Thursday's Child

Chapter 6

"Lily, no! I haven't nailed those down yet!" Nora's voice came from somewhere below. It took her a moment to realize that it was directed at her, and a further moment to understand the implication. By then she had already crawled forward onto the platform, and the loose boards had already shifted under the weight. Lillian's fingers sought to grab onto something, anything, but they touched only air as she tumbled down from the oak's high branches to the ground below.

She lay still for a time, struggling to regain the breath her fall had forced out of her lungs. The arm she had landed on hurt, but otherwise she couldn't feel any serious injuries. She owed her life to the centuries' worth of decaying leaves that covered the ground.

"What happened here?" An overly loud voice cut through the fog that had clouded her mind on impact. The sound reverberated inside her skull until it grew into a steady throb at her right temple. Gritting her teeth, Lillian opened her eyes and raised herself up on her elbows, shutting them again for a moment when dizziness overwhelmed her.

A blur of faces leaned over her. Among them she recognized Nora, pale and terrified.

"Are you ok?" she asked, putting a hand to Lillian's forehead, "Anything broken? I'm so sorry. I tried to warn you, but --"

"I'm fine," she answered, sitting up. She felt far from it, but she wouldn't admit the weakness to the last. Besides, there was no need to make Nora feel any more guilty. Was Nora feeling guilty, though? She had said she never wanted to see an Agent again unless she got to... No, she was just being paranoid. An old habit, but one she would have to get rid of -- there was no use imagining assassinations at every corner.

"What happened?" It was Alexander, breaking through the throng of people to kneel down beside her. "All of you, get back to work. You too, Nora."

"Go," Lillian told her, attempting a reassuring smile. "It wasn't your fault."

"Were you trying to get yourself killed?" Alexander asked harshly as soon as the others had left. Weakened from the fall, Lillian hadn't the strength to give a calm and composed answer.

"As if you would care," she said instead, feeling irrationally angry with him for catching her in a vulnerable moment.

"I do, as a matter of fact. The things you know may be our only hope!"

"Well, then I guess I should be glad to know you're only interested in my mind!"

"What!?"

What indeed? She had absolutely no idea what mad impulse had made her say it, and began to wish the earth would open up and swallow her whole, to save her from having to explain.

"Nothing," she managed weakly. "Can I get up now?" His hand was on her shoulder, firmly holding her down. She could have easily twisted his arm and escaped, but something told her that wouldn't be the best course of action.

"No," he said, and Lillian began to reconsider it. "I'll carry you back to camp."

"I'm touched," she said in a clipped voice, but Alexander ignored her. She would have protested more during the trip back to the clearing, but was prevented by fainting before he had made more than half a dozen steps.

"It's a pretty nasty concussion, but she should be fine. Keep her in bed, and calm."

Lillian opened her eyes cautiously, blinking to adjust to the dim light.

"What happened?" she asked weakly, even as memory flooded back. Tree. Fall. Oh, God, had she really said that?

Two faces turned to look at her. She could barely discern them in the greenish darkness, but one was clearly Alexander, while the other was an older woman she didn't know.

"Lay still," the woman told her, coming over to her side, "You've been out for almost two days."

Two days? The woman tried to force her to drink something from a clay mug, but Lillian pushed it away, turning worried eyes toward Alexander, who stood back near the tent's entrance.

"Anyo Creek?" she asked.

"We drove them back," he answered flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. Lillian searched his face, cursing the dim light, but found nothing there. She felt strangely uncomfortable.

"Good," she said, gathering the tatters of composure. "Look, about what I said before I passed out -- I did have a concussion."

"Of course," Alexander replied, his face stills a blank.

The woman finally forced her to drink the concoction, and then moved away to whisper a few words to Alexander. He nodded and she swept out, carrying her bag.

Alexander turned back, pulled up a roughly hewn wooden stool, and sat down beside Lillian's cot.

"How do you feel?" he asked, oddly gentle.

"Fine." She attempted to shrug.

"Are you ever not fine?" he said with a sound that was half laugh, half sigh.

Lillian looked at him suspiciously. "What use would admitting weakness be?"

"No use at all, I suppose."

"No. Do you have a point?"

"Just making conversation."

"I'm not sure I like your topics for small talk." A pause. "Were there many casualties?"

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "I think your topics for small talk leave something to be desired as well." He sobered. "More than a dozen injured. We were mostly able to pick them off before they could target us, but..."

"Deaths?"

"None." She felt lighter, relieved that this, at least, would not be on her conscience.

"In any case, few of the injuries were serious. Most have already been released, except you and three in the other tent."

"I wasn't hurt in the battle." It discomfited her, to be grouped with people who had risked their lives in battle while she was recovering from a fall. "Look," she said suddenly, "Is there anything you want to know, anything I can tell you?"

He looked at her in surprise. "I think at this point just about anything would be helpful."

Lillian took a deep breath, wondering where to start. "I think numbers are diminishing," she began, shocked at how thin and strained her voice sounded, "They act like everyone's expendable, and there haven't been too many new recruits. They've taken to drafting, which doesn't do much for morale. More people are being trained in technology, science, less in battle tactics. It fits what Nora told me about what they're planning. They probably don't expect much of a fight -- if there is, they may be defeated."

"It's possible?" She had closed her eyes to increase her concentration, but she could almost see his eager expression from his voice.

"Yes," she said, "I think so."

Chapter 7

"Lily?"

"Right here!" she answered, looking up and watching Nora walk over, brushing stands of hair off her face.

"Morgan wants someone to take some food up to the defenses. He has a horse loaded. You up for it?"

"Sure," Lillian said, standing up and dusting off her knees, "Never felt better."

"Good. You know --"

"Good morning," Alexander said pleasantly from behind Lillian's shoulder.

"Hey, Alex," Nora replied with a smile in his direction.

Lillian felt her face heating up, and looked down, suddenly finding the dry packed earth extremely fascinating. Residual effects of hitting her head, she told herself, there was no other possible explanation.

"I should be going now," she said quickly. "Wouldn't want to keep them waiting."

"Where are you off to?" Alexander asked. He turned toward her, his dark eyes friendly and candid. Still, Lillian reminded herself, there was too much she didn't know about him.

"To the fort in the foothills with provisions," Nora supplied, looking searchingly from one to the other.

"Mind if I join you?"

She shrugged. "If you want."

He waited in silence while she got the horse, a squat brown animal that was almost buried under bags of supplies.

"You won't be able to ride."

"I know," Lillian answered shortly, "You know horses can't be spared."

They set off, crossing the river single file at the narrow bridge, then making their way through the dense, gently rising forest. Early autumn sunlight dappled the ground with spots of light. A few birds sang and dry leaves crackled under four pairs of feet, the only sounds to disturb the stillness.

"Well?" Lillian finally said, unconsciously lowering her voice, "Have you come to enjoy the scenery or do you want to ask me something?"

"It's very nice scenery," Alexander said without turning.

"Did you grow up here?" she asked, surprising herself. It seemed it was to become a frequent occurrence, and Lillian hadn't yet decided whether she was glad. She glanced over at her companion and stopped in her tracks. He had gone deathly pale and stood staring fixedly straight ahead. Whatever it was he was seeing, it was clearly horrible.

"No," he said finally in a tight voice, "I didn't grow up here. Can we please keep walking?"

They went on in silence. A wide, sprawling meadow opened up before them, long yellow grass swaying in the breeze. Far in the distance, lavender mist obscured the peaks of the mountains that those below were willing to die for. They turned away, walking along the edge of the woods to avoid being seen.

"What about you," he said as they picked their way through the undergrowth, "Where did you spend your childhood?"

And, without a thought to what she was doing, Lillian told him everything, about the smell of the sea, and the sight of the small fishing boats near the horizon, the wind on her face, and her mother's cooking.

"What happened?" Alexander asked softly when she had finished, out of breath and dazed from the trip back into a different world.

"There was a fire." She fought to keep her voice even. "Our entire village burned down, I was one of the few survivors. A regiment of Agents came -- to keep away looters, they said, as if there was anything left to loot. It was back when they were still pretending to be a benevolent peacekeeping force. I was sixteen. Everything I knew was gone, I had nothing left. I needed to get away somehow, so I joined the regiment."

"Sixteen. You could say you grew up in the Society. Must have made it very difficult to leave."

"I'm not tempted, if that's what's worrying you. It's over, done. I've...I've never regretted anything more."

"Maybe it was what made you what you are."

"I'm not certain I like --" Lillian stopped, listening to the sound of approaching hoofbeats. A rider on horseback appeared on the far edge of the meadow, nearing them at breakneck speed. Just before reaching them, the horse was pulled up to a sudden, spectacular stop, directly in front of Alexander and Lillian. The rider looked down at them, her long red-blond catching the sunlight to form a bright halo around her face. She was stunningly, dramatically beautiful, the sort of woman about whom poetry was written and ballads sung.

She jumped down gracefully, making an almost noiseless landing. Lillian tore her eyes away from the vision and looked over at her companion. His expression reminded her of the shuttered way he had looked when she woke up from her concussion, but perhaps he had to be closed off so as not to be blinded.

"Alexander," the woman said, searching his face as if she too was trying to read his thoughts. She had a mellow, musical voice that seemed to match her as perfectly as the striking hair and graceful posture.

"Lyara," he answered coolly, nodding in her direction, "What brings you here?"

She smiled, a perfect, polished smile. "The pleasure of your company isn't enough?"

"Not to cross a continent on horseback. Were you alone?"

"Why, yes," Lyara Allain tossed her head in a show of playful defiance, "No one could be spared."

"And you didn't mind leaving your cell to pay a pleasure visit?"

"Goodness, you're very disapproving today. I wanted news of your progress, plans, strategies. I need to be sure we both have accurate information."

"You should have headed straight for the camp, then. They could have told you everything you want to know."

Lyara's arched eyebrows lowered impatiently. "I wanted to see you, Alex. I haven't seen you in ages."

Lillian, watching them both intently, saw Alexander's face soften. She winced slightly -- one of the packs was digging painfully into her chest.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to be harsh. You're welcome to join us -- we can talk while we travel."

Lyara nodded, pleased, and turned to Lillian, seemingly noticing her for the first time.

"Who's this? A new recruit?"

"Not exactly," Alexander answered. His expression may have been kinder, but it was no more open.

"Oh! It must be the ex-Agent. I got news of her joining your cell, and you could have knocked me over with a... Oh, I'm so sorry, talking about you like you're not even there." Lillian did her best to force her lips in a smile. "Well, I mustn't delay your delivery, so let's get going."

It became a deeply uncomfortable journey. Not that Lillian had been all too serene before -- telling Alexander about her early life had stirred up all sorts of long-buried memories. But then she had had the reassurance of the quiet walk and peaceful day to come back to. Now, she had nowhere to escape from the feeling of being superfluous.

Lyara and Alexander talked of strategies and tactics, their discussion peppered with the names of places Lillian had never heard of. She noted that Lyara kept attempting to lower the volume of the conversation, while Alexander repeatedly brought it back to a normal tone. She was grateful, but it was little help.

The terrain slowly rose up around them, though the distant mountains seemed no closer. Lillian's head began to throb with each step, but she gritted her teeth and tried to focus on the flow of words.

"I still think an all-out frontal assault would be the absolute worst course of action!" Lyara's voice rose, her graceful hands making emphatic gestures in the air. "We would be slaughtered, they wouldn't bat an eye!"

"Lillian has told me that their numbers are decreasing," Alexander replied. He was calm and rational against her passionate speeches, a trait Lillian was beginning to recognize.

For a moment Lyara was silent, her brilliant blue eyes darting from one to the other.

"'Decreasing' is a relative term," she said, "We still know nothing about their actual numbers. I refuse to risk the lives of the people under my command on intelligence that is --"

"Provided by a deserter and possible spy?" Lillian burst out, her face pale with rage, "How kind of you to protect them."

"Vague and indefinite," Lyara said smoothly. "I haven't accused you of anything, you needn't get upset."

Lillian didn't answer, concentrating on first moving one foot forward, then the other.

"I'm sorry I interrupted," Lyara said, sounding slightly petulant, "I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll go back to the camp now, like a good little girl." She jumped onto her horse and galloped away before Alexander could call her back.

"Unpredictable woman," he said with a mix of dry amusement and bewilderment, addressing no one in particular. Lillian nodded neutrally.

They reached the crest of a hill and all hell broke loose.

Chapter 8

Lillian had often berated herself for acting on impulse. This time, however, her soldier's impulses saved both her and her companion. Almost before the first shots reached them, she had dived behind a large tree trunk, dragging Alexander and the horse behind her, and drawing her old Society weapon all the while.

The tree, thick as it was, could not provide adequate shelter. Alone, she may have managed it, but she had others to consider. Bullets whizzed by all around them. If they remained in place, it would be only a matter of time before one of them was hit.

Coming out of hiding briefly, she shot off a volley in the approximate direction of the attack. Once back in the shelter of the tree, she leaned back against the trunk and checked her ammunition. There wasn't much left.

"They must be surrounding us, if they haven't already," she whispered to Alexander urgently, "A nicely-sprung trap!"

She became aware of firing to her left. Two guns were better than one, but they still wouldn't last long.

He turned back towards her. "A trap?"

"We'll discuss it later, if you don't mind. I've got a plan." She ducked out from behind the tree again and fired a few more times.

"Take everything you can off the horse and ride away when I give the signal." Her voce was crisp and commanding, effortlessly slipping back into the mask of a soldier. If Alexander noticed, he gave no sign.

"And you?"
Lillian's face turned stony with determination. "I'll stay to provide a diversion." She was prepared to argue, to defend her decision, but her words were met with silence, broken only by the Agents' guns and the sound of packs being dropped to the ground.

"Ready?" Lillian asked. She was -- like a drawn-back bow, poised to strike and taught with tension.
Alexander nodded. She readjusted her gun in her hand, brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, then shouted, "Go!"

In the adrenaline rush that always accompanied the excitement and deadly danger of battle, Lillian was only dimly aware of the receding hoof beats that signified Alexander's escape. She was too busy running and dodging, occasionally firing back. As soon as she saw a tree whose trunk provided a sufficient number of footholds, she climbed up, seeking cover among the dense foliage. She gave the Agents no time to target her, leaping swiftly from one tree to the next.

The natural ease with which she flew from one branch to another was something beyond training, beyond grace, and if any of her old instructors at the Society had seen it they would have been quite impressed and wondered how to teach the skill to their classes. Lillian could have told them what drove her, but it was highly doubtful that they could ever have understood the meaning of true desperation.

Finally, out of breath and feeling as if every heartbeat was as loud as an explosion, she stopped to rest, perched precariously on a branch just barely wide enough to support her. She could clearly hear the sounds of the Agents below, moving around and shouting orders back and forth.

"She must be somewhere around here," came a sharp female voice, "I could've sworn I saw --"

"That's what you said last time," a man grumbled. They both sounded vaguely familiar, and Lillian realized that she had probably known them, shared meals, assignments, and quarters with them, once upon a time.

"But this time I'm sure!" the woman said impatiently. "All of you, fan out and continue searching the area, and make sure you're thorough. You've already lost the man, if you let that," she called Lillian a particularly vicious name, "get away, you all go without rations for a week, is that understood?"

Whoever this woman was, Lillian thought, she obviously wasn't thinking about old times. She didn't dwell on what would happen if she were captured by someone who had been taught to hate her so much, but crept as quietly as possible to the end of the branch and prepared to jump. A leaf crumbled under her hand, and the Agent below looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of her prey.

"There she is!" she shouted, aiming her gun.

Lillian gave her no chance to fire it. Her bullet caught the woman below the left shoulder, low enough by a scant few inches, but Lillian didn't stay long enough to see her fall, running even faster, as if the fires of hell were at her heels.

Even after the sounds of pursuit were far in the distance she didn't dare slow down, could barely pause long enough to look over her shoulder. After an almost excessive amount of detouring and backtracking she finally turned in the direction of the fort. Night was falling quickly, chilling the air to a deep-blue crispness, and the last few rays of sunlight glinted off the far-away peaks of the mountains.

Lillian cautiously swung down to the ground, stopping to listen for any signs that she was still being followed. She heard nothing but the usual twilight noises, but when she set off towards the fort she stepped lightly, hardly breathing, now and then pausing to listen again. Every tree loomed ahead of her like a shadow, and behind every one she imagined dozens of Agents, poised ready to kill her or worse, take her back with them. She berated herself for her paranoia, told herself she was being silly, but nonetheless she couldn't remember ever having been as profoundly relieved as when she stumbled into the fire-lit brightness of the fort.

The man who let her in beamed at her and as soon as her eyes adjusted to the light she realized why. Alexander held court in the center of the common room, in one hand holding a steaming mug and with other gesturing emphatically to his captive audience. The sound of the door opening distracted him from his tale (in which Lillian was sure she heard her own name being mentioned), and he looked up and saw her.

Perhaps at other times she had had trouble reading his expression, but it was unmistakable now. He was glad to see her, certainly, but she could as well have called it that as comparing two hands clapping to a clap of thunder.
Lillian sank weakly into a chair as a human tidal wave broke around her. They patted her shoulders, shook her hands, all of them speaking at once. Alexander remained seated, and took a slow drink from his cup, his eyes never leaving hers.

Eventually, they saw her exhaustion, and then spent the better half of an hour apologizing and arguing over where she was to sleep, finally placing her in an empty storage room at the back of the fort. Even then, after she was reclining in bed amid a small tower of assorted pillows, people kept popping in, asking whether she was comfortable, or if she wanted something to eat. The stream of visitors was finally ended by a quiet voice outside her door saying,

"All of you, go to bed. What she needs most is rest, and you are preventing her from getting it."
A few moments later, the door opened and Alexander slipped in, carrying a lamp.

Lillian raised an eyebrow sleepily. "I thought you said I should be resting."

"You will, once we're finishing talking. I'll try not to take too long." He sounded almost contrite, and she was too tired to be unforgiving.

"Go ahead."

Alexander took a few steps forward, shining the lamp so that it illuminated both of their faces.

"What you said about a trap...?"

She raised herself up on one elbow. "Isn't it obvious? All that talk about not wanting to interrupt? She'd been to the camp first and then told the Agents where we were going."

"Lyara? You can't mean that."

"I do mean it! It's obvious, can't you see? She was just too eager to leave us and gave herself away."

Before she could say more, Alexander crossed the room rapidly and sank to his knees beside her bed, reaching out to grasp her shoulders. Lillian felt her heart lurching unsettlingly, but forced herself to meet his eyes.

"Listen to me," he said earnestly, "I know Lyara and she is not a traitor. Temperamental, unpredictable, yes, but she believes in the cause we're fighting for. She would never betray us."

Lillian inclined her head a mere fraction, not wishing to contradict him, but at the same time hating to lie. He remained kneeling, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, his eyes searching hers. After a long moment, he rose, picked up the lamp, and walked to the door.

"Where's Derek?" Lillian asked suddenly, blinking rapidly as if waking from a dream, "Isn't he in charge here?"

"He's on watch duty."

"He suspects me, doesn't he? He thinks I'm the traitor, he always has."

"Perhaps he does."

"Do you?"

"No," Alexander said softly, "No, I don't."

He went out, and Lillian was left in darkness. Exhausted as she was, she found it hard to sleep. Her thoughts flew around in circles, twisting to reveal the truth in ever-differing ways. She thought of Nora's anger, the Resistance members dying in the desert, her own finger pressing the trigger, and last of all, just before a dreamless sleep claimed her, she remembered who the female Agent had been.

Chapter 9

The girl sat on a rock near the sea, her bony knees drawn up to her chest. She shivered in her light dress, and pulled a rough woolen shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her hair, long and dark, escaped from its braid to whip about her face, but she didn't make the effort to brush it back. She was staring out at the ocean, watching where its gray expanse met the equally colorless sky. The sea was empty that day, and perhaps it would always remain so now.

A light touch on her shoulder startled her from her thoughts, and she spun around to face the intruder.

It was a woman, dressed in a strange dust-colored uniform. She was young, no more than ten years older than the dark-haired girl, but her face was already lined with experience, and her light hair contained some threads of gray.

"Who are you?" the girl asked warily, climbing down from the rock and backing away to the water's edge.

"I'm here to help you," the woman said. She held out her hands, palms up, showing them to be empty.

The girl shook her head. "You can't help me. No one can."

The woman sat down on the rock and patted the space beside her invitingly. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Lily," the girl answered, inching forward but refusing to sit.

"Just Lily?"

"Lillian. Lillian Beyrill," she said, then added with sudden finality, "My parents are dead."

The woman nodded. "I know and I'm sorry. But you still have a future, Lillian. You realize that, don't you?"

The girl looked at her with wide green eyes and said nothing.

"You could come with me and my friends," the woman continued, "We could take you to another village. Do you have any relatives?"

"No."

There was a silence and then she asked with a trace of curiosity, "Who are your friends?"

"We're part of a large society of people who want to make the world a better place. A place without any more suffering like yours."

"I'd like that," the girl said almost dreamily, turning back to look at the ocean.

"Then come with us," the woman said, and stretched out her hand.

Lillian woke at dawn the next morning, feeling oddly restless. Half-memories tugged insistently at her mind, but whenever she tried to focus on them they floated away like so many phantoms.

She shook her head to clear it of the distractions, and quickly dressed and braided her hair before unlocking the fort entrance and stepping outside.

The air was bright and fresh with dew, and the rising sun painted the world a pearly gold. A sentry was on duty -- not Derek, she saw with relief.

She walked some distance away and sat down on a tree trunk, absently picking at blades of grass while she tried to organize her thoughts into some semblance of order. There were some that she would have preferred to relegate to some dark, far-off corner of her mind, but they kept forcing themselves into the daylight, and she was forced to seek refuge in observing the world around her, trying to find some tranquility in its beauty.

She looked back at the wooden fort with a measure of pride, although her role in its construction had been necessarily indirect. It was the first in a series of fortifications that would stretch across the piedmont to block any Society invasion, and hopefully inflict some damage in the process. She had to admit, however, that she rather liked Alexander's idea of an all-out frontal assault. It was risky, certainly, perhaps even foolhardy, but she had always preferred some sort of action to sitting around and waiting to be attacked.

It was useless, Lillian realized with the ghost of a wry smile, she was too deeply involved now. There would be no peace for her while the Resistance needed her. But what about afterwards? She couldn't help thinking, Could there ever be peace for someone with so much on her conscience?

"Good morning." It was Alexander, walking up behind her and interrupting her train of though just when it was starting to become dangerously maudlin, though it was rather like escaping from the frying pan straight into the fire. She got up to face him, shivering in the cool morning air.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

She nodded, smiling cautiously.

An outsider would have found it a pretty moment -- the two of them standing perfectly still and silently regarding each other, the dewy sunlight highlighting their dark hair and softening their features. Lillian was no judge of the picturesque, but she rather though so too.

An air of expectation slowly settled on them, and she leaned forward slightly, feeling that any minute something would happen, something that would break the tension --

"Rider approaching!" the sentry called out, "It's Lyara."

-- but not quite that.

"Gods, I was so worried!" As soon as she dismounted, Lyara ran up to Alexander and gripped his arm. "Merri rode over last night to tell us what happened, and I felt so guilty! If I hadn't left you when I did --"

"There was nothing you could have done," he answered, and shot a glance at Lillian as if something had been proven. She said nothing, privately thinking that while a pair of pleading blue eyes might do for him, it would take more than some melodramatic theatricals to convince her.

They went inside to the mess hall where the fort's inhabitants were having breakfast at a long wood table. The air was full of the smell of food, loud voices, and the clang of cutlery.

A seat at the head of the table had been left vacant for Alexander, and, after exchanging greetings with everyone present, Lyara pulled up a chair beside him. Lillian had no choice but to drop into one of the only remaining places, which was close enough to hear their conversation, but not close enough to justify participating in it.

"I wanted to talk to you about what you said yesterday," Lyara began.

Alexander looked up from the slice of bread he was buttering and nodded encouragingly.

"I've been thinking about your idea of attacking them, and I've decided that it would probably be the best course. I'm as tired of this cat and mouse game as you, Alex," she said resolutely, "It's a risk, but it would be worth it."

His expression slowly changed from surprise to pleasure.

"I'm glad you see it that way. I really didn't think I'd be able to convince you."

Lyara smiled, and gave a little self-deprecating shrug. "I may be stubborn, but I'm not unreasonable. I just needed time to think it over."

"As for the risk," Alexander continued, "I think that we should only send a small team of our best, so that even if they are captured, the movement can go on."

Lyara nodded and said, "Of course," but Lillian could've sworn she saw a look of frustration pass over her face. She puzzled over it for a moment before turning back to her breakfast, trying not to listen to any more of their conversation.

The meal proceeded quietly until the door flew open and Derek strode in.

He stopped dead just inside the doorway and said, in an oddly chocked voice, "Lyara?"

Lillian watched a series of emotions pass over his face. She could identify a few -- relief, admiration, shock -- but the rest of the mix left her confused. There was some connection between the two, she realized, and she doubted either of them could be trusted.

"Hello, Derek," Lyara said calmly, "Why don't you join us?"

"First, I must talk to you."

"Later."

"But --"

Her voice sharpened, "Later."

He nodded reluctantly, and crossed the room to join the other two at the head of the table. They sat with their heads together, two dark and one a brilliant auburn, talking in quiet, urgent voices, Derek's occasionally rising with strong feeling. One by one, the others finished their breakfast and drifted away. Lillian, having no excuse to stay but reluctant to leave and uncertain what she would do once she did so, sat picking at the food on her plate until only a handful of people were left.

Alexander stood up to address them, and Lyara and Derek rose behind him with perfect, near-rehearsed timing. It was rehearsed, Lillian realized, rehearsed through years of camaraderie and teamwork. There were eddies of the surface, the constant arguments and disagreements, but below, for those three and others like them, ran a lifetime of shared history and a shared cause.

It was ironic, she thought, drawing from an inner well of bitterness she had never known existed. In the Society, she hadn't belonged in spite of her ten years' service because of her disillusionment, while here, she could believe with all her heart and yet never overcome the shadow of her past, the fact that these people had been fighting the Society even while she had joined it. Either way, always an outsider.

"We have decided on a plan of attacking the enemy," Alexander was saying, "Derek, Lyara, and I will be going to the main camp. Can send messengers to the other cell leaders, telling them to meet us there?"
They nodded, and walked out with a murmur of excited whispers. Lillian was about to follow, when Alexander's voice called her back.

"You should go with us, we may need your help."

"Have you lost your mind?" Derek exclaimed, seemingly beyond caring of who heard him, "She already knows enough to betray us, why make it easier?"

As one, Alexander and Lyara turned to glare at him.

"You forget," Alexander said coldly, "That Lillian saved my life yesterday. If nothing else, that puts her beyond suspicion in my eyes, as it should in yours."

On the long journey back to the camp, Lily kept apart from the others and wondered idly how and if she would have defended herself, had she been given the chance.


Chapter 10

"This is foolishness," said Shira Longhourn in a tone of severe disapproval, passing a hand through her short iron-gray hair, "I would not have expected it from you. What on earth do you hope to gain?"

"Everything, if we succeed." Lyara's voice was mild, but the stubborn set of her chin was unmistakable.

It was several days later, and they were gathered around a campfire in the middle of the clearing. All the cells in the Resistance, large and small, were represented, with Alexander and Lyara presiding over the proceedings. Lillian stood by Nora, Felix, and a few others from Alexander's cell, watching as arguments were tossed back and forth.

"Unless we strike a blow now," Alexander added, "This will go on for years -- until our morale is lost, our resources depleted, and they defeat us."

Shira snorted in disdain. "So you would prefer to go out in a blaze of glory. How typical of the young."

"What we propose isn't suicide. Lillian Beyrill has provided us with a map of Society headquarters," he held up a rough drawing, as detailed as she had been able to make it, "Their main computers are housed here, and if we could send in a small team and destroy them, the Society would be left very much weakened, perhaps fatally so."

A cell commander from the north spoke up indignantly, "And you think you can just sweep in there and mess with their equipment? The place must be a fortress."

"The security measures are strict, by we know where they are and how to destroy or bypass them," Lyara said with a confidence that Lillian was far from feeling, "Besides, we still have the guns I sent a few weeks ago."

Shira sighed. "There's no use arguing. You two have made up your minds, and nothing we could say would prevent you from going in there, guns blazing. Well, I'm going with you. If I can't stop you, I can at least make sure you don't get careless."

Alexander smiled quickly. "We will be glad to have your help."

Lyara nodded, "A team of seven or eight was what we had decided would be best." She placed an odd emphasis on the word "we", and her delicate brows drew together in a slight frown, then she seemed to recover and continued, "Alex, Derek, Shira, and myself -- who else?"

Nora jumped to her feet, "I want to go."

Alexander turned to her with a look that was firm, though not unkind, "I'm sorry. I can't let you."

"You have to!" Nora's voice shook slightly, "Don't you trust me? Do you really think I'll go on a rampage and jeopardize you? I'm not a raving lunatic, Alex. I thought that you, of all people..."

All the color drained from his face. "I'm sorry, Nora," he said in a strained voice, "I do trust you, with my life if necessary...but I can't."

She nodded weakly and sank down, dropping her head into her hands.

The rest of the group had gone silent, all of them watching the scene with alarmed or puzzled expressions. Thoughts flew through Lillian's head like lighting, illuminating in flashes but still leaving her in darkness.

He's quite mysterious about it, she remembered Nora saying. Her tone had been casual, perhaps forcedly so. Once Lillian had heard her conversation with Alexander she had thought she understood the reason, but now she began to see the comment in a new light.

Whatever was mysterious about Alexander, Nora knew it, she saw that clearly now. Just as clear was that no one else did -- perhaps not even Lyara and Derek, despite their long history together. I should have thought you, of all people...

She looked down at Nora, feeling intense sympathy for her misery, even if she couldn't guess at the cause. Her friend -- and she had become that -- sat huddled on the ground, her shoulders shaking, and try as she might, Lillian knew of no way to comfort her.

Conversation resumed, over-loud and over-animated, as they all tried to convince themselves that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Suggestions for the other members of the team were discussed and messengers sent out to the nominees. Lillian's name was never mentioned, and she wasn't surprised. After all, who knew what the sight of her old haunts could make her do? Perhaps Alexander would have put it more mildly, pointing out her importance as an informant, but the fact remained.

Still, she was not too disappointed because, in truth, she wasn't sure herself how she would react to being inside Headquarters again. Even remembering the intense claustrophobia of the place made her shudder. It was just as well that her endurance wouldn't be tested.

After several days full of preparations, the team was assembled and ready to set off.

The day of their departure was wet and cloudy without the threat of rain, the air heavy with anticipation. As the other seven saddled their horses, Alexander came to take his leave of the group assembled to see them off.

"Felix will be in command while Derek and I are away. I have left sealed orders with him as to what should be done if our absence becomes...permanent. If we don't return within a week, they should be opened and followed." He stopped, having run out of things to say, and finished simply, "Wish us luck."

As he turned to go, Lillian, who had been standing in the back, felt a brittle bit of her self-control finally snap, and rushed forward.

"Wait!"

Alexander stopped, looking at her with polite inquiry.

"I..." she realized belatedly that she had absolutely nothing to say, "I hope you know what you're doing."

A wry smile momentarily tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We'll find that out soon enough."

"And...I wanted to thank you, in case...I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. If it wasn't for the Resistance I would be lying dead in the desert somewhere, and if it wasn't for you, no one would ever have seen me as anything but an Agent and a spy." She finished in a rush, cheeks burning with acute awareness of the curious group behind them.

An indefinable expression passed over Alexander's face. He started to say something, seemed to think better of it, and finally said, choosing his words carefully, "We are far more indebted to you than you are to us, Lillian." With a final, all-encompassing nod, he walked back to where the rest of the team was waiting for him.

A few minutes, and they were out of sight.

© 2001 Copyright held by the author.

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