by Elin Wyn
I didn’t fear the knives, or the shocks, or the torch.
The fear of telling them what they wanted to hear was far more terrible than anything they could do to me.
Zayda
Mack’s quiet groans woke me faster than any alarm. I reached for him in the dark, hoping that my hand on his shoulder would be enough to ease his sleep.
But this time the nightmare had dragged him deeper, its claws refusing to let him go.
I brushed the hair away from the sweat beading his forehead, his face clenched as his head whipped from side to side.
“Mack,” I whispered. “Come on, honey, come on back to me.”
But he couldn't hear me past whatever stalked him in his dreams. I straddled him, leaning over his chest to cup his face in both of my hands.
“Mack, it's Zayda. You're safe.” Not that safe meant much on Minor, especially considering what we were planning.
But I’d bet nearly anywhere was better than where he was trapped in his own head.
I leaned my chest against his, desperate now to find a way to reach him, when suddenly he snapped awake, sitting half upright, his arms wrapping around me, keeping my upright.
“Zayda,” he groaned and slumped back down, his face pressed into the crook of my neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Sorry about that, darlin,’” he muttered.
I moved to get off him, but his arms tightened around me. “Just give me a minute, all right? Sorry I screwed up your night.”
He rolled on his side, carrying me with him. I stroked his back, relieved that he was back with me, more frightened than I cared to admit.
“What is it?” I whispered. “Does this happen every night?”
“I don't remember,” his soft rumble against my skin was strained. “It's gone, fading like smoke when I wake. Someone wanted something, kept asking, demanding it…” He faded off. “I can’t give it to them, Zayda. I can’t.”
I pressed a kiss against the top of his head, still stroking the knotted muscles at the base of his neck.
Darkness, this wasn't the time, but just the feel of his arms around me, his warm spicy scent, brought the memory of our little show ‘distraction’ last night to the front of my brain. The sensation of his hands upon me, his chest crushing into my breasts sent a twinge of warmth to my core…
I would've sworn that I hadn't moved, hadn't given any sign of my arousal, but I felt him stiffen against me.
“Zayda,” Mack breathed against me, his voice sure and steady now. He licked at my neck and I moaned.
Like lightning, one of his hands cupped the back of my head, fingers knotting in my hair, bending my throat, opening and exposing me to his desires.
Every kiss, every nip, every touch dealt shattering blows against the wall of ice I'd wrapped around myself.
He rolled to his back, and once again I knelt above him. But this time, even in the darkness, I could sense his eyes fixed on mine, as tangible as his hands roaming my body.
He reached up, sliding his hand under the hem of my shirt, kneading strong fingers into the muscles on either side of my spine until I groaned in relief, stretching against him. Suddenly annoyed with all the extra fabric in the way of his hands, I pulled my tank off in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere, anywhere, just away.
“Stop. Just let me look at you,” he growled.
I leaned forward on his chest to drop a kiss on his chest. “Silly, you can't see me in the dark.”
Before the words had left my lips, he sat up, his hands spanned my hips, lifting my breast unerringly to his mouth.
I gasped as he licked around one aching bud, nipping at it lightly before he switched to the other.
“I could see you in the middle of the Black, Zayda. You shine for me.”
With his final words, he brought me back down, and through the thin fabric of my shorts I could feel the steel-hard length of him, straining against his pants.
Maddened, I couldn't help but grind just a bit against him. Sparks flew behind my eyes as his hands guided me, pulling me down harder, rubbing my clit up and down his length until I gasped.
Before I caught my breath, we had flipped again, Mack covering me, his elbows trapping me beneath him, but I didn't want to escape.
I ran my hands under his shirt, my nails down his back, and he hissed. “I never thought you were such an exhibitionist,” he whispered in my ear.
“What?” I gasped. I knew those words. I knew what they meant. But in a sentence, right now, I couldn't get them to make any sense.
I reached for him again, but this time he pinned my hands above my head. Holding me still.
His breath caressed my ear with every word. “If we keep going, you're going to scream. And I plan to have my hands busy doing things to you, so I can't promise to muffle the noise.”
His words, the promise and the threat of what he wanted to do, what I wanted him to do, forced another moan that I pressed against the skin of his shoulder.
“Jado's men are right on the other side of that curtain.” He kissed my neck, right below the ear. “Even if it kills me, we’re going to stop now.”
Awareness of our surroundings slowly seeped back into my consciousness. What had I been thinking?
“But Zayda,” he whispered, as he nuzzled my neck and I arched up, desperate to touch more of him. “Before we go our separate ways on Orem? I promise we’ll finish this.”
His lips brushed mine with the lightest of kisses, the gentle contrast to our heated grabbling even more explosive to my shredded nerves.
I felt the muscles in his chest ripple as he moved to shift off me and I could have wept at the loss of contact.
“Yes,” I murmured in agreement as I curled up on his shoulder. “I promise, too.”
“Ready for a busy day, darlin’?”
Stretching, I snuggled into his chest, until his words and my location dawned on me. I twitched out of Mack’s arms, frantically trying to recover my wits as I scooped up my tank top and scrambled into the privacy booth.
I leaned my head against the wall. Separate ways.
When I came out, I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m heading to the clinic early.” I pulled on my over-shirt, back turned to him. “Need to get those codes before Denon comes in.”
Mack’s large hands stroked my shoulders, and, despite myself, I leaned back into him. “I’ll come with you and then meet the others at the mess.” He pulled my hair out from inside my collar, smoothed it down. “Don’t go anywhere alone.” Mack turned me, caught me in his gaze. “Please, Zayda.” His lip quirked up. “If nothing else, for the sake of the plan.”
“For the plan.”
At the door to the clinic, Mack gave my hand a final squeeze. “I'll be back at end of shift.”
I knew there was no arguing with the determination writ large across his face.
“For the plan,” I teased and headed inside.
To my surprise, Denon had spent the night with the burned patient, pulling his desk chair, not particularly comfortable but better than the other half-broken one, next to the cot.
The wounds were healing well. I made a surreptitious inventory of the oxygen tanks left. Despite the plan, I certainly didn't intend to interfere with the patient's treatment.
But my memory had been correct, there were plenty, even if we had another ten accidents before resupplying.
When I moved to check the levels of the current tank, Denon jerked awake.
I couldn't tell. Was the surprise in his eyes merely startlement at being awakened, or had he expected me to already be gone?
For a moment I doubted myself. What if those messages weren't anything about me? Certainly I wasn't the only person of interest to the governor on Minor that could be considered a bitch. Even I wasn't that cocky.
But the timestamps lined up so neatly.
The plan, Zayda. You have a plan, stick to the plan.
“Denon, if you've been here all night, take a break. I've got day shift covered.”
<
br /> He did his own check of the wounds and seemed satisfied. Maybe I had been wrong; he wasn't a great medic, but he did seem to care.
He rubbed his face with his hands. “Maybe at least to get down to the mess.” He gave a long yawn. “Or maybe I’ll crash for the morning.” He stood, stretched. “I’ll be back, at some point.”
He headed out and my shoulders sank with relief. Not knowing the time of his return was a slight complication, but even having him out of the way for a little bit gave me a chance to get into that comm.
The file was right where it had been; obviously Denon hadn't noticed my earlier intrusion.
Good. After the incident on Orem, I’d begun doubting my own skills. As much as I hated to admit it, maybe I hadn’t been betrayed. Maybe I’d set off some sort of alarm when I’d found the files. I forced the familiar spiral of my thoughts away. This wasn’t the time.
Next step. There was no printer in the room. To manually transcribe all of the control codes for the cuffs would take considerable time, time I didn't know if I had.
But after we escaped, someone might start looking more closely at the access logs on this comm. Just writing the path down for Jado's electronics expert was risky - no way to be sure they wouldn’t be moved.
I hated doing it, but there was nothing to be done except buckle down and start writing. I perched on the half-broken chair, swearing as it tilted beneath me. In frustration, I pushed it away and dragged Denon’s chair over.
My eye caught on a black rectangle lying half under the cot.
A dummy tablet. Lots were scattered around the satellite, used as trade goods for favors, or drinks at the bar. They could receive, but not send.
And that was all I needed.
By midmorning, a steady stream of visitors to our patient arrived. Several I recognized as having been in yesterday, but I was surprised when a small, dark, pudgy man came up to where I was doing the daily inventory of medications.
“Thanks for looking after,” the man paused and I realized he didn't know the patient's name. “Anyhow, anything I can do for you?”
He raised his eyebrows at my blank expression and then scratched his neck, drawing my eyes to the dark mark there.
The Skulls. Of course.
I glanced over to the inventory of slender oxygen tanks and flashed two fingers. Whatever this guy had been on the outside, he was quick on the uptake.
“You want me to move any of those empties out to the loading dock for the shuttle tomorrow? May as well get ,’em while I’m up here.”
“I appreciate it,” and we loaded up two more of the suddenly helpful visitors with empty oxy tanks - and two completely full ones.
As they loaded up, I slipped two of the thin hyperbaric balloons into the man’s jacket.
And after that, all I could do was wait.
The hours slipped by, and Denon returned. “Zayda, go on. You may as well take a break.”
I glanced at the chrono. Still hours before Mack’s shift would end. “Nowhere to go,” I shrugged. “Not exactly like I can take a walk.” I slid the loaded tablet under my hand. Denon eyed it, and I scrambled, my words spilling from my lips before I thought it through.
“I thought I might read to him for a bit,” I gestured to the patient. “I know he’s pretty far under, but I figured it can’t hurt.”
His face relaxed. “Sure, good idea.” After a few minutes of my toneless recital of the latest thriller, Denon logged out of his comm. “I’m going to get some more rack time.” He paused by the door, an odd note in his voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Of course,” I answered blandly. “Where else would I go?”
Mack
At the compost pit, my two workmates from yesterday shooed me away. “Jado sent the word down, someone's gonna come and cover for you. You’re needed on another project,” the bald one said as he pulled on the work coveralls.
I fought my growl of irritation down. I didn’t like not knowing what was going on, being sent from one section of the satellite to another.
But Jado had the resources that we needed right now, even if the control codes that we offered him would be more than a fair exchange.
Besides, I really hadn’t been looking forward to getting into that mess again.
By the time I followed their directions, I ended up at a door at the end of a series of store rooms, guarded by yet another of the Skulls.
He eyed me and then stepped aside. “Jado said you were big, that I’d know you on sight. He was right.”
Inside, an older man with the dark, toughened skin of someone who's spent most of his life planetside or somewhere with a high radiation count, came over and measured me.
“It's going to be a tight fit, son,” he said as he turned back to his work.
“I’ll manage. What can I do to help?”
“You know how to handle tools?” he asked, his doubt made friendlier by the slight smile on his face.
“Not at all. But if you need stuff lifted, moved, or held in place, I'm your man.”
“That’s always useful. Come on, we’ve got lots of work to do, and not much time to do it.”
The day wore on endlessly. I couldn't believe how much time and care could be spent on constructing what was basically a long, hollow box.
The craftsman, Elsu, grinned at my obvious frustration. “Gotta make sure the weight balances. We don't know how the grow racks are unloaded on the other end. They might run over a scale, double-check that we’re not shorting them. Never know, best to be sure and careful.”
“My apologies, I'm just anxious.” I hefted the next panel he pointed at and brought it over for him to shape.
“Don't blame you for getting nervy. You’re taking a helluva risk.”
“No more than the rest of you.” A twinge of conscience struck. “Jado decided to put everyone at risk, didn't he, when he agreed to help us. Do you resent him for it?”
Elsu laughed. “Jado knows damn well we'd all kill for a fighting chance to be free. Die for it, if it came down to it.” He made another cut, then carefully beveled the edge. “Rather not, of course.”
Our work was interrupted by a group of men carrying an assortment of long, thin tanks.
A pudgy, dark-haired man nodded at the pile of tanks, then looked at me. “Your old lady’s pretty smart. You keep her safe, and I’d lay money on her doing the same for you.”
“I plan to.” Thoughts of Zayda brought the memory of her skin under my hands to mind. Not the time or place, but the stray thought from last night re-crossed my mind.
“Hey, where would I find the laundry?”
Elsu looked up, bemused. “What, need an emergency load of dress uniforms pressed before you go?”
I shook out my jacket hem. “Nope, wouldn’t know how to wear them. Just need to talk to a guy.”
He stayed silent, waiting.
“Do you know Gozer?”
He whistled. “Son, he’s got more wires loose than an old jump drive. Everyone knows Gozer.”
“Maybe he’s a little jumpy,” I argued, “but he means well.”
“Never said he didn’t.” The old man went back to his work, no doubt expecting me to do the same.
Worry struck. “Anyone give Gozer a hard time in here? I can’t see him fighting back much.”
“Nah.” The welder handed me a sheet of permasteel to move to the other table. “Bad luck to mess with people like that. Need all the luck you can get up here.” He stood and stretched shoulders that must have been stiff from a day of being hunched over. “Look, we’ll get a message to him, if you think he’s going to be worried about you. But I need you here, helping. Priorities, son.”
I nodded, and got the next section of the rebuilt rack to be adjusted.
Priorities.
Elsu cut me loose shortly before the end of the day shift. “More help than I thought you’d be, to be honest.”
I’d climbed in and out of the coffin-like enclosure throughout the day, ch
ecking the hidden latches, estimating the space Zayda would need curled beside me.
He tilted his head to the door, eyes still focused on one fine piece of work. “But you’re edgy now, and it’ll throw me off. Go get her, and save us both a headache.”
“Thanks.” I stopped by the door. It seemed such a measly word to offer, but I didn’t have anything else. I went to get Zayda. Priorities.
She waited for me just inside the clinic door, obviously anxious to get out.
“I hate that place,” she muttered as we headed down the hall towards the mess. “It's like a prison inside the prison.” She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Denon's acting weird. He knows something is going on, but I can't tell if he's heard about what we’re planning, or if he's just waiting for the ghosts to come get me.”
The thought hit me in the gut and for a flash I wanted nothing more than to crush the spine of the man who would have happily handed Zayda over to those monsters.
I knew what they could do, I knew what they did do. And...
I stumbled in the hallway. No, I didn't, did I?
“You okay?” Zayda asked, her hand under my arm as if she could support me.
“A long day finding out I am not meant to be a welder, that's all,” I joked, trying to put the eerie feeling behind me.
Before we turned the corner to the mess hall, Zayda stopped me.
“Here, hold this.” She slipped me a dummy tablet like the man in the dorms had been reading. “It has all the information Jado’s genius will need to take control of the station.”
“Then why are you giving it to me?”
“Because if anybody tries to give us any trouble, they’re a hell of a lot less likely to find it on you.” She reached inside the sleeve of her jacket, pulling out a handful of small flat clips. “Turn around.”
Zayda folded up the hem of my undershirt and secured it into a pocket with the clips, pulling and tugging to test its security.
“Suture clips,” she explained. “There. With your jacket back down, I can't even see where the tablet is against your back.” She squeezed my arm. “Not so great for hiding in small spaces, but you’re handy to have around.”