Diffraction

by Jess Anastasi

  He jogged up the stairs, disappearing into the upper levels. A rumbling started up above her, both skimmers being brought to life on top of the ship.

  Rian would leave without her. He rarely gave the same order twice. If a person didn’t follow the rules, they got left out in the cold. But she couldn’t abandon Varean, chained up and defenseless in the bottom of the ship.

  She swept a glance around the cargo bay but didn’t find anything worth a damn. Urgency clamped onto her, and she ran into the engine room, colliding with the bench and scattering tools, searching for something to break the locks or chains. The ship’s mechanic, Jensen, had things all over the place with no order whatsoever.

  She grabbed a small power saw, knowing it would take ages to cut through, but finding no other options. Back in the brig, she couldn’t meet Varean’s gaze as she rushed by him and fired up the blade.

  “Get out of here,” Varean said, his voice hard, with more than a hint of order to his tone.

  “Shut up. I’m not leaving you.” But even as she touched the saw to the chain, the stupid piece of crap tool sparked and died in her hands.

  “Damn it!” She threw the useless hunk of parts and pushed to her feet. “I’ll find something else—”

  “Kira!” Varean’s expression was just short of furious as he stared down at her. “Get out of here before they leave without you.”

  Despite that being a very real possibility, her heart palpitated harder at the thought of abandoning him and what he might face alone with the IPC authorities or Reidar bearing down on this ship, more so than the notion of the crew flying off without her.

  “Maybe they don’t want to take responsibility for what we’ve done to you, but I will, no matter what.”

  He gripped the chains around his wrists, making his biceps and shoulder muscles tighten. “You’re being stupid. You don’t even know me, but I can sure as hell tell you I’m not worth getting caught or dying over. Do what the captain ordered and get the hell off this ship.”

  Though he obviously intended the opposite, his words only made her dig in, made the stubborn anger and drive to do the right thing burn hotter.

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Damn it!” Varean yanked furiously against the chains, and the metal above his head whined. They both glanced up, the brace where Callan had threaded the chain now bent.

  She took half a step closer, a spark of hope making her heart skip a beat. “Do that again.”

  He locked his grip on the chain and tensed, then pulled against the links. The metal whined again, slowly turning into a low screech.

  “Varean, you’ve almost got it!”

  He lowered his head, entire body taut as he strained another tortured step forward until the brace half popped on one side, less than a finger’s breadth away from snapping free. He took another step but, with a muted crack, his shoulder dislocated, yanking out of the joint.

  “Oh my god.” She started forward but, apart from clenching his jaw on a grunt, he didn’t stop, putting all his weight into his good arm and giving one final, vicious tug. The brace broke, and Varean collapsed forward to his knees, chest heaving as his arms dropped with the chain.

  She wanted to examine him, make sure the dislocated shoulder was the only thing he’d damaged in the desperate escape, but they didn’t have time and, even as she reached for him, he was already pushing to his feet.

  She grabbed her bag off the floor as he looped the chain in one hand while keeping his injured arm close to his chest. They sprinted out of the brig, running up into the ship. Halfway there, she detoured into her medbay. Varean didn’t say anything, just waited as she pulled a second medical bag out of a recess and snatched the blood samples she’d taken from him out of the coldstore, shoving them into a thermal-lined case that would keep them at optimal temperature.

  Not letting herself dwell on the fact that she was leaving half her life behind on this ship and what might happen to it after she was gone, she brushed by Varean and continued upward.

  As they hit the top of the stairs, she found Zahli waiting at the bottom of the ladder-steps leading into the left skimmer. Her friend’s expression relaxed with relief, before she turned to climb up. “Another few seconds, and Rian would have ordered us to leave you behind.”

  Frustration at everyone’s lack of concern over Varean’s welfare almost had her snapping at her friend, but she clamped her teeth over the words while she waited for Varean to go ahead of her, up into the skimmer. Considering he was one-handed and still chained, he climbed surprisingly fast. She’d barely pulled the hatch closed behind her before the craft started disengaging from the Imojenna.

  Lianna was at the helm, Tannin beside her, along with Zahli. Which meant Rian, Callan, Jensen, Ella, and Nyah had taken the other skimmer. Once, a few months ago, the entire crew could have all fit together on one skimmer, but now they had no choice but to take both.

  Varean stood tense and wary not three steps from the hatchway, injured arm cradled against his chest, the other hand braced against the bulkhead as Lianna maneuvered the skimmer away from the Imojenna and amped up the throttle.

  “Where are we going?” She set her two medical bags and the case containing Varean’s blood samples into a nearby recess. Through the single viewport at the front of the shuttle, the other skimmer with the rest of the crew split off in another direction.

  “We’re going on to Barasa to follow up on Quaine Ayden like we’d planned,” Lianna answered, tabbing off the comm as the heated voice of a station tower controller ordered them to return to port or risk injunctive weapons fire. “Rian and the others are heading to Dunham. Apparently he’s got an acquaintance there he wants to try for the stunner components.”

  “Because the last contact worked out so well,” Zahli muttered, crossing her arms. Though she had a dark glare on her face, Kira could see the worry in her friend’s gaze as the other skimmer disappeared from view.

  So, by reason of deduction, it seemed Rian’s contact on Kalaheo had screwed him over, which is obviously what had led to them abandoning ship. Well, that made her twice as glad she hadn’t ended up on the other skimmer with the captain. If he’d been coldly lethal since finding that abandoned ship, she couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of deadly mood he was in now that they’d had to leave the Imojenna. She wasn’t the only one who believed captaining the Imojenna was one of the only things keeping Rian from going off the psychotic deep end.

  She turned to Varean, stepping closer as she studied the dislocated shoulder and the chains dragging from his wrists.

  “We obviously need to do something about that.” She turned her attention to the compartments, rummaging around until she came up with a pair of laser bolt cutters from a toolbox Jensen had left at some stage. If only she could have found something so easily a few moments ago before Varean had needed to dislocate his shoulder to escape. With a few quick snaps, the chains fell to the deck with a clank.

  “Now for your shoulder,” she said as she dropped the cutters back into the toolbox.

  Varean clenched his jaw and nodded, stepping forward to brace himself against the back of an empty chair, exactly in the stance she’d been about to direct him.

  “Something tells me this isn’t the first time you’ve had a dislocated shoulder.”

  She moved up beside him, gently shifting his arm out and away from his body so she could work the joint back into place.

  He gave a single nod. “First time I put it out was in basic training. Ever since then, the damn thing has never been the same. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to put it back in. At least this time I’ve got someone else to do it for me.”

  She winced at the image of him popping his own dislocated shoulder back in. Not many people would have been able to do that successfully.

  “Okay, then you know the drill.” She set her hand against his skin, still slightly damp from the heat of the engines in the brig. “I don’t suppose there’s any point asking if you
want some pain relief before we do this?”

  He glanced back at her, a glint of amusement in his gaze as though she’d made a joke instead of a sensible suggestion.

  “Let’s just get it done.”

  “Fine. You want me to count it down?” She tightened her hold, manipulating the muscles in the top of his shoulder with firm fingers.

  “No, just—”

  With her other hand just above his biceps, she squeezed with a gentle but forceful pressure, and the joint put itself back into place.

  “Is that it?” Varean’s brow creased as he straightened, rotating the arm with a mystified expression. “That didn’t hurt at all.”

  She sent him an exasperated look before turning to her medical bags. “If it’s done properly, it’s not supposed to hurt. You macho guys who are always going around shoving the joint back in are probably only doing yourselves more damage.”

  Unfastening the nearest bag, she rummaged around until she came up with a sling, but even as she turned to Varean, he was shaking his head.

  “I don’t need a sling, it’s fine.” He slipped past her and disappeared into the privy, clearly dodging any more doctoring on her behalf.

  With an annoyed sigh, she tossed it back into the recess. She couldn’t even be bothered arguing and, from what she’d learned of him, it wouldn’t get her anywhere.

  “How long until we get to Barasa?” She dropped into the seat Varean had been leaning against.

  “Two days,” Lianna replied in a short tone.

  Great. Being stuck on the Imojenna with all the crew for days and weeks and months on end sometimes grated, but at least they each had their own space when they needed it. Onboard this shuttle, where there was virtually no privacy, the next two days were going to drag.

  But at least she’d gotten Varean off the ship. She glanced over her shoulder to where the case with the blood samples peeked out from beneath the haphazardly tossed sling. When they got to Barasa, maybe she needed to call on some contacts of her own, see if she couldn’t get into a lab and learn the answers she’d promised.

  Chapter Twelve

  Varean shifted in his seat, an ache echoing through his recently dislocated shoulder as he tried to get comfortable. They’d been on this shuttle for nearly a day, and while maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, everyone had been pretty civilized toward him. No guessing needed, to know it would have been an entirely different story if that gorilla had been on this skimmer with him.

  Kira had volunteered to take dead watch, since she’d gotten a few hours of sleep right before they’d abandoned ship. The others had all retreated into the back section of the shuttle a while ago and pulled narrow bunks down along the bulkheads. He probably should have done the same, but didn’t want to make the displaced crew of the Imojenna feel like they had to sleep with one eye open because the guy they’d been keeping chained was now their bunk-buddy. Plus, his mind was working itself over, so even if he had gotten horizontal, he doubted he would have found himself hitting the sleep zone.

  Because he had a decision to make. Now he was off the Imojenna and away from the frecking deranged captain and his leashed muscle, escaping would be that much easier. When they reached Barasa, he could easily overpower Tannin, Lianna, Zahli, or all three of them, to make his getaway. He didn’t think Kira would get in his way, so he didn’t count her in his liberation scenarios.

  The problem was, while he came up with some damned entertaining ways to set himself free, he’d failed to come up with a next step. He couldn’t return to the commando military base on Yarina.

  If he believed what Kira had told him, the Swift Brion and the entire crew had gone AWOL, because apparently half the universe was being run by shape-shifting aliens. Could he make the choice to defect and rejoin the ship? But Rian Sherron was all buddy-buddy with Captain Admiral Graydon, so if Sherron wanted to go round two with him about getting those damn questions answered, it would be too easy for the guy to find him if he went back to his berth on the flagship.

  Outside of the military he had absolutely nothing, leaving him with nowhere to go and nothing to do. And if that wasn’t one mother of a depressing realization, then call him a son of a bitch for a month of Sundays.

  He dragged a hand down his face and closed his eyes; a stress headache began to pound his skull like it was roadkill. Exhaustion finally caught up with him, and he slipped into a doze. After the last hallucination while he’d been chained up in the bridge—they weren’t dreams, not when he was so conscious of everything happening—he’d tried to keep himself awake as long as possible. Christ, even recalling them made his guts churn.

  That new vicious part of himself had gotten a foothold and twisted every good thought he had about Kira. Not only had he hurt her, he’d enjoyed doing it. Now, more than ever, he feared if or when he snapped like he had when Callan attacked him, Kira would be the one to get hurt, and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

  And the thought had stuck in the back of his mind like a burr—what if Sherron had been right, and at some stage, the Reidar had done something to him without his knowledge or recollection? The notion was beyond horrifying.

  As the doze inevitably dragged him into the not-quite reality, he cut off all thoughts of Kira, pretended like he didn’t know her, like she didn’t exist, if only to save a repeat of the last abhorrent visions.

  It seemed to work, because this time he simply got dragged into some kind of disconnected narration, flashing pictures of people and places he’d never known, but were inherently familiar. As always, that distant blue star hovered, and though this time it seemed closer and brighter, he didn’t bother trying to pursue it. Voices ebbed and flowed around him, and, while he didn’t understand a word of what they were saying, he got the sense the translation was just waiting to burst free from the depths of his mind.

  A familiar, quiet voice called his name, a hand touched his arm, and he instinctively reached down and clamped on, twisting the grip off and away. The low, startled gasp yanked him out of the trance, and he blinked open his eyes to find Kira crouched in front of him, frozen to the spot and regarding him with a wary gaze.

  He straightened in his seat, abruptly releasing his grasp once he realized he had a too-tight hold on her wrist, a surge like lava ripping through his body. Jezus. Had he hurt her?

  She rubbed at the red marks on her skin as she shifted back, but before she could get too far, he landed a hand on her shoulder to stop her escaping.

  “Let me see.”

  For a second she cradled her arm against her lower ribs, but then slowly extended her hand again, turning her wrist upward so the light caught the already-bruising fingerprints he’d left on her flesh.

  “Damn it to hell, I’m sorry. I was asleep—”

  “So I noticed,” she returned in a dry voice, not sounding the least bit upset. “It’s not your fault. I should have known better than to grab a sleeping commando. But stage-whispering your name wasn’t working, and I didn’t want to wake the others by yelling.”

  “Next time try dumping a bucket of water on my head and stay out of reaching distance.” He traced the marks with a light finger, wishing he could take the bruises back, guilt stabbing a wide hole right through the middle of his conscience.

  “So, what were you dreaming about? The confusing ones you mentioned before?” She moved to sit on the seat next to him.

  “Honestly? It was all a jumble, and I couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying.”

  “Kind of like I couldn’t understand a word you were saying?”

  A jab of trepidation stuck him, like he’d taken a hit from one of Sherron’s alien stunners. “What do you mean?”

  “You were speaking a language I’ve never heard before, repeating the same few words over and over. It sounded something like kei n’sum sicurua.” Kira shrugged one shoulder, the motion careless, but her guarded gaze told an entirely different story.

  “I don’t understand,” he blurted out automatically.


  “Neither do I,” Kira replied.

  “No, I mean those words. What you said. It means I don’t understand.”

  But how did he know that? Until now, he hadn’t been able to comprehend a single syllable of the weird language. But it was like his brain had finally rebooted, and words and phrases poured into his mind, translating until he understood everything.

  A secondary rush of uneasiness caught him, trapping the breath in his lungs. “What the hell is happening to me?”

  Kira leaned forward, reaching out to take his hand, fierce determination in her gaze.

  “I don’t know, but I want to help you find out.” She shifted closer, glancing to where the others were sleeping then returning her attention to him. “Listen, I can guess what you’ve been thinking since we left the Imojenna.”

  “Oh yeah?” He shot her a half smile, totally believing every word. Of course she knew what he was thinking—the woman was nothing if not scary-smart.

  She sent him a small frown, as if not impressed with his smart-assery. “It’s kind of obvious, cowboy. Anyone with half a brain would have to know you’re planning on hightailing it outta here as soon as we hit dirt on Barasa. I know you’ve got no reason to trust us—”

  “Them. I don’t trust them.”

  She blew out a short breath, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Okay, then, maybe you’ll take what I have to say into consideration.”

  “I’m listening.” He might as well hear her out. If anything, the last twenty-four hours had made him realize he sure as shite didn’t have any better prospects for now.

  “When we get to Barasa, instead of running off at the first opportunity, I want you to come with me. I’ve still got a few contacts in the medical community, and I’d like to see if we can get ourselves into a proper lab or hospital to run those blood samples I took. See if we can get an answer to some of your mysteries.”

  Most of them weren’t mysteries as far as he was concerned, just an aspect of himself that he’d spent his whole life running from. But this new, appalling facet of ruthless aggression was something he’d never guessed he might possess. Added to the strange waking-dreams and the language that’d basically just downloaded itself into his brain, then perhaps it was time to stop running and face his heritage—whatever that may be.