Prodigal (Maelstrom Chronicles)

by Jody Wallace

  “If you don’t remember it…”

  He fingered a scrape on his knuckle. “I have nightmares about shades. Every damned night. Then I wake up and I’m a zombie. I feel like I do right now.” He grimaced. “It’s as if being around shades forces me into a fugue state. Entity-related PTSD? It’s possible some other things are happening, too.”

  PTSD was no joke. That made sense. The rest didn’t. “Other things like what?”

  Pain crossed his handsome face, etching lines in his cheeks she hadn’t noticed before. “I think I’m drawn to the shades. And this makes three times we know of, including the nexus jump, that I survived a shade touch when I shouldn’t have. How long were they all over me, Claire? Too long for me to have survived.”

  “It was a battle,” she said, not wanting to hear anything else. “You lose track of time in a battle. It was probably mere seconds. Maybe your shade touches just…extend your cushion a little.”

  “I get anxious around shades. Prickly. It’s hard to describe. I have a connection. It’s like they’re inside me.”

  “Everyone gets anxious around shades.” She didn’t know many people who were the exact opposite of shades, but Adam would be on that list. He was so full of life, charm, and vitality—so very not evil—that the thought of him being connected to the shades was ridiculous.

  Which was why she said, “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re not inside you.”

  He stared at her. “Take me seriously, Claire. Listen to me. Really listen.”

  She shook her aching head. “It’s PTSD. Tracy said so. Sarah said so. And that arrogant SOB Dr. Sieders said so.”

  “None of their opinions about my mental health explain how the shades disappeared today. Claire, I…”

  He paused, looking uncertain. In the time she’d known him, he hadn’t been one to hesitate to say anything, even when it was absurd—like, I’m crazy about you, Claire.

  “What?” she asked, suddenly worried.

  He stared at her, his green eyes intense. “I think the shades don’t affect me. I’m immune.”

  “Oooookay.” The scientists said he’d been on the other side, and the only way to have survived that was a miracle. Like immunity. At the same time, if he was immune, that made him some kind of…something. “The scientists didn’t say you were immune.”

  He swallowed. “I’m not only immune, but I think I made the shades go away.”

  “Now you’re getting bizarre.” She could almost handle the idea that a human who’d gotten stuck in the other dimension might build up a couple of minutes of immunity to the shade touch. But a human who controlled shades? “I know you were conscious. I saw you stand. You must have gone into a berserker rage and killed them all. You have a blaster band and the rifle. Your training kicked into overdrive. It can happen, where you go on autopilot.”

  She didn’t want to contemplate anything else. Jeep laser it was.

  He shook his head. “It’s time we face facts. I was on the other side for two years, Claire. The scientists said I’d been transformed on a molecular level. I’m no longer human. I’m immune to shades and can possibly control them. Ship has agreed not to tell anyone yet, but we have to consider what this means.”

  She nudged him with her knee. “Adam, no. You’re forgetting more important facts. Like how you constantly help people. Save people. Like how you wouldn’t hurt a fucking fly. Like how we both survived today, and it was clearly because of you.”

  “Every night I dream I’m swimming in shades, and I’ve been sleepwalking. I know it,” he said, face drawn. “Where am I going? Am I helping the shades find victims?”

  “No.” The man had a wild imagination. She could think of better ways to put it to use. “We’ve been dealing with shade hits in the buffer zone since long before you showed up.”

  “True,” he acknowledged. “Convergences happened before me, too, and we haven’t heard of anyone else coming back from the dead to cause them.”

  “Exactly. As for the sleepwalking, we’ll take care of it. We’ll track you with a sensor array. Ship can stay on your case. Something. But you have to know I am grateful as hell to you right now, what with not being dead and all. And I’m…” In all this confusion, she’d forgotten her gut-wrenching anguish when she’d seen the shades cover him—both times. She recalled it now with a lurch. “Adam, I’m glad you’re not dead.”

  His lips quirked into a small smile. “I’m glad, too.”

  “You can stay on as my roommate.” It was as close as she could get to sharing what she really felt. She didn’t care what the scientists said about him or what he thought about himself. Her opinion was the one that mattered. “Though, if you try to say you blacked out…other things we did, we’re gonna have issues.”

  He laughed and kissed her knuckles. “That’s not something I’m ever going to forget.”

  She grabbed the back of his head and kissed him fiercely, letting him know there wouldn’t be any more rejections. There wouldn’t be any more pretense or hesitation. Actions, after all, spoke louder than words.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tracy shut off the clinic’s Shipborn tube scanner and rolled Adam out of it. The silver and white device had revolved around him, clunking and humming, and it was almost as if he could sense it reading his deepest secrets.

  He’d been on the other side. The shades couldn’t hurt him. He wasn’t human.

  Now, on the shabby, faux leather couches along the wall, he waited patiently with Claire for the results. Or not so patiently in Claire’s case, because she’d spent half the time pacing, claiming she was testing her leg. After they’d been rescued, they’d headed for the clinic to heal Claire’s ankle and had consulted with Tracy about Adam’s revelations. Meanwhile, the science team confiscated the latest pod—the one shades had definitely been inside. Sensor arrays might be shaky on filming the pods, but they didn’t fail to capture the horde of shades showing up out of one.

  Today’s events changed everything. How much would it change attitudes toward him, when half of the planet had already been convinced he was a useless loser, or worse?

  This could really interfere with his plans to be on the front lines of the convergence, fighting the enemy. He wished he could recall what had happened once the shades had attacked him, but all that came to mind were the nightmares—visions of being surrounded by shades, harmed only by the horror of it.

  PTSD? Or an actual memory?

  That couldn’t be all that had happened. After all, the shades were gone, and Claire wasn’t dead. Sure as hell would be helpful to know what to do in situations like he’d been in. Everyone could use a tutorial on how to get rid of that many shades. It was only after he’d been stumbling through the empty field toward Claire that his memories sharpened.

  Tracy uploaded the data about Adam to her tablet and waved them over. Claire beat him there.

  The doctor swiped on a screen of charts, and gibberish appeared that Adam didn’t understand. She handed the tablet to her sister. “What Ship said is true. No extra enhancements. No endo-organics besides the basics. Blasters, sensor array, multipurps, standard tech. He wouldn’t be able to use a wing pack, and he definitely isn’t laced with tactanium.”

  “I informed you of this,” Ship said. “It is unfortunate that Claire has her sensor array set to private whenever she is unconscious or perhaps I could have continued to monitor the events today.”

  “I like my privacy, okay?” Claire said defensively. “It’s not a crime.”

  Adam crossed his arms. He’d assumed as much about the enhancements, but that didn’t mean he liked the answer now that they’d double-checked. “Ship, could there be a new variety of enhancement that doesn’t show up on scanners? One that got installed in me when you weren’t watching?”

  “No,” Ship answered. “The science team’s findings are solid. You are a hybrid human-entity, Adam.”

  “Oh, God.” Claire rubbed a hand over her forehead. “When this gets out, everyone’s g
oing to shit their pants.”

  “Eloquent but inaccurate,” Ship observed. “Mammals are more likely to urinate when frightened due to the actions of the limbic system. The bowels—”

  “Figure of speech,” Tracy interrupted. She gazed at Adam thoughtfully. He could see the resemblance between her and Claire around the eyes, but Tracy’s face was less angular and more traditionally pretty. She radiated a softness Claire didn’t, though he suspected she was just as tough and determined. “A human-entity hybrid. It’s the best explanation for what you can do.”

  He’d snapped a steel scalpel in half for them—it was what she’d had on hand. He’d also told them he could jump like a kangaroo, but that hadn’t been easy to demonstrate in the clinic. His hypothetical immunity to shades would also have to wait for another time.

  Claire handed the tablet back and crossed her arms, too. “What do we do now?”

  Tracy shrugged. She was using one of her crutches, and the other was propped against the scanner. “Don’t know. But we can’t keep it secret.”

  “Why not?” Claire countered. “The scientists will want to stick Adam in isolation, run more experiments, and who knows what else? Hell, GUN might want to execute him.”

  “Normally, I wouldn’t feel right hiding something this monumental,” Adam said. While he might have mixed feelings regarding his connection to the shades, that didn’t mean he was going to curl up in a ball and whimper about it. “But with the convergence coming, I’m more useful out of a cage than in one. If I feel any urges to, I don’t know, collude with the enemy, I’ll let you know.”

  Claire nodded. “See? We can trust him.”

  “You’re shielding him,” Tracy observed, eyebrows arching. “You’re willing to lie for him. Dammit, Claire. When did this happen?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Claire paced away from them stiffly. “Adam, are you ready to go?”

  “Neither of you is going anywhere until I get an answer.” Tracy stared at him again, this time disapprovingly. “Whose idea was it to screw around? Pretty sure my sister wouldn’t have hopped into bed with the Chosen One.” When she gestured, her lab coat sleeve twitched to reveal the blaster band around her wrist. “Is this some kind of Stockholm Syndrome thing?”

  “I’m not holding her captive. Jesus, Tracy.” Adam rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t fault her protectiveness, even if it was depressing that she assumed he must have coerced Claire to sleep with him. Then again, apparently he was half entity. He barely trusted himself. “This is Claire we’re talking about.”

  “Claire is free to come and go as she pleases,” Ship offered. “Adam is restricted to the Chanute territory. If anyone is a captive, it is Adam. Nikolas and the trine will not even allow him to come aboard me. I have been outvoted.”

  Claire half-glanced over her shoulder at Tracy. “Nobody’s holding anybody captive. Besides, it’s none of your business.”

  “Fertile Myrtle, it is literally my business.” Tracy huffed and clacked across the room, banging around in a cabinet. “Do I need to give you a pregnancy test?”

  Claire’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

  They hadn’t been as careful as they could have been. This time, Adam kept his mouth shut. This seemed as much a sibling squabble as anything. And Ship wasn’t helping.

  “By accessing Tracy’s sensor array, I can confirm their heart rates and hormone levels are elevated,” Ship concluded, “particularly oxytocin, which Terrans call the love hormone. During the tube scan of Adam, I detected Claire’s DNA on his—”

  “Shut up,” Claire snapped at Ship. “TMI.”

  “That stands for too much information,” Ship responded. “There is no such thing as too much information. I can create space in my databases indefinitely.”

  Tracy pointed at Claire. “I’m with Ship. No such thing as too much information. No such thing as too careful. Get over here.”

  “You’re overreacting.” But Claire complied with her sister’s demand, ignoring Adam. He stood beside the scanner awkwardly. Claire muttered something rude when the silver, gun-shaped applicator hissed against her skin. “We’re both consenting adults.”

  Tracy scowled. “He’s an adult who doesn’t remember the past thirty years. Considering he’s some weird hybrid of human and entity that doesn’t show up on any of the Shipborn’s most advanced scans, you’re a damned fool to swap DNA with him.”

  “You shut up, too.” Claire rubbed her upper arm.

  “That’s a great counter argument.” Tracy checked the readout on the small machine, which must be some Shipborn device. “You’re not pregnant.”

  “Told you.”

  “Could be too early to measure. I want to test you again in a few days.” She slammed the cabinet doors. “I’m the doctor, not you. Don’t be taking risks at a time like this. Have you considered the future?”

  Claire shrugged. “Yes. In the future, I want you to agree not to tell anyone about Adam’s superstrength and shade immunity. Not the scientists, not our people, not Nikolas. Not until this shit storm with the convergence is over.”

  “That is absolutely not what I’m asking about. I’m talking about birth control.” Tracy widened her eyes at Adam as if she expected him to convince Claire to cooperate. What body part would he lose if he intervened?

  “I have not agreed to keep this from my Shiplink,” Ship said.

  “Then hurry up and pinky swear,” Claire ordered the AI. “You can tell Niko after the convergence. The attack is what we need to focus on, not Adam.”

  “I do not have a pinky,” Ship said.

  “Now you’re just quibbling.” Claire faced the terminal, where Ship was observing them, and pointed at Adam. “Hell, if he’s immune and can, I don’t know, chase shades away, we should use that.”

  Her defense of him felt good, but at the same time it seemed idealistic. Not like her. Was she doing it to spite her sister? If Claire accepted him, he wanted it to be for who he was, not out of stubbornness.

  Ship paused before responding. “Ships do not lie. It is not easy to mislead one’s Shiplink. If I try to—”

  Claire lowered her chin, facing off with the AI through the terminal. “Maybe other Ships don’t, but you routinely tell people only what you want them to know. Look at it this way. Niko and the trine will probably outvote whatever you think should be done about Adam. I know you have no issues withholding information.”

  “Organic sentients cannot create databases indefinitely,” Ship said. “TMI.”

  Tracy groaned. Adam covered his mouth with his hand.

  Claire’s short, curly hair practically stood on end. “Goddammit, you can’t just turn the tables and—”

  “Ships can also interrupt as impolitely as organic sentients, particularly humans with the last name of Lawson,” Ship said.

  “You’re done here,” Claire growled, and flicked the switch on the terminal.

  “Ship didn’t agree to keep it secret,” Tracy pointed out.

  Claire scoffed. “Oh, it will. It’s pissed that Niko and the trine voted not to let Adam come aboard.”

  “Ship and I have come to see eye to eye on lots of things. I don’t think Ship is that petty.” The impression Adam had of the AI was that it would do what was likely to preserve the most sentient lives. In that, he and Ship were in complete agreement.

  “Either way, it doesn’t have anything to do with you two knocking boots.” Tracy hoisted her silver applicator again. “Which one of you is getting the birth control implant?”

  “I’ll take it,” he offered. “Not that I plan to sleep with anyone else.”

  “Damn right you’re not sleeping with anyone else.” Claire proffered her arm again. “Give the implant to me. If there’s anything else wonky about his system, it’s kinda important that the birth control works.”

  “No kidding.” Tracy dialed something else on the silver device and treated Claire with it, jabbing her hard enough that she flinched. “I never thought I
’d see this day. My sister and Adam Alsing. The end of the world is nigh.”

  Tracy next directed her attention toward Adam. She pointed at him with the applicator like it was a gun. “And you. I thought you’d changed. You seem so easy-going and harmless. Now look at you. Bending steel bars and chasing shades around. Where do you get off taking advantage of a woman who let you sleep in her room? You might not remember being a dick, but clearly you still are.”

  “Let’s go before she figures out my secret plan to sell her to the warlords. They trade all kinds of great shit for doctors,” Claire snarled at Adam. She slammed out of the clinic, but he stayed.

  “Tracy.” He crossed the large room but didn’t get too close. The clinic wasn’t set up in a series of private chambers like the jail and weapons room; it was an open service area with curtained off beds, like an ER. “You should know, I’m in love with your sister.”

  Tracy kept her back to him, her long dreads quivering as she busied herself with some supplies on a table. “Are you asking for my blessing? Because you can’t have it.”

  “I’m telling you I’d never hurt her.” A movie quote about marriage popped into his head, and he ignored it. “I may not remember my past, but I’m going to support her and all the people in Chanute.”

  “Oh, you’re one of those. A supporter.” She made it sound like the worst thing in the world—a synonym for weak and pathetic. “She’ll hurt you, then. Eventually. She needs a partner, not a supporter.”

  Sounded good to him. “I can work with that.”

  “Oh, God. Really? You’re a puppy. You’re a deadly, dangerous puppy that doesn’t even know how hard it can bite.”

  With that much spitefulness, she managed to get under his skin, and he didn’t want to be angry at Claire’s sister. It felt disloyal. But neither would he allow her to belittle him.

  “Even before the scientists confirmed I wasn’t entirely human, I knew something was different about me,” he told her. “That doesn’t mean you get to treat me like crap. How about instead of giving me attitude, you say, ‘Thank you, Adam, for saving my sister’s life today’? And I’ll say, ‘Anytime, Tracy, and if you’re in danger, I’ll save your life, too.’”