“Is there anything left to check on?” Tukui choked on the words.
Osopa swallowed. One of the transmitted vids had been from Washington, D.C. Securing that city, along with major military targets, had been the priority for the invasion force. The fighters had been there to witness the black plume of destruction climbing into the sky seconds after detonation.
The seat of Earth’s government was gone. Since Tina’s family had lived on its outskirts, they were certain to be dead.
“Maybe the reports will offer us something to hope for.” He could tell Tukui didn’t believe the lie. He wondered why he’d bothered to tell it. He squeezed his shoulder and headed back to the security station.
How would his Matara deal with such a tragedy? How much blame and anger would Osopa have to bear for playing his part in it?
It was only four hours later when their shift ended and they left the bridge, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. Though he was exhausted in the wake of the tragedy, Osopa would have gladly remained on duty rather than face what came next.
He stopped Tukui and dragged him into one of the many computer alcoves that lined the corridor. “How do we break the news to her?”
Tukui had commed Yorso to tell him what had happened soon after the shocked bridge crew had begun to gather their wits. Yorso had begged him not to make him deliver such a harrowing report on his own. “She’ll need all of us to help her through this. Let it wait until we’re together.”
With noticeable relief, Tukui had agreed that was the wisest course. Now that the moment was upon them when they’d have to break Tina’s heart, he was grim again.
Grim, but he had an answer. He’d apparently given it a great deal of thought in the intervening hours. “We’ll offer Tina what little hope we can. Maybe her family wasn’t home or in the city. There’s always that chance.”
“Should we allow her to get her hopes up? Isn’t that crueler than what’s probably the truth?”
“Do we have a choice? After all the upheaval in her life, we don’t dare take hope from her.” Tukui raked fingers through his hair. “I’m not saying we sugarcoat the situation. We tell her the basic facts we know, then we offer whatever glimmer of a chance we can.”
Osopa considered. He struggled when it came to dealing appropriately with tragedy, so he had no choice but to rely on Tukui’s instincts. However, there was one facet that he had a strong opinion on. “We can’t tell her what we saw. Entire cities laid waste in an instant, nothing left but craters—”
“No. She doesn’t need the details.”
With that settled, Osopa stepped out of the alcove. When his clanmate remained, standing as if he’d never move again, he paused.
“Tukui?”
“There’s something you have to know. I’ve been wrestling with it, but after what just happened—there’s no doubt in my mind now.”
Osopa returned to him. “What is it, my Dramok?”
“I’m putting in for a transfer. I’m leaving the spyship division of the fleet.”
“You mean for a destroyer?” He was surprised by the sudden change in the conversation’s direction, but it wasn’t the first time Tukui had switched gears on him on the spur of the moment. Osopa considered this new revelation. “On the heels of the glowing commendation you received, it’s a smart career move. Especially with so many crews lost in battle.”
“Not a destroyer. A noncombat posting. Maybe a supply transport, or a courier. Hell, if all I can get is a salvage tanker, I’ll take it.”
Another surprise. Osopa digested the shocking decision, as well as his Dramok’s haunted expression. “Listen, what occurred on Earth was horrific, but you shouldn’t make such a decision when you’re upset.”
“As I said, I’ve been considering this for the last few days. I’ve been over it and over it, and this is what has to happen.”
He had been quiet lately, Osopa realized. The Nobek had chalked up the unusual pensiveness to the upcoming invasion and worrying over Tina’s reaction to the outcome. He’d had no inkling Tukui was mulling a drastic career change, a switch that defied logic.
A salvage vessel? That was for the newest recruits to the fleet, or men on the verge of retirement. It made no sense.
“Why? This mission has put us in fantastic standing with the fleet. They’re talking promotions for everyone.”
“Is that what’s important, my Nobek? A flashy occupation? Or the woman we’d have to leave on Kalquor? A woman who just lost her family? Our Matara can’t be abandoned again. Not by us.”
Osopa stared at him as a terrible weight settled in his gut. His heart thumped hard, as if it would rip out of his chest.
Why hadn’t this occurred to him before?
Tukui suddenly looked years older. “You get it. I’m not asking this of you without having put a lot of thought into it. Of us all, you’d be making the biggest sacrifice. You’re damned good at what you do, and you deserve your spot on a destroyer’s bridge as a weapons commander. To give that up—it’ll be like losing a piece of yourself.”
“You wish me to transfer with you.” The words came slowly, painfully, as if each was covered in barbs and he was ripping them out of his throat.
“I do. I can’t order you to do so, however. I’d never do that to you. It has to be your decision.”
It was an impossible choice. Osopa had been dedicated to forging a career in the fleet long before he’d joined it. Who was he without it? He’d never imagined a different life for himself.
He’d also committed himself to Tina, to doing whatever it took to protect her. What she needed most of all to be secure was his presence, close by so she wouldn’t feel pushed aside again.
Tukui gripped his shoulder. “You have to consider a second important factor as well.”
“Which is?” Osopa didn’t mean to growl, but the words came out that way.
If Tukui took offense, he refused to show it. “Would you resent having to work a lesser position to the point where it would hurt your relationship with Tina? As desperately as she requires her Nobek near, it might do more damage if you’re bitter. This is another reason why though I’m your Dramok, I won’t order you to do what I feel is best for our clan. But Osopa, she does need you with her. Think of what it’ll do to her if you don’t stay.”
Osopa understood. He had to live up to his vow that he’d keep her safe, keep her happy. However, the future he’d counted on was crumbling before his eyes. He couldn’t speak.
Tukui managed a chuckle that sounded closer to a sob. “Yeah, that’s probably how I looked when I realized my entire world had just torn apart—” he stopped. No doubt he realized how it sounded when they’d just witnessed that literal situation on Earth. He cleared his throat. “Anyhow. You have a lot to consider. I’ll hold off breaking the news of my upcoming re-assignment until you decide. First things first. We have to face our Matara and tell her what’s happened.”
Right. Osopa had to be strong for her now, put his own miseries aside. Her loss was greater than his. He squared his shoulders and followed Tukui down the corridor.
He tried to put his reeling mind on an even keel as they neared their quarters. He chanted in his head, think of Tina, think of Tina, think of Tina. The Nobek fought for his famed control before he had to face her, to pretend his dreams hadn’t shattered around him like broken glass.