by K S Augustin
“So, no drug, no anti-virus,” she concluded.
He coughed and grimaced at the pain it obviously caused. “Yes,” he said huskily.
“Where is it?” she demanded. She could almost hear the seconds ticking away.
“He has a locker in the gym. I always make sure the proper equipment is ready for him, and I make sure he gets the correct towels. The day one towels are white. The day two towels are green.”
The medication was in the towels? Moon frowned. “But lots of people handle the towels. How could you get them laundered, cleaned?”
“The virus is already inside him, waiting to be triggered. The benzodiazepine hybrid has a DNA-binder, tuned to Srin. It doesn’t affect anyone else.”
Moon was glad now she hadn’t given in to the temptation to rifle through Savic’s cabin. Even if Drue agreed to grant her access, she wouldn’t have known what to look for. And the loss of valuable time while she searched could have had disastrous effects on Srin.
He opened his eyes. “Will you do it? Give him the green towel. That will reset his system and bring down the fever.”
“He’ll be destroyed if I don’t.”
The gratitude on his face was unfeigned. “Thank you. I won’t forget your cooperation.”
Moon didn’t stay to hear any more words that would make her want to throw up. She asked a puzzled Jonez where the ship’s gym was located and hurried there at a half run. It was in a part of the ship she had never been to before, and she had to ask for additional directions from several soldiers she met along the way. Was this all part of a strategy, she wondered frantically? the apparent lack of straight, logical, multi-branched corridors, in favour of dead ends and curves? Was it intended to confuse enemy soldiers who might board the ship? It was certainly confusing her. Meanwhile, Srin was in her cabin, burning up with fever.
The gym was full of equipment and divided into sections. She ignored the speculative glances of those present and moved from room to room, quickly scanning the walls for evidence of lockers. She finally found what she was looking for, just before a sign that led to the showers. At first, she wondered how she would know which locker belonged to whom? she had forgotten to ask Savic in her haste? but was relieved to see names beneath each touch lock. Near the end, in the bottom row, she saw the name “Flerovs” and squatted down.
What if it was locked? Would she need to go back and force herself to talk to Savic again? Would he remember where the key was? Or was it in Srin’s possession? She hoped not; she had no confidence in getting any lucid information out of the man shivering in her bed. She pressed the panel to open the locker and, to her relief, it slid up noiselessly.
Inside were two neat piles of towels, white on her left, green on her right.
The day one towels are white. The day two towels are green.
That meant that the white ones were clean, free of the drug. While the soft, sage-green material contained the drug. How easy that made administration. Srin? with the memories of only two days? would think nothing of taking a green towel from his handler instead of the white. The gentle colour was camouflage for a lifetime of imprisonment and she knew she would never be able to look at that colour again without remembering.
She reached for the towel, then hesitated. Savic told her the drug would affect Srin, and no one else, due to its DNA-binder. But she couldn’t forget its devastating effects, both when it was delivered and when it was withheld. Before she could think of any more excuses, she grabbed one of the towels, closed the locker and strode away.
What she was doing was wrong. Srin had trusted her with his secret knowledge, had loved her with his body. And now she felt like a traitor. Her grip tightened involuntarily on the towel. If only there was another way.
Maybe she could appeal to Jonez. As a doctor, he had an oath to uphold. But counterbalancing that were the orders of the Space Fleet and the wishes of the Science Directorate—plus his own well-being. Under such pressure, a vow to preserve life was worth little more than a flimsy tissue. And even if he did agree to help, who knew how long it would take to wean Srin from the drug’s virulent effects? Days? Weeks? Time enough for Savic to appeal to higher authorities? No matter; any authorities would certainly overrule the objections of a scientist and a doctor.
Then there was Drue, with his driving need to ensure his mission was a success, lest the sword of persecution fall on him and his family once more. She knew he would not be party to any plan she thought up. The consequences for him were too dire.
The corridors looked more familiar as she hurried to her lab and into her cabin, hoping that Srin had somehow rallied while she was away.
It wasn’t to be.
If anything, the tremors rattling his body were more violent than before she left. She knelt by the side of her bed, watching him with worried eyes. His eyes were squeezed shut, but with such force that she was sure he was awake. The golden glow of his skin looked pale and sickly. Sweat matted his hair, dripped down his face and made ever-expanding dark patches on his clothes.
She couldn’t bear to see him like this. Even if she hadn’t fallen in love with him, the agony that was consuming him should not be inflicted on anyone.
He propped open one eye, and she saw pain dulling its usual silvered brilliance.
“Would you. Care to join. Me?” he asked raggedly, trying to dredge up a smile from somewhere deep within him.
Moon almost burst into tears.
“Maybe after you’re better,” she replied, trying to sound casual. “I might wear you out.”
The smile widened, but she knew how much it cost him when he had to close his eyes again to maintain it.
“Promises, promises,” he whispered.
“Hush.”
Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She smoothed the hair back from his forehead, the strands full of salty moisture that clung to her skin.
“I love you,” she told him softly.
He said nothing, but his free hand searched blindly for hers and held it tightly against his scalp.
And Moon, her vision blurring with tears, picked up the sage-green towel and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Chapter Twelve
It was done, and now she was as complicit as the Republic she was starting to loathe. And as trapped as she was before.
After she wiped Srin’s face, she persuaded him to catch a quick shower in her bathroom, then put him to bed again. Even as she watched, his fever seemed to ease and the sleep he drifted into was more peaceful than before. She tore herself away with a jerk and went back to her lab, the taste of bile bitter in her mouth.
She had saved his life only to destroy it—his and hers. But what was the alternative? To keep him hidden until his brain dissolved into a jumbled mess? Savic would get off scot-free, while she, Drue and Srin suffered the consequences.
And now she was back to square one. No, worse, because even her comfortable illusions had been stripped from her. There was nothing left but to continue her research and hope that, somehow, an avenue of escape could be found.
Driven, she worked through the night, feverishly mapping data to theory, her hand almost a blur as it scribbled notes, partial equations and number fragments on every clear centimetre of space. When she filled one clearboard, she sent it straight to memory, copying only the most complex of calculations to a summary pane for Srin to compute. Time flew by as she ruthlessly purged her mind of everything except the fission packet’s parameters. She would not think of Hen Savic, or Srin Flerovs. Not of Kad Minslok’s beliefs or Drue Jeen’s sadness.
A sound caught her ear. Startled, she swivelled in its direction. Srin was standing at the opening to the corridor to her quarters, leaning against the jamb. He looked tired, but he also looked better, almost back to his normal self. His caramel skin had lost its sickly overtone, and his eyes were bright and alert. He wore only a pair of pants. She gave herself over to the luxury of running her gaze down his body and over the tight muscles of his
abdomen before moving back to his face.
When he smiled, her heart almost broke. It was friendly, but impersonal.
“I’m sorry to be a bother,” he said, “but I can’t quite remember how I ended up here.” He looked around the lab. “Is Hen here?”
She put down the marker and approached him. He seemed unconcerned by her appraisal and, in fact, was looking her up and down himself. She smiled sadly when she saw the familiar spark of appreciation in his eyes.
“Dr. Savic has been injured,” she told him.
He appeared not to be listening as he cocked his head to one side. “Don’t I know you?”
Her breath caught. She knew he would remember Hen Savic because the man was such an intrinsic part of the past two decades of his life that he had wormed his way into Srin’s very consciousness. But what about her? Did he really recall a wraith of Moon Thadin, or did she merely remind him of someone else?
“I don’t think so.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Moon Thadin. I’m a stellar mechanic. Dr. Savic has assigned you to act as my assistant.”
His smile widened as he took her hand in his strong grip. “A pleasure to meet you, Moon Thadin.” And she knew he meant it. “I see you’re hard at work already.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied dismissively.
“I obviously did.” He looked down at himself and spread his hands. “And well, too, because I can’t remember where I left the rest of my clothes.”
“Your quarters are a little walk from here. I can take you there if you wish.”
“You mean,” he shot a glance down the corridor he’d just walked along, “these aren’t?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Then whose are they? Where did I just spend the night?”
She blushed and his gaze sharpened. “My cabin,” she said shortly.
His expression sobered. There was no amusement, but an intensity that discomfited and excited her at the same time. “I see.”
“I’ll see you to your quarters,” she said again. “You can get changed and come back here. I’ll make sure there’s some breakfast waiting for you.”
“Thank you, er….”
“Dr. Thadin,” she said firmly. “The name’s Dr. Thadin.”
He nodded and she led him out of the lab.
Maybe it was emotional overload. That was the only reason Moon could think of as to why she seemed so calm. She got through the rest of the day by stepping both of them through the frenzy of work she’d lost herself in overnight. At long last, she could see a glimmer at the end of the tunnel. It was all starting to make sense. The equations were clicking together like pieces of a jigsaw.
Unlike the rest of her life.
At the end of the day, Srin asked her out for dinner and she choked out a reply that she still had a lot of work ahead of her. He seemed to accept this even though he looked disappointed. That was the only moment where there was the very real possibility that she might lose her self-control and start bawling all over him.
Srin offered to help with her evening computations, but Moon turned him down. She kept on working, long after he had left, driving herself as hard as she’d done the night before. Finally, exhausted, she fell asleep in the clothes she’d been working in.
She woke the next morning with gritty eyes but—thankfully—no memories of any disturbing dreams. Later that day—day two! So soon!—Savic limped in on a walking stick, shooting a grateful glance at her.
“Thank you for looking after Srin for me,” he said with his characteristic rumble.
She didn’t want to answer him so she only nodded curtly and turned her attention back to her boards. But Savic wasn’t finished with her yet.
“Where is Srin?” he asked, limping up to her.
“Down in the cargo bay. He’s setting up a simulation exercise for me.”
She flicked a glance at him long enough to see his eyes brighten. “So soon? Things must be going well.”
“It all came together over the past couple of days.” She clenched her jaw and kept her gaze away from his hulking figure, willing him to go away, but he seemed determined to stay. She was, she decided, doomed to never get what she wanted.
“You must have been very busy, between the accident, your work and, ah, seeing to Srin.”
The way he said it made it seem sordid and cheap. She looked him full in the face, angry and indignant. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Savic held up one hand and looked appropriately shocked. “I thought, it just seemed obvious, that there was something going on between you and Srin. Even Captain Jeen noticed it.”
Moon’s anger shifted to chagrin.
“I’m glad Srin’s formed an attachment to you,” Savic continued in a rush. “It would have made the last few days a lot easier on him.”
“Easier than having his brain turned to jelly, you mean?” She was damned if she was going to stand there and have Savic view her as an ally. Not when she hated everything he stood for. What she had done, was done for Srin’s sake, not for the convenience of the Republic.
His lips tightened as he saw that the truce he obviously thought they had was only a figment of his imagination. And he demonstrated that he was more perceptive than she had thought. “Whatever reasons you may have had for doing what you did, Dr. Thadin, served your purposes as well as it did the Republic’s.”
Moon wanted to lash out at him, tell him that he was as rancid and corrupt as the government he worked for with such relish. But if she did that, there was not a single doubt in her mind that Savic would have her name at the top of a report winging its way back to the powerful Science Directorate. She had already been warned once, and she didn’t consider the threat an idle one.
“And what will happen once he’s finally outlived his usefulness?” she asked bitterly.
Savic’s smile was avuncular, but the gleam in his eyes belied it.
“Why, we’ll let him retire of course,” he boomed happily, “on a lovely sun-drenched little planet somewhere. We’ll make sure it’s off the beaten track, so he won’t be disturbed.”
Moon wanted to believe him. Finally, the hope for a life. Even if it was without her, that was still something worth striving for.
“But I’ll need to get going now,” he added. “Remind him about his daily workout. It’s important that he keep fit and healthy. Wouldn’t you agree, Dr. Thadin?”
When she didn’t answer, he laughed and turned away.
The headache throbbed behind his temples, but Srin ignored it. He lay on his bed, refreshed and pleasantly aching from his workout, and once more replayed the most incredible recollections in his head.
He had always known there was something wrong in his life, something he was sure was as deadly in its own way as it was mysterious. He was also sure he was not suffering from adult-onset progeria as Hen had suggested. And he knew that he was a mostly helpless pawn in a bigger game he didn’t quite understand.
Mostly.
With his new memories, even that wasn’t as crushingly certain as it used to be.
Moon Thadin. He thought he knew her and his memories confirmed he did. There was a fuzziness to any recollections that contained her, but he still remembered more than a day’s worth of experiences clearly. More importantly, he knew those experiences were no more than a few days old.
Here it was, finally. The hook he knew he’d been waiting for.
He clenched his hands and tucked them behind his head as he continued to think. It was no use getting excited before he had it all figured out himself. And it was critical that he figured it out correctly before he decided on his next move.
His last clear memories were from his late twenties. He had left Yolana on Tonia III to travel to one of the Science Directorate hubs, his funding proposal safely tucked away on several chips, in case one got corrupted. And there, he met Hen Savic, a tall friendly fellow scientist who was also applying for grants. They struck up a fast friendship. It
didn’t occur to Srin until later that it had all been one massive set-up, with money as bait for the trap, and Hen as his future keeper.
After that, it started getting fuzzy. He remembered being recruited to a classified project, relocation to Tor Prime, and promises of Yolana joining him. Hen was always around with a humorous quip or a suggestion, he remembered clearly. He was the one who often broke into Srin’s concentration, urging him to indulge in some physical exercise. It will help keep your brain alert, he was always told.
Srin grimaced as he lay on the bed, trying to carefully put the pieces together despite the aching in his head. Faint images of labs…other scientists…but Hen still there, always there.
Then, like a gem gleaming in a mountain of dusty ore, there was Moon. His hands clenched involuntarily.
And, like the shattered pieces of a mirror, dozens of discrete images flashed through his mind. He knew where they were. He knew what Moon was trying to do. He knew that, at some unknown urging from him, she had come to see that the Republic meant to use her work for harm. And he knew that she thought the two of them had a chance of evading the Republic and fleeing into the wider galaxy, if they did it together.
He also knew the feeling of Moon’s skin against his fingers, the soft whimpers of delight against his ears. He knew what it felt like to be inside her, massaged by her, aroused by her as he emptied himself in orgasmic oblivion. And he remembered experiencing pain and heat as a strange lethargy overcame him, needles of agony in his bones with each tremor that rocked him. He remembered her telling him she loved him, then?
Srin unfolded his hands and shot to his feet, hitting the side of the bed with one fist as he did so.
“Dammit!”
Then it was back to the fuzziness, the grey that obscured every memory he tried to retrieve. All he had left was one shining globe of memory, a fragment out of time. Except….