by Sara Rustan
“Well, it worked didn’t it?”
“The makeover, sure, that was a good idea. But pushing him into having sex with somebody else? Hell, girl. You love the man. It’s like you were trying to hurt yourself before he could get around to it, and that’s just nuts.”
Totally and completely against her will, Jolie burst into tears, wrenching sobs that came from deep inside.
“Oh, damn,” Malia said, and wrapped her arms around her. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m just an idiot.”
Jolie’s crying gradually subsided. She took one last deep breath and slumped into her seat, fumbling for tissues to wipe her face. “No, you’re right. It was a stupid plan. And being with Genj was just more stupidity. It didn’t make me feel better, it made me feel worse. He wasn’t Thorgan. After intensely mediocre sex with those old boyfriends, with Thorgan it was…wonderful. I thought it was something I had learned to do, that I could have it with anybody.” She rubbed her eyes. “I was wrong.”
Malia nodded. “Yeah, it’s all about the person. Though why you had to pick such a dense, chauvinist –”
“He’s not dense,” Jolie interrupted, then smiled sheepishly. “At least most of the time. And a lot of that attitude is like…like a game that he plays. He likes to tease.”
“Well, better you than me, girlfriend. But what are you going to do now?”
Jolie rested her head on her hands. “I don’t know. I’ve screwed everything up. It will kill me to watch Thorgan run through all the groupies at Body Extensions.” She turned to the computer controls and tapped the screen on. “Where’s the job list? Maybe I’ll request a transfer to some moon in the next sector.”
Malia groaned. “How did you ever graduate from medical school? Or did that big lummox really fuck your brains out? Because you’re not thinking very rationally right now.” She spoke very slowly and clearly. “You want Thorgan. Thorgan is here. You need to stay here. Got it?”
“But…but…”
“Give it at least a couple of weeks. You only met each other ten days ago, right?”
Jolie shrugged. “You know that.”
“He hasn’t even had a chance to get used to the idea that he wants you. Maybe he’s a little slow. He is a man, after all. Give him a little time before you write him off. In fact, I want you to promise me you won’t make any life-altering decisions for at least two weeks. Okay?” Malia looked sternly at Jolie and waited for a response.
Jolie slumped in her chair and sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. Do you promise?”
“Oh, all right. Two weeks.” Surely she could live through two weeks.
* * * * *
The FIA’s exercise facility was top-notch, filled with all possible tools to test and exercise Thorgan’s computer-enhanced reflexes and perceptions. He couldn’t get release with Jolie, so he might as well work himself into the ground. He started with the basic weight machines, moved on to the sparring exercisers, then the weapons sims.
Then for a more motivational experience, he turned off the safety features and set the weapons to actual damage. Sure, it wouldn’t really hurt him. They didn’t put those sims out for just any wacko to come in and knock himself off. At least, they didn’t in the Union, and from the options available on the room setup screen, the Federation was on the same wavelength.
Government bureaucracies had a lot in common no matter where you found them. Didn’t matter whether they were in favor of individual rights and open markets like the Federation, or for regimented safety nets and government assigned jobs like the Union. They still weren’t going to give you the opportunity to off yourself in their facilities.
Not that he wanted to do that, anyway. But he wanted the buzz that edge of danger would give him. He was working off some serious frustration here. So he dialed up the risk as high as it would go and turned on the “individual firefight” training sim.
After five minutes of vigorous rolling and sliding and ducking and shooting holograph enemies hiding behind holograph bushes, he was just starting to get to the point of feeling challenged, when some bozo entered the room and slapped the emergency halt sensor.
He swung around to give the idiot a piece of his mind, and pulled up short when he realized that the idiot was Welther. So instead he just stood there, breathing hard and glaring. “Hey, what’s the idea? I was in the middle of something here.”
Welther touched the door-close sensor, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall. “I need to talk to you. About Jolie.”
Dammit, the woman wouldn’t have sex with him and was making his life miserable, and now her friends were getting on his case, too. He narrowed his eyes. “What about Jolie?”
“You took advantage of her. You forced her to have sex with you for signing the FIA contract. You hurt her.” Welther’s voice was tight and hard.
“Is that what she said? Because if she did –”
“No, she didn’t say that…exactly.” Welther hesitated. “But you can’t deny that you said you wouldn’t sign unless she had sex with you.”
“Dammit, I didn’t really mean it. The woman obviously had the hots for me, so I figured I’d make it easy for her to do what she wanted to do anyway.” He blew out in frustration. “I would have signed even if she said no.”
Welther raised an eyebrow. “But she didn’t know that, did she?”
Thorgan bit his lip.
“Well? Did she?”
Thorgan turned away and grabbed the towel hanging on a hook. “No. She didn’t realize that.”
Welther moved closer, a bit too close.
Thorgan resisted the urge to step back.
“But that’s not the biggest problem.” He leaned even closer, resting his hand on the wall behind Thorgan. “What the blazing hell are you doing sleeping with other women with a woman like Jolie around? Do you realize what that’s doing to her?”
Thorgan stood up to maximum height and glared at Welther. “I told her it was just short term. I never, ever lied to her.” He looked to the side and his voice dropped. “Besides…she doesn’t want me now, anyway.”
Welther looked at him in disgust. “I guess your brains – no, let’s make that your emotions – have rotted from being stuck out in the middle of space for too long. Of course she’s not going to be one of a crowd of women you’re sleeping with.” He stepped back and drew a deep breath. “You know, I think that little…problem…the Union foisted on you arrested your development. But it’s time to grow up now. You’re not an eighteen-year-old who’s just discovered sex and wants to get his score as high as possible anymore.” Shaking his head, he moved to the room’s exit, and looked back at Thorgan. “Tell me one thing. How did sex with Chane compare with sex with Jolie?”
Thorgan flushed. “It’s none of your damn business.”
Welther nodded. “Well, just imagine the next few months filled with that – and compare it with spending that time with Jolie.” He narrowed his eyes. “And remember that if you do anything – and I mean anything – to hurt Jolie, I’ll take you apart piece by piece.”
Thorgan growled, “Well, Welther, if you think so highly of her, why aren’t you with her yourself?”
Welther’s face blanched. “I wish, I really, really wish it was me she loved.” He clenched his fists, then stalked to the exit. Without looking at Thorgan, he snarled, “You’ve been warned,” and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Thorgan slumped against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. Did Jolie love him?
The blood rushed away from his head, and he rested it against his knees. Maybe Welther was right. He’d been playing in the minor leagues, thinking only about his score, while she’d been in a whole different league.
Dammit. He was going to have to spend some serious time thinking about women and sex and relationships – and it was so much frigging work.
Chapter Nine
Jolie went home early. FIA owed her time anyway. Hell, t
hey owed her a lot more than time. They owed her a cyborg boyfriend. She snickered, wondering what Micky in procurement would say if she put that on a requisition. With her luck, she’d probably get referred to some headshrink.
When she stepped into her apartment, she immediately wished that she had gone somewhere else. The place was too empty and quiet. The pictures that she had carefully selected now looked bland and meaningless; the furniture was conventional and uncreative. She breathed hard, trying to relax the tightness in her chest, and acknowledging that the real problem with the place was that Thorgan wasn’t in it.
Despite the fact that he could be so blind and macho sometimes, she felt alive around him – even if it was the kind of alive that made sticking your finger in a power socket look like a good deal.
Damn, damn, damn. She had to stop thinking about the big oaf.
Restlessly, she wandered to the window overlooking the courtyard in the middle of the complex. It was a small private park, with trees and carefully designed pools and a waterfall, and benches suitable for reading. If it wasn’t for the danger of being interrupted by random members of the complex, it would have been a good place for her now. Busy. She needed to find something to keep herself busy. And her thoughts off you-know-who.
She was always complaining that there wasn’t enough time to organize and clean. The truth was that there was plenty of time – she just didn’t like doing it. So this was an ideal time to take care of that bedroom closet. It was what she deserved for being so damn silly as to get stuck on that… you know. That person she wasn’t thinking about.
She grimly opened the closet and the carefully stacked pile of papers and boxes slid down onto the floor. Okay. This was a good thing. Now she had to do something with all of it.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she started making piles in a circle all around her. Things to throw out there; things to keep here; things she couldn’t decide about in front…
She was about half through sorting the big pile, when she heard a soft “snick” from the living room. Was that the door? She had closed it, hadn’t she? Frowning, she headed for the living room and stepped from the hallway into the central space. An arm grabbed her around the waist, and a hand was pressed over her mouth.
Panicked, she struggled and thrashed, trying to get her leg up for a kick, but the person holding her was too strong. In fact, her struggles had no effect on him whatsoever. With this kind of strength, this must be a cyborg. She stopped moving. “Who are you?” she tried to ask, but the words were hardly comprehensible through that immovable hand.
Could this be one of her patients? A patron of Body Extensions turned stalker? A burglar interrupted by her unexpected afternoon off?
There was no response from her captor, but after a flurry of disorienting motion, she found herself slumped on her couch, that beige, bland, overly conventional piece of furniture she had glowered at earlier.
The cyborg standing in front of her, stone-faced, was nobody she remembered seeing before. Of course, she probably didn’t remember everybody she’d ever been in contact with. His hair was black and short, and his shirt was more roughly shaped than usual. No, this wasn’t somebody from Body Extensions. Nobody from there would be caught dead dressed in that badly shaped uniform.
Mr. Stoneface snapped in a low voice, “Where is he?”
She blinked. “Who?”
“Don’t try to lie to me. The cyborg you stole.”
Everything came together in a flash. This had to be a Union agent, looking for Thorgan. “Stole?” She shook her head. “I’m a cyborg doctor. I don’t steal them, I treat them,” she said patiently.
“Don’t play games with me.” He glared. “I can crush you with one hand. Tell me where Thorgan D’Emry is.”
It struck her that she could probably answer this question without doing any particular harm. It seemed like a better idea to say something than refuse completely. She examined him for weapons, but had no idea if the bulge under his arm and the similar one in his right pocket qualified. It’s not like he needed weapons, with the military mods she was sure that he had. “Oh, Thorgan. He should be at FIA headquarters down on Jurnalia Street
. Would you like directions?” She fluttered her eyelashes in a pretense of helpfulness. “Are you a friend of his?”
“Shut up.” His voice was rough. He also looked as though he wasn’t sure what to do next.
She shook her head. What was the Union thinking to send such an idiot after Thorgan? This was the sort of low-wattage cyborg that gave cyborgs a bad rep.
Stoneface touched a spot on his belt – a communicator, no doubt.
A disembodied voice spoke. “Status?”
“Target isn’t at this location. The woman who piloted the ship is here. What shall I do now?”
She could hear the impatience in the voice when it answered. “Have her call the cyborg and ask him to come to her residence. Capture the cyborg when he arrives. Kill her if she gives you any trouble.”
Oookay. That let her know what the stakes were here. Her stomach was feeling queasy as it sank in that she might not get out of this alive.
Mr. Dolt Stoneface turned to her, pulled out a stun gun, and aimed it at her. “Call Thorgan D’Emry. Ask him to come here. Don’t tell him anything, or try to give him clues that I’m here, or I’ll shoot you.”
She unhooked the communicator button from her belt, tapped Thorgan’s shortcut, and waited a few seconds for him to respond.
“Jolie, what’s up?”
“Hey, Thorgan, remember what I said earlier about wanting to get together for a quickie soon? How about right now? You up for some afternoon delight?”
Dead silence, then a cautious voice. “Jolie? Is that you?”
“I’m right in the middle of something now. A light is flashing that I need to take care of. How soon can you get here?” She sure hoped she wasn’t overestimating the stupidity of Stoneface, because anybody with two neurons to rub together would probably have picked up that there was some serious subtext in that message. He was glaring at her and taking a step closer, but she was still alive, so her guess was that that second neuron was definitely missing in action.
Thorgan’s voice was calm, but she knew him well enough to detect the underlying tension. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable?”
“I’m at 718 Theremin Group. I’ll be looking forward to your arrival.” She pretended to tap the communicator to turn it off, then turned to Stoneface and said loudly, “Did you follow us from the Penthian system?”
“Shut up, bitch.” He reached to grab her communicator.
Handing it to him palm down, she turned it off with her thumb, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
Now that Thorgan was on his way, Stoneface no longer needed to keep her alive. Her heart thudded in her chest. She had to distract him enough to make him forget that.
* * * * *
Thorgan had been exploring the city on foot, thinking about himself and Jolie, when she had called. He heard Jolie’s question about following them from the Penthian systems, and the connection to her communicator clicked off. Jolie was in danger, life-threatening danger, and it was because of him. He felt adrenaline flood his body, and turned on full-battle cyborg mode.
He might have only minutes to rescue her. Every second counted. He turned into a cyborg pillar, letting pedestrian traffic flow around him, as he pulled up a visual display of the local map with Jolie’s location pinpointed.
He made an emergency call to the FIA situation manager and everybody he’d ever spoken to at FIA headquarters, and announced, “A Union agent is in Jolie’s apartment. She called and asked me to come, so presumably he’s looking for me. I’m only a quarter klick away, ETA five minutes. Request download of Jolie’s residence.” A second later he was examining the images and diagrams of the Theremin residence. “Will leave communicator open, but on silent mode. Computer messages to me only.”
With a burst
of speed, he headed down the street, weaving around anyone in his way. He leaped over the fence guarding the light vehicle rails, and with a brief pause to time the vehicles whizzing by, leaped over the tracks to the other side, and onward.
In full-battle mode, the hormonal and physical effects of emotions were strictly controlled, but he could still feel. And he was profoundly grateful that he had been walking through the city, because that walk had placed him that much closer to the Union miscreant who was threatening his woman. The woman he cared about. The only woman he wanted to have sex with.
He reached the Theremin structure and dashed through the entrance into the inside courtyard, where he paused to survey the situation. Jolie’s unit was pinpointed in the downloaded plans, and he matched them against the reality. The windowed doors leading onto her balcony were not curtained, but from this distance he couldn’t see or hear anything useful. Luckily the surface of the building and the balcony structure offered more than enough toe- and foot-holds to get up to the balcony.
He swung himself over the railing, concentrating on not making even the slightest noise. If he was correct in assuming that the Union had sent another cyborg after him, his opponent probably had equal if not superior hearing and fighting capability. It would certainly be wise to assume that.
He stood against the wall next to the glass doors, and listened. He caught the low rumble of conversations, and increased the volume and applied noise filtering until he could hear the words clearly.
Jolie said, “So, do you have any nighttime discomfort with the duplinium femur augmentation?”
Thorgan wrinkled his brow in confusion. She was giving this guy a medical consultation?
A rough, low voice responded. “Only when I spend too much time in the gym.”
There was a brief pause, and Thorgan wished he had his viewing extensions with him. This was one conversation that he would give a week’s pay to see.