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Tally stood trembling, over Nicte’s fallen body, the bloody rock in her hand.
Free from Nicte’s influence, Raelle, Scylla and Abigail ran towards Tally Craven. Raelle made it there first.
“Tally - what happened?” she asked.
“She was trying to kill me,” said Tally slowly. “She was trying to kill me, and all of you were off fighting each other.”
Abigail walked over to Tally, put a hand on her shoulder. Tally flinched, and dropped the bloody rock in her hand.
“Raelle - can you fix her,” asked Tally quietly. Raelle knelt down, felt for a pulse, any sign of life.
“She’s dead, Tally,” Raelle responded.
-----
Tally vomited on the flight home, over and over again. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. They were supposed to capture Nicte Batan, bring her home, and tell Fort Salem the truth. But here Tally Craven was, with Nicte’s blood on her hands, and no truth.
They brought the body back. It was looking at the corpse that started Tally’s puking. Where there had been a woman, there now was nothing but a shell. Tally knew that Nicte had killed. Innocents. Civillians. The rest of the strike team that had come with the unit. That didn’t make her feel any better.
When they landed, they were treated like heroes. They were celebrated, smiled at by everyone (except for Petra Bellweather, whose face was blank).
Most of Fort Salem partied that night, loud and rowdy. Tally just tried to sleep. Tried not to think of the way Sarah Alder had smiled at her during Sarah’s rousing speech. Tally hadn’t had the energy or the inclination to stomp her feet after it.
Sleep did not come easy to Tally, but it did come. At sometime near two in the morning, she finally slept.
----
“Private Craven - you’re intruding,” said General Alder. She sat at the base of a tall tree, a glass of whiskey in her hand. Her biddies were nowhere to be found.
“I don’t mean to,” replied Tally. The ground underneath her felt like a cloud, but it held her up in the normal way. Tally walked to the tree, and sat by the General.
“You should be happy, Private Craven,” said Sarah. “You’ve accomplished something that will be talked about for centuries.”
“I wasn’t supposed to,” said Tally, playing with her fingers anxiously.
“That’s true. Petra Bellweather told you otherwise, didn’t she. Thank you for your loyalty, Tally,” said Alder softly, placing a hand over Tally’s. Tally pulled her hand away quickly.
“I shouldn’t have,” Tally said, looking into Alder’s eyes.
“And yet you have,” said Alder, who proceeded to take a long sip from her glass. “But you’re unsettled by it. Which is why you’re here, sharing this dream with me. I didn’t invite you here Tally - you wormed your way in.”
“Does it get any easier?” asked Tally. Alder smiled bitterly.
“It doesn’t. You will make hard choice after hard choice, and you will never be thanked for it.”
“This is what it’s like being you, isn’t it?” said Tally.
“A little bit, dove,” replied Alder. She passed her glass to Tally, the whiskey in it refilling itself. “Drink with me?” Tally took the glass, and raised it.
“To Nicte Batan - the last person who had any hope of spreading the truth,” said Tally, who then took a swig. Another glass appeared in Alder’s other hand, and she raised it.
“To Nicte Batan - murderous bitch, and someone I once loved,” said Alder. Then she drained the glass, which then refilled itself. “To the dead - those I fought to keep from it and those I put there myself. To what I did because I thought it was best. To the ghost of other worlds where I might have done differently,” she said, and then drank again. “To you Tally Craven, who knows my faults and yet only mostly hates me. That's all I can ask for.” Alder downed one last glass, then threw the cup to the side, shattering it on the ground. She stood up, then leaned down, kissing Tally Craven on the forehead. Tally didn’t move away.
-----
Tally woke up to darkness. It must still have been the middle of the night. Immediately she knew her dream had been more than a dream, that it was some remnant of the biddy connection.
She resigned herself to never speak of it again. To never speak of any of this again. Who was she to judge Sarah Alder? They were both killers.
“All secrets keep,” Tally whispered. And she would.