Imposition (20 page)

But what else could he do? He wasn't going to sit here and wait for death. He could at least try to get Gen to the remains of the base, he could at least go and see if there was any chance of getting spaceside. And if they got there and discovered the whole place had been vaporized, well, he could despair then for good reason. In the meantime, he would do everything he could to get Gen to safety.

He took a couple of deep breaths and composed himself, wiped his eyes and nose on the back of his grubby hand, lifted Gen up, and started walking again. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other, inching closer to that vain flicker of hope somewhere in the valley.

He couldn't remember how long it had been now. Days, weeks perhaps? He could feel his consciousness slipping away, like melting butter in a hot pan. He tried his best to keep the pan steady, to stop himself from spilling over the edge. Couldn't do that, no. Couldn't afford to do that.

But why? Why did it matter? He was tired, needed to sleep. Sleep and sleep and never wake up. No one would know if he just took a little nap, just a short one, against some tree. It was getting dark again now and anyway, he'd forgotten where it was he was headed to and why he needed to get there.

No! He told himself. Wherever ‘there’ was, it was something important, something he needed. No. Not something
he
needed. Something someone else needed, and that was even more important.

So heavy. So tired and so hot and so damn
heavy.

Oh yes. That was it. He bore a burden, a burden of trust, of secret and unrequited love. That burden meant he couldn't stop, couldn't sleep, couldn't just drop to his knees and die.

So he kept going, one step then the next, slipping over roots and face whipped by tangles of vines, hoping with blind faith he was heading in the right direction, whatever that meant.

Something bright above him, and noisy. Startlingly so. It shook the trees and shredded the dark. It must be them, he thought. They were supposed to be dead, all charred and burned up until there was nothing left, but here they were, come to take them away. He would have let them take him if it was only him they'd come for, but it wasn't. He couldn't let them take the one at his back, couldn't let anything happen to him. He dropped to his knees and let the weight slide off him gently, gently. The burden was to be protected at all costs, even his own life, though he couldn't remember why. A feeling. Just a feeling. He knew it in his gut, and that was enough reason.

He reached into his thigh holster and pulled out the pistol, aiming it at the white, thrumming noise.

Two sharp pains in his chest and he dropped like death, simply unable to fight the weariness any more.

Voices, all around him. He couldn't make them out and at first they came to his ears as babbling nonsense, but as he regained consciousness fully he understood them.

"This one first! He's in a much worse condition!"

"Severe leg wound and septicemia over here; we'll get him stable for transport, you go."

Lots of voices and noise, blinding light and busy people all around him. They were standing over him, silhouettes against the confusion, talking to him in words his mind moved too slowly to comprehend. Something was put over his mouth and he didn't want it there, but his hand was too feeble to fight the figure towering over him.

Then he remembered where he was, through the haze. He remembered he hadn't been alone. There was a pain in his leg as though someone had torn his flesh from his bones, and he screamed in agony, pressing his face against the hard surface that now lay beneath him. When he opened his eyes again, he saw someone else, lying flat and pale and lifeless with people working frantically around him.

They were shouting at one another, sticking the body full of leads and sensors and other things Gen didn't understand.

Then he realized who it was, and heard a sound come from his own throat that horrified him almost as much as the sudden, wrenching, desperate feeling inside.

As he watched, Therse's body began to shake, like a fish pulled from the water and thrown onto the bank.

"Fuck! He's seizing!” one of the women shouted. “We need to evac
now
!"

He shouted for Therse, over and over, ignoring the pain in his own body, ignoring his croaking, weak, broken voice, ignoring the people fussing around him, just hoping Therse might hear him.

He felt a tight contact around his arm, painful to his poisoned blood, but it pulled his attention away. Someone was squeezing him. “Hi,” he said. Gen tried to make out his features, but it was impossible. “He's going to be okay. Just stay with me.” Gen nodded, feeling no shame at the tears streaming his cheeks.

There were other voices nearby as he was hoisted off the ground—those with the tone of command.

"I hope you're happy.” A man, gruff, indignant.

"I fail to see how this is in any way our fault. You should be grateful that we agreed to search for survivors.” A woman. Voice smooth and laced with threat.

"You..! You shot their carrier out of the fucking sky! I lost nineteen of my men today, and you're going to shirk responsibility?"

"Those were warning shots on a craft that failed to identify itself. We were acting under regular Imperial protocol for dealing with raiders. Their deaths are your responsibility. Your presence was unscheduled and you were under radio silence, something I'd like to talk to you about in far greater detail."

"We could have pulled this off fine without your damned interference! This is
our sector
, we don't need your ‘help'!"

"Is that what this was? You thought you'd slip in before us and ‘take care’ of everything?"

"This should have been a Navy operation from the start!"

"This type of feckless, reckless endangerment is exactly
why
we have to come out here and do things properly. If nineteen of your men died today you have no one to blame but yourself. Just be fucking thankful these two will be fine. And if it were left to me,
Major,
I'd decorate these trees with the limited contents of your fucking skull for such a horrific failure. Just be glad I don't have any jurisdiction here. Enjoy your court martial."

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Therse sat aboard the stellar cruiser
Terminal Regret
, alone with his thoughts in the warm comfort of the officers’ lounge, drumming his fingers lightly against the coffee table, chin resting in the palm of his other hand. He sighed and rubbed at his temple, trying to halt the churning mixture of anger and guilt swirling in his mind. He'd been hiding from Gen behind Meitou until Meitou had left, secretly not wanting to deal with him, but now that perfectly-chiseled and distracting excuse was gone, Therse was simply hiding. Which was pathetic.

He didn't want to leave it like this. He'd known the situation would be difficult if he got accepted, and he'd known he'd be conflicted, but he'd at least expected Gen to be supportive. Well, perhaps he still was, but everything had gotten mired in the complications of his overreaction to Therse's secret. Gen was still so irritatingly childish in some ways. Therse supposed he wasn't much different himself, evading the issue by skulking off into a corner of the ship and hoping nobody would find him.

Though what, exactly, had he been hoping Gen's response would be? Did he want Gen to ask him not to leave? Did he want Gen not to care at all? Either of those would have been easier to deal with than knowing he was hiding his true feelings. But that was just another way to shirk the responsibility of deciding, he supposed. To let Gen dictate his decision so he didn't have to fear the regret of making the wrong choice.

Even if Gen had asked him to stay, Therse had already known what his response would be.

But none of this changed how he felt. He sighed again and chastised himself for acting like a melancholy adolescent. He was moving on, on and up to what would undoubtedly be a bright future, and he deserved it. It was what he wanted, and he'd worked damn hard for the recognition. What made it so difficult was that right now, he didn't want to leave at all. Not like this.

He got to his feet from the lush rug and decided it was high time he went to find Gen and apologize so that they could make the most of the time they still had together.

A little voice chimed inside his head, a voice he used to be able to silence completely. He still hadn't learned from one experience of almost losing Gen. He was about to lose him again, and for good. Therse gazed out of the window and wondered faintly if he should tell Gen how he really felt, if he should confess after all these years of repressed affections, but shoved the delicate wishful thoughts away. The truth was, it was best for them both if he said nothing. Then nothing would be changed, and they could just go about the rest of their lives, apart.

It was time to accept that he could never have what he wanted here; it was and always had been nothing more than a dream. The sooner he realized that, the sooner he could finally put to rest his specter of guilt.

The transport pod that served the lounge opened behind him, and he turned around to see Gen stepping out from it, expression on his face like they'd been thinking along similar lines. Gone was the defensive bravado from earlier and in its place a vulnerability that made the thought of leaving a thousand times harder.

Therse swallowed, trying to ignore the rush in his chest at seeing Gen, at seeing the way he carried himself, at seeing the way the soft low light fell across his handsome features. Since Meitou had pulled the feelings out of him, everything was so much brighter, like walking from a dark room into glorious sunshine.

"Hey,” Gen said.

"Gen.” Therse paused. “Look, I'm sorry. I've been a total jerk this last week."

"Yeah, well. We both have."

"And I should have just come out and told you I was gay from the start. I'm sorry you had to find out in the way you did...” He scratched his head.

Gen shrugged an acceptance. “Like you said, what difference does it make really,” he tailed off. “I'm sorry I reacted weird.” Then Therse noticed he was behaving oddly, swaying a little and keeping too much eye-contact. “I don't want it to end like this, Therse,"

"Are you drunk?” He laughed.

"Yeah, a little. I needed to think some stuff through, needed to...needed to think about some things. When you think about some things, you know sometimes you need to be drunk to think about them properly."

Therse squinted at him, confused.

"I'm happy for you, you know that, right?” Gen continued. “I'm so happy for you that Command wants you, because hell, they should. They should be biting your fucking hand off at the opportunity to get you into their ranks."

"Thanks,” he muttered, blushing. Gen had never been so forthcoming with complements before. “You didn't seem so enthusiastic earlier."

"Just ignore me. You know I have a tendency to shut people out when I'm feeling...” The lump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed. He was looking at Therse quite intensely. “I really am happy for you. You're the best guy I've ever known.” He laughed and shook his head. “Shit, that came out awful."

Therse walked over to him, smiling, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It's fine. Thank you.” They looked at one another. For a fleeting moment Therse got the impression Gen was about to kiss him. The mind could play such cruel tricks at times. “What's wrong?” he asked.

"I'm drunk.” Gen grinned, rubbing his forehead.

"I know,” Therse chuckled.

"No, I mean...I think about you, when I'm drunk."

Therse blinked at him. “What?"

"I've seen the way you look at me sometimes."

And suddenly the blush across his cheeks was fierce. “What are you talking about?” he laughed, still trying to deny it, feeling the hot poker of fear coming close at the possibility he might have been found out.

"That guy...” Gen muttered, gesticulating off to his side as though Meitou was in the room with them. “For as much as I think he's an asshole, and he is an asshole, he's right on one thing. There's a question I have, a question I need to ask you, and it might not have anything to do with anything, and it might be way off the mark, but if I don't ask it now I probably never will and I can't rest knowing that that bastard has it over me..."

He was rambling. “Gen, you're not making any sense. Hell, I should be used to that by now.” Still so close, almost gazing at him. “What question?"

"Are you in love with me?"

No preparation, no warning, Gen just asked the question outright, blunt and direct as ever, and it hit Therse like a shell to the face at point-blank range. And Gen just stood there, looking back at him, waiting for his response as he struggled desperately to find words.

"What? Why would you even think that?"

"I don't know...I get this, this
heat
from you. And the thought just keeps spinning around in my head, that maybe you have feelings for me."

Therse's mind was gunning at close to light speed as he tried to decide the best way to answer the question—to tell Gen the truth and risk everything or to lie and circumnavigate, to run and never look back. He settled for avoiding the question altogether. “I really don't understand what that question has to do with anything."

"I want to know, because if you feel that way...means I have to think about how I feel...about you..."

"What are you saying?"

"You're a fucking jerk and sometimes I hate you, other times I can't stand you...but sometimes...sometimes I think about you, and I don't know why. I think about not wanting you to go. The thought of not seeing you every day feels like having something ripped out of me..."

This was headed in a certain direction, a direction Therse could see but refused to believe. All he could do was stand quietly and watch, mind reeling.

"And I need to figure it out fast before you're gone forever."

"What are you talking about...” Therse whispered

Gen sighed and fixed his gaze, calm and steady, and said the words Therse had wanted to say for years as though they were no more difficult to utter than an order at a fancy restaurant. “I think I might be in love with you."