The familiar scent of medicinal herbs wafted from the green, glowing tubs of liquid. Warmth and numbness tingled in opposition as Akio laid her head back on the towel draped over the small tub. Her arms were secured in an upward facing position. One was full of needles connected to I.V.’s, and the other on a table full of tools still left untouched. 

 

Once she was healed, Akio needed to figure out who leaked. It wasn’t Eris. It couldn’t be. Someone else knew about her activities. Someone close enough to get by undetected. That put her in danger. It put everyone in danger.  

 

Indra limped past, handing a concoction to a Gebul. Their red and black fur was missing in patches. Glistening blood and burnt skin reflected the blue light. 

 

“Have you taken care of your injuries yet?” Akio asked, her voice hoarse and crackling. 

 

Pausing with a beaker in one hand, Indra snorted. “I’ve done enough.” 

 

Akio yanked the needles out of her arm. A partially empty blood bag was hung among the other liquids above the tub. Had she truly lost that much? When she began to stand up a hand pushed her down and shoved the needles back into her arm less than gently. 

 

“Starshit, Indra!” Akio cried, her arm throbbing. 

 

Setting her wrapped hand on Akio’s natural one, Indra moved it back into the position it had been before. “Don’t get out of the tub until that bag is empty. You lost a lot of blood from external and internal bleeding.”

 

No scolding? Akio could hear the exhaustion in her girlfriend's tone. “Okay. I’ll stay put.”

 

“Don’t think this means you’re forgiven. When you’re healed, I’m taking my cane to your ass,” Indra spat, hobbling back to the countertop. “I warned you, Akio. And what did you do? Break. The. Cybernetic. Do you think those grow on trees? Come preassembled?” 

 

“Well no—” 

 

“You’re starshitted right! They don’t. I have to find the parts, hope that they are compatible, build another, and completely replace it.” 

 

The level of anger in Indra’s tone was accentuated by the thrashing of her oi’ek. But Akio knew better than to believe it was the destruction of the enhancement that pissed her off. 

 

Akio had been reckless. Stupid. As a leader, her actions put herself and others at unnecessary risk. 

 

Closing her eyes and leaning back, Akio sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

 

“That’s not good enough,” Indra said. “Not this time.”

 

The room became silent, save for Indra’s scuffled walk. It remained that way until the last of the injured left the two alone in the infirmary. 

 

Rolling her gaze to the side, Akio watched Indra sink into a chair and lay her head on the countertop. She wanted to reach out, to make things better, to apologize time and time again. But it changed nothing. Two were still dead. The mole had yet to be found. And now, most everyone capable was either injured or traumatized. 

 

As the leader, it was all Akio’s fault. 

 

“You’re not alone anymore,” Indra whispered wearily. “Stop acting like it’s you versus the world.” 

 

Akio sat up slightly. “I’m the leader, I have to make the calls I—“ 

 

“And you need to listen to the wants of those around you. Just because Haim made you a leader doesn’t mean you’re a good one,” Indra hissed, sitting up in her chair. “Get off your elevated, floating chair before you get shoved off and killed.” 

 

Akio’s oi’ek drooped, brushing her shoulders as they glowed a deep blue, with pulses of purple shame. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Shaking her head, Indra limped toward her. “Stop apologizing.” She tapped Akio’s head with her cane. “Start listening and thinking. This isn’t going to get better by rushing in after every report of wrongs.” 

 

Indra stared vacantly in Akio’s direction, her milky white eyes void of any expression. “There’s suffering everyday, deaths, starving people—we aren’t gods. We can’t right every wrong, but we can fight the bastards who make it law and take advantage of anyone beneath them.” 

 

“Indra, we’re vigilantes. We have no backing, the resources are limited, and I don’t know what the starshit I’m doing,” Akio stated, swallowing past the lump in her throat. 

 

Indra’s lips pulled into a thin line, borderlining on the edge of a frown. “Then it’s about time you stepped up and we gathered the resources we need. Attacking the palace is only the beginning. There is going to be retaliation, more bloodshed.” Tapping her cane one time, her face radiated a terrifying level of hatred. “We’re rebels and it’s about time we lived up to it.” 

 

Akio shook her head. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.“What you’re talking about is—”

 

“War.” 

 

“I refuse to bring these people into something like that. Do you understand what we’re up against?” Akio asked, her voice took on a sharp edge. “We wouldn’t just be fighting the Lizz. We’d be fighting the whole Lizzassed planet, and the Commander’s.” 

 

Shaking her head, Indra gripped her cane so hard her hands trembled. “Then nothing will change. Do you condemn these people to death without allowing them a chance to fight?” She clenched her jaw. “We are going to be attacked no matter what we do.” 

 

Akio sat up abruptly, causing water to slosh over the side. “I will not ask them to fight against their own families,” she hissed through gritted teeth. 

 

Indra shoved Akio back down, leaving her hand firmly against her bare chest. “Family doesn’t support their loved ones slavery. They are blood and nothing more.” 

 

“You can’t make that call, it’s not yours to make,” Akio said, shoving Indra’s hand off. 

 

“It is when it’s what’s best for everyone.” 

 

“Then why didn’t Haim make you the leader?” Akio hissed. The instant the words were out of her mouth she regretted it. 

 

Tears gathered in Indra’s eyes, quickly replaced by rage to mask the hurt radiating from her devastated expression. “You take that back. You take it back right now.” 

 

Akio opened her mouth to speak, but no words would form. 

 

“Maybe it would’ve been better if Chester left you to bleed out. Then at least we’d have a competent leader,” Indra said, her voice trembling. 

 

Swallowing, Akio hung her head. “Yeah. Maybe it would have been better that way.” All the fight left in her vacated, leaving her exhausted: emotionally, mentally, physically. “Happy anniversary.”

 

Indra scoffed, and stormed from the infirmary. The door to their bedroom slammed so hard that the sound echoed down the stairs. 

 

Great. Akio would be sleeping in her office tonight. Again. A timer across the room indicated how much longer she needed to sit in the tub. Another hour. Stars. This was going to be a long night. 

 

“She doesn’t mean it, you know,” Hawke said, his voice drifting in from the hallway, 

 

Akio cringed. “How much did you hear?” 

 

Booted footsteps echoed on the tile. A chair scraped as Hawke made his way to Akio’s right side. His face was covered in a variation of brown paint, some pieces almost matched with his small ponytail. He sat down in the chair backwards, resting his chin on it. “All of it. There’s no privacy when you shout.” 

 

“I wasn’t the one shouting,” Akio muttered, laying back and closing her eyes. “How are you so sure she doesn’t mean it? Everyone is always questioning my leadership choices.” She sighed, sinking further into the tub. “Maybe she’s right. I suck at this.” 

 

Hawke chuckled. “If Indra was in charge, her temper would doom us all. You’re the only thing that subsides her rage. Like Haim used to.” His voice dropped low on the last sentence. The raw pain hadn’t faded. Akio doubted it ever would.

 

“Imagine, daily caning to chase away stupidity. Because we are all imbeciles if we don’t agree,” Hawke said, his light-natured voice returning. 

 

Shaking her head, Akio rolled her eyes, looking at him sideways. “She’s not that bad. . . Most of the time.” 

 

“There’s a reason for that.” Hawke paused, his lips pulling into a frown. It looked unnatural, an object out of place on his normally cheery face. “How much do you know about her past?” 

 

Akio opened her mouth to speak and paused. Besides knowing that her and Indra were both sentenced to death on the same day, she knew nothing. That was it. “I only know when we first met as children. She hasn’t told me anything else.” 

 

Hawke winced. 

 

Was that a bad thing? Why did he wince? Akio watched his next movements carefully, examining him like a target. There was something he wasn’t saying. Something bad. His brows being drawn in, the unspoken words in his honey-brown gaze, and the twitch of his tight jaw spoke of devastating secrets. Secrets Akio’s girlfriend had chosen to keep from her. 

 

Leaning in, Hawke dropped his voice low. “It’s not mine to tell but—don’t touch her. Especially not right now.” 

 

“Like the kiss. She panicked. Why did she panic?” Akio asked, keeping her voice to the same level of low. Her oi’ek twitched, glowing pale blue and deep yellow as hurt and uncertainty wafted from Hawke. 

 

He got up quickly, knocking the chair over. “I can’t tell you. Just don’t. Touch. Her. Please.” His voice cracked on the last word. Desperation took place of all else. “Stop reading me. I know you are.” 

 

Akio quickly averted her eye, breaking the connection. “Sorry. It's a habit.” How many times had Indra been touch averse and tolerated contact for her? How many times had Akio grasped her hand and caused fear and disgust to crawl all over her girlfriend's skin? 

 

“When your time is up, I’ll see you in the office. There’s some things I want to discuss, but not here. It’s not related to Indra,” Hawke stated, hurriedly retreating from the room. 

 

The clock chimed at the change of the hour, glowing a deep emerald green with the numbers. Thirty more minutes. Akio’s hip ached from her cybernetic leg hanging over the side of the tub. Lifting it slightly she acknowledged the repairs already done to it. Only her arm was left in pieces. . . A lot of pieces. Glass, wires, and shattered metal stuck out in all directions like jagged rocks on the shattered forearm. The hand was completely missing. Akio would say the rest was salvageable, if not for the large crack up the bicep which made the liquid inside drain entirely. As it was, this cybernetic was immobile. 

 

That was pretty bad. No wonder Indra was pissed. It was likely her girlfriend would have to remove the whole thing until they found a new one. Akio wasn’t looking forward to that surgery. Disconnecting her nervous system from the arm always had unpleasant side effects. 

 

Had her actions today been foolish? Absolutely. Would she repeat them for the chance to rescue members of her team? Yes. If there was even a breath of a possibility that someone could be saved, she’d lay down her life to take the risk. She doubted Indra would ever understand that. 

 

Akio tapped her hanging foot on the side of the tub. This had to be the longest thirty minutes of her life. If she ever had enough funds, she was investing in a healing capisol. 

 

The timer finally went off. Each needle stabbed into her skin removed itself slowly. Stumbling out of the tub, Akio yelped as her numb hip twisted and threw her to the floor. Blood clotting pills were set out for her on the counter, alongside a few bandages. She grabbed the countertop, pulling herself to her feet with her natural arm. Downing a pill dry, she used her mouth to help her free the bandages from their casings and awkwardly slapped them on. Smoothing them with her cheek. 

 

It was crooked like a toddler had been playing doctor, but it would have to do. Akio rifled through cabinets until she found the sling with metal supports she had used time and time again. No wonder Indra was so angry—Akio had been in a sling over ten times just the last turn. 

 

Wriggling into it, she didn’t have to make any adjustments. It was still fitted to her since she was the only one to use it. No one else had arm cybernetics, or at least, they weren’t idiotic enough to constantly break them. Until this was fixed, she wouldn’t be able to safely leave the mansion. Akio had a feeling that Indra would intentionally delay repairs to keep her out of the field as long as she could. 

 

With a sigh, Akio shrugged into a loose-fitted, black robe that dragged on the floor as if she were a child wrapped in her parents blanket. She left the slinged arm beneath. It would likely tear the fabric with the sharp edges of the destroyed cybernetic if she tried pulling it through. There was no need to add another crime to the list of things Indra was mad at her for. 

 

What was it that Hawke wanted to tell her? He seemed—off. It was clear he was deeply concerned for much more than Indra. Akio took the steep, carpeted steps upward, and went down the hall to the room she shared with her girlfriend. Rapping on the door, there was no response, as expected. 

 

“Hey, Indra. I just wanted to let you know I will be in my office.” Akio swallowed. This had to be the worst anniversary ever. It aligning with something sinister was not helping. “Whenever you’re feeling up to it, I want a redo of today. I love you.” 

 

A soft scuffle of steps went toward the door, but the handle didn’t turn. “I love you too, Akio,” Indra whispered hoarsely. Had she been crying? 

 

Placing her hand on the door, Akio imagined for a moment that Indra was mirroring the gesture on the opposite side. Their stance on the days ahead was building a wall between them. Every week that passed Akio could feel the distance widening. 

 

“When you’re ready, we need to talk about what happened. I promise not to argue, I just want to listen and understand why you’re so angry,” Akio stated quietly. Maybe, just maybe if she found out the why, the growing gap would close. 

 

Indra pulled the door open just wide enough to hand Akio a small box. Even through the slim crack, sweat causing her clothes to cling to her body was visible. Her oi’ek hung limply on her shoulders, as if disconnected entirely. “We’ve met twice. Before you found me here,” Indra said, her words broken and exhaled between gasping breaths. “Remember—remember Saso.” 

 

The door closed. 

 

Stumbling back, Akio’s eye widened. What did that mean? Her fingers closed tightly around the box in her hand. Did this hold the answers? How was Indra connected to Him? The scars on Akio’s abdomen burned, like the claws that caused them were scraping across her skin, taunting her for her mistake. 

 

Nobody is innocent. 

 

He was not innocent. 

 

The monster got away. Akio was the one who let him. Glancing up at the bedroom door, her gut twisted. However Indra was connected to that, Akio had a feeling that the mistake caused a ripple effect, bringing forth the suffering of thousands—her girlfriend included. As much as she wanted to resolve this, to find out the truth, Akio knew that dredging up that trauma would make it impossible for her to do the job she needed to. She still saw him in her dreams. If she dwelled too long, she’d see him in every dark corner. 

 

Later. She would deal with this later. Hawke had something to tell her, something important. Akio took the remaining hall, past the statues of previous leaders, the last one being Haim. His immortalized stare was kind, as if he was saying, “You can do this, there’s a reason I chose you.” 

 

Akio glanced from the stony whiskers, to the tips of his Gebul ears. “What if you chose wrong? What if your disease made you lapse in judgment and give this position to the most unworthy of all?” 

 

There was no response. Not that it was expected from the statue of the long dead. But part of Akio wished there had been something to quell the uncertainty. She took the stairway up to her office, the one that she once watched Haim die in. Hawke jolted when she swung the door open with a bit too much force and bounced it off the wall. He was sitting at a chair in front of her desk. 

 

Various paintings of landscapes hung on the white walls, Akio didn’t have the heart to take them down, even after all this time. Black curtains were drawn to block out the light from the large window to the left. The once spacious area surrounding the large desk was cluttered with boxes of information she had yet to learn. There was so much to do, and never enough time to do it. 

 

Wordlessly, Akio closed the doors and made her way across the dimly lit room. Red vines glowed from the ceiling, casting an eerie, almost murderous glow on the walls. It warped the landscapes into battlefields, covered in blood. Pulling out her chair, Akio took out a holopad, doing an eye scan to get past the first screen. She adjusted her golden eyepatch, making sure it covered the vacant eye socket. 

 

“What brings you to me today, Hawke?” Akio asked casually. Her fingers hovered over the notepad, preparing to write down anything he told her. 

 

Hawke swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously on his tan, muscular neck. Straightening his spine, he folded his hands in his lap. “I know who the mole is.” 

 

Akio’s hearts thundered in her chest. Her oi’ek turned clear, too overwhelmed to display any color. “Do you have any proof to support these claims?” 

 

Retrieving a small, retangular recording device from his pocket, Hawke placed it on the desk. “After the failed rescue attempt, I circled back to the castle. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.” He flicked on the device. 

 

A green, 3D holorecording flickered to life. Through a small crack in the wall, three Draken were visible. “I can’t believe she managed to take them out. Even without being prepared.” 

 

The tallest one snorted. “That’s because those idiots were only trainees. We should’ve been the ones sent.” 

 

“She’s not supposed to die yet. That was only to act as a scare tactic,” a familiar, deep male voice stated. 

 

It can’t be. 

 

The clank of metal caused the holorecording to waver. When it stabilized, a cyborg more machine than man came into sight. 

 

Akio’s holopad slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor. 

 

“Bolivar.”