They were right about me, then, she thought dully.
Subject has no heart.
That’s what they told her at MacArthur.
She was only a weapon, a vessel for fire and pain. She had no heart. There was a cold, dead space where it was supposed to be. She was not human. She was marked. She was a monster.
Subject is unable to love. Unable to feel. Subject is perfect for our needs.
She had believed they were wrong. She had believed her feelings for him were real, that what she felt for Wes was true . . .
She had believed she could save him as he had saved her. When he had kissed her before the traders came, when he had saved her from the white priests.
But she was wrong.
Subject unable to love. She did not love him and so she could not save him.
Brendon handed her his handkerchief, and Roark put a hand on her shoulder. Both of them were crying quietly.
Nat felt numb.
She thought she had been so clever. She had gambled and lost.
And now Wes was dead.
A few minutes later Shakes walked out of the bridge and knelt by his friend. “I kept telling him he’d get himself killed one day.”
“Shakes—”
He brushed off her hand, too upset to even speak. Don’t worry, I’ve never lost him yet, he had told Nat in the Trash Pile. Her fault . . . this was all her fault . . . she was such a fool to think . . . to think that she was different . . . and to hope that she could . . .
They brought Wes down to the captain’s quarters and laid him out on his bed. His face was gray and the bullet she had put in his chest left a neat, round hole.
Shakes staggered out of the room, as if he had no more strength even to walk. The smallmen followed after him.
Liannan entered.
“I killed him,” Nat whispered. “This is my fault.”
“Better that you had, or the slavers would have killed him and his death would have been worse than a thousand agonies. Plus, if it’s any consolation, you saved the rest of us. Can you do this?” she asked. “Get him ready for burial?”
Nat nodded and wiped her eyes. Together, the two of them wound his body in a sheet, wrapping him and blessing his forehead with oil. She put a hand on his cold cheek. He was so handsome and so brave.
“We will keep him here for a little while, let everyone have a chance to say good-bye, before we give him back to the ocean,” the sylph said.
Nat nodded. She walked back out to the bridge. There was no more sign of either the Titan or the Van Gogh.
The lifeboats were bobbing in the sea, on their way to the port at New Crete.
She found Farouk at the helm, looking lost and confused, his eyes red-rimmed from crying.
“Where’s Shakes?” she asked.
“Dunno,” the young soldier sniffed. “He looked like he wanted to murder somebody.”
From below, they could hear Shakes pummeling the walls of the cabin. Liannan joined them on the bridge. “I think we need to leave him alone for now. He doesn’t blame you, Nat, but he’s angry. He’s angry that he couldn’t save his friend.”
Brendon and Roark huddled with them as well. “None of us blame you; you did a brave thing,” Roark said.
Her heart was broken, but Nat held herself together and fought the tears back. Getting away was only one part of the plan.
“What do we do now?” Farouk asked.
“The same thing we did when we set out from New Vegas,” she told him. “We need to get to the Blue. The RSA is heading there. We need to stop them from entering the doorway. Liannan, you know the way?”
The sylph nodded. “Yes. Brendon, help me—we need to plot a course.”
47
IT WAS DARK WHEN NAT ENTERED THE crew cabin. Shakes was sitting on a hammock, bent over, his head in his hands, while Liannan rested her head on his shoulder, murmuring softly. The sylph looked up when Nat entered. “Nat is here,” she said softly.
“I can go,” Nat said.
“No, it’s all right, she can stay,” Shakes said, motioning for her to take a seat.
Nat could barely stand to meet his eye. “Shakes,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said finally, looking up from his hands and attempting a smile. “Liannan told me what you hoped would happen. You did right. Besides, I hope I would have done the same.”
“I know,” Nat said. “You’re a good friend.”
“So are you.” He nodded.
They sat together in silence for a while, then Shakes told her about their time on the Van Gogh. They had been put in cages as well, but the Ear’s men hadn’t starved them, since they were going to be sold to the circus, which fetched a good price. Their cages were located down in the hold, so at least they had been warm.
On their second night aboard the Van Gogh, they saw Farouk. He wasn’t in a cage. The slavers could barely navigate or maintain their own ship. When they’d found out Farouk could do both, they pulled him from his cage and put him to work. When the rebellion started, it had been Farouk who let them out of their cages.
“Turned out the whole thing was Zedric’s idea. He’d escaped from the hold when Farouk caught him. He tried to persuade Zedric to stay, but Zedric refused. He forced Farouk to help him, since he didn’t know how to navigate. He was going to try and make it to the port at New Crete. But they got picked up by the slavers, and when Zedric resisted, they shot him on the spot.” Shakes raked his fingers through his hair. “I told Wes those Slaine boys were trouble, but he always did have a soft spot for Santonio survivors.”
“He told me what happened there,” Nat said.
“Did he?” Shakes nodded. “Bet he didn’t tell you he tried to save them, did he—tried to get the Texans to sign the treaty, that’s why he got captured and tortured, but it was too late. They gave him a medal for the ‘victory,’ but he left the service anyway.”
Liannan returned and sat next to Shakes and put his hand in hers. “You should rest,” she said.
Nat left them alone and went to the captain’s quarters to check on Wes, covered in the shroud. Roark was sitting with him, keeping the body company. Tomorrow they would give Wes to the sea. She sat with them for a while, until Brendon urged her to lie down—he would sit with the body. She went back to the crew cabin and when she finally slept her dreams were full of fire.
The next morning, she woke to the smallmen talking excitedly. They were standing by her bunk.
“Get up!” Roark said happily.
“Come see!” Brendon said, tugging on her sleeve.
Nat followed them to Wes’s cabin, where Liannan and Shakes were hovering by the doorway. The two of them were smiling so intently, it was as if they were almost shining with happiness. Nat felt the first stirrings of hope in her heart.
“Go. He wants you,” Liannan said.
As in a dream, Nat walked into the room.
She found Wes sitting up in his bed. His face was no longer gray, but pink with life. His chest was bare, and the wound right over his heart was merely a scab.
“Hey, you.” He smiled, putting his shirt back on and buttoning it up. “I thought I was a goner when I saw you pull that trigger. I’m lucky you’ve got such terrible aim, huh?”