Wash

by Naomi Fraser

  “Where are we going? I thought we were headed back for the ship?” I ask breathlessly alongside him.

  “We are. Going a round-about route though, just in case we get more surprises,” Marcus grunts.

  “What do you think happened to the leaders I talked to on board the ship?”

  “Nothing good, I’d wager.” Marcus’s tone is brusque. “The Oshiro government could be tracking you, considering they didn’t want you off Detera. Stop here.”

  I rub a hand along my forehead and slow beside him. “I can’t believe I’ve brought you so much trouble. You better know who you’re taking back to your home planet.”

  He tilts his head as if studying me. “No trouble. This is my job.”

  Right. My birth gift has a purpose. I am relegated to a job. People use me for my healing ability, but I feel like my real strength remains untapped. Whatever that may be.

  He stares into my eyes and then reaches up to touch my hair, but at Casey’s call, he drops his hand by his side.

  “I got an idea.” The devilment in Casey’s eyes gets my attention. His head turns toward an ambulance out the front of a hospital.

  Marcus blows out a hard breath. “Brilliant.”

  “Well, they won’t expect that.” Constance nods, then turn with hands on her hips. She narrows her eyes on us. “What do you think, Captain?”

  “I think it’s going to have a capsule on board. All the ambulances do. Might not be the newest tech, but better than the one we have.” He withdraws both guns from his holsters, and his muscles harden as his alert gaze roams the lot. Then he regards me steadily with gleaming navy eyes. “Ready?”

  I nod and bite my bottom lip in anticipation. My heartbeat races at the idea of getting a better Med Gen Capsule for May. This is my last chance. It can’t go wrong. “Yes.”

  Casey scans the area and then points at the loading bay.

  Chapter Ten

  The delicious aromas of sizzling bacon and coffee waft through the relaxation zone’s arched doorways on board the ship. My stomach rumbles, but I sink onto the soft, black sofa, swing up my legs to the other armrest and then settle in to study the dried streambed topography on sub-surface water on Qelia, Marcus’s home planet. An easyreader visor skims with frequencies in front of my eyes, but the vibrations make my ears pop with each scene change, causing momentary deafness.

  Can’t be helped. Vibrations from older technology can affect me that way¸ and the visor is an earlier generation than what I’m used to on Echyion.

  Environmental scientists appear on screen to explain the lack of aquifers and channels. Qelia has had no rain for several lifetimes. The last time it rained has become a tale of legend. Crops are grown on top of mountains in the hopes the cloud condensation will be enough moisture to support plant growth. Numerous heat waves have animals dead in fields from lack of water. The engineers have built a pipe framework to assist the people in homes, yet the Qelia government needs to buy water, and the cost is breaking them.

  Ecologically, they are a dying planet.

  And economically, the lack of water affects everything. Even with strict water restrictions, businesses cannot afford to operate. Youth unemployment sky-rockets and farmers go broke, which leads to dismal food security and mass planet exodus. Then the down spiral gets vicious.

  This is my purpose, and my heart dances with excitement at the chance to provide Qelia’s people with a functional and permanent water system. Fifteen minutes into a technical explanation of how their engineers manage the dams, a tap on my boot coincides with a, “Hey,” and I jerk back, flipping up the visor.

  Constance stands at the end of the sofa, swaddled in a green robe and holding a mug in each hand. Her dark glasses slip down her nose, but she sips her drink then smiles. “I brought you a coffee. Can I sit down?”

  I scramble to the other side of the sofa, mortified. “Oh, I’m sorry for taking up so much space.”

  “That’s all right.” She hands over the other cup, looking rather pale in the face, and after my thank you, she continues: “I’m a bit sore from yesterday. This seat is softer than the others.” She sits down, groans and then casts me a knowing grin. “Not used to communal living?”

  Heat builds in my cheeks. “No.” I drop the visor into my lap and take a sip of the hot brew. Rich, creamy coffee slides down my throat and warms my stomach. “This is good. In the facility, there was only me. Well, Astrakhan, too, but he didn’t need to sit at—”

  “Victoria,” April interrupts, sauntering across the dark carpet. She weaves around the small coffee tables and lived-in chairs. Dark green trousers encase her legs, a wide black gun belt sits at her hips, and her brown singlet brings out the cocoa colour of her skin. “Casey told me what you pulled yesterday. Love it.” She grins. “You’ll have to give me every detail over breakfast. Geoff says it’s ready, guys. Let’s go get some food.”

  Constance nods and pushes herself up off the seat. Her body flashes in and out of x-ray. At least her airways look normal, but soon everyone will know I haven’t mastered my emotions. Things children must be taught how to do. The muscles in my chest tighten, and I blow out a few hard breaths through my nose. It takes several blinks before her three-dimensional figure holds, and I rub my eyelids. I’m going to have to explain the incident at APEC. There wasn’t time yesterday with securing May in the new Med Gen Capsule and the hyper jump from Altiosn’s orbit.

  “Worried about your sister? Chester said she’s doing great.”

  April’s at my side, and I run a hand through my loose, long hair. “No, it’s not that. My eyesight keeps flashing in and out.” I ignore her strange stare, place the visor on the armrest and then rise to follow Constance past the television on the wall toward the walkway that leads to the kitchen. Though I can’t miss it—I only need to trace the delicious smells.

  “What do you mean by that?” April asks curiously behind me. “How your eyesight plays up?”

  I cast her a panicked look before stepping over the threshold into the noisy kitchen where everyone lines up to grab a plate from the counter. Marcus turns from the coffee percolator, and his gaze crashes into mine.

  His compelling stare rivets me to the spot, the blue in his eyes drinking me up, and then his appreciative gaze drifts from my serviceable Old Order boots to the clean white singlet to settle on my tumbling hair. A faint light twinkles in the depths of his dark gaze, and a sensuous smile tips up the corners of his mouth.

  My heartbeat thunders in my ears, and then I blurt, “I see in x-ray sometimes.” I slap a hand over my mouth because the words fall into a sudden, horrible silence in the room. Everyone turns to stare at me. Oh, great.

  “Excuse me?” Zach tilts his head and gapes with wide eyes. “You see in x-ray?” Without waiting for me to speak, he strides to the table, clanks his plate down and growls, “Hell. No.”

  April laughs. “What’s your problem now?” She stands behind me in line and throws him a teasing grin. “Worried what you look like underneath those clothes?”

  “As if.” He glares at her, but a dark red stains the scars on his cheekbones, then he drags in his chair so hard the legs scrape against the floor. “Please tell me you can’t do that.” His sudden attention to his breakfast prods me to fill in the silence.

  “It’s part of my water-healing ability,” I murmur. “I can see into cells, I follow the path of water. Everything is a vibration, and I pick up on different ones.”

  “In other words, she’s not looking for cheap thrills,” Constance fills in, taking another sip of her coffee, then grabbing a plate to go sit beside Rick. “Why would she? Look at her. She could be one of those glamorous models on Tachyon, have any guy she wants. I never look that good in the morning. She can’t help what she sees.”

  Everyone once again looks up at me, and I suffer through their scrutiny. “I’m quite ordinary.”

  Marcus chokes on his coffee and sets down the cup with a thump. His mouth pops open, and he simply stares.
/>   Rick snorts.

  “In looks I am,” I stress.

  Constance shakes her head at me.

  “So why ice?” April asks, spinning a chair around to sit down. She rests her hands on the top of the backrest. “What does that even feel like?”

  “Frosty, baby,” Rick says.

  Rage. My jaw tenses. I grab a plate at the counter and then glance to the table for an empty chair, stalling. The only spot left is beside Marcus. I traipse over, swallow nervously and then sit, loving the spiciness of his cologne and the fresh shampoo scent in his hair. No training in the facility ever prepared me for this kind of attraction.

  He tilts his head and grins in a flash of white teeth so dazzling against his tanned skin. My heart turns over, and the rough cotton singlet feels two sizes too small. Slowly, his gaze slides downward to my mouth, and I can’t help biting my bottom lip. His eyes darken, and my knees turn to mush beneath the table.

  “Victoria, what happened with the ice?”

  I hold a hand to my chest and turn to April, taking in a deep breath. I can’t ignore the question, no matter how much I wish to. Astrakhan’s teachings of the rituals over a dining table are so deeply embedded in my mind, I must follow protocol, although I try to ignore the anxious thudding near my solar plexus. “It’s one of my weaknesses, I’m afraid. Can you please pass the salt?”

  “Weaknesses?” Marcus drawls.

  “Yeah,” Aprils says, “Stop trying to change the subject. Spill.”

  I blow out a breath. Place my knife and fork on the table without making a sound. “I thought I would be caught again, and I wouldn’t be able to save May. When I experience . . . emotion, intense emotion, I leak more power. Sometimes dangerously so.”

  Silence falls, a microwave pings, and then Geoff places a plate of rolls on the table with a tub of butter. He also sets April’s plate in front of her. The warm, delicious aroma of freshly baked bread sharpens my appetite and makes me salivate. He holds onto the back of Rick’s chair, his thick fingers turning red. “Are you serious?” he asks.

  “I just haven’t learnt how to control it at those times,” I say defensively.

  “But you spent years in a training camp.” Marcus frowns. “How does that work? Who trained you?”

  “One of Echyion’s finest and newer models of synthetic humans. But Astrakhan’s uplinks came from the elders.”

  “Whoa, wait up. Hold on.” Marcus raises a hand and leans closer toward me. “Did I hear you right? Synthetic human? You can create water, control it, and heal people all over the universe,” he says indignantly in his deep, drawling voice, “but you were trained by a machine?”

  “All the human masters at the start of my training tried to sell me because I was worth so much. The elders decided an impartial computer would be the best solution. There were no biased—”

  “I see.” Marcus sighs. “You were brought up by a robot and wonder why you have trouble with emotion? Have I got that right?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, and I just stare at him. “It was the best solution at the time. My mother did it to save my life. So no one could hurt me.” My voice rises in protest at the obvious horror in his eyes. “I was stolen by mercenaries from my home when I was three, plucked right out of my bedroom, but the elders managed to rescue me before I was taken off-planet. My mother feared for my life. She said she’d never forgive herself if it happened again.”

  “That explains a lot actually,” Constance says, buttering her roll. “Your turn of phrase sometimes. I thought it was your mannerisms, but you would’ve picked that up from a robot. Interesting. I’d like to make an academic report on it, if you’re willing.”

  “I . . . I didn’t realise it was so obvious.” I look at my plate. “Astrakhan was programmed to never betray me. He would never sell me out to others for monetary gain. He wasn’t prejudiced, didn’t hate anyone, and the facility was run in relative obscurity.” I rub my forehead and glance at all of them. “It was his impartiality that made the teachings so comprehensive. Many of my earlier human masters warned me not to heal a certain kind of person. Echyion elders don’t believe in superiority. I have been schooled in all things human in preparation for my release from their care.”

  “But you can’t hug a lump of steel,” April points out. “He wouldn’t understand why you’d need chocolate and wine at eleven-thirty at night when you have PMS. You can’t love them like a parent. The most basic thing that makes you human.” Her eyes glisten with tears.

  “Instead, she has her sister,” Marcus replies. “That’s how she experiences love and bonding.” His hand trembles as he runs it through his still wet hair. “Holy hell. This isn’t happening.”

  April knuckles her eyes and sniffs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Victoria. You’re a woman. It sounds completely normal to me. You know when I get mad, I blow stuff up, and people get shot. When I’m happy, I bake cookies and shit.”

  Constance laughs. “Victoria, you flooded Oshiro and drew us there. It’s because of your depth of feeling that you found a way off Detera. And now you’re going to heal an entire planet and its people.”

  I stare at her. No one has ever put it quite like that, but she’s right. I can’t fault her logic. It’s because I lost control that news of the flood became common knowledge. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am,” she says in a pat voice and digs into her bacon and rehydrated eggs. Then she swallows and casually points her fork in my direction. “You’re smart, too. It’s taken these guys ages to figure that one out.”

  Casey, Zach, and April throw bits of roll at her, and Geoff starts yelling about the mess.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You don’t seem to be in an awful hurry. I’d like a word.”

  I turn with a start at Marcus’s deep, silky voice. He rests his lean, well-muscled body against the metal railing outside the kitchen and exudes the commanding self-confidence of a star ship captain. His gaze rakes over my figure, and his eyes twinkle darker than sapphires. The firm outline of his shoulders strain against the fabric of his blue long-sleeved shirt, and as he tilts his head, smooth, tanned skin stretches over his high cheekbones.

  A slow, cocky smile curves his lips. “Well?”

  A tingle explodes in the pit of my stomach, and a delicious quiver passes over my skin. My heart drums with the memory of him on top of me at APEC. The wonderful heaviness of his body pressing against mine, his lips hovering so close to my mouth. Oh, sweet universe. Not now. I throttle my wayward thoughts and emotions before they get the best of me. I need a tight lid on my emotions to prevent more water outbursts.

  A little laugh makes me look away. April runs down the stairs to the loading bay. She throws me a devilish wink and then disappears around a corner. I frown at the space behind her and then look around to the other walkways. Everyone else has disappeared. I’m the last one in line to leave the kitchen, as I stayed to fill the water containers.

  “No matter. This won’t take too long,” he says. “Then I’ll let you get back to your tasks.”

  I glance back up at him and can’t help letting my gaze roam over the expanse of his tanned throat revealed by the open neck of his shirt. The overhead light strikes his hair, turning the deep brown into light amber. His lips press together, and then he straightens and strides toward me, his long legs in brown trousers with a wide leather gun belt at his hips. “Something wrong?” he asks.

  “I . . . ah . . .” I attempt to smooth out my brow, but water drips from my fingertips, and my palms tingle. I hide my hands behind my back. He makes me feel things I’ve only read about, and I’m not sure I’m ready for the experience. I certainly can’t tell him. So I tip up my chin, trying to steady my breathing. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Are you . . .” He scratches his head and rubs his neck, his gaze dropping to my chest. Then he shrugs, looking uncomfortable and sets his hands on his hips. “Interested in looking at our garden after you sit with your sister? I
thought it might make you feel more at home.”

  A bubbling joy threatens to erupt from my chest, and a wide smile curves my mouth. “Really? I’d love to. I have to keep researching Qelia, but I . . .” I meet his soft blue eyes, and a warm glow of contentment flows through me. I step toward him. “I’d like that.”

  His mouth softens. “Uh . . . you can do whatever you want on board.” He steps closer, his gaze on my lips, and the warm, spicy scent of his skin surrounds me. His arms fall by his sides, though he rubs his fingers against his palms. “This isn’t like back in your training facility. I want you to know that. You don’t have to wait for my say so. I’m the captain, but this ship is your home for as long as you need. We want you here.”

  “You do?” I ask in wonder. Then realisation kicks in, and I struggle to hide my grimace. “Of course, for my water.”

  He tilts his head and says, “If it pleases you to think so.” Then he turns and strides with a long-legged grace into the deep shadows at the other end of the walkway.

  I spin around in a daze in the direction of the clinic, leaving wet boot prints in my wake.

  *

  Hydration ends in four hours and counting . . .

  Poor plants. Black soil flattens and then sinks beneath my moist palms. I hum under my breath, kneeling at the edge of a tubular tray in the ship’s food garden. From the second Marcus let me know I could help with the garden two days ago, I knew it’d be a good idea.

  May’s healing rate in the Med Gen Capsule means she’s going to be out soon, and the warm, earthy scents of the garden bring back memories of rich habitats and sanitised rooms. Of Astrakhan and his computer clipboard. Sunlight upon my skin and safety. Healing the stick corpses into lovely, lush plants allows me to think and expend my water energy before we dock at Qelia.