"A prophet," Hedric repeated.
He made no move to stop her. In fact, his entire body seemed rigid, unmoving in the corner, blocking the only exit. Because she knew him, Reesa understood that posture. It was classic Hedric Prosser, squared against his enemy, ready to kill. She recognized it and tried to resign herself to it.
It was tragic, she thought. Absolutely tragic that David would wake her with the news that she would be the first Mavirus survivor. Tragic and unfair that whatever future that news had opened for her would be snuffed out just moments later. But it was nothing less than fate that it would be Hedric who was the death of her. She had, after all, essentially put the man through eight years of hell, shoving him in and out of dire circumstances, killing his friends, endangering his life.
And taking Mesa.
"Tell me," he said after a minute. "When you were writing me out, did you see this coming?"
Reesa shook her head, too terrified to speak.
"That's not very prophet-like."
"I'm ... I'm just an author ... " Reesa felt hot tears slip over her face. "Please ... "
His head cocked to the side and she read the struggle on his face. Reesa stopped pleading. She almost stopped breathing, but when he asked his next question all the air left her.
"Was Mesa happy?"
She didn't know why exactly, but the question broke her heart. Whatever answer she gave him, Reesa knew he would kill her anyway. Were she a more vindictive person she might have lied and said no. Then let the man torture himself with questions for the rest of his life. In the end, however, Reesa was not capable of that sort of cruelty. She thought she should be, with everything he had done to her and Kate, but the words she gave him were that of comfort.
"Yes," she said. "Mesa was very happy."
*
"General Archibald Erid, current head of the Makeem Loyalists, announced his intentions to investigate the so-called redeemer of womankind. "If there is redemption in the eyes of the Lord, he certainly hasn't informed me of it," said an angry Erid at a press conference held last night at his home. It is unclear whether or not he has sought sanction from the Community for his intended investigations." - A.P. Monday, November 26, 2998
Chapter Twenty-Seven
"You were right, sir. The Lothogy is docked here in hanger three," Romberg said.
The communications device at the base of his ear was quieter than wearing his helmet, but Matt heard him clearly. He nodded to Chamberlain and Newbill to confirm that they'd heard the report, too. They waited by the docking area, each of them in an eclectic sort of personalized armor.
While all three had chosen to keep their combat vests on, Newbill had chosen to equip shin and forearm protectors as well. Chamberlain was more practical. He'd forgone the shin guards and chosen just the forearm protectors. But they were both armed with three light weapons ranging from nine millimeter to forty-fives. Anything above a forty-five could upset the equilibrium of the Balor's internal pressure system, otherwise Matt suspected they would have preferred to confront Hedric with their customary weaponry.
Matt could see the violence in their faces. Neither of these men had forgotten the deaths of Knox, Finnegan, and Pitts. While Hedric could only take the full blame for Knox's death, Matt knew his men would still hold Hedric accountable for the others.
His own heart twisted at the memory of Finnegan's death, but he pushed the emotion aside as the loading dock opened. With his own weapon at the ready, Matt led the way into the hanger bay.
The Lothogy looked like hell. It stood to the left of the Io, half of its surface blackened by burns. Large sheets of metal patched several places along the hull of the ship, testifying that Hedric hadn't wasted any time.
"One heat signature on the Lothogy," Romberg relayed.
"On it," Newbill said.
Matt nodded to him and watched as Newbill ran for the Lothogy's loading plank. Even with the shin guards the man made very little noise. A moment later Newbill disappeared into the Lothogy and Matt had to change his focus.
The two guards normally stationed at the Balor's internal door were down. Motioning to Chamberlain, Matt hurried across the bay and to the first guard. He knelt beside the body and checked for a pulse, already knowing there wouldn't be one. Chamberlain did the same for the second guard and shook his head.
"I've raised Baine," Romberg said. "Patching him through now."
"Sir," Baine's voice came through the line a second later.
"We've got uninvited guests," Mat said and signaled for Chamberlain to open the internal doors.
They both took position on either side of the door.
"Yes, sir," Baine said. "Three detachments have been sent. Alpha detachment hasn't responded in two minutes. Bravo is holed up on the south side of the medical bay. Apparently there is a barricade between them and the quarantine room. And Delta is headed toward you to insure there are no escapes."
The doors opened and Chamberlain checked to make sure the way was clear. At his signal, Matt nodded and they both entered the corridor beyond.
"I doubt they mean to escape, sir," Chamberlain said.
Matt grunted his agreement, keeping a steady pace toward the medical bay. There were relatively few bodies strewn across the naked hallway; hapless civilians and scientists who had wondered out of their prospective rooms at the wrong moment. After the first three Matt gave up checking them for signs of life. Hedric and his team were far too accurate and their victims hadn't known what was coming.
"Boss," Newbill's voice overtook the comms. "I've got Alexander Keats here. He says you've got two men headed for Reesa's position. Hedric and Jellison."
"You believe him?" Chamberlain asked.
"Considering we found little bits and pieces of Freeman on Mars and Myron is laid up in our own medical unit," Newbill said, "Yeah, I believe him."
They'd reached the medical bay doors. Matt veered to the left, crouching low under the viewing window and paused to catch his breath. Chamberlain slid to the right of the door, just as low, and raised a ruddy eyebrow at him in question.
"Alright," Matt whispered into his boom-mike. "Newbill, secure Keats and head to the south entrance to medical. See if you can't clear away that barricade."
"Roger."
Taking a firmer grip on his weapon, Matt nodded to Chamberlain. The man nodded back then lifted himself just enough to peer through the window. When he had settled back onto his haunches, Chamberlain signaled that there was one hostile, facing away, positioned somewhere on the southern side of the room beyond.
Matthew reached up to release the doors.
He heard the magnetics release and something clanked to the ground on the other side of the door. He spotted the grenade as the door slid open and shouted a warning. Scrambling to his feet, Matt ran for the far end of the hall. Shots were fired behind him and he ducked his head.
Heat and light exploded through the corridor, knocking him off his feet. He slammed face first into the western wall and fell. Shrapnel seared through his pant leg and embedded itself deep into his calf muscle. Several other bits pounded into the back of his combat vest and he had the presence of mind to curl up and protect his head.
Underneath him the ship rocked with the sudden explosion, air pressure redistributing itself quickly. He heard Baine ordering all of the safety procedures, sealing off medical from the rest of the ship in case they had to vent.
Dazed, Matt struggled to sit up.
A spherical ball of fire was eating at what oxygen was still present and suddenly Matt wished he'd worn his full suit. Not only would he be able to breathe inside the helmet, but he wouldn't have a finger-sized bit of metal lodged in his body.
Sealing them off would stop the output of oxygen into their area, he knew. They didn't have much time.
His mind flicked to Reesa. Her quarantine room ran on a separate air supply, so she should be safe even if they had to vent the whole bay. If she was still alive, he thought.
Grimacin
g, Matt probed the gash in his leg with his fingers until he located the shrapnel. He pulled it out carefully, hissing in pain, and tossed it aside.
Chamberlain was prone just behind him. Matt shifted to check on him, praying he hadn't lost another soldier. He found a steady, rapid pulse and he breathed in relief.
"Newbill, redirect to my position. Chamberlain is down."
He didn't have time to hear the response. Sharp pain thrust through his ribs and Matt fell forward. Chamberlain suddenly burst into action, firing three times at a spot just behind Matt and rolling to his feet. Matt watched in confusion as his soldier launched forward. Their attacker was Jellison. Sweat streaked and boxy featured, there was no mistaking the military man. The two men collided with a meaty, visceral sound and combined grunts of pain.
Bracing himself with the wall, Matt glanced between the fight and the open medical bay doors. The fire was between him and the doors, a glowing orb right in the center of his path. He'd never really seen a fire in artificial gravity before. It made an upside-down teardrop shape, pointing toward the gravity controls built into the flooring, but didn't move from its spot. That seemed odd to him but he really didn't have time to puzzle it through.
Jellison and Chamberlain crashed into the wall beside him, Chamberlain on top. Matt thought about aiming his weapon but knew he wasn't a good enough shot. He'd likely hit Chamberlain instead.
"Boss!" Newbill shouted as he ran into the corridor. He was lugging a canister of Co2 repellent and proceeded to douse the flame ball until it sputtered out. Then he turned to where Chamberlain had wrestled Jellison down onto the floor. "Go get your girl, Boss. We've got this."
Matt nodded and made a hurried limp for the medical bay.
***
Hedric felt her words more than he heard them. They settled hard on his chest, sunk deep into his core and rent him in two. Somewhere inside him he'd known that would be the answer. He'd known because their happiness had been shared. Mesa could never have hidden such an emotion from him. He was simultaneously soothed and incensed by hearing it confirmed.
The Zimmerman woman had gotten to her feet. Hedric managed to focus on that. She stood just two steps away from him, one hand holding tight to the IV pole, the other covered her mouth. She had Mesa's blue eyes, round and wide and terrified as she gazed at the doctor's body. That was wrong somehow. Mesa had never been terrified. His wife had been strong and brave. Zimmerman didn't deserve to be compared with her.
The woman's gaze lifted and locked with his. He saw her face drain of all color. Doubtless she read the violence in his expression, a violence he began to resent himself for holding back. He didn't realize he had moved but he spotted the flash of blue in those eyes, the glisten of petrified tears just behind them.
She made a frightened, whimpering sound that irritated him.
He backhanded her, knuckles connecting with her chin in a sudden, furious move. Zimmerman toppled backward, into the table, the IV pole dragging behind her. Because he knew it would cause her pain he grabbed the pole and wrenched it away. The tube tore out of her hand with a fine spray of blood and the woman finally screamed. Hedric grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. She tried to hold onto his forearm, to loosen his grip, to kick him, but her movements were flailing and wild. Undisciplined.
He squeezed harder, digging fingers and thumb into the sides of her little neck and felt fine bones roll just beneath. The gurgling wheeze that slipped past her suddenly blue-tinged lips was intensely gratifying. So Hedric held on, glaring into those blue eyes that looked like Mesa but held none of Mesa's life force behind them.
An explosion rocked through the ship, throwing him off balance. Hedric let go of her to catch himself on the bed. Beyond the quarantine walls he could see Jellison turn to the left. His soldier fired several times, rushing for the western doorway.
Hedric looked down at where Zimmerman had fallen. She was hacking, desperately trying to breathe, and he smiled. "I hope that's your husband coming."
"Please ... " she wheezed. "If I ... If I could fix it ... I would."
"Fix it? You think there's any way to fix this?"
Hedric vaguely remembered his mother promising the same thing. Celeocia had said she might have a way to fix it, too. What had she hoped Reesa could do? Write the woman back to life?
No, he thought. There was no fix to this. There was no secret way to undo the past, to bring Mesa back to life. There was only that black wall of grief, fully present in front of him with no grayness in between.
"I am ... so sorry." She lifted herself onto her hands and knees. "I know it doesn't help ... but I am so ... so sorry. She didn't deserve what I did to her. None of them deserved it."
Hedric stood still. Zimmerman was crying. He heard the sincerity in her voice. He could feel the sharp bite of her emotion as she finally looked up at him.
"If you kill me now, perhaps you'll feel better. But I doubt it." Reesa shook her head and gave him a faint smile. "Under all that pain, Hedric Prosser, you are still a good man. That's the man that Mesa fell in love with. A man capable of extreme strength, who stood up when others might cower down."
Hedric swallowed tightly but didn't respond. His mind was utterly blank.
"Maybe I deserve to die for what I did," she went on, slowly getting back to her feet as she spoke. "But there is mercy even for the likes of me."
That got his attention. Hedric leveled his weapon at her, anger igniting somewhere deep inside him. "Your husband didn't show any mercy to Mesa."
"That's enough!" Borden's voice was muffled but clear through the Plexiglas.
"Matthew Borden himself," Hedric sneered, unable to quell his pleasure at the man's presence. "I was hoping that was you."
Matt limped to the quarantine doors, a small pistol dangling in his right hand.
Hedric noted the weapon, noted too the way Borden first checked on the woman and then focused on the fight. He saw a telling twitch at Matt's left eye, visible even through two layers of Plexiglas. He couldn't stop himself from laughing.
He'd thought maybe David had been bluffing about Reesa being married to the man, but it was obvious now that he hadn't been. Borden really was married to Zimmerman, and Hedric knew by his posture and glare that real affection existed between them.
"God," Hedric chuckled wryly. "How long have we been at each other's throats? Seven years?"
"I never counted."
"Seven years, I'm sure of it," Hedric's mirth subsided quickly. "Seven years and I finally have something important to you."
Borden's expression turned hard. "There isn't a bargain in this galaxy that is going to keep you alive, Hedric Prosser. Touch her again and I will see you boiled to death. Slowly."
"Creative," he said. "Problem is, I don't intend to touch her again. In fact, I'm very glad you're here to see this."
The lights in the quarantine box switched to red and a sudden, light mist released from the vents. Startled, Hedric's attention swerved to Zimmerman, whose left hand pressed firmly to the euthanasia button. She darted for the oxygen mask at the bedside, and Hedric hesitated for approximately two seconds before he realized he had to move.
He ran for the doors and leapt into the decontamination chamber, coughing hard into the crook of his elbow. He heard Borden shouting something, felt the rattle of the outer chamber door as the arrogant man beat on it, and dizzily prayed that Caresse Zimmerman was already dead.
***
Matt hit the Plexiglas door again and seriously considered shooting through it. The more rational part of him stopped the action, remembering that the quarantine unit was designed to be bulletproof. The less ration part of him - a part he didn't recognize and didn't quite know how to deal with - was focused on the hazy view of his wife through gas and glass.
She'd managed to reach the oxygen mask but had passed out before she could secure it to her face. Her nose and mouth lay crooked in the well of the mask, half exposed to the deadly mist clouding the room. His chest cinched tight
just looking at her, renewed frustration making him kick the door again. Pain spiked through his injured leg and he swallowed a curse.
The decontamination timer ticked three more seconds before it opened.
If he'd been thinking straight Matt would have shot several holes into Hedric Prosser's body as he passed him. He was not, however, capable of thinking about more than Reesa and stepped over the prone, half-conscious man instead.
It was apparently exactly what Hedric had wanted.
Hedric punched his injury before Matt could pass him. An instant later Hedric was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Matt dropped his weapon, which caught Hedric's attention and they both lunged for it at once. They collided, grappling each other away from the gun.
Desperate for any sort of advantage against the stockier man, Matt slammed his elbow directly into Hedric's groin. Hedric grunted and fell forward. His hand knocked the gun away from the fight, which forced Matt to change tactics.
Launching himself off the floor, Matt got an arm around Hedric's neck and he began earnestly attempting to rip the man's head off.
The quarantine doors opened and Matt looked up from his battle. Chamberlain rushed into the little room, dark eyes fixed on the scene. Matt growled in pain as he felt Hedric's teeth sink hard into his forearm.
"Reesa!" He snarled up at his Fomorri.
Chamberlain nodded once and sprinted into Reesa's room.
With a sudden shout of rage and effort Hedric lifted himself, dragging Matthew up until his feet lost the floor. Then he rammed them both into the sealed outer doors. Matt almost lost his grip, but muscled his arm tighter around Hedric's neck and half-growled-half-shouted his irate determination.
Hedric slammed something hard into his side.
Pain knocked his grip loose and the blow came again. Matt made a clumsy grab for the control panel just to keep himself upright, distantly aware of the countdown until the decompression chamber would open. The large, black numbers blurred in his vision; four seconds.
But he was more acutely aware of the warm trail of blood that he could feel soaking through his shirt.
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