Chapter 2
Darkness. A long, dark hand reaching out – fingers like rope, claws like knives.
Reaching; striking, and she couldn't get away from them. Mist swirling around her.
Sienna awoke with a scream, her chest aching as she gasped for breath.
“It's okay, little one.” She felt a cool hand on her wrist, calming magic flowing into her. Desmond was sitting beside her bed, his calm face waiting patiently as he always had. Desmond had always been patient with her – when her magic was out of control; when she couldn't walk straight; when her language was broken. He had always given her the impression he would wait forever for her to take the tests, if that's what it took.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes fluttering.
“It was just a dream,” Desmond tried to assure her. “Nothing more.”
“It was…” She fought to wrap her words around the Basic language. “Frightening.”
“Yes, I know,” he said. “But we have nothing to fear from the galaxy, or from anything, for magic can always protect us. Isn't that true?”
She said nothing, her heart still pounding.
“Sienna?”
“Yes.” She lay back against the pillows, pushing her sweaty, dark hair out of her eyes. “Yes.”
“Here,” he said as he handed her a cup of water. She dehydrated so quickly that it almost seemed pointless to be constantly handing her water. It was something that they discovered early on in their lives – one of the constant battles. “Drink.”
“What time is it?” she asked him.
“It's nearly two in the afternoon.” Desmond sat back. “You and Nathaniel had quite the night, I heard.”
“I threw up,” she said, finishing the water glass. “Nineteen times, at least.”
“Lovely,” he said, wondering if he should refill it. “I'll be honest with you, Sienna. I don't like the temperature you're running. For an hour or two, it's one thing, but the whole night and into the afternoon is concerning.”
She tensed up. “Don't,” she said, and he sighed.
“I don't see that I have a choice,” he said, referring to the impending trip to the med bay. “I can go with you, but we're walking on dangerous ground.”
“Tara knows nothing,” Sienna protested. “She's more harmful than helpful.” Tears filled her eyes; the trauma of previous med bay trips mixed with the emotion the latest fever had brought overwhelming her.
“I'm not going to simply dump you there,” he said. “I'll come with you, and I will supervise any treatment she prescribes.”
She drew her long legs up to her chest.
“I want Nathaniel,” she said. Desmond raised an eyebrow and smiled.
“There was a time when you only wanted me to come everywhere with you. Do you remember that?”
She paused.
“You did,” he said. “You didn't trust Nathaniel; you wanted me with you every moment. Now I'm being replaced?”
“No!” she cried before she realized he was joking.
“Come on,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand. “You're burning up, little one. It's damaging.”
“I have to…”
“You don't have to change,” he said, softly. “You're likely going to be admitted.”
“I don't want to,” she cried, and he sighed. She may be twelve now, but she sounded as young as when they first met her. “Please.”
“We'll see what Tara advises,” he said. She knew better than to her argue with him for an extended period of time, and so she threw back the covers, slowly throwing her legs over the side of the bed. She took his hand, pressing on it to help herself up. He thought she would be fine, despite her hand shaking. Her eyes were alert, and her teeth gritted as she focused on the simple task of getting out of bed.
He felt the shift in magic before he saw her falter. Her life force flickered, and then for one horrifying moment, dissipated as she fell into his arms.
It came back almost right away, but it scared him as she went limp. Sienna fainted often, but this was much different.
He put his foot up on the bed to hoist her into his arms, his heart pounding. She was so light, and he cursed himself, wondering if there was something he had missed – something crucial in the last few days. What had she eaten? Was she not drinking? Was there a virus going around? Why did she weigh so little?
‘What's happening?’ Nathaniel's thoughts shot through his brain loud and clear. Their bond was strongest in moments of urgency.
‘Med bay,’ Desmond managed to shoot back, clumsily opening the door. He was grateful for choosing new rooms last year that were not far from the med bay, precisely for this very reason.
“Help!” he bellowed as he made it through the sliding glass doors. His calm demeanor was gone as he almost tripped. She still wasn't waking up.
The next few moments were a flurry of activity as the medics rushed forward. They babbled to each other, taking her limp body as a stretcher became available. There was magic, tubes, and wires being prepared for her. An oxygen mask went over her face. Tara, the head medic, came rushing in, placing her hands on Sienna's face.
“Creator,” she swore, turning to look at Desmond. “How long has she been like this?”
“At least the night,” Desmond replied, trying to step forward. Tara half growled at him.
“I can fix this. But we're looking at days of treatment, and you're not going to like most of it.”
“Treat her immediate needs,” Desmond said. “When Nathaniel arrives, we will discuss the long term.”
“Of course.” Tara rolled her eyes. “The two of you are going to kill her, you know that?”
“Excuse me?” Nathaniel made it through the doors, and he did not look happy. He could see that Sienna was in caring hands with the nurses, and her chest was rising and falling. His rage at the statement was directed at Tara. “When exactly did you become qualified to tell me what was best for my Tiro, Tara?”
“When?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “When I became a medic and you two started subscribing to weird, alternative therapies.”
“Enough,” Desmond snapped. “Treat her, and we will discuss this later.”
That was enough to snap Tara into action. “Stay there,” she said as she pointed to the waiting room chairs. “I'll call you.”
And then she was gone, disappearing through the white curtains.
Desmond sank into a chair, rubbing his face with a tired sigh. He felt Nathaniel sit beside him and turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Another day in these chairs,” he said. “Same old, same old.”
“What happened?” Nathaniel asked, concerned.
“She just flickered out,” Desmond said, at last. “I was taking her here anyway, but I think the effort of it was too much. She'll be all right. I can already feel her getting stronger. But Nathaniel…for one moment, I felt nothing. No life force.”
“Creator,” Nathaniel swore, leaning back. “That's never happened before.”
“No,” Desmond agreed. “Something new has happened. I don't know what it is, but I'm sure Tara will get to the bottom of it.”
“And argue with us all the way,” Nathaniel replied wearily. Desmond's com-link went off, and he saw that it was Mariah announcing her arrival. Nathaniel glanced at it and then nodded toward the door. “Go. I'll be here.”
“I'll stay,” Desmond said, but Nathaniel shrugged.
“Go. You haven't seen Mariah in weeks. I'll call you if something changes.”
“Thank you,” Desmond replied as he rose. “I won't be long.”
“One of us should be happy and relaxed,” Nathaniel answered, watching his Maestro go.
Once he did, he slumped more into the chair, sighing. They did spend far too much time in these chairs for their own good. It was starting to feel like this particular chair was molding to him.
He was lost in his own thoughts when he felt someone sit beside him.
He looked up to see a Maestro about his age sitting beside him. Tall with her blonde hair pulled into a pony tail, he vaguely recognized her as Laura, who had been in his class back when he was still studying. She was skilled in diplomacy, and absolutely stunning. With flashing blue eyes and a sculpted face, she turned heads wherever she went.
“Nathaniel,” she said with a smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
She was still dressed in quest clothing, dusty and in need of a shower. It didn't make her any less beautiful, he thought.
And then he shook himself. Why was he thinking these things?
“And you, Laura,” he replied. “What brings you into the world's most uncomfortable seating arrangements?”
“Ah, my Tiro, Devon, just got back from a quest and needed a little tune-up,” she said.
Nathaniel smirked. “Is he a robot?”
“He learns like one,” Laura answered. “Smartest fourteen-year-old I know.”
“Mine is twelve,” Nathaniel said. “Sienna.”
“Everyone knows Sienna,” Laura said with a smile. “She's got quite the reputation. Is she in, too?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “Just a little scare.”
“I'm sorry,” she said, knowing most of the story. “That must be hard.”
“I'd like to say I get used to it,” he replied, “but I don't, of course.”
“Of course,” she said. “She'll be all right?”
“I'm sure,” he forced the smile back on his face. “And Devon? Was he injured in battle?”
“He just needs to a see a medic for a moment,” Laura answered strangely. Nathaniel looked puzzled but decided to let it go. If Laura didn't want to share, then it wasn't his business. Some Maestros kept everything about their Tiro under wraps, choosing to accept no outside help in their training. “He'll be fine.”
“That's good,” he settled back into the chair. “Where were you?”
“On Rhona,” she smiled at him. “Nothing like a little life and death prisoner exchange to get your blood pumping.”
“Oh, that's amazing,” he said as he grinned. “I did that quest a few times. The adrenaline rush is like nothing else.”
“That's what Devon likes,” Laura said. “I keep trying to force diplomacy on him like a bad Maestro, but he wants to be a warrior.”
“Aye, I know that story,” Nathaniel answered. “Sienna wants to be a warrior, too.”
“Oh,” Laura said. “But you don't want her to be?”
“Well, she can't,” he said, confused. He thought this was obvious.
Laura shrugged, “I don't know. I just think you should let them walk the path they want to walk. Any one of us could be hit by a ship tomorrow”
“Hopefully not,” Nathaniel answered. “My piloting skills aren't that bad.”
Laura laughed. “Wasn't it you who backed a ship into a post once?”
“I was thirteen!” he protested. “You can't hold that against me. At least it was in a simulator. I'm surprised you remember that.”
“Oh, I remember that.” She gave him a look. “You impress me, Nathaniel. I always keep an eye out for your news.”
“Oh,” he said, unsure how to answer. “Thank you.”
Laura laughed. “Don't be so serious,” she said. “We've got hours of sitting in these chairs; we might as well make use of them.”
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, confused. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a deck of cards.
“Can you play Five Pence?”
“I was born playing Five Pence,” he answered, pulling a small table over. It looked like it was half a hundred years old, but it would do for now. “Deal.”
“I'll bet you're out in…” she glanced at the clock. “Eight minutes.”
“You're on,” he said, grateful for the distraction. Laura was so cheery, so happy, and he couldn't help but smile. Maybe today wouldn't be so horrible after all.