly trying to find his next words and, predictably, landed on sarcasm.

“Lemme just say, you best be careful tonight. Showin’ up at my side, you gone put a lotta women to shame tonight. And it ain’t right of me to be the cause of a cat fight. Though it sho’ wouldn’t be the first time.”

Lettie didn’t answer, instead playfully shoving past him and making her way into the kitchen. Looking at the canisters of alcohol, an empty glass revealed that Nico had already helped himself. Following his lead, Lettie filled a glass with vodka and quickly downed the shot.

Trailing her into the kitchen, he continued, “I’m just playin’. Real talk though? I didn’t think you’d give a shit ’bout some uppity dinner.” He cocked a thick eyebrow at her. “Who you tryna impress?”

“It was just a question, Christ.”

Lettie rolled her eyes, and he erupted in laughter.

She poured them another drink and they threw them back, slamming the glasses onto the little stand.

Nico launched himself onto the couch and played with Max, scratching her belly.

“I mean, come on now, you don’t think it’s mad outta pocket that we gots to be dressin’ up all uppity for this? I mean, yeah, I look damn fine doin’ it, but this is all’s just some show for Koenig and his yes men. All to try and prove we good enough for his little deal.”

“Yeah, well I’m sure he thinks we can’t even seem to get that right.” The tone in her voice caused Nico to sit up straight on the couch.

“What you gettin’ at?”

Lettie explained the information that had been disclosed to her earlier in the morning’s Command meeting. Flashbacks to her mother’s instructions to the council that the information be kept confidential reared, but Lettie knew Nico wouldn’t run his mouth about the matter to anyone else. The humor at the irony that they were on their way to attend an event celebrating the completion of a treaty that hadn’t been finalized was too great not to share.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Yep. We have Koenig to thank for the delay. The guy’s a real uptight asshole and keeps requesting last-minute edits.”

Lettie blew out the candles around the room and then moved toward the door, tugging her scuffed boots on and signaling her readiness to leave.

“Well, fuck ’em.” Her best friend dramatically maneuvered his way into his suit jacket and Lettie laughed at his cool collar pop. “If this ‘almost’ treaty means we get to chow down on good food and sip the good shit tonight, I ain’t gonna complain. What I’m not finna do is ‘yes, masta’ nobody tonight.”

“I’ll cheers to that.”

***

The snow continued to fall heavily outside, but Lettie had no complaints tonight. Upon arrival at the mess hall, she found the place almost unrecognizable. Massive makeshift fire braziers had been lit along the entrance of the building, and people mulled around the area, keeping warm near the closest flame. Nico and Lettie managed to find Tristan and the rest of their unit as a loud foghorn signaled the start of dinner and everyone paraded into the building, grateful to escape the cold.

For a moment, Lettie thought she spotted Isaac, but a mass of people passed between them, and when her line of sight returned, her newfound friend was nowhere to be seen. The disappearing act was soon forgotten as she was distracted by a roar of laughter within her own group at a joking jab she’d missed.

Everyone seemed to be in decent spirits including the members of RCF, creating a mass of buzz in the air; an effect Lettie was sure was heightened by the abundance of alcohol made available. As they entered the building and patiently waited for those in front to get seated, Lettie spotted a gleam of silver in her peripheral vision and turned toward the glimmer. Lettie recognized Collins’s side profile instantly and didn’t bother to excuse herself from the rest of the group, trailing after her. As Lettie fought through the crowd to get closer to her objective, an unknown force caused Collins to turn around abruptly. Now only a few feet away, the full force of Collins’s appearance suddenly affronted Lettie.

Strictly abiding by the formal theme of the night, Collins’s dress hung just above the snowy ground, silver heels peeking out underneath. Upon closer examination, the color Lettie had mistaken as silver was actually a black material covered with a multitude of silver sparkle-like orbs, the falling flakes adding to the overall exquisiteness. Lettie followed the pattern of the dress down to the slit in the middle, which was positioned low enough to show off a sliver of Collins’s thigh when she walked. Eyes finally finding her own, Lettie increased her pace. She was almost close enough to reach out and touch Collins, the captain’s smile encouraging, when a crowd of people swept between them, blissfully unaware of Lettie’s presence. Just as quickly, Lettie spotted Commander Koenig offer his arm to Collins and she obliged, no longer acknowledging Lettie’s presence. The entourage disappeared into the crowd, despite her attempts to follow their route.

“There you are.”

There was little time for Lettie to dwell on the sense of loss that seeped into her chest as a hand clamped onto her shoulder.

Luthor wore a salt-and-pepper tweed jacket, complete with brown elbow patches, and a pair of dark brown chino pants. His face was inches from her own, revealing he’d shaven for the occasion. Although no amount of shaves or showers could dampen the menthol scent he emitted.

“Everything okay?”

“Hey. Yeah, I’m fine. Just taking it all in.”

Ignoring her clipped words, Luthor pointedly looked around the room. “LuAnn really outdid herself.”

Mismatched white cloths covered the usually bare tables, and every few feet, handcrafted flower arrangements had been delicately placed at each table’s center. A steaming plate of food sat in front of each chair, accompanied by full glasses of wine, carafes of various other liquids, and pans holding second helpings. Though the mess hall was fully powered, the glaring overhead lights had been replaced with various candles and lanterns, providing the building’s only ambient lighting.

Arm still around her shoulder, Luthor led her toward the front of the hall.

“We should find our seats. Your mom’s ordered that all members of Command are to sit at the head table.”

Lettie looked toward where his stare was pointed and noticed, for the first time, an especially done-up table assembled on the little stage at the front of the room.

“Seriously?” she groaned.

Her thoughts moved to Nico and the rest of her unit, knowing they would have made themselves comfortable at one of the tables near the back, probably cracking jokes and creating an uproar.

Luthor chuckled at her reaction. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Unconvinced but trusting her acting uncle, Lettie followed Luthor toward the stage and climbed up the stairs. A dozen chairs were lined up along the length of the table, and Lettie was not surprised to find that OS members sat on one side and RCF on the other. She moved to take the seat closest to the end to allow for a speedy exit when someone called her name. Lettie spotted Christian waving his hands wildly and walked toward him, mostly in the hopes of making him stop.

“Mom wants you to sit here.” He motioned to a chair next to him, significantly closer to the middle of the table.

Lettie fixed her mouth to decline when Commander Koenig appeared on the other side of the table, Collins still on his arm. Lettie’s eyes didn’t leave the pair as he sat in the middle chair first, a tall man she’d not met before positioned beside him, and then Collins followed, sitting directly in front of the empty chair Lettie’d been assigned.

“Ms. Valentine, please join us.”

Even through the exaggerated formality, sugared politeness Lettie had not heard since the captain’s arrival in Salt Lake, Lettie also heard notes of the melodious cadence she’d grown used to and couldn’t help but smile at the surreptitious tone.

“Absolutely. I’d be honored, Captain Collins.”

Trying to hide her escalating giddiness, Lettie took the seat next to Christian.

“You remember my brother, Christian, yes?” Lettie continued, keeping in character.

“Indeed, I do. It is nice to see you again, Christian.” Collins nodded politely from her seat.

“Likewise.”

It was Collins’s turn in the game, and she did not waver. Lettie studied her every movement as she gently touched the Commander’s arm, getting his attention.

“Commander, this is Leticia and Christian Valentine.”

“Ahh yes, I’m glad you two could join us tonight. Especially you, Lettie; you’ve been noticeably absent from our daily negotiations.” He turned to look at Collins, and the expression that passed over his face was indecipherable. “But then again, I hear that you’ve been busy teaching my captain here a few things about field expertise.”

Addressing him, Lettie was extra careful not to look too long at him or Collins. “Yes. She’s a quick learner.”

“That she is.”

As they moved to get settled, Koenig shook his head rapidly, the sudden gesture weird coming from such a measured person.

“Where are my manners? Maybe you’ve met, maybe you haven’t. Lettie, Christian, this is my second-in-command, General Lydecker.”

The man in question held the same air of perpetual uptightness that Koenig did. Unlike the Commander, this man was the tallest person she’d ever seen, taller even than her own six-foot brother. Where Christian was lanky, it was evident that Lydecker did not skip out on any opportunity to pick up and throw heavy things in a repeated manner. Where Koenig’s hair was full but neatly kept, Lydecker’s had been buzzed haphazardly, though his hair was the only thing on him that signified any kind of unkemptness, his wardrobe as crisp as those that flanked him. The entire ensemble alluded to an eager, well-groomed guard dog, but a predator all the same. The man seemed ambiguously familiar, but Lettie was unable to place her finger on why.

“I don’t think I could forget you, Ms. Valentine. I recall that day at the train station very vividly.”

Recollection hit her instantly. Lydecker was the officer standing next to Collins that first day at the rail yard, though Lettie hadn’t registered him at the time, her eyes focused too intensely on his counterpart.

The next ten minutes passed in a haze of small talk. Noticing that Koenig and Lydecker were particularly engrossed in a conversation about the moon and its effect on snowfall, Lettie let her eyes linger on Collins. From across the table, the extra effort she’d made with her makeup was obvious, the smoky eye made even more dramatic and her eyeliner wing seemingly painted by a meticulous artist. Half her hair was tied up, the rest flowing over her shoulders, drawing attention to her neck, where, as if it belonged there, a beautiful oval emerald hung, held by a simple silver chain. Lettie found herself wondering about the identity of the gifter, when Collins’s hand moved to pick up her wine glass, shaking Lettie from her internal inquiry.

Lettie looked up to find Collins’s eyes locked on her, caught in the act of staring. The captain didn’t address the indecency verbally, instead taking a long sip of her wine, eyes never leaving the other’s. Lettie foolishly hoped no one else could hear the rapid beating of her heart, as Collins sat the drink back down, leaving behind a dark lip stain on the glass. Seemingly satisfied with Lettie’s reaction, Collins returned to speaking with the person on her other side.

Luckily, Lettie was quickly distracted from overanalyzing the look by several sets of eyes suddenly directed at the back of the long room. Lettie followed the gazes only to realize that her mother had finally arrived. Regina wore a dark purple peplum dress accompanied by a matching shawl draped over her shoulders and was flanked by Junior, in an impressive tailored suit. Everyone on the stage stood at her approach as Regina took her time making her way to her seat, shaking several hands and delivering greetings along the way. Finally, satisfied by the entrance, Junior took the seat to Lettie’s left, and they both watched as their mother embraced Koenig over the table. After several more greetings, Regina motioned for everyone to sit, and seconds later, she alone remained standing, a hush falling over the entire hall. She paused for several moments, letting the silence loom for effect. When she finally did speak, as always, her voice carried the length of the room.

“I’ll make this quick, as I know you are all looking forward to the magnificent dinner that LuAnn and Luce have worked so hard to prepare for us.”

She paused, leading a quick applause for the couple and allowing for some tampered cheers.

“Before we begin our feast, we must first also give thanks to the person who was also very much integral in not only tonight’s meal, but the sealing of peace between our colony and the Renewed Citizens’ Front. Commander Koenig, please stand with me.”

The RCF leader did as instructed and gave a few polite waves. Maybe Lettie was biased, her imagination overly active, but she swore his applause garnered nowhere near the level of that previously displayed for LuAnn, Luce, and the night’s meal. After a few moments, Koenig clasped his hands together, thanking Regina, and took his seat once again.

“So tonight, while you enjoy this meal and the festivities to follow, do so with the knowledge that we are experiencing a monumental moment in Colony history, and celebrate the eve of peace between our two factions.”

The room erupted in applause, and in that moment, Lettie, in addition to everyone else in the room, was swept up in her mother’s stirring words, allowing herself to be fully engulfed in the festivities.

Sliding her napkin into her lap, Lettie ogled over the loaded plate of food. On every plate had lovingly been placed a chunk of pot roast, loaded mash potatoes, crunchy green beans, and homemade cornbread complete with chunks of corn. The luxury of the meal caught her off guard, but it was the smells that led her to feel a slight intoxicated high. As they ate, Lettie spotted the tables closest to them going for seconds and even thirds and couldn’t blame them for their gluttony; if she weren’t sitting with Koenig and his people, she’d have done the same. Instead, Lettie made sure to ingest slow, measured bites, taking her time consuming the meal.

“Ms. Valentine.”

Even though Lettie stared down at her plate, she knew from the ice-cold formal address that it was Koenig who beckoned her.

“Hm?”

He had his hands folded on top of the table, his plate entirely untouched, his half-empty wine glass the only signifier that he’d partaken in the meal at all. Lettie tried not to let it show, but the feel of his icy blue eyes lingering on her made her shudder inadvertently.

“Your mother tells me that you are an expert marksman, yes?”

Confused by the line of questioning, she kept her answer short. “I know my way around a gun.”

“In that case, I am curious. When did you shoot your first gun?”

“I think it was when I was eleven.”

“And the first time you killed a man?”

From the audible lull in conversation around their table, Lettie knew she was not alone in her off-putting reception. “Excuse me?”

“The first time you killed a man, how old were you?”

“Seventeen.” Lettie responded quickly, not having to search for the answer very long.

“Interesting.” Koenig looked genuinely pleased with her answer, unfazed by the stares from others who also deemed the topic inappropriate for the dinner table. “Do you think both of those happenings made you a better soldier in the long run? I ask because I started my own children early and wanted to know what your personal opinion was.”

Lettie was completely speechless. “I—I don’t know.”

“So, is it true that the Colonies don’t really celebrate many traditional holidays any longer?” Collins pitched the question to no one in particular, her light words cutting the tension.

Regina took initiative on responding, politely waiting until her mouth was empty to speak. “I can’t speak for the other Colonies, but that is correct, Captain Collins. Here in Salt Lake, we don’t celebrate traditional holidays like was custom pre-Impact.”

“I hope it is not intruding for me to question why that is.”

“No intrusion at all,” Lettie’s mother replied, smiling. “Really it comes down to when our colony was first founded. At that time, we simply didn’t have the excess resources to warrant celebrating such occasions. Eventually the various holidays were forgotten altogether, and it became tradition to abstain from the celebration of them. But life isn’t all drear down here. We throw one hell of a Founder’s Day celebration and find ways to celebrate small wins here and there.”

“Have you ever read anything by Bertrand Russell?” This time it was Lydecker who spoke up boldly.

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Several of his writings are about his ideas on what concepts and establishments separate humans from animals. One such distinction is the establishment of traditions and celebration of holidays. Russell wrote that the doing away of such customs signifies a breakdown in society and is one of the first steps of descendance into chaos and collapse.”

Though the movement was small, Lettie caught her mother straighten up in her chair, her annoyance at the general’s insinuation and tone reserved in the slight shift.

“This Russell sounds like a very intelligent man, but he clearly never lived through a global cataclysmic event. Salt Lake and its surrounding area possess one of the quickest growing populations of any colony on Earth. Our children are educated, our clinic provides life-saving care, and none of our people go hungry. If the prosperity of our colony means we are forced to skip exchanging gifts in praise of an overweight bearded man and flying reindeer or that our children do not get to seek plastic eggs and sit on the lap of a life-size rabbit, then that is a sacrifice we are willing to make.”

Several people around the table laughed at the candid explanation and Lydecker cleared his throat heavily, flustered by the chuckles.

“But that wasn’t always the case, though, right?” he retorted, the presumptuousness in his voice thick.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand your question.”

“Russell also attributes societal chaos to disruptive and rapid leadership change. I think your late husband can attest to this, no?”

Everyone in direct vicinity of the discussion came to an audible screeching halt. Side conversations and eating paused mid-sentence and mid-bite. Lettie was out of her seat as soon as the words left Lydecker’s lips, just in time to witness Junior crush his wine glass in his hand. The red liquid spread over the table, making it difficult to discern where the fermented spirit started and where his dripping blood ended. Collins was up instantly and attempted to assist him, passing him several napkins to cover the wound. Junior accepted the offering but didn’t let her examine his hand further.

“How dare you,” Lettie asserted, hands flat on the table, looming over Lydecker.

He wore a snarky smirk, content with garnering his desired response.

“Leticia. Sit. Down.” Her mother’s words were delivered swiftly. Seemingly unfazed by both the verbal jab and following fallout, Regina remained seated.

Lettie glared at her, trying to discern if the strongest woman she knew was really going to sit there and let such a pathetic man talk about her father. Regina held Lettie’s eyes, not backing down.

“Screw this.”

Lettie didn’t bother with a second glance at anyone at the table as she turned her back, leaving the table, and descended from the stage area.

Those seated closest to the stage froze, watchful, clearly having witnessed the debacle while the other guests in the room continued with their respective conversations, nonplussed. Anger blurring her vision, she sought relief in the bathroom, which was thankfully empty when she busted through the swinging door. The force with which she gripped the metallic sink did little to alleviate the thrumming behind her closed eyelids, leaving her palms feeling numb.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

After several minutes of this, the pulsing behind Lettie’s eyes finally began to subside, and her heart resumed a normal pace. Her knuckles cracked as she flexed her fingers and, head raised, returned to the mess hall. Prideful, Lettie had half a mind to march back up onto the dais and explain exactly where Lydecker could stuff his readings but then realized he wasn’t worth the blood that would spill from her knuckles pummeling him. And there was the damn treaty.

It wasn’t difficult to spot the rowdy table housing her unit, and Lettie made herself comfortable, helping herself to seconds from the picked-over platters of food. Several eyes lingered on her longer than usual, curious at their unit leader’s sudden appearance, but no one brought it up and Lettie was grateful for the peace. Unlike on the raised stage, Lettie found herself surrounded by friends, and though she couldn’t forget the recent events, she was swaddled in an atmosphere of comfortability and familiarity. Lettie flourished in it, letting the drinks flow and the jokes and laughter grow as the night went on, joy slowly easing into the space within her where something darker also resided.

A couple hours later, people began to depart, and the realization of how much she’d had to drink hit her as Lettie stood up, the room spinning. She tried to steady herself unsuccessfully, attempting to stop the spinning in her head.

“Aye there,” Nico laughed, motioning his arms out dramatically, playing at catching her. “You aight, lightweight?”

“I’m fine.”

Nonetheless, he held out Lettie’s jacket, and she slipped her hands into the sleeves.

“We finna head to the Depot for a lil’ after-party kickback. You down?”

Without thinking, Lettie looked past Nico’s arm and scanned the table atop the stage. There were a few lingerers, but most of the occupants, including her mother, brothers, Koenig, and Collins, had disappeared, turning in for the night.

“Lead the way.”

***

Though an intoxicated stupor helped shield her from the worst of the harsh cold, Lettie was very appreciative when they finally reached the interior of the Depot. The party was in full swing and seemed to be more lively than usual, no one reserved about using the controversial occasion as a reason to celebrate. Groups and couples danced to the live music throughout the long, narrow building, and when Lettie spotted two women making out in a corner of the large music hall, a pang thudded in her chest, traveling downward.

Nico had already slipped into the crowd, having garnered the attention of some poor companion, so Lettie left the rest of the group behind and made her way to the bar. She threw back a shot and then ordered one to go, setting several silver coins onto the bar. Striding toward where the rest of the unit had set up shop, she spotted Christian in the crowd and clamped her hands on his shoulders, spinning her brother around.

“Yo, you made quite the scene back there, ya know? I thought Mom was going to lose it when you walked away.”

“That fascist asshole had it coming.”

Lettie could feel the reconjuring of the subject souring her mood and quickly changed the subject. “What are you doing here anyway? I haven’t seen you out in weeks.”

“I got a good feeling about tonight.” A goofy smile was plastered across Christian’s face, so much so that Lettie could almost make out his full set of perfect teeth.

The fight to prevent herself from unloading on him reared, her negative mood eager to rain on whatever sunnier disposition he’d conjured up. But she held back.

“You’re being weird. Why are you being weird?”

Dramatically, Christian shrugged his shoulder and Lettie didn’t push the matter further, her brother trailing her back to sit with the rest of her unit. The next few songs that were boisterously performed by the band passed in a blur, trumped by various drinking games, rambunctious story retellings, and limitless laughter. A wave of nostalgia passed over her, and Lettie tried to remember the last time they’d had the chance to celebrate like this and realized her mother was right: since the Impact, the opportunities had been slim to none. Lettie was lost in her head for the umpteenth time that night, when the nearby roar of voices and laughter quieted slightly and Christian tapped her shoulder, motioning behind them. Lettie turned and spotted a throng of people making their way toward their position, the crowd parting to allow them through, eyes staring inquisitively.

The group was composed entirely of Front members, some she recognized from the table at dinner, still donning their formal apparel, and others, assumingly unable to attend the dinner or lacking finer threads entirely, wore basic clothing; despite the mismatch of apparel, all of them had opted out of wearing their usual RCF uniforms. At the head of the group was Collins, still sporting her formal dress, which shone like a beacon in the lowly lit room.

The captain wore a snarky smile, which Lettie assumed was in response to the look of pure shock on her own face, having been successfully caught off guard.

“I hope we aren’t crashing the party.”

A few beats passed as Lettie was still too shocked and frankly, drunk, to respond.

“Of course not, the more the merrier.”

Christian moved toward Collins, surprising both women when Collins stuck out her hand, and he went in for a full-on hug instead.

“It’s good to see you again, Michelle. I meant to tell you before, but the lack of firearms looks good on you.”

Christian began making introductions between the two groups, each surprisingly warming up to the other rather quickly, an occurrence aided by the flow of libations. After a few moments of greetings and introductions, Lettie watched Remy quickly but covertly hustle toward Christian, and he grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd, the two disappearing together. After a quick hello to Collins, Nico took over where Christian left off and expertly escorted several of the RCF crew, mostly a group of women, to the bar. Lettie hadn’t taken her eyes off Collins since she walked in and, finally, after saying hello to several people in Lettie’s unit, she made her way over to where Lettie sat in a shoddy metal folding chair.

“Hi,” Lettie muttered, standing up so that they were level, face-to-face. Instantly, she hit herself mentally. After a week of not seeing each other, she’d intended to muster a greeting with more intention.

“Hey, you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard there was a party.”

Lettie waited for Collins to elaborate, but she didn’t. The slight slur in Collins’s words and the rosy flush on her cheeks told Lettie she wasn’t the only one of them who’d taken advantage of the heavy pours that night.

“Want to sit?” Lettie questioned, offering her now empty chair.

“No,” Collins responded rapidly and, in the process, took the glass of warm gin out of Lettie’s hand and downed it in one gulp.

Lettie burst out laughing at the usually reserved woman’s attempt to act unfazed by the evident burn of the liquid.

“I want to dance.”

Before Lettie could object or agree, Collins grabbed her hand and pulled her through the sea of bodies. Shortly after she’d found a spot and deemed it appropriate, the band transitioned into a slower song, the melody and beat slowing down enough that they had no choice but to rock back and forth in rhythm. Knowingly, Collins threw her arms around Lettie’s neck and Lettie wrapped her own tattooed limbs around the shorter woman’s waist, both of them pulling each other in close. Collins was close enough that Lettie could smell a hint of perfume, but resisted breathing in too deeply, afraid she would be caught in the act.

“Are you okay?”

Lettie scrunched her eyebrows in confusion at the sudden inquisition, not sure if she meant being on the dance floor or in general.

“Dinner earlier,” Collins clarified.

“Oh yeah.” She bit her lip, the air seeming to grow hot around them. “I’m sorry about that. I had to get out of there.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry for what Lydecker said about your dad. He had no right bringing him up.”

Even in her buzzed state, for a moment, Collins’s eyes held hers intently, and Lettie had to break the gaze first.

“It’s okay, I’m okay now.”

There was a quick riff in the song, and Lettie backed away, spinning Collins effortlessly, then pulling her body back into her own. The dramatic motion garnered a few swoony giggles from Collins, and Lettie hung onto every sound.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“I am curious though. How’d you convince the others to come with you?”

“Not everyone who’s a part of the Front is evil, ya know? It might surprise you that all of us are just trying to survive, put one foot in front of the other, just like you all. Life’s about survival, Lettie.”

Before Lettie could respond, she was pulled closer, Collins resting her head against Lettie’s shoulder. They swayed like that for what felt like hours. Lettie’s mind lingered on the feel of the curve of the other woman’s waist underneath her hands, every point of contact between their two bodies seemingly on fire. Surprisingly, the flames didn’t make her want to shield herself for protection, but burrow in further, comforted in their warmth. So she did just that, pulling Collins in tighter. Breathing in deeply, Lettie smelled hints of vanilla and honey.

The next two hours were spent alternating between drinking games and dancing in the middle of the room.

It was during a particularly lulling melody, Collins’s face once again nestled in the crook of her neck, that Lettie stole a glance at her dance partner. The captain’s eyes were closed, her thick eyelashes covering her lids.

“Past your bedtime already?”

The sides of Collins’s mouth lifted into a smile, her eyes remaining closed. “Sleep is for the weak.”

“Well, then in that case, want to get out of here?” Lettie blurted the words before she could stop herself.

That finally caused Collins to open her eyes, and Lettie could almost see the gears shifting in her head, dissecting the question, though her response was simple.

“Lead the way.”

They made quick work of delivering their goodbyes and Lettie shook her head, ignoring a wink from Nico as they both located their coats and departed the still bustling building. Lettie glanced down at her watch and realized it was almost two in the morning. Luckily, they weren’t forced to endure the elements for long, arriving at her building within fifteen minutes.

As the couple entered the nearly vacant building, Collins whistled, taking in the lobby area.

“I bet this place was pretty swanky back in the day.”

Lettie couldn’t help but laugh at her outdated wording. “That’s one word for it, old lady. It ain’t the Ritz, but it’s home.”

Giddily, they passed stories back and forth, each pitching their own reimaginings of how the place used to look and what type of people resided there, when the elevator finally dinged, signaling their arrival at the top floor. As they walked down the corridor, Lettie was suddenly self-conscious, the feeling of Collins’s stare heavy on the back of her head. She tried not to let it get to her, shuffling for her keys and unlocking the door. It was pitch black inside the apartment and Lettie quickly maneuvered the darkness, lighting candles and lanterns.

Eventually reaching the bedroom, Lettie realized that Max had somehow locked herself in the room, and once she opened the door, setting her free, the dog darted past her. A small yelp in the living room sounded, and she moved to intercept the shepherd.

“Max!” she exclaimed, rounding the corner that led to the living room.

Max had jumped onto Collins, her two giant front paws dangerously close to ruining whatever delicate material the dress was made from. Lettie moved to pull Max off her, when Collins suddenly plopped onto the bare floor, cuddling Max’s big head with both hands.

“You didn’t tell me you had a dog!”

Distracted by the amusing display, Lettie studied the pair of them sprawled out on the floor and didn’t respond.

“What’s this cute fella’s name?”

“Her name’s Max.”

Collins repeated the namesake a few times, and the Aussie grew more and more excited every time she did, eventually resorting to covering Collins’s face with wet kisses.

“I think she likes you. I’ve never seen her warm up to someone so fast.”

“I used to have a dog before the Impact, a pug actually. Luna. They say dogs are really good judges of character.”

For a few minutes, Collins played with Max, and the indulgence between the two amused Lettie. It wasn’t until Collins caught her staring that Lettie was reminded that it was the first time the stunning woman had stepped foot into her home. Lettie promptly left her position leaning against the wall and walked around the island into the kitchen.

“Drink?”

“I’m okay. I think I’ve had enough for tonight.”

She made a good point, and Lettie left the bottle of rum where it stood, capped.

“But I could totally go for some food. I was so jittery during dinner, I forgot to eat anything.”

Lettie rummaged through the cabinets and pulled out everything she had in the way of food.

“Unfortunately, all the gourmet stuff is at the mess hall. I’ve got pretzels”—she shook the package in one hand—“and MREs.”

“Pretzels all the way,” Collins responded, without hesitation.

Lettie tossed her the package teasingly, and she ripped it open, stuffing several of the pretzels in her mouth and tossing several to Max, who caught them without fail. Lettie moved to the couch and sat down, cozying up to the armrest, bringing her bare feet underneath her. After Collins had her fill of pretzels and playing with Max, she hopped onto her feet, swaying slightly, and moved to sit in the armchair across from her hostess. They sat in silence as she took in the living room and rest of the apartment, her eyes roaming over every item and with them, Lettie. Suddenly, Collins’s eyebrows scrunched together, and Lettie worried the woman had seen something she disapproved of.

“What is it?”

Her face fell blank again. “Nothing. It’s just not what I was expecting.”

Lettie couldn’t stop her curiosity from blooming. “How so?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s just, you’re, like, the most alive person I know, and it’s so empty in here.”

Lettie wasn’t sure whether to take her statement as a compliment or insult, and Collins noticed the indecision on her face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

No,” she said, shaking her head, “it’s fine. Guess I never thought about it that way. I mean except to sleep and hang out with Max, I’m almost never here, so I guess I never saw a reason to put any work into the place.”

“Well, Drunk Michelle thinks that interior design should be high on the post-Impact list of important things to master.”

“What else is on Drunk Michelle’s wish list,” Lettie inquired, amused.

Collins’s possession of an actual list was clear by the way she moved to settle in for the long haul, folding her legs underneath her in the armchair, the long ball gown making it difficult. Lettie snapped her fingers at Max, and she jumped up on the couch next to her, inserting her big body in between Lettie’s legs and the couch.

“It’s a fairly long list, but a pile of dogs, a never-ending plate of creamy shrimp alfredo, clothes that never get dirty, and world peace are definitely at the top of the list,” Collins responded, ticking off the list on her fingers.

“Sounds magical, if I do say so myself.”

Her yawn was contagious, and Lettie let out one of her own.

“I think it might be time to call it a night.”

“I think so.”

On cue, they both looked outside the windows, the view almost completely shrouded in snowfall and darkness.

“You should stay over,” Lettie said, definitively. “I don’t think the snowfall is going to slow anytime soon, and it’s probably not a good idea for either of us to go trekking outside right now.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude on your space.”

“You’re not intruding. I’m asking you to stay. Plus, I think Max agrees.”

The women both looked down at the dog whose head lay on her front paws, and she lifted her head slightly at the sound of her name.

“Fine, you’ve both convinced me.” Collins stared down at her dress. “Have anything a bit comfier I can borrow?”

“Follow me.”

Entering before Collins, Lettie hurriedly picked up several shirts and socks strewn along the floor and threw them into the closet, setting the lantern on the recently cleaned nightstand. A brief shuffle through her drawers returned two pairs of boxer shorts and T-shirts, one set for each of them. Closing the door behind her, she gave Collins space to change, doing the same in the bathroom. When she returned, Collins sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, Max’s head limp in her lap. She’d tied her hair up into a haphazard bun, and even in the ratty pajamas, the glow of her skin and feel of her eyes on Lettie made her shiver. Ignoring the tremor’s true source, Lettie grabbed several extra blankets from the closet, draping them onto the bed. In the kitchen, she grabbed a canteen of water, extinguishing the lanterns and blowing out the candles on her way back.

Lettie handed Collins the canteen. “It’ll make you feel better in the morning.”

She thanked her, taking a huge gulp.

Lettie lay down on one side of the bed and Collins did the same, both stretching out; Max got the hint and jumped down from the bed, slinking into her own doggy cot on the floor.

They lay face-to-face, taking care not to touch each other. Lettie’s nose still registered wisps of vanilla wafting from her person and labored at keeping her breathing under control.

“So, did you have fun tonight?”

“I did. I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun. And that’s saying a lot considering how the night began.”

“You’re telling me,” Lettie responded, smiling.

“You should smile more, it suits you.”

The statement caught her off guard, but she recovered quickly. “You should take your own advice.”

“What? I’m literally always smiling.”

“That’s not true. The first time I saw you, you had the most serious scowl on your face. I thought it was permanently stuck like that.”

Collins moved to pinch her, and Lettie swatted her hand away.

“That’s not fair! I was bombarded by everything going on at the mall. I almost ran into you!”

“I’m not talking about the mall.”

Collins grew serious. “You mean at the train tracks?”

Lettie nodded.

“I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I don’t think I could forget.”

Lettie didn’t voice it, but she distinctively recalled the moment being the only time that day that she hadn’t felt the unwelcome creep of fear at the forefront of her mind, Collins’s presence exuding something greater.

Back in the present, Lettie became hyperaware of how close their faces were, her guard slipping; it was just her and Collins taking up space in the bed. Both women held their breath, waiting in silent anticipation. It was Collins who finally broke the silence, her voice coming out in a dry whisper.

“We should sleep.”

Lettie nodded in reluctant agreement, and Collins turned around to face the opposite direction. Unable to close her eyes, Lettie was both disappointed and relieved at the abrupt ending to the night. She wasn’t the only one who sleep evaded though.

Wordlessly, Collins shimmied her body back into that of her host’s after several minutes passed. Lettie was momentarily shocked at the closeness but welcomed it, bringing her top arm across the other woman’s body and holding her tight. Their legs intertwined with each other naturally, every part of Lettie’s body touching a part of Collins’s. Lettie was careful not to make any sudden movements, scared that doing so would interrupt the precarious moment, but her fears were assuaged when the soft snores of sleep flowed from Collins, and eventually she found herself following her lead.

***

The next morning, Lettie awoke alone. The sun had fully risen and illuminated the room in bright light. The spot next to her was empty, and Lettie lifted herself up, leaning back onto her elbows when she was met with a severe ping of pain at her temple. Part of her was hopeful as she made her way into the kitchen, but the feeling was dashed when there was no sign of anyone else in the apartment. The borrowed sleep clothes sat neatly folded on the kitchen counter, and Lettie was sure Collins had taken all the belongings she’d brought with her. Max watched her from the living room couch, her head laying on her paws, and then slunk over to join her.

“Morning, girl.”

Lettie scratched her behind the ear, sedating her briefly before the Aussie let out a small whine, looking between the front door and Lettie.

“I know. Doesn’t feel so good to be ghosted, huh?”

Lettie let herself mope for several minutes before remembering that it was Sunday, and that meant LuAnn would have whipped up something extra special for breakfast. Idling no longer, she changed into pants and a sweater, slipped her pistol holster onto her shoulder, grabbed a coat, and was out the door.

As she walked toward the mess hall, Lettie couldn’t stop herself from replaying last night, second-guessing every word said and action taken. Even when she finally joined Tristan and the others at the convention center to run drills, the previous night was never far from her mind. It took all day and several cycles of overthinking for her to realize that she wasn’t distracted by the fact that last night had happened, but rather disappointed in the things that she’d wanted to happen but didn’t.

It was locking eyes briefly with Tristan and then Nyla over the cafeteria table that validated Lettie’s feeling. Not only did she no longer experience the hitch of betrayal that had lingered around her interactions with the women for months now, but a nagging longing that had only quietly existed, poking at the fringes of Lettie’s thoughts, now roared. The desire for more was no longer easily assuaged, but now resided at the forefront of her mind, demanding to be acknowledged. Lettie’s growing feelings for Collins scared her, not only because they diminished her past romantic feelings for Tristan and other partners, but because the blooming called into question the extent to which she had been operating mutedly in other areas of her life. Walking the line had kept her alive and did right by the colony, but Lettie questioned at what cost. If she allowed herself this…this taste of unknown fulfillment, what would turning the spout on entirely do?

Flustered, Lettie attempted to shake the disillusionments from her head but was unsuccessful in doing so. Once her duties had concluded for the day, a time in which her mind was usually able to settle down, reminders of the former night lingered mentally and physically, the folded clothes and unmade bed teasing her upon returning home. Lettie chastised herself for the foolishness and novelty of the whole thing and forced herself to go to sleep in the hopes of quieting her thoughts.

***

The next couple days played out in much the same fashion. Lettie trained hard with her unit, the fallout from her fight with Tristan having blown over. Despite her best efforts to focus on training and correcting the form of the newer members, Lettie was distracted by the night’s approaching sentry assignment with Collins. When the time finally rolled around, Lettie arrived at the clinic and took up her usual spot in the waiting foyer.

By the time Lettie saw Collins exit the interior area and step into the lobby, she’d bitten most of her nails to the nub.

“Hey,” Lettie greeted, standing up.

“Hey back at you.” Collins’s hair was pulled back in its normal braid, and the dark makeup from two nights before was gone, replaced with her usual lighter tones.

“Ready to head out?”

“After you.”

Lettie didn’t say anything, but Collins had noticeably invested in a heavier winter jacket, and the dark green color conflicted heavily with the stark white and gray of her uniform.

Collins halted once they got outside. “Umm, what are you doing?”

Lettie ignored her as she strapped her rifle to the side of the awaiting motorbike, slipping a helmet onto her own head and tossing the other to Collins.

When the other woman didn’t follow suit, Lettie lifted her visor.

“It’s supposed to get bad tonight and I learned my lesson the last time. Tonight, we ride in style.”

“So, we survive the snow, but die on a death trap instead?”

Lettie couldn’t refrain from laughing. “Death trap? You literally came to this planet in a spaceship flung through space, but you won’t get on a little motorcycle?”

“You’re surrounded by tons of protective metal on a vessel.”

“That’s what these are for,” Lettie responded, tapping her helmet.

Collins studied the helmet in her hands, hesitantly.

All the sarcasm disappeared from Lettie’s voice. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

Hesitantly but not wasting another moment, Collins slipped the helmet over her hair and closed the visor. Lettie lifted her leg over the bike and let her passenger get comfortable behind her before turning the bike on and maneuvering them onto the road.

“Hang on tight.”

Collins nodded intently, her helmet resembling a bobble head.

Lettie maneuvered the bike through the streets, careful not to hug any corners too tightly or accelerate too suddenly. Once they had been riding for several minutes, Lettie sped the bike up just enough that the air started to whip around them. Several times she looked in the side mirrors to ensure Collins was okay, acutely aware of how her hands never faltered around her waist.

When they finally arrived at the checkpoint, their replacements took their time departing. Lettie stomped her boots off in the little shelter’s entryway, its makeup almost identical to the last station they’d worked together. This time, though, Collins attended to the fire, expertly adding extra wood to the stack, and Lettie sat at the table, taking first watch. The station sat back from the highway, allowing them to see anyone coming down the road while also providing cover to their flank.

Twenty minutes passed before Collins settled down in the chair next to her, laying her leather gloves down on the table.

“That should keep us warm for a little while.”

Lettie smiled at her but didn’t say anything back, returning to looking through her scope.

They let the next hour pass in silence, both looking everywhere but at each other, when finally, Collins set the binoculars down heavily and lurched back in her chair. The abrupt move pulled Lettie’s attention from the task at hand.

“I should apologize about the other night, or I guess more so the morning. I shouldn’t have just left without saying goodbye.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I get it.” Lettie’s response came fast.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, if anything I should be the one apologizing. We’d been drinking, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry if you felt pressured by me. It was wrong of me to just assume you’re into women. Shit, I never even asked you. I guess I just hoped—I don’t know what I hoped, really, but yeah.” Lettie stopped short, aware her words verged on rambling.

Collins stared back at her, a small smile spreading across her lips. “Lettie, I’m queer.”

“What?” Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest that she thought she’d misheard the other woman over the cardiac roar.

“I like people for people. Men, women, neither—my relationships have never been bound by silly things like gender or sex. For me it’s always been about the emotional connection. Your assumptions weren’t too off the mark though.”

Lettie took a moment to digest the disclosure.

“So, then it’s not the gay thing, it’s just the me thing.” Her words came flat, stained with disappointment.

“Yes. I mean no and yes. It’s not just you, it’s both of us.” Collins motioned with her arms between them and then to the ceiling. “It’s this whole world!”

“You’ve totally lost me now.”

Collins stood to lean against the table, attempting to translate her thoughts into words. Naturally, she folded her arms across her chest and began to tap her forefinger against the opposite bicep.

“I didn’t skip out on you yesterday morning because I’m straight or because I don’t like you, Lettie. I left because I’m terrified of what will happen if I stop fighting and give in to caring for someone, who up until a few months ago, was supposed to be my enemy.”

Lettie moved to stand next to her, her eyes pointed down at the floor. The brush of their shoulders against one another sent electricity jolting down her arm.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do.”

Instinctively, Lettie grabbed the hand closest to her and slowly brought it to her lips, kissing the captain’s knuckles gently.

“Because I’m just as terrified. All I’ve ever known is looking over my shoulder and being wary of others to protect my own—and for good reason. But then the people I’ve been taught to hate the most drop out of the sky and there you are—this giant unknown. And I can’t even tell my family or my friends because they’d think I’d lost my mind. And maybe I have—the Front has done awful things, Collins.”

Collins lowered her gaze, and Lettie used her other hand to lift her chin, forcing the shorter woman to stare directly up at her. Swirled emerald irises anchored Lettie, the sole tether between her body and the ground.

“I’m most sorry, though, that despite all that hanging over us, I wouldn’t change us meeting—I wouldn’t take it back. I’d find you on that platform again and again, on any day, on any planet.”

“Lettie.”

The word was barely a whisper, ragged and throaty, but as soon as it was freed, Lettie closed the space between them, crushing her lips against Collins’s. She indulged her back, pushing against Lettie’s body with her own. Lettie’s fingers caressed her neck, keeping Collins’s face in place against her own, her other hand wrapped around the captain’s waist. Warm lips caused heat to spread from Lettie’s head downward, igniting the rest of her body on fire. She could feel Collins’s tongue against her lips, seeking entrance into her mouth, and Lettie parted her lips, tasting Collins with her own tongue. As Lettie thought she was going to pass out from a lack of oxygen, Collins pulled away from her. Both of their chests heaved, and a small, choked sigh escaped from Collins as she forcefully broke the grasp first, hinting at her loathing doing so.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to do that.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Lettie responded, breathing heavily.

“What do we do now?”

Collins perpetually two steps ahead of her, Lettie knew that it was unrealistic to not think about the future, but a larger part of her wanted to hold onto the moment for as long as possible.

“Umm, well, we’ve still got watch for another three and a half hours.”

Collins rolled her eyes. “I meant after, once the treaty is signed.”

“I—I honestly don’t know.”

The response didn’t put either of them at ease, but the uncertainty failed to ruin the moment. Resuming their shift, the remainder of the time passed under a more positive mood, their usual banter returning easily, all previous hesitations seemingly dissipated. Once their replacements arrived, the duo hopped back on the motorbike and drove in silence back downtown. Once they reached the mall, Lettie took care to park at one of the commercial access garages out back that she knew would be deserted. Turning the bike off, she stripped her helmet off and hopped down from her seat. Collins followed, and before she could get her helmet fully off, Lettie was kissing her, her body sandwiched between Lettie and the still warm motorcycle.

“I can’t convince you to stay over tonight, can I?” Lettie asked, her forehead leaning against hers.

“Tempting, but no. It’s probably not in either of our best interest if Nico comes to find me in the morning and can’t because you’ve persuaded me to be your cuddle buddy again.”

Lettie thought about correcting her, disclosing that she had more in mind than cuddling, but didn’t.

“Fair point, guess I did assign him to you in the first place.”

“Exactly,” Collins replied, pointing a finger at her and playfully shoving the helmet into Lettie’s chest. “That is karma firsthand, and for that I don’t feel bad for you at all.”

With one last lingering kiss, she walked toward an employees-only entrance of the building. Lettie watched, fixated, and didn’t take her eyes off her until she’d disappeared behind the door.

Securing the extra helmet behind her, Lettie pulled her own helmet back on and revved the engine several times before taking off at a breakneck speed. Eventually, she got close to 120 miles per hour on a particularly long stretch of road between city blocks and found herself laughing at the look she could imagine on Collins’s face were she along for the ride.

Lettie returned the bike to the motor pool at the rear of the convention center and walked the short distance to her apartment building. It wasn’t until she got to her room that she realized how cold she truly was, her toes and other extremities begging for heat. She crafted a rather large fire in the fireplace and cuddled with Max in bed until she drifted off to sleep, but not before Lettie caught herself wishing that it was Collins laying in her arms. The thought both comforted and terrified her.

Chapter
9

When they were far enough from the mess hall that Lettie was sure they’d cleared all lines of sight, she grabbed Collins’s hand and pulled her into an abandoned alleyway. The surprised woman caught on to her intentions right away, and before Lettie knew it, Collins’s mouth was on hers, quenching the desire that had pained her all day. Collins pushed her back against the brick wall and Lettie let her, not wanting the rough touch to cease. When they did finally part, Collins’s lips were bruised a dark red, a side effect of both the cold and continuous kissing.

With a quick cautionary glance around, they resumed walking down the cracked sidewalk, not touching but never far from each other’s grasp, playing at colleagues ducking close to hear one another. Buildings of varying style and architecture passed them, squat brick Italianate storefronts squashed up against textured Spanish family homes of stucco, both overshadowed by corporate offices bathed in hundreds of windows.

“As much as I’m totally not complaining, where are you taking me? We aren’t scheduled for sentry duty tonight.” The sun had just set, and the moonlight illuminated Collins’s breath in the air as she spoke.

“It’s a surprise.” Lettie sidestepped into the street at the last minute to allow a group of rowdy children through.

“A surprise?”

“You heard me, a surprise.”

“I hate surprises,” Collins retorted, cocking an eyebrow at the slightly taller woman.

“Well, you’re just gonna have to deal with this one then.”

Soon enough orderly balcony stoops and occupied quarters gave way to windows boarded with planks and streets littered with various piles of refuse. They talked excitedly as they entered an area of town where there were less and less footprints in the newly fallen snow. It wasn’t until they were almost to their destination that Lettie stopped suddenly, unlinking their arms.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

Her quick and certain answer made Lettie shiver, but she played it off. “Good. Close your eyes.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. The sooner you close them, the sooner we can get out of the snow.”

Collins let out a sigh but did as instructed. Taking her gloved hand, Lettie guided them the short block and a half away, paying extra care not to let Collins stumble over anything.

“Still closed?”

“Yes, your highness.”

A couple minutes later Lettie stopped them and positioned her charge’s body in the right direction. She stood so close behind her that the hair spilling from Collins’s braid tickled her face. Gently, Lettie placed her hands over her closed eyes.

“Ready?”

“The suspense is killing me.”

Playfully, Lettie kissed her where her jawline and neck met, and the little gasp that escaped Collins’s mouth made her grin.

“Open,” she directed, removing her hands from Collins’s face.

Lettie watched her face change as she studied the massive church. Three massive doorways loomed over them, beautiful Romanesque figures etched into the space beneath the arches. Finishing out the ivory brick building, a simple stained-glass daisy was positioned in the middle of the structure and gave way to twin copper-topped spires lifting into the sky.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Lettie agreed, still looking at the other woman’s face.

Collins picked up on her double meaning and pushed her lightly.

“What’s it called?”

“Cathedral of the Madeleine.”

Being careful to avoid any areas where the ground had iced over, Lettie led them up a stone staircase leading to the entrance. Even with no upkeep all these years, the light brown doors still held a little of their lustrous shine. It took a few tugs, but she was able to get one of the heavy doors open and they shuffled in, letting the door bang shut behind them. The temperature wasn’t much better inside of the expansive room, but it did shield them against the snow and wind.

The moonlight beamed through the huge windows and light also shone from several lit lanterns hanging throughout the sanctuary, the gigantic gold chandeliers useless.

“You planned ahead,” Collins observed, smiling at her knowingly.

“I did.”

Collins followed along down the aisle, passing pew after pew, all empty of their previous worshipers.

“It’s so…intact.”

“It is. The place has been standing since 1909, so what’s a little loitering here and there. Funny enough, most people used to confuse this place with Salt Lake Temple, which makes this place look like a shack.”

She turned around toward Lettie, her eyes bugging out. “You’re kidding? This place is already so massive.”

“I know. The Catholics had a thing about size. They got nothing on the Mormons though.”

They finally reached the front altar, and Collins brushed her hands over the marble priest’s mantle, admiring the sheer grandeur of it. Decorated in red fabric and golden inlays, the clergy’s dais took up a quarter of the wall behind them. Over that rose an explosion of color highlighting the crucifixion of Jesus, and above that a fresco-like mural decorated the ceiling, making it difficult to separate one mural from the other. Though the hues of red, gold, green, and blue shone slightly muted in the darkness, the height of their glory was not difficult to imagine.

“There’s just something about it that’s so beautiful and inviting,” Lettie continued, the words tumbling from her mouth, lost in thought. “The Temple feels much colder, like it’s looming over you, makes you feel small, ya know? And there’s these ugly giant gates to keep people out. I never understood how someone could want to go into that place, let alone worship there. This place, though, there’s so many little details that went into it.” She pointed toward the stained glass and murals that towered over them. “Those were all painted and installed by hand.”

Silence resounding, Lettie looked down from admiring the artwork and realized Collins was no longer taking in the cathedral but was staring directly at her. Lettie’s hands tingled, abruptly aware of how much she’d been blabbing, suddenly self-conscious.

“What?”

“I’ve never had my own personal tour guide before. It’s pretty cool, makes me feel upper crust.”

She seized Lettie’s hand before the woman could conjure a retort and pulled her toward the large organ nestled behind the altar. Nonchalantly, Collins hit one key, then another, and another, no sound emitting from any of them.

“It’s busted, been busted since I can remember.”

Determined, Collins gave all the keys one last attempt, sliding her fingers down the double keyboards only to be met with silence.

They continued back down the aisle, stopping in the middle once they found a pew that seemed appropriate. Lettie took her rifle off and laid it next to her. She sat, legs sprawled out in front of her, and Collins took a seat on the other side of her, crossing her legs beneath her. They sat in silence as Collins picked up one of the hymn books from the back of the pew in front of them and shuffled through the leaflet, some of the delicate pages sticking together. Replacing it, she turned back to Lettie.

“Do you believe in God?”

Lettie wasn’t surprised by the question, considering she had brought them to a church. Pausing for a moment, she gathered her thoughts.

“I don’t think I believe in the same God that these people did.” Lettie motioned around them at the empty hall. “But I believe in some form of a higher power, yes.”

“Did you go to church before the Impact?”

Lettie nodded her head. “Mostly for my parents though. My dad was Baptist, and my mom was, is, Christian.”

The intensity with which Collins listened hinted more questions were to come.

“And, did you like it?”

She bit her bottom lip, trying to think of the right words. “There were good and bad parts, like everything else. I mean, some of my earliest memories are from Sunday School lessons about how to be a good person and summers spent playing basketball after service. That’s not to say that there weren’t plenty of bad, overzealous apples. And the sermons about homosexuality being wicked and damnation to eternal hell definitely scarred me as a kid.” Lettie shrugged her shoulders. “The Church has been a part of Black folks’ lives for so long that even now, after everything we been through, it still has some pretty deep roots in OS. But I turned out alright so that’s something.” Collins was still mulling her answer over when Lettie reversed the line of questioning. “What about you? Consider yourself religious?”

“I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a doctor or any medical care professional in this day and age who is, but no, I’m not.” Lettie let her continue, not bothering to bring up Luthor’s subtle commitment to his faith. “Jewish Italian dad and a Romani Gypsy mom made for a religious upbringing that was…complicated. They were more into spirituality and rituals than anything else. I think they were both so familiar with the negative parts of religion—the division it sows—that they shielded me away from anything close to”—she motioned to the area around them—“this.”

In that pew was the first time Collins had mentioned her parents; Lettie curiously wondered why they’d decided to let their daughter enroll in the Front and fly into the midst of a dangerous conflict, but she did not interrupt.

“And now, mainstream religion is banned in the Capitol, so there’s not really been the chance for me to unearth my spiritual side.”

“Why’s it banned?” Lettie asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

“Religious and spiritual services aren’t permitted by the Front. Citizens are taught that to worship is to take time away from daily duties and responsibilities. I mean, I’ve heard rumors that there are still some who practice outside of the Capitol, but it’s rare. And dangerous.” Collins tapped her fingers on her lap, the disclosures making her anxious, so Lettie changed the subject.

“Well, this place certainly doesn’t get the use it probably once did, that’s for sure. Maybe we’ll soon be following in the atheist footsteps of Cypheria.”

“Maybe.” Collins took several moments to study the stained glass at the front of the building and turned back to her, continuing in afterthought. “How do you know so much about this place anyway?”

“I used to come here with my dad. Haven’t been in forever actually.”

Collins grabbed her arm and wrestled it around her, scooting closer to Lettie, who welcomed the heat of her body against her own.

“He would take me here after a really brutal training day, especially if I’d gotten my ass whooped,” Lettie continued, chuckling at the memory of her dad attempting to reassure an angrier, younger version of herself. “He would always say people like me and him needed to get away from the roar of it all, the city, the people. We needed places like these to recharge.”

“Sounds like he was a good dad.”

Lettie squeezed her hand in agreement. “He was, yeah. Crazy enough, he’s the only person I ever came here with, until today.”

Collins didn’t reply. She simply gripped Lettie’s face and brought it close, kissing her slowly but with intention. In Collins’s lips, Lettie felt the other woman understood the weight of their being there together and appreciation bloomed both ways. As they caressed, the ferocity of their movements intensified and soon Collins straddled her, each of her legs positioned on either side of Lettie’s, gripping the pew bench. Even in the brisk sanctuary, Collins didn’t object as Lettie peeled off her coat and then the heavy constricting uniform jacket underneath. Collins pushed all her weight against her, exploring Lettie’s mouth with her tongue.

Moaning from the intrusion, Collins smiled and interpreted the noise from Lettie as an invitation to rip her own vest and jacket off. Not waiting another moment, Collins slid her hands underneath Lettie’s shirt, who jerked from first the coldness and then the shock of desire that overrode it. As her abdomen was explored and hands slid around her back, Lettie lightly grasped Collins’s throat and peppered the tender skin with kisses and nips; this earned her several giggles in return. As Collins was about to lift the shirt over Lettie’s head, an abrupt screech cut the air of silence, and Lettie registered someone paging her radio. Careful not to let Collins fall off her lap, Lettie reached toward where her vest rested on the pew and unclipped the walkie.

“This is Lettie. Go ahead.”

“How soon can you get to headquarters?” Instantly, she recognized Tristan’s voice.

“I can probably be there in fifteen. Everything okay?”

“Well, make it ten. Best we talk about it in person.”

“Will do. See you in a few. Lettie out.”

Lettie replaced the radio, and Collins was already standing, slipping back into her uniform and jacket.

“I’m coming with you.”

As Lettie slipped the tactical vest over her head and quickly fastened the straps around her sides, she was about to disagree when Collins continued.

“That sounded serious, and I might be able to help.”

Her disagreements ebbed, recognizing both Collins’s valid point and that she couldn’t leave her there by herself.

Lettie didn’t argue further, and they made sure to leave with everything they’d brought and extinguished all the torches and lanterns before maneuvering out the entrance door and down the slick steps. The snow made it impossible to run, so they mustered a quick jog. Thanks to a few shortcuts through more populated areas and roads, it didn’t take them long to get to the convention center. The recon offices were located one floor below Command, and there was little traffic in the evening, so they opted for taking the elevators in lieu of the steps.

The level was broken up into two sections, half of it housing suites dedicated to reconnaissance and the headquarters of Lettie’s unit. The floor plan was set up in an open layout, with several offices lined around the center square. Lettie was not surprised when she saw Tristan, Nico, and Nyla gathered, leaned over one of the middle worktables, but the same did not apply when the three snapped to attention upon their entrance, revealing Christian seated at the table, hunched over a laptop.

“What’s going on?” Lettie started, skipping all pleasantries.

Tristan stood erect, hands placed akimbo on her waist. “This is OS internal intel; she shouldn’t be here.” The words came out sharp, and her eyes produced even sharper daggers aimed at Collins.

Before either woman could say more, Lettie replied without hesitation. “I trust her. She stays.”

The four looked between each other around the table, but didn’t dare to question Collins’s presence further.

“Well, down to business then.” Christian rose and slid his laptop across the table to Lettie and she caught it. “Early this morning I got a message from a contact at a trading outpost not too far from here. Turns out our buyer paid extra for discretion, planned to have the package delivered after hours.”

Lettie examined the ledger pulled up on the screen, confirming Christian’s report. Doing so allowed her to ignore the furrowing of Collins’s bridge and eyebrows as she caught up to the rest of them. “How long until the package reaches the colony?”

“It’s already here—came in a couple hours ago. I had my guys at the checkpoint stand down and let the merchant through hoping we could track it back to its owner.” Christian paused, choosing his next words. “Lettie, I confirmed the specs on it and this thing is no joke. With this kind of hardware…our people…the number of casualties and destruction would be significant.”

She allowed his words to sink in and glanced around to garner the expressions of everyone else. “There’s something else?”

Lettie could feel the anticipation rolling off Tristan who leaned against a separate desk, arms folded across her chest.

“Yeah.” She moved from her spot, took a tiny remote out of her pocket, and turned on a large TV monitor that’d been vaulted to the wall above the table. A subpar grainy video began to play on the monitor, clearly captured at night.

“Nyla was on sentry duty earlier this evening when she spotted several men, all former Hoodou, leaving through a checkpoint. She followed them, and they intercepted a truck stocked full of gear, which they brought back on foot into the city. Nyla took this footage about thirty minutes ago.”

The video followed a group of men as they made their way through the city, the footage edited to show various distances as they progressed. The final shot was closer than the rest and showed the men stopping at an abandoned convenience store. Lettie recognized the building and knew it wasn’t far from the Depot. As the video seemed to end, a man stepped out from the front entrance of the store and held the door open to allow the others to carry various boxes and packages inside. The shot paused on the man, and Lettie’s mouth was suddenly very dry, her ears hot.

“Isaac.”

Christian cleared his throat, revealing she wasn’t the only one with sudden cottonmouth. “That would explain how he was able to get in touch with the Southern trading post’s contacts. I mean, shit, for all we know, he put the order in on his way from Phoenix.”

“No.” Lettie’s voice came out harsher than she’d meant, and she made an effort to soften it. “Isaac wouldn’t attack OS. Not after what he’s been through and what we’ve done for his family.”

“I s’pose you right. But he might hit back at the person he reckons is responsible for the hell he been through,” Nico added.

Lettie analyzed his words, trying to discern their meaning, and finally looked back at Collins, who still lingered near the entrance of the room.

“Koenig.”

“Ivan? I don’t understand. Who is Isaac and what does this have to do with the Commander?”

Lettie ran her hands through her hair, sighing as she responded to Collins. “Isaac used to live in a colony out in Arizona, until a fleet of RCF ships blew the whole place to shit. Isaac’s wife was killed along with most of the population. They arrived here a few weeks before you did. He holds Koenig responsible for what happened.”

The look of confused horror on Collins’s face reinforced that she had no idea about the attacks. Her visceral reaction struck a nerve, and Lettie had to physically stop herself from grabbing her hand, instead crossing her arms and tucking her hands under her armpits.

“As he should,” Tristan murmured.

“Cut the shit, Tristan,” Lettie snapped. “There’s no way Isaac can contain the fallout from a bomb that strong—Christian said as much. A hit on Koenig would result in who knows how many deaths. We can’t let that happen.”

“So, what do we do?” Tristan’s tone was serious.

“We need to tell Command,” Christian voiced.

Lettie shook her head, Isaac’s and Aida’s faces flashing behind her eyes. “If we tell Command, then our mom will be forced to open a formal investigation, and Isaac will be put on trial. That happens, and Koenig will surely get wind of the attack and goodbye peace treaty. No, we need to keep this quiet and buy time until we can figure out what to do next.”

“And if they try setting off the bomb before we can intervene?”

Lettie turned to Collins, whose fingers were tapping rapidly. “They won’t. Isaac won’t risk harming his own people. Plus, lucky for us, Koenig is tied up in negotiations with my mom, and I doubt he’s going anywhere soon. He’ll be safe at the convention center.”

Despite her confidence, Lettie hoped Collins would take her at her word, because it was all she had to give in the moment.

“That’s fine by me. So again, I ask, what do we do?” Tristan was the speaker, but all eyes in the room were on Lettie.

Biting her lip, she worked to conjure a plan.

“Tristan, you and Nyla head to the convenience store and stake it out. I want to know who goes in and out, when, and with what. Nyla, bring your sniper rifle, but neither of you fire unless fired upon. You guys do not engage. Stay quiet and stay hidden. Understand?”

They both nodded in unison.

“What should I do?” Christian had resumed his original spot at the head of the table, his fingers mid-stroke on the keyboard.

“Stay here and monitor cams.”

“But—”

“We don’t have time to catch anyone else up on what’s going on, and we need someone here to monitor the feeds and make sure we don’t miss anything.”

He couldn’t argue with her rationale and didn’t.

Lettie turned to address the last two people in the room. “Nico, can you take Collins home and then meet at my place? Once Tristan and Nyla are in position, we’re going to have a little chat with Isaac.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Collins set her mouth ready to argue, clearly not happy with the blatant dismissal. Before she had a chance to, Lettie shook her head slightly and pleaded with her newfound…whatever they were, using only her eyes in the hopes that the other woman would refrain. Conveying understanding, Collins closed her lips together tightly, unsatisfied but compliant.

“I know this is crazy, but we’ve been through crazier, and if we stick together and stick to the plan, everything will be fine. Everyone, make sure to watch each other’s back and remember, this information cannot leave this room, or we risk causing a panic and jeopardizing the treaty, got it?”

Lettie met each of their eyes one by one, saving Collins for last; she only returned Lettie’s stare for a moment before dropping her gaze. Tristan and Nyla gathered their gear and were out the door within minutes. Lettie gave a quick hug to Christian and turned around in time to see Nico and Collins step into the elevator. The desire to run and pull her safely into her arms stung, but instead Lettie watched as the doors closed behind them, taking them away from her.

***

Lettie sat at the marble kitchen island, propped on a bar stool, her radio standing upright across from her, teasing. Nico snored a few feet away, legs splayed out on the couch. Only he could sleep through a potential bomb threat.

Lettie glanced at her watch, the time finally hitting one in the morning, and she diligently hit the talk button on her walkie.

“Tristian, checking in. Any update?” Lettie waited several seconds and when no response came, the worst began to play across her mind. “Tristian, report now.”

The radio crackled to life and Lettie sighed in relief.

“Heya, Lettie. It’s Nyla. Tristan done turned her radio off, girl can’t hear ya one bit.”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean her radio is off?”

There was a beat before she responded. “She reckoned there weren’t nothin’ wrong with goin’ down and takin’ a closer look at thangs. But I been ’n’ had her in my sights, so it’s all good.”

Lettie cursed. “What part of do not engage was unclear?”

“Trust, I know, I tried good ’n’ hard to stop her! But you outta everybody know how hardheaded that girl is. She ain’t one for listenin’ to nobody.”

The defeat in Nyla’s voice, even over the radio, rang familiar, and Lettie let up. “Should Nico and I ride over for backup? I don’t understand why Isaac hasn’t left yet; it’s been two and a half hours.”

“Yeah, I mean dude’s for sure still holed up tight in there. None but one way in, one way out. We right ’n’ fine though Lettie, I swear it. I’ll get Tristan to check in when she gets back and holler first thang if anythin’ changes.”

The two women may not have had the best relationship, but Nyla was still a member of her unit and of OS and Lettie trusted her unequivocally.

“Okay. But if anything even looks weird or out of place, you radio me immediately, clear?”

“Crystal. Nyla out.”

The next couple hours crawled by. As Lettie waited for Nyla and Tristan’s message that Isaac had finally left his fortress, she played with Max who was happy to indulge her in passing the time. Eventually even the Aussie grew bored, forcing Lettie to switch gears, and she sat in the lounge chair opposite Nico, silently studying her best friend’s peacefully dozed face. Even with the now-healed acne scars, his brandy skin was smooth, giving way to thick, dark eyebrows completely at ease but ready to reveal his honest opinion on any matter at any moment.

The thought brought to mind Collins, Tristan, Nyla, her mom and brothers, and everyone else currently residing in the camp whose lives could easily be snuffed out at any moment. Not only from the bomb, but any of the millions of disastrous side effects resulting from the Impact. For a moment, the thought clinched Lettie’s chest in a viselike grip, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe. She grabbed the counter as her vision began to swim. The rest of her body felt like it was being lifted off the ground. Right on the precipice of slipping, the vise lock around her torso was replaced by an arm around her waist. Lettie fought to lift her heavy head and realized that the arm belonged to Nico, as he bellowed her name.

“Lettie, you hearin’ me? Lettie!”

He half carried, half dragged her onto the couch he previously inhabited and continued snapping his fingers in her face.

“Lettie, look here.”

It was then that she realized her eyes were closed, and Lettie snapped them open. Her vision finally coming to, she focused on his face.

Calmed temporarily by the look of awareness, Nico dropped his hand to her knee, kneeling in front of her. “What the hell was that? One minute ya starin’ at me dead in the face and next you look like you can’t hardly stand.”

Any attempt to reassure her friend was cut short, the radio crackled to life in the kitchen, and both their heads snapped toward the sound. Given her state, Lettie didn’t argue when Nico motioned for her to stay seated and moved across the room to grab the walkie-talkie.

“Say again for Nico.”

“Nico, it’s Tristan. We have a problem.”

Nico glared at her as Lettie shakily rushed over to him, but he continued speaking. “Tristan, what’s goin’ on? Lettie’s here too.”

“Isaac. I don’t know…they…It’s too…”

The pair could only hear every other word she was saying and in frustration, Lettie grabbed the radio from Nico and moved toward the windows, as if that would help when they were already on the top floor of the building.

“Tristan, say again. Over.”

“Command got word of the attack. There’s like an entire squadron here.”

Fully clothed in layers seconds later, Lettie strapped the radio onto her tactical vest as she slid one arm into her jacket and then the other.

“Any eyes on Isaac?”

Lettie and Nico busted through the stairwell door and took the steps two at a time, hustling to avoid the radio’s signal dropping underneath the tons of surrounding cement.

“No. I saw my dad and his team go into the building though.”

“Okay. Stand by. We are on our way to you.”

Nico hopped onto the front of the bike parked near the curb and Lettie slid in behind him. With a motion of her hand, she commanded him to wait to start the engine up.

“Tristan, you still there?” Several moments of silence passed. “Tristan?”

The space of silence felt longer than an eternity, and Lettie was about to direct Nico to go when her voice came through again.

“We’re here. We’re fine, L. Don’t worry about coming here though. They got Isaac and his team. The convoy is headed your way. I’m pretty sure they’re taking them to headquarters.”

Tristan’s words were cut off as Lettie tapped Nico’s shoulder and held on tight as he accelerated. Even in their mad dash, they made sure to put on their helmets. As grateful as Lettie was for the shield from the wind and snow, her annoyance at the radio being temporarily inaccessible loomed larger.

Their arrival at the convention center came just as the convoy of several Humvees and even more bikes pulled into the entrance square outside. Lettie knew field protocol dictated they leave people at the C-station to overlook the bomb, but despite that, Tristan was right; the force Lettie stared at was no less than sixty men and women, all of them fitted with various shotguns, rifles, and pistols. The lead vehicle at the center of the group pulled her attention away from the spectacle, and throwing open the front passenger door, out jumped her mother, an AR-15 at rest in her hands. Tristan’s dad followed closely behind as did several soldiers donning scavenged, mismatched tactical gear. Their small procession marched around to the back of the Humvee, pulled the rear door down, and out came Isaac, tossed from the car, landing roughly on the ground, the snow-packed Earth breaking his fall. Several men and women shuffled to pick him up, grabbing him awkwardly around the shoulders and arms. Finally on his feet, blood dripped from his mouth, and someone had landed quite the punch to his cheek, the area already beginning to swell. Her mother turned to whisper something to Malachi, and Lettie knew it was the only chance she’d get.

The distance was close enough and it was dark enough that no one questioned her as Lettie navigated her way through the squadron and into the heart of the ensuing chaos. Finally close enough to the middle truck, Lettie revealed herself, stepping in front of Isaac and the soldiers that attended him.

Immediately, someone tried to grab her arm, but Lettie snaked away and got close enough to Isaac that she could see the glint from the nearby lit fire cans dance in his irises.

“Tell me this is all bullshit and just a misunderstanding. Tell me they got the wrong guy.”

His eyes mirrored the same look of despair and hopelessness he wore the night they first met; the only thing missing was the previous look of confusion at what the future held for him. Instead, this time, before Lettie stood a man who understood, in some way, that his fate had been sealed.

Isaac shook his head. “I’m sorry, my friend, I wish I could. Please watch over my Aida.”

Any further conversation between the two was severed, as a brown rucksack was slipped over Isaac’s head and someone pulled her arm hard, successfully dragging Lettie away from him.

“Take him to the Icebox.”

The soldiers moved instantly, obeying the order from her mother.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here? What are they doing here?” Regina’s words came vehemently and quickly.

Lettie looked to where her mother’s eyes pointed and saw Tristan, Nico, and Nyla standing a few paces away, dutifully waiting to be given instruction. Lettie turned her head toward where Isaac was about to disappear into the building and momentarily weighed going after him, but she knew it was both impossible and useless.

“I asked you a question.” Her mother’s voice rang deep, her arms akimbo on her waist, waiting for Lettie to speak.

Lettie contemplated lying, but between the utter exhaustion and sight of Isaac being dragged away, bloodied, she didn’t possess the energy to do so.

“We were surveilling the station.”

It took all of thirty seconds before her mother’s set eyebrows relaxed into a look of clarity and then straight back to pissed.

“You knew what he was planning, and you didn’t come directly to me?”

“We weren’t sure, it was just—”

“I don’t want to hear excuses. It’s a yes or no question, Leticia.”

“Yes, I knew.”

If it weren’t already obvious, the combination of her hands on her waist and the way her nostrils flared made Regina’s level of irate glaringly clear.

“Nico!”

Lettie tried not to let her mom’s bark over her own shoulder rattle her as Nico hurried over to them.

“Ma’am?”

“Take my daughter back to her apartment and make sure she stays there until you receive further instruction from me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Arguing was useless, as Lettie knew the reprimand was better than the alternative of being escorted by the nearby soldiers. Her mother’s hot gaze on her back didn’t recede until the two arrived back at the bike, alone, Nyla and Tristan having conveniently disappeared. Lettie once again hopped onto the back and threw her arms around Nico’s big frame loosely.

It was 3:38 a.m. when they finally walked through the door and Lettie threw her keys on the kitchen island, flopping onto the couch, face down. Max let out a rare whine as Lettie moaned loudly into the cushion, letting her anger and disappointment out into the fabric. The cushion next to her head sank under Nico’s weight, but she didn’t turn over, letting herself be partially smothered in the couch.

“Well, that was some shit.”

Interrupted from her pillow therapy and having spent the remainder of her energy on the way up, Lettie’s body suddenly sagged, heavy, and she could barely keep her eyes open. Getting up, Lettie quickly removed her coat and vest, hopping on one foot at a time to do the same with her boots.

“I’m going to sleep. You know where the spare room is.” Lettie was already halfway to her own room before the words had fully left her mouth.

“I’m good. Gonna keep ole girl company out here.”

Though the words went unsaid out loud, Lettie knew Nico was worried she’d try to sneak out once he was asleep. Little did her best friend know, her head pounded, and she was in no mood to attempt a jailbreak.

“Suit yourself.”

Closing the door behind her, pitch blackness engulfed her, and she made no effort to change that. After a quick trip to the bathroom and switching out her jeans and shirt for boxers and a tank top, Lettie collapsed onto the bed, the coldness of the sheets welcoming despite the arid temperature of the apartment.

It took her awhile to fall asleep, the night’s events replaying over in her head, trying to figure out how they could’ve changed the outcome. It was on the twelfth time through that Lettie pondered the look on Collins’s face as she waited for the elevator doors to close. Lettie hadn’t questioned it at the time, but now the moment plagued her afterthoughts. Collins had avoided looking at Lettie and Nico, her gaze directed at the floor, head lowered deep in thought and reflection, her hand tapping ferociously against her thigh. Those hands that Lettie had grown to admire and yearn for spoke volumes. Eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, the foreboding images kept her up the rest of the night.

***

By the time her mind bent to the call of her tired body and began to entertain the idea of sleep, rays of sun illuminated the room. Groaning, Lettie pulled the comforter over her head and finally felt her mind go blank within the darkness. Confusing it for a dream at first, she registered a knock at her bedroom door and knew from the sudden disorientating feeling of shock that she couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour. The intruder didn’t wait for a response, barging into the room.

“L, wake up. We gotta get goin’,” Malachi called. “Command wants to see us.”

Unspoken but collectively understood, Lettie knew that by Command Nico was explicitly talking about her mom and was quickly reminded once again of last night’s failure. When she finally arose from the bed, Nico was satisfied and left her to get ready. Outside of running a comb through the patch of hair atop her head, Lettie didn’t bother with any of the other pleasantries, preferring to avoid looking in a mirror altogether, half out of carelessness, half out of concern for the effects of insomnia she’d find written across her face. Sniffing around, she managed to find a gray knit sweater and pair of black jeans that had no discerning odor and threw them on. To top the look off, Lettie threw a beanie over her head, the same one she’d let Collins borrow what felt like weeks ago. As Lettie fastened her boots onto her feet, Nico came to a stop in front of her, and she glanced up at him.

“You look like shit.”

“That makes two of us,” she responded.

The circles under his eyes and redness surrounding his pupils made it clear they’d probably got about the same amount of sleep.

“Whadahya think Command’s gonna do to us?”

“I don’t know, Nico,” she responded, flatly.

“Well, you reckon everybody else gon’ be there too?”

The insinuation in his voice told Lettie that Nico had also given some thought to how her mother had found out about Isaac, and Lettie didn’t have an answer for him that didn’t make her want to turn around and crawl back into bed, so she said nothing. Getting the message, Nico followed her out the door, and they silently made their way over to the convention center. The square outside of the modern building was full of people coming and going, a stark contrast to the scene in the same area just a few hours ago. Once the elevator finally dropped them off at the uppermost floor, they strode through the first set of doors, and as the large wooden doors closed behind them, Lettie spotted Nyla, Tristan, and Christian seated on a bench outside the second set of double doors that led to the master conference room. Nico took a seat next to them and Lettie began to ask how everyone was doing when the doors at the front of the room opened, grabbing their attention.

Collins donned her full captain’s uniform, not a button or fiber out of place. Her hair was done up neatly in her usual braid, and Lettie was convinced that she’d traveled back in time and was staring at the foreign girl she’d met less than four months ago—until their eyes finally locked. Though her makeup covered them well, as Collins made her way closer to their position, Lettie could make out bluish-blackish shadows under her eyes, and the wrinkles at the edges of her eyelids revealed strain. Eyes wide from the shock of seeing them, Collins didn’t miss a step as General Lydecker and two other RCF soldiers whose names escaped her half walked, half escorted the captain toward the exit. Lettie yearned to confront her right then and there, but didn’t, the pleading in Collins’s eyes and the sudden dryness in her own throat causing her to watch silently as she passed and disappeared the way they’d come.

“Beta snitch.”

Tristan’s muttering did not pull Lettie’s gaze away from the vanishing group, but the sound of the opposite set of doors opening caused her to snap to attention. Malachi held one of the doors open behind him and looked over their little group, his eyes momentarily halting on Tristan but ultimately landing on herself.

“Lettie. Command is ready to see you.”

Lettie took her time as she followed him into the room, the door clanging shut behind them, and took a seat in the chair that had been pulled out at the nearest end of the table. At the other end of the table rested a condensed group of her fellow council members. Luthor and Luce sat on the right of the table opposite Malachi and LuAnn, and in the middle, taking up her usual spot, sat her mom. The woman still wore her clothing from last night and clearly had had a productive night; if she felt the byproducts of exhaustion, they didn’t show on her flawlessly done-up face.

“We’ve called you here today to get a better understanding of the events that led to last night, garner your level of knowledge of the attack, and if necessary, assign and enforce punitive measures.” Regina paused for a moment to ensure the weight of her words were felt and then continued. “Malachi.”

“We’ve received testimony that not only did you know about the Hoodou attack, but that you knowingly kept such information from Command, endangering the lives of this entire Colony. Is that true?”

“Isaac and whoever else was caught helping him aren’t Hoodous anymore, so I think it’s only fair you avoid referring to them as such. They were initiated in just like the rest of us.”

“Lettie, that’s not a relevant point right now. Answer the question.”

Heeding LuAnn’s words, she rubbed her hands down her thighs, squeezing them tightly into fists. “Yes, I knew about the attack and yes, I kept the information from the council. But I did so for a sound reason and by no means did I stand by idly while lives were at risk. My team had a plan and—”

“By team you mean my daughter, your younger brother, Nico, Nyla, and Ms. Collins, an RCF commanding officer.” Malachi uttered the words more as a statement than a question, clearly already in possession of the answer.

“Yes. We had every intention of intercepting Isaac and the bomb before—”

This time it was Luce who cut her off. “Before he could blow our colony and everything we’ve built to dust?”

Lettie’s irritation at once again not being allowed to finish her sentence was high, but she held her tongue, nodding her head.

Luthor spoke next, and for the first time since she’d walked in, Lettie didn’t feel as if she was being attacked. “Lettie, you say you had a plan, but what exactly were you thinking? Because I think I speak for us all when I say we are dumbfounded by the actions you and your team took.”

“As soon as we identified Isaac as being in possession of the bomb, it was my intention to speak with him directly in hopes of…persuading him not to go through with it. I thought discretion to be the best course of action to do that and to preserve the treaty.”

She made every effort to hold her shoulders and chest high as she spoke, but she knew her voice wavered at the end, pleading for them to focus on what mattered.

“Isaac is a good man and he deserved, deserves, the chance to show that.”

“I’m sure he is,” Luthor sighed, his mouth pulled taunt in a grim line, “but treaty aside, he put his revenge before the colony and could have destroyed innocent lives, and you were complacent in almost allowing him to do so.”

It was in that moment that Lettie understood a line had been drawn, and it dawned on her how useless it was to argue when a decision had clearly already been made regarding her guilt, so she remained silent for the rest of the inquisition.

After Lettie sat through several more minutes of direct criticism and questioning, Regina took the floor.

“It is the decision of the council members here today that you be put on a temporary probationary period in which you are to be suspended from Command meetings for the next three months. Since your second- and third-in-command aided in your act of insubordination and we can’t risk suspending you all from duty, from this point forward, all field missions within the intelligence unit are to be approved either by myself directly or through Malachi. Is that understood?”

Lettie gripped her hands tightly in her lap, but nodded her head slightly.

“Malachi, Luthor, Luce, LuAnn, please bring in the others,” she looked down at her watch, “but give us five minutes before you do.”

Lettie remained seated as they shuffled out of the room, Luthor giving her shoulder a quick squeeze before shutting the door behind him. Once they were alone, Regina got up and repositioned herself in one of the chairs closest to Lettie.

“That was a stupid thing you did last night. You could have gotten yourself killed, not to mention your friends, and that girl.”

Lettie didn’t realize her head was hanging until the mention of Collins caused her to snap to attention, eyes fixed on her mother.

“I may not be around as much as either of us would like, but I’m no idiot. When we attempted to restrict Captain Collins’s training access earlier, she suddenly sparked to life and found a way to smooth talk her way out of the punishment. She’s a smart girl, I’ll give her that. I can only assume that has something to do with you?”

Again, Lettie remained silent, a tingling suspicion that her lack of a response spoke volumes.

“Mmm.” Regina rubbed her hand back and forth over her mouth, nodding her head. “You know, I’ve never bothered to worry myself about whom you decide to get close to, but if you take away anything from today, let it be this: duty and love seldom complement each other well; one tends to always naturally overshadow the other. For your sanity and the future of this colony, I hope you find a way to change that fact, ’cause Lord knows I never did.”

Perplexed, Lettie replayed her mom’s words in her head, trying to grasp their meaning, and prepared to ask for further explanation when the door behind them opened and the other members of Command returned, trailed by her friends. The accused exchanged quick glances as they took their seat,s and Lettie rose reluctantly, deserting the room.

The rest of the morning passed without incident. Lettie returned to her room and slept until noon. When the need for food finally surpassed her need for sleep, Lettie trudged over to the mess hall and ate her meal alone, on autopilot. It wasn’t until someone thumped down in the chair next to her that she snapped to, clearly taken by surprise. Luthor peered back at her, his buzzed sandy brown hair hidden underneath a salt-and-pepper ivy cap.

“I was about to head out to the clinic when I thought I’d grab a quick bite to eat and saw you looking miserable over here. I figured, as your doctor, it was only my duty to come over and make sure you’re okay.”

Lettie didn’t bite, so he continued.

“I also thought you’d want to hear about the latest information regarding Isaac.”

She immediately bolted up in her seat, eyes trained on his, hanging off his every word. Since her meeting ban had gone into effect immediately, secondhand was the only way she’d be getting updates for a while.

“What happened?”

“Well, everything was presented to the board and the evidence against him was pretty damning.”

Luthor paused for a moment, unsure, and Lettie put her hand over his larger one. “Luthor, please, tell me.”

“I’m so sorry, Lettie. I and several others voted against it, but it wasn’t enough. And it didn’t help that the story’s gotten out all over the colony—everyone knows about the bomb. The other four were spared and will be exiled, but Isaac—Isaac is to be executed tonight, in the square, at sunset.”

For a moment, Lettie thought she was going to be sick but held it together long enough to read between the lines. Word was out that Isaac was planning to assassinate Koenig, and the information had most certainly been disclosed to him by now. The knowledge would not have gone over well with the uptight patriarch, and in a move to avoid coming off as weak and unable to control her own citizens, her mother, Command, had placed politics over humanity and was sentencing Isaac to death. One man’s death for an alliance between two factions. A small price to pay in many, including her mom’s, eyes.

As Lettie left the table, she could hear Luthor call after her several times but ignored him. Her body felt like it was on autopilot, which was good because she didn’t think she could have decided on a place to go otherwise. Lettie knew she didn’t want to be alone, but couldn’t think of anyone she wanted to be around either. So, she walked. And walked and walked.

Before long, Lettie arrived at the entrance of the cathedral and didn’t hesitate, opening one of the heavy doors and letting it clang behind her. Lettie took her time lighting several gauntlets, and then she sat in one of the empty pews and tried to force herself to cry. At least if she did that, she’d feel better, or so she thought. But she couldn’t. No tears would come, only anger. Anger that as much as Lettie’d grown to cherish the unique friendship with Isaac, she couldn’t summon one single tear for his impending demise. Frustration at the inability coupled with the utter despair left a hot molten gas rolling in her chest. Without warning, Lettie doubled over, her body dispelling the contents of her stomach, the hot molten dislodged. The vomiting eventually gave way to an ugly dry heaving which eventually gave way to silence.

An hour passed and then two, the hands ticking away, a cruel countdown that couldn’t be stopped. Sunset wasn’t far off when the wooden doors clanged behind her, and Lettie twisted her head slightly to turn away whatever random atoning soul had stumbled into the chapel. Dwindling sunrays bounced off the familiar spotless white-and-gray uniform, contrasting the oldness of the structure’s interior. Lettie stood up and made her way into the massive aisle, but did not move closer, forcing the intruder instead to close the distance between them. Collins stopped several feet away from her.

“I’ve been looking for you for hours. No one knew where you were, and you weren’t answering your radio.”

“Turned it off,” Lettie responded, her words clipped.

“Well, I’m glad I finally found you. I wanted to—”

“Why didn’t you listen to me?”

“I’m sorry?”

Lettie rubbed her hands over her face and let out an exasperated sigh. “I ordered you to let me handle it and instead, you went behind my back.”

“Let me remind you, because clearly, you’ve forgotten; I’m not your soldier and you do not command me. I’m your—”

“My what, Michelle?” The harshness of her words was thick, but she didn’t care, the molten in her chest burning hot once more. “What are you, honestly? Because you can’t be my friend—friends don’t say one thing to your face and then stab you in the back.”

“I…I’m sorry you feel that way, but do you think that I enjoyed going behind your back? Because I didn’t, but there were lives on the line and I had to do something.”

Both their voices were raised and echoed loudly off the high hollow ceilings.

“You’re right, there were lives on the line. And now one of my actual friends is going to die because of your actions.”

Collins grabbed her own neck, putting a physical barrier between herself and Lettie, confirming the words had hit home, but Lettie refused to take them back, letting them hang in the air.

Collins’s mouth opened and closed several times before she decided on her next words.

“Look, I came here to apologize,” she said, her voice smaller than before. “Because I am genuinely sorry. I’m sorry I betrayed your trust, and I am sorry about Isaac, but you aren’t the only one who has people to protect, Lettie.”

Collins enunciated her name so that each syllable was hard.

“Ivan may not be a saint, but he doesn’t deserve to be blown up! And who knows how many casualties would have gone with him. And…and all because of these stupid allegiances!”

Lettie’s whole body felt so hot that she couldn’t think of anything to do except throw her hands behind her head, pacing slightly within the aisle.

“Fuck!”

The other woman must have taken that as an indicator that the conversation had come to an end, because when Lettie finally turned back around, Collins pierced her with one last indeterminable look before walking down the aisle and disappearing through the doors without another word.

Even with fresh feelings of betrayal, once the other woman was gone, Lettie found herself immediately craving her return, every bone in her body aching for such. The overwhelming feeling of emotional reliance was foreign to her, and Lettie kicked the side of one of the dusty pews. The action caused a small thud, but the pew didn’t budge an inch, the solid wood having withstood much worse.

“What’d that thang ever do to ya?”

Lettie spun around, surprised to hear the familiar, heavily accented voice. Nico stared back at her, shaking the snow off his coat, the little flakes coating his beard and leaving a wet sheen in their wake.

“What are you doing here?”

“I escorted Michelle, and she asked me to wait outside so y’all could have it out.” He turned his head toward the direction of the huge wooden doors. “By the way she peaced outta here, I reckon’ that was a bust. You good?”

“I’m fine.” Lettie gave him her back, taking a seat in one of the pews closest to her. She didn’t argue as he joined her in the row.

“You sho’ ’bout that? ’Cause I reckon’ I’d feel some kinda way if my boy was finna lose his life, and I got into it with my girl all in the same day.”

Lettie turned to him, eyes wide, taken by surprise at his words. “What?”

“L, I’ve done known you since we was ashy lil kids rollin’ ‘round in the dirt; I done seen you with enough women, and a few bums, to know when something’s up. That and bein’ ordered to always be followin’ somebody ’round kinda forces you to know that person; me and Michelle done had a lotta time to talk, sometimes ’bout you.”

Lettie was still trying to make sense of her friend’s words and was a bit fearful of what he’d revealed to Collins about her when he continued.

“About damn time if you ask me,” he stated, interlocking his hands behind his head in a nonchalant fashion. “I was gettin’ tired of watching y’all two make googly eyes at each other.”

Lettie crossed her arms across her chest, frazzled. “What? There were no googly eyes!”

“Uh huh, sure, bruh.”

“Well even if there were, there won’t be anymore, not after today,” Lettie muttered, sighing.

“How come?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. After what I said, I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

Nico scoffed. “She don’t hate you; she’ll forgive ya. But you gotta go first. Forgive her, I mean.”

“Nico, she went behind my back. Behind our backs,” Lettie replied, turning her entire body toward him and pulling her leg up, one foot planted on the pew. “Isaac may have been guilty of some awful shit, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”

“Yeah, you right, he don’t,” he said, nodding his head. “But Michelle was also lookin’ out for her own people too. You woulda done the same thang if it’d been you in her shoes. As shit as it is, Isaac done made his choice, man let his anger and wantin’ to get back at folks get the best of him, and he gone pay the price for that. But Command’s the one done chose to put him down, not you, not me, and not Michelle.”

“I can’t—”

A succession of gunshots rang out, interrupting their conversation as the fatal sounds penetrated the cathedral’s thick walls.

Heart sinking, Lettie peeked at her watch and then one of the large windows, realizing the sun had already set and with it, the end of Isaac’s life. The sudden loss of life touched Nico as well, and neither of them spoke, instead taking a moment of silence to honor him. As the candles around them began to burn down, Lettie broke the silence first.

“Are you going to tell the others about Collins and me?” She knew the answer to the question, but in her current vulnerable state, she needed her best friend’s verbal confirmation.

“Nah, it ain’t my place to. But what I do know is, now that this here treaty’s done and this business with Isaac is over, it ain’t gone be long before the Front head on home. If you don’t wanna be leavin’ bad blood between you two, ya chances for a good endin’ are runnin’ out fast.”

Lettie shoved her shoulder into him as she stood and moved into the aisle.

“When did you become such a love expert?”

“How you mean?” he chuckled, following her down the aisle. “I’m basically a today version of Romeo, bruh.”

“Mmm, I’m Romeo, you’re more of a Mercutio.”

As they departed the cathedral and headed home, making sure to bypass the square by a wide girth, Nico’s warning rang in the back of Lettie’s head. She now had a new enemy to worry about: time.

Chapter
10

The concrete steps dug into her back and rear of her legs, but it didn’t bother Lettie as she moved to rest her chin in the palm of her hands, elbows propped up on her thighs. A particularly heavy snowfall last night had left mounds of snow covering every surface in sight, and the group of children giggled, indulging in the fresh snowfall. The toddlers were content with either consuming the ice, their little faces shuddering in discontent at the unexpected brain freezes, or hopping through the snow, staring in amazement at the tracks left behind them. Meanwhile, the older kids shaped huge goblet-sized snowballs and pounded each other relentlessly, laughing every time a ball hit its intended target. It was not difficult to pick Aida out of her companions, her long hair braided back in painstakingly matching braids that shaped her skull, ending at the nape of her neck, a knitted gray hat stationed lopsided over the design. She was also the only one crafting angels in an undisturbed snowbank, removed enough from the other kids that none of them bothered her.

Mustering all the courage she could, Lettie left her place on the stoop across the street and dodged through several people, approaching the group. Mrs. Raza spotted her first as Lettie came closer. Graying spindly hair, tanned dark skin, and donning piles of shawls over her usual flower-patterned floor-length dress, Mrs. Raza was surprisingly spry for her age. She offered Lettie the same greeting given to everyone honored enough to be in her company, embracing her in a quick hug, and then pointed Lettie in the direction of Aida. By the time she’d gotten close enough to be heard without yelling, Aida no longer moved her feet and arms back and forth, instead lying completely still in the snow.

“You know, you keep laying out here like that and you’ll catch a cold. Even snow angels get sick.”

Her head snapped up from the ground, staring at the newcomer upside down, the angle delaying recognition.

“Lettie!?”

“Hey, Trouble.”

Lettie braced herself as Aida collided with her full force, her feet barely staying planted. Lettie waddled haphazardly, playing at almost falling over from the collision.

For a moment Aida leaned into the embrace. It was only after they separated that she remembered the two were not completely out of sight of the others, and her fabricated wall of coolness resumed.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have bad guys to track or something?”

“I was in the area. Thought I’d come check on Mrs. Raza.”

Aida’s dark brown eyes, an exact replica of Isaac’s, grew serious and the expression contrasted severely with her transitioning pubescent features.

“Lies. You know you don’t have to keep checking up on me, right? I’m fine. And the execution was like a week ago.”

Instinctively wanting to protect her, Lettie shook her head, bewildered by the girl’s directness at the death of her father but then remembered that Aida’d been through enough catastrophes to last more than a lifetime.

“You got me, I’m checking up on you” she answered, nodding her head slowly. “But, you can’t blame me for wanting to see how my favorite girl is.”

The comment earned her an exaggerated eye roll, and Lettie moved to sit on the concrete curb, clearing some snow and patting the spot next to her. Aida took it, her thin, knobby legs particularly exaggerated next to Lettie’s long, thicker ones.

Though their meetings weren’t a rare occasion before Isaac’s absence, for the past eight days since, Lettie had made a point to see Aida every day. The two of them had fallen into a bit of a routine, Lettie thrusting her presence upon Aida whenever she had a spare hour and Aida coolly but genuinely appreciating the company.

“I just wish everyone would stop fussing over me. Even my friends are acting all weird, it’s not fair.” She exhaled deeply and a wispy white cloud formed in front of her.

A deep pain ebbed in Lettie’s own chest at her words, understanding them more than the girl knew.

“You’re right, it’s not fair. But people deal with stuff in their own way, and luckily you have a lot of people who care about you, including your friends, who just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I guess.”

Lettie wasn’t sure how to best phrase her question and delivered her next words carefully.

“I, uh, I been meaning to talk to you about something. Has anyone…told you what happened before? Ya know, about why he was…killed.”

“Does it matter?” Her voice was raised slightly, and Lettie tried to keep her own face relaxed in the wake of the sudden outlash, remaining silent.

Several moments passed and Lettie could feel some of the anger fade from her, watching as Aida dug the toe of her boot into the snow.

“I’ve heard things, people talking. Like I said, I don’t think knowing matters. Knowing won’t bring him back.”

The familiar pang of a multitude of feelings attacked Lettie’s chest; as much as she could relate, she was the worst at comforting others, and the present situation was no different.

Fixing her mouth to mutter her condolences for the umpteenth time, Lettie was slightly surprised as Aida looped her arm through her own, leaning into the larger woman’s side. Her astonishment was only surpassed by the girl’s next words.

“I don’t need any more apologies. I’m done being the girl with the dead parents. My dad is with my mom now, and nothing anyone does or says is going to change that.”

Lettie nodded again, this time doing her best to fight back against her watering eyes.

“I hear you and you’re right. But you’re also allowed to be mad, or sad, or whatever other emotions might come up.”

Throwing her arm across her back, Lettie pulled Aida tight before releasing her once more. Suddenly, Lettie was sixteen again, two years older than Aida, navigating the hazy moments between sleep and crying, neither filling the space recently vacated by her dad, and the words from her mom and Luthor that brought her comfort.

“I know it’s not the same, but you know if you ever need anything, I’m here, right? Anything at all.”

“Anything?” Her face brightened up instantly, and Lettie was sure she’d missed her meaning but nodded anyway.

“Can I take one of the motorbikes out?”

“No, but good try.”

“What about my own gun?”

“Absolutely not.”

Aida pursed her lips in thought, but inevitably shook her head.

“There is one thing, but you’re gonna think it’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

“What about some comics?”

“Comic books?” Lettie asked, puzzled by the random request.

“Yeah. My dad used to bring them back for me anytime he’d leave the colony, and we’d tear through ’em together. I didn’t have time to grab any before we left home. Sucks, too, because I figured I could try making my own, but I don’t got nothing to go off of.”

“Speak no further, Trouble. I know just the person to talk to. Anything else?”

“That’s it, for now.” Aida stared smugly at Lettie, the beginnings of a smile peeking out. “I’m sure I’ll think of a few other things.”

“I’m sure you will. I’ll get your comics, but in the meantime, be safe and please take it easy on Mrs. Raza, yeah?”

Aida nodded her head and hustled back toward the larger group with renewed vigor. Lettie said goodbye to Mrs. Raza, instructing her to be on the lookout for a drop-off from LuAnn and Christian’s people containing the requested supplies and some extra rations for the other children whose parents were no longer around to watch over them.

Despite still being on probation with Command and barring clearance for field operations, Lettie remained in control of the growing recon unit, and her arrival at their little nook of the convention center was coupled with a bombardment of questions and topics that needed immediate addressing. For the rest of the day, Lettie dug in, letting everything outside of those walls go. It’d been a little over a week since Isaac’s death, and Lettie welcomed the routine distraction of immersing herself fully in her work. It wasn’t until a jostling pat on her back that she finally disengaged from the monitor in front of her, Walkman headphones out her ears. It was Nico and behind him, Tristan and Nyla.

“What’s up?”

“You been grindin’ for damn near eight hours. Get movin’, there’s a bonfire out by Cardinal’s point tonight. We finna head that way if you down.”

“I don’t know. I’m not really in a partying mood, and someone’s got to man things around here tonight,” Lettie replied, motioning around them.

“Oh, come on, Zo and Meredith are keepin’ eyes on thangs tonight. And, I done heard a buncha Front workers gone be there for the goin’ ’way. You know who might come through.”

Ignoring Nico, Lettie looked past him to Nyla and Tristan. “Why are you going? You hate the Front.”

Tristan rolled her eyes. “You’re right, I don’t like betas and I think anyone who advances the Front’s agenda deserves to die a fiery death, but I’ll be the first to admit they’ve got a few sexy ass men and women who might make for good thirds.” She chuckled, grabbing Nyla around the shoulders and brushed her lips against the younger woman’s cheek.

Nyla playfully wiped away the lipstick smear she’d left behind.

Nico made a disgusted face at them but turned back toward Lettie.

“Whatcha say, you in?”

***

The chorus of the festivities reached them before they could see anything, the trees thick within the forest. Lettie’s watch read 8:27, and the moon was at full crest, shining bright through the shadows of clouds, contending with the portable floodlights. It took thirty minutes to hike up the small slope to their destination. Nico cracked jokes and Nyla and Tristan laughed rambunctiously in response. Their jovial mood was hardly contagious, leaving Lettie to her own thoughts. Though only a week had passed, Lettie felt like she hadn’t seen Collins in months, unaccustomed to not having their daily meetings and lessons. The feeling continued to tug at her and was lessened only by the group finally stumbling into the clearing, greeted by several cheers.

The opening within the trees couldn’t have been any more than fifty yards across, and though Lettie’d been to the area multiple times, to a first-time visitor, the underwhelming area of haphazardly cleared brush could have been easily overlooked. An outcropping of cracking rock and tightly knit trees enveloping them in a cocoon of woodland, moonlight, and stars.

Nico’s words came to fruition as Lettie spotted a large number of faces from RCF dispersed among the crowd. Gray, worn uniforms denoted that most of them were various laborers and workers, but she did note the white gleam of several higher-ranking officers, and scanned the crowd looking for Collins, to no avail. Nico and the others made an immediate beeline toward a circle of coolers where drinks were being handed out. Lettie declined their invite, instead making her way toward the orange glow that lingered near the middle of the clearing.

The fire was larger than she had expected, its embers taller than her own 5’ 9”, reaching toward the sky as if giving praise to the moon. A group of guitar players and a few handheld drums, amplified by portable speakers, carried a steady but deep beat, adding another layer to the melody of the night. Lettie commandeered a seat on one of several smooth boulders that were being used for makeshift seats, close enough to the fire that the heat warmed her face. Without thinking, she picked up several twigs and threw them into the fire, watching as their existence was snuffed out. Several minutes passed as Lettie observed the groups that had begun to form, trying not to look too preoccupied with her search. A small shiver traveled down her spine as she finally spotted her target.

Collins wore her uniform, but instead of her usual formal dress coat, she donned a dark brown parka and a frayed tan scarf wrapped around her neck, tucked neatly into the jacket collar. Her braid had also been replaced by a messy bun. Though she was with a small group of people, her attention was currently directed at one person, the two of them standing off from the rest of the entourage. Lettie glowered as the two women erupted in laughter, Collins apparently relaying something so incredibly hilarious that her counterpart felt inclined to place her hand on Collins’s forearm, resting it there for several seconds.

The charmed woman wore a matching officer’s uniform, except where Collins’s hugged her tightly, the stranger’s fell loosely over her petite figure. Regret at not taking up Nico’s offer of libation struck her, but Lettie shook it off and stood up from her seat confidently.

Careful not to move too fast, Lettie meandered her way through the crowd toward the exchange. When she’d finally reached them, she didn’t have to wait long before catching Collins’s eye, bringing their conversation to a halt.

“Lettie.” Her name fell off Collins’s lips breathily, possessing none of the bite it had at their last encounter.

“Hey.”

There was a moment of silence as something Lettie couldn’t quite name passed between them.

Collins recovered first.

“Apologies. Jordyn, have you met Regina’s daughter, Leticia, before?”

“I don’t think we have.”

Lettie cut in, offering her hand, and the woman shook it vigorously.

“I can’t believe we’re just now meeting. I’ve heard so much about you from everyone in OS and Collins that I feel like I know you already.”

Pale blue eyes and an explosion of copper freckles covered the woman’s ivory skin, the top of her head covered in stark red hair fringed short.

“I can assure you that everything you’ve heard is all false. Though I’m sure Collins here might have something to say about that.” Lettie’s tone grew curt. “Unfortunately, she’s never once mentioned you though.”

Jordyn gave a nervous laugh and looked between Collins and Lettie, grasping for a response.

Collins saved her the deliberation. “Jordyn, would you excuse us?”

“Sure.” Frazzled and taking a small sip from her cup, Jordyn nodded and departed quickly.

“Besides to be rude, did you come over here for a reason?”

Lettie thought about bringing up the fact that the newly departed Jordyn had clearly been flirting with her, but refrained.

“I actually came to apologize to you,” Lettie responded, matter-of-factly.

“Well, you’re doing a hell of a job thus far.”

Collins crossed her arms over her chest, and Lettie knew she needed to act fast to salvage the moment. She took a deep breath before speaking next.

“You’re right. Can we walk, please?”

Collins mirrored her, sighing deeply, thinking the request over, eventually granting it. “Fine.”

They passed several groups of people, and Lettie gave small smiles and greetings when those she recognized waved to her, but neither of them stopped moving. Soon they were far enough from the gathering that they could still hear the festivities, but no longer see anyone else. Their walking ceased, and Lettie didn’t wait to see if Collins watched her, jumping right into the words that had been swimming around her mind.

“I was wrong, before. I shouldn’t have freaked about you putting your people first. And for that, I am sorry, I really am. But what I truly regret is the way I spoke to you. That was wrong of me, and I hope you can forgive me for doing so.” Lettie pressed her lips together hard, attempting to prevent any more words from falling out.

Collins’s eyes held hers for several seconds and then dropped, focusing on scuffing the sole of her boot against the ground. Lettie briefly considered repeating herself, questioning if she had indeed heard her the first time.

“Thank you for that,” Collins finally replied. “I must apologize as well. After I heard all of you guys talking about the bomb and coordinating a plan to wait Isaac out, I started freaking out—all I could picture was all these people dying, including you.”

Her subsequent pause was so long that Lettie thought she was done speaking, but Collins persisted.

“I couldn’t stand by and watch you and the others get yourselves killed. But that’s also no excuse for betraying your trust. I am sorry. It won’t happen again. I swear it. As for Ivan—”

“You don’t have to explain. We wouldn’t even be in this situation if I hadn’t put you in that position. You shouldn’t have to pick and choose whose side you’re on. You shouldn’t have to apologize for who you care about, and what happened to Isaac was out of either of our control. I never should have said those things to you, and I understand if—”

Lettie’s chance to finish speaking was snuffed out. Collins closed the space between them quickly. Before Lettie could exhale, their mouths were pressed together, the warmth of her lips sliding over Lettie’s. Lettie encircled Collins in her arms, as she roped her own limbs around Lettie’s neck in return, pulling her closer. The familiar smell of vanilla and honey upon the other woman’s skin made her heart quicken.

Collins broke the kiss first but didn’t pull away entirely, their faces hovering centimeters apart.

“No more apologizing. I just want to enjoy this night with you before tomorrow comes, okay?”

Lettie dipped her head in agreement, lifting one of her hands to Collins’s face, pushing a few stray hairs that had escaped her bun back behind her ear. They shared another long kiss before treading, hand in hand, back to the gathering.

The rest of the night, Collins was never far from her side, occasionally reaching out to touch Lettie’s hand or elbow when engaged in conversation with someone else. After a while, as the two were seated on a half-rotten log in front of the roaring firing, Lettie felt particularly bold, and her blood ran hot. She leaned in toward Collins and engulfed her in a kiss, maneuvering her thumb up and down her neck as their faces were locked together. When they finally pulled apart, Lettie caught several lingering stares from both OS and RCF members alike, but they either didn’t care or didn’t bother to say anything, continuing their dancing and conversations. Suddenly a heavy hand fell first over her shoulder and then Collins’s, squeezing their bodies even closer together.

“There you is! The two love birds.”

Nico inserted his giant head in between them, and then before he could be stopped, planted wet kisses on each of their cheeks. From the heat of his face and the strong odor of alcohol, it was obvious her best friend was enjoying himself fully.

“I knew it, I knew y’all’d make up.”

“Thanks for that, Nico,” Collins chuckled.

Lettie wiped the remnants of his slobber off her cheek, feigning disgust. “Guess you are a real-life love expert, huh?”

“Damn straight! Now, come dance with ya boy! I done danced with every woman out here but you two.”

Forcefully he pulled them up from their seats and twirled them flawlessly with each arm. It was perfect timing as someone switched on a song with heavy bass over the speaker, and a loud collective applause went up from the crowd, people jostling around the fire, dancing to the rap song. Lettie let Nico lead the way as he pulled them into the growing crowd and began bopping up and down, side to side. They danced in a huge group, others coming to join them, everyone thrashing to the beat, the collective group warming her body more than the fire. During the riff of a well-known alt-hip-hop melody, Nico managed to sandwich himself between them, his butt brushed up against Lettie, and though she couldn’t fully see past his huge form, she knew Collins mirrored the stance in front. They giggled and grinded in this position for a while until the song ended.

The next song had a slower melody, but the bass was just as deep, a lone male voice singing over an array of acoustic instruments, a synchronized track bellowing in the background. Nico spun them each once more and then stumbled out of the crowd, either seeking a companion or another drink, Lettie was unsure. She didn’t question it for long, as Collins grabbed her hand and placed it around her waist, their bodies swaying to the beat in sync. A quick glance around them revealed that they weren’t the only ones feeling the song, numerous couples locked in a similar trance. Tristan and Nyla and Christian and Remy were among them, each wrapped up in their own curated worlds.

Collins lightly grabbed her chin and turned Lettie’s head back to her, fingers trailing from her chin, down the length of her neck, and finally resting at the base of her collarbone. When Lettie locked eyes with her, Collins wore the same hungry look in her eyes that she’d spotted in those around them. Turning smoothly, Collins ground her ass slowly against Lettie’s groin, and in return Lettie pressed forward, letting her partner set the tempo of their movements. When Collins turned back around, Lettie inserted her hands underneath the open flaps of her jacket and rubbed them up and down her tight waist. As the song came to an end, the thought of letting the other woman go made Lettie physically uncomfortable, and Collins conveyed the same as she moved to whisper into her ear, brushing her lips against the lobe in the process.

“Take me home?”

Without hesitation, Lettie gave a simple nod, grabbed Collins’s hand, and led them out of the crowd. As they reached the outskirts of the gyrating crowd, they bumped into Nico, who had a pair of Front soldiers she’d never met hanging off his arms.

“Y’all out?”

“Hey, yeah, we’re going to head back.”

“Want me to ’scort you?” The question, directed at Collins, was slightly slurred.

“I’ve got it this time, Nico, but thanks,” Lettie interjected.

His face slowly broke out in a devilish grin. “Don’t be up too late, kids.”

They both ignored the comment, Collins rolling her eyes. Hand in hand, they descaled the hill, Lettie’s flashlight attached to her vest their only source of light until they reached downtown. An unspoken agreement between them, Lettie led the way to her apartment, the two gossiping and talking about the bonfire the entire time. When they’d finally taken the elevator up and walked through the front door, Lettie’s hands and nose were freezing, making it difficult for her to undo her vest and jacket zipper as she rushed to stoke the fading embers in the fireplace. Laughter resounded, and she looked up to find Collins entirely entertained by her struggle.

“What’s that you said before? Make sure to dress for the elements?” She wiggled her gloved hands and then removed them one finger at a time. Still giggling, she walked over to Lettie and took over with the zipper. “I’ve got you.”

“You’re too kind.”

The zipper finally dealt with, Collins began to help Lettie slide the jacket off but then stopped suddenly, Lettie’s arms still halfway trapped behind her back, entangled in the material. Collins was so close that Lettie could feel her breath against her face, and Lettie watched as stormy pupils traveled between her own eyes and lips and then back again. Lettie’s lips were partially open, instinctively ready to receive, and Collins slowly tilted her head to the side; Lettie kept completely still, waiting for her to make the first move, her skin crawling with desire. When she didn’t think she could take the buzzing tension anymore, Collins rewarded her with a quick hard kiss and then another and another. Her hands traveled to Lettie’s shoulders, and she was finally able to wrangle her hands out of the jacket, dropping it to the floor. The onslaught of kisses continued, and Lettie didn’t protest as Collins expertly maneuvered them to the couch, lips never leaving the other’s for very long. Carelessly, Lettie’s legs hit the couch, and she fell backward, landing upright on the leather cushion.

Collins wasted no time getting on top of the seated woman, positioning a leg on either side of Lettie’s lap. Lettie caressed her neck, their kisses growing more intense as the minutes ticked by. She was massaging the back of Collins’s neck, when the latter suddenly broke the kiss. There wasn’t much light, but Lettie could still see enough to make out the expanded state of her pupils, the black epicenter overtaking the usual greenish gray pool. Cool fingers tangled in the hem of Lettie’s sweater, but Collins refrained from moving further, looking at her questioningly. Lettie nodded encouragingly, and, with her partner’s consent, Collins gently lifted the woven fabric up and over Lettie’s head. Doing the same with her tank top underneath, Collins left Lettie in nothing but her gray sports bra. Lettie followed suit, pulling Collins’s layers off and boldly removing the halter bra that supported Collins.

For a moment Lettie could only admire the smooth skin across the woman’s belly and the dark brownish pink that encircled her nipples. Entranced, Lettie registered the weight of the other woman’s gaze upon her as well; Collins studied the various scars that were peppered over Lettie’s own chest and torso with growing intensity. Lettie wondered if Collins was going to say something but she refrained, instead pulling Lettie’s own bra off.

Lettie’s attempt to kiss her again was interrupted as Collins forced her back and slowly trailed her index finger over Lettie’s lips, along her neck, down the center of her chest and over her stomach, forcing Lettie to inhale sharply as the finger’s descent stopped at the top of her jeans. All previous hesitation gone, Collins kissed her fervently while undoing her belt and gave Lettie a coy smile before lifting herself off and planting herself on the floor between Lettie’s legs. Lettie’s body was disappointed at the sudden physical disconnection, but the hungry look in Collins’s eyes did well to fill the void. Lettie watched as her pants were slid off and briefs pulled down over her ankles, the garments tossed to the side. Sure of her movements, Collins trailed kisses down her stomach, the length of her thigh, and then took Lettie into her mouth ruthlessly. A soft moan escaped Lettie’s lips as Collins stroked her clit with her tongue, letting it travel the length of her. Nothing about the movements were gentle, but Lettie welcomed them happily, a long-endured buildup of desire finally alleviated.

After taking her time tasting Lettie, Collins’s pace quickened and Lettie could feel a wave start to build within her. It originated in her head, rippled down her chest through her legs and into her toes. No longer in control of her body, Lettie lifted her legs onto the edge of the couch, the space between Collins and her exposed hips nonexistent. Instinctively, Lettie scooted down toward her, pushing herself deeper into Collins mouth, who took the shift as a signal to begin quickly flicking her tongue against Lettie, the repetition of the precise movement causing Lettie to ball her hands into the couch.

“Ughhh, fuck!”

The wave climaxed and Lettie leaned into it, riding the crest to its end, her legs shaking and her head tilted to the ceiling. Her eyes were closed, but she could feel Collins as she straddled her once more.

“Breathe,” she whispered, and Lettie obeyed, trying to steady her pulse. Satisfied with herself, Collins kissed her hard, entwining their tongues so that Lettie could taste herself. When she finally felt confident in her ability to stand again, Lettie lifted Collins into her arms, causing the woman to yelp, surprised, and instinctively wrap her legs around Lettie’s waist. Lettie waddled them into the bedroom, careful not to trip on anything. When they finally reached the bed, Lettie motioned for her to stand and Collins abided, quickly shedding her remaining clothing. Taking up a seated position on the edge of the bed, Collins straddled her once more, the heat between their bodies engulfing Lettie.

Lettie pulled her head away and maneuvered herself down to Collins’s breast. Taking one of her nipples into her mouth, Lettie used her free hand to play with the other. Their engorged shape turned her on even more, increasing the rate by which she sucked and flicked, and Collins moaned, putting a voice to their joint pleasure. Once Lettie’d sufficiently tasted both nipples, she shimmied their bodies back toward the head of the bed and moved to turn Collins over, but Collins resisted, wrapping one of her legs around Lettie’s, preventing the other from taking the top position. Instead, she opened her thighs and Lettie watched as Collins took possession of Lettie’s index finger, slid it into her mouth, suckled it, and then slid it between her thighs.

“I need you to touch me, please, now.”

Complying, Lettie did not waste another moment as she stroked Collins’s clit with her fingers, unsure if it was Collins’s spit or the woman’s own natural lubricant that coated Lettie’s hand. Lettie expertly maneuvered her hand, inserting two, then three fingers into Collins, the subsequent deep moan in her ear confirming the correct placement of her touch. Using her other arm to balance them, Lettie moved in and out faster and faster, her thighs burning from the controlled movement. She peppered Collins’s neck with wet kisses as her hand thrusted into her. Moans that were barely audible evolved into thunderous vocals when suddenly, Collins dug her nails into Lettie’s back and her body clenched around Lettie’s hand, a wave erupting around her fingers. Lettie kept her hand in place, letting her partner coast, and then removed it carefully, wiping it on the blanket next to them.

Collins’s head lay in the nook of Lettie’s neck, giving her easy access to her collarbone, and Lettie dotted it with light kisses, not wanting to overstimulate Collins in her current state. After several moments, they burrowed themselves under the heavy comforter and Collins shimmied between Lettie’s arms, her back facing the taller woman’s front. Lettie used her free hand to trace circles on her back and Collins hummed lightly, content with the gentle touch. Her breathing eventually slowed, and for a moment Lettie believed the other woman had fallen asleep until Collins suddenly began to talk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of that.”

Lettie chuckled into the back of her neck. “You aren’t the only one. But do tell. Was it everything you dreamt of?”

“And more. I don’t think I’ve ever…ya know.”

Lettie knew that if she could see Collins’s face, it would have been covered in a red tinge. “Squirted,” she volunteered, finishing the sentence.

“Mhmm.”

“Well, you know what I think?”

“Do tell.”

The three little words almost left her mouth, but Lettie stopped them at the last second, remembering that in less than twelve hours, Collins would be gone, a planet away, and Lettie would be here, left behind. Recovering from the hesitation, she responded, kissing the back of Collins’s neck.

“I think I’m ready for round two.”

Immediately, Collins turned around to face her, pulling Lettie’s arm tighter around her. She wore a devilish grin, and her lips were pursed.

“Is that so?”

***

The next morning, Lettie awoke to the sounds of Max whining at the door. She rolled over to the other side of the bed and found the space where Collins had lain hours ago empty and cold.

Her stomach pitched slightly at the feeling of déjà vu, and Lettie grabbed one of the pillows and placed it over her face, letting out a dramatic moan. After that was taken care of, she paced through the living room and groaned at the blaze of sunlight that assaulted her from the windows. Max continued to whine, and Lettie realized that she had selfishly forgotten to let the sweet pup out last night and nature beckoned.

Lettie slid the balcony door open and the shepherd sprinted out the door and onto the withered grass. Satisfied, Max sniffed around the elevated lawn, clearly in no hurry to return, and Lettie left the door cracked. Falling into the plethora of cushions on the couch, she stared at her discarded clothing strewn along the floor, Collins having collected her own this morning. Lettie tried not to be, but she leaned her head back against the couch, irritated about the repeated ghost act. The grumble of her stomach reminded her of the scheduled formation at breakfast this morning, and Lettie cursed, looking at her watch; the meal had started forty minutes ago. Calling Max in, Lettie closed the sliding door and raced into her room, throwing on jeans and a black fitted long sleeve. Hurriedly, she buttoned up her bomber jacket over the layers and then strapped her vest on, finishing off the fit with a black knit beanie. If she hurried, she could get to the train tracks before the speeches began and hopefully avoid any scorn over her tardiness.

Lettie’s arrival at the Depot was hastened by the utilization of a shortcut through the back entrance of the railroad yard. A team of sentries stationed at the back of the platform spotted her and let her through, not questioning the middle Valentine’s discreet arrival out loud. Her mom and Junior were busy mingling with a group of RCF officers, and Lettie took advantage of the distraction, sliding onto the stage and into position next to Christian. He, of course, noticed her intrusion immediately and excused himself from another conversation.

“Where the hell have you been? You missed breakfast this morning and Mom’s in a mood.”

“Shit,” Lettie grunted under her breath.

“She had some business to finish,” a voice next to them interjected, and Lettie recognized Nico’s teasing tone instantly. There was no time to correct him as her mother took the dais, the soldiers flanking her taking up position at the bottom and sides of the stage. A wave of silence rolled over the crowd, and Junior took up position between Malachi and herself, giving his sister a silent yet overt once-over as he did, clearly not pleased by her rushed appearance. Their mother delivered a few quick words and was then joined on stage by Koenig, who seemed to appear out of thin air, his large group of officers following him onto the stage. Lettie tried not to make it obvious, but she strained her neck and let her eyes dart back and forth over the company, unable to find the face that mattered most. Upon a third pass, Lettie finally thought she’d picked out Collins’s uniform in the sea of white and gray, when the crowd started to cheer, and Koenig and his force began to march off the stage and onto the awaiting train carts. Discarding decorum, Lettie raced down the steps of the stage and found a spot among the lingering sentries who lined the platform, their responsibility either to ensure the crowd did not step onto the loading area or that all RCF members made it onto the train.

One of the sentries closest to Lettie began to give her shit about her presence on the platform, but she shot him a challenging glare and he ceased immediately. As the trains pulled out of the station, Lettie was close enough that the smoky exhaust burned her eyes and nostrils. Eagerly, she scanned every window twice over. Unthinking, Lettie raced alongside the train as it gained speed, keeping pace until she was almost out of platform. A hand yanked Lettie’s arm tightly, but she didn’t look back, staring after the last cart until it was too far for her vision to discern anything but blurs.

“Lettie! Hey, look at me.”

Immediately recognizable, Lettie didn’t have to turn to know it was Christian again, only this time, all traces of indignation were gone from his voice, raw concern filling the space.

She rubbed her eyes hard and let out a rough sigh before acknowledging him. “Sorry. I just…I thought…”

“I know.” He nodded his head at the ground. “I know.”

Lettie bit her bottom lip hard. She turned toward him, hands enclosed around the back of her neck, and he met her the rest of the way, closing her up within his torso. Every part of Lettie wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come, the sealed flood gates causing a pain to well up in her neck and throat. Instead, she breathed deeply into his puffer jacket, her head stopping below his shoulder level. A few moments passed like that before the pain in her throat dissipated and Lettie lifted her head, meeting his eyes, his gaze full of understanding.

It was then that her own selfishness hit her. In her own moment of weakness, Lettie’d forgotten that Christian had lost someone too.

“How are you?”

“It’s what’s best for everyone. It’s what’s best for OS.” He pushed his curls back, exasperated. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself all morning. Figured if I said it out loud, it’d make me feel less crappy inside.”

“Is it working?”

“Nope. But I thought if I shared it with you, it might at least work for one of us.” He raised his hands in front of his chest in a sign of resignation.

A dry chuckle escaped from her, moved by the monumentality of her brother’s words.

Most of the yard had emptied, a few groups of people continuing to conversate and make the most of the breather in between their respective shifts and duties.

“We’ll be okay.” He stated the words in a way that confirmed they were a lie, one that he didn’t even believe himself. He shoved his hands in his pockets, signaling he was done talking and like that, the moment was gone, their focus turned toward moving forward.

Slowly, Lettie walked him all the way back to the theater, passing her own street, and then doubled back, in no rush to go back to her empty apartment.

When she finally exited the elevator onto her floor, Lettie trudged the short distance down the corridor and paused in front of the door at the end of the hall.

The apartment door was slightly ajar, the natural light from inside casting a weird shadow in the hallway. If that wasn’t worrying enough, Lettie took a moment longer to examine the door closer, realizing there were scrapes around the lock and seal; whoever was behind the break-in was clearly not concerned about being found out and was very much armed.

Without hesitation, Lettie pulled her pistol from its holster, positioning the weapon up and close to her, in case the intruder managed to get the drop on her and attempted to disarm her. Making sure to avoid the door squeaking, Lettie opened it just enough to allow her entry into the apartment and left it the way she’d found it, keeping the option of a speedy escape open. A feeling of déjà vu sparked as she quietly but swiftly checked all the rooms in the apartment, marking each as clear. The actual apartment empty, Lettie stumbled upon the balcony door, which had also been left ajar. The opening explained why Max was nowhere to be found, Lettie thought to herself.

The sun was hidden behind the clouds and didn’t provide a ton of light to see by, snow also preventing a clear view of the entire exterior area. Gun at attention, Lettie followed a set of paw prints and footprints that led around the side of the balcony. Climbing the small set of concrete steps that led to the roof area, Lettie finally spotted the intruder. As discreetly as she could and with the aid of the fresh snow dampening her footsteps, Lettie positioned herself about ten feet away from the intruder when Max finally became aware of her presence and stood at attention, galloping over. Lettie ignored her, gun trained on the individual turned away from her.

“Don’t move. Put your hands where I can see them.”

The hooded figure did as commanded but did not turn around, making it impossible to make out if they were armed or not.

“Turn around slowly or I will—”

Before Lettie could continue further, the trespasser turned toward her, revealing their face.

Lettie dropped her weapon to her side immediately, disbelief flooding over her.

“Surprise.” Hands still in the air, Collins’s eyes were wide, and she let out a shaky chuckle. “I have to admit, this was not how I pictured this playing out in my head.”

“What the hell?”

Lettie resecured her pistol in its holster and snow crunched under her boots as she closed the space between them. Her body moved instinctively as her hands grabbed Collins’s face and Lettie kissed her hard, not letting up until rationale returned to the forefront of her thoughts.

“What are you doing here? I could have killed you!” Lettie exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “I don’t understand, you’re supposed to be on the train.” That last part was directed more to herself than at Collins, Lettie’s mind still unable to believe what her eyes were seeing.

“I promise I’ll explain everything, but do you think we could talk inside?” Collins rubbed her bare hands up and down her arms, and it was then that Lettie realized part of the reason she hadn’t recognized her figure instantly was the captain’s complete lack of a uniform. Collins still wore her same grayish brown combat boots, but her usual white-gray garb was gone, replaced by snug khaki cargo pants and a green pullover hoodie. Aside from a brown scarf around her neck, she wore few layers.

“I only meant to come out here to let Max pee and then she ran up here. I thought we’d be back inside by the time you got home.”

In that moment, Lettie found it difficult to make sense of the words that were coming out of her mouth, so she simply nodded, leading the way back into the apartment. A heavy urge to no longer be standing overtook her and Lettie plopped into one of the living room armchairs, waiting for Collins to do the same. But instead, the other woman remained standing in the walkway, her arms crossed, her fingers beating rapidly against her forearm.

“Umm, so I had this whole speech planned out,” she chuckled dryly to herself, her eyes darting from space to space, “but of course, it seems to have escaped me. So, I guess I’ll come right out and say it.” Collins paused, collecting her thoughts, and then shook her hands, clearly not pleased with the result. “Remember back when we first met, and I told you before that everyone’s focus should be on surviving and living to see another day?”

Lettie didn’t have to rack her brain for long; everything Collins had ever spoken to her was very much ingrained into her mind. Lettie nodded slowly, unsure of what Collins was getting at.

“Last night I couldn’t even sleep because my mind was so fried thinking about you and the thought of leaving you.” A sound between a scoff and a laugh escaped her mouth. “I hate to say it out loud, but the thought literally made my stomach ache. That’s when I realized I’m tired of getting through the day just to get through it, ya know? Life, even a post-Impact one, should be about more than just surviving.”

Lettie’s body was rigid as she hung onto every word, Collins’s fingers no longer tapping, but stuffed in her back pockets.

“I want that more to be with you. I want more days with you, Lettie.”

As Lettie stared, her immediate response was to relieve the building pressure in her chest with a sarcastic joke, but she held fast from doing so, realizing the effect her next words could have. Instead, Lettie did the only other thing that made sense. Calmly, she crossed the room toward Collins, pulled the shorter woman into her chest and held her as tight as she could without hurting her. Lettie nuzzled her nose into Collins’s neck and took a deep breath, the smell overtaking her nostrils. Tracing Collins’s jawline with her lips, they both leaned into each other as their lips met, confidently coming to their own agreement. Lettie pulled away from her, hoping that the intensity of her feelings for the woman in front of her had been conveyed through her lips—and then suddenly realizing that she needed to ensure they had, Lettie spoke.

“I love you, Michelle.”

The words rolled off her tongue naturally, and Lettie felt as if an invisible chain had been loosened from around her. There was no fear, no uncertainty, no hesitation, no regret, and she found herself exhaling as they filled the space between them.

“I love you too.” A small smile played across Collins’s full lips, and the reciprocated proclamation loosened something in Lettie.

Familiar arms still wrapped around her neck, Lettie slid her hands from Collins’s waist and up her back, right hand traveling over the slender, lightly freckled neck. When she reached Collins’s face, Lettie brushed her thumb over her lover’s bottom lip, her eyes traveling between the flushed tender skin and Collins’s eyes, the latter watching her intently, calling to her.

They spent the next several hours doing the only thing that made sense given everything that had passed that day: each of them took turns melting into the woman who they’d thought had slipped through their fingers. Where the night before had been racing and arduous, hands gripping skin in competition with the expiration of time, these hours were filled with a different kind of longing, one expressed through purposeful touches and dawdling exchanges.

“So, guess this means you’re kind of stuck with me, huh,” Lettie poked, turning over onto her back, completely spent.

A snort escaped Collins, helplessly. “Something like that.”

“Say it again?”

The ambient light from the candles darkened her green eyes more than usual, and Collins chuckled, the sound like honey. Smirking, she gave in.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, Leticia Valentine.”

Lettie enveloped her in another quick kiss and then pulled back. Silently, Collins trailed her index finger over her collarbone, tracing a path down her chest, stopping right below Lettie’s left breast, her fingers gently playing over the raised remnants of the scar there. The exploration continued down Lettie’s torso, dotting a path along several scars of varying size and shape, finally stopping at her waist, where the largest of the scars sat on the right side of her stomach. The indentation was about five inches long and the only one not combat related. It didn’t take much to make out the question in Collins’s eyes.

“Emergency appendix and partial intestine removal five years back; ruptured them in a particularly nasty motorcycle accident.”

Collins scooted down the bed and rubbed her index finger over the mark again, inspecting it closer.

“Whoever did it, did a hell of a job, very minimal scarring.” She maneuvered back up to Lettie and fixed her with a hard but amused glare. “It clearly didn’t faze you though, still riding like a mad woman.”

“I’m sure Luthor would appreciate your commendation of his handiwork, Doctor. You sound just like him; he wasn’t too pleased when I got back on a bike either.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It was entirely intended as one. Your turn.” Lettie smirked at her and took Collins’s arm, sliding her fingers along her palm and up her forearm. She stopped at a scattering of several pinpricks at the base of Collins’s left elbow. Though most of the marks had partially faded, almost blending in with her creamy olive skin, some were still visible, clearly more recent than the others. Lettie hadn’t noticed them the previous times they’d lain together, and with the constant need for winter layers, they had eluded her until now.

“What happened here?”

When Lettie looked up at her face, awaiting an answer, Collins’s focus was no longer on the woman next to her but on some distant memory. When her gaze finally did return to meet Lettie’s own, Collins’s expression was unreadable, but Lettie didn’t pry.

“It’s um…I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Lettie cut her off, shaking her head. The tremor in Collins’s voice conveyed that Lettie was on what she assumed was a short list of people who’d ever been allowed to touch the scars. Without thinking, Lettie pulled the affected arm toward her and gently kissed the space between Collins’s bicep and forearm. Lettie’s lips were allowed to do as they pleased, eventually traveling up to Collins’s shoulder, where she left a particularly wet kiss. Several moments of silence passed as Lettie played with strands of long curly hair, Collins’s braid having come undone, and she stared at her.

“What are you thinking about?” Lettie inquired, finally breaking the silence.

“Honestly? What I’m going to do once Ivan finds out that me and sixty other members of his militia have abandoned ship.”

Lettie’s hand froze, a strand of the dark brown tresses held in midair. “I’m sorry—sixty?”

“Indeed, it was just a few of us at first, but then word started to get around and at the last minute, a bunch more joined. I guess a lot of us had something worth staying for.”

Collins interlocked her fingers with Lettie’s and brushed her thumb over the back of her hand.

“Well, that’s all grand and fine, but I think you’re forgetting one thing.”

Her eyes fluttered, trying to guess at the other woman’s meaning. “What’s that?”

“You mean what we’re going to do. You’re not alone in this, okay? We are going to figure this out.”

Lettie waited for her words to be acknowledged and Collins complied, letting out an audible sigh of relief. “I know.”

“Good. And as for Koenig, let’s not forget he is currently traveling intergalactically—that buys us some time. I think first thing in the morning, I go to my mom and lay everything on the table. It’ll take some time, but I think I can make her see sense.”

“Mmm, I think you mean we will make her see sense.”

Lettie rolled her eyes and laughed at the correction. “You are right, we.”

Lettie’s legs opened up naturally to Collins, as she positioned one of her legs in between Lettie’s own. Now trapped underneath Collins’s comfortable weight, Lettie wrapped her arms around the woman, trailing her fingers down her smooth back. Collins kissed her lips, licking the bottom one before taking it into her mouth and sucking slightly. When she pulled away, the look in her eyes caused a wave of heat to ripple over Lettie’s skin.

“As much as I’m looking forward to revealing to the head of one of the most powerful groups left on Earth that I’ve fallen insanely in love with her daughter and gone AWOL, I do have a few things in mind that I’d like to do before that time comes.”

“Please, do tell.”

“I think I could show you better.”

Chapter
11

Two things occurred to Lettie upon awaking the next morning. The first was triggered by a sudden episode of dry coughing that didn’t cease for several seconds. She searched the nightstand for her canteen and finally found it, unspinning the cap and allowing the lukewarm water to travel down her throat, moisturizing the desert-like passage. When the coughing stopped, the second realization came in the fact that Lettie was once again the only one in the bed; she didn’t have to leave the room to know that she was alone in the apartment as well, Max her lone companion. Lettie let her head hang down between her knees, back arched. It was only once she moved to stand that she noticed a folded piece of paper on top of her cluttered nightstand. Lettie opened it, hoping for some insight into Collins’s absence.

Good morning beautiful,

Meet me at the cathedral at 9.

Love,

Michelle

Not surprisingly, the handwriting was small and neat, every letter stacked at equal distance and height. Lettie glimpsed at her watch and it read 8:30, giving her just enough time to get dressed and arrive only a few minutes late. Throwing her usual gear on, Lettie didn’t bother taking her rifle from its case, instead settling for just her pistol.

The snow had lightened up a bit that day, and for the first time in a while, the sun shone brightly in the sky. Traversing through several shortcuts, it didn’t take her long to reach the looming cathedral, the translucent clouds and sun acting as a personal backdrop to the building. The heavy wooden doors thudded closed behind her as she walked through the small dusty lobby area and into the main housing of the cathedral. As she made her way from room to room, the ceiling transformed from a cramped, dull thing to the massive blazing fortress that still amazed her every time she witnessed it. Lettie’s steps faltered as she crossed the threshold.

Standing behind the priest’s dais, as if he belonged there and Lettie was the one intruding, stood Lydecker. Even with the distance, Lettie recognized the pristine color of his uniform immediately and the clearly dyed patch of blond hair slicked down perfectly. He slowly looked up from the gallant podium and dropped a volume of hymns on the floor, the sound echoing loudly throughout the sanctuary.

Instinctively, Lettie’s hand was on her pistol, removing it from the holster and holding it steady, trained on the general.

“Where is Collins?” she gritted angerly, through clenched teeth, her mood immediately teetering from anticipation to rage and something else that made her spine tingle.

Unbothered by the show of force, Lydecker descaled the steps down from the dais two at a time and stopped once he was floor level with her.

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin, feigning genuine thought. “By now I’m sure she’s long gone. She probably already caught her ride out of this slum you call a city.”

“Bullshit.” Lettie strode a few steps toward him, cocking the gun, a bullet sliding into the chamber. She aimed it directly at his forehead. “You’re lying.”

Lydecker smiled and raised his hands a few inches above his head, mockingly. “Why would I lie to you? What good would that do for me? Captain Collins has made the intelligent decision of choosing where her loyalties lie, though I’m sure she made a lasting impression on yourself before doing so. Beautiful woman, I cannot blame you.”

His words struck something deep in her, though Lettie tried her best not to let them get to her and cloud her judgment. Even so, his smug grin grew larger as Lydecker sensed the doubt he’d planted in her head, the questioning look in her eye apparent. Lettie wanted to wipe it off his damn face, but she knew that if she killed him, it would be near impossible to find out what he knew about Collins. By the time Lettie’d rationalized the situation, Lydecker was only a few feet away from her, having slowly made his way down the aisle. Nonetheless, she stood her ground, unyielding, knowing that if he did try anything, she’d shoot first and ask questions later. As Lettie tried to build her wall back up and think strategically, he continued prattling.

“You know, I didn’t think there would be anything better than getting to kill Regina Valentine’s only daughter, but I was wrong. I also get to witness that bleeding heart break in two as you realize the woman you’ve come to care about was playing you this whole time.”

Something in her snapped at his words and her index finger slid over the trigger. As Lettie was about to squeeze, the sound of boots squeaked behind her. She turned in time to see the huge figure of another Front soldier sprinting toward her. The assailant knocked her to the ground, but not before Lettie let off a shot, a second and third bang echoing the first. Shaking off the force with which they’d struck the ground, Lettie regained focus, ready for a fight, but she soon realized the body on top of her lay still. Shimmying from underneath the man’s bulk, Lettie noticed that blood oozed from his head, the bullet having connected with his skull, killing him instantly. Lettie attempted to plant her left arm down to provide a base for getting up, but a sharp intense pain shot through the side of her chest, stopping her. Grunting, she cradled the arm into her chest as she located the first bullet hole that had torn into her now damaged vest. Next to it a steady flow of blood trickled out from where a second bullet had burrowed itself into her exposed shoulder.

Before Lettie could think on the wound a moment longer, an arm was thrown around her neck and Lydecker pulled her up from the ground. She didn’t hesitate as he tried to tighten the neck lock, using the upward momentum to smash her head up and back into his face. The arm dropped away from her, freeing her, and her gaze flitted around the corpse on the floor, looking frantically for her gun. As Lettie spotted where it had slid under one of the pews, Lydecker recovered, and Lettie was able to put just enough distance between them that they were now facing each other. Unfortunately, her gun was just far enough that she couldn’t keep him in her sight and grab the lost weapon at the same time.

The towering man’s previously immaculate white uniform was now covered in blood, both from Lettie’s shoulder and his own nose, a steady stream pouring from both nostrils; the weird angle of his bridge confirmed that she’d broken his nose. Even so, the wound didn’t seem to slow him down, as he flashed a maniacal smile at her, blood flowing over his mouth and chin. The pain in her shoulder made every movement agonizing, and Lettie knew that if she had any chance of walking away from this, she had to even the odds.

Any time to recover dissipated as Lydecker threw a punch to her face, which Lettie dodged and countered with several quick jabs to his torso. She was faster than his tall frame and managed to land two consecutive knees to the same ribs. The win was fleeting as he recovered quickly and landed his own massive kick to her chest, the air escaping from her lungs. His victim briefly stunned, Lydecker took advantage of the moment, gaining her back again, and pulled her up from where she knelt. This time, though, Lettie was able to get one hand in between his choke hold around her neck, preventing Lydecker from tightening his grip. Locked in a stalemate, their bodies resembled a hostile backward bear hug. With his chest to her back, suddenly an idea manifested, and Lettie lifted her leg, using her free arm to pull the blade housed inside her boot free. The switchblade sprung free, and Lettie jarred it as hard as her injured arm could muster into his ribs. The action earned a loud roar from him, but Lydecker held his grip strong; as she attempted to pull the blade out and go in for a second attack, the arm that was smashing her face loosened and Lydecker spun her around, delivering a hook to her temple so fast, Lettie barely registered it. She also hadn’t registered that he’d removed the blade from his own body until a line of fire ripped through her thigh. Lettie’s vision was hazy as he threw her body hard against one of the pews. She half crawled, half limped across the stone floor in the other direction, attempting to put space between them, but only got as far as the closest wall before he delivered another kick to her stomach and Lettie collapsed, unmoving.

Every part of her body felt on fire and Lettie found that her limbs refused to move the way she wanted them to. As Lettie watched Lydecker’s body tower over her, she didn’t have the drive to attempt another retreat. Instead, she fought back meagerly as he rolled her over onto her back like a doll and climbed on top of her, his legs straddling her waist. All she could do was watch as Lydecker held the bloody knife in front of her face, brushing the edge carefully over her chin, along her neck, and down her chest. Losing focus, Lettie recalled last night, the feel of Collins touching those same spots only several hours ago, and shuddered at the revulsion of the man’s mimicking actions.

“It’s a shame, for such a beautiful woman to go to waste like this.”

Lettie could feel him slide one of his legs into her crotch area as he gloated. “I could’ve shown you both what you’re missing out on.”

Looking him dead in the eyes, Lettie spat in his face.

Lydecker didn’t bother wiping it away, aware he had the upper hand.

“Goodbye, Leticia.”

Her vision wavered in and out as Lydecker moved downward to stab the blade into the base of her throat. Gathering her last bit of energy, she threw her lone good arm against his, creating a barrier between the knife and herself. He forced more of his body weight onto the knife and Lettie begrudgingly did the last thing she could think of to prevent him from impaling her. Without hesitation, Lettie enclosed her hand around the sharp blade and pushed against it and him, a pool of her blood immediately dripping down the blade. Lettie groaned under both Lydecker’s weight on her shoulder and the pain at the blade cutting into the flesh of her hand.

When she didn’t think she could resist any longer, a loud boom reverberated through the church, rocking the ground they lay on. The sound caused Lydecker to jerk his head up toward the ceiling long enough for Lettie to buck him up a few inches and slam her knee into his groin. Immediately, he moaned in agony, the blade clattering to the floor next to her head, a small bow-tied gift seemingly dropped by one of the chapel’s saints from the heavens above.

Moving on autopilot, she picked up the knife from the floor with her good arm and jabbed it into Lydecker’s neck as hard as possible, the flesh significantly more resistant than she’d anticipated. But the blow did the trick.

Lydecker attempted to plug the wound with his hands, in vain, looking between her and the blood on his hands, surprised by the turn of events. Lettie watched him bleed out, needing to be sure of the finality of the blow. She wasn’t convinced of his snuffed mortality until his body slumped over on its side, give a few involuntary twitches that made her jump, and then go still.

“Kiss my ass, you sick fuck,” Lettie croaked, her vocal cords severely sore from being strangled.

Another loud boom tore her attention away from the fleeting win. Lettie was forced to cover her ears and close her eyes as the windows of the church exploded, spraying glass everywhere. Dust stung her eyes as she opened them again, only to find the roof of the cathedral near the dais had begun to cave in, mountains of stone bricks dropping everywhere. Impulsively, Lettie trotted toward the entrance, unable to break out into a full run, the gash in her leg losing blood at an alarming rate, her entire upper thigh soaked. The noise of the building coming down was a constant roar, the sound the only thing audible over her own ragged breathing.

As she crossed the threshold into the lobby, another boom sounded in front of Lettie, the fallout producing a gust of wind that threw her backward, and everything went black.

Part
3

Chapter
12

Memories from the space between the darkness and her waking up were scarce; what Lettie recalled most was the feeling of eyelids heavy as cinder blocks, both her mind and body trying to force them open, to no avail, gates clanging shut repeatedly. She’d about reached her threshold after another halfhearted attempt, expecting the same result, and was dazed when beams of fluorescent light shone bright, splitting her skull. Trying to quell the blinding sensation, Lettie glanced at her torso only to realize she was tucked tightly into a bed that wasn’t hers and several tubes protruded out of her right arm. Sure her eyes were playing tricks on her, Lettie froze when she spotted Nico slumped in a chair catty-corner from where she lay, his head propped up on his hand, eyes closing and opening, fighting a different weight.

“Ni…Nico.” The words were no more than a faint croak, her voice hoarse.

Too quickly for her groggy eyes to register and defying his large stature, Nico shot out of the chair and hovered over her.

“Hey, hey. You hearin’ me aight?”

Lettie’s response was not delivered as quickly as he’d preferred, so he repeated himself twice more.

“Yeah, I can hear you.”

Placing her hands palm down on the bed, Lettie attempted to haul herself up into a sitting position and regretted doing so immediately. Little pinpricks of fire shot through her head and down her arms. The pain culminated in her abdomen, and Lettie was momentarily torn between blacking out and vomiting. Through it all, a knob of tightness throbbed at the back of her thigh, though it had nothing on the initial shock.

Nico must have deciphered the look on her face because his eyes darted between Lettie and an empty pail next to the bed in anticipation of either catching her or catching her bile. Riskily, he chose the former and took her hand, gently helping her lay back down.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” Lettie groaned.

“Well, technically it was a whole damn building, but close.”

The words pulled her back to the moments before she passed out, running from the impending roof toppling around her after having killed a man.

“Lydecker,” Lettie started. “He was in the church.”

“We found his body. Y’all really went in on one ’nother.”

The newly deceased general’s words echoed in her head, and Lettie fought the urge to sit up again.

“Nic, he said all these things about Collins. Has anyone seen her?”

Although fleeting, a grimace crossed his face, the look dissipating before she could be sure it had even occurred. Replacing it was something Lettie could only describe as pity, his dark brown eyes unable to meet her own.

“I should holla for Luthor. He’ll wanna be knowin’ you’re awake.”

Not allowing any time for Lettie to utter a protest, Nico crossed the room, disappearing into the hallway. The door closed behind him, but not before she caught a glimpse of the armed guard that stood post outside, probably her mom’s doing.

Studying the room for the first time, the realization that Lettie was its sole occupant confused her further, such a luxury rare in the bustling clinic. Aside from the adjustable bed she lay in, a plain ladder-back chair, little table with wheels, and hand sink protruding from the far wall were the only furniture in the room. Several machines beeped in union behind Lettie’s head in addition to a clock whose face was shattered. Fluorescent lights highlighted the eggshell white ceiling and walls, the only decoration in the room a crooked painting of a random landscape that Lettie didn’t recognize.

Drawing her attention, Luthor entered abruptly, trailed by Nico and Malachi, all of whom looked exhausted, Luthor especially, a grim expression painted on his face. As the doctor approached her bedside, the signs of fatigue were even more blatant. His usually bare jawline was peppered with the beginnings of a patchy dark beard and the bags underneath his eyes were so prominent Lettie could’ve traced them perfectly with her fingertip. Even so, when Luthor saw that she was awake, a broad, albeit tired, smile played across his lips.

“Welcome back, young blood.”

Immediately, he busied himself with studying the monitors next to her, checking numbers, tubes, buttons, and only paused to pull a chart out of thin air, briefly asking her how she felt, and then continued jotting notes on the clipboard as he went. After going through the motions of checking her mouth, eyes, and ears, finally appeased that Lettie was indeed alive, Luthor set the clipboard down and Nico and Malachi took that as an invitation to crowd in closer, each man taking up stance around her small cot.

Unable to hold back any longer, Lettie broke the silence first, not sure what to make of the hard stares directed at her.

“I’ve let you do your checks, now I want answers. What’s going on?”

Though she succeeded in keeping her voice even, Lettie was taken aback when Luthor turned to the others.

“Can we have the room?”

They complied quickly with his cryptic request. As Nico shut the door behind him, he gave his friend a solemn stare, leaving her and Luthor alone. The multitude of machines orchestrated various noises behind them as Luthor took a seat next to Lettie on the bed, one leg on, the other dangling onto the floor.

“The Front, Commander Koenig, they bombed the city.”

Her response was not immediate, trying to make sense of what he’d just said.

“That’s the sound I heard in the church…bombs?”

He nodded his head. “Crazy enough, I think the detonation and subsequent collapse saved your life. When we found you in the rubble, you were pinned under a beam, your legs stuck.”

He pointed to her injured leg.

“The pressure from the beam staunched the blood flow from your leg. That wound was deep enough that without the pressure, you probably would have bled out before we could’ve found you. You were very lucky.”

“Think it was the big guy upstairs looking out for me?”

“That or someone a little closer to home.”

Luthor’s faith had always baffled Lettie; a doctor who healed people with science and medicine every day, yet who kept an unwavering conviction in things he could not see. She’d posed the question to him in the past, but his answer was always the same: “God is good.”

“How many casualties?” Lettie voiced the question that’d been on her tongue since he’d put a name to the calamity.

Luthor’s mouth fell into a hard line. “There are still bodies being uncovered, but so far about 526.”

She chided herself for it but released a small sigh of relief at his response. Isaac and the Hoodou’s loss of more than 10,000 people to the same fate rang fresh.

Luthor didn’t judge her for her outward display of relief, instead continuing. “It could have been worse,” he said, mirroring her own thoughts out loud. “The bombings only lasted for a few minutes before the ships retreated.”

“Retreated? What do you mean? Why would they retreat?”

“We have a few theories, but that’s not what’s important right now.”

Frustrated, Lettie blew through her nose heavily and grimaced through the onslaught of pain, managing to prop herself up against the pillows.

“Not important? They attacked our city, our people! A direct violation of the treaty.”

Luthor’s voice was exasperated when he spoke again, but he remained calm, nonetheless. “Malachi is heading our initial response teams. They’ll make sure any remaining RCF members are apprehended and taken into custody. Jalicia is monitoring air space in case their ships regroup to attack.”

Her brow furrowed at the mention of her brother’s second-in-command. “Jalicia? Why isn’t Christian doing that?” Lettie challenged, trying to control her tone, her patience wearing thin.

“Christian’s been taken captive by the Front. No one has seen him since the morning of the bombings, but surveillance caught an unknown group in OS uniforms fleeing the city in one of our Humvees. We think he was with them.”

Lettie found it nearly impossible to let him finish his sentence before interjecting. “Who’s been sent out to find him?”

“We can’t risk sending out any more people just yet.”

“This is ridiculous. I…I need to speak with my mom now.” Lettie’s attempt to move her legs toward the opposite edge of the bed was met with a chain of excruciating pain. That and the tone that Luthor used to deliver her name kept her rooted in the bed, the knit cover falling halfway off her body.

“Leticia.”

Turning toward him, her body froze, unconsciously holding her breath. Several moments passed as realization dawned at why the expression he wore had such a chilling effect on her. It was the same look of controlled agony Lettie’d seen him bear in the past. When he was forced to give a patient’s family news of their untimely loss.

“Regina is dead, Lettie.”

The roaring of her heart was so loud that even though they were a mere six inches apart and alone in the room, Lettie could barely hear her own voice.

“What?” she choked out.

“She’s gone. She died in one of the blasts.”

Lettie’s fingers tingled, and she flexed her hands open and closed several times to try to get them to stop.

“Are you sure? Maybe she’s with Christian.”

Her ears rang, growing warm, and a knot began to form in the back of her throat. Lettie barely registered the movement as Luthor grabbed her uninjured hand and squeezed, the tingling getting worse and spreading up her arms.

“I’m positive. I saw her…I…I identified the body myself.” Luthor spoke the next words so quietly that Lettie had to strain to hear him over her own internal roar. “She died on impact. It was quick, she didn’t suffer.”

And just like that, the swell of tears held behind her eyes broke free, flooding her face and then the front of her shirt. Lettie cried so much that she worried the room would flood and swallow Luthor and her up, overtaking every inch of their bodies until they could no longer breathe. Instead, it was only she who struggled to inhale, tears evolving into choked sobs, gasping for air between each set. Eventually, enough time had passed that when Luthor had to escape to attend to his other patients, his shoulder was replaced by Nico’s, the familiar scent filling the spaces between her sobs. And for the first time that Lettie could recall in a long time, she let her grief swallow her whole, leaning into the anguish freely.

***

A moment of déjà vu overcame Lettie as she awoke to find herself once again snugly tucked into bed. The room’s light blue curtains had been drawn wide, the few rays of sunlight shining brightly into her eyes; Lettie grimaced and felt the pull of tightness upon her face, her eyes slightly swollen. Someone had also changed her clothes and bedding, though she couldn’t recall who or when. Once again, Nico lounged in the chair closest to her, the little rickety wooden chair somehow managing his weight.

“How you holdin’ up?” he questioned, shuffling the chair forward, closer to her side.

“How do you think?” The words came out harsher than she’d meant, and Lettie moved to apologize when her eyes caught sight of the table stand next to them. The stand was completely vacant except for one of those little plastic cups of water and a simple white envelope. Lettie’s name was scrawled in beautiful cursive across the front, and she froze, recognizing the handwriting immediately.

“Imma get you some mo’ water,” Nico offered, ignoring her already full cup.

Lettie hardly registered the door click behind him as she slowly lifted herself into a sitting position, her body groaning in response to the movement. Trying to settle the shakiness of her hands, Lettie gripped the letter firmly, staring at it hard. She knew that if she concentrated too deeply on the fact that its creator was now gone, the letter would remain unopened, so she forced herself to tear the fold, pretending it contained any other report.

There was only one sheet of paper inside and Lettie removed it, careful not to rip the dainty material.

My Dearest Leticia,

If you are reading this then that means I am no longer with you and for that, I am so sorry. When my father left my mother and she died years later, I promised myself I would never let my own children experience that same pain. I was young and realize now it was a foolish promise to make, to live forever, but nonetheless, here we are.

I want you to know that everything I ever did, I did for you kids. I know it may not have seemed like it all the time, especially after your father died, but please know I only ever wanted what was best for you. I hope that one day, maybe when you have children of your own, you will see this and understand. You kids were the best thing that ever happened to your father and I.

Secondly, upon the onset of my death, I tap you as my successor as leader of our colony. I know this may come as a surprise given that you always saw yourself as my least favorite and thought I was hardest on you for no reason, but I only did so because I knew the greatness that you were capable of and the role you would one day play. Do not take your role as leader lightly nor belittle its meaning—heavy is the head that wears the crown. In the spirit of confession, I don’t think I ever successfully found a way to balance the role of mother and Command, a fact that I will regret long after the unveiling of this letter. Watch over our people and protect the colony over all else. I’ve given instructions to the necessary parties to ensure that my last request comes to fruition.

Most importantly, never forget the importance of family, one of the very pillars OS was founded on. No matter the enemy, the trial, or the tribulation, as long as you surround yourself with people whom you can trust and who love you, no matter what that looks like to others, you will always overcome and triumph. I know we never had the kind of relationship you had with your father and if he were writing this, he’d probably prioritize other advice, pushing ideology and rhetoric we seldom saw eye-to-eye on, but I pray that you heed these words and are comforted by them.

Your loving mother,

Regina

It took only minutes for Lettie to consume the letter in its entirety, but by the time she’d read it three times over, she could have recited it word for word and was somehow left with more questions than answers.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, forcing her to pack her mother’s words away to digest later.

“Come in.”

“I come bringin’ gifts.”

Lettie watched as Nico strode into the room, except this time he was not alone. Pushing him aside none too gently, Aida barged into the room and her eyes grew wide when she spotted Lettie in bed.

“Aida! What are you doing here?” Lettie yelped joyously, unable to stop herself from smiling.

The ripped material of her jeans did little to cover her usual scratched-up knees, but otherwise the teen seemed unharmed.

“Mrs. Raza was getting tired of my questions, so she said I could stop by and see you.”

Her eyes traveled the length of the bed and then landed on the tubes at the nape of her elbow, taking in every machine, medical tool, and item in sight.

“Some of the guys kept saying you got crushed under a building and died.” Her voice quieted as she finished, a frown appearing on her face.

“Well.” Lettie lifted her arms as high as she could manage under the pain and tangle of tubes. “I’m here, aren’t I? So, either I’m alive or I’m a ghost. And maybe I look worse than I thought, but do I really look ghostly?”

Aida pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows high, some of her usual cheekiness returning. “Ghostly might be a stretch, but you’ve looked better.”

Nico nudged her with his shoulder lightly. “Don’t pay her no mind L, I reckon you look beautiful.”

Lettie patted the empty space beside her, and Aida approached the bed. It was near impossible to muffle a laugh as Lettie watched the skinny child try to exercise caution as she made herself comfortable.

Finally meeting Nico’s watchful gaze, Lettie waited for him to speak. He didn’t inquire about the letter’s contents, and she didn’t volunteer them. Instead, he pushed a steaming plate into her lap, and Lettie happily accepted, packing the letter behind her pillow, carefully.

“Aida reckoned we could surprise you with a plate. They been feedin’ you through tubes while you was passed out, so figured you’d be wantin’ some real grub. There ain’t no arguin’: LuAnn’s food always hits the spot.”

“It’s really not a big deal. I’m hungry like all the time so I figured you’d be, too, after all your sleeping. That’s it.”

Lettie looked down at the teen’s face, and Aida avoided her eyes, shrugging nonchalantly. On cue, a slight pang in her stomach signaled that Lettie was indeed famished. Only a few minutes were required for her to inhale the plate of pasta, and feeling sufficiently stuffed, Lettie happily volunteered her vanilla pudding to Aida, who took it gratefully. The next couple hours passed by quickly, both Nico and Aida catching her up to speed on how life outside the four walls had continued, the climax of Aida’s unhappiness being that the local school had survived the bombings. Their momentary respite was interrupted when Malachi and Luthor marched into the room, both donning similar expressions of varying anxiety and impatience. She hadn’t noticed it before, but while Luthor looked fairly unscathed from the fallout, Malachi wore a black sling over his neck, his right arm hidden away among layers of gauze and medical wrap.

Even so, Luthor managed to feign a semblance of normalness for Aida’s sake, giving her a fist bump and flashing his best smile.

“Aida, Nico, do you mind if we speak with Lettie for a moment?”

The pair looked toward Lettie expectantly, waiting for her go-ahead. She nodded her head, and Aida squeezed her hand before walking out of the room, trailed by Nico, who clearly loathed the idea of leaving but didn’t argue. Instead, her best friend sternly informed her he would be right outside and closed the door behind them.

Lettie nodded at Malachi’s arm, which hung across his wide chest in a sling.

“That happen trying to protect her?”

In a matter of seconds, Malachi’s face took on a meekness that Lettie had never witnessed before. “Yes. I was there, when…when she went. I did everything I could Lettie, I swear. I’m so sorry I—”

“Don’t. Please, just…don’t.”

Apologies wouldn’t bring her back or make either of them feel better.

Malachi nodded understandingly and Luthor spoke up, clapping the other man on the back, hoping to cut the tension in the room.

“Okay, guess we’ll get right to it then. I take it you’ve read the letter so you’re aware of your mother’s wish for you to be her successor as head of OS.”

Lettie nodded, reminded of the letter under her pillow, the words still playing in her head.

“Well, traditionally we’d wait for all members of Command to be present, but unprecedented times such as these call for emergency protocols. A nomination was made and the council voted two days ago. The result was unanimously in your favor, Lettie. Hinging on your formal acceptance of the role, you are the Obsidian Society’s new leader.”

Lettie remained silent and still, allowing her to catch the passing of a cautionary glance between the two men. Luthor continued, focused.

“Against my professional opinion, Malachi and a few of the other department heads are insisting that the inauguration be held in two days confirming your leadership.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Malachi’s words were clipped, his hardened proclivity returning.

“I said no.” Lettie squared her shoulders and tried to replace the tear-stained raspiness in her voice with added conviction. “I’m not letting another minute pass while my brother is being held hostage by the same people who just murdered my mother, our leader.”

Malachi was quick to counter. “While I agree that getting Christian back is a priority, establishing an official head of this colony takes precedence.” He folded his arms, thinking carefully about his next words. “Besides, until you receive the mark of Command, the authority over all our forces falls to your mother’s second, me. And I refuse to take soldiers away from carrying out emergency protocols until that happens.”

Lettie fixed her lips to argue back when Luthor interrupted.

“He’s right, Lettie. Only Command has that power. Attend the inauguration and if you are confirmed, the city and its soldiers are yours.” He delivered the statement so matter-of-factly that Lettie almost missed his choice of words.

“What do you mean if?”

His face remained blank, expecting the question.

“Technically, according to our codes, anyone on the council can request an appeal of the primary nomination before the confirmation takes place on the basis of gross misconduct or unfitness for the role. Your mother’s request that you succeed her was just that, a request.”

“And by anyone, you mean Junior.”

“Yes.”

The moment was not the first time Lettie’s older brother had crossed her mind that day. Lettie had questioned his lack of appearance at her bedside before, but she finally understood why. Junior was busy plotting.

“Fine.” As much as she didn’t like it, Lettie couldn’t argue with their logic. If she wanted to get Christian back safely, she would have to jump through these hoops to do so. “We hold the inauguration first, on one condition: we move it up to tomorrow.”

Luthor sighed heavily into his hand but didn’t vocally object to her request.

“I’ll let the others know,” Malachi responded.

“Please do.” As the words left her mouth, Lettie threw the blankets off her legs and carefully began to shift herself down from the bed. Luthor was at her side in an instant.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.” Feet securely planted on the ground, Lettie used the bed for assistance and pushed herself up. A wave of pain shuddered through her body and Lettie tried like hell not to show it. Once the spots of dizziness had receded, she transitioned her focus to the tubes attached to her arm. “I can’t lay in this bed any longer. It’s driving me crazy.”

Gently, Luthor put his hand over Lettie’s, pausing her dashed removal of the IVs.

“I highly advise that you spend at least another night in the clinic. Your wounds haven’t closed yet, and there could be some lingering side effects from the blood loss.”

“I appreciate your advice, Luthor, I always have, but no. I’ll watch the stitches and you’re free to check up on me tomorrow, but I can’t stay here. Please send Nico in on your way out.”

From the hard line of his lips Lettie fathomed that he wasn’t happy, but Luthor didn’t argue, Malachi trailing him as they both exited, and Nico entered a few moments later, alone. Working in silence, Nico helped her remove the IVs and put bandages over the pinpricks. Lettie didn’t bother fussing over her attire, instead deeming it too much work to change out of the pajama pants and T-shirt she donned. It did comfort her slightly to find her worn-in boots and the biggest puffy jacket she owned in the bare wardrobe, and Lettie threw them on happily. As they moved to leave, Nico picked up a large first aid kit that Lettie could only assume was full of medical supplies gifted by Luthor. Guilt at adding to Luthor’s already long list of headaches rubbed at her, and Lettie made a mental note to thank him later.

Exiting the room, Lettie’s earlier estimation was confirmed. The clinic was brimming and there were people everywhere, in the hallway, in the lobby, every room jam-packed. A guard fell in behind them, and Lettie trailed another one who was followed by Nico. As they bypassed the hall that led toward the main lobby and front of the building, Lettie tugged on Nico’s arm.

“Where are we going?”

“Back entrance, your carriage is waitin’.”

The comment piqued her interest as their group walked through a set of doors at the back of the hospital that opened into a parking garage. In front of them a scavenged Chevy Tahoe sat idle, awaiting their arrival. Nico opened the door for Lettie and she scooched in. Two guards were seated in the front of the SUV, and Lettie watched as their previous escort headed back inside the building.

“As much as I think this is overkill, I’m not going to complain—the thought of having to trek home through the snow right now makes me want to pass out.”

“Best get used to it.”

***

The rest of the ride home was quiet, due in part to Lettie’s shell shock at the destruction that accosted her outside. Even with the developing snowstorm that had begun to gain momentum, Lettie could still make out blocks of the city where the remains of buildings sat crumbled, their structures imploded in various stages of collapse. She watched as a group of workers who had been assigned to clean up removed barrels full of fallen brick and loaded them onto the back of a truck, the remnants probably on their way to be reutilized elsewhere.

Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of a set of apartments Lettie knew used to house several young families, the walls now toppled in on themselves. The personal transport was tussled when the driver was forced to awkwardly maneuver the vehicle around a large concave hole that had been blasted into the middle of the street, the rugged tires easily riding over the leftover pieces of black asphalt scattered here and there.

Once they arrived at Lettie’s apartment building, still very much intact, Nico broke the eerie silence with directions to the driver.

“Hang a left up ahead, and then that there back alley leads to the service entrance out that way. We’ll be headin’ there.”

In that moment, Lettie was glad one of them was thinking on their toes: she could only imagine the stares their little posse would’ve incurred had they taken the usual route through the front. After much maneuvering and by the time they’d reached the top floor, Lettie was out of breath and had resorted to using Nico as a crutch, limping her way through the front door of her apartment. Having left the first guard behind at the elevator, the second was silent as Nico and Lettie stepped past the apartment threshold, leaving the woman to her post.

Surprise overtook Lettie as she’d half expected the apartment to be changed, affected by the tumultuous evolution of events that’d taken place since the last time she was there. Instead, everything was as she’d left it, though it was clear that Nico had been crashing there in her stead from the fullness of Max’s bowl and the makeshift cot set up on the couch. The sight of the bowl reminded her of her furry counterpart.

“Max. Where is she?” Worry crept into Lettie’s voice.

“I think po’ girl could feel somethin’ was up. She kept on clawin’ at the back door other day, so I gone ahead let her out and she done been stayin’ out there ever since. She come in to eat, but that’s ‘bout it.”

Not wasting another moment, Lettie threw open the back door and called after her. Seconds later, a fluffy shadow came zooming down the balcony path. Bracing herself, Lettie let her jump up onto her good leg, careful to protect her injured thigh.

“Hey, girl! I heard you missed me.” Lettie scratched the pup behind the ear the way she liked, and the move made her wiggle enthusiastically.

Once Max was finally placated, the duo returned to the refuge of the apartment, closing the cold air off from them. Nico turned on several lights and lit the fireplace, the main living room filling quickly with warmth. After a brief respite spent letting the heat engulf her, Lettie limped along the hallway and into her bedroom. It wasn’t until she sat on the edge of the bed, unpacking the little bag that contained most of her wardrobe, that she realized the last time she’d been in the room, in that bed, she hadn’t been alone. For the hundredth time that day, Lettie let her thoughts travel to Collins, wondering if the woman thought about Lettie and the effects of her underhanded betrayal before silently berating herself for the allowance.

Later that night, as tired as her body felt, sleep would not come despite how long Lettie lay in bed with her eyes closed. Finally, frustrated with the futile effort, she pulled on her boots and quietly padded out of her room, Max close at her heels. From the sound of his roaring snores, Lettie knew that Nico was out cold, the two boulders that made up his chest moving up and down under the light blanket, hands positioned awkwardly above his head; nonetheless, Lettie made quick work of crossing the living room to the sliding door, slid it open, and hurried out. Max jumped out after her, and she quietly closed the door behind them. It was freezing, but for the first time since Lettie had returned home, she felt like she could breathe. Tightening her jacket around her, she breathed in a large gulp of air, ignoring the soreness of her chest and torso, and exhaled heavily. No longer concerned with her solemn owner, Max bounded through the snow away from Lettie, happy to be back outside.

“That makes two of us, girl.”

Lettie took the stairs slowly up toward the terrace, taking careful precaution against any covert ice. Reaching the ascent, she found the spot she was looking for. Easily missed if one weren’t looking for it, Lettie stumbled on a part in the safety gate where the material had been struck during a particularly bad storm years ago, leaving a hole in the fence large enough for one person to fit through. Careful of the jagged edges of the fencing, she maneuvered her way through the small opening and onto the edge of the roof. Taking a seat, Lettie let her feet dangle over the edge, looking out over the city.

The sky was muggy, but the moon remained visible through all the gray. Though Lettie had lived in Salt Lake for the past eleven years, the city had never looked or felt so different. The changes that had sprung between now and the last time she’d sat in that spot plagued her mind. She soon found that letting her mind drift to the loss of her mother for even a second made Lettie feel like she was going to vomit, torrentially cry, or both. The pain in her chest was too much to bear, so she pushed the thought away, quarantining it behind a wall. Amplifying her hopelessness even further was that as worried as she was about Christian and as much anxiety as tomorrow’s confirmation brought her, Lettie couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Collins, a swirl of emotions pulsing behind her eyes, coloring her vision. Anger at her betrayal. Fondness of their last time together. Sadness at her departure. And finally, disappointment. Disappointment in herself that given all that had occurred these last few days, Lettie could not shake her feelings for the woman.

“Lettie!”

The voice shook her from her thoughts, and Lettie spun around carefully, taking care not to shift her weight too much. A blinding flashlight shone directly in her face.

“Nico? I thought you were asleep.”

“Listen here. I know that shit’s been right bad lately, but you ain’t gotta do this. There’s better ways of dealin’.”

“What?” she questioned, looking puzzled at his outstretched hands.

“Jumpin’ won’t do nobody no good!”

Realization at the meaning behind Nico’s words dawned on her, and Lettie glanced between the edge of the roof and back at him. And burst out in laughter. Her outburst was only quelled by the look of confusion on Nico’s poor face.

“I’m not trying to kill myself, dude.”

“Fo’ real? I mean, shit, yeah, that’s…that’s what’s up.”

Her best friend inched closer to where she sat and then peered over the edge carefully, eyes going wide. “You gone tell me then what the hell you doin’ sittin’ up here by your lonesome in the middle of the night?”

Lettie hesitated, realizing he had a point and that she didn’t really have a logical answer for him.

“Was just getting some air, I guess.”

“Bullshit.”

Lettie waited a beat before continuing. “Fine. I was just thinking about before—when shit was easier. Actually, that’s a lie. None of this was ever easy.”

Lettie motioned to the view before them, continuing.

“But it made sense. It was just you and me and ours and it wasn’t easy—we didn’t always get it right—but it made sense. And now my mom…now there’s all this stuff happening, and it makes even less sense. And Collin—I can’t believe she just left.”

The crack in her voice was audible over the growing wind.

Nico studied her intently, breaking eye contact only once she’d finished. He looked over the city skyline and then back at her.

“We oughta be gettin’ back inside. Bein’ up here gives me the sweats and Luthor’d take hold my balls if he done knew I let you out here in the freezin’ cold.”

“Let’s,” Lettie said in agreement.

She grabbed Nico’s extended hand, and they trudged down the little trail of steps and back into the apartment. It warmed her heart as she turned to find Max hot on their heels, slipping back through the sliding door behind them.

Standing in the living room, Lettie watched as Nico shed his coat onto the couch, which left him wearing only a threadbare shirt riddled with holes and worn sleep pants. In that moment Lettie was reminded that through all that had changed, there were the constants; suddenly the echo of her mother’s words flitted across her mind.

“Hey, thanks by the way.” Lettie tried to keep her voice light. “Not just for listening,” she nodded toward the back door, “but for everything at the hospital. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d woken up to Malachi’s ugly scowl or Luthor’s worried frown. I’m glad it was you there next to me. It means a lot.”

She didn’t voice the part of her that had so badly yearned for it to be Collins who sat next to her.

A look Lettie couldn’t quite decipher spread over Nico’s face, and she was reminded of when they were younger, some of his boyish juvenescence momentarily rematerializing. Just as quickly, the look vanished and returned to its normal smug mirth.

“Don’t go gettin’ all soft on me, L. You’re my people, it’s what we do. ’Sides, you’d do the same for me.” The words were delivered matter-of-factly, no hint of hesitation.

“You’re right, but let’s hope the roles are never reversed and we never have to worry about that.”

Nico plopped onto the sectional and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

“You would say somethin’ like that. That’s why you gone make one helluva Command.”

Lettie’s surprise at the statement was minimal; word traveled fast in the colony.

“I still have to get through tomorrow night though.”

“True,” he responded, elbows on his knees and chin on his knuckles. “And runnin’ on no sleep prolly won’t help none.”

“Good point. Good night.”

“Night, Lettie.”

***

“What’s going on?”

“You got company,” Nico answered, turning around toward her and smiling.

The two of them had been slow to get up the next morning, and it took a heavy knock at the front door to finally rouse them from their slumber. By the time Lettie’d managed to painfully pull herself from the bed and limp into the living room, Nico stood in the doorway, speaking to the lead guard.

Disclosed during her departure from the hospital, the female who’d taken up position outside of Lettie’s front door was named Hestia. She was one of the two guards who would be temporarily in charge of Lettie’s well-being, though it didn’t seem that Nico had gotten the same memo from Malachi.

Hestia was tall and built, possessing lean, prevalent muscles. The woman’s large stature was accompanied by an effortless gender fluidity, which exuded an Amazonian gladiator-like prominence. Her amazing stature was only overshadowed by the stunning amount of scars intertwined with various tribal inkings that radiated a life of battle and pride. Hestia’s brown eyes and wide nose fused with perfectly tanned beige skin, even in the looming winter season, conveying that she possessed some kind of Pacific Islander ancestry. She’d taken OS’s colors one step further, dawning a purple stripe down the length of her dark hair, concluding in a tight, neat bun. Despite a certainty that she’d seen her in various meetings and in passing, yesterday was the first time they’d ever spoken directly. Studying the pair, Lettie got a momentary kick out of Hestia and Nico standing side by side in the entryway, resembling two buildings crammed into a small city block.

An audible commotion of people in the hallway pulled Lettie from her thoughts, and shuffling out of the way, Hestia allowed the guests to enter, never taking her eyes off the group.

Recognition emerged immediately as every member of Lettie and Nico’s unit trickled through the door and made themselves comfortable. It occurred to her later that they were all unarmed, their weapons having been seized by Hestia and Jaime in the corridor.

“We heard the rumors, but we had to see for ourselves!” Lorenzo raced to her, but pulled back at the last minute, careful of his strength as he threw his arms around Lettie. “Got hit by a bomb and still kicking, huh?” His pudgy cheeks were cherry red from the sudden warmth and from the scent of his breath, also a heavy pour.

Lettie didn’t hide her cheesing as they descended into the living room. “What are you guys doing here?” Her watch read two in the afternoon. “Shouldn’t you be on duty?”

“Don’t you worry your sweet little head about duty. Malachi’s been working us like modern-day slaves. But he’s suspended all nonessential duties today in honor of your special day, madam.”

Lorenzo waved his arms in the air dramatically and folded down at the waist, ending in a gallant bow, and everyone erupted in laughter.

With all fourteen of them in the room, the noise level was an octave below deafening, and Lettie could already feel a slight headache coming on, but she was too content to complain.

Several containers of bread, cheese, jerky, and fruit were passed around, and everyone took their fair share. Satisfied, the group settled on couches, chairs, and pillows around the room; well wishes and cheers were slung Lettie’s way. Topping off the pleasantries, Tristan made her way through the mass of people and pulled her into a tight embrace, her locs loose and smashing into Lettie’s face. Her scent was one of familiarity, just like everyone else in the room, and Lettie wrapped herself in its comfort.

“We thought you were dead,” Tristan murmured, quiet enough that only Lettie could hear her.

“Not possible. Then who’d be left to take your shit and give it back? We both know Nico can’t handle the abuse himself.”

Tristan smirked, her purple-coated lips configuring into a grin. “You’re right.” Like lightning, her companion’s face grew serious, and she took Lettie’s hand in her own. “I’m so sorry about Regina.”

Lettie nodded in appreciation, holding her eyes. “I’m sorry about your dad.” She gave Tristan’s hand a firm squeeze back and dropped it.

Her voice was somber. “At least he’s still here.”

“True, but it’s still a loss all the same.”

Tristan rubbed Lettie’s shoulder in appreciation, and as Lettie trailed away to talk to someone else, Nyla caught her eye. She stood with several others in the kitchen and mouthed the words “welcome back” followed by a small salute. Lettie bowed her head slightly to convey her genuine thanks, before finding a seat next to Lorenzo on the couch.

The rest of the afternoon passed in fits of laughter, retold stories, and games. Though she herself refrained from the offered beer and wine, that didn’t stop most of the group from succumbing to the heavy drinking and nostalgic euphoria, bodies eventually toppling sleepily wherever there was space.

Lettie observed the sensation from her seat at the kitchen island and realized that aside from Nico, Nyla, Tristan, Lorenzo, two others, and herself, everyone else in their unit had joined OS within the last several years—people who started out as strangers were now family, all driven together by the same crisis. Coming together through tragedy was kind of their MO.

It wasn’t until a second wind began to overtake the room that three unforeseen events happened all at once.

The first: Josiah, the oldest member of the unit, leapt into the middle of the intersection between the living room and kitchen and bellowed at everyone to get their attention.

The second: someone topped off stale drinks and passed fresh ones around, forcing a can of beer into Lettie’s hands.

The third: Josiah lifted his glass and suddenly everyone was staring at him, his eyes on Lettie.

“I want to make a toast to the reason we are all gathered here today instead of freezing our asses off in the shit.” This earned him several cheers before the room quieted back down, and he resumed.

“Lettie, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that as much as we are saddened about the passing of your mother, we couldn’t think of anyone else we’d rather have replacing her. You’ve led us all through hundreds of missions, and now you’ll lead our people through much more.”

Her heart beat hard in her chest, and Lettie squeezed her fist tight behind her back, the pain from the half-healed wound jolting through her.

“Before you leave us for the mighty crown, I want to leave you with some words we use to say back home.”

“Home” didn’t require further elaboration. They’d all heard stories about the crazy shit Josiah saw when he was in the Army Rangers.

“This is our unit. There are many like it, but this one is ours. It is our life. We must master it as we must master life. My unit, without me, is useless. Without my unit, I am useless.”

Josiah continued, and as he neared the end of his speech, Lettie could feel the electricity in the air, the others in the room clearly touched by his words as well.

“Before Command, I swear this creed. My unit and myself are the defenders of my colony. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of our lives. So be it, until victory is the Society’s and there is no enemy, but peace!”

A chorus of cheers rang out, glasses were raised high, and backs were slapped. Breaking her own short-lived sobriety, Lettie indulged in a long swig from the can.

She moved to thank Josiah when someone yelled from across the living room, interrupting them.

“Jo, you forgot to mention the part ’bout our victory hunting those betas! What’s white, slow, but brown all over?” There was a pause for effect. “A beta running through the mud!”

The crack garnered an eruption of yips and cheers, encouraging the speaker.

“Maybe if they’d lose them tight-ass fancy uniforms, they might’ve had a better chance of getting away. Damn cowards.”

Lettie was unsure who the originating comedian was and even more confused by what the quip meant, but the slur for members of the Front seized her attention.

“What are you all going on about?” She tried to hide the seriousness of her question behind a light chuckle, going along with the joke.

One of the veteran members of the squad, Marina, responded. From the sway of her body as she spoke, it was obvious she’d had her fair share of the lousy beer.

“Those betas that we chased down a few miles from here, ya know, the ones we caught trying to escape with that Captain lady who trained with us. I heard a rumor that Malachi wants to make an example out of ’em. Could be worse, they could—”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Suddenly Lettie’s head was swimming and the headache that had dissipated was back in full force. All joking had disappeared from her voice as Tristan materialized before her, and Lettie posed the same question to her. Her second’s eyes were wide, and the room had suddenly gone quiet, the rhythmic hip-hop previously playing softly in the background now gone.

Nico emerged from somewhere in the back, and both women’s eyes met his at the same time.

“You didn’t tell her?” Tristan queried.

“Well…well I ain’t exactly had tons of time! She just hardly woke—”

Lettie cut them off, despising being talked about like she wasn’t there.

“Didn’t tell me what?”

Nico puckered his lips and let out a sigh.

“Day or so after the bombin’, Malachi had gone and sent us out to try and go after Christian. When we finally gotta hold of some Front soldiers, Christian wasn’t nowhere to be found. Our thinkin’ was they must’a split up into two groups. So, we uh…we rounded up the group of ’em who was still alive and brought ’em back.”

“And Collins?” Her throat was tight.

“She was with ’em. Brought her back here ’long with the others.”

Lettie’s comprehension that Collins was not only alive but somewhere in the immediate vicinity was coupled with another revelation: her unit had gone on a recon mission to capture the captain and Lettie was the last one in the room to find out.

Her mouth operated on autopilot. “You knew about Collins and the others, and you didn’t tell me? Three days I’ve been awake, and you didn’t once think to tell me that the woman—that she was alive?”

The moment unfolded rapidly, as people began to file out of the apartment, even in their drunken stupors understanding the underlying situation at play. Cans were discarded on tables and coats and scarves were thrown back on as the front door finally closed. Only Tristan, Nyla, and Nico remained. Nyla waited across the room in the open kitchen, resting on the island counter, little more than a spectator.

“Not tellin’ ya, I’ll take the blame for that, that’s my bad, Lettie, but I didn’t say nothin’ ’cause I knew if I did, you’d mess ’round and throw ’way your chances at being Command. You’d rile yourself all up ’bout Michelle and pay no mind to council business.” Nico replied so nonchalantly that Lettie couldn’t tell if he was trying to apologize or not; a fact that only succeeded in making her all the more irate.

In response, her voice was hard. “You had no right to keep that information from me. I know this might be news to someone who treats every day like it’s a game, but some of us have the ability to act like actual adults when the time calls for it. I can handle my responsibilities and still care about her.”

“Can ya? ’Cause you done already let her cloud ya head once. Next time might be a lot more people’s lives on the line and shit, after dealin’ with everythin’ this past week, I…I don’t know Lettie.” Nico took a moment to rub the back of his neck, grappling with his thoughts. “’Fore Michelle, you was one way, and now you another and somethin’ done got twisted right round with your judgment.”

The accusation felt like a bomb being dropped on Lettie all over again, and she was speechless, the air between them silent for several seconds.

“Nico.” Tristan broke the silence and Lettie blinked her eyes several times, having forgotten that she was there. “You should go and get some rest before the inauguration.”

Frazzled, Lettie glanced at her watch and realized that the meeting would start in a little over an hour and a half.

“Your sister and I will help Lettie get dressed and make sure she makes it to the convention center in one piece.”

Clearly upset, Nico prepared to object when Hestia knocked on the front door.

The guard’s words were muffled but discernible as she addressed her charge. “Ma’am, I’ve got Luthor on the line. He says he can’t get ahold of you on your radio.”

Welcoming the intrusion, Lettie moved to open the door and Hestia entered as Nico exited in a huff, two ships once again passing in the small harbor.

Luthor gave Lettie a quick verbal assessment, and she answered all of his questions in the negative, not wanting him to worry over her the rest of the night. After returning the radio back to Hestia, Lettie made her way over to Nyla and Tristan, who resided next to each other on the sectional, Tristan’s head snuggly laid on the younger woman’s shoulder as she sipped some of the leftover beer.

Lettie settled across from them, pulling her legs underneath her.

“Ready to get dressed, your highness?”

Lettie ignored the comment. As tumultuous as their relationship was, she knew it was because of that relationship and the blunt person that Tristan prided herself on being that Lettie could always trust her to tell the truth, however ugly.

“In a bit. I need you to tell me about Collins. Where is she exactly?”

Tristan sighed and rolled her eyes, but, surprising them both, Nyla interrupted.

“She deserves knowin’. Tables turned, I’d wanna know if it was you. Go on ’n’ tell her,” she urged, pinching Tristan playfully in the side.

“Fine,” she responded, drawing the word out. “Girl’s being held with the rest of RCF in the Icebox.”

Lettie’s heart jumped at the confirmation of Collins’s exact whereabouts, Tristan referring to the basement of the convention center, where renovated storage lockers now stood as the colony’s makeshift jail.

Tristan continued, grinding the gears turning in Lettie’s head to an abrupt halt.

“You won’t have enough time,” she said, tapping her watch. “Besides, maybe there’s some truth behind Nico’s words. This is an important night for our people, and they deserve your full attention.”

Why can’t I have both my people and Collins? Lettie wondered to herself.

***

Collins nor anything to do with RCF was discussed the rest of the night. Instead, Lettie unenthusiastically brushed her teeth, ran a brush through her hair, and replaced her pajamas with black jeans and a dark purple sweater. Nyla helped her into her tac vest and did the same with Lettie’s boots. Begrudgingly, Lettie even gave in and let Tristan braid one side of her head into a neat set of little twists, kept in place by a lather of equal parts hair grease and gel. Once they were almost to the convention center, they said their goodbyes, parting ways to allow the couple to go and get ready for the reception dinner. Hestia and Jaime escorted Lettie the rest of the way, riding the building’s elevator to the top floor in silence.

When the elevator doors slid open, it took a while for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. The hallway was illuminated by lamps that had been placed on the windowsills, their reflections playing across the black cloth that decorated the various windows and ceiling. It was clear from their momentary pause that Hestia and Jaime were taken aback by the sight; though they’d both trained under Malachi for years, neither had ever been present at an initiation vote. Struck by a sense of déjà vu, Lettie paused, thinking back to her mother’s own last-minute confirmation.

The sound of Regina’s voice explaining the various decorum and absence of electric-powered lighting at the event, to remind them from where they came and where OS could one day end up again if Command did not understand the weight of which they were about to take on, echoed in Lettie’s ears. Taking the first step out of the elevator, Hestia and Jaime followed her down the corridor. The familiar set of guards were stationed at the first door, allowing her entrance into the meeting room, her own watchful duo taking up position next to the existing sentries. Similar to the hallway, the room was lit only by candles and lamps, positioned strategically to allow the maximum amount of light to shine upon the table, leaving the surrounding area a bit darker. Several people greeted her, slinging well wishes as Lettie made her way toward her usual seat at the side of the table. Before she could do so, Luthor seemed to appear out of nowhere and embraced Lettie in a tight hug.

“You’re actually over there now.” He nodded to the front of the table, where her mother used to sit, his words somber but steady.

Lettie met his gaze again, and Luthor encouraged her with a nod as she meandered to the chair, taking a seat. Suddenly, Lettie was aware of every eye in the room on her, though conversations still carried on in quiet murmurs. Though all familiar, many of the faces exhibited the stress of the last few days vividly, the former combining strangely with soft smiles and intermittent laughter. Maybe Malachi was right. Though everyone in the colony seemed to be on edge, soothing placation filled the room as Lettie caught several sparks of what she could only define as rejuvenation, both seeming to spawn from the anticipation of the installation of a new Command.

Feeling slightly out of place at the head of the table, Lettie studied the room, waiting for what was to come next, when her eyes paused on Christian’s usual seat, now empty. Not that she’d forgotten, but once again Lettie recalled the various plans and tactics she’d formulated in respect to the mission she planned to launch as soon as these formalities were over with. It was then that Lettie realized that nowhere on her way through the room had she spotted Junior; she did a second take around the room, confirming the absence.

“Everyone, please take your seats. It’s time to begin.” Luthor’s voice was calm but loud enough that everyone in the room shuffled to do as told. The oratory feat was one that Lettie would later realize both he and her mom made look and sound easier than it was.

Discreetly, Lettie tapped her hand on the table as the doctor took the seat to her left, grabbing his attention before he could settle.

“Where’s Junior?” she whispered, so that only he could hear her.

“He sent a messenger half an hour ago; apparently, he is unwell and unable to join us.”

“You’re kidding.”

Luthor shook his head before addressing the rest of the room, the formal side of him she only ever saw in this room in full effect.

Luthor began by reminding everyone why they were gathered that night, as if anyone was unaware. Lettie clenched her hands under the table when it was Malachi’s turn to speak, and he delivered a short eulogy-like speech about her mom. Afterward, he turned to her, his brown eyes staring directly into her soul and summoned Lettie to stand, which she did.

“Leticia Jenaye Valentine, you have been nominated by the previous leader of this colony and tapped by the members of this council. Do you accept this nomination?”

“I do.”

He turned back toward the table. “Is there anyone present who has reason to believe that Leticia should not be appointed head of this council?”

Lettie couldn’t resist scanning the room, searching for the smallest movement or jerk of interruption, but there was none, the room dead silent.

“It is settled. The nomination has been confirmed by a unanimous vote. As the interim leader, I do hereby pass over all duties, powers, and responsibility of the helm of Command and leader of the Obsidian Society to you.”

Untimely, Lettie’s heart beat ferociously inside her chest, and she willed herself to focus on taking shallow sips of air to slow it, worried the loud pounding would betray her in the space of silence.

Mandated by a declining tradition, everyone stood at once and lifted their right fist to their heart and took a small bow toward their new leader. Right on cue, the doors at the back of the room opened and closed, depositing two more people. The pair walked the length of the table toward Lettie, and as they neared, Malachi made room, scooting his newly vacated chair closer to her. Lettie recognized the older man immediately as Khalil, one of the city’s better-known tattoo artists; he was so well-known that he’d been called upon to do both her parents’ Command marks and even a few of Lettie’s own personal pieces, when extra funds allowed.

Khalil ducked his head slightly and the boy with him did the same, though the latter’s was much more of a full-blown bow.

“Ma’am, this is my son, Kareem. I’ve been training him for years and believe he is ready, with your approval, of course.”

Lettie studied the boy and knew he couldn’t be any older than seventeen. Even so, he had more tattoos on his neck and what little of his arms Lettie could see than any other person in the room, except his own father next to him.

“Hey, Kareem. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well…ma’am.”

Lettie shrugged off her jacket and removed the watch and rings on her right hand.

Taking a seat in the chair next to her, he set down a beat-up leather briefcase next to him on the table. A smaller high-top table was brought over and placed between them as he began spreading out various tools, cloth, and tubes of ink. The setup was quick, and in minutes, Lettie was putting her hand onto the table so Kareem could slather an alcohol swab across her skin. Eventually the boy looked up at her, a small fading star playing at the corner of his eye.

“Ready?”

Lettie gave him a nod, and the wireless battery-powered needle gun whirred to life. Kareem commenced with her middle finger first, where her initiation ring usually sat, creating a permanent band all the way around the finger. The band was fairly simple, a medium-thick black rectangle bordered by black lines on both sides. Once that was done, a line was drawn from the band up through Lettie’s knuckle and the real work began. Lettie watched, hardly fazed by the feel of the needle, as Kareem expertly painted a circular border of intertwined rock, leaves, and black Obsidian stones. In the middle, he added the face of a lifelike black panther, its teeth bared and ears perked, ready to spring to action. The detail of the big cat was so intricate that though its profile was pointed away from Lettie, it felt as if the dark eyes were looking everywhere at once, including at herself.

Though it was the first time the art had donned her own skin, Lettie was very familiar with it, having seen the same mark for years on both her dad and then her mother. The memory of lying on the sofa with her dad, tracing her finger over the lines, several years shy of starting her own collection, came easily to Lettie. The game was familiar: a boisterous younger Lettie would point at one of the drawings on his dark skin, and he would invent a new and elaborate story behind its meaning. His playfulness always ceased, though, when Lettie pointed at the scene on his hand. Her dad relayed how that particular tattoo was the mark of a true leader and that the rocks and grass evoked the land they came from, the Obsidian signified their long history of people, and the panther was a reminder to whoever wore the mark that as Command, one must be strong and ready to spring into action to protect their people at a moment’s notice.

It wasn’t until her mother’s induction a short few months later that Lettie understood that every component of the tattoo was meant to remind the wearer of the responsibility they held, from the process, to the specific artwork, down to the consistency of the ink; a small vial of red liquid was mixed into the mixture as final touches were made, a physical bond to those who had come before.

Once Kareem set the instrument down for good, he wiped her hand once more with a solution, removing any ink that lay on top, and bandaged Lettie’s hand with gauze and plastic wrap. Lettie thanked him and his father for their services and the two departed. The others, who’d been watching the hour-long process quietly, now began to talk among themselves, the meeting having been concluded. Lettie flexed her hand several times, working out the soreness, and glanced up to find LuAnn standing in front of her, Luce at her side as normal.

“LuAnn, Luce, it’s good to see you guys.” They all exchanged hugs, LuAnn’s lingering a little bit longer.

“Congratulations, Lettie. Or should I say ma’am?”

Lettie’s wince at the formal address was obvious, garnering chuckles from the warm couple. “Dear lord, please don’t.”

“Whatever you say. But in all seriousness, you’re feeling a little skinny, hun. You need to come by more often and let me fix you something.”

Lettie knew the woman wouldn’t let her off the hook until she promised to do so, but she never got the chance, as the corridor doors opened once again and in marched Hestia. Hestia made a direct path to Lettie, and Luthor and Malachi were quickly by her side, replacing the provisions couple.

“Ma’am.”

Lettie made a mental note to correct Hestia’s address of her later (as she was almost positive they were exactly the same age), but let it slide given the serious nature of the woman’s tone.

“There’s a woman outside by the name of Jalicia,” she continued. “She’s got a computer with her and claims she’s got something she needs to show you right away. I wasn’t going to let her in, but she said it was about Koenig, and she won’t leave.”

Lettie recognized Christian’s second immediately.

“Let her in.”

Without another word, Hestia disappeared and returned in a matter of seconds with the technician. The woman was sweaty despite the decreasing temperature outside, and slightly out of breath, confirming she’d probably ran all the way there.

“Everything okay, Jalicia?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s a video. A message from Commander Koenig. It came in about thirty minutes ago directly to our network. Took a while for me to download since it’s coming from off-world, but I really think you should watch it now.”

Lettie was about to motion for her to set the computer up when Malachi placed a hand on her shoulder and Lettie looked up to realize that several heads had begun to turn to them, curious about Jalicia’s presence.

Without words, Lettie deciphered his meaning and nodded. Malachi led her, Jalicia, and Luthor into the large executive office off the meeting room. Lettie’s steps momentarily faltered at the fact that the office no longer belonged to her mother but to Lettie, and she tried not to let it distract her from the matter at hand.

As Jalicia got the computer set up on the coffee table, the group huddled in close behind her.

“I don’t think you’ll be making it to your party, ma’am.”

The video suddenly lit up the screen, all eyes on Lettie.

“Play it.”

Chapter
13

The 6:56 a.m. on her watch’s face teased Lettie, and she tapped her fingers on the wooden table hard, a lack of sleep the previous night and a splitting headache starting to catch up to her. She wore the same clothes from last night, having crammed an hour of sleep in that morning on the couch in her mother’s office—now her office. The last of the council trickled in, reading the room knowingly, and instead of idling, took their seats immediately. For the umpteenth time, Lettie studied the image frozen on the projector screen, and her eyes physically burned, the image ingrained in her brain permanently since last night.

Foregoing words or introduction and with no need to call the room to attention, all eyes already poised on the screen, Lettie signaled to Malachi to hit play.

The audio was fuzzy at first but then cleared.

“This is Commander Koenig of the Renewed Citizens’ Front, presiding force of the free planet Cypheria, and this message is for Regina Valentine and her league of followers.”

The message already on repeat in her head, Lettie tuned out the speaker’s audio, instead studying Koenig’s face. Despite the subpar quality of the video, the camera angle was close enough to make out darkened circles under his eyes. Otherwise, his dominant, piercing features were as severe as the last time she had seen him at the train depot, and she had to actively remind herself he was not actually present in the room.

The video continued with Koenig confirming what they already knew: claiming responsibility for the bombings and officially dissolving the fabricated treaty between their two factions. Head held high in a boastful manner, Koenig addressed the catastrophe as if it were just another day, and then it dawned on Lettie. For someone like him, it probably was. The roar in her chest grew exponentially as the video concluded, knowing he was about to deliver the blow that’d been echoing the loudest.

“Now that you’ve been at the receiving end of what was a sample of the power of my forces, I leave you with this. You have seventy-two hours from receipt of this message to arrange the return of my daughter and any other members of RCF being held captive into my custody.”

Lettie winced at his use of the familial term.

“Failure to do so will result in the execution of Christian Valentine and the resumed attack upon your sorry excuse of a city. I shall await your prompt compliance. And please, do not force my hand, Mrs. Valentine.”

The screen went black, and Malachi hit pause on the keyboard, preventing a replay.

LuAnn spoke first, mirroring the confused faces around her. “What does he mean by ‘daughter’? Who’s his daughter?”

When Lettie didn’t respond right away, Luthor interjected.

“Captain Collins. She was captured recently by our recon team and is being held in the Icebox with the others.”

A collective audible intake of breath traveled the length of the table.

“When was this received?”

“Last night.”

“So at least twelve hours ago—which means we have less than three days to act.”

“Less actually.” Luthor’s blunt tone stoked the intensity of his words. “Not that you need reminding, but with Christian gone, the communications team has been working overtime to get our internal network back up and running. It took an additional day to get this specific server up and working, dating the receipt of the footage from off-world somewhere around yesterday morning.”

This produced several sour faces in response, and Lettie interjected before anyone decided to voice any audible scorn toward Luthor.

“I don’t like it either, but they’ve been working around the clock on getting things back online. We’ve got less than forty-eight hours to focus up and figure out what to do going forward.”

The words had barely escaped her mouth when one of Junior’s personal cheerleaders chimed in. “That’s easy enough. We give him what he wants. We’ve got an entire load of betas downstairs. I say we get rid of ’em all and be done with Koenig for good. Kill two birds with one stone.”

The comfort brought on by those sitting around the table who were visibly upset by the short man’s words didn’t blind Lettie to the few heads that nodded in agreement.

“These are people we’re talking about, not animals. Let’s not forget that.” Luthor rapped his knuckles on the tabletop, pointing down. “They don’t deserve to be bartered like cattle.”

“Bullshit. Those animals bombed our city and killed our people.”

Luthor responded, sighing heavily, “Koenig is responsible for those killings, not them. If anything, they’re as much the victim to his power as we are. And, more importantly, who is to say the bombings won’t start again as soon as we hand them over?”

“Luthor has a point.” Lettie wasn’t the only one surprised by Malachi’s immediate consensus. “I’ve dealt with men like Koenig before. They make empty promises and then as soon as he’s got what he wants, those promises turn disposable. At least with the girl and the others here, we have something he wants. That gives us leverage, cattle or not,” he concluded, lifting his free hand to tighten the sling around his neck, unaccustomed to the snug fit.

“What other choice do we have? We all heard the video. If we don’t play along, who knows what kind of shit he’ll pull next. We try to barter, and he’ll blow OS off the map.”

“I disagree. He clearly wants his daughter out of harm’s way, or he would have gone on destroying the entire city. I don’t think he’d risk another attack, not while she’s in the cross fire.”

“Is that your personal or professional opinion, Malachi? Besides, that’s a big if.”

The formation of a vein protruding out of Malachi’s forehead threatened to pop, and Lettie interrupted before it could do just that.

“That’s enough.” She glared at the agitator to make sure they knew she didn’t appreciate the undercut and continued addressing the room. “You all make good points. This has always been a city for those who seek a new way of life, and it’ll continue to be one as long as I have a say in it. But we also can’t toss our decision up to guessing and debating what a lunatic like Koenig is capable of and what he’ll do if we don’t give him what he wants.” Lettie paused for effect and all eyes hung on her next words. “So, we ask the person right under our nose who’ll have the answer.”

***

Having escorted enough drunken brawlers, thieves, and the occasional outsider down to the depths of the convention center’s basement, Lettie knew the inner workings of the jail by heart. The way the elevator had been rigged to let out an ear-piercing ding upon arrival at the floor where the makeshift jail resided rang familiar. Despite the heat from the furnaces and other mechanical equipment that kept the building running, the basement levels barely stayed above freezing most days of the year. The name Icebox was given by the soldiers and guests alike. As their little entourage stepped off the elevator, they made their way through several doors and passages before reaching a larger hallway that’d been fixed with large steel bars across the room, barring anyone from getting any further without the proper keys. Hestia approached the guards who stood behind a similarly gated alcove.

Contrasting the brig’s domineering nickname, the area was pretty underwhelming, aside from the prominent number of fully armed sentries. Her mother having preferred restorative justice, the jail was almost never at capacity and only a few inmates there were long-term guests. Lettie and Jaime stood among a few chairs that doubled as a waiting and check-in area, but Lettie was well aware that behind them and two more locked doors was the beginning of the holding cells.

Several moments later, Hestia returned to Jaime and Lettie along with the duty officer in charge, and they followed him as he led the trio through the respective doors and into the jail’s main corridor. The makeshift cells varied in size and were outfitted with rinky-dink bunk beds, long metal benches, and small portable sink areas, everything bolted down to the concrete floor. Luckily, due to the large number of cells compared to the small number of RCF members, there didn’t appear to be more than two or three people to a cell. As they were about to turn the corner of a second hallway, someone to their right beckoned Lettie by name.

Hestia was positioned between her and the unknown person at the forefront of the cell before Lettie could even register who’d spoken. Peeking around Hestia’s large frame, Lettie recognized the face behind the voice.

“Remy?” Lettie motioned to Hestia, Jaime, and the jail sentry to stand down and give them a moment, though Hestia didn’t stray far from her side.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see your face, dude.” There were smears of dirt on Remy’s face and hands, and Lettie registered a few bruises both on her neck and knuckles, proving the RCF mechanic had given as good as she got. “There’s rumors that Christian’s missing. Is that true?”

Lettie didn’t bother placating her. “He is. But I’m working on getting him back. Are you guys okay?” Lettie nodded her head at both Remy and the two other women in the cell behind her.

“We’re fine. Would be nice to get out of here, but not complaining, for now.”

Hestia shifted her weight, and Lettie was reminded of the reason they were there.

“I’ve got a plan, but I need a little bit more time, okay? I won’t let them keep you guys in here much longer.”

The younger woman’s usual smirk returned, but the strain in her eyes revealed she was holding something darker underneath it.

“Just don’t take too long. There’s 101 ways I’ve thought about dying, and turning into an ice cube in some dank dungeon ain’t one of them.”

Lettie gave her the most reassuring smile she could manage and then resumed walking down the hall behind the guard, who quite literally was swinging his keys around his finger and whistling “Jimmy Crack Corn.” Before the next section of cells began, they stopped at a gray door, the black paint peeling off in several places. Jimmy Crack Corn opened the door as Lettie turned toward her guards.

“I won’t be long, wait for me out here.”

“Are you sure?” Hestia gave her a look that voiced her disagreement plenty.

“Positive.”

Head high, Lettie strode into the room, and in a chair to her left sat Collins. She was flanked by two more stern-looking guards, her hands and feet cuffed to the chair’s legs and armrests. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Lettie, the weight of the green orbs heavy as she breathed in deeply.

Voice as even as she could manage, Lettie turned to the female guard and motioned to Collins.

“Can you remove the cuffs and give us the room?”

The woman hesitated for a moment but didn’t argue, quickly and expertly removing the restraints, and then both guards exited, clanging the metal door closed behind them.

Collins’s hair was pulled back in an untidy bun, a few strands falling into her face. The fluorescent lights in the room highlighted every detail of her face, and like Remy, Collins bore several bruises around her cheek and fresh scratches on both her chin and neck; Lettie didn’t know if they were from her own people or Collins’s.

In spite of the oversized knit sweater, jeans, and boots, Collins squeezed her arms around herself, her fingers tapping rapidly on her bicep, the effects of the box prevalent. Silently, Lettie removed the wool peacoat she was wearing and handed it to Collins. She put her arms through it acceptingly, wrapping the material around her securely. Lettie took a seat in the rickety metal chair across from her, and everything that she’d planned to say evaporated as their eyes held each other’s.

“That’s new.”

Lettie followed Collins’s gaze down to her exposed hand, the skin still slightly raised but healing well under a layer of antibacterial ointment.

“It’s my Command mark. Got it last night.”

“Nico told me about the vote, but it’s different to see it now, here, in person.”

It was Lettie’s turn to be surprised. “Nico visited you?”

Collins’s brows furrowed. “You didn’t know? Yeah, he’s been visiting me every few days, making sure the others and I are being fed and have some spare blankets and such. He even yells at the guards when they don’t feed us fast enough.”

Lettie didn’t laugh, and the small timid smile faded from Collins’s lips quickly.

“Then you know about my mother.”

“I do. Lettie, I am so sorry. If I’d known, I’d—”

“You’d what? Try to stop your father?”

Collins’s head jerked slightly, as if the words had dealt a physical blow. Recovering, she responded, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “I wanted to tell you. So many times, I wanted—”

“But you didn’t. You betrayed me, again, and people I care about got hurt because of it. Again.”

Across from her, Collins wrestled with something Lettie couldn’t name, her hard stare unwavering.

“You aren’t the only one who lost people, Lettie. Those bombs didn’t discriminate. And we both know that if I’d told you who I really was that first day, you wouldn’t have given me the time of day. Let’s not overlook that fact.”

There was no denying the truth of her statement, but Lettie didn’t voice the concession, her frustration only growing.

“I didn’t come here to talk about us…”

“Don’t dodge the question.” Collins’s slender fingers gripped the chair’s armrests so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “If you’d known Ivan was my dad, would you have treated me differently?”

“Yes, Michelle! If I had known you were the daughter of that evil elitist asshole, I would have known to steer clear of you. I would’ve listened to Tristan, and my friends, and my gut. Maybe then my mother would still be alive.” Lettie exhaled deeply, suddenly spent.

There was a moment of silence between the women, the random creaking of the structure filling the space.

“That’s what I thought.”

Tears brimmed at the edges of Collins’s eyes and she wiped at them roughly, determined not to release them. Lettie’s body lurched slightly; a warring instinct to both close the space between them and to escape to safety out the door behind her swelled. To physically stop herself from doing either, Lettie slid her hands under her thighs and a pain shot up her right wrist, reminding her of the fresh mark.

Collins’s voice was raw as she continued. “Instead, you’d stare at me like you’re staring at me right now, like my own people already stare at me, like I’m some vile outsider, like I don’t belong.”

“None of that changes the fact that your father, the leader of RCF, slaughtered innocent people and tried to destroy this colony.” The words were not easy to choke out, but Lettie managed.

“Punish the cubs for the feats and faults of the lion.” Collins uttered the words to the floor more than to Lettie, momentarily zoning out from the room. When she returned, those same green irises found Lettie again, and the mask she’d thought a bygone fell over Collins’s face. “Has he reached out yet?”

Lettie nodded. “He’s given us three days to return you and the others to him or else he’ll kill Christian and continue the bombings. We’re down to about”—Lettie glimpsed at her watch—“forty-six hours.”

“He’s bluffing, at least about Christian. He doesn’t have him.”

Something in Lettie’s chest loosened. “Are you sure? How do you know?”

“I overheard the group that took me captive talking about it. John—Lydecker—was initially ordered to grab you, Christian, and Roman. I think my father planned to ransom you against your mother: Salt Lake’s submission for the lives of her children. He never intended to abide by the treaty.” She paused, staring at her hands before continuing. “But when they learned I’d stayed behind, the mission changed, and I became the primary objective. John was supposed to apprehend me that night, but he couldn’t find me.”

Lettie’s thoughts traveled back to the night in question, and even with everything that’d transpired, she could still feel Collins’s hands brushing down her spine. She shuddered and tried to play it off as a result of the frigid temperature.

“When he couldn’t find me, they started to panic, which I’m now assuming was because of the timing of the bomb. They were getting desperate, and with a large chunk of us having deserted, my dad gave the order to call in a debt from some local gang, disguised as RCF, to take Christian. Something Spanish, Los Gatos or Lobos, Lagos, maybe, I’m not sure. But I do know they were supposed to rendezvous with our group and board a vessel home, but they never showed. I think that’s the only reason we weren’t off-world when Nico and the others showed up.”

Shocked by what she was hearing, Lettie attempted to make sense of everything while simultaneously forming her own follow-up questions.

“Do you know where they took Christian or where they were going?”

Collins shook her head, and Lettie was sure her disappointment mirrored her own.

“Lettie, what’s going to happen to us? The others are getting riled up by rumors from the guards and I’ve been trying to reassure them, but they need real answers.”

Lettie bit her lip, knowing that if Malachi or Luthor were there right now, they’d advise her against relaying any information, but there was something about Collins’s look of determination, even in the face of fear and exhaustion, that Lettie couldn’t help but respect, and even deep down, love. She deserved the truth.

“Some of the council wants to hand you all over without a second thought, and the others either aren’t sure if any of you can be trusted or are afraid of a second attack if Koenig doesn’t get what he wants.”

“And what do you think?”

It was the first time since the video had emerged that anyone had asked Lettie the question outright, and she knew immediately what she thought. But what Command was supposed to think, Lettie wasn’t as sure.

“It’s not that simple,” she responded flatly.

“Isn’t it though? I didn’t have the privilege to really get to know your mother, but she was always kind to me; I think she’s partially the reason why I was allowed to train with you in the first place. Even then, I saw the power she wielded over those around her and this colony as Command. Now that power has been passed down to you. It’s as simple and as difficult as that, Lettie.”

Unprompted, Collins moved to take the coat off, and Lettie shook her head, walking over to the woman and pulling it back up over her shoulders.

“Keep it.”

As Lettie lingered over her, even in the Icebox, she could feel a phantom heat pulling her toward Collins, the feeling both welcoming and inviting. Lettie pictured her hand, now paused on the lapel of the jacket, traveling up toward Collins’s neck, the familiar flesh smooth under her hand. When she met Collins’s eyes again they bore into her own, waiting to see what she’d do.

“Guards!”

A loud grating reverberated around the bare room as the door behind them swung open and the two brig guards entered, replacing the handcuffs around Collins’s wrists and escorting her out an adjacent door.

“Ready to head back?” The head duty guard posed the question to Lettie as she emerged from the holding room and back into the main hallway.

Lettie nodded but not before placing a heavy hand on his shoulder to ensure she had his full attention.

“If anyone else lays a hand on her, or any of the others, they’ll have to answer to me directly, is that understood?”

Jimmy Crack Corn nodded his head vigorously, and Lettie swore she saw Hestia smirk before falling in line behind her as they made their way back to the elevator.

***

Their next stop was the gaudy dwellings of Junior. Lettie knocked on the door, Hestia waiting patiently behind her while Jaime stood post at the gleaming elevator several feet down the hall.

Sounds of rummaging and clanging were audible from inside. A few moments later, Junior answered the door dressed in a tacky Gucci robe. The cloth’s outline revealed that he was completely naked underneath, and Lettie averted her eyes; she was not so lucky, though, at avoiding the smell of liquor that hit her square in the face.

“Ahh esteemed guests! Please, do come in.” He drew out the last word and turned his back on them, burrowing back into the cave.

Turning to Hestia, she read Lettie’s mind before the words left her mouth.

“I’ll wait out here.”

Lettie thanked her as she stepped into her brother’s apartment, closing the door behind her, Junior having disappeared from view. Making her way through the foyer and into the kitchen, Lettie sidestepped several trash bags and cardboard boxes. Repurposed bottles and mason jars littered the kitchen island and counters. Lettie was astounded by the state of the usually pristine apartment and found a similar scene in the bedroom, where she discovered Junior lying face down. Metallic pill canisters and baggies in varying stages of emptiness and uprightness were too apparent to ignore on his nightstand.

“Luthor said you were unwell.” Lettie took a seat next to him on the bed. He didn’t respond so she continued. “Are you actually unwell or just avoiding me because of the vote?”

He rolled over onto his side immediately and eyed her up and down. “Mmm, that’s right! How could I forget my little sister taking over as Command, following in our parents’ footsteps? Congrats, L, from the deep, deep barrel of my heart.” His speech was slurred, and Lettie recognized the drowsy gestures as effects from whatever combination of pills he’d mixed together. “You lucked out in the way of personal bodyguards, though, huh? She’s a little on the bigger side, but I’d shoot.”

Lettie ignored the comment, instead reaching her hand out to him.

Junior studied it quizzically for a moment but took it, curiosity winning out.

Yanking his hand, she pulled him up off the bed and took his body weight onto her. Using her legs to support them, she navigated them toward the bathroom. It was bigger than most and didn’t require much maneuvering on Lettie’s part to get them both through the door. Getting Junior into the tub was harder, but Lettie finally managed it. She paid extra attention to his head as she eased him down into the basin, his long legs hanging over the lip of the tub. Without warning, she turned the cold water on and flipped the knob, engaging the shower head. Junior’s eyes grew wide and he tried to pull himself out, but she held him down with her foot against his chest.

“What the hell, Lettie!”

It was hardly a struggle to hold him there for an entire minute, her sober strength winning out against his own inhibited stupor. When she finally turned the faucet off, he’d calmed down slightly and let her help him up. Wrapping a drenched arm around her neck, they waddled out of the bathroom and into the living room. Not at all gently, Lettie dropped him onto the leather sectional and headed toward the kitchen. She fixed a glass of water and found an apple in the pantry. Returning to the living room, Lettie threw the apple at him and set the water in front of her eldest brother.

“Eat. Drink.”

Junior scowled at her but sat up, fixed his rob, and did both. When Lettie was pleased by his progress, she began.

“Do you want to explain why I wake up from a coma and find out one of my brothers has been taken hostage while the other is nowhere to be found?”

For a moment, his eyes fell to the floor, genuine regret clouded his face, but it passed as quickly as it had come.

“I thought you’d be happy about my absence. I heard about the uneventfully dull night. You’re welcome by the way.”

The smugness in his tone was so thick that Lettie almost regretted helping him out of bed in the first place.

“We both know I would’ve passed the confirmation just fine on my own. But sure, I am curious, so tell me…why didn’t you object?”

Junior tilted his head and scratched at the unkempt beard that had overtaken the bottom half of his face.

“Because you’re right. Had I been there, the result would have been the same. Mom made sure of that.”

The vindictive edge Lettie had grown used to, especially when discussing the inner workings of the council, had disappeared from his voice, leaving behind a sad tinge in its wake.

Lettie wasn’t sure what to say in response, her brother’s crack in offensiveness catching her off guard.

“I miss her too, Rome. She…she wouldn’t want us apart.”

“What did you come here for, Lettie?” His voice didn’t possess its normal venomous bite, but it was clear any moment of shared healing had passed.

“I need your help.”

Junior tried to hide it but perked up instantly at the chance to be useful, crossing his leg over the other smoothly.

“How can I be of assistance?”

***

It wasn’t difficult to assemble the council for the second meeting that day, the department heads gathering back together after an early dinner. Though there was a substantial amount of work being done to get the city back up and running, with every available hand on deck, progress was being made at an expedited pace. Other than Luthor, whose second radioed Lettie earlier to inform her he’d been pulled into an emergency surgery, and Malachi, everyone else sat before her. Junior made himself comfortable at the other end of the table. They’d gone over the plan in detail, and Lettie was relieved that his versed mind and body had managed to sober up in time for the meeting.

Rising out of her chair, the room fell silent.

“Thank you all for gathering at such a last-minute notice. There are two items I want to address tonight—the first brings me so much joy and comes after a hell of a time waiting.”

Lettie motioned to the back of the room and Junior rose from his seat, opening one of the back doors. The pair’s eyes scoured the room, bewildered but trying to hide their anxiety. Nico and Tristan were ushered into the room and stood awkwardly in the doorway until Junior pointed them to their seats. Nico took the chair to Lettie’s right and Tristan next to him.

Her friends’ nervousness amused her, both clearly unused to such sweeping attention.

“As you all know, Malachi will be stepping down and due to my own repositioning, there’s a vacancy over the recon unit that must be filled. So, I am nominating Nico as our new head of security and Tristan to fill my old position as head of the colony’s reconnaissance unit.” Lettie turned to them once again. “Do you both accept the nominations as stated?”

“I do.” Nico’s response rang more question than answer, while Tristan’s was rushed and beat his by seconds as it tumbled out of her mouth.

“Good. Now, do you, the current members of this council, confirm the nominations? All those in favor raise your hands.”

All hands shot into the air, and Lettie let out a sigh of relief she hadn’t known she was holding. Halfway there.

“The nominations have been confirmed. Nico and Tristan, welcome to this council.”

There was a scattering of applause, and smiles were thrown genuinely. Once the noise subsided, Lettie took her seat and crossed her hands on top of the table, shoulders squared back in preparation.

“Now, to the other matter on the agenda.” She glanced at Junior from across the table and he gave her a small nod, standing to his feet.

“Command has decided that the RCF detainees will be given the opportunity to become full-fledged members of our community. Each individual will be vetted by myself, Nico, and Tristan personally, and those who pass, after approval from Lettie, will be initiated like any other member. Following in the footsteps laid out by our mother, those who do not pass or those who choose not to go through the process will be exiled from the city. Any attempt at returning will be met with deadly force.”

“And what about Koenig?” The question came from Luce.

Lettie moved to address him, and Junior took his seat.

“I’ll buy time with Koenig until we can get Christian back. I’ve spoken to Captain Collins and several other captains in the Box, and they all agree: the man may be crazy, but he won’t risk another bombing—not while his daughter is still here. In the meantime, Captain Collins has agreed to cooperate in any way she can, including sending proof of life to Koenig.”

“How do we know we can trust the captain? How do we know she won’t go running her mouth to her pops as soon as she gets the chance?”

Unsurprisingly, Tristan was already committed to making the most of her new position by questioning Lettie’s.

“Captain Collins will be vetted just as thoroughly as the other detainees. If she is cleared of any wrongdoing or acts of violence against Salt Lake, she will be given the choice to become a fully initiated member of this colony or not. In either scenario, she will be deposited into Nico’s care for safeguarding until further notice.”

Silence fell over the room and Lettie resumed.

“This route allows us to extend immunity to those who deserve it, the immunity that OS has grown to be known for while also protecting the colony. The colony my parents fought and died for.”

She paused, letting her words hang heavy in the air, allowing anyone that wanted to speak the opportunity to do so. The room remained silent.

“Good. For now, we focus on the rebuilding and fortification of the city until we have a lead on Christian. Initiation protocols start in the morning.”

***

The lead on Christian came sooner than Lettie had predicted, and her heart filled with anticipation when a message arrived from Nico to meet at recon headquarters. Per her new normal, Hestia was close on Lettie’s heels as they strode through the front doors of the convention center, the building mostly empty at the late hour. It took some work, but Lettie had succeeded at convincing Nico and Malachi that two guards was overkill, and if a constant shadow was indeed required, at least let it be someone who Lettie didn’t have to worry about gawking at her in her own apartment. In this, and many other ways, Hestia was perfect: the Samoan possessed a natural way of blending into the background except for when needed, a skill made all the more impressive given her muscular, heavyset size.

Lettie was shaken from her thoughts when they exited the elevator and entered the unit’s main work space. People chatted and lingered all around the room, but one group drew her attention immediately, sticking out like a sore thumb. Gathered in a semicircle and looking uncomfortable stood a dozen former Front members, all donning various layers of plain clothing and identical purple orbs on their middle fingers. Lettie recognized several of them from the bonfire that now seemed ages ago and returned a dumbfounded wave when Remy nodded at her from the middle of the group.

Movement at the center of the room caught her eye, and as she gave several greetings to those closest to the outskirts of the room, making her way inward, Lettie went still. Standing next to Nico, Collins brushed her hands over her hair and down her braid, fiddling with the messily tied end. Like the others, she wore the new bespoken jewelry and had clearly visited the shower and wardrobe beforehand. Thoughts of their last conversation in the frigid jail cell, the unrhythmic tempo of her heart contrasting the ice in her voice, hounded Lettie. Unprompted, Collins looked up, scanning the room, and found the other woman’s lingering gaze. Nico’s quiet whispers were suddenly interrupted, glancing between the two women before greeting Lettie quickly and calling the room to order.

“Aight, y’all,” he bellowed out, clapping his hands for attention. Everyone quieted instantly, some took seats, while others continued to stand, all listening attentively. “We all know what’s goin’ on. Thanks to Jalicia and Remy’s workin’ ’round the clock, we done had some luck pickin’ up on Christian’s whereabouts and we know that the lil’ shits holdin’ him are holed up in some ’bandoned warehouse ‘bout twenty-three miles from here. Now, I know it ain’t up to just me”—his eyes landed on Tristan and then moved to Lettie’s—“but I done took some ’nitiative and Michelle and me think we gotta plan, a real damn good one, if I’m bein’ straight.”

“Well, let’s hear it.” The words escaped Lettie’s mouth against her brain’s will.

As much as she wanted to rescue Christian, Lettie also felt a crushing desire to push everyone out of the room, grab as many guns as she could physically carry, and go after him herself, but she refrained.

Taking a nod from Nico as her cue, Collins spoke, head held high. “Myself and several of the other new initiates wanted to find a way to help. To say thank you. And after going over the numbers and confirming that the group that has Christian is very well-armed, we thought it might be a better idea to avoid going in guns blazing.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

She motioned to the clumped group to her left. “You let us go in first, as a diversion.”

Lettie was immediately flooded with a mix of emotions, but any chance for her to vehemently protest was cut short.

“Is this a goddamn joke?” Tristan leapt down from her seated position on one of the tables, standing a few feet away from the presenting duo.

Nyla tried to intervene by grabbing her arm, but Tristan shook her hand off, nonchalantly.

“So, you’re initiated for two seconds and what, we’re just supposed to trust you not to betray us again?”

Nico moved to interject, but Collins was quicker. “We’d be risking our lives, the same as all of you.”

Tristan narrowed her eyes, her wide nostrils and nose ring flaring dramatically. “Wrong. We’re risking our lives because of you. Last I checked, we wouldn’t be in this shit if it weren’t for you!” She pointed a bejeweled finger directly at Collins, who didn’t back down.

“If I recall correctly, it was you who couldn’t find Christian on your first attempt. I’m the only reason you have a lead to begin with.”

“That’s enough.” Lettie rounded the table and stood catty-corner between Tristan and Collins. “I can’t force you to like each other, but you will work together and do it well.” Lettie lowered her voice an octave. “Please. I need to get my brother back, and for this to work, it’ll require both of you, got it?”

Tristan remained silent, returning to her seat, wide hips perched on the tabletop. Collins looked between them both and nodded her head, before returning her attention to anything but Lettie’s direct gaze. Without warning, Lettie became very aware of how close they were to each other, and warm vanilla infiltrated her nostrils.

“Nico, please go on,” Lettie stated quickly, trying to get rid of her distracting train of thought.

“Like I was s’plaining ’fore we was so rudely interrupted”—he mock-glared at Tristan, who huffed and rolled her eyes—“we go in slow and quiet.”

The next hour was spent laying out their course of action, trying their best to plan out every detail with the little intel possessed. Three teams, A, B, and C. A would be headed by Collins, B by Tristan. Collins and the others would intercept the group first, under the guise of having escaped the city and seeking allies. Team B covered them, and once the signal was given, the rest of them would move in swiftly, taking advantage of the confusion, catching the group off guard, and apprehend them. There was some initial disagreement over what was to be done with the Front soldiers once captured, but Lettie squashed any misconceptions without hesitation. They were to be kept alive if possible, in the hopes of aiding with the larger problem of Koenig himself.

Collins concluded where Nico’d left off. “If everything goes as planned, there’ll be no bullets fired. And if that can’t be avoided, then at least we’ll be in a position to protect all our people.”

The room fell silent as everyone looked around, waiting for the other boot to fall.

“Tristan.” The newly appointed unit leader met Lettie’s eyes. “This is your unit; you’ll be a spearhead on this. What do you think?”

The way she pursed her lips tightly told Lettie that it pained her to do so, but Tristan tipped her head in agreement. “I think we could whoop their beta asses either way, but if it increases the chances of getting Christian back safely, then yeah, I’m all in.”

Lettie studied her, Nyla, Lorenzo, and the others, all nodding their heads, some more enthusiastically than others. But that didn’t matter. Not now. What mattered was getting Christian back home.

“Good. We leave at sunset tomorrow.”

***

Lettie tightly gripped the pull-down handle affixed to the ceiling of the vehicle as they hit a particularly large dip in the road. Efforts to maintain the roads closest to the colony were high, but they’d been driving for twenty minutes and the conditions only grew worse the farther out they got. The majority of the roads this far out were still scattered with tons of debris, various vehicles, and machinery, creating sporadic blockades. Their small caravan whipped through the snowy roads unaffected. They had those before them to thank for the Humvees that now guarded against most threats, both man-made and environmental. When the colony was first founded, Allister ordered a small emergency National Guard base not far from the city to be ransacked and picked clean of anything that wasn’t nailed to the floor, including a haul of the badass behemoths. The idea to rip out the seats and install long metal benches, creating twice as much space inside, was Christian’s, making the all-terrain vehicles functional but uncomfortable.

They hit another bad dip, causing several occupants to be thrown slightly into the air, jostled like loose change.

“Jesus Christ ’Zo, want to get us there in one piece, yeah?”

Lettie’s silence categorized her among the minority; she’d take the longer bumpy ride over the nauseous careening of an air transport any day.

Lorenzo threw back a few “sorrys” from behind the steering wheel, his eyes not leaving the road.

Nico turned toward Lettie and lowered his voice so only she could hear him. “Been a hot minute since the whole crew’s been on a mission together. You good?”

It was not the first time the thought had crossed her mind. Only a couple hours ago, as Lettie begrudgingly accepted help from Hestia with getting strapped into her vest, did she realize how much had changed since their interception of the Lobos almost a year ago.

“I’m fine. Same shit, different day.”

“Mmm, not all the same.”

Understanding the underhanded comment, Lettie glanced across from where she sat, squeezed between Nico and Hestia. On the parallel bench sat Remy, Jordyn, who Lettie vaguely recalled flirting with Collins before at the bonfire, and next to her, Collins. She wore her entire Front uniform, the stark white-and-gray outfit finished with the standard-issue tactical vest. It was the first time Lettie had seen her in the uniform since the first week after the RCF fleet’s arrival. Like the rest of the decoy team, a thin balaclava was pulled over her head, but Lettie still caught sight of the neat braid peeking out from the bottom. Collins’s eyes were closed, and she appeared to be asleep. The charade was betrayed when her eyes slowly blinked open, meeting those across from her. Lettie quickly diverted her gaze, moving to study the rifle that rested in between her legs, the feeling of the gun’s barrel as familiar as ever, unchanging.

“Fair point.”

The others chatted among themselves, but she looked on silently until they reached the first checkpoint. It was pitch black and the Humvees’ headlights had been extinguished miles ago, making the outline of the third vehicle barely discernible as it pulled off behind them, disappearing behind the slope of a hill. No words were needed, as Nyla’s group navigated the landscape to the vantage point as planned. Their caravan continued on, slowing down to lessen any noise. Lettie scanned the fogging windows as their vehicle pulled off the road two minutes later and began to tread down a smaller maintenance road that led deeper into the heavily wooded terrain. Right on time her radio crackled to life, and Lettie turned it up so everyone in the vehicle could hear.

“Lettie, it’s Tristan, do you copy?”

“I copy. Go ahead.”

“We’ve made it to the peak of the hill, and we got a pretty great view actually. You shouldn’t be that much further from the clearing.” She paused for a moment, speaking to someone in the background. “If they had a perimeter watch, they’re gone now. I’d continue on foot if I were you, just in case. Don’t want to risk tipping off a scout.”

Lettie motioned to Nico who motioned to Lorenzo, and he complied immediately, Marina directing him from the passenger seat to a smaller alcove off the road. Lettie ensured the group behind them did the same and then hit the radio receiver.

“About to send the first team in. Lettie out.”

“Copy. Tristan out.”

Strapping the radio back onto her vest, Lettie threw the rear doors open. Quietly but quickly, they filed out into the woods, boots crunching over the new snowfall. Once everyone had unloaded, she checked in with Lorenzo and the other driver one last time to ensure they kept the engines running. Lettie returned to Nico and the others who had split into two groups respectively, each ready to carry out the previously discussed plan. It took some convincing and more than one assurance, but next to Collins, Hestia stood in a similar RCF uniform, helmet cradled under her arm. Under the guise of needing an insider she could trust, Lettie knew that if things went south, Hestia would protect Collins and the others.

Her boots crunched in the snow as Lettie stepped between the two groups, their flashlights shining on her like spotlights.

“I know it goes without saying, but tonight we are taking a big risk coming here, but we are doing so to get back one of our own. I should have said it sooner, but thank you. Thank you all for taking on such a risk to come out here, in the freezing cold, to help me rescue my brother. You all know the plan, and I know that if we stick to it, I promise we’ll all make it back home.”

Several people nodded their heads, others checked their magazines and chambers, ready to head out. Lettie watched as Hestia and the rest of the imposter captors slipped their helmets on their heads. Remy took a length of rope and expertly tied Collins’s hands together in front of her, before securing her own helmet. Collins didn’t hold a weapon in her hands like the others, but Lettie knew her pistol was strapped inside her jacket, and the fact helped her breathe a bit easier.

She watched as the others fell in line around Collins and started to march toward the warehouse.

Suddenly, Nico materialized next to her and gave his friend a slight nudge.

He wore a look of disbelief, his eyes wide and darting between Lettie and Collins.

“You really just finna leave it like that? No squashin’ or nothin’?”

“Now’s not the time.” Lettie squeezed her hands around her gun, knuckles clenched tight.

“Now’s the perfect time.”

Lettie ignored him, signaling him to drop it, but couldn’t throw her hand out quick enough to stop him as he strode away, right up to Collins and the others.

“Be careful, aight? Watch one ’nother’s backs. Anythin’ seem not right or feels outta pocket, you radio and get the hell down.”

Nico slid his gloved hand between Collins’s and the others nearby as Lettie watched and once again, felt the same urge—the need to throw herself between all of them and whatever was to come, shielding one person most of all.

Collins looked her way, and Lettie was wary her own thoughts had somehow betrayed her, until the other woman finally broke the line of sight, turning her back on Lettie.

“Let’s get going,” Collins commanded, and Team A began to trudge down the main pathway.

They gave the departing group a ten-minute head start before beginning their own trek, maneuvering through the heavily condensed forest instead, taking up the left flank toward the warehouse. Most of the ten-acre property was bare, a single dirt road leading up and through the area. Only three buildings sat on the property, the largest of them being a two-story long structure which the pair of smaller buildings surrounded. The warehouse was composed of manufactured metal sheets that had not held up well throughout the years of elemental exposure. The dull panels were streaked with growing rust, while the roof looked like it could cave at any moment, the beams inside likely sagging under its weight. It was slower work than planned, the snow and overgrown roots making the walk more tiring than Lettie had thought it would be. Nonetheless, she was grateful, assuming the same harsh conditions that currently berated them were also what had probably led their targets to remain at the same shelter for as long as they had, instead of moving on to their rendezvous point. Her legs burned, but Lettie didn’t slow down, quickened by the thought that every step brought her closer to Christian. They picked up the pace, Nico and herself setting the tempo, until they finally took position against the side of the looming warehouse.

Lettie peeked around the building to the clearing out front and as anticipated, the Lobos and remaining Front captors had made quick work of intercepting the decoy group, surrounding them on all sides. She hated that her line of sight to their people was impeded but forced herself to stay calm, reassured by the fact that Tristan and the others had their backs. A quick scan of the area revealed all visible vantage points and exits. Keeping her weapon trained at attention, Lettie used her left hand to radio Tristan.

“We’re in position. See anything we should be worried about?”

“All clear. No snipers, no scouts, no reinforcements of any kind that we can see.”

“Okay. As soon as we go in, make sure you guys are watching those buildings closely. There could be a few still lingering inside and I don’t want any surprises. And Tristan, remember: no one fires unless they fire first.”

“Copy. Ready when you are.”

Lettie repeated the same instructions to her own group and, heart beating fast, gave Nico the signal to move in. United, their filed line swooped in behind the group.

“Freeze! Weapons down! Do it now! Down!”

There was an uproar of profanity and confusion, the opposing group startled by their sudden presence. Several of the combatants moved to raise their weapons, but halted when they realized they were at a disadvantage. From out of the corner of her eye, Lettie registered three people drop their guns and try to sprint away across the slick field, but Marina and others cut them off, forcing them into the snow face first.

“Down on your knees, down now!”

Lettie swept her gun back and forth, threatening those closest to her, until they complied, dropping to their knees and lying facedown in the snow. She didn’t lower her weapon until she reached the middle of the group, Collins and her team now pointing their own guns at those surrounding them.

“Everyone okay?”

“Fine.”

Once Lettie was convinced they were out of immediate danger, she radioed to Tristan to bring it in and instructed Lorenzo to bring the trucks around. Their quick arrival relieved her, her desire to get back to the colony growing by the second.

“Nico and Jordyn, get some people together and start patting down for weapons, get ’em cuffed, and start loading them up.”

Lettie walked over to one of the RCF captors who looked like he was going to piss himself right there in the snow and pushed him over to his side with her boot.

“Where is the hostage being held?”

The man responded without hesitation, his voice shaky. “Over there.”

“How many guards?”

“I don’t know, like three or four maybe.”

Letting him return to his cowering, Lettie looked around the clearing.

“Hestia, Remy, you two with me.”

She didn’t wait to make sure they were following, striding toward the smaller building the man had pointed to. Lettie tried the doorknob and slowly pushed the front door open, stepping into a makeshift office. They cleared the front room and efficiently but silently navigated toward the back of the building. Several voices were audible behind the second door, and they exercised the same quiet approach, except this time upon her entry someone slammed the door onto her gun. Instinctively, Lettie threw her shoulder forward hard, the door springing open, knocking over whoever was on the other side. Lettie landed a swift kick to the man’s temple, and he was out immediately. The gun in his hand flopped to the ground, and she kicked it away from his vicinity.

Mutters resounded as Hestia and Remy won their own battles, Hestia wrangling a poor woman down to the ground like a piece of meat. With the room secure, Lettie ran over to the figure behind the desk, tied to a large executive chair. Ripping the hood off and pulling the tape from his mouth, a sense of elated relief flooded her body.

“Christian. Can you hear me?”

Groggy at first, delayed recognition shone over his face. There was dried blood under his nose and a bad cut on his forehead, his hair full of leaves and twigs, but her brother was very much alive.

“Lettie?”

“Hey, baby boy. You ready to get the hell out of here?”

Lettie shimmied aside as Remy plastered his face with kisses, blood, dirt, and all.

“Damn, I’m glad to see that stupid face.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

Removing the knife from her boot, Lettie began cutting the rope around Christian’s hands and legs.

“Remy, help me get him up. Hestia, can you secure these guys and get them to the trucks?”

Together, they got Christian out of the chair and left Hestia alone to zip tie their captives’ hands.

“I gotta be honest, I started to give up hope you guys would ever come.”

“I thought about it, but”—Lettie motioned to Remy—“I don’t think this one would have let me.” Lettie sighed, her voice falling. “We’ve had our hands full.”

For a moment, Lettie suspected he would pass out again, his body sagging, heavy, as they guided him out of the building and toward the others. This caused her to start slightly when Christian spoke up again, his voice raspy.

“Lettie, your hand.”

They both stared at their intertwined hands, the newly healed Command mark obvious, and suddenly Lettie’s head felt too heavy for her neck to lift to meet her brother’s eyes. Instead, she pointed her gaze forward in time to witness the world topple sideways without warning.

Time slowed as several people welcomed their approach toward the clearing outside, cheering at the physical achievement of their goal walking, or rather limping, forward. The group loading the trucks momentarily paused to also take them in, smiles spreading across their faces.

It was difficult to see through the throng of people, even several feet away, but Lettie did see. And too late, Lettie spotted the same sniveling soldier from before, the one who’d originally directed her to Christian’s whereabouts, except he was no longer sniveling, but eerily focused. Lettie could only watch on as he took advantage of the sudden distraction.

The man had not been restrained yet, and, swiftly, he rolled to his feet. At first, Lettie thought he was going to make a run for it, but instead he grabbed the gun from Kion’s holster. His bellow was indiscernible, but Lettie caught the word “traitor” before he aimed the gun at those within proximity to him and let off several shots.

The world sped back up and a thundering of different noises made it difficult to figure out what was what. Lettie gave Remy all of Christian’s weight and sprinted toward where she’d last seen the shooter, rifle at the ready. There was a flurry of people, some securing the other RCF members, some rising back up from cover. Relief ebbed as Lettie recognized the shooter’s body on the ground, unmoving, several bullets to the chest. Tristan stood over the man, the barrel of her gun still smoking. She leaned down, picked up the pistol, and turned toward Kion, handing the newest member of her unit his weapon back. He slipped it into his holster silently, hands shaking.

“Keep your damn gun secure at all times! Now get rid of the body and get out of my sight.” Tristan’s voice was sharp, not holding back.

The freshly recruited teen nodded and grabbed the shooter under the shoulders, dragging him away.

“Shit. You okay?”

“Fine. But I don’t think they are.” Tristan nodded to the side, and Lettie followed her gaze.

A crowd formed around two bodies splayed in the snow, their legs poking out from the circle. Lettie’s heart dropped at the sight of the sliver of stark gray uniform pants. It was two of the designated decoys.

The sound of her name morphed Lettie’s gait into a full sprint and she pushed through the crowd. The first body was a man she’d exchanged little words with, his eyes still, blood gushing from a hole in the side of his neck. Lettie looked over to the other body and had to stop herself from crying out. Jordyn held her hands clamped over a wound in Collins’s upper chest and Lettie dropped to her knees next to her.

“Lettie.”

“Hey. Hey. Hey, I’m here. Can you hear me? I’m here.”

Collins’s eyes fluttered weakly before her face slumped to the side, unmoving.

“Collins? Collins, wake up! Michelle, can you hear me?”

“Lettie, she’s losing a lot of blood. If she stays here, she’ll die. We’ve gotta move her.”

It took a moment for Lettie to make sense of the former RCF captain’s words, but once Jordyn repeated the word “die” a second time, Lettie snapped to. Carefully but swiftly, they lifted Michelle into one of the vacant Humvees, and Lettie’s ascent into the driver’s seat was halted by Lorenzo.

“I’ll drive. You need to keep her awake and stop the bleeding.”

She didn’t argue, nodding her head and returning to the back of the vehicle. Jordyn was already tucked inside, and Lettie moved to shut the doors when Nico stopped her.

“I’m comin’ with you.”

“No, I need you and Tristan to stay here and make sure everyone else gets back safely.”

Lettie thought he was going to resist but instead, Nico jumped back down from the trunk’s lip and slammed the doors closed behind him. Doors secured, Lorenzo took off, and Lettie was faced with Michelle’s motionless facial features looking back at her once again.

“We need to stop the bleeding. Do you have anything?”

Body reeking of adrenaline, Lettie ripped a first aid kit from below the bench and tore it open, pulling out all the gauze she could find. Collectively, the two packed the wound as best they could, but it felt like every time they moved to add more, the layers underneath were already soaked through.

“Can you lift her up?”

“What?”

“Lift her toward you so I can see underneath.”

Lettie did as instructed, and gently pulled Michelle toward her. The paling white tone of her skin and sweat beginning to form on her forehead was impossible not to notice.

“Okay, put her down, gently,” Jordyn instructed.

“What’d you see?”

“I don’t think the bullet passed through; it’s still in there. And this jostling sure as hell isn’t helping,” she exclaimed, wringing her hands tightly.

Lettie turned toward Lorenzo. “Lorenzo, keep it as steady as you can, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I think she’s going to need surgery, Lettie.”

Lettie pulled her radio off her vest and buzzed several times, first to Luthor and then to the clinic’s main line when he didn’t answer.

“Clinic. How can I help you?” The unremarkable bland voice took an even blander tone upon picking up, clearly having been interrupted in the middle of doing something.

“I need to speak with Luthor.”

“I’m sorry. He’s meeting with a patient right now.”

“Well, tell him it’s an emergency. Tell him it’s Lettie.”

“Command, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll go tell him right now.”

“And tell him to have a table ready. We’re on our way back and we’ve got someone with a severe gunshot wound and she’s losing lots of blood. Too much blood.”

“Yes, ma’am. Over.”

Tossing the radio down, Lettie returned her hands back to Michelle’s chest and didn’t take them away until they’d reached their destination.

Upon arrival, Jordyn threw the doors open as Lettie carried Michelle through the front doors of the clinic, all eyes falling on them. Thankfully, it was late, and the building was fairly empty. Lettie exhaled sharply, relieved as Luthor and another doctor jogged over to them with a gurney, and she laid Michelle down gently.

“Are you both okay?” Luthor quickly looked them over, while simultaneously examining Michelle.

“We’re fine. Is she going to be okay?”

His voice was strong and sure, contrasting the tremor in Lettie’s own.

“Her pulse is low. If the bullet is indeed still in there, we’ll need to get it out before it does any more damage.”

They reached the doors that Lettie knew led to the operating rooms, and Luthor pulled her arm as Michelle was led through the doors by a pair of staff members, the feeling of her being taken away from Lettie almost debilitating.

“Hey. We’re going to do everything we can for her, but I need you to stay out here until I come get you. Okay?”

Her nod sufficed as the door swung closed behind him. Lettie let herself be guided toward the bathroom and washed the blood from her hands, unconsciously going through the motions, until she found herself seated in the waiting room, next to Jordyn. They didn’t talk, didn’t exchange a word. Just waited.

Chapter
14

Eleven hours had passed with them tucked away in the hospital suite. Lettie knew down to the exact minute because she’d yet to leave the room since, her backside sore from the uncomfortable seat next to the cot. She was preoccupied with whispering into her radio when she noticed Collins’s eyes opening and silenced the device immediately. Racing to the bedside, Lettie grabbed one of Collins’s smaller hands in her own.

“Hey. Hey. How do you feel?”

“I feel like I got shot,” Collins responded sarcastically, her voice raspy.

“Makes sense. I know firsthand, it’s not fun and hurts like hell. Definitely a lot less cooler than the movies made it out to seem, huh? Here, drink this.”

The cup was cold to the touch as Lettie lifted it from the little table next to the bed and helped her take a few sips. A succession of small dry coughs followed, and Lettie gently rubbed Collins’s back until they subsided, water at the ready. When her breathing returned to normal, Collins continued.

“I have to admit, if I’d known all it would take for you to speak to me again was getting shot, I probably would have jumped in front of a bullet a long time ago.”

“Funny,” Lettie replied, unamused. “Don’t worry, if you ever scare me like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Payback hurts, huh?”

Puzzled, Lettie waited patiently for Collins to explain, her tone and face turning serious, the space between her eyebrows scrunching up.

“Do you know how worried I was when I heard what happened at the church, what Lydecker did to you? I mean, Lettie, I elbowed a guard in the face because no one down there would tell me if you were alive or dead!” She paused, seeming to travel back in time, and then added exasperatedly, “If it weren’t for Nico, I’d have gone crazy in that cell.”

Truthfully, Lettie hadn’t given it any thought before, but the irony of their role reversal offered a new perspective. Her own current position at Collins’s bedside was still better off than the other woman’s previous one of bondage. Lettie’s mouth fixed into a thin line, grasping for words.

“He’s a real one, Nico is.”

“Indeed, he is.”

Lettie was convinced she’d been let off the hook, when Collins enveloped her hand in between both of hers, squeezing tight.

“Lettie, I need to tell you something.”

The flowing of her own blood was suddenly hyper audible, and Lettie rubbed her palm across the back of her neck, anxious of what Collins needed to unburden.

“You lost a lot of blood and Luthor gave you the good stuff. You should lay back and rest.”

Collins obliged Lettie halfheartedly, but continued, not taking her eyes off the woman standing over her.

“I’m so sorry about your mom.” She let that sit between them and then inhaled a long sigh, continuing. “I knew he was power hungry, but I swear to you that I never knew about the bombings, any of them, let alone that he’d do something like that to Salt Lake.”

“I know, baby, I know.” Lettie rubbed her thumb over Collins’s knuckles, her own elbows leaning against the bed. “He’s your dad, M. It’s not easy to turn against our parents, whether we know what they’re capable of or not. Trust me, I know.”

“It’s not just that though.” She took a second, muddy green eyes searching Lettie’s. “That day at the jail. When you looked at me like…like that. My whole chest froze. I don’t want to feel like there’s a wall between us ever again, like we’re on different sides. I should have told you before. Yes, Koenig raised me, but he isn’t my real father. I mean, he’s not my biological father.”

Lettie remained quiet, fixated on Collins’s next words.

“My real parents were killed a week after Impact Day, some random looters fought my dad over his car and when my mom tried to intervene, they shot them both.”

“M…I’m so sorry you had to see that.” Lettie squeezed her hand hard.

“It wasn’t all bad after that, to be honest. I thought we had lucked out when Ivan took me and my younger sister in. He gave us everything we ever needed: food, clothes, a place to live. Then when Tarah and I were old enough, he made us both captains in the Front. I mean, he’s the reason I was even able to study medicine.”

She continued, answering Lettie’s unspoken question.

“Ivan’s so paranoid, that when we left Cypheria he left Tarah and a few trusted supervisors behind to report back to him. I was scared enough when I decided to stay behind the first time, but now, with everything going on…I’m terrified of what will happen to her without me there.”

“Scoot over.”

Careful of Collins’s IV, Lettie climbed into the bed with her, slipping her arm behind her shoulder and pulling the smaller woman into her chest. The familiar smell of vanilla curled into her nostrils, and Lettie breathed in deeply, kissing the top of Collins’s head.

“I can’t promise we’ll be able to get her back right away, but I will do everything in my power to make sure we try like hell. Once he’s up and walking, I’ll have Christian see about trying to get an encrypted transmission out to Tarah.”

Collins jumped in her arms. “Christian! How is he? Is he okay? I should have asked before.”

“He’s fine. A little roughed up, but he’ll live. That does remind me though”—Lettie ran her free hand over her knuckles once more—“I owe you a thank you.”

“For what?”

“I was too stupid and stubborn to say it before, but you didn’t have to throw yourself into that mission, and you certainly didn’t have to convince the others to either. Especially after the awful things I said to you in the Icebox—all of which I wish I could take back. So, thank you.”

“Know how you can really thank me?”

“How’s that?”

“By kissing me already.”

Complying, Lettie bent her head and was met halfway, their mouths locking together. Collins’s lips were chapped, but Lettie was happy to assist, brushing her tongue over them gently. Abruptly, Collins pulled back first, their foreheads still touching.

“Let’s make a pact going forward: no more secrets and no more trying to make amends to each other before it gets us both killed, yeah?”

“Agreed,” Lettie muttered, taking her mouth again.

***

Time passed quickly after that. When Lettie wasn’t preoccupied with Command meetings or holed up in her office, she was at the clinic with Collins, brainstorming and using the other woman as a personal sounding board, plenty of tender loving care sprinkled in between. It wasn’t until the fifth day of being held for observation, and after much convincing from both women, that Luthor finally discharged his second-most stubborn patient into the care of his first.

As Lettie entered the newly bare-boned room, a backpack of clothes positioned over her shoulder, Collins turned to her, her arm fitted snugly in a cotton sling. She moved awkwardly and Lettie couldn’t help but chuckle at the doctor-now-turned-patient.

“It hasn’t even been a full day and I already want to rip it off.”

Closing the space between them, Lettie embraced her, careful of the sling.

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Whatever it takes to go home, I guess.” She sighed, taking her hand, and Lettie prayed hers wasn’t too clammy.

“Speaking of home, I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

Following the bombing, it’d been one of her top priorities to ensure those who’d lost their homes were relocated to adequate alternate housing. That included those who’d previously resided in the mall, the remaining of the structure taking significant damage in the fallout. Since Christian’s rescue, Lettie had resorted to carrying a pair of identical golden keys in her vest pocket, waiting for the right moment.

“We’ve finally been able to move everyone from the mall, and crews are saying it’ll be a while before the building is habitable again. Feel free to say no and I’ll have a car take you wherever you decide to stay, if that’s what you want.”

Lettie gnawed on her bottom lip, removing the key from its pocket and holding it out toward Collins.

“But I figured if you weren’t quite sure where you’d be staying, maybe my place could be an option. Ya know, while you heal up and get accommodations figured out.” Lettie clamped her jaw closed, willing herself to shut up.

Collins took the key and looked between it and Lettie, eyes astute.

“Leticia Valentine, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“In so many words, yeah.”

Twirling the key between her fingers, Collins smiled brightly, and once again, Lettie’s lungs remembered how to breathe. Before she knew it, Collins’s lips were embracing her own, and Lettie moved closer as familiar hands played at the back of her neck.

Collins feigned pointing her eyes to the ceiling, tapping her lips, conversing out loud to herself. “Command as my personal nurse, at my beck and call while I’m on the mend. I could certainly get used to the idea.”

Their laughter came forward as a unionized burst.

“Maybe I can borrow your white coat and really get into the part.”

“Maybe.” Her gaze turned dark, a musky lithe entering her voice. “I have a better idea, though, one that involves a lot less clothing.”

Intrigued was an understatement and Lettie could feel her skin prickle at the visual that blossomed, but deflected.

“Let’s focus on getting both your arms back and then we can explore that idea further.”

Lettie stuffed the bag of medicines provided by Luthor into the backpack and threw her arms through the straps.

“Ready?”

“Please, yes. Let’s go home.”

***

Upon the couple’s arrival home, Lettie was forced to physically shield Collins from Max, the shepherd overjoyed at their joint presence and desperate to show a mending Collins the full extent of her love.

Despite Lettie’s previous vocal opposition, it wasn’t long before they settled underneath the covers of the bed, Collins’s brace abandoned on the nightstand and a mound of pillows carefully propping up her arm. They kissed each other until their lips were sore, eventually falling asleep with Lettie’s arm tucked under Collins’s neck, her head lolling on her chest as Lettie stared at the ceiling. It took even less time before the gentle purr of snores traveled up to Lettie, and the familiarity of the sound reminded her how much she’d missed her. In Collins, Lettie saw reflected the exhaustion that she, too, felt and attempted to hide, but even lying there, the most content she’d felt in a while, sleep evaded her entirely. When she finally tired of hoping for sleep to come, Lettie quietly slipped her arm from underneath Collins, careful to avoid stirring her. Lantern in hand, she made her way to the kitchen, softly closing the door behind her.

“Hey, girl.” Two good scratches to Max’s favorite place under her chin convinced the shepherd to follow her from the room. “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

Throwing Max a piece of the apple she’d managed to find in the kitchen, Lettie plopped onto the couch, giving the lantern a decent hand crank before glimpsing at her watch. It was half past one, but she knew of a few people that would still be awake. Lettie grabbed her radio from the counter and returned to her seat.

“Christian, you there?”

It took a few moments and Lettie was about to buzz another channel when the radio blared to life. She adjusted the volume so as not to disturb Collins.

“Hey. Give me one sec, okay?” His voice was muffled along with sounds of movement. When he finally returned to the line, his voice had cleared a bit. “I’m here, what’s going on?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, no. Remy’s here though. She was just…nursing me up.”

“Well, I was going to ask how you’re feeling, but I think that answers that and then some. Thanks for that overshare though.”

“You’re welcome. Everything okay?”

Christian’s tone was antsy, revealing his underlying question of why she was calling him so late, so she hurried to the point.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll let you go. But I just wanted to see if there’s any update on Collins’s sister.”

“Unfortunately, no, nothing new to report. You already know I was able to find a Tarah Collins when I hacked into RCF’s main database, and she’s definitely logged into the mainframe recently, so I can only assume she’s very much alive. But I’ve sent like three encrypted messages to her account and still nothing. I’m sorry.”

“I understand, thanks. I’ll let her know. Good night.”

“Night.”

Punching in the numbers by heart, Lettie switched to a different channel.

“Nico?” she inquired, depressing the delivery button.

His response was immediate. “Yo. You good?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Just haven’t seen you in forever is all.”

The initial worry abandoned his voice and left in its place a familiar whimsically lax tone.

“Aww, you miss me don’t cha?”

“There’s the misguided optimism I’m used to.”

“You hurt me. What you doin’ up anyway? I hit Hestia some hours ago and she reckoned you was knocked out cold.”

“Not quite. We’ve been laying around the apartment most of the day and I don’t know why, I mean I’m downright exhausted, but I can’t fall asleep.”

“We?”

“Yeah, Collins was released today. She’s staying with me while she heals up.”

There was a short pause in which Lettie thought the connection had dropped, but Nico spoke once more, his staccato voice transmitting through clearly.

“Got you. How’s she gettin’ along?”

She looked toward the closed bedroom door. “She’s fine. Has to wear a sling for a little bit, but nothing too terrible.”

“That’s what’s up.”

They talked until the status light on Lettie’s radio blinked at her, indicating it needed to be charged.

“I should let you go, my radio’s about to die and I actually think your rambling is making me drowsy, so thank you.”

“I do what I can. See ya tomorrow.”

“Good night, Nic.”

“Night, L.”

Contradicting her previous claim, Lettie spent the rest of the night on the couch, Max and a pile of status reports keeping her company. Surprising her, memories of her first home in Salt Lake, just a few blocks away, materialized in front of her—Lettie engrossed in some shabby paperback while her dad sat back on the couch, lazily leafing through various documents and reports. Junior would be roaming the streets with his friends and Christian would be holed up in his room, tinkering. Those moments sitting in her father’s company while he worked and aimlessly whistled tunes only he and Lettie knew were some of Lettie’s favorite memories. A rarity now, the peace Lettie recalled in those moments escaped her, leaving her instead with reminders of simpler times, her new role as Command beckoning forth ghosts she’d rather let rest. Dismissing the thoughts, Lettie ducked her head and focused on her work.

It wasn’t until the first rays of sunlight crept through the floor-to-ceiling windows that she left the mound of folders and her e-pad, and carefully slipped back into bed. Collins curled back into her arms naturally and turned her head inward, mumbling into Lettie’s neck, her voice husky with sleep.

“Where’ve you been? Is everything okay?”

“Fine. Was just looking over some files. The council is meeting in the morning and I needed to catch up on a few things,” Lettie responded, sliding her fingers over the line of Collins’s jaw and placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “Are you going to be okay while I’m gone? I can always push the meeting back.”

“Lettie, I got shot in the shoulder. The bullet didn’t hit any major organs, and I’ve got enough pain meds here to take down twenty Maxes. I think I’ll manage for a few hours on my own.” She slid her hand under Lettie’s shirt and ran her fingers lightly down her chest, the movement eliciting a shudder from Lettie. “Besides,” Collins continued, “if this is going to work, I refuse to be a distraction from what really matters. I’m not the only one counting on you.”

Collins was right and as much as the dutiful leader in Lettie agreed, she knew that her heart was not as on board with the statement as her head. Her mom’s words the night of Isaac’s capture reverberated clearly: duty and love seldom complement each other.

***

“Quit it.”

“What?”

Collins swatted her hand dramatically and Lettie removed it quickly from the other woman’s chest, but only as far as her thigh.

“I thought you asked me over here to get my opinion.”

“I did,” Lettie responded, groaning, heaving herself back into her own seat. “And I think we’ve made some pretty good headway given we’ve been at it for two hours.” She squeezed Collins around the waist with both arms, causing her to drop the pen in her hand with a loud thud on the desk. “Can you blame me for wanting to take a break?”

“Blame you? No.” Hands planted on the armrests of the large executive chair, Collins grinded her thighs and bottom into Lettie’s groin area. The affected woman’s exhale came hard as Collins twirled around to face her and dropped the pen in Lettie’s lap. “Expect more? Yes. We’ve got at least a dozen more pages to review.”

Truthfully, Lettie should have been thanking Collins; in the past few weeks, she’d found that Collins was one of the few people Lettie could bounce ideas off of and receive unwavering honesty from, unconvoluted by her new role. Truth was, outside of Nico, Tristan, and her brothers, Lettie found it difficult to ignore the developing formality with which people she’d known for years now expelled when addressing her.

A loud knock reverberated at the door, distracting them further. It was a quarter past midnight and for a moment, Lettie’s heart jumped, anxiety at the unexpected intrusion. Remembering the three sets of very capable guards between the main elevator and the executive office calmed her slightly.

“Come in.”

Collins had stealthily but quickly repositioned herself into the chair next to Lettie, both women facing the door, intrigued by their late-night visitor.

In walked Nico, and Lettie was momentarily fazed that it’d been days since she’d last seen him, a fact made even more prevalent by the dogged air of authority he wore, as if her childhood friend had aged overnight. At first, Lettie thought it was the covering of fresh snowfall decorating his shoulders and head that was behind Nico’s annoyed expression, but when he dragged another person through the door after him Lettie’s face fell flat in understanding.

“I’m sorry to be interruptin’.” Nico stopped short of fully entering, unsure of who all were present in the room.

Immediately, Lettie waved her hand, beckoning the two to come closer. “It’s just us, Nico, you can speak freely.”

He abided, pushing the disgruntled girl into one of the chairs in front of the big desk and took up position behind her, relaxing only slightly.

“Guards was called out to the Depot after some of them vendors were goin’ on ’bout some missing items, stuff they say been stolen. The area was right quiet by the time my guys made it out there, but they caught up with a outfit that matched the description. Some of ’em bailed and we still workin’ on catchin’ ’em, but this one here had this when we caught her.”

Nico set a black plain backpack out on Lettie’s desk, open wide enough that both she and Collins could easily see inside of it. Inside were various wares, jewelry, and packages of food. Lettie stood up and pushed the bag to the side of the desk, leaving a clear path between Aida and herself.

“Is this yours?”

For the first time since she’d been towed into the room, Aida’s eyes left the floor and met Lettie’s. Her brown curly hair was matted to her forehead from the snow flurry, and she wore thick liner around her eyes, ending in a dramatic flick at the crease of her eye.

“Yeah.”

“And what do you need with all that? I just spoke with Mrs. Raza last week and personally made sure everyone in her care has ample food, clothing, and toiletries, so I know it’s got nothing to do with a lack of supplies. So, what is it, Aida?”

“Orphans.”

Lettie shook her head, confused. “What?”

“You said, ‘everyone in her care.’ You mean orphans.” Aida’s words were tight and clipped.

Collins shifted her weight next to her, but Lettie refused to allow her gaze to drop from Aida.

“I asked you a question.”

When it became clear that she was not going to get pity or a rise out of Lettie, Aida finally responded. “Some of the older kids take what we gather and sell it on the cheap.” She shrugged her shoulders, nonchalantly. “They give us a cut of what they make and then some.”

Lettie could only imagine what “then some” meant for a bunch of adolescents but didn’t allow the thought to distract her. She tipped her head toward Nico, not breaking her gaze from Aida’s.

“You’ll relay the names of those in charge of this little side hustle to Nico immediately, and I don’t want to see you hanging out with that group again, is that clear?”

Silence permeated the air as Aida balled her hands into fists on the armrest but didn’t make a peep, her gaze back on the floor.

“I said, is that clear?”

When she refused to answer for the second time, Nico spoke up from behind her instead.

“I done already tried getting’ the names outta her. She wouldn’t spill so brought her here.”

“I won’t snitch on my friends!”

Lettie’s eyes fell back on Aida, who looked like she wanted to jump out of her seat, but Nico’s hand on her shoulder abated her.

“I hear the shit they already call me behind my back. Terrorist, Unabomber, jihadi, but I won’t be called a snitch too.”

“Friends?” Lettie made a show of looking around the area surrounding their group. “Do you see them here? They clearly haven’t gone to the same lengths to protect you.”

The look of pride fell from Aida’s face, her logic momentarily shook.

“Nico, take her to the Icebox. Ensure she’s fed and put in her own cell. Maybe she’ll be more willing to speak about these ‘friends’ in the morning.”

Nico moved to help Aida up by grabbing her bicep, and for the first time that night, Lettie glimpsed a hint of real fear in her eyes. Suddenly, Collins’s hand fell onto Lettie’s forearm, caressing it firmly.

“If I may, I think I have a better idea.”

Collins made her way from around the desk and leaned against the front edge.

Lettie nodded, patiently and curiously awaiting her follow up.

“That’s some really good stitch work you got there.” She pointed to a sewn spot at Aida’s knee, the mismatch color of the patch contrasting with the original jean material. “You do that yourself?”

Aida’s confusion mirrored Lettie’s, but she answered, her voice quiet, but even. “Yeah.”

Collins nodded her head, more to herself than in acknowledgment of the girl’s response.

“I have a proposition for you. Nico will take you back to the orphanage tonight on two conditions. The first is that you promise to stay put the rest of the night. The second is that for the next three months, you shadow myself and a few of the other doctors at the clinic. When you’re not sleeping, eating, or in class, you’re at that clinic. Those are my terms. Deal or no deal?”

Lettie watched as Aida glanced between Nico’s hand on her shoulder and Lettie hunched over her desk, large brown eyes finally landing on Collins.

“Deal.”

“Good. You’ll meet me at our place seven sharp for breakfast and we’ll head to the clinic together. I’ll give you more details then.” Collins didn’t wait for a reply, taking her seat once again, clearly pleased with herself.

Lettie chimed in next. “I’ll tell Hestia to expect you tomorrow. I advise not being late. Thank you, Nico.”

Nico allowed Aida to walk out on her own, and Lettie waited until they were both gone before turning toward Collins, sitting on the desk, and propping her leg up.

“Want to tell me what that was about? How do you know she won’t just run off as soon as Nico drops her at home?”

“I’ve just got a feeling.”

Not urging the matter any further, Lettie was suddenly taken off guard as Collins placed her hand on Lettie’s inner thigh, a dark look spreading over her face. She continued, the hand moving north.

“Now, what was it before you were saying about a break?”

Chapter
15

At first, Lettie was positive that the sound originated from the lingerings of a dream. But as the booming grew louder, she jolted awake in bed, aware of the very real noise coming from outside the bedroom door. Confusion at Hestia’s absence in dealing with whoever was making such a fuss sparked a brief annoyance, but nonetheless, cursing under her breath, Lettie made her way from the bedroom to the front door. She didn’t bother checking the peephole, her sour mood ready to tear whoever was on the other side a new asshole. Any animosity Lettie harbored toward her awakener disappeared upon opening the door.

Before her stood Nico, Tristan, and Nyla, shoving their way into the room without so much as a greeting. Their mere presence wasn’t what left Lettie speechless though. All three of her guests were done up in the fanciest clothing Lettie’d ever seen them in. Nico wore a three-piece suit, his biceps bulging against the shiny blue material. Nyla was outfitted in a more casual two-piece ensemble, matched perfectly to the wild Akwete-patterned dress that Tristan bore, matching head wrap and shawl placed carefully over her head and shoulders. Her long locs were stacked elegantly on top of her head, little golden links scattered throughout the tower of tresses.

In the midst of all the commotion, Lettie managed a peek into the hallway.

“Where’s Hestia?”

“She won’t be mindin’ you tonight. She done been…relieved.”

As he spoke, Nico pulled her back into the little entryway and closed the door behind them. Lettie couldn’t be sure, but she thought she could spot the hints of a fresh cut both from his hair and beard, both finished off with a potent-smelling oil, the light glinting off his little tight coils every time he turned his head.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Imma be in charge of ya security tonight, madam.” Nico gave a low, deep, dramatic bow toward Lettie, his slim suit straining against the movement.

“I’m sure she’s really honored, Nic. Now onto more important matters.”

Lettie barely registered the package being thrown at her in time to catch it. She glared at Tristan, before holding the hanger above her head, studying its contents. Beneath the protective plastic hung a pair of black slacks and matching black suit jacket. The ensemble was basic enough, a stark white dress shirt and black tie underneath. Traditional and simple, no frills.

“What are—” Lettie stared back at the trio and saw that Nyla held a pair of the smoothest black oxford shoes she’d ever seen; Lettie didn’t have to look at the tag to guess that they were her size.

“We’ve been instructed to get you into that,” Tristan stated, pointing to the clothes in her arms. “I’d prefer ya do so voluntarily, but I’m also willing to use force if need be.”

Desperate, confused, and slightly terrified, Lettie looked between the three of them again, looking for an ally, and found a united front instead.

Half an hour later, after a quick run through the rigged shower, Nyla helped her into the lined suit pants and charcoal button-up shirt, thankfully paying extra care to her stitches and bruises.

Though it took several swats at Tristan’s hands before her friend would stop thrusting globs of eyeliner and mascara onto her face, when Lettie finally looked into the mirror, she was pleasantly content. Aside from a few scratches on her neck, Tristan was able to cover up the remaining bruises on Lettie’s face, and the suit took care of the rest. Noticeable was the grisly sight of her hands, knuckles still badly bruised, and even a higher being could have done little for the dark circles under her eyes, but Lettie certainly wasn’t going to voice any complaints out loud in the presence of her diligent team of stylists. Thankfully, none of them were bold enough to attempt to touch her hair, and Lettie was grateful as she ran mousse and gel through the curly thick fibers, applying the finishing touches to the slicked-back mane with a bristle brush.

When she reappeared in the living room, the trio had made themselves comfortable on the sofas and gotten into the liquor cabinet. A cup of piping-hot amber liquid made its way into her hands and Lettie took a long swig. Nico’s take on a hot toddy warmed her chest as she plopped down into one of the broken-in lounge chairs.

“So, are you guys finally going to tell me what the hell is going on? Why are we dressed like idiots?”

Nico met her eyes, appearing ready to spill everything, when Tristan threw a pillow at him, speaking louder than necessary.

“The answer is no. But the sooner you’re ready, the sooner we can head out, and the sooner you’ll be one step closer to the answers you seek.”

They erupted into a fit of giggles at her failed attempt at a whimsical genie accent, the liquid in the mugs bringing out the goofy side she reserved for those closest to her.

“Lead the way.”

It felt strange to not be wearing her tactical vest, and Lettie squeezed her coat around her waist to try to lessen the absence, having been forced to don an elegant brown overcoat in lieu of her usual bomber. The surprises kept coming when instead of leading them toward the front of the building, Nico took several more turns. Eventually they stood before one of the black SUVs she and Collins had sat in only a few weeks ago on their way home from the clinic. On cue, a guard jumped from the passenger seat, his assault rifle dangling at his side, and opened the door for them to enter.

Lettie directed her attention to Nico. “Is this really necessary?”

“For tonight, sho is. Now gone and get in.”

As they piled in and took off, Lettie immediately knew they were headed toward the convention center, and she internally racked her brain trying to determine if she’d forgotten about a last-minute meeting. But that wouldn’t explain the fancy clothing or personal escort.

As guessed, the lone caravan finally pulled up to the front entrance of the makeshift headquarters, the square quiet, and they quickly hustled their way inside the building. Lettie had given up on asking what they were doing and instead allowed herself to be escorted to the second floor of the building. Like most of the other floors, the elevators opened up to a large hallway big enough for their entire entourage to walk side by side. Finally, after walking for several minutes, they reached a large set of double doors, each flanked by a set of guards, and Lettie read the sign above them.

What had previously read “Mendenhall Chambers,” the first word had been crossed out and painted over in thick, dark letters, leaving “Valentine Chambers.” Lettie had never been to this particular part of the building, and her confusion deepened. As she was about to repeat the line of questioning she’d been echoing all night, the two closest guards opened the doors and a round of applause sounded, so loud that it reverberated into the otherwise empty hallway.

Genuine surprise found Lettie frozen in the doorway, taking in everyone and everything. The conference room’s giant chandelier had been turned down halfway, leaving several corners lackluster. Even such, several large candelabras had been utilized to set a softer mood, with the center of the room reserved for a makeshift dance floor and a trio of instruments providing a rhythmic background track nearby. Outside of several small service areas designated for drinks and food, the setup was simple, with various-sized chairs and tables set up in an expanding circular pattern around the room, all seats currently vacant.

A room full of brown, black, and beige faces ushered Lettie forward, every eye in the room shifted toward her, causing a sudden line of warmth to spread from her lower back up to her neck. Lettie bit her lip hard, massaging the heat with her hand. She tried her best to display what she could only hope was a look of appreciation, disguising her inner anxiety at being put on the spot.

As if on cue, her eyes caught movement off toward the side of the room, and Lettie instantly calmed, muscles relaxing. Collins replaced the recently deserted spot next to Lettie, Nico and the others having joined the rest of the elegantly fashioned crowd. Their departure went unnoticed, though, as Lettie longingly took in Collins’s choice of clothing. Where the dress she donned early on at Lettie’s mother’s banquet in honor of her father flowed and draped around her, tonight’s ensemble was its exact opposite. The dark green velvet fabric hugged her chest and hips, the waterfall cut longer in the back than in the front and stopping around her knees. Coupled with a strapless finish, the dress produced a smooth, seamless look that complemented Collins’s already naturally curvy figure. Bringing the look to a stunning conclusion were the emerald necklace she’d worn previously, dark black heels, and a head full of flawlessly executed loose brown curls. The way she wrapped her arm through Lettie’s, hand tightly gripping her bicep over her suit jacket, was a funny juxtaposition to the assertiveness with which Collins began to lead them forward. Collins moved as if born to be there, in that room, in that exact moment.

Lettie’s desire to wrap her lover in her arms and whisk them off behind one of the closed doors surged, but instead, she let Collins lead her through the crowd and was set upon immediately with congratulations and varying kind words. Gratefully, Collins remained at Lettie’s side the entire time, making her own humorous quips and exposing just how she’d finessed a high-stakes position in RCF. Among the constant hops from conversation to conversation, disallowing her the chance to vocalize it, Lettie found herself hoping Collins knew how much her presence meant to her.

Half an hour later, Lettie excused them from a discussion about the success of hydroponics with LuAnn and Luce, the suit tie of the latter matched perfectly to the dress print of the former. When they finally did clear the main conglomerate, Lettie pulled Collins after her, making a beeline for a corner of the room that seemed to be less populous. Unbothered about etiquette, Lettie pulled the other woman into her, careful to hold her emptying wine glass away from Collins’s beautiful ensemble with one hand and using the other to cup her neck. The embrace was reciprocated as their lips finally met, several seconds passing before they parted once more.

Lettie nodded to the center of the room.

“You are really something, you know that? I’m assuming you’re the culprit behind all this?”

She slid her hand down Collins’s waist, keeping her close, and Collins patted the spot on her shoulder.

“Well, Nico told me about how these coronation things usually go, and I knew you didn’t get that chance because of everything that was going on, so ya know, I figured better late than never. Do you like it?”

“It’s not a coronation,” Lettie chuckled. “There is no royalty around here.”

Collins latched onto her jacket lapels, rolling her eyes, and then grew serious.

“Speak for yourself. But for real though. Do you like it?”

The genuine concern for Lettie’s opinion that glimmered in Collins’s stare about broke her heart in two.

“I love it, I really do. Thank you.”

Lettie’s compliance was immediate as Collins brought her lips up to Lettie’s once again, not shying away from lightly stroking her tongue over her bottom lip. Nearby, someone cleared their throat loudly, and too quickly, Collins broke the kiss, turning in the direction of the disruption.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Luthor apologized, removing his glasses and wiping them on his shirt, clearly unsure of what to do with his hands and more importantly, where to look. Next to him, Christian let out a goofy chuckle, taking a long sip from his own glass and then passing it to Remy next to him, who followed suit. Like everyone else, they all wore curated fits of shiny fabrics and done-up buttons.

“Not at all. I was actually about to get a refill. Want to join me, Remy?”

Remy lifted the now empty glass and shrugged, nonchalantly. “Sure.”

As the two left, Lettie quickly embraced both Luthor and Christian in turn.

The head medical chief motioned to the room around them.

“Turned out well, right?”

Christian nodded, agreeing with him.

“So, you two had a hand in this as well, huh?”

“Yeah. Your girlfriend has a convincing way of talking people into doing things.”

Lettie spotted Collins at the bar easily and nodded in total agreement. “That she does. I won’t lie though—it’s nice to be with everyone in the same place and not have it be about business as usual.”

“I agree. It’s been a rough few months for everyone.”

The gaze in his eyes grew muddled, the bags under his eyes reminding Lettie that Luthor was almost her mother’s age.

Picking up on the lull in mood, too, Christian immediately defaulted to his usual deflection.

“Do you guys remember at Mom’s inauguration when Lettie thought it would be a good idea to take a sip of everyone’s drinks while they weren’t looking and got so drunk she couldn’t walk?”

“I don’t think I could forget it. And then you and Junior tried sneaking her out the back only to have her vomit right in front of Regina.”

“How long were you grounded after that, L? Like three months?”

As they chuckled, Lettie crossed her arms, feigning offense.

“You two are so funny it hurts.”

As Christian’s snickering finally died down, Luthor’s stoic tone returned.

“Seriously, though, you two have come a long way—been through as much shit as any of us. Your mother would be proud of both of you; your father would be proud.”

Though Lettie had no words worthy enough to respond, any chance to do so was dashed.

“Sorry to break up the party.”

Junior’s slurred voice was obvious, and Lettie looked for him over Christian’s shoulder, the others following suit. Fashionably tardy, Junior wore a dark brown silk tuxedo complete with a ruffled gold handkerchief, and he was flanked on either side by two unremarkable men. The woman under his shoulder wore a very revealing V-neck, and her eyes drooped in half-open slits, pupils completely dilated. She wavered heavily when her elder brother removed his support, bent at the waist, and completed a dramatic bow directed at Lettie.

“Command.”

Their trio must have worn similar facial expressions at the recent arrivals because when he straightened back up he wore an elaborate smirk. Even Lettie’s own surprise couldn’t prevent her from scoffing audibly at the address.

“Come on. I’ll admit I’ve been MIA, but you didn’t think I’d miss my own sister’s inauguration party, did you?”

“Of course not, Junior. It’s not a real party without a few surprises and unwelcome guests.”

Slightly taken aback by Luthor’s uncharacteristically curt jab, Lettie didn’t miss the glare between both men as she and Christian embraced their eldest brother, Luthor standing his ground.

“I’m glad you’re here. And Luthor’s right—the fact that I get to be here with both of my brothers is for sure the best kind of surprise.”

It disappeared as soon as it arose, but for an instant Lettie saw a ping of the boy who’d crawled underneath tables with her at their mom’s inauguration and defended her against Malachi when he’d tried to discipline them.

“I didn’t come empty-handed.” He cleared his throat. “Brought one of those surprises I’m apparently so well-known for.”

They all watched as he pulled a small silk pouch out of his pocket. Out of that, he carefully let unravel a necklace, and Lettie recognized the piece immediately. The golden chain was a simple thing, but it was the small amethyst jewel bordered by five smaller sapphire gems that held the necklace’s true beauty.

“Mom.”

“She had it on when…when the bombs hit.”

Even Christian couldn’t help but be moved by the gesture. “She never took that thing off.”

Lettie knew from many retellings from both her parents that their dad had given the necklace to their mom after they’d found out they were pregnant with Lola, before she’d been born still. An emerald for all of them, their mother the center of the flower.

“She would have wanted you to have it.”

Junior motioned for Lettie to spin around and she obeyed, trying to prevent tears from brimming over as he redid the clasp around her neck. The coldness of the metal against her skin made her shiver, and Lettie wrapped her fingers delicately around the gems.

“Thank you for this. Seriously, thank you so much.”

“Of course, you deserve it, little sister.”

The endearing moment was interrupted as Collins and Remy returned to the group. Collins excused them, grabbed Lettie mid-sentence, and whisked her toward the main entrance. Lettie tried to keep eyes on Junior, but he and his posse disappeared into the crowd as quickly as they’d emerged. It wasn’t until Lettie registered the word “speech” tumble out of Collins’s mouth that she was pulled back to the current conversation.

“What?”

“It’s time for you to address everyone.”

“Uh, no?”

“Everyone wants to hear from you!”

“You didn’t tell me I’d have to give a speech! Jesus, haven’t there been enough surprises for one night? What the hell am I supposed to say?”

“Just, ya know, thank everyone for coming. Show them the woman that stepped up for our colony after the bombing, the woman I see every day.”

“That’s different, though, that’s all adrenaline and they’re not you!” As they neared the edges of the crowd, Lettie could hear her heart beating in her ears. Lettie tugged Collins’s arm, momentarily halting their trek. “I’m not her, I…I’m not my mom,” she whispered, vehemently.

“No one expects you to be. Be yourself, be Lettie.”

Placated, Lettie let Collins lead her into the opening and attempted to control her breathing as she called for everyone’s attention.

Giving Lettie one last quick peck on the cheek, she lingered, whispering into her ear, “You got this, babe.”

Lettie took a moment to compose herself, allowing Collins to join the rest of the crowd, and with a final deep breath, words tumbled out of her mouth.

***

The deafening silence as Lettie finally closed the door behind them lifted a weight off her shoulders, and she took a moment to soak in finally being home.

Silence.

Lettie glanced around the space quizzically, finally whistling for Max to come, but was met with quiet.

“Just you and me, love,” Collins interrupted.

Lettie followed her voice into the living room, huffing down onto the couch next to her. Words were unnecessary, the question in Lettie’s eyes obvious.

“Hestia took Aida and Max hunting, and she thought Jordyn could tag along too. The two of them seem to be getting along really well.”

At Nico’s urging, Jordyn had been tapped as Collins’s personal security guard upon returning to work at the clinic. As predicted, it took several days for Collins to adjust to the idea of having a new shadow around the clock. Behind closed doors, she urged Lettie to overrule the decision, citing the unfairness to Jordyn. The nature of the two women’s relationship had been disclosed to Lettie one particularly jovial night in bed, Collins describing the mismatched pair’s halfhearted attempt at dating before falling into the comfortability of friendship while she lay in Lettie’s lap, her hands knitted through her hair. After enduring Collins’s initial dissent, coupled with Jordyn’s willingness to take on the role, it became clear that her beloved was happy to have a constant familiar face around, the feeling mutual.

Coupled with the fact that since moving into the homey apartment three months prior, Aida and the Australian shepherd had been inseparable, Lettie was not surprised to hear about the joint expedition. Lettie choked out a laugh at the thought of Hestia playing dog sitter. Aida she could handle, but Lettie recalled being the lone witness to Hestia jumping at the sight of Max barreling down the hallway toward her, and she whispered a silent invocation for the woman.

“You really thought of everything tonight, didn’t you?”

“I tried,” Collins replied, shrugging, and relaying a coy know-it-all sideways glance.

“How can I ever thank you?”

Collins didn’t have a chance to answer before Lettie’d taken her lips in her own. Collins’s warmth entrapped Lettie as her tongue played over hers, hand gripping her neck enough that Lettie could feel the thump of a pulse in her hand, whose exactly, she was unsure.

A dual feeling of surprise and unquenched longing panged when Collins pulled away abruptly and Lettie opened her eyes to find beautiful green orbs staring back at her. Collins’s voice broke the thrall.

“Mhmm, yeah, no, you are not getting off that easy. We still haven’t talked about earlier!”

Lettie knew the line of questioning was inevitable, but she still groaned to hear it come to fruition.

“What about it?”

“That was not what I had in mind when I told you to say a few words. Your timing was unexpected, is all.”

“You weren’t the only one,” Lettie responded, flattening herself against the couch and leaning her head back.

Effortlessly, Lettie’s mind flashed back to just an hour prior.

“I am so thankful for you all coming out tonight. I can never repay your trust or honor my mother by filling her large shoes,” Lettie began, her voice hitching slightly in the middle of her sentence, “but I’m going to try to do both.”

There were a couple yips in the crowd, and they bolstered her confidence, convinced that no one had heard the waver.

“In continuing my mother’s legacy and her long-standing desire for peace, I’ll be introducing the Alliance Initiative in the coming weeks. Once the council has a chance to review and iron out logistics, I intend to send out envoys to the neighboring colonies. With the right approach and some luck, I am hopeful we can not only construct new allyships, but also advance OS and Salt Lake’s position as a force to be reckoned with, both on- and off-world.”

It was not difficult to recall the speech word for word, and even easier to decipher the various emotions in the crowd afterward: mostly cheerful and applauding, interrupted by a few shell-shocked expressions. Lettie shook the latter from her mind and eyed Collins next to her, who quietly traced the outline of her hand on her thigh.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Come tomorrow, once everyone’s had the chance to sleep on it, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Her words caused the giddiness Lettie had felt at the party to return, previous worries fading as quickly as they’d come. Lettie was suddenly reminded by a thought she’d been gripped by earlier in the night. Images of the beautiful woman in front of her floating through the room like an unfettered apparition, seemingly unbothered by the mere mortals that surrounded her, replayed in Lettie’s mind.

“Speaking of the meeting tomorrow”—Lettie turned toward her on the couch and grabbed Collins’s hands, lacing them between her own—“I want you to be there.”

Lettie’s smile was goofy wide at having conjured an idea so great she couldn’t fully understand why it hadn’t occurred to either of them before.

“Uh, what?”

“I want you to become a part of the council. Everyone saw you tonight, the way you worked that room; you’re a natural leader.”

Between her silence and the way half of Collins’s face turned up, Lettie knew the answer was not going to be the one she wanted to hear.

“Why not?”

Collins squeezed one of her hands and kissed the other gently before responding. “Baby, it’s not that I’m not completely honored, but I’m no diplomat. I’m a doctor, Lettie, and I love being a doctor.”

The crinkle in her forehead revealed there was something more. “And?”

“And I don’t think it’s the best idea for the colony—not right now.”

Collins sighed heavily and continued, “My people are finally getting settled and—”

“Our people.” The words came out heavier than Lettie had intended them to, but she didn’t apologize, holding firm.

“You’re right. Our people deserve that peace. Putting me on the council would only stir things up again just when they are getting good. Plus, you’d look like you were playing favorites.”

Collins’s point was valid, but Lettie didn’t back down. “Okay, but my mom and dad were on the council together for years and it was fine.” She conveniently left out all the spats she’d personally witnessed carry over from the office to their family home, but so be it.

“Your parents were from here though. I’m not. That matters.”

Lettie let Collins kiss her softly between exchanges.

“Fine. But, even your distractions aren’t gonna sway me from this. I want old Hoodou and RCF initiates on the council, and soon. It won’t be easy, but I think it could be good for everyone in the long run.”

“I agree, you know I do.” Collins gave Lettie a look she couldn’t quite decipher before her face dissolved into a devious grin once more. “Have I ever told you how much I love it when you speak so passionately?”

“Mmm, no, I don’t think you have. How much?”

“I think I could show you better than I could tell you.”

Chapter
16

The next morning Lettie woke up feeling awful. Having failed to close the curtains last night, she was awakened by an assault of sunrays, uncanny for the middle of the winter months. The seasonal absurdity escaped her as a stab of pain erupted at her temple and pushed like a needle through to the base of her skull. The spasm was so great that it forced Lettie to slam her eyes closed, in the hopes of alleviating the pain, but to no avail. The spots that began to form behind her eyelids were nothing compared to the searing pain, and she ran her hands through her tangled hair, pressing down on her skull. Collins snoozed easily next to her, and Lettie ground her teeth together in the hopes of preventing herself from disturbing her. Getting out of bed, Lettie stumbled into the bathroom where she lay on the cool tiled floor, the contact bringing her some relief. When she could finally see clearly, the orbs behind her eyes gone, she hauled herself up from the ground and faced the mirror, naked except for the family heirloom she’d received last night looped around her neck. Though Lettie couldn’t recall drinking, she ignored the lingering symptoms, chalking them up to a wicked hangover. Padding back into the bedroom, she plopped down on top of Collins, the feel of the woman’s body exquisite even through the blanket.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. I think last night’s planet-shattering sex really took a toll on me. No matter though.” Lettie kissed the smile forming at the corner of Collins’s mouth. “I think you—”

***

A stabbing pain assaulted Lettie once more and her heart began to race. Except this time when she opened her eyes, Lettie was no longer looking at Collins.

“Lettie?”

She glanced to her left at her name being called, Nico’s brown eyes staring back at her. Lettie’s vision still returning to normal, she studied her immediate surroundings. The realization that he wasn’t the only one in the room shocked her. LuAnn and Luce stood across from them, mirroring the same surprised confusion.

“Lettie?”

“Wh…where are we?” Lettie asked, trying her best to remain calm.

“Um, the chow hall. You good?”

Lettie shook her head, her words contradicting the movement. “Yeah, fine, why?”

Luce’s eyes traveled from her face down to her feet and Lettie followed his line of sight. Between her boots lay a still rolling bowl, at least a dozen eggs spilling out of it, all of them broken and cracked upon the ground.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“No worries at all.” LuAnn motioned for one of her workers to clean up the mess as their group continued along their route, stopping every now and then to allow the couple to show Lettie something of importance.

Luckily, she was able to gather enough information here and there that before they left for the next department, Lettie congratulated Luce on his achievement of increasing the rate at which the chickens in the hatchery were producing eggs.

Though he didn’t voice it and they made it back to the convention center without incident, every so often, Lettie could feel Nico’s eyes studying her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. Lettie wanted to tell him to relax, but couldn’t fully fault him. Finally alone in her office, Lettie sank into one of the guest chairs in front of the wooden desk, unable to stand on her feet any longer, her escalated breathing taking several minutes to return to normal.

The next few days passed, and Lettie’s energy levels remained in a constant cycle of crescendos and plummets. She found herself relieved every half hour that she woke up and discovered that she was still lying in bed next to Collins, another transporting blackout averted. The relief was short-lived though, once again finding herself jolting to attention, only this time, it was in the middle of a Command meeting. When her reawakening found her unable to answer a question about her input on the current topic, Lettie panicked and excused herself to the bathroom, scurrying into her office. She remained there until she was sure that the conference room was completely clear, afraid that someone would notice the profuse sweat at the nape of her neck. An hour later, Lettie startled at a knock on the door and opened it, only to see Hestia’s familiar face peeking through the crack. Lettie made her wait as she pulled up the screen on her computer and canceled the rest of her meetings for the day.

Their walk home was wordless, and Lettie was thankful for her lack of questions. It was barely one o’clock in the afternoon, and except for a few soldiers waiting for shift change, the building was quiet. It took them no time to make it to the top floor of the apartment building. Closing the door behind her, Lettie removed her coat and tactical vest, leaving the gear sprawled on the floor. Natural light from the living room spilled into the hallway and more surprisingly, so did the faint thumps of music. Despite the home typically being vacant at that hour, Lettie knew it had to be either Collins or Aida, as the individual clearly had no qualms about being noisy. Maneuvering her way through the living room, the music boomed louder. Lettie was unsure how she hadn’t noticed it sooner. The preceding thought and all others were immediately replaced once Lettie finally reached the source of the music and opened the door that housed it. The boy who sat on the bed was unrecognizable, his head thrown back. But the girl on her knees between his legs was painfully obvious, her intricately braided-up buns unmistakable.

“What the actual hell do you think you’re doing?”

The two split apart so fast that it made Lettie’s already shaky head spin. Aida was up in seconds, the boy, too, curse words flung in unison. Both were shirtless, the boy more concerned with trying to zip his pants up and Aida resorting to crossing her arms in an attempt to cover herself up, unable to find her misplaced shirt.

The boy spoke first, his voice cracking with panic. “I thought you said you lived here!” He looked between Aida and Lettie.

“I do!”

“With freaking Command?”

His eyes were wild, deliberating between fight or flight, as he eyed the nearby window, leaning toward flight. Finally, recognition snapped into place; he was one of the boys she’d seen a few times training with the hunters.

“Jeremy, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am. Ma’am, I am so sorry, I didn’t know ’cause if I’d known I never would have even let the thought cross my mind, I’m so—.”

Lettie snapped at him, cutting him off dryly. “Leave, now. If you ever come here again, I’ll know and I’d hate for us to have an even more unpleasant encounter in the future, is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am. Of course, ma’am.”

Aida scoffed at his immediate submission, but the judgment didn’t stop him from throwing his shirt on, grabbing his rifle, and slipping out of the room, boots and vest in hand.

Lettie didn’t bother looking up as she left the room, her voice icy. “Cover yourself up and then come out here.”

Recently, Lettie found that if she popped two of Collins’s pain pills right when she awoke she could navigate most of the day migraine-free until she got home and could administer a second dose. But the dulling effect of the medicine was fading quicker the more she took and had little effect on the blackouts. Slowly, she poured herself a glass of clear liquid, popped the pills, and threw back the drink, hoping both would quell the throbbing behind her eyes and keep the needles at bay.

“You should have knocked.” Aida slung the words at her, thick with contempt, as she entered the kitchen.

“Excuse me? This is my house and you’re a child.”

“I’m fifteen years old!”

“Like I said, a child. What the hell are you even doing home? You’re supposed to be at the clinic!”

As if summoned, they both paused at the sound of the front door opening, and in strode Collins, her white coat still tucked neatly under her overcoat.

“Woah, what’s up with all the yelling?”

“I just caught this one sucking off some boy in her room!” Lettie flung her hand in Aida’s direction.

“Wha—”

“I thought you were supposed to be watching her, M. What the hell?”

“I was,” she scoffed, looking between them. “She was supposed to meet me at the mess hall for lunch and never showed, so here I am.” Her eyes finally settled on Aida, whose makeup was slightly smeared. “And I’m sorry, you were doing what?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Any hint of diffusion Collins’s presence had brought with it suddenly evaporated along with Lettie’s patience. “It’s a huge damn deal! What would have happened if I hadn’t shown up, Aida? Do you even have protection? ’Cause you sure as hell aren’t ready for a child, I can tell you that much.”

Before the girl could answer, Collins cut in. “Lettie.”

The stern one-worded plea calmed her down slightly, but her skin continued to burn under her sweater, and Lettie took another long chug of the drink. Close lipped, Collins sat down next to Aida on the bar stools, letting out a long breath.

“Aida, we care about you. And we want what’s best for you. Going behind our backs is one thing, but putting yourself at unnecessary risk over a few moments of pleasure, I promise you, it’s not worth it. You get me?”

A moment and then two passed silently.

“Yes,” Aida finally muttered.

“Well, I’m glad you do. Because you’re on lockdown. You go to the clinic, mess hall, classes, and here, that’s it. Hestia will make sure of it.” Lettie jiggled the glass in her hand, swishing the liquid.

“That’s bullshit! You can’t do that!”

“Watch me.”

“You aren’t my mom or my dad.”

Lettie halted the glass on its way to her lips. “What did you just say?”

“Lettie, let it go, she—”

“My parents are dead. Us playing house together doesn’t mean you get to try and replace them by telling me what to do.”

Lettie didn’t know why at the time. It could have been the anger over the sporadic time lapses. The annoyance at her own body’s failings. Quite possibly even the slightest tinge of leftover guilt she still harbored over Isaac. Having been in her position, deep down she knew Aida was hyperemotional and embarrassed, reacting in kind. But none of that mattered as something snapped in Lettie without warning. The glass in her hand cracked, then shattered all at once, exploding over the counter. Though the pain was minimal, blood began to pool instantly within her hand.

“Shit.”

Collins was by her side instantly, towel in hand, wrapping it loosely around her previously repaired hand to staunch the flow.

“Aida, go to your room. I’ll be there in a second.”

Without argument, eyes as wide as saucers, glued to Lettie’s hand, Aida made her way toward her room, Max following her.

Lettie looked back down at her hand, all of her energy spent upon the glass’s demise. Reading her woozy state, once she replaced a second towel on top of the one already being soaked through, Collins led her toward one of the dining room chairs.

“Sit. Keep pressure on that.”

Lettie did as she was instructed as Collins departed the room. Several minutes passed and Lettie pondered if she would come back, letting her bleed to death instead. But when Collins did eventually return, it was with a well-stocked first aid kit, which she set noisily on the table. By that point, the bleeding had waned, mopped up by several nearby towels, and producing a pair of tweezers, Collins began to go to work removing the little shards of glass from Lettie’s hand. They sat in silence as she worked, until Lettie finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“She hates me, doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t hate you, Lettie. Far from it. She’s just embarrassed and hurt. She’s a teenager acting like a teenager.”

“I know. I overreacted a bit.”

“Ya think?”

Before Lettie could comprehend what she was doing, Collins took the bottle of gin next to them and poured it onto the wound. Lettie grimaced deeply but remained silent.

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” she continued, bandaging Lettie’s hand with some gauze and tape. “All set, no stitches needed this time.”

Lettie watched as Collins picked up the bloodied towels, threw them in the bin, and carefully cleaned up the remaining glass. Exhaustion weighed heavy, and Lettie wanted nothing more than to lie down, but she knew she couldn’t leave things as they were.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” Collins stared at her, arms crossed, leaning against the counter. “Want to tell me what that was really about though?”

Uncharacteristically for their relationship, Lettie pondered how much of the truth to tell Collins, knowing the other woman would only be concerned. So Lettie decided on a version of the truth.

“I’m just tired is all. I think I’ve just been swamped with Command—think it’s got me feeling a little under the weather.”

Collins nodded her head in silence, and it wasn’t until she’d uncrossed her arms and moved to stand in between her legs that Lettie knew she’d bought it.

“I know you won’t let me, so I’m not even going to suggest it, but if you won’t let me examine you at least go see Luthor. I think it’d help a lot.”

“You’re probably right. I’ll talk to him.”

Lettie let Collins embrace her head into her chest and hugged her back, careful not to get any blood on her shirt. Even as the words left her mouth, though, Lettie knew she couldn’t go to Luthor, not with this—whatever this was.

***

Shaking fresh snow off her jacket and hat, Lettie made her way through the single unlocked door. She’d been by a number of times since Christian’s return, but attempted to give him ample space now that Remy was also occupying the theater with him. Not wanting to show up completely unannounced, she began to stride loudly down the center aisle toward the illuminated stage.

“Yo, anyone home?”

Lettie was at the forefront of the stage before anyone appeared. She watched Remy as she dropped the welding tool and propped open the cover of her safety helmet on top of her head.

“Hey, Christian isn’t here.” As usual, she pronounced every letter in his name, drawing it out.

“I know.” Lettie thought it best to leave out that she’d personally assigned him to reinforcing several checkpoints earlier that morning. “I actually came looking for you—got a second to talk?”

Remy’s commitment to displaying her raw emotions on her face had already spawned a genuine respect from Lettie. She made no attempt to hide her annoyance at having been interrupted at whatever she was working on to sit and chat with the leader of her newfound home. Making herself comfortable, Lettie sat on the edge of the stage, toying with some spare wires abandoned on its perimeter. When the mechanic finally joined her, long slender legs dangling over the side of the stage, Lettie cleared her throat, hoping to keep her voice as even as possible.

“I need your help.”

Remy swung her feet in a wide arc, dramatically. “And here I thought you wanted to have a tender bonding moment with me.”

“That would be a step up from our first meeting here, huh?”

The quip made the other woman laugh out loud, the noise smooth but boisterous and subsiding quickly, understanding Lettie was indeed there for a reason.

“What do you need?”

“I’m assuming Christian’s filled you in on the Alliance Initiative I announced to the council last week.”

“Eh, he didn’t have to. Word travels fast around here.”

Lettie nodded, unsurprised. “Well, part of that initiative entails devising a way to keep proposed alliances safe from Koenig. The other colonies won’t join us if they think doing so will provoke attacks on their own people.”

“Makes sense, can’t expect people to put their asses on the line like that. But lemme guess—you got some plan to convince them to do just that, yeah?”

Lettie smirked, appreciative and amused by the no-nonsense attitude.

“I want to send a recon party to Cypheria, and I want you to spearhead it.”

For the first time since Lettie had pointed the barrel of her pistol at her, the raise of Remy’s manicured eyebrows confirmed she’d been caught off guard. When a response didn’t come immediately, Lettie continued.

“More specifically, I want you to be in charge of preparing the ships to get our people to Cypheria safely.”

The mention of the ships didn’t faze Remy, confirming Lettie’s assumptions. Christian had confided in his budding relationship about as much as she’d guessed, probably more.

“Why me? Why not Christian?”

Lettie was prepared for the question. “I haven’t divulged this part of the initiative to the council yet. They’re more likely to approve it if I can show them firsthand that we have the necessary pieces for the mission to be a success. For that, I need someone, you, working in the dark, to ready said pieces. I don’t want to put Christian in that position.”

“So, you’re protecting your brother and pulling me in instead so that if shit goes south, you Valentines don’t get screwed.” Remy’s voice wasn’t mean or attacking, factual even in tone.

“That’s not true.” Lettie shook her head. “There’s only two people in this colony who have the skill set to take this on. Christian’s got enough on his plate, so that leaves you. And he clearly trusts you, so I do too.”

Remy scoffed lightly. “What does it matter what the council thinks anyway? You’re Command. You can just wave your hand and force your plan right through. That’s what Christian says.”

The disclosure of her brother’s criticism behind her back bothered Lettie more than anything else Remy said, and Lettie cracked one of her knuckles, the finger bearing the brunt of the true sting she felt. Lettie weighed whether her brother truly thought of her as some dictating leader who pushed her will on others, or if Remy was spouting the ramblings of a recent pillow talk. Neither thought succeeded in comforting her.

Instead of voicing her anxiety-ridden thoughts, Lettie was reminded of her mother, the same woman who gave amazing advice and with the same breath, endangered Christian by obtaining the ships to begin with.

“There are checks and balances in place for a reason.” Lettie found herself repeating the same words voiced by her dad when she’d first joined the council, the curtain in front of the well-oiled machine pulled back. “Command is only as strong as the people will it to be.”

“Right.” The word was clipped, unconvinced.

“So, what do you say?”

Remy rubbed her hand over her mouth, leaving an oil smudge along her chin. “I’m in. But I’d like to say for the record, when all this secrecy blows up in our face, that I don’t agree with keeping this from Christian. But I’m also not gonna front like I haven’t been dying to see these bad boys in person; can’t wait to see what we’re working with.” The same nerdy fervor Lettie witnessed overtake Christian at the prospect of a new tinker project engulfed Remy, and Lettie knew that she wouldn’t be the one to break their pact.

“They’re all yours. Christian will be busy enough during the day that you should have that time to work. Whatever supplies you need, they’re yours. As far as hands go, I want to try to keep this away from Christian’s core guys. Any ideas?”

“There are a few old RCF folks that owe me favors, I could pull them in. Other than that, maybe a couple of the newer recruits to Maintenance and Acquisition—they’re through-and-through gearheads; they don’t give a damn about climbing the ranks, and they’ll keep their mouths closed to work on a rig this big. We’ll make it work.”

“Good.”

Simultaneously, they jumped down from the stage, neither desiring to linger longer than necessary.

“I’ll send you the coordinates for the hangar.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Her flat tone was evidence that as excited as she was about the opportunity, Remy still had her reservations, probably about lying to Christian, and it was difficult to blame her, but Lettie needed this. As her new colleague began to ascend the stairs onto the stage, Lettie called after her.

“Remy.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

***

“Lettie?” Her name was muttered sharply, the speaker clearly annoyed.

Lettie’s body was suddenly thrown down into her chair, the light from the windows blinding her momentarily. When her eyes had finally adjusted, Lettie was sitting at the head of the table in the meeting room, familiar faces staring back at her, the people and room about all she was sure of. A giant empty hole taunted her as she tried to grasp for any semblance of memory between her conversation with Remy and where she was now.

“Lettie?”

She snapped to, Junior beckoning her, a look of expectation on his face. He wasn’t alone; several other members of his unit were in attendance.

“Hmm?”

“The changes to the setup. What do you think?”

Lettie possessed absolutely no idea of what he was talking about, and the pain in her head was so sharp that she thought she was going to pass out, improvisation completely impossible.

“I…I think that we’ll continue with this tomorrow.”

Forsaking any kind of agreement or acknowledgment, Lettie was out of her seat and hurried into her office, bolting the door shut behind her. For the next two and a half hours, Lettie lay on the creased leather couch covered in sweat, slipping in and out of sleep, and counted her blessings that no one, that she could remember, attempted to bother her.

As much as Lettie attempted to ignore the blackouts and episodes, writing them off as stress-related, they became a daily occurrence. A clear pattern indiscernible, Lettie struggled to learn the telltale signs of when she was about to lose time, but even that effort left her feeling more irritated than anything else. The one consolation she did find peace in was that as bad as they were, the blackouts never seemed to last longer than an hour, a lot of time in the real world, but an unconcerning sliver compared to what they could be.

The next two months flew by, and despite her own health concerns, the city fell into the calm melody of ritual that Lettie had grown up with.

Once things had a chance to settle down, and she had made a point of spending several nights away from the house, Aida finally returned home. After a mutual apology, things returned to normal, their back-and-forth banter a part of Lettie’s day she’d missed more than she had thought possible.

Lettie was truly taken aback, though, during a rare lunch she and Collins had managed to squeeze in one afternoon. Lettie welcomed the abrupt company of Aida, only she was not alone—her unforgettable companion was two steps behind her. Aida introduced the boy to the couple, and he about had a stroke when both Collins and Lettie shook his hand, the meal going smoothly after the initial awkwardness had passed. Lettie managed to limit her recollection of their previous escapade to only one horrifying instance, coughing roughly on her glass of sweet tea.

Soon, Lettie found that Aida wasn’t the only sprung member of the household—their own personal guard having found themselves on the list of bewitched. At first, Lettie questioned whether the long stares and hidden smiles between the two women were simply those of colleagues who spent an increasing amount of time together. But her growing suspicions were confirmed when Nico approached her one day in her office in a huff, bent on reassigning Hestia and Jordyn, citing their unprofessional conduct. Lettie shut him down instantly, her faith in their ability to protect Collins and Aida unwavering, even in the face of the newfound entanglement. Deep down, though, Lettie couldn’t ignore the part of her that was happy Jordyn had found herself a new target for her infatuation, reinforcing the diversion of her attention away from Collins. The thought was petty and unnecessary, but it crossed her mind, nonetheless.

Moreover, she’d grown fond of her own burly shadow and was happy to see Hestia with someone, albeit surprised. Even after the Impact brought the prioritization of survival, loose lips still spread gossip like wildfire, and Hestia was no exception. A rumor or two regarding the seemingly close-lipped, private woman had made the rounds around the colony. One night when the two were cuddled up in bed, Lettie recounted them to Collins, who seemed to be about as caught up on gossip as she was with the day’s weather forecast. People whispered about Hestia’s lack of romantic partners, whether from total focus on her training or poor timing was unknown. But there were even less whisperings that she simply did not care for such interactions physically. Whatever the case, the way both women stepped up to the plate every day, especially in regard to Aida, had earned both Lettie’s respect and increasing fondness.

Collins focused on advancing the clinic’s capabilities, and with Aida momentarily content, when Lettie wasn’t sleeping or tending to Command duties, she was with Remy. Not wanting to overcrowd the temperamental mechanic while she was both doing Lettie a huge favor and putting her own relationship on the line, Lettie tried to limit her visits to check on any progress. But eventually, her sporadic check-ins turned into extensive lessons from Remy herself, lasting hours at a time. On really good days when Lettie could muster the extra time, energy, and brain power, Remy and her crew taught the budding leader everything they could about controlling and maneuvering the massive mechanical beasts. Lettie learned about parts, their functions, and how they fit into the operation of the ship as a whole.

Chapter
17

Despite her frequent comings and mostly goings, Lettie failed to fully convince Collins of her own fabricated well-being. It was for that reason alone that Lettie didn’t complain about the increasingly reduced amount of time the couple got to be alone together: Lettie was afraid of Collins’s questioning gaze and her own inability to combat its revealing effect. Harbored suspicions came to a peak that morning as Collins finally broached the topic, whether planned or unplanned, Lettie was unsure.

The women sat in the mess hall at a table alone, Hestia and Jordyn at the table adjacent to them, but far enough away that their presence wasn’t overbearing. Collins commented on Luthor’s recent proposal to expand the clinic, words escaping her mouth a mile a minute. Lettie piped in occasionally, genuinely happy about how excited the prospect had made her partner, picking at the meat and grits that sat in front of her. As Lettie twirled the spoon in the bowl, she was suddenly hyper-aware of each individual oat. The congealing mass was all she could focus on as she felt her head growing lighter.

“Lettie.”

The sound of her name forced Lettie from the spiral and she blinked several times, clearing the spots behind her eyes.

“Hmm?”

“What was that?”

Casually, Lettie spooned a lump of the food into her mouth, trying to act normal. “What was what?”

“You spaced out on me. Where’d you go?”

Collins grabbed Lettie’s hand, firm but gentle. The movement encompassed so much raw love and genuine concern that Lettie was almost completely undone by the desire to help that was expelled from Collins’s eyes. But at the last minute, something in her slammed shut, the images of Collins lying in bed immobile two months earlier hanging like spiderwebs in Lettie’s mind.

“I’m fine,” Lettie responded, picking her lover’s hand up and bringing it to her lips, kissing it softly. “Just tired. The others have been hounding me about their projects and department needs. I’ll be okay though.”

Collins took a long pause before speaking again, studying Lettie’s face, her hand moving to caress her cheek. Her eyes held Lettie’s for so long that she once again almost blurted out that she was not fine, that she was indeed dwindling, but right before the floodgates could widen, Collins finally continued.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

Lettie nodded her head, but the look of something more alerted Lettie and she pried further. “Why do you ask?”

Collins sighed, letting out a long breath, her voice suddenly so quiet that even as Lettie sat right next to her, she strained to hear her in the packed room.

“Nico pulled me aside at lunch a couple days ago. He said you’d almost passed out after a meeting.”

Lettie thought back to the incident in question and then suddenly realized there were too many to narrow down to. Instinctively, she wondered if he was the only council member who’d speculated about her developing impotence and what else was being whispered behind her back.

“I know you haven’t been sleeping. I can feel when you get out of bed in the middle of the night.”

“M, I’m just stressed out right now is all. New members are joining OS by the week, and we’ve still got to rebuild a large part of the Eastern border after the bombings. We still haven’t heard from your sister, and it’s been weeks since we heard a peep from Koenig. Christian keeps going on and on—”

“Hey, I know you’ve got a lot going on. But I also know what stress looks like, and this isn’t that. Plus, I spoke to Luthor yesterday. He said you never came by to get checked out.” Her tone was measured but sure. She was not going to back down.

The moment found Lettie so busy trying to hold it together internally that she remained silent, possessing no answer to the direct implications, her silence answer enough to the accusation. An accusation that, ever so small, stirred a familiar tinge of anger in her chest.

“You can make it up to me by meeting Luthor at the clinic later tonight. He already agreed to carve out time to see you.”

“I—I can’t. I’ve got a standing meeting at the hangar tonight.” In addition to the council and a few others, Lettie had disclosed the existence of the grounded ships to Collins but hadn’t been entirely forthcoming about who she’d been meeting there and for what.

“Please. For me. It’ll put my mind at rest if Luthor gives you a pass.”

“Fine.” Lettie relented, spewing out a sudden exhale.

“Great. I’ll stay late after my shift, and you can meet us at the clinic.”

Lettie didn’t allow her time to say more, pulling their faces together and planting her lips on hers. As usual, Lettie’s heart sped up, a familiar reaction to touching Collins, but this time something more lingered—a feeling of cautious relief, the previous inkling of rage dissipated.

“I’ll see you there.”

“I love you.”

“I love you t—”

***

Transported once more, the impenetrable black fog released her and Lettie darted up from where she lay. Heart pounding, she placed a hand on each side of her head, trying to placate the pain that ripped through her brain. When she could finally see straight, she was very much aware that she’d blacked out once again, but this time, the bleak dread that usually overtook her was replaced with a sense of hopefulness. Hopefulness at the potential for answers, hope that whatever diagnosis the night brought the woman that she loved and the friend who she counted more as an uncle would be right beside her no matter what.

The comforting thoughts allowed Lettie to dive into her seat behind the oak desk again and plunge into her work for the day, reassured. After looking over several reports, she shook the mouse on her desktop, the screen whirring to life. Immediately, a new icon on the screen drew Lettie’s attention; it hadn’t been there before, and its blinking green blip called out to her. Rationale warned against opening the unknown file, but something even stronger, deeper within screamed at Lettie to do just that. She double-clicked on the icon. From the startup it was clear the format was encrypted, and the dread fell nauseously into the pit of her stomach. Several seconds later, a video popped up and Lettie was instantly paralyzed by the face on the screen.

With facial hair as trimmed and neat as ever, the collar of his white uniform peeked out just above the bottom of the screen. The only discernible difference from two months ago was the small wire glasses that enclosed his sharp blue eyes—eyes that Lettie had encountered plenty in her nightmares. Eyes that shook her from the bed she shared with his daughter. The video played automatically, leaving Lettie unmoving in her chair.

“Leticia, I hope this message has successfully found its way into your possession. I paid quite the hefty price for its ensured, discreet delivery.”

Even gloating, Koenig’s tone possessed a certain inhuman, clipped, roboticness to it.

“I’m not usually a man who finds himself in a position of surprise very often, but you, Leticia, you have done just that. I must admit, that little stunt—taking advantage of my daughter, pitting her against me—it was very clever.”

He took a long breath, seeming to look at something or someone behind the camera.

“It broke my heart when I finally found out the truth, but such is the destiny of family. Your mother knew that lesson well. Having to challenge her own husband, pitting his own city against him. But then again, that same rationale is what led her to crown you leader. She picked you with the hope that you’d be able to break the cycle and make the hard decisions.

“Well, little Valentine, I’m here to tell you that she made an erroneous decision choosing you as her replacement. Hear this loud and clear. For the distress you have caused me, I will personally ensure that you are made aware of the monumental mess you’ve made of your mother’s dying wish. No resource will be reserved in destroying your pathetic city and all the little animals you hold so dearly in it. And once my daughter is back at my side and your little society has bowed to my will, I will come for you and everyone you hold dearly.

“Understand me when I say this, Leticia: everything that is to come, does so as a direct result of your actions. Your inability to know your place has condemned Salt Lake to a fate of erasure. The Obsidian Society legacy will die with you. I will personally make sure of that.”

The video cut off and it took Lettie several moments to realize that so had the entire computer. The breath that she’d been choking on finally released and with it, rising bile in her throat. Lettie raced to the trash can, knocking over several binders on her desk in the process. Incredibly untimely, an abrupt knocking sounded at the door as that morning’s contents made their way back up her throat. Luckily, by the time she registered the door open behind her, Lettie was no longer hunched over the trash, instead stooped over on the couch. Head hung in her hands, Lettie tried steadying her breath.

“Is everything okay?”

When Lettie could finally speak, she replied. “I need you to find Collins and Luthor.”

Hestia’s eyes moved from Lettie to the mess of papers on the carpeted floor next to her desk and back again. Between the disheveled hair and layer of sweat Lettie could only imagine how she looked. Probably close to how she felt.

“But—”

“Hestia, please. Find them now. Tell them to meet me at home.”

“Okay.”

As soon as Hestia slipped back out of the office, Lettie took several shaky steps toward her desk. Once she finally regained her balance, she grabbed the keys to one of the trucks downstairs. Thankfully, there wasn’t another meeting scheduled until tomorrow, leaving the floor deserted and Hestia preoccupied with her request, allowing Lettie to escape from the building undisturbed.

Lettie hauled ass home and entered through the back of the building. The few guards that were assigned to the security post were thankfully right in the middle of shift change and hardly said two words to her, let alone questioned why she was without Hestia as she made her way up the stairs. Max bounded toward Lettie as she entered the door, but Lettie ignored her, hurrying toward the bedroom before her legs could give out, leaving the dog whining lowly at the closed door. Resistance was minimal as she let her body fall onto the bed, crippled for several moments. Even the cool feel of the sheets couldn’t quench the fire that seemed to have taken over her skin. Eventually, when Lettie couldn’t take it anymore, she stripped naked and dragged herself into the shower, letting the cold water sting her shoulders, stomach, and back.

***

“Dammit.”

The pounding in her head was so strong that the likelihood of throwing up again drew near. Lettie tried to turn over quickly just in case, her hands slipping in something on the floor, causing her to land face-first in the mess. After several deep breaths, the pain finally subsided, and Lettie was able to open her eyes. A feeling of shock overcame her. Despite hazy eyesight still adjusting to the curtained-off room, the recognition of blood beneath her was instant, the liquid transferring quickly to the exposed skin of her naked body. As she sat up, checking herself for any wounds, Lettie froze.

Not even two feet from where she lay, Max’s white and brown mixed fur was all Lettie could see. The shepherd lay so still that for a farcical moment she appeared to be sleeping as usual, but the blood that matted her fur disrupted that dream very quickly. The blood trailed from her fatal wounds into a smeared puddle underneath Lettie. Even through the already-forming tears, Lettie could make out her gun next to them. Her body crumpled back down onto the floor and Lettie let a wail escape her chest, the reverberation so intense that it hurt, but she didn’t care. Lettie remained on the floor for a long time, tears turning into sobs, sobs turning into dry heaving, and then back again.

When there was nothing else to release, she wrapped her hands around the big dog, smelling her fur one last time. Shivering, Lettie wiped the tears and snot from her face, trying to abate another torrential outburst when the sight of the blood on her hands brought her back, the reality of what she’d done hitting her full force. Hastily, she returned to the shower, actively avoiding looking in the mirror, and tried her best to get all the sticky fluid off.

Once Lettie had dressed, she found an old camping tarp in the closet and wrapped Max in it, careful not to disturb her big paws or legs. Gently, she carried her outside up the balcony steps, and then laid her down in the snow. Half an hour later, Lettie gave her first friend in Salt Lake one last pat before turning around and hurriedly stumbling down the steps. Back inside, she was faced with the leftover scene of red. She thought about cleaning it up, but knew it didn’t matter anymore. Grabbing a different pistol from the top of her closet, Lettie ensured it was loaded and slipped the gun into her waistband. Catching a glimpse of her tac vest and radio in the foyer, Lettie decided against taking them, the weight she bore already excruciatingly heavy, and was out the door.

The wind had picked up substantially and it whipped hard against her body as she fought to keep the motorcycle balanced, picking up speed, nonetheless. It took her less time than usual to reach the hangar, and she was relieved to see Remy there, if only for a second.

The mechanic looked up from tapping on her tablet, clearly surprised to see the woman.

“Hey, you’re early. Slow day?”

Lettie looked at her watch and realized that what had felt like days had only been two hours since she’d left the convention center. She turned back to Remy.

“Change of plans.” She skimmed the hangar, suddenly aware of how quiet it was. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Like I said, it’s early. They’re probably sleeping.” Remy looked her up and down, finally discarding her tablet completely on the table. “Everything cool?”

Silently, Lettie began to walk toward the hangar access door and hit the button that opened it, the loud noise rumbling. When it was fully open, she turned back toward Remy, who watched her, confused.

“We’re leaving—now. You and me.”

Remy chuckled. “What are you—”

The office door behind them closed softly but still audibly, and Lettie spun around at the ready.

“Lettie.” His voice was normal enough, but the way he moved mirrored that of a panther stalking their prey, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“You shouldn’t be here, Nico.”

Nico’s hands were in the air as Lettie raised her gun high, suddenly directed straight at him.

Remy stared between them. “Woah, what the hell is going on?”

Nico ignored Remy, not taking his eyes off Lettie, his stare heavy. “Lettie, it’s me. It’s Nico. Talk to me, ’splain what’s goin’ on.”

A feeling of alertness in Lettie’s chest rose.

“How’d you know I was here? Who sent you?”

“Hestia. I got word from the fellas outside your place that you left like a bat outta hell. Michelle’s worried damn sick ’bout ya, L. I’m worried ’bout ya. You ain’t right in the head right now, ya hear? Now, put that there gun down.”

“No!” The images of the threatening video flashed across Lettie’s eyes, words echoing in her ears. “Koenig, he’s still got people in the city. None of you are safe.”

Nico dropped his hands slowly and Lettie watched his every move carefully.

“Koenig’s on Cypheria, Lettie. He can’t do you no mo’ harm, can’t do no harm to nobody here.”

Her heart jumped as he took a step toward them.

“Now stop aimin’ that thang at me and put ’er down ’fore I have to make ya.”

“Nico, stay back!” She slid her index finger from the side of the pistol, letting it rest on the trigger firmly, but didn’t pull it. “Don’t take another step. Please.”

He was ten feet from her and closing.

“You ain’t gone shoot me. I knows it. I knows you.”

“Lettie, your nose.”

Reacting to Remy’s observation, Lettie wiped at the blood dribbling from her nose with her free hand, momentarily relaxing her grip on the gun.

Without warning, Nico’s pace quickened as he lunged at her. Lettie aimed the gun low at the last minute, pulling the trigger.

Lettie watched as Nico fell to the ground, gripping his thigh with both hands, his face screwed up in agony. Not wasting any more time, she pointed the gun at Remy and motioned toward the other hangar where she knew the smaller ships were housed.

“Holy shit, you shot him!”

“Let’s go, now.”

Without a glance back, Lettie let Remy lead them to the smaller identical hangar and watched as she pressed a similar button, opening the large hangar doors.

Staunching the nosebleed with her shirt, she pointed at the otherwise silent shipyard before them.

“Are any of these ready to go?”

“I mean, sure, yeah, but most of these ships require an entire crew to fly ’em.”

Lettie looked around until she located the right one and pointed toward a smaller ship near the side of the hangar.

“What about that one?”

Remy’s eyes darted back and forth, wide. “Sure, but it’ll be risky with just the two of us. We could—”

“We’ll make it work.”

For the next few minutes they busied themselves with fueling the spacecraft, and Lettie watched as Remy did several preflight checks outside the vessel. Together, they quickly guided the ship onto the runway, Lettie pushing while Remy drove the connected tow vehicle to position it just right.

Lettie’s nerves calmed slightly once they were finally seated in the cockpit and the side doors secured. The ship embodied a large metallic cocoon, impenetrable by the outside world’s troubles. As Remy began to hit several switches and levers on the dash, Lettie’s jitteriness and anxiety returned once again, this time unrelated to the recent events of the outside world.

“First time flying?”

Lettie glanced over at Remy who studied her intently. Lettie nodded her head, fists balled tightly.

“It’s just like being in a plane, except not at all, and you’re being hurled through the atmosphere at insane speeds. Don’t worry, though, this vessel is outfitted with your standard external solar panel grid and an automated solid oxide electrolysis converter. So as long as the cabin remains pressurized, and we stay inside, we shouldn’t suffocate to death.”

“Thanks for that.”

Once all her checks were done, Remy motioned for Lettie to strap into the seat next to her and she did. The ship was louder inside than she’d thought it’d be, but once the engine really got going, the noise settled, and Lettie could once again hear herself think.

“You sure about this?”

“Yes.”

Remy nodded her head and said something under her breath Lettie couldn’t decipher.

“What?”

“Nothing. Lift that lever when I say so.”

Lettie confirmed the lever she was talking about and let her head sag against the headrest, hands tightening around the safety straps across her chest.

For the next two hours, Lettie followed Remy’s directions to a T, everything not directly in front of her on the dashboard slipping away. The ride was bumpy until it wasn’t, and Remy explained to Lettie that they’d finally broken out of Earth’s atmosphere. Both covered in sweat, Lettie unclenched muscles she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. As she tried to compose herself, Remy undid her seatbelt and swiveled her pilot’s chair toward her.

“So, want to tell me what the plan is here? Besides trying to kill both of us.”

Suddenly, static filled the cockpit, interrupting them.

“Hello? Can anybody hear me? Please confirm broadcast. Over.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her, but Lettie couldn’t help but jump at the sound of Christian’s voice coming through the speaker. Remy reached for the receiver, but Lettie was quicker, pulling the gun from her holster and pointing it at her.

“Don’t,” she mouthed quietly, even though he couldn’t hear them.

“Lettie, if you can hear me, please say something.”

The sudden sound of Collins’s voice caused the gun in her hand to waver, and Lettie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to close herself off from the emotions the voice conjured like a magician.

“Listen to me, Lettie. I need you to come home, okay? We can talk about Nico. We can talk about Max. We’ll figure this out, together. It’ll all be—”

“Turn it off!”

“But maybe—”

“Turn it off now.”

Remy did as told, switching the radio off from her side of the cockpit, and it fell silent once more. The flippant way she avoided looking at her told Lettie that the woman was not pleased with being held at gunpoint, and who could blame her, but unfortunately it wasn’t the time for maintaining friendships.

Lettie broke the silence first. “How long until we reach Cypheria?”

“Thirty-one hours, give or take.” She motioned to the screen that appeared to be both keeping track of their course and running the autopilot. “You should get some sleep. I’ll keep a lookout on things.”

“I’m good.” A lethargic wave rippled over Lettie’s body, all the adrenaline she’d used over the past few hours leaving her gassed. Her mind was the real culprit though. Lettie couldn’t quiet her thoughts long enough to sleep even if she wanted to.

The idea of sleep sufficiently abandoned, Lettie spent the next thirteen hours alternating between exploring the ship’s cabin and staring out the side cockpit window, thinking. Mostly about how she’d just shot her best friend and killed her dog all in the same day, the horrors replaying on a loop. There was nothing Lettie could do for Max, but she prayed that Nico would be able to forgive her, that was, if he was still alive to do so. Lettie’s heart ached for both him and Max, but it ached even more for those already lost at the hands of Koenig’s violence. The latter reignited her will to stay the course, a course that would validate everything she’d done, and all the lives lost up until that point.

***

Lettie stared into space as a void of blackness stared back at her. Her head was pounding, but she’d managed to avoid any oncoming blackouts and nosebleeds and was grateful for the respite. Beside her, Remy lounged back in the pilot’s chair, her head lolling to the side. Various colors on several interface screens illuminated the cockpit and bounced off her tanned skin, making Remy’s tattoos appear to be alive, snakes slithering and butterflies flapping their wings. Lettie grabbed her shoulder and shook the woman awake, putting an end to the vivid animation.

“What?” Remy kept one eye closed, annoyed at having been disturbed out of her sleep.

“How far are we?”

Groaning, she leaned over the main console and studied a large monitor. “About sixteen hours out.”

“Turn the ship around.”

Remy’s eyes snapped to hers instantly, bewildered, and when Lettie didn’t elaborate, she did as instructed.

“Put your seatbelt on.”

Again, she complied.

“Hands on the controls.” Her initial relief had morphed into complete puzzlement, but Remy didn’t resist. Lettie took out a pair of handcuffs from her pocket and began to cuff Remy to the dashboard.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Once Lettie was satisfied with the restraint job, she left her own chair, showing her the handcuff key and placing it on a table near the back of the cockpit.

“You’re going home,” Lettie finally responded.

Remy looked at her confused, and then realization dawned on her as Lettie began to collect her things.

“You were never going to send scouts out here, were you?”

“No.”

“You used me.”

“I needed your help to get to Koenig. To stop him.”

Remy pulled hard against the cuffs, but they didn’t budge. “Lettie, this is a suicide mission. There’s literally thousands of soldiers between you and Koenig. And that’s if you even make it to the ground.”

Even in the face of the plausible statistic, Lettie’s voice remained calm and even, her emotions having given up control to instinct.

“I’ll figure something out. I have to. He’s never going to stop until he’s dead or we all are. And I won’t let him hurt anyone else that I care about.”

“That you care about? What about the others? What about how they feel? What about Michelle and Nico? Christian? There’s more than one way to hurt someone.”

“None of that matters as long as they’re alive. I can’t lose anyone else—I refuse to let him hurt any of you.”

“Lettie!”

Remy began pulling on the cuffs even harder, and Lettie swiped across the pad that opened the hatch into the emergency pod attached to the bottom of the ship.

“Watch over my brother. And tell Collins…tell the others I’m sorry.”

With the last plea to Remy, Lettie carefully hopped down into the small cockpit and then secured the door shut behind her, strapping herself into the lone seat. Gingerly, Lettie mirrored the checks she’d observed and practiced with Remy and the other mechanics hundreds of times back home. When she was finally convinced all the necessary steps had been completed, Lettie fired up the pod and with a deep breath to steady her hands, initiated the release from the main hold. The screen flashed green at her, designating a successful launch, and Lettie entered the same coordinates for Cypheria into the computer, letting it do its job.

***

Lettie found it impossible to sleep on the remainder of the trip. Her mind was preoccupied with the multitude of things that could go wrong at any moment, putting a quick end to her short-lived mission. Instead, Lettie passed the time by staring out the windshield of the craft. Space was both the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen and the most frightening, nothing but vast unknown as far as Lettie could see broken up by constant flecks of gleaming stars. When she’d grown bored of staring at the same empty blackness, Lettie thought about Salt Lake and the mess that she was sure she’d left in her wake. Not knowing how long it would be until she saw the city again, Lettie did hope enough time would pass that her success would overshadow all the bad—that her friends could forgive her, that Collins could forgive her, for her abrupt departure.

Her mind wandered to Collins the most. Her forever ruly braid. The light freckles sprinkled over her shoulders. The way she bloomed when Lettie touched her, fawning for the next. The memories made her sad, but she knew that she would see her again; she had to.

Lettie had begun to drift off, when an alarm began to blare, the screen in front of her suddenly flashing red nonstop. She tried to click on the alert for more information, but the attempts yielded no results that were helpful. Searches of the windows for a problem drew none. The constant alarm didn’t help, the deafening noise making it difficult to think straight. Suddenly, the ship jolted sharply to the left, and her seat belt was the only thing that kept her from being thrown against the side of the little cockpit. Suddenly, the ship catapulted into a downward fall and the quick decrease in altitude made Lettie’s stomach drop.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

After attempts to interpret several of the little screens, Lettie was finally able to discern that the hull had been struck by something, what, she did not know. Lettie pulled back on the main controls, but they didn’t budge, the ship continuing its rapid descent. A second boom rocked the ship, and it groaned under the collision. As Lettie squinted to find a way to address the damages, she began to grow lightheaded, and the lights from the monitors started to form little rainbow spots, clouding her vision.

“No, no, not right now.”

Lettie shook her head, willing herself to stay present, but soon enough, everything collapsed in on itself.

***

Water lapped at her face as she was jerked awake. Lettie was thrown into shell shock by the freezing temperature of the liquid that sat stomach level and growing. It was hard to see through the nails in her head, but she could make out several cracks in the cockpit’s front windshield, water spraying through them without restraint. Lettie shook her head to clear the darkness. First thing’s first: had to get free. Then worry about the water.

The ship’s exterior appeared to be completely submerged albeit upright, her lower body engulfed. She fumbled with the safety straps at her chest and finally managed to shake them loose. A small win demolished once she tried to lift herself from the seat and was unable to move. Both frustrated and feeling weighed down, Lettie threw her coat, tac vest, and gun holster off, letting them sink to the bottom of the ship. She tried one, two, three times to heave her leg out and when that didn’t work, took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface. Her foot had gotten caught in some cargo straps, and she tried to remain calm as she untangled the mess. Her lungs had almost hit their threshold when the constricted leg finally came free, and she swam upward, gasping for air.

“Okay. Now find a way out.”

Lettie spotted the hatch she’d come through a few hours ago and swam to it, ignoring the significantly risen level of the water. Her fist slammed against the automatic release button but nothing happened. Lettie repeated the motion again, and when that didn’t work, she resorted to punching her fist against it full force but with the same outcome. Eerie clangs seemingly from every direction reminded her that the pressure of the outside water was also against her and probably prohibited the the hatch from opening.

“Dammit!”

Not giving up, she took hold of the bulkhead wheel. She twisted with all her strength but didn’t have enough resistance without a surface to brace herself against. Not getting discouraged, Lettie gripped the wheel with both hands and threw her whole body into a rotation, trying to use the momentum to turn the wheel, but it stood fast. The water lapped at her neck and Lettie knew it was useless to try to check the ship for other exits. There wasn’t enough time or air to do anything even if she did find one. As the water continued to rise, Lettie turned all her focus on taking small quick sips of the remaining air and forcing her body to still, her heart rate slowing. Soon she was floating horizontally, her face crushed against the ceiling. As the water closed in over her face, Lettie took one last gulp of air, with the knowledge that it was quite well her last.

Epilogue

Sand engulfed Samira’s boots as she shuffled down the steep embankment of the dune. They’d all seen the vessel falling from the orange empty sky, but even as she hopped out of her rusting buggy, stumbling upon the actual crash site, a sense of wariness filled Samira’s senses. Having arrived after the others, Samira spotted them congregated down near the water’s edge.

Waves spawned by the vessel’s sinking continued to crash against the shore, as Samira realized she’d been to the greenish-blue water before. One of her more discreet clients who valued his privacy had flown them out to the oasis months ago, miles from the nearest settlement in all directions. And a good thing, too, as the remoteness of the location meant they had time before the Front descended with their guns and cuffs, enough time for Samira and her friends to be long gone before they arrived.

Snapping her from her thoughts, one of their own emerged from the oasis’s surface, shaking himself free of water as he paddled through the remaining surf and took a knee on the sandy beach. Samira and the others watched in silence as he laid the girl down onto the wet sand.

“You, you, and you—help me grab the winches from the buggies so we can haul up the wreckage. And be quick about it.”

As her friends busied themselves with securing their latest profitable payload, Samira stalked toward the woman who had all but been forgotten. Kneeling over the body, she removed the front portion of her headscarf that shielded her face from flying debris and scorching sunrays.

Curls plastered to her forehead, blood clung to the stranger’s skin under her nose. Despite the sand that now clung to her, Samira could tell the woman wore no protective gear, her threadbare T-shirt and black jeans soaked.

Cautiously, Samira placed two fingers at the nape of the woman’s neck and felt nothing.

“Surely to Allah we belong and to Him we will all return.”

Samira ignored the others’ calls for assistance as she let her hand trail down the woman’s neck, landing on the beautiful gold chain. Her smooth hands were gentle as she undid the clasp and removed it from its owner’s neck. Deceptively heavy, Samira couldn’t take her eyes away from the gems that bejeweled the necklace, and she studied them closely. Knowingly, she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the jewels’ surface.

Samira pulled the lighter from her pocket and allowed the tip of the flame to play over the jewels. As residue began to burn off the gems, she put the lighter away, blew to cool them off, and then licked them. Among the smokiness was a familiar taste of tangy bitterness. Spitting into the sand, Samira secured the necklace in her waistpack and moved to unburden the corpse of its gleaming ring, when she froze.

Gold, purple, and green inlays swirled around the wet skin on the woman’s hand, coming together to form a vicious black panther, ready to spring.

“Newt!” She looked around the clearing, searching. “Newt, bring me your resuscitation disk!”

A surge of focus flooded her body as Samira hooked the woman underneath her arms and dragged her away from the water’s edge and onto dryer sand. At the same time, Newt finally knelt beside her, handing the thin circular disk to her.

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring them, Samira removed the stranger’s shirt and bra, giving way to walnut brown skin marred with scars. Placing the disk over her right breast, Samira hit several buttons on the disk’s face, hoping her estimations of the woman’s weight and time of death were correct. Samira sat back on her heels, watching as the device seamlessly spread across the width of the woman’s chest, binding around her torso, and began to whir to life. Suddenly, small shocks of electricity began to jolt the body, convulsing periodically. Seconds and then minutes began to pass as the device switched between delivering the shocks and monitoring for a response. As hopelessness began to set in Samira’s stomach, the machine delivered one last jolt of electricity, causing the stranger’s body to buck inches off the ground.

Gagging and heaving ensued as the woman turned over, coughing up water. Samira helped her onto her side in time to hear engines in the sky swoop over them, bullets thunking into the sand around them.

“Newt, run!”

Acknowledgments

Though crafting Lettie’s story was a solo endeavor, getting it into your hands took a village. The following people are to thank—y’all did the damn thing!

To the ancestors who came before and the pioneers who crawled and walked so I could run, thank you.

Kali, Kylie, and the East Austin Writing Project for the assist.

Rose, Natalia, Lily, Kylie, Erin, Ron, Holly, Candace, Madelyn and the rest of my Scribe crew, who aided in this whole self journey. To JeVon, Meghan, and Brittany, thank you for providing the resources and an avenue through which I was able to bring this story beautifully into the world. Scribe’s support in both this project and myself are too much to jot down on a single page.

Aunty Gretchen and Uncle Ramon for your day one encouragement, all the cackles, and good cooking that recharged me. Dejá for letting me take over our dining room table to curate the first draft of this book.

Sruthi, for your patience and your ability to both humble me and lift me up when I needed both. And the math.

Keshaun, Richard, and Rhyeian, just because you exist.

Mom, for always being there and for encouraging my love for reading early on, even when you were worried doing so in the dark would hurt my eyes. You continue to inspire me.

Dad, for always trying, and having my back from the jump, in everything.

And to you, Reader, thank you.

This first publication and every one after are made possible because of y’all.

All my Far Out love,

Keshara

About the Author

Keshara Moore hails from everywhere and nowhere. Born to two military parents, she moved every few years, from Germany to Upstate New York to New Orleans and everywhere in between. It was during this constant traversing that she found solace in reading and a love of storytelling. Eventually, she graduated from the University of Richmond with a BA in Criminal Justice and American Studies, thanks to her mother’s GI Bill. After several years of managing dockets and wrangling clients at one of Austin’s highest volume criminal defense firms, Keshara quickly discarded any inclinations to go to law school. It was during her brief time working from home during the COVID-19 pandemic that The Obsidian Society evolved from dream-filled scrawls into an actual manuscript. She now works in Systems & Operations with some of the coolest people on Earth at Scribe Media in Austin, TX and writes, among other things, on the side.

Table of Contents

- Contents
- PART 1
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Part 2
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Part 3
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author