Dealing With Consequences

Chapter 5

 "Amara," yelled a familiar voice from ahead. Amara slowed her pace in the herd of medics exiting the hovercraft. T'ranthiom stood next to her trying to avoid the onslaught of people passing them. "Amara, dear, over here."

 "Oh my stars, it's General Fizamel," whispered a soldier next to Amara to Tony. Tony smacked the guy swiftly behind the head.

"Of course it is," Tony snapped. The soldier looked oblivious to his remark.

"I've never had him visit our arrival before," he stated in awe. Tony groaned.

"Doesn't a father have a right to welcome back his only daughter," he muttered before running ahead to a woman waiting behind the barrier holding an infant child. "Rose! We were selected!"

Amara ran her fingers through her hair and started pushing through the crowd to her father on the left side. She stopped and observed Tony holding the infant in his arms. Another soldier knocked into her where she stood and she stumbled backward into the arms of the awaiting T'ranthiom. The soldier muttered a short apology before heading on. He stopped and lifted a young woman over the barrier embracing her in a tight hug.

Amara jumped out of T'ranthiom's arms. She could feel the red of her cheeks forming. T'ranthiom burrowed his brows and stared at her. He bent down to eyelevel and ran his finger gently across Amara's cheek. This caused her cheeks to darken even more.

"Human, your camouflage is pointless here. Red clashes with your surroundings; you are easily seen by your enemies.  If any, I would have gone gray," he lectured still examining her cheek. She pushed away and covered her cheeks with her palms.

"What are you talking about," she snapped. She was going to lecture him on signs of embarrassment when strong hands grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. She was pressed up against cold metal and a hard chest in what was meant as a warm embrace.

"Amara," he stated robotically. He steadied his daughter and backed out of the embrace.

"General," Amara stated back just as coldly. T'ranthiom just stood by taking in the scene of the hull. He pounded his foot against the metal flooring.

"Soldier," General Fizamel commanded, "Report to your station immediately. Do you have nowhere else to be?" He placed his arm on Amara and guided her towards an opening. When T'ranthiom followed the general stopped and grabbed the dog tags around his neck. "Richard, report to your unit."

"My name is Tristan, Tristan Lytle," he corrected as we had practiced. Amara smacked her head behind him.

"But your tag says," the general started. Amara quickly cut him off from saying more.

"Richard was a fellow soldier who didn't make it. They were friends, dad. His tags were lost. I have filed the report for new ones. I told him to follow me. I think he may still be in shock."

 "Officer Brown," a man jumped forward as eager as a dog recognized by his owner, "Escort Officer Lytle to the infirmary." Amara started to protest. "We have an appointment dear, you may check on your little friend later." He gave "Tristan" the once over before grabbing Amara's arm and pulling her towards the opening while she protested.

"What appointment," Amara hissed when she reached the corridor leading to the medical wing.

"I made you an appointment to get it checked out," her father smoothly stated.

"What? Here? But everyone will know," Amara whispered. Her father chuckled.

"I called in a favor," he explained as he pushed Amara into a small observation room that opened up ahead of them.