Once Broken, Chapter 35 (Patreon)

Alex fought his way back from the darkness. He had to wake up, he had to stop them, to protect Tristan.

Hands held him down, voices speaking code he couldn’t place. He fought against them. He needed to get up.

“Be calm.” The words were Standard—calming, but accented. “You are safe.”

“Not me.” He forced his eyes open, and shielded them to protect them from the expected daylight. He didn’t matter. “Tristan.”

The light was dim, everything was blurry, and the Samalian over him had tan fur with red highlights and a vest. Not Tristan.

Of course, it wasn’t him. Why would Tristan bother with him when he hadn’t managed to kill five mercs? He’d left him behind, as expected.

He forced himself to stand, a slow process, the universe fighting him each time he moved. The world shifted around him, the code in his head unraveling. There was an ache somewhere in the back that spoke of muffled pain. He remembered being shot and touched his side. His fingers came away wet with an acrid-smelling gel—the unguent. The side of his head stung when he touched it.

There was motion everywhere around him, inside the House—that was where he was. Injured people lay on mats, being tended to. He turned to get a sense of the devastation, and the universe tried to send him to the floor by playing with the code controlling his body.

Strong hands caught him. “Alex,” Rig’Irik said.

Alex pushed him away and fought the universe himself.

Adults, children, elderly. All terrified. A few had bundles with them.

Families, friends clinging together. Children crying in spite of the comfort their parents provided. The House’s attendants, who weren’t busy with the injured, circulated among them, offering comfort.

The person he didn’t see was Tristan. Had he already left? If he had, where did Alex’s priorities lay? He still wore his harness, but was down to six knives. His gun was gone. He deserved the beating he’d gotten for losing it before ever using it.

Hea’Las was nearby, looking at him.

“Where’s Tristan?” If one person here would know, it was her. She would confirm Tristan had abandoned him.

“He brought you to me to tend to, then went to the town to help with the fighting.”

Alex stared. That made no sense.

“He had me get as many people out as I could,” Rig’Irik said.

Rig’Irik was cut, a patch of his tanned fur missing on his side, his skin burned. He was armed.

Alex grabbed the gun and headed for the exit.

“Alex,” Rig’Irik called. “He wanted the town empty for a reason.”

Alex didn’t care. Evacuating the town spoke of being able to reason again, but it was still out of character. He had to—

The ground shook.

Cracks appeared in the wall and Alex stilled, looking for any section that might fall, but other than stone-dust and beams of daylight through the cracks, everything held.

Screams of fear, and Hea’Las’s voice rising above it, a calm sound in spite of the volume. She told them of faith, of the Source and the Defender, of being protected, then she spoke words he didn’t understand, but the cadence felt ritualistic. She was praying.

He didn’t need faith; he knew what this had been. The problem was that only a few things could cause explosions around the House. The hovers could, but even if all of them were parked by the House, they wouldn’t have caused this kind of shaking.

The only thing big enough to cause this was the dropship, but if it had exploded… He shouldered the door open and a wall of dust forced its way inside the House. The screams started up again.

He covered his eyes and pushed his way through the wind until it died. When he opened them, he had to stop. Even at this distance, he could see the crater in the field on the other side of where the town should have been.

Of it, there was nothing left. Debris littered the ground halfway to the House—some recognizable as furniture, some as bodies. The dropship was gone, of course. Tristan had destroyed it. A very him thing to do, regardless of what state his mind was in.

Which meant Tristan had been to the dropship.

Alex started running, telling the universe to go fuck itself when it tried to jumble the commands to his legs. He had to find Tristan, had to make sure he was okay. Rig’Irik called after him, but Alex ignored him. He didn’t have the time for that Samalian’s pining. He had to find Tristan and kill him for doing something this stupid.

He slowed as he reached the debris, both because he had to be careful where he stepped, and his battered body protested the exertion. He saw a wall stuck in a copse, and another was partially uprooted. He could tell where the force of the explosion had weakened by the trees still standing.

He picked knives off the black-clad bodies as he called out. “Tristan?” He didn’t care if he sounded desperate. “Tristan! Where the fuck are you!”

Any bodies that were tall and muscular, with fur that could have been deep brown, he turned over, each time dreading recognizing the features, and feeling relief when they weren’t his. He didn’t bother checking for life; the bodies were peppered with holes. they’d been shot, not killed in the explosion.

He stopped by another partially uprooted copse while looking further toward the devastation. Nothing stood past this point. Fallen trees were everywhere. Anyone caught in that part of the blast was dead; he had no doubt of that.

If anyone could survive it, he reminded himself, it was Tristan. He began walking again. He needed to know, he had to, so he would know who to go after for daring to kill him. For forcing Alex to be alone again. Coughing came from behind him, deep and wracking. He spun, gun up, knife in the other hand. The sound had come from the trees, but everything was still. Regardless, there was someone in there. It could be—

Someone laughed, then groaned in pain.

“I thought,” a man said in Standard, “that we had enough time to make it to that temple.” Alex knew that voice, and hated him for having survived when—

“I would love to see you make a timer out of a few capacitors, conduits, and one processor, and get anything accurate out of it.” Another groan.

Alex dropped the gun, and had trouble remaining standing. He’d dreamed of that voice, that tone, the derision in it. He’d had nightmares filled with it.

Then Tristan laughed. “Remind me to never do something like this again.”

A tree moved up, then to the side. Tristan sat up, his fur more dust-gray than black-brown. His gaze fell on Alex, those deep brown eyes meeting his gray, and the dread that had begun with the laughter turned to brittle ice at the warmth in them.

Tristan’s smile should have sent him running away, but the universe had removed his control again. He’d been so certain the wall had been finished. He’d seen the Defender in the alcove, he was certain of it. Tristan had done everything he’d been tasked with. So why wasn’t he cured?

Tristan stood, an arm against his wet side. Alex reflexively patted himself, looking for Heals, but he didn’t have his medical pack. Another reason for Tristan to abandon him. He’d grown lax in these months here. Forgot the things Tristan taught him, to never let his guard down, to always be ready to fight, or run.

He looked up, ready to receive his punishment, and took a step back.

Tristan was already before him.

“Alex.” The voice was soft, caring. Alex thought he was past the point where anything could scare him anymore, but this shattered the ice in his vein. He felt himself readying to run.

Coughing came from the trees. “Hate to break up the reunion,” Jacoby said, “but I could use some help.”

A mask. This was a mask for Jacoby’s benefit. It had to be. It was the only thing that made sense, the only answer Alex was willing to entertain.

Tristan reached for him, and Alex flinched away. Tristan pulled his hand back.

“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice sounded so real, but then, this was Tristan; he could make him believe anything when he set his mind to it.

Alex nodded. “You don’t have to worry, I’ll keep up.”

The answer saddened Tristan, and something inside Alex broke. That hadn’t been part of a mask; there was no need to play a part, not when there was no one else there to notice that detail. What had happened to his monster? Alex wanted to scream, to run to the Defender and smash it to pieces.

Tristan looked around.

Alex studied his face and saw satisfaction there, the calm he hadn’t seen in far too long. Tristan wasn’t the excited child rejoicing in blowing up a building. This was control, taking in the calculated results of what he’d set to do.

Had it worked, or hadn’t it? If Tristan was in control again, then there had to be a reason for the game he was playing with him. Did he think he still needed these games to control Alex? That he had to go back to keeping him off-balance? Alex didn’t understand why, but if that meant he’d be kept, he’d live with it.

A tree fell aside. “Really?” Jacoby coughed. “It was too much for you to help?”

“You managed well enough on your own,” Tristan answered, still surveying the damage.

“I managed—You can’t be serious. We could have died! It’s pure luck nothing punched a hole through either one of us when we were blasted through the trees.”

“There are plenty of Heals lying around if you lost your emergency pack. Help yourself.”

“Heals don’t do any good if you’re dead.”

Tristan smiled at Alex. “It takes more than an explosion to kill me.” Alex was transfixed by that smile, fear and desire in equal proportion. How badly had he wanted to see something like this on the Samalian’s face over the years? How terrifying was it that it, more than anything else, was an indication that something was still broken inside Tristan?

Jacoby got to his feet. “That wasn’t an explosion. That was the stuff vid shows are made about. What the fuck did you detonate?

“The power core.”

Jacoby’s reply was choked off. “The core? Are you fucking insane? Didn’t you learn your lesson back in the city? I swear, if it caused a sympathetic reaction in the hover’s core, I am going to kill you.”

Alex’s reached for the gun, but the holster was empty. Right, he’d dropped it. He took another knife out. Tristan gave him a minuscule shake of the head.

“Ease off, Jake; the hover’s too far. The energy wave dissipated long before that.” Tristan shrugged and gave Alex another smile. “And if not, there’s one in the forest me and Alex can use to leave. That one will be far enough.”

“You realize all of those have pieces missing. I used them to upgrade our hover. It’s going to take weeks before I can get one of them working.”

“That’s okay; they aren’t the ones I’m interested in. How about we head in that direction, instead of standing here?”

Alex tried to convince himself that the normality of the conversation was part of a mask while they walked. Something close to the Tech mask Jacoby was familiar with, but anytime he glanced at Tristan, the Samalian was looking at him, giving him a small smile, trying to convey something with his eyes Alex didn’t understand, but still scared him.

A crowd had gathered outside the House. Alex saw Hea’Las, Rig’Irik, Sartas, and many others. He couldn’t make out their expressions, but he expected apprehension. None of them had understood what it meant to have Tristan among them.

“Jake, start working on the hover. I need to have a talk with them, then we’ll head out.”

“Finally!” Jacoby ran toward the hover.

Alex watched him, then looked at Tristan, who grinned and shook his head in amusement. “Can you do me a favor, Alex? Keep an eye on him. I don’t know how long it’ll take him to get the hover ready, and I don’t want him interrupting my discussion.”

Alex’s insides went cold again. Asked. Tristan had asked, not ordered.

Why the pretense when no one could hear? 

“Alex, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alex replied tersely. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep Jacoby out of your way.”

“Alex, we—”

With a spin, he hurried away. He didn’t want to play this game, not anymore. He’d thought he could endure it, but it was too much of a reminder of the precarious situation he’d been in during his early time with Tristan. They’d worked through that, and Tristan had shaped him. Made him who he needed.

Alex didn’t want the games. He wanted finality, whatever form that took.