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    Cia
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Ancalagon - 122. Chapter 122

The first time someone hit a button on their belt, the same one I’d seen Garjah wear so many times, and a light shimmered over them, I didn’t realize what it was. The second time I gawked. The third, I realized that their suits were really some sort of personal force shield technology. We had barely made ours small enough for ships, much less a person!

It was hard to accept that personal security of a shield was equal to the feeling of being encased in a suit, however. “Will that really work?” I asked.

“Of course.” Garjah tilted his head. “Do you believe I would put myself at risk when I have you to come back to?”

“You better not,” I answered.

“Be safe,” Garjah said as he dipped his head to kiss me. “I will be back soon.”

“Promise?” I muttered to him quietly. “I won’t wait here forever.”

“I swear.” He saluted me, and I pressed my lips together. He took that seriously, and so would I. The officers he left me with, two of the oldest who had worked for him this time, and I took refuge in the alcove of a building slightly down the road and across the way. We could see, but we weren’t in the direct line of sight. Garjah had pointed out exactly where he wanted me to stand when we walked by.

Bouncer whined, staring up where Garjah went. I knew he wanted to go with him, but he couldn’t climb down a building. Instead, he kept me corralled, like he knew where Garjah wanted me and was determined to keep me there.

We didn’t have to wait long, but the assault, when it started, was nearly soundless. The officers appeared over the top of the building and were sliding down the side, and the walls just… disappeared. I expected an explosion.

I couldn’t pick out Garjah from the others, no matter how hard I tried. He was probably one of the first ones in. All I could do was stand there, watch, and wait. It was excruciating.

“Please let him be okay.” I wasn’t sure who I was asking, but I’d ask anyway.

 

When the officers came for me, I nearly lost it. “Where’s Garjah?” I demanded. He was supposed to be right back, not send someone for me.

“He’s fine. He just wants you to come to him. Timok is with him, and they are overseeing the transfer of the Kardoval to secure quarters.”

“Timok?” Timok wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t hurt, would he? “When did he get here? I thought you said Garjah was fine!” Or maybe he would.

“Two of the officers with the Kardoval were hurt. Garjah is fine.” The officer doing all the talking sent the males with me to the detention center. “Garjah wants four high priority cells prepared with all the comforts. These are our leaders, after all, not common criminals.”

I snorted. “Common criminals would be better. The Kardoval knowingly deceived your people, probably for generations, to keep their own power regime going. They could have turned it around at any time, opening up your culture to outside influences and letting your people make their own decisions.”

“It is what Garjah wanted.” The officer’s voice was icy, and I didn’t have to imagine how much he disapproved of what I said. Oh well. I didn’t care. I didn’t appreciate the way the Kardoval had treated me or Garjah.

We started walking down the road, and my old guards went to the left toward the detention center as soon as we reached the corner. “It’s safe to go inside through the childcare center now?” I asked.

“No, we’re going to go a different way,” one said.

I frowned. “Which way?”

“The building beside here has an access way we didn’t know about.” They indicated the one past the building Garjah had breached.

“Really? All right.” It was better than exposing the young.

We entered the building, then went to a lift. I went in after one officer, and then the doors suddenly closed behind me. “Wait! Bouncer!”

The officer turned from the screen where he’d pushed a button. “What’s wrong? Where’s the cerops?” He looked around the small lift, as if the space could hide Bouncer somewhere.

“He got shut out. Open the doors!”

“We’re already going up. He won’t attack my partner will he?” The officer’s eyes were wide. “It was an accident. He’ll bring him right up, if he’ll get into the next lift.”

“Of course he’ll follow me. He’d follow me even if you don’t bring him up in a lift.” Bouncer would find me, even if he had to climb the walls himself.

“Oh, good. Garjah would kill me himself if anything happened to either one of you.” The officer relaxed out of the rigid posture he’d been in with his lower hands behind his back, and he put down his upper hands that he’d held up placatingly.

“Yes, he—” The lift doors opened. We must be at the building’s connection point. I got ready to step out, wanting the second lift with Bouncer to be able to arrive soon.

“Hello, human.”

I froze in disbelief. Standing in front of me, and very much not in custody in the other building, was Mereval. She smiled primly, though wrinkles crinkled the sides of her face and marred the once smooth skin and her hair was hanging limp down her back.

“Surprised?” She tsked. “So trusting still. It must be a flaw of your kind.”

A prick of icy fire struck the back of my shoulder, and my knees collapsed.

Copyright © 2020 Cia; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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