Page 11 of Fated in A Time of War
Good.
“Name,” I bark.
Nothing.
“Rank. Unit. Commanding officer.”
She stares. Not blankly. Just... watching. Measuring. Like she’s trying to decide if I’m a bomb with a faulty timer or just another rabid dog too far gone to bite.
“Tell me how many Ataxian forces are near this sector.”
Still nothing. Her lips are chapped. There’s a scratch on her temple, bleeding slow.
I bare my teeth.
“You think silence buys you anything? You think you’re clever, hiding behind that little zealot medallion? You were skulking around my brother’s corpse while the smoke was still fresh. You think I’m gonna show mercy?”
She doesn’t even blink.
“I’ll break your legs. Right here. Won’t cost me anything.”
Her throat moves. Swallowing.
“Nothing to say?”
Still no answer.
I slam my fist into the wall beside her head. The panel cracks, dust raining down in a dirty cloud. Her eyes twitch but don’t flinch.
“Name,” I growl again. “Unit. You tell me what I want, or I swear to every god you fake-pray to, I’ll make you wish you’d died in that mech blast.”
Silence.
Just those eyes.
Calm. Unyielding.
It’s not defiance. It’s something worse.
She pities me.
Like I’m the broken one here.
Like I’m the one who needs saving.
I stand too fast. My head brushes the exposed beam. Pain lances my skull. I don’t care.
I back away, pacing. My fists clench and unclench, claws scraping armor. I want to hit something. Break something. Rip the world apart until it gives me my brother back.
But she just sits there.
And it’s the silence that cuts deepest of all.
That chews at me.
I’ve heard men die in every way there is—screaming, choking, gurgling through their own blood, whispering for mothers long dead. I’ve heard the silence of corpses cooling and the quiet of people too broken to fight anymore. But this… this is different. This silence isn’t emptiness. It’s a wall.
And it’s driving me out of my godsdamned mind.
