Galina moaned softly. Adry was going to have to ask for the unthinkable.
“I’m going to lose her.” She said, shaking. “He hit an artery. She’s bleeding out.”
“That man,” Galina said, then her eyes fluttered closed.
The alien with Bryan’s face took a deep, ragged breath. It—no. He was holding his left side, blue-black blood running between his fingers. And she didn’t like the look on his face. Not the hungry glare she’d expected from a wounded Overseer. More like a man trying desperately not to pass out. More like what she felt. “How much…do you trust me?” he asked.
That awful, breathy voice. Now it sounded like a leaking balloon. The same thing that takes life can give it, under the right circumstances. She nodded. “We are right in the middle of the infection zone. Be very careful.”
He smiled, then bared sharp and terrible teeth. But with his eyes—even four horrible alien eyes—in view, she could understand. Not a sneer. A grimace of pain. He moved to Galina without most of the grace he’d had before. She supposed that, too, had been a mask, hiding some weakness from challenging eyes. Sweat ran down the sides of his face. He did not bother moving Galina, just placed his terrible hand over her wound.
It was quiet, save for his ragged breathing, Galina’s moans, and the whisper of the swamp. Adry’s hands itched to be suturing veins, putting pieces of bone back together. She could only sit here and watch as a monster with her lover’s face did something inscrutable to a dying woman’s arm.
Then, finally, he withdrew, falling backwards to the marshy ground. But a small glimmer of old humor came back into his eyes. He held up the bullet, nematocyst teeth still clinging to it. “We can move her. I would recommend the village, but—”
“It’s the last place someone with a paper cut should be, let alone a gunshot wound.” She checked the injury. Something like a silver thread held the wound together, and it wasn’t gushing anymore. Good enough, for now. “We’ll go back to the outpost.” She looked back at Bryan. The flow of blood from his side had not slowed in the least. “How badly are you hurt?”
“It will heal,” he said, which wasn’t an answer at all. He scooped up Galina as if she weighed nothing, cradled her against his chest. The old woman moaned, but remained unconscious. Adry stood frozen a heartbeat more, unable to process what she knew was true.
“Bryan?” She called, after the retreating back. The word in itself was a question. A sob. A scream, held in check for six awful months by bitten knuckles and trails of blood. And the monster turned. Light illuminated the curve of his cheek, the sharp ridge of his brow. Four eyes met her two, white and strange and familiar and infinitely sad.
Then he turned back to the path and kept walking.
*****
Then:
“Okay. Bryan’s enzyme works with Dr. Parker’s alterations.” Shawn Miller shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“All I did was move a few protean chains around. Bryan identified the basic issue here. He’s the one that did it.” Adrienne said, insistently.
Shawn shrugged. “So what? It works. Now we have to figure out what to do with it.”
“Distribution.” Bob Harris shrugged. “Offer it to Gaga and New Houston, hell, even our contacts on Foster, in exchange for trade. We need to rebuild our base, sir.” He sighed. “I like the mobile idea same as you, but moving or not, we need supplies. We need drive cores. We need…we need everything. This could be our leverage to get it.”
“We can’t just throw it around,” Adry said, unwilling. Throwing it around was exactly what she wanted to do. “If the Overseers find a way around the enzyme—”
“Why would they do that?” Bob said. “They get to take as much as they want from us and we don’t die in the process. We’ve turned ourselves into the eternal rib eye steak, Adry. Why not throw it around like candy?”
“We don’t know what the long term side effects will be. What it’ll do to them, what it’ll do to us. And hell, maybe they’ll decide the enzyme turns us into tofu and they want real food. My point is, if we get dependent on the enzyme for protection and the Overseers route around it, it’ll be a disaster. We’re going to have to do everything we can to keep it out of their hands.”
“But it’s not like a vaccine, Adrienne. It only lasts six hours. We have to give people enough to stockpile, give our guys enough to make it through a two or three day mission, or God forbid a POW situation. We need it. A lot of it. And we need it now,” Harris said.
Both of them looked to Shawn, who sighed. “Both your concerns are valid. We need it in huge quantities, and we need it to stay as far away from the Overseers as we can possibly get. And that means we’re going to have to make compromises neither of us will like. I’m sorry, kids. I don’t have an answer for you.
“We’re going to have to play this next part by ear.”
*****
Now:
Sterile field, sterile bandages, sterile tools. Adry cut the “threads” holding Galina’s wound closed and went to work. After a few quiet minutes, she felt grudging admiration. A rush job, sure. The “stitching” on the artery was leaking ever so slightly, and a few fragments of bone had been missed and needed to be excised. That said, whatever the Over—No. She swallowed, making sure the scalpel didn’t do more damage in her suddenly shaking hands. Whatever Bryan had done was good. He’d saved Galina’s life, and the pieces of shattered bone bound together were in something near enough to the right order. If she could get her hands on a dose of modern quick heal, a couple missing bone shards wouldn’t matter. As long as the pieces were in the same room… she flushed the wound to ensure no hitchhikers could grow inside the wound, gave Galina a dose of Amenoperithol, as well as a broad spectrum antibiotic, just in case, and then sewed everything back up. Thanks to the solid foundation of Bryan’s work, she wouldn’t even need a cast.
He could have drained Galina. Wounded and unhealing, he could probably have used the energy. And he hadn’t.
Still, Mich had probably crippled her. Goddamn him. She stripped off her gloves, scrubbed her hands, and donned a fresh pair. One more patient to examine. This wouldn’t be easy.
He half-sat, half crumpled against a bench as far from the operation as he could get, awful hands resting on his knees, palms down. The light was still human level bright, and she could argue that his eyes were closed against it. But blood glimmered on his black jacket, on the floor beneath him, and on the corners of his mouth. Not a good sign. It could mean perforated lungs. For the first time she was actively thankful Overseers did not have a functional digestive system, because the thought of intestinal enzymes and bacteria making havoc in his guts made her own feel like water. At least the bleed had slowed to an ooze, but that still wasn’t good. He’d healed nearly immediately back on Marel Sanders. Something inside him was going wrong.
She set a tray of sterilized tools beside him. “Take off your coat.” She said.
One eye opened and looked up at her. “It will heal.” He whispered.
She hesitated, considering the small number of pain killers on hand. The large number of ways she could die. It was Bryan’s face. Buried under all of it, it was still Bryan’s face. “You’re bleeding internally and…” she swallowed. “You’re not healing fast enough. So take off that goddamned jacket before I do it for you.”
All four eyes opened. He hissed, steam escaping a kettle, and he tried to look intimidating and scary. He really did. It was almost cute, she thought hysterically. But he didn’t have it in him, really. Slowly, painfully, he eased back onto the bench. Double thumbed hands worked the hidden catches of his coat. That must be really efficient. Certainly, it would make movie reviews easier. Flippancy kept her from screaming, she guessed. It died cold when the coat was finally off.
He wore nothing beneath it. Her stomach sank like she were in free fall. With the coat, the being before her was an Overseer. Aggressive, scary, a predator that could snap her neck like a pencil, one handed! Without the coat, Brya
n was a holocaust victim. Xylophone bones stretched pearlescent alien skin tight. No fat. Barely any muscle structure. The bullet hole in his side was almost secondary to the wasted state of his body. No wonder he wasn’t healing. He didn’t have the energy to spare.
“Jesus, Bryan.” She whispered. “Jesus Christ.”
“I will take the bullet out. I just need to catch my breath.” He coughed, weakly, and the blood on his lips increased.
“What the hell happened to you?” She whispered, brushing the smooth, cold flesh on his chest. What precious little there was of it. The only heat in him was around the wound.
“I don’t…” cough, “I don’t remember.”
“You’re…” she trailed off, the word catching in her throat.
“Starving?” His lips quirked sardonically. He started to laugh…and then convulsed, hissing. The human traces in his face vanished and her own pulse quickened. She backed up and stayed out of arm’s reach until Bryan relaxed. He didn’t seem to notice. “The alternative is unacceptable. But in the morning I will…return to the village.”
And feed, she filled in. “What about all those trips you were making? Weren’t you…” her gorge rose in disgust.
“No,” he whispered.
“Bryan…why are you doing this? Why kidnap me? Why…the village…We would have taken you in, done whatever we could to...”
“Who are ‘we?’” White eyes fixed hers, cold and intense, frightened and full of pain that had nothing to do with starvation. “Who are you? I don’t remember.” Eyes closed, a shiver wracked his body. “I only know that I—” cough, “--should.” The blue-black blood now coated his lips. His eyes darted down to his hands, which he turned palms up and rested on his knees. “I killed four people before I remembered that might be wrong.”
He looked so lost. Sick and…oh, god, dying. Her choice was made before she realized she even had a choice. Because he was there. He was right there in front of her, and she wasn’t going to fail again. “Bryan,” she said, her voice a little harder. Her own slender fingers found the buttons on her shirt. “What…do you need to…” swallow. It felt like all the pressure in the world was caught behind her throat. She could barely find the buttons, she was shaking so hard “…to feed?”
“No.” The wild panic in his eyes matched hers. “I will take care of my…needs tomorrow.”
“I don’t think you have tomorrow. Hell, if you were anyone else I’d have you on a bed next to Galina. Strapped down, if I had to.”
“For what?” laughter, and then another low hiss of pain.
“Malnutrition. You’re skin and bones. Also, you have a bleeding hole in your gut that may have punctured a lung.”
“My biology—”
“Is obviously susceptible to shock. You’re pegging off every warning signal I have.” Her voice quavered, but the hands removing her blouse were steady. “And I’m not going to watch you die if there’s something I can do about it.”
“Why?” his eyes searched her face. “You’re terrified of this. It isn’t necessary.”
“Because I lost you once already. Twice while I’m watching is too much to take.”
His entire attitude shifted. He hissed again, low and long. Probably what an Overseer did when it was told something it did not want to hear. She reached to examine the wound, and he caught both her wrists, preventing her from touching him properly. She felt the mouths on his hands grip her skin eagerly, the light prickle of hungry nematocyst teeth.
“It’s completely voluntary.” He whispered. “I won’t if I don’t want to. And I will not. Ever. Not to you.” He let her go.
She picked up a vial of enzyme and an applicator. The needle slid into her skin, and the chemical burn was like a bee sting. “Why not me, if you don’t remember?”
“Your face is my first memory. You are in every shadow. What little I remember of…before…is you. And my universe is…brighter…when you are here.”
“Bryan—”
“It feels good, do you understand? To be full of…life. Not wanting. Not hungry. It’s unforgivable. Especially with you.”
He was getting scary again. She needed to do this and get it over with. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You never found me.” He whispered.
She picked up his hand, swallowed, and pressed his grip against her chest. The organ on his palm was hot, intense.
“I will.” It was an oath. “I will find you. I do whatever it takes. I owe you.” She whispered. Alien eyes focused on hers, heavy with pain. “And I love you.” Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Please.”
He straightened, moving so that her back was supported by the low bench, his weight heavy against her body. The nematocysts prickled against her skin. “It will hurt. You cannot imagine how much it will hurt.”
“Just do it and get it over with.” She whispered.
He closed his eyes, turning his terrible face away. And she discovered something she hadn’t known before. Overseers wept. She touched the tears, the strange, soft skin on his cheeks glossy. It was like touching the chrome sides of a long lost room, if that metal were made alive. Before she could check the impulse, she leaned forward, heart pounding, pressing his awful hand deeper into her chest, and kissed him on the cheek.
He made a low keening sound, something no human could make, something that would break any heart in two.
And then it felt as if her chest exploded.
*****
Then:
Laughter and light spilled around them, the soft thickness of the grass cradled them, and Adrienne smiled. Okay, so the light was canned, the grass was the perfect, genetically engineered stuff that never needed cutting, and there were no clouds or blue sky (or real sun) over their head. Still, one of Bryan’s picnics was worth it. How he always found the one abandoned place on the concourse…
“One day,” she said, tracing circles on his shirt front. “I’m going to take you home. To New York. We’ll visit the space needles, I’ll take you to Central Park.”
“Don’t you have to pay to get in there?” He asked, tracing circles on her neckline. He really did have this thing for writing on her. Like he was marking territory or something.
“I’ve got the admission fee. Just think. Real grass. Real sunshine. Ants!” She laughed.
“Birds. Bird shit. Vagrants. Unpredictability.” He set the pen down and kissed her, longer and longer, his tongue exploring her distant galaxies. She reciprocated, invading his sacred territories. Fingers found nebulas and star clusters and sweat ran down her skin. He pushed back from her, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
“What?”
“Screw my brother. Screw Holton. Screw this goddamned war. I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you.”
“I had you at hello?”
“Much sooner.” Then he laughed, bending gently over her. His hair tickled her body. “God.” He pushed it back out of his eyes. “We’re so cheesy, aren’t we?”
“I like cheese.” She smiled wickedly and licked his shoulder. “Cheddar.” Kissed him, long and sweet on the mouth. “Brie.”
Things only got better from there.
*****
Now:
When Adry raised her head, she was alone. An Overseer version of an IV was hooked into her arm, pillow tucked under her head and the shawl gently laid over her shoulders. Galina and Bryan were gone.
Panic, sheer and stark. Standing, her head spinning, she looked for some sign, some clue to where the others had gone. Galina shouldn’t be moving at all, and Bryan…oh, God. Her knees buckled as memory hit like a meteor.
The memories are there. They just can’t access them. Paige’s words an eternity ago. He knew who she was. He knew who he was. But he didn’t know the details. That he had resources, friends, a place to go…it must be hell inside his head. And if she were in his shoes, she’d be running as fast as a starship could take her. She braced herself on the central console. He’d been sitting here for all
this time, her hating him with every fiber of her being…and he could read her mind. Oh, Jesus. Oh dear God in heaven, what he must think!
“No, no, no. Back on bed, back on bed.” Galina appeared in the doorway, as if she’d just come from the lavatory. “He told me you are not to stand.”
“I’m fine.” She put a hand to her chest and felt violated skin burn. She expected some horror of raw meat where he’d fed. Instead there was a deep rash, tiny punctures where her life had been…removed…she turned hastily and vomited into the nearest container. There wasn’t much to bring up. Galina held her head until the retching was done. “I guess you’re used to seeing this,” she said weakly.
“Stubborn.” The old woman was angry. “Stubborn men, stubborn women. He is most stubborn of all. All things need to live. I understand this, so I agree to trade. Water and bandages and life for us, life for him as well. But—fool!--he has not taken what he has traded for in weeks.” Sharp blue eyes turned sly. “You know him. When you saw him without his mask, you put your life up for his taking, same as we put ours.”
Adry didn’t answer. “Why do your people do it? It can’t just be for antibiotics and a water purification system.”
Galina sat, her arm in a sling. “Russia claimed four planets for theirs, but did not have people willing to go. You are American. Young country. Is not heavy for you to leave. But my mother’s grandmother was born in Orenburg, was baptized in church where six generations of family were buried. We are told to go, we go. But Russia is in our blood, still.
“Those that stay think nothing of those that leave. They tell us go, and they do not give us clean water. They do not give us medicine. We have food and drink and vodka, but no wealth. The Overseers come, they take half our village. We lose people. The military come, they take our medicine. We lose more people. We are for whoever wants us, but no one does. We die. Then this one come, and promise us safety, and we do not believe. But what do we do, except lose more people, more medicine? More of what makes us who we are? We trade. He gives us clean water. He brings us new seeds. He tells us when the others come, so we can hide. We have balance. We can live with this.” She was silent. “You called him by a human name. I hear, when I am sick.”
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