Lily turned and looked at her. Unlike the doctor, the technician didn't remind her of anyone. She wore the same uniform that everyone else did and a popular hairstyle, but that was it. Lily turned her attention to the diagnostic machine on the cart.

"Everything looks good," the technician said. She smiled at Lily. "Better than good, to be honest with you. Optimal."

Lily smiled back at her. "Thank you."

The woman reached up and unplugged the thin cable that ran from the new port in the side of Lily's head and coiled it back onto her cart. "You're going to need to keep your hair short there. I recommend having it permanently depilated, but it's up to you."

Lily nodded. "Okay, I'll look into it."

The technician gave her another smile and a nod and then she pushed her cart back down the hallway to wherever she was needed next. Lily turned back to the doctor and saw him working on an infopad.

"I've notified the person responsible for you, Cadet. They should be here shortly. You may change and go as soon as they arrive," he said. He turned to glance at her arm and grimaced. "Oh, and we'll get those lines out of your arm too. Sorry about that."

Lily smirked. "Do you have a brother? You remind me of another cadet I've been training with."

He spared her a glance and shook his head. "No. No brothers."

Lily nodded and leaned back while a nurse came over and pulled the lines from her arm. A healing agent was applied and in moments the holes and slight bruising around them was gone. She smiled and reached up to touch the port in her head. It felt weird. The same temperature as her head, but hard and funny. She could tap it and feel the pressure, but she didn't feel where she tapped her fingers.

"Lil!"

Lily cranked her head to the side and saw Palla walking as fast as she could down the hall. She clutched a bundle under one arm that Lily hoped was her clothes. Lily raised a hand to wave and then was almost knocked off the small bed when Palla threw herself on her.

"I thought you said I was going to be okay?" Lily gasped.

Palla pulled herself off and grinned. "I did, but that doesn't mean I'm not glad to see you. Besides, things happen sometimes, even with the best doctors and facilities."

Lily's head tilted for a moment but she let the odd remark slide. Maybe it made sense; she was a high-profile student. The highest, she supposed. President Ondalla would want to make sure she had the best treatment possible. "Those my clothes?"

"Oh! Yes, here you go. Get changed and I'll get you back to our room. You've got the rest of the week off to recover."

Lily frowned. "I don't need it."

"What? Of course you do. You can't walk through the station dressed in a hospital tunic!"

Lily laughed. "I meant the week off. I'm ready to go back now."

Palla frowned. "At least a couple of days."

Lily nodded. "All right, two days."

Palla grinned and turned to press a button. Holographic walls shimmered around them, granting her a minimal level of privacy to change. "Go ahead. Hospitals always give me the creeps."

"Um, I can dress myself," Lily said.

Palla started. "Oh! Right! Sorry. Um, let me know when you're ready."

Lily shook her head as Palla stepped through the illusory wall and glanced at the clothes left on the foot of her bed. She sat up slowly, testing herself, and grinned when she found she felt perfectly normal. She nodded and started tugging the flimsy open-sided tunic off. She ached to get her own comfortable uniform back on and get back to her normal routine.

Lily yawned in spite of her recent medically induced nap. She chuckled and had to admit that a day or two off might be nice after all. Except that would slow her down from getting some real biomech training. She frowned. There was nothing stopping her now except the next generation of simulator training. She had to finish that as fast as she could.

Lily sighed. Palla was going to be upset with her when she cut her two-day recovery to one.

Chapter 34.

Krys looked over from the couch as the door opened and Shelby walked in. He could tell from the wrinkles around her eyes and the tension in her cheeks that something was bothering her. He set his infopad down and stood up at the same time she released the catch on her utility belt and placed it on the table.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She lifted her eyes to his and flared her nostrils as she let out a sigh. "These night cycles are hard for me to deal with," she said.

Krys studied her a moment as she tried to smile. "I don't believe you."

"You don't?"

"Well, I do," he backtracked. "I mean I think there's more to it."

She sighed again and walked over to him. He pulled her into a hug and felt her melt into his grasp. "How can you be so perceptive?"

Krys smiled into her hair and pressed his lips against her head to kiss her. "You make it easy."

She pulled her head back to look at him. A genuine smile lifted her lips. "I do? How's that?"

Krys shrugged. "Like I need an excuse to look at you?"

She laughed and then kissed him on the lips. Krys felt her pressing harder against him and realized this wasn't something casual and affectionate. He let her push him back until his legs hit the couch and then felt her give him a shove that showed she was stronger than she looked. Krys landed with a grunt and looked up in time to grunt again as she straddled his lap and continued where she'd left off.

Their relationship had grown since the incident with the blue dress. Over the year that had passed, Krys had finally worked up the nerve to tell her he liked her. That was all it took for Shelby. In no time, they spent every spare minute together, either at his place or hers. Sometimes she even made up excuses to visit him during the day. Inspections, she called them.

Through it all, and in spite of how much he enjoyed being with her, Krys was still holding back. He had promises he'd made and he went out of his way to keep them. His irregular drops at the irrigation pump continued and when he could, he left news for them. He had to scribble down what he could on clothing that he left for them using charcoal. They could wash it out; that way the clothing wasn't ruined.

"What's gotten into you?" Krys mumbled during a brief respite when her lips weren't crushing his.

"Shut up," she groaned. "I've been waiting too long for this! We can talk later."

Krys shook his head and managed to push her back. "This isn't like you," he insisted.

Shelby stared at him, her eyes intense and angry for a moment. Then she closed them and let out a breath. When she opened them again, they sparkled with moisture. "I'm worried. No, not worried. Scared."

"Scared? About what?"

"You," she said.

Krys recoiled. "What? But you were just-"

"I want you, Krys," she said. "And I wanted to forget everything and finally feel like I had you. I wanted to make you mine and let the world around us do whatever it wanted to for as long as it took."

Krys's lips moved a few times before he was able to make words come out of them. "I'm really confused."

She sighed. "Do you know why I hate the night cycles here?"

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"

She smirked. "No. I'm afraid of what's in the dark."

Krys was pretty sure she wasn't talking about stubbing her toe on a rock or a chair or something so he asked, "Huh?"

Shelby stared at him, her eyes moving all over his face and then connecting with his again. He felt like he was being accused of something. Did she know about his friends in the woods? Had he screwed up somewhere and she found out?

"There's been more attacks," she said without breaking their gaze. "More people have died."

Krys stiffened. "People here?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet. But we have a convoy headed to the starport with our production from the last light cycle on it."

"Okay, um, so that's got you worried? What about me? You said you were scared for me? Are you afraid I'll be attacked when I go out into the fields to do maintenance or repairs?"

She shook her head and looked away from him. "I know, Krys."

Krys felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. He stared at her as she looked back at him. A tear spilled and ran down her cheek and fell on the blue cloth covering her thigh. His breath caught in his throat as he realized she knew. She knew, and that meant he was in trouble. Real, serious, firing-squad level trouble.

"They're my friends," Krys said. "I have to help them!"

Tears fell from her right eye to join the left. "How could you do this to me?" she whispered.

"To you?" He blurted out. "I didn't do anything to you! I helped my friends. They're not hurting anyone. They aren't raiding convoys or killing people. They're trying to survive! They can't turn themselves in-they'll be killed! What else are they supposed to do?"

Krys saw the movement but didn't react in time to block the slap that left his head ringing. When he blinked the colors out of his eyes, he saw her standing several feet away from him. He blinked again, wondering how she'd gotten off his lap so fast. He reached up to touch the hot side of his face and then looked at her. "You hit me!"

"You deserve it!" she shouted. "Damn it, Krys, I-I-why did you have to do this?"

"I didn't have any other choice."

"Yes you did!" she spat. "You had me. I gave you me, or at least I tried to. Is that it? Is there somebody out there? Somebody living like a savage who you prefer?"

"Shelby, stop," Krys pleaded. "There's not anybody else! It's just-they're my friends! Why can't you understand that? I can't let them die."

"Friends," she snarled. "Friends are acquaintances. People you have something in common with for a little while. Then you move on when circumstances change. Even social contracts don't require treason!"

"Treason?" Krys gulped. He'd read the postings and heard the news alerts. Anyone aiding a rebellious activity, either directly or through failing to act, was guilty of it. "So what, you're going to shoot me because I'm not callous enough to throw my friends away like a piece of fruit that's gone bad?"

Shelby stared at him, her chin quivering and her hands trembling. She hugged them across her chest, the muscles beneath her skin cording with the effort she took to control herself. "I'm in line to be promoted to captain soon," she said. "That would mean a transfer to the starport. If we stopped acting like savages and drew up a social contract, you could have come with me. Except now I can't let you anywhere near the starport. How do I know you're not feeding the terrorists information?"

"What? I'm not a terrorist!" Krys said as he lurched to his feet. A small voice nagged in the back of his head that he'd been prepared to become one. He'd trained with Mig, learning how to fight and planning and preparing for it. He'd even sacrificed himself for his friends and hoped he could find a way to get back to them with information.

Instead, he'd turned soft. He'd found the lure of steady food, a soft bed, and running water too much to pass up. Having the attention and affection of the highest ranking officer in the colony was a nice perk, too. Krys shook his head and sighed. "I'm not a terrorist," he said again.

"You sound disappointed."

He shrugged. "Does it matter anymore?"

"I guess that's up to you."

Krys looked up at her, surprised by her tone. She sounded like she was pleading, not accusing. "We're so different," he mumbled.

She snorted and looked away. Krys followed her eyes to her belt on the table. Being an officer, she only had a couple of attachments for it, one of them being her sidearm. He gasped. Was this it? Was she going to shoot him?

"Shelby," he stammered, drawing her attention back to him. "It doesn't make sense, but I guess I'm more old-fashioned than you are. I believe in friendships and in relationships, not social contracts. What's holding me back from you? I'm afraid that you won't feel the same way I do."

She stared at him with her lips parted. She clamped them shut and turned away, towards the table. She turned back and stared at him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Krys blinked. "Huh?"

"I've been trained to believe in things. Educated and raised to know what's right and what's important!"

"Um, okay." Krys glanced around and was careful not to look past her towards the entrance with the kitchen and small table. Could he get there first? And if he did, then what? Could he shoot her if he had to? His stomach flipped, answering for him. "I'm not a traitor. I thought I could be when I came here, but you treated me so good and everything worked out for me. So I stayed. Yes, I give my friends clothing and food when I can, but that doesn't mean I'm trying to change things. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

She stiffened and stared at him. "I have to ask you this, and I need a complete and honest answer from you."

Krys nodded. He had nothing left to lose and the fact that she hadn't shot him yet was a good sign.

"Are you Krys Evans?"

Krys laughed at the simple question. "Yes, I am."

She nodded. "Good. What about your friends? You said you planned to be a traitor when you came here. Was the plan to perform terrorism?"

"The plan? There was no plan," he said. "I gave myself up when I realized I couldn't get away. I hoped to distract your soldiers so my friends could escape. It worked. Then I figured I'd do what I could to help them from inside for as long as I could when you didn't have me killed."

She frowned. "Help them how?"

"Originally? Yes, we wanted our old lives back. But I've seen enough-I know that's not possible. Now I just want to keep everybody safe."

She nodded.

"Can I ask you a question?" Krys gambled.

She stared at him and nodded.

"Maybe our society considers me an adult but the one I grew up in probably wouldn't. I know I'm not sure I know what I'm doing when it comes to you, but I have to know something. You got very upset with me. Very. You've been talking on and off about social contracts for a while. Does that mean that you, um-do you love me?"