All eyes turned to Syrine, who remained kneeling on the rug among hundreds of multicolored envelopes. “You saved me,” she whispered to David. “You took the bomb in your own hands.” She shook her head in disbelief and repeated, “Right into your own hands.”
“Let’s go,” the commander barked, snapping his fingers. “Everybody out. I want the hotel evacuated.” He ordered one of his men to contact the bomb squad, then told David to remain with “the aliens” until they’d reached the safe house.
“But I’m not dressed,” Stepha objected. “And I need my sphere.”
“Sorry, Ambassador. It’ll have to wait.” At the commander’s signal, a pair of soldiers surrounded Stepha and half escorted, half dragged him into the hallway.
Aelyx’s hopes lifted as he took Syrine’s hand and followed. Without a com-sphere, the ambassador wouldn’t be able to contact The Way. Between now and the time they returned to the suite, Aelyx would have to convince Stepha not to make that call.
“In your own hands,” Syrine repeated for the tenth time. She shifted on the safe-house bed, peering at David like she expected antlers to spring from his temples. “You could have lost both your arms and bled to death. Do you know that?”
David broke formation long enough to pinch the bridge of his nose. He sucked in a loud breath and exhaled slowly. “It’s my job to protect you. If I’d blown my head off, it would’ve served me right for being so stupid.” He threw a pleading glance at Aelyx before resuming his sentinel at the door.
“It’s all right,” Aelyx said, handing Syrine his pillow. “We’re safe—no harm done.” He spoke extra loud for the ambassador’s benefit. “Why not close your eyes and practice your K’imsha?” The meditative art had often helped her cope with emotional upheaval. If she’d made greater use of it on Earth, she might have avoided her breakdown last month.
In an unusual move, she glanced at David as if seeking his input.
“Definitely,” David said with a nod that nearly dislodged his camouflage hat. “Do that kismet thing.”
“K’imsha,” she corrected.
“Right. You should do that.”
“Okay. I’ll try.” But as soon as she placed a pillow beneath her knees and lay back on the bed, she sat up and announced, “I can’t. My mind is spinning.”
David hung his head while Aelyx turned to Stepha, who sat on the other side of the room brooding in his fluffy robe.
“Ambassador,” Aelyx said cautiously. “As Syrine has pointed out, Private Sharpe saved both our lives, at great risk to himself.”
“Indeed.” Stepha pulled his lapels together, covering his spotted pajamas. “And as I pointed out in the car, Private Sharpe has my gratitude.” He lowered his brows and asked, What is it you wish to say to me, brother?
Since Aelyx couldn’t lie, he figured he should get to the point. I’m concerned that The Way will misinterpret tonight’s events and prematurely call us home.
There’s nothing to misinterpret, Stepha said. This marks the third attempt on your life.
Actually, the fourth, but who was counting? We’re safe…because of a human. Would The Way leave him to die?
Perhaps, Stepha said. Or they may recruit him for the colony and let the rest of his kind face a well-deserved extinction. Regardless, they will hear of this, and soon.
Aelyx sensed the ambassador’s resolve and knew he couldn’t dissuade him. It was time to change strategies. Then I request an audience with The Way to plead my case. It’s my right as a citizen.
Absolutely. Stepha’s certainty was clear—he didn’t believe Aelyx’s petition would sway the Elders. We can summon them now if you like. We’ll speak in our native tongue—the human soldiers won’t understand. Do you have your sphere?
Aelyx kept his sphere in his pocket at all times, and the ambassador knew it. He produced the object and held it up, giving his answer.
Initiate contact, Stepha ordered. Enter priority code One to ensure they assemble right away.
Aelyx did as instructed, then set his sphere on the bedside table and leaned back against the headboard he shared with Syrine. Of the six people in the room—three L’eihrs and three human soldiers—she was the only one whose anxiety matched his own. Her chest rose and fell far too quickly, the restless jiggle of her feet shaking the bed. He took her wrist and pressed two fingers against the pulse racing through her veins.
“Look at me,” he whispered. When she did, he asked, Are you all right?
Instead of speaking, she bared her consciousness to him. It didn’t take long to identify the problem. The bomb scare had done more than frighten Syrine; it had dredged up memories of the day Eron died, when she’d escaped the French guard and fled to her shuttle. Aelyx visualized her actions as if he were there, feeling the pounding of fear in her heart as she ran into the woods, the sting of tears behind her eyes, the suffocating grief of losing Eron, the only boy she’d ever loved. In the weeks that had passed, she’d grown more secure on Earth. Tonight’s attack had shattered all that.
We’ll never be safe here, she told him. I want to go home.
Close your eyes, he said. Practice your K’imsha.
He helped her lie flat and watched as she steadied her breathing. She must have succeeded in her mental exercise, because minutes later, her pulse slowed and she fell into a sleeplike trance.
“Is she okay?” David whispered.
Aelyx shrugged. “For now.” He wasn’t sure about the next time.
Soon after, his com-sphere called to him in the signature high-pitched frequency that announced a message from The Way. Aelyx moved off the bed and whispered his passkey while walking to the other side of the room. He sat in the vacant chair beside Stepha and placed the sphere on the desk in front of them.
Ten bodies flickered to life in miniature form—Jaxen and Aisly sitting in youthful contrast against eight withered Elders. Alona held up two fingers in the standard greeting and spoke for the group. “How can we assist you, brothers?”