Cyrus grimaced. While he was sure of the answer, he still had to ask, “Will our food supply hold for that long?”
As another Bureau Agentwent about listing off their collective food supply, Killian struggled to pay attention. Sure, it was good to know they had enough to not starve, but was it really necessary to go into such detail? Yes, would have been a complete and acceptable answer.
Okay, knowing exactly what food they had was a good idea…he was just tired. Tired and sore. He was feeling those fights, even if he had avoided injury. Aside from the dark bruising around his neck, and the lighter ones on his wrists and ankles, that was. But the days in captivity, the pitiable amount of food they were given, him turning into a full-time babysitter, and just the intensity and stress of it all, were finally catching up to him, and this meeting felt redundantly long.
What more was there to say besides that all three ships were fucked, the climate control was fucked, and that comms were still fucked. Oh, and that a few bolts and wires connecting the three ships together was all that was standing between them and the un-survivable temperatures of the vacuum of space.
All the traffickers were dead, at least, with some having been killed after the explosion by Ender's people. A fact none of them were going to acknowledge because, abundant food supply or not, they didn't need any extra mouths to feed, and they didn't want to worry about them escaping or harming anyone. It was not worth the risk when they were in limbo.
Really, there was so much Killian should be thinking about, or focusing on, yet where was his mind? Oh, on his relationship, and all of the questions he'd had over the last few months about how odd Cyrus had been acting. Because the answer was obvious now.
Cyrus had known. He had known Killian was going to be taken, but even without knowing for sure, he just knew it was more than that. Cyrus had been looking, searching for months, as if the world was going to end unless he found the answers he was seeking. But it hadn't been… Yet maybe for Cyrus it would have felt like it had…
The way the Fate had reacted to Ender getting hurt, like it was his fault… And maybe it was…
“What did you do, Cyrus?” Killian rasped out loud without meaning to.
The Fate jerked in the seat beside him, his hand tightening on his. “I…”
More than the guilty expression on the man's face, what drew his attention was the smug, angry look on Soren's. The Harpy knew exactly what Cyrus had done. But this was not the place to reveal it.
Shaking his head, he stood, slipping his hand free. “Never mind, it's nothing. I'm going to go lie down.”
Cyrus stared up at him, looking so damn lost, but after a moment, the Fate cleared his throat and murmured, “You should rest, you've been through a lot in the last few days.”
Killian nodded and smiled—a smile he wasn't sure he really felt—before hurrying out. He didn’t know how to feel, so he decided to just not. No point borrowing trouble when he wasn’t sure of himself.
Pulling the oversized coat closer, he shivered slightly as he entered the hall, but instead of heading to the room he was currently sharing with Cyrus, he found himself in front of the door he knew the Gorgon was resting behind.
The tall red-headed woman who was standing guard outside nodded at him politely as he reached her, but she didn’t seem inclined to move, just staring as awkwardly at him as he likely was at her.
Clearing his throat, with a small smile, Killian asked, “Would you stop me if I tried to go in?”
She visibly shivered, her face turning grim. “I likely wouldn’t be able to, if you actually put any power behind that voice of yours.”
His voice had that effect on some, even when he put no command behind it. It was like it leaked out regardless, just hinting at what he could do if he really wanted to.
“I won’t do that. This ship has witnessed enough people being forced to obey others,” he said carefully. “I just want to check on him. I’m not here to cause harm.”
“It’s a rare day indeed when a CEB Agent doesn’t want to cause even a little bit of harm.”
Ah, yeah, that fell in line with what he knew. Ender’s people pretty much hated and distrusted them. “I’m more upper management, and in the tech department. The only people I’ve terrorized lately are a few sheepish, and possibly brainless, underlings that somehow managed to fake it until they made it into my department.”
She smirked. “They still have a job?”
Killian chuckled. “They do not. Though one did manage to take my office carpet out with him. Mainly as piss stains are just not something I want to deal with on the regular.”
The woman barked out a laugh in surprise. “Can’t blame you there.” She hesitated for a moment before sighing. “I have no orders to keep you out, so against my better judgment…” She slowly stepped out of the way of the door.
Killian smiled. “Thank you.”
Before the woman had a chance to change her mind, he pressed the button for the door and hurried inside when it slid upward. The door closed automatically behind him, and he found the room to be as bare bones as the one he shared with Cyrus.
The same rounded shape, and all chrome, inside there was only a king-sized bed curving against the left wall, with a trunk at the foot of it, and to the left a single nightstand. The only thing different was the chair by the right side of the bed, but it likely had been added recently. Across from the entrance was another door that he was sure led to a bathroom.
As he slowly approached, Killian’s gaze traveled over the still sleeping Cryptid, before stopping a few feet away.
He knew the Gorgon was taller than him, broader too, but it was hard to tell with him lying down, and being pretty much buried under the pile of fluffy blankets that were covering him up to his neck.
