Page 120 of Star-Born Anomaly
Because he had changed.
They accused him of switching allegiance.
He had countered that he had no allegiance, only life. No oaths had been sworn, though he had followed commands. He had met expectations, and now he… could not.
Because Wynn’s safety, happiness, and wellbeing meant more to him than anything—above everything.
And that disturbed The Four greatly.
He presented a problem. They worried that each of the Calypsons they had sent out into the world would return as changed as him.
It was a valid worry. Once exposed to the world of humans, it was impossible not to view Sector Ten through new eyes.
He did not voice his thoughts as he guided Wynn toward where more of the anomalies existed, through the corridors where Calypson construction merged with the old CORE science vessel. Another Calypson trailed them, and Wynn kept looking over her shoulder at him, then back at Iax.
“This is Atlas,” he said, realizing he should have explained earlier, but the occurrences in the botanical biodome had occupied his mind. “He is escorting us to the anomalies.”
The Calypson was one of the main individuals who taught Iax how to defend himself, along with Heath Wiseman. The pair referenced their training from the days they worked for the CORE military and improved upon it in the way of Calypsons.
Wynn sent Iax a look from the corner of her eye. “Like a babysitter or something?” The stormy expression she had been wearing since the biodome had not relaxed, and echoed the volatile emotions that crashed over him in waves.
He tipped his head, decoding what she meant, then nodded. “Yes. Like that.”
Her eyes narrowed, but after shooting Atlas another glance, she faced forward and said nothing more.
Atlas sent him a thought, a question, with the same taste of confusion others had sent him, but Iax ignored it, refusing to communicate nonverbally in Wynn’s presence.
“This way,” Iax said, tipping his head to the right and lifting his hand to the small of her back to guide her. Wynn glanced at him and leaned into the touch. A shot of pleasure rushed through his body.
After spending so much time together, their physical separation was not something he enjoyed. To touch her settled a restlessness inside him. He tugged her closer, wanting to shield her from what she was about to see and experience.
Through the open plane of communication that existed in Sector Ten, Atlas perceived the action and sent an account to The Four in the next moment. Iax would not have expected anything less, but a sense of betrayal swept through him. The Four had given Atlas orders: to watch them, guide them, and report. If Iax had been given the same task before being sent to Earth, he would have followed it without question as well. But he also knew Atlas on a more personal level, and could not stop the swell of bitter emotion.
Their eyes met, and Atlas tipped his head in confusion.
Iax would not explain himself when the infraction seemed so obvious.
“Why do I get the feeling he’s telling on us?” Wynn asked, her eyebrows lifted in question as he guided her onto a lift.
“Because he is.”
Her emotions swirled around them as she cast Atlas another narrowed-eye glance. “Another one to put on my shit list, then.”
The door to the lift closed behind Atlas, and it descended.
Iax made a mental note to ask her what “shit list” meant later.
When the door reopened, Atlas stepped out first, leading the way to the cargo hold. They followed, Iax’s hand on Wynn’s spine. This section of the ship was quieter, very few Calypsons venturing deep anymore. It also had the fewest Calypson upgrades, the bulkheads mostly unblemished.
It used to have more, the dark scars remaining where the organic technology had existed, but none twisted and turned like the above decks.
A set of double doors lay ahead, and Iax reached with his mind. They opened with a softwhooshto reveal a dimly lit interior.
Wynn’s footsteps hesitated as she neared, and she stretched her neck forward to peer inside the voluminous space before setting foot inside.
He brightened the luminosity of the overhead lights, and she straightened, shooting him a questioning glance. He noddedonce, claiming responsibility for the change in ambiance, and her eyes crinkled in thanks.
We do not need to touch minds to speak without words.
