The War Dogs Trilogy by Greg Bear

Author:Greg Bear [Bear, Greg]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Fiction / Science Fiction / Space Opera, Fiction / Action & Adventure, Fiction / Science Fiction / Action & Adventure, Fiction / Science Fiction / Military, Fiction / Thrillers / Suspense
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2017-09-11T16:00:00+00:00

JOURNEYS NEVER END

With no tact at all, Kumar and Borden and Joe separate me and Teal from our protective posses—Teal from her helpful tall friends, me from the Skyrines, who all of a sudden want to stick like glue. Borden tells them, and Joe confirms, that this is okay, no harm, we need our privacy, Teal and I, and then we’re shepherded across the workroom to a small side cubby with chairs and a small table—a single lamp. Isolated and quiet.

The look on Kumar’s face is intense. Borden is trying to be discreet, but Kumar doesn’t give a damn—he might as well be watching porn and jerking off. This is why we’re here. This is why he assigned Borden to me and brought me here.

Then, Joe and Borden and Kumar withdraw like matchmakers leaving on cue, but I know they’re just outside, listening. I get it. We’re big investments. Prize Thoroughbreds.

I gingerly sit across from Teal. I have no claim. That passing spark of connection, that slap across my face, sharing her grief and fear at the appearance of the Voors—no right to think I did anything major to protect her or keep her from harm—did I? I imagined it all, right? Even so, I want to bathe in her presence. I could be a ghost and I’d still just want to be here and watch her.

Teal stretches her hand across the table.

“I am such a shithole,” is the first thing I say.

“Hush t’at,” she says.

I reach out. She hears flesh rub on plastic, grasps my fingers, then lays her palm over mine. Her touch is dry. Jeweler’s fingers, long and strong but delicate. I remember that fine strength. She pushes at the table, trying to get closer, so I move around the corner, kneel beside her.

“Let me feel you!” she says. She brings her face close to my head, hands hovering beside my cheeks. Her nostrils flare. She’s smelling me. “Hasna’t been hard, hasna’t?” she says, eyes moving as if they can still see. I wonder if somebody will replace her eyes, like Tak’s, and I think it could happen—but not here. I want desperately to get her to Earth, to a hospital, to fix her and make her whole again.

Back to see her child.

“So sorry a be this way,” she says, and touches the scars around her eyes. “Went hard for us.”

“I know,” I say. “Not your fault, not ever.”

She raises her chin. “You’re alive a-cause me, remember?” she says, teasing a little, but full of joy, of pride. “I saved you.”

Tears drip down my cheeks. “You sure did,” I say.

“I was sa glad a find ot’ers. Never touched you, dinna know your feel, just far looks,” she says, and her long fingers stroke my cheeks, my lips, the orbits around my eyes. I don’t remind her about that slap. “Dinna catch your smell, ’cept sweat, fear. You’re afraid now.” She touches the moisture on my cheeks. “Na tears. So much a learn!”

She takes my hands and raises them to her own face.

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