Page 28 of Star-Born Anomaly
More memories surfaced, a ship filled with sick people. A stranger with kind, concerned eyes.
“I was a child when I arrived in Sector Ten.”
Her expression slackened; her lips parted. Then her brow furrowed.
“Were your parents pilgrims?” Her words were harder now, biting at him like her emotions. “Did they journey with you?”
Other fragmented memories surfaced, ones steeped in pain and fear and confusion. Of being squished on a transport, others sick like him. Of an unfamiliar woman holding his hand. So much fear, but the sickness weakened him.
The feelings mimicked what he had felt from Wynn since arriving here, tugging at a point in his chest he did not know could move.
“They did not.” And sadness, so similar in flavor to hers. He remembered that the most.
“Bastards.” The words whispered from her lips, much quieter than the emotions cascading toward him. Why would she be so angry? Not at him, but on his behalf?
“I’m sorry.” Her emotions slumped along with her gaze. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
The emotions shifted in his chest, blooming into something softer, parallel to her own. “What are these words you say?”
“I’m sorry?”
He nodded.
She stared down at her hands for a moment, then continued on with her work while she spoke. “It’s an apology. I’m expressing that I feel regret about what happened to you. Showing empathy, because it must have been a horrible experience.”
Her words struck him speechless. He tried to understand this empathy she spoke of, but his mind grabbed onto logic, on reason, and he could not voice either his confusion or his acceptance of her words.
They remained silent while she worked, her hands scooping dirt, filling pots, and adding seeds.
Lightning flashed in an arc, followed by a rumble of thunder loud enough to mute the voices she played from beside her. It was a game, one he had learned of a long time ago but hadn’t followed since his initial voyage to Sector Ten. A gust of wind stronger than the last splashed rain against the pane behind her.
She twitched at the sound, then paused in her work. Her fingertips pressed against the edge of the pot, and her eyes jumped to his.
“I’m Wynn.”
He nodded his agreement. “Yes. Doctor Wynn Lambdin.”
She sipped a quick breath. “How do you know that?”
“They told me your name before I came to collect you.”
Her entire body went rigid, and the emotions that had calmed turned sharp once more. “Who? Who told you that?”
His memories returned to when he had embarked on his journey to this planet. He had been told many things, some he was not supposed to divulge. Other instructions had not shared that decree.
The answer to her question lay in a mix of those instructions, but he had also promised not to lie. “They are The Four.”
Her lips parted. “Who are they?”
“They lead us.”
“Why would they tell you my name? How do they know me?”
“I was told to collect you.”
An emotion shot out at him, one very similar to when she shouted at him to take off his glasses. Her mouth parted, then her lips formed a word. But she stopped herself from speaking, only making a slight sound, cutting her question off before she asked it.
He tilted his head, trying to decipher the action. When she had asked so many questions prior, why would she stop herself now?
