“Who are you?” he whispered, staring at her anew, seeing her in a different light at long last. “How do you hold such power over me?”
Christine smiled. “I don’t hold anything. Just you.”
He shuddered. There was something deeper, stronger in that pronouncement, but he couldn’t quite lay a finger on it. His mind was moving too fast to stop and focus.
“It happened during the war,” he said quietly, speaking while his guard was down, not sure when it would come back. If it ever does with her. “Back on Dracia.”
Christine nodded, not seeming surprised. It probably wasn’t that hard to discern at least that much. He should give her some credit.
“The war didn’t last all that long in the grand scheme of a planetary invasion. They simply rolled over us like a wave,” he said. “But we adapted and worked with what we had. As we retreated from city after city, many of our kin were left behind.”
He got up and moved to sit next to her on the bed at this point. She scooted aside, making room for him, though as soon as he sat down, she was at his side, one arm around the back of his shoulders, the other taking his hand and holding it tight. Still she didn’t speak, letting him take his time, form his thoughts without interruption.
She’s just perfect.
“Once we acknowledged the reality that we were going to lose, we started to focus on next steps. How to best keep our race alive,” he explained. “Which meant women. Children. I was part of a stealth team tasked with infiltrating cities that had been overrun and rescuing groups of the two that had been trapped when our forces retreated. It always happened so fast that it was hard to get many of the non-combatants out.” He snorted. “I guess I should say it was mostly children. Dracian women are...well, non-combatant is not a term used to describe them. Except right after childbirth.”
“I would have liked to meet some of them,” Christine said, speaking at last. “They sound like my kind of women.”
He grinned, a real, genuine smile. “Yes, yes I think you would have gotten on well with them. Perhaps a little too well for my liking,” he joked.
Christine smiled and stroked his cheek, running a finger along his ear, but she remained silent, having said her piece.
“The last mission before we all retreated to Fortress Glacis for the final battle,” he said, laying the stage. “I went in, like usual. Storm dragons are adept at stealth and concealing themselves. I was good. I am good. But this time it was difficult. More of the Infected troops had stayed behind than usual. It took me extra time to reach the children. We moved as fast as we could to escape, but something went wrong. The diversion went off early. The sentries between us and freedom were alert.” He shuddered. “I tried...”
Silence filled the room as he hung his head. This time, Christine didn’t try to lift him up again. She let him absorb the loss, remembering the pain.
“We were so close, Christine,” he said, feeling a strange source of strength in his stomach, propelling him to continue. To keep talking. “The wall was in sight. I held off the incoming Infected. They ran for it. Then...” He shuddered. “It came up from the ground. Like a nightmare of shadow and darkness. They...they didn’t stand a chance.”
“How did you escape?” she wanted to know.
“Another dragon, one of my team, appeared. They took on the sentries, told me to go after the children.” Altair sighed. “I was caught in the middle. I couldn’t stop the sentries, or the dragon. All this power, this strength, wasted,” he snarled. “I could do nothing while they died.”
Christine nodded slowly. “You say this was your job during the war?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“How many missions did you run?”
Altair shrugged. “I don’t know. Dozens. We were always retreating, there was always a city that was lost faster than everyone could evacuate. Dozens, maybe hundreds. It was a blur.”
“How many times did it go wrong?”
“Twice. That time, and another, where we got to the coordinates only to find it a hub of Infected activity. We lost a few escaping that time, but we made it.”
“So, you rescued hundreds upon hundreds of your people on these missions. People who could not fight themselves, helpless noncombatants that lived for another day. Because of you.”
“But...”
“Yes. You couldn’t save them all, Altair. But the key is you saved some of them. You did something. You fought and stood. Even the last one, you said that the diversion went off early. Did you set it off?”
“No,” he said quietly.
“So how can you take the blame for that?”
“Well I don’t, but I should still have gotten them out,” he countered.
“Not every situation has a solution,” Christine said quietly. “As much as we want there to be one. Sometimes, the other side gets the better of us. The key is ensuring that we don’t let one occurrence knock us down. We have to get back up, dust ourselves off and try again.”
He started to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lips.
“Tell me. Did any of your missions ever require you to alter it midway through? To adapt on the fly?”
“Yes, but...”
“So, you didn’t give up there when the enemy got the better of you, did you? You pushed on.”
“I guess...” He didn’t really think that was the same.
“Why are you giving up now?”
Her words hit him like a slap across the face. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing left to fight for. We lost, in case you missed that.”
Christine looked like she wanted to hit him in frustration. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Altair. You weren’t fighting on the front lines, were you? No. You were tasked with continuing your race. With ensuring its survival.”
Bewildered, he nodded in agreement. “What is your point?”
“My point is you can still work on that.
