Without A Thousand Stars: Part II

Chapter 3

Alyce lay under a blanket on the narrow bed, her face pale and her eyes distant. Her hand rested protectively over her swollen belly, feeling the faint, fluttering life inside her.

Nora sat beside her with a bowl of warm porridge, the steam curling upward. She dipped the spoon into the bowl and gently nudged Alyce.

"Alyce, come on," Nora said softly, her voice steady, but there was a tremor of concern beneath it. "You have to eat something. If not for you, for that baby."

Alyce blinked slowly, her gaze dropping to her stomach. Jax's baby. She'd been so numb lately, barely able to process anything beyond the pulse of life growing inside her. With a sluggish movement, she pushed herself up, propping against the pillows. Her mind was foggy, her body heavy with grief and exhaustion.

Nora blew on the spoon, cooling the porridge before bringing it to Alyce's lips. Alyce obediently took the bite, swallowing slowly.

"Mmm, it's good," Alyce whispered, her voice barely audible.

Nora offered a small smile, relieved to see some response from her friend. She fed her another spoonful, speaking quietly as she did. "I'm here with you, Alyce. We all are. That baby's going to have a good life. Happy, loved. I promise."

Alyce nodded slightly, but tears welled in her eyes. She couldn't imagine a happy life right now, not with everything that had happened. But she wanted to believe in Nora's words—for the baby's sake.

Nora's voice softened even further as she placed a comforting hand over Alyce's. "But you gotta be strong, for that little baby, okay?"

Before Alyce could answer, Reyn interrupted, urgency in their voice. "Alyce, I have her. A secure line."

Alyce's heart skipped a beat, her hands shaking as she grabbed the visor Reyn held out. She slid it over her eyes with trembling fingers. The connection crackled, faint at first, before a familiar voice came through, weak and laced with sobs.

"Alyce?"

Alyce's breath caught. "Mom?"

Aelara's crying grew louder on the other side of the line. "Alyce, are you okay? Where are you?"

Tears streamed down Alyce's face as she struggled to speak. "Yeah, Mom, I'm okay. Zayne and Dad?"

There was a long pause, and Aelara's sobs deepened. "Zayne's good... but your father..." She choked, breaking down, unable to continue.

Alyce didn't need to hear the rest. The weight of her mother's grief said it all. Her father was gone.

Aelara's voice trembled as she spoke again. "They said... you had something to do with the bombing."

Alyce's heart pounded painfully in her chest. "No, Mom. I didn't. But I can't come home."

Aelara's tone shifted, desperation seeping into her voice. "But why? We can clear your name. You can—"

"I'm sorry, Mom," Alyce interrupted, her voice thick with sorrow. "I love you and Zayne. Take care of yourselves, okay?"

"Alyce—" Aelara's voice cracked, pleading, but the line went dead before she could finish.

Alyce tore the visor off and slumped forward into Nora's arms. The sobs she'd been holding back for weeks broke free, her body shaking violently as she cried into Nora's chest. Nora held her tightly, stroking her hair, whispering comforting words as she rocked her back and forth.

"I'm here," Nora murmured. "I've got you. You're not alone."

Alyce clung to Nora as though she were the last stable thing in her collapsing world, her heart shattering under the weight of loss.

—

Jax lay motionless in the hospital bed, his body sunken into the sterile sheets. His legs had been amputated just below the knee, the fresh bandages stark against the dull gray of the room. His wrists were restrained, held in place by thick straps, though he made no attempt to move. His eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling, but they were empty—devoid of recognition, of life. Just a hollow shell.

The faint beeping of machines filled the silence, monitoring his vitals, while the steady hum of fluorescent lights added to the eerie stillness in the room. Outside, through the observation window, Dr. Vox stood speaking quietly with Orion, whose face was set in a cold, indifferent mask.

"We've sedated him for now," Dr. Vox said, arms crossed as he looked through the window at Jax's lifeless form. "But he's still not talking or eating."

Orion's jaw tightened, though not out of concern for his son's well-being. His eyes were sharp, calculating. "So, he's useless to us," he muttered, the words cutting. "We can't get anything out of him." The concern wasn't for Jax's state of mind or his physical condition. It was for the lack of information—valuable intelligence about the rebels—that Jax had failed to provide.

Dr. Vox shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the hologram projected from his wristband. "Do you... still want to go ahead with the procedure?"

Orion didn't hesitate. "Do it. He's no use to us like this anyway."

Dr. Vox looked down, his fingers fidgeting nervously, hovering over the holo keyboard. "And... what about your younger son? And your wife?"

Orion's gaze remained hard, his voice cold as ice. "Them too."

Dr. Vox swallowed, nodding, though the unease was clear in his eyes. He turned away, walking briskly down the hall, leaving Orion staring through the window at Jax.

Inside the room, Jax's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, unseeing, unaware. The machines continued their rhythmic beeping, indifferent to the decision being made about his fate.