The Glorious Becoming (56 page)

Esther watched the examination tables as they passed. In one room, several cadavers were laid out.

Giro went on. “We call them Ceratopians, but their proper name—what they call themselves—is the Golathoch. While their war with the Bakma has only recently become public knowledge, it is something we have known for some time here. We are learning much about their thoughts on the Bakma. There is little respect shared between the two species. The Golathoch consider the Bakma little more than vermin.”

He slid his hands into his pockets. “The Golathoch come from a world with a more oxygen-rich atmosphere than we have on Earth. That is why they have such a large size. Their cells here maintain an oxygen level of twenty-five percent, reflective of their home planet, at least based on what we have learned. That is halfway from where we are now to the conditions of prehistoric Earth. They can function on our planet, but there is a noticeable loss in energy and efficiency over time.” He smiled somewhat. “If you notice, the canrassi seen with the Golathoch tend to be larger than those seen with the Bakma. This is why we believe canrassi exist on multiple planetary systems. Their size differs based on the oxygen level of the planet they come from. So far, all of the extraterrestrials we have discovered are oxygen-breathers. But this is not very surprising.”

The laboratories passed, and the two came upon the first row of cells. Inside each one was a Ceratopian. Some watched them as they walked by. Others sat idle on wall-mounted seats. An eerie silence filled the area.

Stopping in the middle of that hallway, Giro placed his hands on his hips. “As you can see, the usefulness of two thousand square feet will be halved when dealing with this species. How many square feet does Amisha already have?”

Esther paused. “Just over four thousand.”

The director seemed surprised. “Is it
that
small?” He looked around concernedly. “No wonder she wants more space.”

Walking to one of the cells, she watched a Ceratopian inside. The horned warrior turned its head to her. “How big are these cells?”

“Eighteen by twenty. So with two thousand square feet, you are only looking to add room for four or five Ceratopians.” A puzzled look struck him again. “She really only has four thousand square feet?”

“For Ceratopians, yes,” Esther answered. “Of course all of Confinement is much bigger.”

He nodded. “That is still small, but...I suppose
Sydney
is a small base.”

“You should visit some day,” Esther said. “It’s a beautiful facility.”

“Yes, I should.”

Hesitating for a moment, Esther spoke again. “Would you mind if I took some photographs?”

“Not at all, if you think it might help.”

“It’ll help to have a visual aid.” Unzipping her handbag, she reached in and felt around, pulling out a small camera a moment later. Stepping away from the cell, she took an angled picture of that side. Previewing the image, she frowned a bit. “The other side might work better.” Switching her position in the hall, she took a photo of the opposite row of cells, the Ceratopians closest to the glass all staring at her. “I’ll probably try to get some of the labs, too. I don’t
think
she’ll need any of those, but it’s better to have them and not need them than need them and not have them.”

Giro agreed.

Previewing the image she’d just taken, she slipped the camera back into her bag. “You mentioned that Ceratopian-Bakma skirmish...were you able to learn anything new from that?”

“Eh, a small bit. We retrieved some specimens, but none were outstanding.”

Leering faintly—and intentionally—she opened her posture to him. “I’m sure there must’ve been
something
new. That event sure was news to the rest of the world.”

For several seconds, Giro showed no reaction. He simply looked at her. Then slowly, subtly, a semi-hopeful smile curved up. “There is much I could tell you, about many different things, not just what we learn from specific encounters. Would you like to meet for dinner sometime?”

The directness took her by surprise. But her expression grew pleased. “I’ll be here for at least several days. I could probably swing a dinner conversation.”

“How about tomorrow night? We can meet in the cafeteria.”

“You mean here at the base?”

He nodded.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Esther and Giro talked for several more minutes before they once again set out through Ceratopian Confinement, Esther occasionally pulling out her camera to snap several photos. Outside of Ju`bajai and Tiburon, she never personally encountered any other extraterrestrials.

That was fine by her.

All in all, she spent just over two hours with the director. Conversation grew friendlier as time passed, deviating from the business of
Sydney
to lighthearted banter about various other topics. By the time they were finished, Esther had successfully inserted her way, if not into his heart, into his circle of informality. It was precisely what she’d wanted.

Now, there was only one more thing she had set her mind to do. A simple gesture that needed to be repaid. As her time with Giro ended and she was escorted out of Heaven, Esther’s gaze sought and found Ju`bajai again. As she passed the Ithini female, she whispered to her a single, hushed word. A message of her own—one she knew Ju`bajai would comprehend.

“Liar.”

28

THURSDAY, MARCH 15
^TH
, 0012 NE

2057 HOURS

P
ULLING HIS SHIRT
over his head, Scott rolled his neck in a wide circle. Exhaling gently, he sighed with eyes closed.

What a day.

It was impossible not to be distracted by the events of Falcon Platoon, Strom Faerber, and the possibility of open aggression by
Novosibirsk
. News of the event was on every monitor in every turn of every hallway. It was all anyone was talking about. He and his comrades from the Fourteenth may have been the only ones who were trying to avoid it.

As he’d promised, he met with Natalie briefly that night. It was the shortest, most uncomfortable, and
easiest
encounter with her yet—one in which he was allowed to be distant and provide one-word answers while using the cover of the Falcon Platoon attack as justification. He’d only spent about five minutes with her before he excused himself, to her complete understanding. The truth was, he just didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Unfortunately, talking was about to be unavoidable.

Esther had informed him several minutes earlier via comm that she was en route to his room for the day-one update of her infiltration. Scott wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that, but he knew how he
did
feel. He dreaded it.

Scott hadn’t spoken to Esther since her eruption in his room—since she’d learned he’d told others, particularly Svetlana, about their personal situation. Her pride had been shattered; she blamed him solely.

So did he.

There was a truth that Scott had settled upon in the days between his and Esther’s last conversation. This entire situation was due to his poor handling of that night when he’d called her to his room in
Novosibirsk
. She’d confessed her love for him. She’d killed a man for him. Even after everything he had done to her, she’d held on for that chance at his affection. Scott tried to envision how that scene would have gone had he handled things differently:

She was desperate for an answer. Searching, panicking. Then it came out. “Scott, I love you!”

...whoa. The first thought that struck Scott was that he hadn’t heard her correctly. But the Briton’s reaction confirmed it. She loved him. All of this passion, all of this willingness to take the burden of vengeance from his shoulders...it was all because she loved him. And he didn’t love her.

“Oh, Ess...” What could he say to her? How could he make her understand without destroying her? How could he let his friend down softly? Opening his arms, he moved in to draw her close. “I’m so sorry...please try to understand this.” She fell against him. Her saline soaked his uniformed chest. “I just don’t share those feelings.”

That was all the reimagining Scott needed. It was as far as he needed to go to know that he had handled her confession completely wrong. She hadn’t caused this. If Esther was guilty of anything, it was that she’d loved unrequitedly. She’d deserved better.

Esther’s knock came to his door. Though it wasn’t quite as familiar to him as Svetlana’s, it was recognizably a woman’s knock. Natalie wouldn’t be visiting him this late. Grabbing his shirt, Scott slipped it on and made his way to the door. Turning the knob and preparing for anything, he opened it to allow Esther entry. There was a moment of momentary surprise when he saw her as Calliope, though it passed. Eyeliner-laden eyes settling upon him, she curled her fingertips around the door frame and eased the door shut.

“Hey,” she said quietly as she slid her glasses from her face. Stretching her neck, she pressed a hand to her shoulder. It was probably her first relaxed moment all day. “Sorry I’m so late.”

Her tone wasn’t what he’d expected—it was downright placid. It was still the onset of the conversation, to be sure, but he’d take that over angry any day.

“Where do we begin today, Scott?” she asked, walking to the other side of his room.

“With the life-altering topic of your choice, I guess,” Scott said, following her. “Falcon Platoon,
Novosibirsk
, whatever it was you found out today. We can...talk about anything.” It came out in a funny way. He wondered if she noticed. If she had, she never gave indication.

Esther leaned against his bathroom doorframe. “I wasn’t prepared for
Novosibirsk
. I didn’t find out until I was already working my way in.” The scout exhaled tiredly. “Do you think Thoor really attacked that unit from
Richmond
?”

“That unit was my old one.”

She looked at him oddly for a moment, then her eyes widened. “Oh my God, Scott. It is, isn’t it?”

He hadn’t said it to sound offended. He just wanted her to know. “As far as what I believe, I honestly don’t know. It would make zero sense for Thoor to attack EDEN now. Not when he’s on the verge of getting evidence against them. By evidence I mean H`laar.”

“I think so, too,” she said. “This smells dubious, but probably only to us. But even we have to admit, it sounds exactly like something Thoor would do.”

Scott nodded. “I thought about comming Dostoevsky, or even Thoor himself, but I’m hesitant to make any direct contact right now. Just in case our comms are traceable in any way.”

“Boris could probably do something. I’m sure there must be something he could deactivate. Has he learned anything yet?”

“He’s making progress. He was trying to explain some stuff earlier, but he was losing me by the word. He says he’ll have access soon, so I trust him.”

Silence fell between them. Standing in the center of the room with his hands in his pockets, Scott watched Esther as she gazed at the floor. What was this difference in her? What was she thinking about? Taking a few steps back until his back was against the opposite wall, he leaned against it and watched her.

Closing her eyes, she brushed back her hair. “God, Scott,” she whispered. “Today was insane.”

“Tell me.”

“I made it all the way into Confinement,” she said. “I can’t say I was prepared for that so quickly, but opportunities presented themselves and I took them. I expected security to be...well, more secure. But I supposed they’re more accustomed to keeping captives in than people out.”

He arched his eyebrow. “So they bought that you were a civilian contractor?”

Bending down, she produced her camera. She tossed it to Scott; he caught it. “They did. I’m supposedly working with
Sydney
.”

Examining the display, Scott flipped through the photos. “What is this?”

“As many photos of Ceratopians as I could take without looking too suspicious. Any of them look familiar?”

A frown formed on Scott’s face. He exhaled depressingly. “I can’t tell anything from these. I mean, I see the aliens, but nowhere near close enough to tell if one is H`laar. I don’t even know I trust my own memory.” He lowered the camera down. “He was tan. That’s pretty much all I’ve got.”

Esther had been studying Scott the whole while he was looking at the pictures, her pupils darting ever-so-slightly as she took him in. “There is a slim chance that I could get Holmes to show me H`laar, but even that’s a stretch.”

“You mean you actually met Holmes already?”

“I did a tad more than that. He asked me out. We’re meeting tomorrow night in the cafeteria. If I can get close enough personally to him, maybe I can get him to show me H`laar somehow. It’s a stretch, but it’s all I’ve got right now.”

He wondered if Esther felt as guilty about deceiving Holmes as he did with Natalie. Somehow, he doubted it.
Don’t be judgmental, Scott. You’re no saint, either.

Hesitating, Esther spoke again. “There is one more remote possibility. There’s an Ithini who works in Confinement.”

“
Works
in Confinement?”

She nodded. “Her name is Ju`bajai.”

Her? Scott had never seen a female Ithini.

“They use her to screen new arrivals. Arrivals like me.” She dipped her head tellingly. “She knows who I am, Scott. She reached into my mind before I could even react. Apparently, they use her as a security measure. She knows I’m Esther, not Calliope. She also knows we came for H`laar.”

“That’s not good...”

“But for some reason—and I’m not entirely certain it eases my anxiety—she lied to Holmes to grant me access to Confinement. She told them I checked out, and that I was okay to go through.” She walked toward the bed. “Ju’bajai implanted the word
liar
into my head as I walked past her. According to Holmes, she’s an IB, but I have a sinking suspicion that she’s not. I think she was a Ceratopian Ithini. I also don’t think Holmes knows that. I think when he told me Ju`bajai was an IB, he genuinely believed it.”