The Triad Read online

  Mo shot to her feet. “Can you be supportive, for once in your life? Can you? Do you know how to do that?” She glared at Ann, then thunked back down on the sofa and buried her head in her hands.

  Ann didn’t move. “Is it about Jayne?”

  Now who wouldn’t be getting the Genius of the Year award? “Yeah. And I was so angry at Les, I said some horrible things.” Things she wished she could take back. “I wasn’t thinking straight, okay? If I was, I’d still be down on the planet.”

  “Wait! You were angry with her?”

  The surprise in Ann’s voice made Mo look up. “Yeah. Is that so hard to believe, that I can get angry with her?”

  “No. But...” Ann hesitated. “Well, I thought if the two of you were going to fall out over Jayne, it would be because she was upset with you, not the other way around.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why?”

  Mo threw up her hands. “Exactly what I said! Why would she be upset with me?”

  Ann gaped. “You don’t know?”

  Mo wanted to throttle her. “Stop playing flaming games! I’m not in the mood.”

  “I’m not playing games! What’s the matter with you? If Lesley and Jayne got together, you’d lose it. So don’t pretend you don’t know why she’s upset.”

  She had no idea what Ann was talking about. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You and Jayne.” Ann let out an exasperated sigh when Mo shrugged, still drawing a blank. “Your relationship!”

  “What relationship?”

  “Come on, Mo. The two of you are close.” Ann drew her hands together. “I assumed you were...involved.”

  Mo couldn’t believe her ears. “We’re not! Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Hanging out with the two of you when you’re both up here. The way you talk about her. It’s obvious you care about her.”

  “Of course I care about her. She’s my Chosen. She’s my responsibility.”

  Ann shook her head. “No. I mean care.”

  No. No way. “You’re seeing something that’s not there.”

  Ann barked a laugh. “You really are clueless. You should see yourself with her. You don’t hang off each other, exactly, but she’s usually on your arm. You worry about her, you’re protective of her, you’re happy when you’re with her. I’ve certainly noticed it, and I’m not the only one. Some of the other pilots—”

  “What?” Mo blurted. “What are they saying?”

  “Nothing bad. Just that the two of you seem to be getting along well. Really, really well.”

  No. No, no, no. “I’m just being supportive. She’s not familiar with 72. She’s shy, she doesn’t feel comfortable with people she doesn’t know. And she’s dealing with that idiot Stewart right now.”

  Ann rolled her eyes. “Okay, why don’t you go out there right now and be supportive to someone else’s Chosen in the same way you are to Jayne, and see how that works out for you.”

  Mo clenched her hands and stood, but then sank back down. She was just supporting Jayne...wasn’t she? She enjoyed Jayne’s company, and yeah, she did worry about her. So many people had let Jayne down. Mo wanted to reassure her that she was no longer alone, that Mo would be there for her...that she wanted to be there for her. But that didn’t mean... No, she was just being a good friend. They were friends, right? And since they would—did—share each other’s lives, of course they’d grow close and develop a certain...intimacy with each other, but...no.

  Ann shifted her weight. “Okay, let’s say I got it wrong. If I did, so could Lesley. Something is making me and everyone else think you and Jayne are closer than friends. Whatever we’re seeing, she’s probably seeing.”

  Fear snaked through Mo. “You think she thinks Jayne and I are together?”

  “Mo, the cook in the canteen probably thinks you’re together,” Ann said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “Of course she’s noticed there’s something between you.”

  “There’s nothing to notice!” But what if Ann was right, and Les had put two and two together and got five? “Argamon!” She covered her face with her hands and flopped against the back of the sofa.

  “What did Lesley say? What happened?”

  Mo parted her hands enough to peer at Ann. “She said she wanted to talk about Jayne.”

  “And?”

  And she didn’t know—she’d assumed Les wanted a relationship with Jayne and so hadn’t given her a chance to say much of anything. But...since she is our Chosen, it’s possible that one of us might develop feelings for her. It doesn’t have to be me. It could be you. Had Les been trying to find out if she had feelings for Jayne? If Les believed that she did... “I’ve screwed up, Ann. I’ve screwed up real badly.” So badly that she wouldn’t blame Les for hating her. She desperately wanted to see Les, throw herself at her feet and beg for forgiveness, but she was stuck up here for five days. She was a complete idiot. “I might have totally misinterpreted everything.” Les was doing the same, except she hadn’t told Mo that she wished they weren’t Chosens. Idiot! “I didn’t give her a chance to tell me what she was concerned about. I thought she wanted permission to have a relationship with Jayne, but that’s not what she wanted. Yeah, I know, I’m stupid.”

  “You know, I’ve never understood your attitude toward Lesley.” Ann folded her arms. “She’s never so much as looked at anyone else, as far as I can tell. There would have been no shortage of eager takers if she had, but for some strange reason, she’s only ever wanted you.”

  Mo opened her mouth to tell Ann that she already felt guilty enough, thank you very much, but changed her mind. She deserved whatever Ann flung at her.

  “Did she beep you on the shuttle, try to reach you?” Ann asked.

  “No. I’ve really blown it this time.” She fought another round of tears.

  Ann cleared her throat and turned toward the small kitchen. “Do you want tziva?”

  Not really, but her blubbering was making Ann uncomfortable. “Sure.”

  While Ann busied herself with the tziva, Mo sat slumped on the sofa, worrying about Les. How was she? What was she thinking? Would she forgive Mo’s horrible parting words? Did she think her two Chosens were carrying on behind her back? Why did they have to end up in this stupid triad, anyway?

  “Here.” Ann handed her a mug.

  “Thank you,” Mo murmured. “Would you mind checking to see if there are any painkillers in the bathroom? I need something for my head.”

  “Why don’t you go to the infirmary? They’ll take care of it a lot quicker than painkillers will.”

  But that would mean venturing into the corridors, looking like a wreck. By not cracking jokes about Mo’s appearance, Ann was proving she could be diplomatic. “I don’t want to leave my quarters,” Mo mumbled. Plus, her throbbing head served her right. Idiot!

  Ann shrugged and disappeared into the bathroom. “Good news,” she said, returning with a bottle. After handing it to Mo, she picked up Mo’s crumpled cloak and threw it over the sofa’s arm. Mo tipped a couple of pills into her hand and washed them down with tziva. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

  “You’re Chosens, so you’ll have to work this out,” Ann said.

  That was probably the only reason Les would talk to her. If Les hadn’t wished they weren’t Chosens before, she probably did now.

  “I don’t think I’m wrong about you and Jayne.”

  Mo opened her eyes a crack. Ann sat in the chair across from her, a mug of tziva in her hand.

  “Maybe you don’t see it, but—”

  “Right now, I’m worried about me and Les.” She’d worry about Jayne later...her feelings for Jayne...whether she had feelings for Jayne.

  They sipped their tziva in silence. Mo had to admit she was grateful for Ann’s presence. If she was alone, she’d probably be prostrate on the bed and sobbing into the pillow, believing Les wanted a relationship with Jayne. Maybe Les did. Maybe Ann was wrong and Mo hadn’t misinter
preted. But at least now, she wouldn’t rage at Les about Jayne when she next spoke to her. She’d listen, as she should have done in the first place. A glance at her comm unit told her it was almost 22:30. As soon as Ann left, she’d beep Les. She wouldn’t sleep until they’d talked. “Thanks for following me in here.”

  “Well, you are Andrew’s sister.” Ann lifted an eyebrow. “And maybe this would be a good time to mention that you’ll fly three of your five shifts with me, including the one tomorrow morning. I figured I’d better make sure you’re all right, so I don’t have to play counsellor when I’m in the cockpit. And I don’t want to have to crank up the music to drown out your crying.”

  Mo almost chuckled. “Good. I’m glad it’ll be you,” she said, temporarily abandoning their game of pretending they weren’t really friends and didn’t care about each other. Maybe someday they’d both abandon it permanently.

  The door chimed. Mo groaned. “Can you get that?” She set her tziva down and lay on the sofa so she couldn’t be seen from the door. “Tell whoever it is to get lost—nicely. Tell them I’m tired and I’ll see them tomorrow.” Then she realized how bad it would look if Ann remained in her quarters. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Thanks for staying with me.”

  The door swooshed open. “Come on in,” Ann said.

  What? Mo wanted to kill her. She struggled to a sitting position, furiously rubbed at her eyes, and ran her hands through her hair in a futile attempt to make herself look presentable. “I’m really tired,” she began, gearing up to quickly shoo the visitor out of her quarters. Her breath caught in her throat when the newcomer rounded the sofa and looked down at her. “Les!”

  “See you at 10:00,” Ann said. The door swooshed shut behind her.

  Still in her cloak, Les set Mo’s violin and the knapsack she shrugged off her back onto the floor. She dropped into the chair Ann had vacated. “Your violin.” Her voice lacked its usual vigour. “You’ll need to practice. I brought you some clothes, too. I figured you have a uniform in your locker. If not, you’ll have to get one from supply.”

  She couldn’t have made Mo feel worse if she’d tried. “Thanks,” Mo murmured, shocked by how tired and defeated Les looked. Her eyes were puffy, her skin mottled, and she remained slumped forward, as if buckling under an unbearable weight. Mo slid to the edge of the sofa, then stood, waited for her head to stop pounding, and went to her. She crouched, placed a tentative hand on Les’s leg. “I said some terrible things to you.”

  Les continued to stare at the floor.

  “I wish I could take them back. I wish we could start the conversation over again. I shouldn’t have run out like that.”

  Still no response.

  “I should have listened.” She hesitated, then said what had to be said. If Les laughed and called it absurd, Mo would laugh along with her and blame Ann. “Ann thinks you were going to ask me about Jayne...how I feel about her.”

  When Les jerked her head up and met Mo’s eyes, Mo expected to be blasted for discussing what had happened with Ann. She resisted the urge to shrink back, gripping Les’s leg instead.

  “How do you feel about her?” Les asked.

  So Ann was right. But anger wasn’t fuelling Les’s intense stare. It was pain; a pain so raw that it ripped through Mo too, exacerbated by the knowledge that she’d deeply wounded the woman who mattered to her more than anyone else ever could—including Jayne.

  Les was waiting for an answer, her eyes shining with tears. “I said I’d love you no matter what, and I will. But I need you to be honest. Don’t...don’t make this worse by not respecting me.” When she blinked and returned her gaze to the floor, Mo grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Les’s fingers felt lifeless; they didn’t curl around Mo’s.

  “Les—” She had to stop; Les wasn’t the only one struggling with her composure. Mo pressed her lips together and closed her eyes until she was sure she could speak without breaking down. She’d never imagined that she could hurt Les like this. “Les...I do respect you.” So she’d be as honest as she could be, and not give the answer she’d want to hear in Les’s boots. “I don’t know how I feel about Jayne, and I’m not saying that because I’m trying to dodge the question. I don’t know! I—when Ann said—I don’t know. I’m confused, okay?”

  “So you might have feelings for her.” Les’s voice was flat.

  “Yeah.” The word hung between them. “Why don’t you take off your cloak and we’ll talk. I’ll make you tziva.” What she wanted to do was wrap her arms around Les and hold her, but... Oh, who cared how Les might react? Mo squeezed Les’s hand, then let go of it and used Les’s leg for support as she pushed herself up. She reached for Les, then sucked in her breath when Les grabbed her wrists.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Les said. Mo’s confusion turned to horror when Les clarified what she meant. “I said I wanted honesty. I don’t want you acting out of habit. I know...” Les’s shoulders heaved; she let go of Mo’s wrists and dropped her hands to her lap. “I know your feelings for me have probably changed.”

  What? “Les, my feelings for you haven’t changed! I love you! You mean everything to me.”

  Les shook her head. “That can’t be true. You care about someone else, Mo.”

  No, no, no! This was worse than any nightmare she’d ever had. “No! I mean, I might, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Any feelings I might have for Jayne have nothing to do with you. It has nothing to do with us.”

  Les’s skepticism was written all over her face. “How can it not have anything to do with us? If you were happy with us, you wouldn’t want someone else.”

  Fear gripped Mo. If the tables were turned, she would have thought the same; she would have interpreted Les’s feelings for Jayne as a rejection of her. But it wasn’t like that! She loved Les, still wanted Les, would die for her without a second’s hesitation. She wasn’t sure what she felt for Jayne, but she flaming-well knew how she felt about Les! But would Les believe her? “Les.” She crouched again, gazed up at her. “I love you. My feelings for you haven’t changed.” Her fear that Les would never believe her deepened at Les’s dubious expression. How could she get through to her? Saying the same words over and over again wouldn’t do it.

  Les glanced at her comm unit. “I have to go.”

  When she pushed herself up from the chair, Mo straightened. “Stay.”

  “I can’t. I have my course tomorrow.”

  “So take an early shuttle.” Mo knew she was being selfish, especially since they would have had hours to talk if she hadn’t run out on Les like an idiot. “As it is, you’ll get home really late. You’ll get around the same amount of sleep whether you’re here or at home.”

  “I can’t risk it. If I oversleep here, I’ll have to wait for another shuttle. At home, I can be in my aviacraft within twenty minutes.”

  Was that why, or did Les no longer want to share a bed? “Les, I am so sorry I ran out. We do have to talk. I hate to see you leave like this. I’m worried about you.” Her hopes rose when Les appeared to think it over.

  “I’d like to stay, but I can’t.”

  At least that was something. “I’m coming with you to the waiting area.”

  “You don’t have to. You look...tired.”

  She wanted to cry. That was her Les, ever polite and thoughtful. “I don’t care how I look. I’m coming.” Les didn’t protest.

  As they walked down the corridor and then stood silently in the elevator, Mo felt as if she were with a stranger. Normally she’d think nothing of taking Les’s hand, but Les would think she was acting out of habit or obligation, that she didn’t really care. What could Mo do to make it right?

  When they reached the waiting area, the shuttle was already boarding. Mo grabbed Les’s sleeve, afraid that Les would proceed right through into the boarding tunnel without breaking pace. They faced each other. “Thank you for bringing my violin, and the clothes,” Mo said. “I’m glad you came. Will you beep me when you get home?”


  “No. You’re flying a shift in the morning. You need to sleep.”

  “I won’t sleep, Les.”

  Les sighed. “I’ll beep you tomorrow, after my training.”

  Mo couldn’t resist the urge to touch her any longer. She reached for her, and blinked back tears when Les’s arms wrapped around her. “I’m sorry.” She pressed her cheek against Les’s, held her tightly. “I do love you. You have to believe that.”

  “I want to,” Les murmured.

  Mo’s heart sank at Les’s unspoken But I can’t.

  Les stepped back. “I have to go. I will beep you tomorrow.”

  Mo stood in the waiting area and stared down the boarding tunnel long after Les had disappeared. On some level, she felt worse than when they’d parted outside her aviacraft at the beginning of their separation. Back then, they’d been right with each other; an external force had ripped them apart. But now...

  All those temper tantrums Mo had thrown at Les’s perceived disloyalty to her—how stupid and childish! Had she ever truly doubted Les’s fidelity and love? No. But Les was honestly struggling and questioning Mo’s love for her, and Mo didn’t know how to make her see that she loved her as deeply as she always had.

  Back in her quarters, Mo sat at the comm station and typed a dispatch: I’m not worried and concerned about you out of habit. I love you. I’ll show you how much I love you for the rest of our lives. I thought maybe I’d come down tomorrow, be there when you get home. We’ll only have a few hours, but I can’t bear not being with you when I know things aren’t right between us. If I have to, I’ll come down every night. Coming up here is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done. I won’t blame you if you think I’m stupid, but I won’t let you get away with thinking I don’t care about you. I do.

  Love, Mo.

  With a sigh, she pressed the send button, then forced herself to get ready for bed. She lay awake, watching the time change on her comm unit and desperately hoping for a reply from Les.

  None came.

  *****

  Mo opened her locker after her shift and eagerly grabbed her comm unit. She checked her dispatches, hoping to see one from Les. Yes! But she wouldn’t read it here, with others milling around. Guilt stabbed through her when another one caught her eye, from J. Adams. She wanted to read that one, too. Argamon!