“Yeah, right.” Wingman snorted, but uncertainty flickered in his eyes.
“I was in the opposition. I was his contact on ’Topia.”
Chameleon did a double take. “You’re…Wisp?”
Shadow nodded. “I should have said something sooner. When we encountered you on ’Topia and you led us to the Castaway, I guessed you were in the opposition, and you were the consortium contact I’d been dealing with, but I needed to ensure you weren’t a spy for the council before I revealed who I was. I have since verified your identity.” Shadow glanced between Wingman and Inferno. “Chameleon is legit. He opposed the bombardment of ’Topia at the council level, he met with ’Topian government officials in an attempt to get them to shore up our military defenses, and the whole time, he was secretly sneaking off the planet. But then the High Council moved up the bombardment date…and, well, you know what happened.”
“I can attest to his veracity and his motives,” Psy said. “Tigre had me read everyone aboard the Castaway.”
Psy had been in his head again?
Wingman raised his hands and then let them drop. “It looks like I, uh, owe you an apology. I’m sorry. For everything. For the things I said, for how I treated you, for what I said to Kevanne.” His wings drooped. “I have no excuse for my actions.”
“You lost people you cared about,” Chameleon said. Grief embittered people. He’d never come right out and told anybody how fiercely he’d tried to save everyone because in the end, he’d failed. He’d rescued only a very small percentage, while massive numbers had died. The deaths would forever weigh on his conscience.
“I had a hard time accepting you at first, too,” Inferno confessed. “The Xenos created us—we revered them. To see the fleet hovering overhead, watch as they destroyed our cities…” His face contorted. “But they created us to be unique. And if we’re all unique, then how can we judge one individual by the actions of others?”
“Thank you,” Chameleon said and then turned to Tigre. “You said you had good news about the last ship of refugees?”
“Let’s board the ship,” Tigre said. “While Shadow installs the matter-energy transformer core, I’ll bring you up to date. We have much to discuss and some decisions to make.”
Chapter Nineteen
Kevanne tore down the access road until her lungs threatened to burst and her cramping legs gave out. She fell, hitting the ground hard, skinning her palms on the gravel beneath the pine needles. She lay there, her breathing raspy.
Had Chameleon come after her? With a frantic gaze, she swept the lane. No sight of him. Yet.
Rolling onto her hands and knees, she scrambled to her feet. She seemed to move in slow motion, her knees so shaky she feared they’d collapse again. Her palms stung. Her legs and lungs couldn’t be pushed any more.
I haven’t learned anything! She’d thought her judgment had improved after her marriage to Dayton, but it had worsened. Once again, she’d fallen for outward charm before getting to know the inner man—and had paid the price.
No, the others had paid the price. The ’Topians.
No wonder Wingman hated him.
But Inferno didn’t. Psy hadn’t seemed to. They were ’Topians.
No wonder Chameleon had deemed so many topics of conversation off-limits. How many times had he said, “I can’t tell you?” He’d been hiding his culpability. If she was a mass murderer, she wouldn’t tell anybody, either.
She peered behind her. Still no sign of him. Her heart ached like he’d died, grieving in a way she never had for Dayton. She loved Chameleon, had feared the day he would leave. He’d seemed so kind, so gentle, so loving…Wingman’s accusations didn’t jive with the man she’d known.
Everybody had believed Dayton to be a nice guy, too.
They didn’t know him as well as I did.
Intimately. The way she knew Cam. Their time together had been short, but their conversations had been long. They’d discussed everything under the sun. They’d talked, debated, laughed, cuddled, and made love. Their relationship, the man, had seemed so genuine. How could she have been so wrong about him?
Unless she wasn’t.
She stopped dead in the middle of the lane.
“I bear responsibility,” he’d said. Not, I did it or I killed those people. A big gap existed between doing the deed and accepting responsibility for the outcome.
What else had he said? She wracked her brain to remember their conversations. I righted as many of the wrongs as I could before time ran out. He had shared how Xeno mixed and matched DNA to create new species in the lab before transplanting them. She also remembered his grim expression when she’d said it sounded like playing god, and he’d replied they weren’t playing.
I am guilty of inaction, of not doing enough to stop a travesty and doing it too late. When he condemned himself with those words, and she’d told him he judged himself too harshly. I see goodness and kindness in you. If you tried, then you did your best, and that’s all you can do. Hadn’t she said that?
And now, she hadn’t even asked for an explanation. After professing her love, she’d accepted an opponent’s word at face value. Cam’s eyes had been tormented with guilt, and she’d taken that as culpability…but didn’t he blame himself for everything—just as she did? She’d walked into her marriage with Dayton with her eyes wide shut, ignoring the red flags, his irrational jealousy, the flashes of unprovoked anger, the way he subtly severed her friendships.
In Cam, she’d seen only kindness, concern. He’d supported, never undermined her.
Kevanne pressed a knuckle to her mouth. He didn’t do it. I ran without even listening to him.
This was like when he revealed himself, and she’d freaked and ordered him out of the house. He’d gone without resistance because she’d told him to. Because he was a decent, loving man who would never do anything to hurt her or anybody else. She didn’t know why or how he thought he was responsible for millions of deaths, but she owed him a chance to explain.
Could he ever forgive her?
She spun around and sprinted for the spacecraft. Hurry. Hurry. Her legs threatened to rebel, but she forced herself to run. She had to repair the situation as soon as possible. Even if he couldn’t forgive her, she couldn’t allow Cam to believe she hated him.
Her side and calves were in stitches when she staggered into the clearing.
Empty. Vacant.
The spacecraft had disappeared.
It couldn’t be gone. It couldn’t! Could she have taken a wrong turn? She raced back down the forest service road until she came to the crooked tree. On the scooter, he’d veered off there. She retraced her steps to the clearing. Empty. Blackened field grass offered the sole evidence the craft had been there at all.
The ship can’t be gone! It can’t! She pivoted, scanning. “Cam! Cam! It’s me! Kevanne!”
She thought she’d heard a buzz, but when she scanned the sky for the drone, she saw only blank blue expanse.
They’d left. Cam was gone. He’d left without saying goodbye.
Can I blame him after the way I reacted?
A sob caught in her throat as she stared at the place where the Castaway had been. He’ll never know how I feel.