Overload Flux

by Carol Van Natta

  Twenty-one minutes later, Luka, carrying the med kit, came and got her. He led her down to the sleeping quarters level and into the large fresher with its eight community showerheads that Jerzi had discovered. Each showerhead array had its own settings, plus dispensers for soap, shampoo, depilator, and lotion. She helped Luka out of his armor and boots, and he did the same for her. They spread their armor and clothes under one shower head and set it to a pounding wide spray. Her upper armor was irreparably compromised on the side where the beamer had burned through.

  Luka opted for the simple expediency of starting his shower with the rest of his clothes on, then peeling them off once the worst of the grime had rinsed off and the dried blood had softened. Mairwen had to help him with his T-shirt, giving her a closeup look at the massive, swollen bruise that covered his right shoulder. Without a minder healer or treatment, it would take weeks to heal. Other scrapes and cuts materialized as the dirt washed off, and she winced at the awful extent of the laceration on his muscular thigh. She hated to think how much worse off he’d have been if he hadn't been wearing flexin.

  She’d rather hoped the first time they got to see each other naked would have been under different circumstances.

  She felt unexpectedly shy once she’d removed her own clothes and knife sheaths. She’d never been modest before, but she’d never been naked with someone she wanted to want her. Stop being ridiculous, she told herself. She stepped into the deliciously warm, soft spray.

  The water at her feet swirled brown with grime and pink with blood as it poured into the drain. She hoped the ship had a good filter and recovery system. The warmth felt good on the bruise over her cracked ribs, and she got used to the sharp sting from the water on her abrasions and burns. She rejected the cloyingly floral shampoo in favor of the unscented liquid soap. She couldn’t help but hiss in pain as she massaged it over the bump on her head, discovering a gash hidden by her filthy, matted hair. She worked the snarls, trying to untangle them.

  “Let me help.” Luka’s voice startled her because he was suddenly close, and she hadn’t heard or smelled him.

  He gently pushed her hands away, then turned her so the back of her hip and shoulder angled into his side. He gently cupped water over her head wound and used delicate touches to cleanse her hair and the laceration.

  She wouldn't have thought that the feel and slide of his bare skin against hers would be more powerful than the pain, but it was. Pleasure fluxed haphazardly through her, like a river finding a new path through storm debris.

  Driven to make more contact, she leaned closer, causing her hand to encounter his mangled right thigh. It was his turn to hiss in pain.

  “Sorry.” She clasped her hands in front of her and made them stay still.

  “I'm okay, ástin mín,” he breathed.

  He added more soap to his fingers and delicately swirled them through the rest of her hair. It was a strange mixture of pain and relief when he finished and guided her under the soft spray for a final rinse.

  His left hand slid down her neck and onto her shoulder, and his right slid around to her waist, where he pulled her gently against him and his arousal. Even though it felt good, she couldn't help but gasp in pain as her broken ribs grated under his touch.

  “Sorry.” He glided his hand over her shoulder and sighed. “We have the worst timing.”

  “We do,” she agreed, though she was on a knife's edge of not caring. It was killing her not to turn and rub herself up him like a cat, melding her body with his.

  “You really took a beating.” The pressure of his breath in her ear sent tingling warmth through her that had nothing to do with hot water. She only barely suppressed an overload tremor. “Could I persuade you into the autodoc?”

  She shook her head. “It's not safe.” She couldn't afford to leave personal biological samples in a strange unit, and she didn’t trust it not to administer unknown drugs with unknown side effects on her altered body.

  “I'll keep watch if you'll use it for you,” she said, half turning to look at him.

  His expression shadowed. “I don’t like medical beds.” He stepped away. “Let's patch each other up with the med kit.”

  She felt suddenly cold, despite the warm water still misting over her. And along with everything else, her lower left calf was starting to remind her that it had been pierced by a flechette.

  She dropped to one knee to pick up her sopping wet underclothes. She turned off her showerhead, then limped to the one on the other side of the room, where she'd left her outer clothes and flexin armor. She turned everything over to get the last of the gunk off, picked up her three remaining knives and five sheaths, then turned off the showerhead and left the clothes to drain.

  She looked around for the solardries and was surprised not to find any, especially since this was a community shower. Quick-dry blowers were the easiest way to get people out faster. Even her no-frills apartment had one. She headed for the towel cabinet.

  Luka rinsed off the last of the depilator, leaving his handsome face smooth once again. She idly wondered why he hadn’t had his beard stopped more permanently, like Jerzi obviously had. He turned off his showerhead and met her at the towel cabinet, limping only slightly. His thigh still looked like ground meat.

  He handed her a towel and took one himself. The room was chilly now that she wasn’t being sluiced by hot water, so she dried quickly and wrapped the towel around herself, knotting it above her breasts to give her some semblance of warmth. The scrape on Luka’s thigh smelled obscenely fresh, but it was no longer dripping blood. He took another towel from the cabinet and helped her dry her hair, gently blotting the area around the head wound. She would never get tired of his touch.

  “Jerzi said he found clothes in one of the staterooms. Let’s see if we can find some, too,” he said, dropping the bloody towel on the floor near her wet clothes. Nudity didn’t bother him, for which she was privately very glad.

  On their way out, she saw her boots, and wondered what to do about them, since the inside of one was sticky with congealed blood. Luka's boots looked no better.

  A search of the fifteen identical double-occupancy rooms yielded a hodge-podge of wearable items that would do until the industrial-sized clothes sanitizer they’d found finished cleaning and drying their own clothes. She could make do with the large, long-sleeved faded blue T-shirt. A large pair of men’s red boxers would serve as half pants, though she had to knot the elastic waistband to keep them up around her smaller body. She reattached the sheaths to her upper back and forearms and slid the knives in place. She left the empty ankle sheaths with her boots and damp armor.

  Luka wore mismatched socks, loose knit boxers, and a tattered bog-green long sweater, all of which made him look like he’d dressed out of the lost-and-found box. He’d mock-growled at her when he’d caught her smiling at his attire.

  He made her sit in a stateroom on the lower drop-leaf bed. He gave her an infraheat pack to hold on her ribs while he sprayed dermaknit on her various burns and abrasions. He used a wound pack on the through-and-through hole in her lower calf before spraying it, too. On her head wound, he applied dermaknit paste, which hurt more than the burns because he had to press it in. She gritted her teeth against the pain and resisted flinching, using the delicious clean scent of him to distract herself. She could shut pain off when she had to, but it was better to heed her body’s warnings when she could.

  When it was his turn, he sat patiently still but swore under his breath while she applied dermaknit and liquid skin sealant to his thigh. She was beginning to recognize the individual Icelandic curse words.

  He carefully pulled on the pair of stained, loose cargo pants. She was glad he'd found them, since the ship felt cold even to her.

  He dug in the med kit for painkillers and found both jets and orals. She shook her head when he offered them to her.

  “Are you really allergic to pain meds?” he asked. He dry-swallowed a pill.

  “No, they’re just
pointless. My high metabolism and body chemistry burn them out in minutes. The vasodilator you gave me earlier probably lasted ten minutes at the most. If I’m really hurt, a healer can help, but…”

  “…it’s not safe,” he finished when she trailed off, tenderly stroking the side of her face, avoiding the scrape along her jawline.

  He slid back in the bed until his back was against the wall, then pulled her gently into his arms, her back to his chest. His arms and legs cocooned hers. She leaned her head back on his good shoulder and closed her eyes. His head dropped back to the wall. Despite her stinging pains and bone-deep aches, it was the most comforted she’d ever been in her life. A peaceful lassitude stole over her, and she drifted into a blissful, hazy doze.

  And because the universe hated her, they were interrupted only four minutes later.

  “We’ve got company,” announced Haberville over the shipcomm, “and someone needs to get her skinny ass up here and be ready to handle the jacked laser.”

  Luka’s deep groan expressed Mairwen’s feelings exactly. She reluctantly slid off the bunk.

  He stood and leaned in for a quick kiss. “If we live through this, I swear I’m going to pop that woman.”

  Mairwen caressed the side of his entirely handsome face. His rebellious hair was already starting to go its own way, in spite of having been determinedly slicked back. “Ignoring her works better,” she said.

  “I’m not as good at that as you are.” He pushed a stray lock of her hair away from her eyes.

  “You’re a nice human being. I’m not.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Just because you were created by monsters doesn’t make you one. Need anything?”

  “Socks and a jacket, or a blanket.” She put a hand on his broad chest, feeling his warmth through the ragged sweater. “I’m cold without you.”

  The smile he gave her took her breath away. “And here I thought I was the only one,” he said, his voice low and intimate. He rubbed her arms up and down twice, then let her go.

  CHAPTER 21

  * Interstellar: “Beehive” Ship Day 01 * GDAT 3237.044 *

  In the nav pod, situated in the top center of the ship, Haberville had several holo displays going at once. She wasn’t jacked in to the navcomp, probably because she didn’t trust it. Considering what had happened on the Berjalan, Mairwen didn’t blame her. Haberville hadn’t had a chance to shower, so she was more than a bit rank. Mairwen cut off her awareness of the smell.

  “Krishna’s flute, what did you do, volunteer for target practice?” She was staring at Mairwen’s various bandages.

  Mairwen shrugged, not bothering to comment. None of them would win the company good health award for a while.

  Haberville gave Mairwen a shipcomm earwire from a drawer full of them, then had her sit in the co-pilot chair and gave her a brief explanation of how she’d modified the co-pilot interface to direct the lasers.

  “I don’t have space combat experience,” said Mairwen.

  “Really?” asked Haberville, her disbelief evident. Mairwen gave her a bland look. Haberville rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let the navcomp find the targeting solution. Use your brain for strategy and tactics.”

  “Understood,” Mairwen said. She began decluttering and reorganizing the interface to be more manageable.

  Haberville scowled at her. “No test firing. So far, our two little friends don’t know we’re here.”

  Mairwen let Haberville’s unnecessary admonition slide. “What are they?”

  “One’s a glorified bus like ours, but the other is a surplus military corvette, probably with aftermarket armament.” She gave Mairwen a wolfish grin. “They think they’re on a wild goose chase, so they’re active-scanning all over the place. Even their comms are in the clear. Not the sharpest knives in the drawer.”

  Mairwen gave Haberville a small smile in return. Whoever hired this merc company had obviously selected based on price instead of performance. Perhaps even deep-pocket pharma companies had budget pressures.

  Haberville manipulated her interface to enlarge one of the holos. “Here’s us, in green, hiding among this big cluster of rocks, tucked into the shadow of an icy chunk with an iron core.” Two more moving icons appeared, each with labels. “And here are our little friends. The transport like ours is designated Blue One, the corvette is Blue Two.”

  Mairwen may not have known much about space combat, but she had a lot of experience analyzing and evading search patterns. After a few moments of reviewing the recent movements, she said, “The transport won’t go in the asteroid belt. The corvette believes asteroids aren’t a threat.”

  “Noticed that, did you?” said Haberville. “I bet he’s up-armored with a shield generator, making him feel invincible. If I had even a single mass driver, I’d send that corvette our icy chunk with its heavy iron core. That would take him down a peg or two.”

  “Would thermolytics do? There may be some in cargo.” She remembered them from a merc conversation she'd overheard during her scouting reconnaissance of the base.

  “Nah, too uncontrolled, but they might make a nice diversion.” Haberville keyed the shipcomm. “Hey, boys, when you get a minute, check the cargo area for anything fun our merc jerks might have left for us to play with, like things that can go boom in space.”

  After a long moment, Luka’s voice came through the console speaker. “Jerzi’s gone to look. I’m coming up with soup in about five minutes.”

  “Oh thank the billion gods of the multiverse,” said Haberville. “My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.” She released the shipcomm key and began muttering unintelligibly to herself.

  Mairwen ignored her and considered non-suicidal strategies for luring the corvette into laser range. There weren’t many.

  Luka was a welcome diversion, and the soup was hot and satisfying. He also brought a scrounged scarf and overcoat and insisted on helping her into them, careful of her cracked ribs. The overcoat was entirely too wide for her and smelled like a smokehouse, but it was long and warm. She gave him a soft, amused smile as he pulled the overcoat’s collar closed over the scarf and buttoned it, like he was bundling a child up for a walk in the dead of Etonver’s winter.

  Haberville’s sigh was obnoxious. Mairwen ignored her and focused on Luka, willing him to do the same. He tried, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away. He gave her a brief, rueful smile and turned to go, but stepped back to her side again when Jerzi arrived carrying a tray with four steaming mugs.

  “Coffee for us, homemade Nuevalle hot chocolate for Mairwen. No caffeine.” He handed out the mugs.

  Mairwen nodded her thanks, then took a tiny trial sip. Sweet, smoky, creamy chocolate flavors danced across her tongue. She was sorry she hadn’t tried it before. She savored more sips as Jerzi reported what he’d found in cargo.

  “About twenty thermobaric shape charges and sixty self-contained thermolytics, all det-value five Gs, a hundred packaged KemX cubes, and enough timed detonators for the bicentennial fireworks show. Even better, we’ve got at least four wrapped pallets of lab supplies and a huge cold unit with what looks like thousands of samples from the planet. If we can save them, there’s no way Loyduk can explain them away. Oh, and I also moved our packs and stuff to the big sealable hold closest to the lifts. They got kind of scattered during takeoff.”

  “Is the cold unit tied down?” asked Haberville.

  “Built in. It’s not going anywhere.”

  Mairwen noticed Luka watching her as she drank, so she concluded he was responsible for the hot chocolate.

  “Good?” he asked quietly. He was looking pleased with himself.

  “Yes.” She flashed him a quick smile to let him know she was charmed by his quest to expand her gastronomic horizons.

  Haberville whistled to get their attention. “The engine pod’s available if you two want to be alone for a quick hot-connect.”

  Luka sighed and started to respond. Jerzi beat him to it.

  “What are you, five years
old? Quit being an asshole.” His normally genial face showed deep irritation.

  Haberville’s look of smartass challenge faded under his uncompromising stare. She turned and concentrated on the nav interface.

  “Fine. Go make as many twenty-G thermo packages as you can,” she said, not looking at anyone. Jerzi and Luka exchanged a silent look, then left together.

  Mairwen shifted her attention to monitoring the two merc ships as they bumbled their way along a search pattern. Wargaming children could have done a better job.

  Underneath, she wondered how much longer it would take for La Plata to realize something had gone wrong and call Concordance Command. Even if none of the distress messages had made it out, Zheer should have taken action when Luka didn’t report in on schedule. Regardless of Haberville’s considerable skill and the merc company’s considerable incompetence, the longer they were forced to stay in-system, the more their odds of staying safe deteriorated. They needed to leave.

  “What’s wrong with the navcomp?”

  Haberville snorted. “Whoever piloted this piece of shit was a tweaker.” She said the last word with the loathing usually reserved for discussing rotting fish.

  Mairwen shook her head, not familiar with the term.

  “Tweakers reprogram the navcomp because they think they can do transits better than hundreds of years of experience, all so they can make faster jumps or exit closer in-system. There are no old tweakers.” She gave Mairwen a pointed look. “Not even among jack crews.”

  Mairwen gave her an expressionless look. Haberville frowned in irritation, then scratched under her shirt and winced.