by Rena Marks
That she couldn’t wake from.
She had no qualms about dying. She’d already died, that day when Steele did. But she wasn’t going without making every last person involved pay.
This time, she had some new information, thanks to the theory Steele had given her.
“There’s a chemical their bodies produce that humans don’t. Therefore it stands to reason it must come from their alien DNA. However, the anomaly is—how can that be? They are all of different species. So what is this chemical? How is it produced? Where? And why?”
For the first time in months, Amanda’s eyes sparkled. She looked alive, and younger. “Show me.”
* * * * *
Robyn muttered under her breath, watching the man restrained against the wall inside the next room. Every time she sneaked into the viewing room, it depressed her, but yet she was drawn—like watching a car wreck.
The revival had gone smoothly, though unsuccessful to a degree. While their bodies were alive, their brain waves were low functioning. The most they’d be able to do was sit up. As a last resort, she’d gotten Meade to agree to a medically induced coma for a week. The theory was to try to let their brains recuperate after the revival.
She knew Steele couldn’t see her through the two-way glass and though she had a right to watch him, she felt like a perverse peeping tom. As if Meade and his cronies knew what she was looking at, what she was feeling. Her gaze skimmed over his bare chest and the bulging muscles of his shoulders and arms. His massive biceps bunched while he pulled on the chains, rage thinning his lips as he fought for freedom. He’d been revived about three minutes earlier and hadn’t been put into a healing sleep. None of them had. Steele’s head had to pound. He couldn’t speak, he just grunted and groaned, pushing everything away. His brain waves didn’t show any cognizance levels.
She ached for him. He had to know the futility of his actions after hours of this, yet he still struggled. Her hand lifted to touch the smooth, cool glass. She wished she could soothe him by showing him she cared. Most of all, she wanted to get him out of the hellish prison that contained him. He deserved to be free with whatever he had left.
They all did.
She wished things could have been different. She’d give anything to go back and play things differently than she had. Hell, she should have been paying more attention, hacking into the feeds of the scientists instead of spending all her time hacking into government feeds. She might have had a clue that they were going to take over that fateful day two months earlier.
She’d hacked since, of course. She knew that she and Amanda had no chance of leaving this alive. When their six months ran out and they were returned to the surface, both would have accidents.
Their DNA samples had been collected and reported as hostile. The lasers that protected their planet would backtrack, focus on their chests, and one blast would end their lives before they could ever speak. It would be called an accident, a tragic misfiring that would never happen to such staunch members of society again.
Movement in the corner of the room drew her attention away from the man who haunted her thoughts day and night. Fear made her heart race as a technician entered the room. Bobby Kincaide, nephew to Director Meade. On a split second decision, she followed. Bobby was young, mid thirties, with tattoos that snaked up his arms and neck underneath his scrubs. His hair was on the longish side and tucked behind his ears. His lips were thin and his flat brown eyes were cruel.
The rat ignored her as they entered the area that housed Steele. But he finally looked up at her as she paused near the head of the table where Steele was tied.
Uncaring of the man on the table, the technician read and recorded the vitals on the monitoring tape strapped to Steele’s forehead, chest and arm. The tech didn’t bother to talk to Steele or treat him as a real person. He used his gloved hand to grab Steele’s arm and wrap a rubber band around it.
Steele heaved himself against the bands.
“Stop struggling,” she said softly, kneeling down toward his head. “He needs to draw blood. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
The technician snorted, surprised that she would bother talking.
“They can’t understand you, you know. The downloads of the English language aren’t yet complete.”
He was telling her? She was the one in charge of brain downloads.
“It doesn’t matter. It soothes them to hear a voice.”
Steele stopped struggling, proving her point.
“I’ll never understand it,” the technician muttered. He wasn’t at all gentle, stabbing a vein viciously.
Steele snarled, his voice low in warning.
“Shh, it’s okay,” she said, her hand on his brow. “It’ll be over in a minute.” She turned her head to the technician and narrowed her eyes in warning, though her voice stayed in the same soothing tone. “Take care with him. He’s an expensive unit.”
“That’s it,” the tech said, ignoring her and jabbing Steele’s inner elbow roughly with a cotton ball.
“Let me do that,” Robyn said, reaching for the bit of fluff, pressing it to his wound firmly, but gently, to staunch the bleeding.
“Are you crazy? You don’t even have gloves on.”
She cocked her head. “They’ve had every medical screening known to man. If he had some dreadful blood infection, I’d be the first to know about it.”
“They’re hybrids. Not even human. They probably have shit we’ve never heard about. But suit yourself,” the tech said, labeling his vials and placing them inside the soft covered medical box he’d brought in.
The door buzzed behind him as he used his key card and left.
“Don’t worry,” Robyn said to Steele. “He’s gone now. It’s time for your language processing.” She soothed his forehead with the barest skim of her fingertips. She hoped the small touch would let him know she would be setting the processor there, over his forehead and extended over his ears.
He seemed to go still.
Now that she was alone, she could finally study him. He really was striking. His lips were firm and kissable, just like she remembered. The silver skin shimmered under certain lights, his black hair was sleek and smooth. It was growing quickly, which meant they had the nutrients in the feeding tube correct.
And he wouldn’t remember her or their time together. Scans showed definite brain damage. His brainwaves were completely different from the personality he had before.
That was the only reason why she and Amanda hadn’t been killed already. She’d sent the scans of the before and after revivals to the Global Government. Meade had cursed and screamed, but in the end, the “creatures” as they were referred to, were too expensive to damage. That was the only ammunition she had.
So she bent to Steele and said the same thing she always told him, the same thing that linked him to before. “Remember, you’ve been named Steele. However, if you don’t like it, you’re welcome to change it. You will be awakened soon. Please prepare yourself for this happening.”
Very slowly so as not to startle him, she placed the weight of the device directly onto his forehead. She made sure it was over each ear properly. Yesterday on Renegade, she discovered the tip of his ear had been bent a little. She winced. That had to have been sore when she’d released the device two hours later.
“I’ll be back,” she said softly. She patted his hand, wrapping her fingers around him. For the briefest second, she could have sworn he tensed as if he’d squeeze her back. Or as though he hated her touch. But then…nothing.
She switched the device on, waited for a few seconds to watch his reaction. No flinching, no tensing of the muscles. She picked up her bag and moved on to the next room.
Renegade held still as she pushed open the door softly. Eerie. It was almost as if they could tell who entered just by the motion of the door. Who knew what went through their minds? There was low-pattern brain activity recorded, but that didn’t tell what their thoughts and feelings were. After th
e language downloads, Amanda hoped to put them in a healing sleep for at least a week.
“Good morning, Renegade,” she said softly. Of all of the new hybrids, he could probably pass most for human. As long as he wore longer hair to hide the ridges on his forehead, that was, because they were very prominent a few months ago. But his skin color was a deeper, reddish tone. Much like original Native Americans. She’d never spent much time with him, focusing her attentions on Steele and Beast instead. But now, this time, she made sure all of their computer-connected brains were working properly.
The inner elbow of his arm was bruised from Bobby, the asshole technician. She tightened her lips. She’d be reprimanding the tech, and she knew exactly how to do it. If any of these expensive hybrids suffered a thrombosis from his harsh treatment, she’d make sure he knew the price of one of these beings would be billed to him. After all, she’d hacked into the government records to know exactly what they’d paid to Crested Ute. A copy of the bill ought to force him to take a little more care. The bastard. And it would let everyone know they could only push her so far.
As yet, the lasers to take her out couldn’t reach the depths of the ocean.
She lightly touched the swollen spot, noticing how Renegade froze. “I’ll put some of my red tape on this. He won’t be allowed to touch this spot until it heals.”
Very gently, she wrapped the self-stick tape around his elbow, allowing the edges to gently come together. Then she ran her arms up and down his body, the way Amanda had taught her, checking for any abnormal lumps or bumps.
“When I come back later,” she said, “I’ll turn you over for a bit. Right now you need to have your download, though.”
She checked his feeding tube. It was fine. At that point, she noticed the small cloth protecting his modesty had been jarred from his groin.
Damn that technician. He probably thought he was being funny to leave the man lying exposed.
She adjusted the privacy cloth, tucking it securely beneath his hips, feeling the tight muscles of his buttocks as she pressed it beneath him.
This was how she should have been from day one with Steele. Professional. She didn’t have the acute awareness with Renegade that she’d always fostered with Steele. And look at what her favoritism caused. It caused her to fuck up royally, and not put all of her attention on the situation.
But, oh god. Those last days with Steele, the constant touching and kissing and whispered plans for someday…she lived for those memories. For what could have been.
To someday tell him she loved him.
Then she moved to the top of the table, and skimmed Renegade’s forehead with her fingers to let him know she intended to place the downloader. He held still and she moved it downward, settling it carefully over his ears. They were slightly larger than most, which is probably how she’d gotten the tip of one curled under the device last time. She ran her finger inside the shell of his ear, checking.
All clear.
“Okay, Renegade,” she said, liking the name that Amanda had picked for him from the first revival. It suited him, or at least it had then. It saddened her that he may be a completely different person from the laughing individual they’d known before. “I’ll be back in one hour. I have to set the others, too.”
* * * * *
Steele:
Is she gone?
Mentally, Renegade responded. She just left. I have no idea what she’s saying but I assume she’s putting the same equipment on the others.
What do you make of her?
It could be another trick. But I don’t sense danger from her.
They’re all dangerous. Steele could practically hear the snarl in his own thoughts. Why was Renegade trying to defend the small human they’d never seen? Why were their eyes even taped shut? Her touch was different from that of the other female doctor, and he didn’t trust either one of them.
Her touch aims to soothe.
That means nothing.
Her tone of voice changes when she speaks to the one who draws blood. It is softer with me. And when the other left, she tucked the sheet around me so I wouldn’t be exposed. I almost hardened at her touch.
Steele felt a primal instinct of dominance rear its ugly head. His fists clenched, and he wasn’t sure who he wanted to strangle, Renegade or…the female. How dare she touch Renegade’s skin? And how dare Renegade harden at the thought of her? She was meant for…
I’ll strangle her before her touch ever makes me harden.
There is no controlling the body’s response. Surely you remember that? From the time they wanted to breed us?
None of them will tempt me.
Keep a cool head, Renegade instructed. She and the female doctor may be our key out of here. Concentrate on the language the implant will teach us. Soon we will find out how many others survived the death.
Do you think they are aware we communicate mentally?
I’m not sure. I sense if anyone is aware, it would be the two females. But so far they haven’t said anything.
Chapter Nine
One week later:
“Good morning, EKO-2,” Robyn said softly. She’d wanted to be the first one he saw when he woke, the way Amanda had been for Renegade just this morning. It had been a hell of a week, waiting to see how the four would wake. If it were up to her, they’d give them at least a month to recuperate while unconscious, but they could only argue for a week against Director Meade. The barest minimum. It was a delicate balance of power, and the only reason why Meade played along was the small leaks of information that went to the government to keep him in line.
“My name is Steele.” His voice was clear.
A smile broke out on her face. Her efforts paid off. While the four were in comas, she and Amanda retrieved samples of the chemical produced. It had been a bitch to isolate it, and they weren’t sure they got it right. But their levels topped off almost immediately after the samples were withdrawn. And now, right before waking—they’d injected most of it back in. It was like a dose of super-alien-DNA, and went to work healing pathways that had been damaged in the brain’s death. No longer did they just grunt, now they were able to process language.
“I’m glad you like it, Steele. I will continue to call you that from now on.” God, he was beautiful.
He was staring at her so intently, his eyes complete dark pools of ink that she could see her entire reflection in. It was hard to tell where his pupil began against the edge of his matching iris, since they were the same color. For that matter, the normally white sclera of his eye also matched his iris. Eyes she could get lost in. Eyes she had gotten lost in. Please, please, remember your feelings for me.
But then he slumped, baffled.
“My name is Dr. Robyn Saraven. I don’t use the title. I have a doctorate in computer science, which isn’t really a medical field. You can just call me Robyn. I’m going to help you sit up.” Her voice was quiet and somewhat saddened as she remembered their teasing about her title from before. He wouldn’t know that. But then, he wouldn’t remember how Director Meade taunted him with not using her title right before killing him.
She reached for the straps that held his arms, her skin feeling warm against his.
“You’re touching me?” He sounded confused.
“Why wouldn’t I touch you?”
“I might be…diseased,” he said.
Now where would he have heard that? The lab technician had said it of course, but that was pre-coma. Before they’d even had their language implants. “Of course you’re not diseased.” She gave him a big smile, as the leather strap came undone. Quickly, she unfastened the others holding down his limbs. His skin was reddened underneath the straps.
It was all she could do not to run her hands over the muscled swells of his body, as if her body needed to be reminded he was hers. He was magnificent in form—so damn alive. Familiar warmth spooled low in her belly, but she ignored it. This time she would remain professional with the miracle she’d been granted. Sh
e couldn’t screw this up twice.
“Let’s just sit here for a while and gain your balance,” she said.
“I can’t remember the before,” he said. He scrunched up his forehead. “It’s just a dark void.”
“The before?”
“When I was awakened before.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The doctors would have a heyday with this amount of brain regeneration. What the hell had she and Amanda stumbled upon with the brain chemical they’d labeled Quinteah?
“I’m not sure why you can’t remember, or whether it was even real. It could be an intense dream. But I do know that until we find out further details, you should probably not mention it to anyone else.”
She kept her gaze down while she told him, but sensed his eyes on her. Finally, he nodded.
Did he understand they had to establish trust between them? He seemed much more distrusting than before. Even without remembering why he needed to be. And if he was suspicious with everyone, how would she convince him she was on his side?
* * * * *
Steele:
The door behind Dr. Robyn swung open. There was never a knock, and for some reason, he expected a person to knock before entering the small rooms.
“How is he?” The male voice was booming. Jovial.
Obnoxious.
He’d seen the fat doctor before, of course. This time he was with a smaller doctor, one with no expression on his face. A doormat human, one who followed the leader.
Dr. Robyn’s voice changed, becoming clinical, and hard. He didn’t like it. “As we expected. He has command of the English language, but his brain is much slower—damaged from before. You’ll notice he lulls off into a daze every now and then, lost in his head.”