So obvious. How could I not have seen this before?
Of course Metias never talked to me about it. Officer and subordinate relationships are strictly forbidden. Harshly punished. Metias had been the one to recommend Thomas for Commander Jameson’s patrol . . . He must have done it for Thomas’s sake, even though he knew that it meant any chance of a relationship would be impossible.
All of this flashes through my thoughts in a matter of seconds. “Metias was in love with you,” I whisper.
Thomas doesn’t reply.
“Well? Is it true? You must have known.”
Thomas still doesn’t answer. Instead, he keeps his head in his hands and repeats, “I took an oath.”
“Wait a minute. I don’t understand.” I lean back against my chair and take a deep breath. My thoughts are now a whirling, jumbled mess. Thomas’s silence tells me far more than anything he’s said aloud.
“Metias loved you,” I say slowly. My words are quivering. “And did so much for you. But you still turned him in?” I shake my head in disbelief. “How could you?”
Thomas looks up at me from his hands, a flash of confusion lighting his face. “I never reported him.”
We face each other for a long time. Finally, I say through clenched teeth, “Tell me what happened, then.”
Thomas stares off into space. “Security admins found traces he left behind when he hacked through a loophole in the system,” he replies. “Into the deceased civilians’ database. The admins reported it to me first, with the understanding that I would pass the message to Commander Jameson. I’d always warned Metias about hacking. You cross the Republic too many times, and eventually you get burned. Stay loyal, stay faithful. But he never listened. Neither one of you do.”
“So you kept his secret?”
Thomas drops his head back into his hands. “I confronted Metias about it first. He admitted it to me. I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone, but deep down, I wanted to. I have never kept anything from Commander Jameson.” He pauses here for a second. “Turns out that my silence wouldn’t have made a difference. The security admins decided to forward a message on to Commander Jameson anyway. That’s how she found out. Then she tasked me with taking care of Metias.”
I listen in shocked silence. Thomas had never wanted to kill Metias. I try to imagine a scenario that I can bear. Maybe he even tried to persuade Commander Jameson to assign the mission to someone else. But she refused, and he chose to do it anyway.
I wonder whether Metias ever acted on his attraction, and whether Thomas reciprocated. Knowing Thomas, I doubt it. Did he love Metias back? He had tried to kiss me that night after the celebration for Day’s capture. “The celebratory ball,” I muse, aloud this time. I don’t need to explain that evening for Thomas to know what I’m talking about. “When you tried to . . .”
I trail off as Thomas continues to stare at the floor, his expression oscillating between blankness and pain. Finally, he runs a hand through his hair and mumbles, “I knelt over Metias and watched him die. My hand was on that knife. He . . .”
I wait, light-headed from the words he’s saying.
“He told me not to hurt you,” Thomas continues. “His last words were about you. And I don’t know. At Day’s execution, I tried to come up with a way to stop Commander Jameson from arresting you. But you make it so hard for people to protect you, June. You break so many rules. Just like Metias. That night at the ball—when I looked at your face—” His voice cracks. “I thought I could protect you, and that the best way might be to keep you close to me, to try to win you over. I don’t know,” he repeats bitterly. “Even Metias had trouble watching out for you. What chance did I have of keeping you safe?”
The evening of Day’s execution. Had Thomas been trying to help me out when he escorted me down to see the electro-bomb storage basement? What if Commander Jameson was preparing to arrest me, and Thomas tried getting to me first? To what, help me escape? I don’t understand.
“I did care for him, you know,” he says through my silence. He pretends bravado, some false professionalism. Still, I hear a tinge of sadness. “But I am also a soldier of the Republic. I did what I had to do.”
I shove the table aside and lunge for him, even though I know I’m chained down to my chair. Thomas jumps back. I stumble against my restraints, fall to my knees, and then grab for his leg. For anything. You’re sick. You’re so twisted. I want to kill him. I’ve never wanted anything this much in my entire life.
No, that’s not true. I want Metias to be alive again.
The guards outside must’ve heard the commotion because they come pouring in, and before I know it I’m pinned down by several soldiers, cuffed with an extra set of shackles, and untied from my chair. They drag me to my feet. I kick out furiously, running through a list in my head of every attack I’ve ever learned in school, trying frantically to free myself. Thomas is so close. He’s only a few feet away.
Thomas just looks at me. His hands dangle at his sides. “It was the most merciful way for him to go,” he calls out. It makes me nauseous I know he’s right, and that Metias would’ve almost certainly been tortured to death had Thomas not taken him down in that alley. But I don’t care. I’m blind, smothered by my anger and confusion. How could he do that to someone he loved? How could he possibly attempt to justify this? What is wrong with him?
After Metias’s death, on nights when Thomas sat alone in his home, did he ever step out of his façade? Did he ever shed the soldier and let the civilian grieve?