by Elin Wyn
"I like us how we are," he started.
"Like this?" I snorted. "You beat up, me nearly getting killed yesterday, both of us sneaking around, looking for the dust that weirdo stole from me?"
"No, not that stuff. That's not important." He took my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist, sending lightning through me, and filling my head with thoughts I certainly shouldn't be having about someone hurt as badly as he was. "How we are together." His thumb stroked the back of my hand while he searched for the right words. "We fight, but you hold your own."
"Idiot," I muttered. "I don't hold my own. I fight to win."
"That's what I mean. It feels like partners, like we could be something together." His eyes searched mine. "You're not afraid of me."
His taut face and narrowed eyes would have looked like pain on anyone else. I realized on him, that was worry. I leaned over to kiss him. "I can't imagine anything that would make that happen."
"What do you remember about your parents?"
It was my turn to stiffen. "I don't see why we're going there." The gentle stroking of his hand relaxed me again. "I remember enough."
He took a deep breath. "I don't remember anything."
"Is that all?" I cupped his cheek. "Half the kids you've seen on the streets here were dumped too young to remember anything. What difference does that make?"
He shook his head. "No, I phrased it badly. I don't remember parents because I don't have any."
I'll admit, my mind had a moment getting around that. "I don't understand."
He pushed himself up until he sat facing me. "I don't have parents because I wasn't born. I was made."
My lack of response seemed to trigger a flow of words, as if waiting for the one thing that would push me away. "My brothers and I were designed, modified in artificial uteruses, then force-grown in training vats. Our cosmetic differences are the smallest changes that the Doc made."
"Someone did this to you...."
“No. I've always been this way. This is all I've ever been, all I've ever known.”
My brain stuttered and spun in circles. Right. Answers. More answers would help.
“I have questions.”
He nodded, as serious as I'd ever seen him. “Anything.”
"Do you kill people for fun?"
"Um... not for fun, I've been on jobs that ended up with people dying." He rubbed his hand through his hair. "I'd guess that most of the time, they were soldiers, too, in someone or another's army."
“Have you ever taken food from anyone?”
An answering frown. “Not really my style, no.”
“Ever sold drugs?”
A flat "No."
“Have you ever killed a kid?”
“What?” For the first time, he looked like I'd hurt him.
I forced myself to look into his eyes. “Should be an easy one. Have you ever killed a child?”
“You know me better than that, don't you?” he whispered.
“Well, then,” I leaned over to kiss him squarely on the lips. “You're a hell of a lot more human than a lot of people I've met." I looked away, unable to face him with tears in my eyes. "Can we get out of here now?
Davien
Every bit of me ached.
I was pretty damn sure a few ribs were still cracked, at the least.
But for the woman who just tossed aside my fear - my entire Pack's greatest fear - and did it with a kiss?
Hell, I'd learn how to fly if she asked me to.
I pushed myself to my feet, fighting to keep any trace of discomfort from my face, and apparently failing.
"Never mind," she tugged my arm. "We should wait, you're still hurting."
"Nope. You're right. We need to get out of here as quickly as possible. I can do it, so I should."
I eyed the door. Helmet Head must have left after tossing me in here. There was no way it wouldn't have heard us. For a thief, Kara had an unusual sense of being quiet.
"I'll go first." I tucked her behind me, and, for a change, she didn't argue, just squeezed my hand and followed.
At the door, I strained my augmented senses to the limit, but picked up nothing but the faint whine of the commtower. "I think it’s clear."
In the hall, I paused again, but then she flicked in front of me, through the second and only other door on the landing. "Dammit, Kara," I muttered, but followed her.
Shutters blocked the light from the small room, but it didn't take much to see it was mostly empty, other than a single long crate.
"Locked," she mumbled and patted down her jacket absently, no doubt looking for some sort of pick or breaker.
I glanced over her shoulder for a better look. The crate was made of the same dark, heavy metal that had been used for my bindings, but the hinge had a slightly different sheen to it. Maybe it needed to be softer to swing open. "I don’t want us to spend more time here than we need.” To be honest, I didn’t really care right then why they’d chosen a different metal. I reached over her, shoved my fingers through one hinge, and tore it off, then the other.
“Impressive, but maybe not so bright,” Kara observed drily, as I leaned back against the wall, arm pressed tightly into my ribcage.
“Hassle me about it later.” I focused on calming my breathing, riding through the pain. “What’s in there?”
“Layers of packing foam, so far.” Rustling sounds, then a low whistle. “You’d better see this.”
I wrapped my arm around her as I came to the side. Partially for stability, sure, but mostly because I couldn’t get enough of how it felt when I touched her, like the warm glow of being in the med tank, safe and dreaming.
But what lay in the crate was something out of a nightmare. Long, gray, and gleaming, three long-distance rifles lay like deadly snakes, nestled in their padding.
“What is he doing bringing those here?” Kara breathed. “No one uses firepower like that in the dome.”
Unspoken was the fear of everyone who lived here, no matter which side of the law they were on. Just how thin was the dome? What would it take to crack it?
No one knew anymore, the building specifications were long gone. So, other than a few needlers and close-range phasors like Sary had used, there were no guns in the city.
Oddly, it was the packing material that triggered my response. “They came to trade with someone, maybe sell it.”
“How do you know?”
Ghost memories of making barricades with discarded sheets of the foam, laughing battles with my pack brothers down the passageways. My throat choked, the words stuck.
“Check the rest of the crate, but the vials aren’t here.”
She shot me a look filled with the promise of more questions but ran her hands carefully through the rest of the container.
“Nothing. Happy now?”
“Not exactly.”
I must have looked as crappy as I felt, because she glanced up at my tone, then blanched. "Shit, I'm sorry. We should get you home where you can rest."
“I’ll be fine, but, yeah, I’m ready to go.”
She nodded and headed out of the room, moving faster than I expected. I grabbed her before she hit the top stair. "So... you know how you asked about killing people?"
A cocked eyebrow was her only response.
"I'm pretty sure I killed the first Helmet before the second came in."
Her jaw clenched, but she nodded. "I'm glad you landed a few punches first." Her voice was tight under the light tone.
"Hey!” I didn't move from blocking the stair. "The body, it's not like anything I've seen before.” Crap. There wasn’t a good way to explain this. “I don't want you frightened.”
She rolled her eyes. “I thought you were dead. I'm plumb out of freaked for a while.” She softened her words with a kiss. "But it's sweet of you to worry."
Intensely aware of her behind me, I moved down the stairs, one cautious step at a time. If I'd misjudged, if the Helmet Head was still down there, I could fight it long enough for her to retreat, get bac
k out through the hole she'd cut in the plex. But I didn't know if I could take it all the way down. My shoulders stiffened. I would just have to do it. No way could I risk it following her.
At the foot of the stairs, I held her back, but still, nothing.
The wall of the front room bore the scars of the two fights. Most of the discarded furniture had been broken past repair, and the dented walls had more than one blood smear.
"Helmet Head," Kara breathed and walked towards the shape on the floor. The second one had moved it to lay against the wall, legs straightened, arm laid over its chest.
The pink tissue entwined with metal had dulled to grey, but the sight was no less disturbing.
Kara slipped her hand into mine. "Ok, maybe I did have a little freak-out left. What the hell is it?"
"I don't know. Doc would. Or, if she didn't, she'd be all over the body, trying to figure it out." Maybe I should try to figure out how to get it back to her. It'd be the favorite gift she'd ever gotten.
"Doc, that's the person that," she paused, and I figured she realized there wasn't a delicate word for it, "made you?"
I nodded, heading for the front door, her hand still engulfed in mine. I decided I liked it there.
We stepped into the street. From the lighting pattern above, it looked it like was still mid-day. Still, no sign of the second Helmet.
"Let's get going while it's good." Kara headed off through the maze of streets. She looked up, a line pressed between her eyebrows. "So, does that sort of make her your Mom?"
I laughed, then apologized quickly. "If what I've seen from old vids on the ship is any indication of motherhood, she's the least maternal person I've ever met. She's just curious about everything."
And I didn't know what was going on. The escape pods communications didn't have the range to contact the ship, and when I'd gone dirtside before, I'd always had coordinates to meet back up. And I'd never been gone so long. None of us had. When Doc sent us places, it was always in pairs. Hell, some of the younger batches had never even been off the ship.
If the Daedalus didn't survive the attack... My throat closed, and I wanted to punch something. Doc would never abandon it, her work, her little empire of science. And my brothers - either dead or scattered among the stars.
With a snap of my attention, I realized I hadn't paid attention to where Kara was taking us.
"Where are we going?"
She looked at me like I'd sprouted another head. "Back to my place. You keep saying you need rest, and it's closer than your room at Xavis'."
"Oh, no, we're not." I turned at the next intersection toward the larger port.
"Fine, Mister Crabby Pants."
"What did you call me?" I glanced down, amused at the nonsense phrase, to see her eyes wide open and staring blindly.
A fast visual sweep of the street didn't reveal any threats.
“Do we need to stop?”
“No,” her lips pressed together for a flash, then she grinned with grim resolution. "Why aren't we going home, again?"
"Because it wouldn't be that hard for someone to connect you with me," I turned us again, slowly making our way to the port district. "And while you think you've been careful, nothing is ever as secret as you think.”
She threw her hands up. "Then where are you planning for us to go?"
I grinned, glad she'd been distracted. "Waiting for you to tell me."
"You're impossible, you know that, right?" She moved as if she were going to storm off, but I pulled her back to me with a light tug.
"Quick, name the three fanciest dormers at the port?"
"You're kidding. We don't have the credits to spend on a bunk rack like that." Her eyes narrowed. "Do we?"
"Come on, come on." I snapped my fingers, knowing it would just piss her off.
"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "The Polaris, the Rings, and Meshato."
"Great. Now, name the three sleaziest.”
She socked my shoulder. "How do you think I'd know that?" A quick glance, and a smile. "Anything Xavis owns. So, the Lux, the Cisytem, and the Shaft. Oh, the Merryden should be in there, too."
I kept us walking, looking around for anyone that looked too interested in us. Nothing yet, but I didn't want to be on the street too much longer until I was back at full strength. "Last question."
Kara laughed. "I doubt it, but sure, go ahead."
"Three more dormers."
"This is a stupid game, you know that?" But she looked distant, in thought. "Well, there's the Fujara and the Star." We waited for a food cart to pass us, the fragrant steam making my stomach rumble. "Oh, and the Imperial. I always forget that one."
"Then that's where we're going. If it's the last place that comes to your mind, that'd be the last place someone would look for you."
She looked up at me, either doubt or amusement in her eyes. Maybe both. "That makes a certain crazy sense. But, just so you know, the Imperial isn't nearly as grand as it sounds. It's right on the edge of the dome, and entirely run by bots."
"Sounds perfect." My stomach rumbled again, loud enough to hear over traffic. "Just as long as we can get food there."
"It won't be like Artin's," she said, sadly.
"Nope. But I hate to tell you, not many dinners in the 'verse are like his. Better get used to disappointment."
The dormer was everything she promised. Small, a little rundown, too far out of the way of the path of most travelers to be convenient, not cushy enough to be worth the extra blocks for the rest.
I used a scrap of my shirt as a makeshift glove while flipping through rooms on the display. It wouldn't be hard, if someone knew what they were doing, to pull my print from my doorlock at Xavis', and run a match search for any other prints.
The rooms weren't as bad as the location made out, if outrageously priced. Kara gasped when I slipped a credit spike in after selecting the best thing offered.
"That's a ridiculous amount for a bed."
"Nope. Totally reasonable." I watched the lights flicker on the spike. In theory, it should rotate through account data, making it hard to track us by purchases. But I hated trusting the tech. "It's not just a bed, it's a bed big enough to fit me. And the best-stocked replicator they have. And a shower." I waggled my eyebrows at her until she laughed.
"Food first," she pushed me towards the waiting lift tube. "Then a nap."
"And then?" I followed her inside, wrapping my arms around her.
She stood on her toes, her lips against mine a promise. "Then, we'll see."
I wasn't the only one hungry. Almost before I got the door open, Kara had dashed to the replicator. "What do you want?" she called over her shoulder as she flipped through options.
"Anything." I tossed my jacket to the bed and eased into a low-slung chair, a choice I'd likely regret when I needed to get out of it, but it looked comfortable now. "Actually, anything with lots of protein."
I closed my eyes, must have drifted for a few minutes, because Kara stood beside the chair, stroking my forehead. "Dinner's ready," she said. "Want to come to the table, or try to eat here?"
I reached to lift her over the arm of the chair. "Ten more minutes," I answered, nestling her down onto my chest, wrapping my arms around her. "Promise I'll get up then."
"Sure you will." She kissed my cheek and threw one arm around my neck as she snuggled in. "Good thing I left the food in the warmer."
We hadn't opened the window seals when we came in, so I didn't know how long we slept, but it wasn't ten minutes. I ran through a quick self-diagnostic, flexing individual muscles, checking for residual pain and strain. Not one hundred percent yet, but closer than I would have expected.
Kara must have been just as exhausted, she'd rolled slightly so her face was buried in my shirt, but otherwise hadn't moved. I listened to her even breathing, her own calm spreading through me like a soothing balm.
Then a thought hit me, harder than one of Helmet Head's punches.
My arms must have tensed, because Kara p
ushed away from my chest to brush the sleep from her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"You can't come with me," I blurted.
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't answer, just wiggled off me and the chair and headed towards the corner with the table and the replicator.
"Come have lunch."
I pushed out of the chair, trailing her, the rest of my mind a whirl around the one, clear thing. "I'm sorry, but I can't take you. I'll get you money, get you and Bani and Artin and whoever you want passage anywhere you want, but-"
She placed covered bowls from the warmer on the table, arranged them just so, then went back for another plate. The only indication she'd heard me at all was the stiffness of her spine.
"You've obviously had your head hit too many times. You should eat."
When I didn't move, she sat. "I'm hungry, at least."
I sat down, uncovered my bowl. My stomach grumbled again at the spicy scent of the thick stew, but I just stared across the table, willing her to let me explain.
"I knew you were hungry. We probably should have gotten something in you before the nap. Who knows how much that healing takes out of you," she commented mildly, as she took a small bite. "Not bad, really." Her eyes flicked up, met mine, daring me to break the temporary illusion of normalcy.
"Um." My spoon hovered over the bowl, remembering lectures from shipboard. "A lot, actually. Doc had charts about what nutrients we needed to replace for each level of damage before our systems start cannibalizing themselves and making things worse. Usually, we just carry nutribars to keep stuff topped off until we get back to the medbay."
Kara blinked. Dammit, maybe that wasn't the right answer. I had no idea how to play this game.
She took a sip from her glass. Lips pursed, she put it down quickly.
"What's wrong?" I sniffed the orange stuff filling my own cup. Both sweet and tart, it was strange, but not unpleasant.
She looked at her glass sadly. "Orange juice. I couldn't believe they had it on the replicator menu. I had it once, and it was fantastic. I wanted you to try it."
I sipped my glass, cautiously. The taste was strong but good. But after a taste of the stew, I knew what was wrong.
"The juice is fine, it's great, actually." I went to the replicator and dialed up two glasses of red wine. I was going to need it. "It just doesn't go with the stew. It's not the right time for it."