The group marched forward in silence. It was a stark contrast to the previous missions they took together, heck, as little as a week ago. Maybe the parvs of SubTerra were getting burnt out from the constant trips to the surface. You know that's not true, Meghan thought to herself. There's another reason why we're so quiet. She sighed softly. For the first time since she met him, she was having doubts about Jacques.
It was an inescapable feeling, and like many feelings, not based entirely in logic. Everything seemed to be just fine with his newest plan. End the war once and for all, good. Give the parvs the freedom they crave, outstanding. History would remember them all as saviors, perfect. It all sounded so wonderful.
I don't want to kill an entire species. A part of her understood the need for what Jacques wanted, and Meghan tried to convince herself over and over that this was no different than the other assassination missions she took a part of, but doubt still remained. No matter how she twisted it, this wasn't just murder. It was genocide. And the fact was that if she was having these thoughts, then there must be others in the group who felt the same.
How did it get to be this way? She wondered. Jacques never used to be so... so... Her mind hovered over the word 'crazy' for a fleeting moment. Extreme.
"The exit to the tunnel is just ahead," Jacques called back to the crowd. "Then we go topside. That will be the most dangerous part; we'll be in the view of the humans, so we have to stick to the grass as much as we can." He shot her a smile, and went on. "The time of the parvs is almost here."
A cheer from the crowd, not as loud as one would expect from a moment like this. Meghan stared at her leader, at her lover. His thick, dark hair that she loved to run her fingers through. His strong, massive frame. She remembered the first time she saw him; it was the most beautiful moment of her life. He had just came to SubTerra, escaped from the same tunnel that she had once used. Oh, he was so perfect, so in control. He had placed his hand on her chin and told her everything was going to be alright, and she just melted.
She fell in love with him. Now when he puts his hands on her, it's more out of frustration. He doesn't like when a plan goes off of the tracks, which was happening more and more. She tried her best to be as perfect as he wanted her to be, but it was such a difficult task. Often he would raise his voice to her, shout that something wrong, even though she was never told how to do it right. He would expect his soldiers to be able to think like he did, and would get vocal when they failed. A far cry from the golden-voiced angel that had swept them up oh so long ago.
Yet on they marched. They were in too deep, now. They saw the example that was made with Turner; the guy was lucky to still be alive. And that poor guard that had allowed those prisoners to escape... well, Jacques was determined to have a public execution that morning, one way or another.
Meghan marched behind her leader. She held such a high position in this place. If Jacques was king (something he had hinted at as of late) then she would surely be his queen. If anybody was going to have his back through thick and thin, it would have to be her. So that's why she marched onward to this grim conclusion. Not for her place in the history books, or for the extinction of her enemies. She marched out of love.
But with each step, she liked it less and less.