Gregg Hurwitz - Minutes to Burn

Cameron ran her fingers through her hair, scratching her scalp near the back.

"He's not taking charge," Szabla hissed. "He hasn't been on top of things since he's been back. It must feel too similar to-"

Cameron interrupted, her voice slow, weighed down. "He'll get it under control. He always does." She leaned over and gently touched the larva's back before she realized what she'd done and pulled her hand away.

"I called in to Mako today. Just before I paged Tucker."

Tank propped himself up on his elbows. Cameron turned slowly. "You did what?" she asked.

"You heard me. I am the AOIC and I have grave concerns about Derek's ability to lead this mission. Now that a legitimate threat has been introduced into the equation, I'm even more concerned. We need to bump him and reestablish the chain of command."

"With you taking over."

"That is how it works," Szabla answered coldly.

Cameron found a stick and pushed it into the ground, her lips pressed together. "Glad we're being supportive. His comrades in arms. I mean, if he can't count on his platoon-"

"Cameron. Fuck you and wake up. This isn't Aunty Jane going into rehab. This has turned into a serious military op. Loyalty is not the most useful attribute right now."

Cameron cleared her throat sharply. "What'd Mako say?"

Szabla looked away. "My complaint has been registered, but he doesn't want to contradict an officer downrange. If he shuts Derek down, it looks bad all the way around. It would take a substantial amount of pres-sure to get him to do that-we're not gonna have the time to tap dance around."

"So what are you saying?"

"At some point, it might be worth being more…active, even if it means we get brought before the commander when we get back," Szabla said. Cameron shook her head, cursing softly. "You're gonna be key here, Cam." Szabla leaned back, studying the sky. "You're the one every-one trusts, though why exactly that is beats the shit out of me."

Cameron looked over at Justin, but he was watching the fire, the flames playing across his face. Tank angled his arm back, cracking his shoulder.

"Regardless of how swell and interesting our scientists and Derek might think this thing is," Szabla said, jerking her head toward the larva, "we have no idea what it's gonna metamorphose into. Savage's story may be true."

Tank regarded the larva suspiciously. Justin laughed, a dry, hollow laugh. "Or we could be wrong and this thing could be harmless."

Cameron's face contracted as though she were going to cry, though she felt no tears moving through her. "I hope so," she said quietly. She rose, brushing the dirt from the log off her behind. "In any event, I'm gonna go warn Ramon and Floreana."

"Who?" Szabla asked, but Cameron was already heading for the road.

Szabla pried a piece of bark off the log between her legs. "Maybe the world is coming undone," she said. "Cam didn't request permission."

The wind was drawing through the watchtower again, howling like a banshee. Somewhere, moving beneath the surface of the sound, Derek thought he heard his baby daughter's laugh. It twirled like a wind chime and vanished back into the howling.

He trudged along the field, reflecting about responsibility. It was something he spent a lot of time thinking about, particularly Before. He had a responsibility to complete the mission, to assist in all aspects of Rex's survey, but there was also something more than that. A responsi-bility to life, a responsibility to protect things that could not protect themselves.

He had failed once already.

Cameron called out once as she neared the small house so as not to surprise the couple or find herself on the wrong end of a swinging ax. She gazed at the dark stretch of the forest in the distance, the ribbons of garua hanging in the air like bands of fabric.

Ramon met her at the door, his dark hands and dirty fingernails pro-nounced against the light bloque on which they rested. "Hello, gringa," he said. Cameron noticed for the first time the space between his front teeth, a gap from which he drew attention away with the sharp line of his mustache.

"Hola," Cameron said. She started to speak, but he stepped forward and embraced her. Awkwardly, she allowed herself to be hugged.

"You are good to have come and checked on us," he said.

"How is she?" Cameron asked.

Ramon stepped back, gesturing for Cameron to come inside.

Floreana was sitting in a wide wooden chair at the kitchen table, her legs spread and her stomach bulging out before her. She was dozing off, her head rolling forward before snapping back up. Cameron and Ramon watched her for a few moments, and Cameron felt her first smile in a long time rise to her lips. Floreana's eyes finally flashed open, catching a glimpse of the visitor, and then she was wide awake, scolding her husband.

"It's all right," Cameron said. "I'm just glad to see that everything's okay. How are you feeling?"

Floreana groaned, lacing her hands dramatically around her belly, as if carrying a load of laundry. She stood, arching forward to stretch her back. When she saw the expression on Cameron's face, her smile van-ished. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Cameron shook her head. "I'm sorry to alarm you." She looked down at her boots, her men's size-ten feet. "As if you don't have enough on your mind right now."

"What?" Ramon asked. His thumb twitched against the scar of his index finger.

"Well, that thing you talked about, whatever it was, it may have killed one of our men. I'm just concerned… I'm concerned if it comes near here that you… the baby…I don't know." Cameron's face was flushed, though she had no idea why. She fought to keep the softness of her emotions from seeping into her voice. "I would stay here myself to stand guard, but I can't. It would be breaking orders."

Ramon smiled at her affectionately, and Cameron realized how fool-ish she must sound to this kind, simple man-a woman offering to pro-tect his house.

"We'll be all right," Ramon said. "Though I thank you."

"For what?" Cameron asked.

Floreana stepped forward, resting her hands on Cameron's shoulders. "For your thoughts," she said. "For your kind eyes."

Cameron looked down. She twisted her boot on the dirt ground, leaving the imprint of a fan.

"You are not like most of the others, you know," Floreana said, tilting her head in the direction of the soldiers' base camp. "We have watched them, joking and planning and quarreling." She shook her head. "You are not like them."

The urge to respond defensively rose in Cameron's throat-just as quickly, it quelled. "Why?" She surprised herself. Her cheeks were burning and her eyes felt loose, as if they were slipping in their sockets.

Floreana raised a hand, laying it gently on Cameron's cheek. Cameron had not been touched like that by anyone except Justin since childhood. She felt suddenly young and naive, powerless. "You have so much to give," Floreana said.

Cameron raised a hand, gripping Floreana around the wrist and pulling her arm away. She smiled once, curtly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm…not used to… " She studied the small fireplace, feeling Ramon's and Floreana's eyes on her.

She turned to leave, then stopped herself. Slowly, she raised her head, again meeting Floreana's eyes. She saw her own trembling hand pointing at Floreana's stomach. "May I?" she asked.

Floreana nodded. "Of course."

Cameron reached out and laid her hand across Floreana's full belly. Her knees felt weak, on the verge of buckling, so she sank down, planting them on the dirt floor. Floreana pulled the blunted edge of Cameron's hair off her cheek and drew her softly toward her stomach. Cameron turned her head, resting her ear flat against the globe of Flore-ana's belly.