Reesa looked at her then, nodding once in confirmation before Kate's mind registered what was happening. Hedric had said he was taking her home, had continued to call her Mesa. The other men kept looking at her like she was an apparition. She'd recognized Keats by the physical description Reesa had made in her books, which meant that all these men were recognizing her for the same reason.
"You wrote me into your books?"
"You read them and didn't seem to notice," Reesa squirmed a little.
"Of course I didn't notice!" Kate felt betrayed; more than betrayed. Millions of people had read the books. She felt open and exposed and indignant. "How could you!"
"Like I knew something like this was going to happen!" Reesa defended. "And you said you liked Mesa."
Kate stepped away from her, getting far enough that her hip encountered the railing. The tight space kept her too close to Reesa as she battled her temper. The men around them watched with varying degrees of confusion and curiosity. She saw Hedric's eyebrow lift, felt the danger of their abduction settle hard and firm in her chest, and thought of Quinn again.
If she failed to return home, if the psychotic men surrounding her managed to keep her, if she died in the escape attempt - her mind rattled off all the possible endings to this scenario and overwhelming rage took over. With one quick, violent movement she punched Reesa square in the jaw.
Her friend's head snapped back as Kate's fist connected, and Reesa fell limp against Keats, who scrambled to catch the woman's body.
"Nice," the big man said with a note of humor.
"What just happened?" Myron asked from his chair.
Kate glanced at him, but became distracted with the view screen. They broke the surface of the ocean, water making rivulets over the screen as orange sunset overtook the view. She saw Myron flick some sort of toggle and heard a not-so distant clank and subsequent grind of motors somewhere in the main area of the ship. She had to steady herself as everything jolted and they became airborne.
There was conversation around her but she missed it, she was so intent on the screen.
It's fake, she thought. Think of the Star Wars ride at Disneyland.
But at the same time she felt dread well up in her chest.
"Get them in robes," Hedric said.
A hand touched her shoulder but she couldn't move.
"Captain," Myron reached into the folds of his shirt and pulled a rectangular and awkwardly mundane object into view. "You might want to take a look at this."
She saw the item pass to Hedric, registering at last what it was. The title of the book glinted silver letters up at her: Lionskins, A Tale of the Lothogy.
"Got it off a pretty girl on the beach," Myron said.
The hand on her shoulder increased pressure and she turned. She was so shocked she felt numb and could do no more than obey. She was led away from the cockpit, away from the view screen, and deeper into the ship.
*
"The World Science Community announced the successful melting of the Martian core. After months of drilling, W.A.S.A astronauts planted several specially designed explosives around the core. The experiment is meant to create the shifting tectonic plates necessary for the building of an atmosphere on the planet. With the successful bombing of the core, the astronauts of the Voyager 79 now have several months of observation as they wait to see if the core solidifies again." - A.P. May 9, 2213
Chapter Eight
" ... The little ship was faster, more agile than anything Mesa had ever handled before. She had to rely on her cybernetic arm to keep the movements on the yoke precise because it was infinitesimally picky. With her free hand, she tried to staunch the flow of blood from her thigh wound, stubbornly willing herself to think around the light-headed pain.
Matthew Borden would not tolerate the loss of one of his Fomorri vessels. She could almost feel time slipping through her fingers, seeping past pants and robes with the steady flow of her blood.
An alarm sounded as she was targeted and she had to flip the ship to avoid gunfire. Mesa suddenly wished she'd let Myron teach her the finer points of piloting. Which led her to think of Hedric and her heart ached with failure.
If she'd stayed with the plan, if she'd only gone after the MRD's, everything would have been fine. She would have made it off Outboard Jupiter with the information, delivered it to her husband, and they would have finally, finally taken a break together. There were moments it felt like they had never even had a honeymoon, Hedric kept them so busy with the Lothogy. She'd always dreamt of a lazy day on a warm beach somewhere with him, no contracts to bother them and no emergencies cropping up.
But there had been all those women.
All those poor women.
"Volunteers," she growled into the cockpit and swung the ship around in another evasive turn.
No woman would volunteer for a death like that. To be tortured with needles and tests and proddings, experimented on like animals, she thought with growing anger.
A line had to be drawn.
The alarms went off again and she prayed that Hedric would forgive her in the end."
Hedric stared at the book as he was bombarded with emotion. The narrative even sounded like his wife. It was so achingly frustrating that he growled at the paper-bound book. The words had Mesa's distinctive style to them, but the actual lilt of her voice eluded him. That seemed so damned unfair that he almost threw the book across the room. His fingers tightened on it instead, bending the binding until he heard it crack under pressure.
Mesa hadn't died for nothing. She'd died for a cause, for something more real than any mission they'd taken. David Borden was hunting for a cure to the Mavirus. While the cause seemed noble enough, the means could never be justified.
And that was exactly what his wife had found.
Hedric flinched at a sudden image of Mesa. She'd been wearing green when she left him; a dark green robe, her face the only part of her visible. But her face was enough. Serene, open, brave, she'd kissed him prior to walking away. He could remember a distinct swelling in his heart as she'd boarded the transport frigate. They had both known the danger she was walking into, but in his arrogance he hadn't been worried.
He closed the book.
Bright silver letters taunted him from the cover; Reesa Zimms. Science Fiction.
Fiction.
Rage consumed him. If the book could be believed then ultimately, Reesa Zimms had killed his wife. Reesa Zimms had murdered billions of women with a pen-stroke, shattered the human race and disfigured the entire female population.
And she'd done it all for money.
***
Recycled air had a smell to it. Musky, Reesa thought as she peered through the small porthole window, like standing next to a swamp cooler. If she hadn't been so preoccupied with the impossibility of her current situation, she might have remembered that she'd described the air filtration system on board the Lothogy in precisely that manner. As it was, she was lucky to remember why they had not disembarked from the ship yet.
When her pulsing headache had finally brought her back to consciousness she'd found that they had been moved to a more standard room on the ship. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she thought she knew where they were. Likely in Mesa's quarters, given the unusual secondary door in the left wall, she thought. It was only slightly more furnished than their original accommodations, boasting a small desk-like structure and chair bolted down beside the cabinet and bed.
Kate hadn't spoken to her since she'd woken and Reesa couldn't blame her. God knew she deserved every ounce of her friend's ire. This was, by most accounts, Reesa's fault.
Rather than face the silence, Reesa pooled her attention into the details of the room. Aside from the sparse furniture, there were no trinkets or paintings taking up space. It just didn't make sense to have the normal memorabilia on board a space ship. Too often the Lothogy would have to take evasive measures and anything not bolted to the floor became a liability. But there was one small por
thole. The Lothogy was the only ship in its class that could afford such a luxury. Science being the ever-evolving beast that it was, the Community had not come up with a reliable means to allow more than a five by five inch view through heavy plastic-like glass. In fact, whenever the ship had to make a jump through a worm hole, the porthole would be automatically covered by polyethylene cobalt steel. At present, however, it was open and she could see that they had landed in Australia.
Or at least the Australia she had created. Reesa's creative mind took over, answering the questions she hadn't asked yet. The ship had either gone under water or into space, which meant they had to systematically decrease the pressure in the Lothogy over the course of nine hours in order for their bodies to assimilate. Reesa couldn't remember the entire math, but it had something to do with the erosion of the ozone, depressurizing of gravity, and the balancing of the magnetic hull. It had looked very good on paper and gave the crew of the Lothogy several hours forced close quarters with each other.
Expelling an annoyed breath she muttered, "Yes, yes. It all looked so good on paper."
It appeared that Australia was in the middle of the dry season. Dust spiraled down a dry, cracked street, pelting against pyramid-shaped buildings made of cobalt steel. The pyramids were easier to keep cool, cutting back on the costs of energy. Reesa pressed a finger to her temple and prayed that she would wake up. She'd had visions of her created world before but nothing of this intensity.
For reasons she couldn't explain, her mind flashed to the first draft of the Lothogy series. She could remember, with vivid clarity, the feel of the laptop keys under her fingers. Everything had been poised, like the quick intake of a breath, holding and waiting to expel. Reesa could sense the waiting even now; it raised the hair on the back of her neck and arms, made her chest go tight and her fingers twitch with the need to write.
It wasn't always like that. The sense of disquiet, of basic need, only came to her every once in a while. More often than not she was writing and conscious of it, filling the page with color and detail because it was her craft, an obligation to years of selling novels.
But at that moment, nine years ago, sitting in her crappy little apartment, surrounded by two attention-hungry cats and a distinct lack of sunlight, the disquiet had come. And it had brought to her one name above all others; Hedric Prosser. The sense of him had been so strong that she had begun writing before she'd even decided on a theme or a genre. But for such a strong character to be interesting, she had to pit him against even stronger adversaries. So she'd mutated the natural life on Earth into something so terrifying that Hedric and his team of Field Arcs was not only wanted, but necessary.
"I wish I'd never written a word in my life," she said.
Kate snorted her agreement from the bed.
And then the door in the left wall opened.
Reesa knew she was in trouble when she saw the book in his hand. As Hedric stepped into their room, she spotted the yellowed and creased binding of the paperback and felt her heart jolt. Half of the title was hidden under his left thumb, but she knew it was one of her books. It was the latest installment of the Lothogy series, her fourth best seller, but more importantly, it spelled out the death of Mesa. Reesa wrote in third person, snagging tidbits of her stories from her chosen cast of characters, which meant that if Hedric had read the book, then he'd experienced his wife's death from her own point of view.
Reesa swallowed hard and forced herself to look him in the face.
He had read the book.
His blunt jaw was held tight, his lips pressed so hard that the edges went white with strain, and there was the tell-tale tick at the corner of his left eye. God help her, she knew him well enough to know that her life was in danger. Flawed characters made the best characters, so she'd made Hedric a mess of reckless behavior. He was an unstable, quixotic, volatile, walking bringer of death. Mesa had been his saving grace, a counterbalance, and now she was gone.
For long minutes he just stood there, probably hoping she would fall over dead with the way he was looking at her. Misery and torment contorted the long, jackal-like features she'd made him famous for. She needed to do something, explain herself, apologize, anything to ease him before he struck her.
When he finally spoke, hoarse and low, she felt fear like a rod of lightening in her spine. "You did this," he said.
Because she didn't know what to say, Reesa lifted her chin and fought for a brave glare.
"How could you?" he asked. When she still didn't respond he closed the gap between them, slamming a fist into the wall behind her with enough force to make it dent. "How could you?" he shouted again.
"It was a book! Fiction!"
Hedric gripped her tank-top and lifted until she lost footing, levering her body against the wall and bringing his face inches from her own. "Does this feel like fiction to you?"
"No," Reesa whispered, pain blurring her vision.
"Let her go," Kate's voice came out low and clear from just behind Hedric.
From the angle she was levered against the wall Reesa couldn't see more than her friends arm, but she recognized the position anyway. If Hedric didn't release her voluntarily, then Kate would make him. She felt mildly humiliated at having to depend on Kate for rescue, but reminded herself that her friend was trained for this sort of thing.
Very well trained, she thought, still feeling the ache in her jaw.
"Mesa," Hedric's eyes flickered with something dangerous as he glanced away from her. "Put your robes on."
"I'm not doing shit until you put my friend down."
Reesa felt a flood of relief at the word "friend." Kate was furious at her that was clear, but not so angry as to sever ties. She thanked whatever god was in existence for that small mercy.
Hedric dropped her. The metal floor did not agree with her deck shoes and she slipped to the ground, banging her knee on its unforgiving surface hard enough to make her yelp. With one last contemptuous glare, Hedric left them, shoving past Keats - who had entered at some point during the confrontation - and barking an order over his shoulder.
Hissing in pain and nursing her throbbing knee, Reesa nearly missed the order.
"Take us to Oahu," he'd said.
Keats appeared torn between following his Captain and lingering, but chose to leave in the end. The door closed and the hiss of the seal made a hollow sort of echo into the room. Reesa winced at the sound and shifted so that she could see her knee better.
The ache receded, fading from clear pain to low thrum, and she knew there was no permanent damage. Kate remained motionless a few steps away, staring down at her with a closed expression.
"We should really put the robes on," Reesa said to break the silence.
"I'm not going to feed their delusions."
The ship tilted and Kate reached to steady herself against the wall.
"... double strap if you can. If we run into Borden we'll need to play hard to get ... "
They both glanced at the intercom.
"... What about our guests, Captain? ... ."
Reesa frowned.
She really, really wished she'd never written the Lothogy Series. These men were perfect. Or near perfect; the mannerisms were correct, the physical traits were right. There was nothing to suggest that they weren't the real crew of the Lothogy. The thought made her glance at the porthole again.
Dream or reality, she asked herself.
"... Bring Mesa to the cockpit. To hell with the other one ... "
Reesa looked back at Kate. "Just put on the robes. Don't aggravate him more than you have to."
Kate moved to the outer door, ignoring her comment completely. A moment later they heard the hiss of the seal releasing and the door opened a bit. Reesa spotted Freeman as he started through the hatchway, and then Kate kicked the door shut against him. The unsuspecting Freeman was sandwiched between door and wall, breathing a dazed and surprised grunt. With a shout and a half growl, Kate thrust herself against the door and pinned h
im there. Freeman's nose broke on the corner of the door frame and he cursed.
"Tell your Captain I'll be staying right here," Kate hissed at him. Then she yanked the door open and pushed him out.
There should have been a satisfying slam of the door to complete the scene, but the magnets didn't allow it. They heard the door seal and then Kate moved to sit beside her.
"... She's being contrary ... " Freeman's suddenly nasally voice growled into the intercom.
"... Make her un-contrary ... "
"... Do it yourself ... "
Reesa almost smiled at the door. Freeman had always been her favorite crewmember. He was unpredictable, naturally curious, and lined with greed. While he had some deeper feelings for the Lothogy crew that he would never admit to, Freeman would leave the ship if there was a promise of better pay elsewhere. He wasn't bad looking, either. He just wasn't trustworthy unless you had deep pockets of wealth.
She could feel the rumble of the ships motors against her back and remembered Hedric's final order; Oahu.
Fear hit her hard. If by some god-awful fluke they really were on the Lothogy, if fantasy had somehow overlapped reality, then Oahu was exactly the wrong place for them.
"Kate, listen to me," Reesa half-turned to face her. "In the impossible chance that this is real ... "
"It's not real."
"On the off chance that ... "
"Reesa," Kate glared at her now. "Snap out of it. This is fake. These are crazy Lothogy fans and I need to know that I can count on you during our escape."
Grappling with Kate's command and the increasing sense of going insane, Reesa gazed at her friend. She wanted Kate to be right. She wanted it all to be fake, but in the pit of her stomach, she knew it wasn't. All her life she'd been chasing her dreams, closing herself off to the world and hunting for that one place where she would feel at home. Her fiction was an extension of that hunt, a desperate attempt to create the acceptance and comfort she'd been looking for. Reesa knew this, had always known it.
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