Warm water splashed over her lips, and she opened her mouth to catch every drop. The trickle that ran over her tongue was small, but to Krystle it felt like a soothing waterfall. She swallowed, and the water was pulled away. She needed more. Krystle slowly opened her eyes, feeling as though the effort would kill her. She was in a dark room...no... it was a tent, made of coarse cloth. She felt the fur of some animal skin underneath her. She heard a rustling beside her, and then the movement of a woman moving to put down a waterskin.
"More," Kyrstle said in a weak voice. The woman turned to her and babbled some unintelligible reply, then bustled out of the tent, barking an obvious order at a woman sitting by the wall before letting the tent flap close behind her. Krystle reached for the waterskin, but it was beyond her reach and she couldn't make her body move toward it. The other woman in the room sat quietely sewing some garment that lay heaped in her lap. Krystle looked around her but didn't see much. The tent was small and dark. There were blankets and animal skins piled in the corners, and the floor was laid with some kind of woven reed. She herself lay on a thick fur, with a thin blanket covering her. She still wore her own clothes, bu they would need to be replaced soon. They were filthy and torn in many places. She did not know what had happened to her shoes. Another quick look around her surroundings didn't reveal them.
Muffled voices outside the tent announced their coming before the doors were pushed aside. A woman entered first, her manner deferential to the man who followed her. She held the door back as he strode in, confident and sure of himself. Krystle recognized him instantly, and her breath caught in her chest; she had thought she'd never see him again. "Jason!" she exclaimed as loud as her weak body would allow her. He walked over and knelt beside her to take her hand in his. "You... We..." she stammered. Taking a breath, she tried again. "I thought you were dead!"
"No," he chuckled ruefully. "I'm not dead. Not yet anyway."
"You were lost..."
He laughed outright at this. "I know exaclty where I am, my friend. You're the one who was lost and nearly dead when we found you."
Krystle laughed with him. There was a time when his good-natured teasing would have made her feel inferior, but she had long since proven herself his equal in both fighting and strategy. They had each saved the other's life on numerous occasions.
Their laughter subsided, and Krystle looked up at him seriously. "I missed you," she said quietly.
"I missed you, too." He looked back into her eyes, and for a moment she was reminded of the easy way they had worked together and the strength they had found in each other. Then his eyes pulled away and he continued in a businesslike voice. "But you're here now. No more wandering alone in the desert for you. Soldier or no, your survival skills are pathetic." He tried to smile, but she could hear the worry in his voice.
"Where are we?" she asked, trying to lighten the conversation.
"We're in the Sahara," he replied.
Krystle made a face. She hated the desert. "Why are we here, of all places?"
"I've kindof become the leader of this little tribe. We're heading toward civilization."
"How did you become their leader, oh great one?" she teased.
He smiled. "When I got away from the war I made my way to their village. They took me in, taught me the language, offered me a home..."
"You weren't going to stay, though, right?"
He ran rough-shod over her alarm. "Desert raiders came in and looted the village. The men tried to fight, but they had no chance. Most of them were killed, and the rest were either wounded or too old to fight."
"How did you escape unharmed?"
He dropped her hand and threw his arms open wide. "Who're you talkin' to? I know you haven't seen me in awhile, but I still know how to fight."
Krystle could have laughed. There was something comforting in his old familiar cockiness. She grinned up at him instead. "I don't know, Jase. You could never take me in a fair fight."
"Well," said Jason, mockingly serious, "I wasn't going to tell you this, but that one time when you beat me... I let you win."
This time she did laugh. "Yeah, right, jerk. You couldn't take me if you tried."
He chuckled for a moment, then sat down on the ground and shifted around until he was comfortable. "So, how's your father?" he asked casually.
"He's good," she replied. "The heart attack didn't slow him down at all. He still works as hard as ever."
"I'm glad to hear that. Your dad's a good man."
"Thank you."
"And what about your brother? How's he doing?"
"Taken," she replied shortly.
Jason was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "When did it happen?"
"A couple months ago. He was spying on Com headquarters. We haven't seen him since."
"Carson was a good spy. What happened?" He sounded concerned.
"We don't know. I think maybe he just got too close to one of their sensors. He and Jasmine had had an argument that night, and he was angry. You know how Carson got when he was angry." The words sounded wrong when she said them. "He was usually really good at getting us information. It's been tough without him." No, it hadn't. Had it? She wasn't sure. The story seemed right in her head, but sounded wrong to her ears.
"You have other spies at the base, though, right?"
"We have a few in the States, and a pretty good crew up in Canada, but nothing like we once had. A lot of the men have gone to join the fighting. They followed you, you know." She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "It's stupid! It's just plain stupid. They know the war is just a distraction. We've told them thousands of times. They're killing themselves off, thinking they're doing the right thing but they're just wasting themselves. They're good men, and we need them where their work will count!" She ranted out her frustration, her words flowing before she had time to think.
Jason was quiet for a moment, regarding her with deep, troubled eyes. "The war is not pointless," he said quietly.
"You used to think it was. You were as against it as I am. What happened?"
He sighed. "A man just gets tired, Krystle." He scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. "Tired of the waiting, the planning, getting little bits of information that it takes us months, sometimes years to be able to make any sense out of it. And longer than that to come up with any kind of plan. I kept hearing about those people dying, my own family members dying!" His voice was raised. "There are outside forces that come in and invade our land that are more of a real threat than the Coms!" He paused, taking a deep breath. Suddenly he looked at her with an intense gaze. "We're already dying from the inside. I didn't want to have to face an outside force on our land, too. Can you understand that?" He sounded desperate, hopeless, and exhausted. "I just... felt that I could do more out there than I could with you. I wanted to go out and meet danger instead of waiting for it to come to me."
"Jason, we're the real fighters." She struggled to raise herself up on her elbow... and failed. She settled instead for grabbing his hand and staring up into his face. "We have to take down the Coms. If we destroy them, we'll have our nation back. We'll have our freedom again. The war is a diversion, to keep the people scared and confused and focused on the threat outside the States rather than the one inside it. Why did you buy into that ridiculous dogma of theirs?"
"Maybe..." he began, "Maybe they have a point, Krystle."
"You didn't just say that." Krystle was aghast.
"Well, I mean, it's just that..." he sighed and started over, running his suntanned fingers through his dark hair. "Look, I left because I wanted to see some action and feel like I was doing some good. But after seeing the state of another country, I started to think that maybe we don't have it so bad. Yeah, the Coms can be a little oppressive sometimes, but overall we have it way better than just about everybody else."
"They take away our freedoms, Jason, our families and our homes."
"But they give us homes in the first place. We are well-fed and we have clothes on our backs and jobs to go to every day. We have opportunities to learn and grow and live in luxury here. Most people are just trying to survive. They're happy if they have a table with a full meal on it. That's worth something, and we have that here."
Krystle took her hand out of his. She withdrew in on herself. Staring up a t him, she remembered who he had been, what he had believed. He had always been full of fire and passion. Freedom had called to him, lured him on, inspired him, and he in turn had inspired those around him. His had been an uncompromising passion for their cause. He had fueled the people on with his belief and his courage. There was nobody she had admired or believed in more. It had been an honor and a privilege to fight beside him. She suddenly realized what else was different about him... what she had seen in his eyes. He had lost his focus, his faith.
"What happened to you?" she suddenly asked.
He pulled back slightly, confused. "When?"
"The last time I saw you was before you left fo the war. You're different, now. What happened to you?" she repeated.
"War changes people, Krystle. You know that. I saw a lot of death and agony. I knew loneliness. I was there for almost a year before I got out. That's a long time."
"No." She was completely calm, completely detached. The world seemed to become clearer around her, and she proceeded with a complete confidence, a complete knowledge that she was right. "No, it's something else. I fought at your side for six years. I know what fighting does to you. I've been at war as long as you have, but I've never seen you this way."
"Like I sai..." he tried to reply, but she cut him off.
"Why did you leave in the first place? You didn't buy into their dogma. And you didn't go for the action. I know you better than that. You loved getting information and putting the pieces together. You love strategy. You're not one to accept being a simple soldier, and you have no way of becoming a higher officer; you knew that. Why did you leave us, Jason? What happened to you?"
She saw the angry glint in his eye. "What about you?" he shot back. "Why are you here?"
"What?" She wasn't defensive, only confused. She knew what was coming, in her heart of hearts, but she couldn't find the thoughts to define it. But she waited patiently, knowing that it would become clear in a moment.
"You're accusing me of abandoning the cause, and yet you're here in the desert with me. Why did you leave?"
Krystle opened her mouth to answer, but found no words. She thought for a moment, thinking back, trying to remember. "I..." she began.
Suddenly chaos broke loose outside the tent. Horns sounded in alarm and Krystle heard the voices of women and children screaming. She tried to rise from her bed, but her body would not obey her commands. She flopped back down to the floor and looked weakly at Jason. He had his hunting knife out and was halfway to the door. "Stay here," he commanded grimly. Then he was gone.
She obeyed unwillingly. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to get up and join the fight. She knew from hard experience that if she did not fight, she would get seriously hurt. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, giving her strength she did not have and couldn't afford to lose. She rolled to her stomach and pushed herself up so she was sitting on the mat. Panting with effort, Krystle looked around her for something to use as a weapon. Her knife had been taken and was probably hidden away with her shoes. Seeing nothing, she tired to stand up but her legs buckled beneath her. She landed hard on her shoulder and tried unsuccessfully to bite back the cry that escaped her lips.
Krystle heard Jason give a wordless yell outside the tent, and across from her she heard the tent split apart as a knife was forced through the thick fabric. Desperate tears coursed down her cheeks as she watched the knife cut a slit in the tent's wall down to the ground. She tried once more to rise, to face the danger on her feet, but once again, her body rebelled. She yelled once for Jason, knowing he would come to her aid if he could. There was no reply, no answering yell, nothing. Despair overtook her. She was completely helpless, and she knew it. Always before she'd been able to defend herself, and the fact that she had no chance of fighting scared her more than the danger that was entering the tent.
The man who came through the slit he'd made in the heavy cloth was dressed in the tans and greys of the desert raiders. His head was wrapped in cloth that shielded his eyes from the harsh sun and his face was veiled so that only his eyes showed. He entered slowly, cautiously, knees bent and long knife held up to defend against an attack that he expected at any moment. he glanced around quickly, scowling when he found nothing worth looting. He stood up straight, convinced there was nobody there to threaten him, and his scowl turned to a hoarse chuckle when he turned to look at her lying helpless, terrified on the floor.
"Hello," he said. "What have we here? A soft whitey in the leader's tent." His speech was soft and quick, but Krystle had no trouble understanding his words- or his intent. He moved across the tent to her, fingering his blade. "You must be an expensive slave, eh? Good at what you do." He crouched down beside her and fingered her hair. "Don't move, now, slave girl."
Krystle understood the meaning of his words, and tried to be offended, but found that her fear was too strong to allow for any other emotion. Her blood pounded in her ears; she lost all sense of time and place. The battle raged on outside, be she heard only the slick oil of his voice. It slid through her mind like a snake, entrancing her, paralyzing her. her vision started to go dark. She willed herself to stay awake, to stay aware, but her body would not obey. For the first time in her life, Krystle Bordran, warrior of the Sixth Realm, a captain of the Revolution, fainted from fear.
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