We see the world in ways we wish to see it until some great calamity opens our eyes to the truth behind the illusion.

— attributed to Erich Quizibian

 17 Decem, 5249 PD

Winston stood at the edge of the rocky beach, staring out at the shallow bay.  The sun was rising, painting the sky pink and gold, sunlight sparkling on the water.  The sight was almost enough to take his breath away.  It was hard to find vistas like this back home.

If I needed one shred of proof that these people are doing something right, it’s staring me right in the face right now.

“Enjoying the view?”

Winston stiffened slightly and turned toward Brendan Cho’s voice.  His brows knit slightly as he studied the pilot, garbed in his undress uniform, as if he was on his way to the base and stumbled upon Winston purely by accident.

That’s probably what he wants it to look like, anyway.  Winston nodded slowly.  “I haven’t seen anything like it back home.  It’s beautiful.”

Brendan nodded slowly, wandering down the path and onto the gravel that ended where the sand of the beach began.  “Lindsay and I used to come down here when we were teenagers to watch the sun come up.”  A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  “We weren’t like most teenagers.  She could never sleep because of the nightmares, I couldn’t sleep because I’d never been allowed to sleep past 0430 since I was eight.”

“You two grew up together, then?”  Winston crossed his arms against the chill coming off the water.  “I’m surprised.”

“Why’s that?”  Brendan asked as he drew abreast of him, staring out at the water with an almost wistful expression.

“I just didn’t think you’d been here for that long.  Not long enough to grow up with her.”

“We were teenagers together,” Brendan said quietly.  “I didn’t say we’d grown up together.  You did.”  He jerked his chin toward the water.  “I crashed there.  I was piloting a Corp dropship and we came down hard, cartwheeled through the bay until we stopped in the shallows.  That was the first time I ever stabbed myself in the implant.”

Winston blinked at him.  “You what?”

Brendan shrugged slightly.  “It was either that or die.  It wasn’t really a choice.”  His gaze grew distant for a moment.  “I was the only one that survived.  I wouldn’t have if Lindsay hadn’t kept Alana from killing me off.”

Winston whistled low.  That’s certainly not what I expected.

Brendan shrugged again.  “That’s life,” he said softly.  “A series of events that you can’t predict until they happen.”  He looked at Winston.  “Did you ever imagine you’d end up here?”

“Not in my wildest dreams,” Winston said.  “Just meeting Frederick Rose alone…”  He shook his head.  “I never would have imagined that he could somehow be alive and in hiding out there.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by it, but I am.”  He studied the pilot sidelong.  “Shouldn’t you be reporting for duty?”

“I’m already on duty,” Brendan said with a faint, wry smile.  “Ezra hasn’t cleared me for flight status and my students are going up on practice runs today.  One of my colleagues is leading the squadron, which frees me up for special duties.”

The plot thickens.  “Like shadowing me,” Winston guessed.

“I believe the term ‘babysit’ came up in the briefing.”  His grin broadened out and Winston couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because someone with your skillset shouldn’t be,” Brendan said.  “And even if you are, you shouldn’t admit to it.”

“Well put,” Winston said, still staring at the water.  “You’re correct in that assessment, I’m afraid.”

“It is as it is,” Brendan said.  “Was there anything in particular you wanted to see?”

“You mean other than more evidence regarding what happened at the Whispers?”  Winston smiled humorlessly.  His meeting with the Marshals and representatives of the Council had raised more questions than it had answered.  “I’m not sure what to tell you, Commander.”

“You’ll see what there is to see at the Whispers soon enough,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “The footage and everything else.  There’s rumblings of sending investigators of our own.”  His gaze slanted toward Winston.  “We want to know who killed it, too, Inspector.”

“Because you’re probably the real target.”

Brendan inclined his head.  “You said it.  I didn’t.”