Outer Bounds: Fortune's Rising

by King, Sara

  “Believe me now?” the Nephyr asked softly, looking down at her.

  Magali looked down at the tip of the wand, which was only an inch from his body, then up at him. She swallowed, considering. “You were taken from Six Bears?” she managed.

  “South end of the Tear,” he agreed.

  “And your name is Jersey?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you want out.”

  His smile was tortured. “Yeah.”

  Magali scanned his blue-green eyes for several moments, searching. Then, swallowing, she said, “Gimme the drill.”

  Jersey’s face melted with relief, then he turned and plucked the tools from the bed. He carried them into the bathroom with him, dropped onto his knees, and, setting the roll of items beside him, stretched out on his stomach on the tiles. “In case there’s blood to clean up,” he said, as he put his hands behind his head and laced his fingers against his glittering scalp.

  In case there’s blood… Magali heard his skin clank like stone against the tile floor as he settled himself, and she suppressed a shudder. That’s a Nephyr, she thought. I’m sharing a hotel room with a Nephyr.

  …a Nephyr that had given her an EMP device and was waiting for her to cut his ties to the Coalition. Magali swallowed and shut off the wand. Reluctantly, she set it down on the bed beside the darkened r-player and went to join him.

  She eased her way gingerly into the room with him and carefully lowered herself to the tiles beside the roll of tools. With trembling fingers, she found the drill.

  “You’re not gonna bring the wand?” he asked the floor.

  She froze.

  “Never mind!” he said quickly. “I’ll keep my big mouth shut, okay? Just please keep going. Please. I don’t have a lot of time left.”

  Magali hesitated another moment, the drill shivering in her hands. Then, very carefully, she set the drill tip against the glittering back of his neck and said, “You got a good bit on this thing?”

  “Diamond tip,” he said.

  “And you know not to move, right?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Good.” Magali took a deep breath, then sat up and put her body-weight behind the drill and switched it on. Under her, the Nephyr grunted, but didn’t try to move. “Okay,” Magali said, under the grinding buzz of the bit as it started to react with the Nephyr’s skin, “the trick is gonna be stopping once I get through the skin, before I puncture the spine.”

  “I hope it’s not too much of a trick,” he said, with a nervous laugh.

  “You’ll be fine,” Magali said, “I’ve always been good at this.” The drill was, as advertised, strong enough to slowly start piercing the liquid-energy plating of the Nephyr’s skin.

  Jersey looked thoughtful as he stared at the floor. “You’ve had practice, then?”

  “Sure,” Magali said, as she worked.

  “On who?”

  “People who are dead now,” Magali replied.

  “Ah.” He seemed to consider that. “Hopefully, their deaths were not an unfortunate result of the procedure.”

  “Eh,” Magali said, shrugging. “Milar got ‘em to himself for a few days afterwards, so you could say that.”

  He scanned the tile a moment, then said, “Anything you’d like to talk about? This is creeping me the hell out. A distraction would be nice.”

  “The less you talk, the less I want to kill you.”

  The Nephyr went silent a moment, listening to the grinding whine of the drill piercing the back of his neck. “I would’ve thought that would be the other way around,” he finally offered softly.

  Magali snorted. “You guys can lie as easily as you can breathe.”

  “That much is true,” Jersey said.

  “Not even going to deny it?” Magali demanded.

  “Miss,” Jersey said, “in order to survive the Academy, you have to learn to lie. It’s part of coping.”

  “Coping.” Magali gave a bitter laugh and shoved the bit a bit deeper than she needed to before she retracted it. “Sure it is.” She retrieved the bit and, before the wound could close, grabbed the surgical spreaders and stuck them into the wound, then started ratcheting it wider, exposing the red muscles underneath.

  “The big trick,” the Nephyr said, “is keeping them from realizing you’re lying about being just like them. That’s where like ninety-nine percent screw up and get caught. Then it’s over for ‘em.”

  “Didn’t I tell you to stop talking?” Magali demanded, as she grabbed a scalpel and started peeling the tissue away from the glistening lump of steel in his spine.

  The Nephyr’s breath caught as she began cutting. “See, they don’t let you out of the Academy until they’re sure you’re as screwed up as they are.”

  “Your lips are still moving,” Magali growled, exposing the lifeline.

  “That’s where most of them go wrong. They pretend to be like their instructors, doing all that psychotic crap, thinking that they can change back, once training is over. But between the lack of sleep and the terror, it sinks in.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Nephyrs,” Magali growled, wiping the blood away from the thumb-sized device. “I need to concentrate and I hate Nephyrs.”

  “Sorry,” the Nephyr said. He went quiet.

  Magali tugged the two halves of the capsule apart, exposing its innards. The Nephyr flinched at the click, his entire body going rigid.

  Magali hesitated, eying the battery cap. “You know I could kill you, right?”

  A pause.

  “Just fidget with it and leave it to self-detonate. You’d never know the difference.”

  For a long moment, he stared at the tile. “Probably not,” he agreed softly.

  “Now I’ve got it open, it’s gonna explode in thirty seconds if I don’t disarm it,” Magali said. Then, when he said nothing, she added with a sneer, “Just pop off your glittering head, leave it for your psychotic friends to find, next time they go looking for a colonist to fuck, how would you like that?”

  The Nephyr continued to stare at the tiles. “Now who’s playing mind-games?” he whispered.

  Every muscle in Magali’s body suddenly went stiff with shame. She looked away. It was true. In all the hours since he’d dragged her off the banks of the Snake, fed her, clothed her, and given her a place to sleep, he hadn’t played a single mind game. In the long silence that followed, she watched blood well up around the lifeline. Then, reluctantly, she said, “Fine. But you ever lie to me or try to screw with my head, you’re dead.”

  For a long moment, the Nephyr just looked at the grout under his nose as the seconds ticked away. Then, very quiet, he said, “Sounds fair to me.”

  She reached in with a screwdriver and twisted the little black ball of the battery cap until it popped free. Then she grabbed the device with pliers and began, very slowly, easing the four long wires out of the man’s spine and brainstem. Once it was free, she threw it aside, where it detonated against the bathtub.

  For a long time afterwards, the Nephyr continued to stare at the floor, unmoving. Then, slowly, he unclasped his hands, reached behind him, yanked the spreaders from his neck, and dropped them to the floor. Muscles bunching, he got to his feet with a smooth, eerie grace as the glittering skin sealed along his spine. When he turned to look at her, Magali was stunned to see tears. He turned to stare at the scorch-mark in the porcelain bathtub for several long heartbeats as she huddled against the wall in silence. Then, without another word, he turned away from her and strode from the room. Magali jumped when she heard the outer door thump shut behind him.

  Magali let the drill slide from her fingers, biting her lip. What she had just done was…

  …horrible. Evil.

  She thought about that for several minutes, watching the closed door, as tears came unbidden. What had happened to her? Had she really changed that much? That she would taunt a helpless man?

  Never in the past would she even have considered herself capable of what she had just don
e. It was loathsome. Repulsive. Disgusting.

  She had to make it right. She had to explain…

  …But explain what? That she had changed? That he looked like Steele? Did that matter? In some deep part of her core, she had the odd realization that she could not stand the thought of the Nephyr hating her. And, even worse, she had the strong feeling that, unless she found him quickly, he probably wasn’t coming back.

  Anna wouldn’t have cared if he never came back. Anna would have taken his stuff and slipped off into the slums to sell it so she could get on with her life.

  Unsteadily, Magali got to her feet, knowing she had to find him. His belongings were scattered across the bed and in duffels against the wall, but she had the feeling that wouldn’t matter. She felt a need to find him, to tell him, to apologize…

  She hesitated a few more minutes, looking down at his abandoned possessions, then nervously grabbed the EMP wand from the bed and stuffed it back into its slim metal tube before she tucked it into her pocket and followed the Nephyr out of the room. She had been wrong in what she had done, but she had promised herself she was never going to be caught off-guard again. Never.

  Killer, Wideman giggled.

  Shut the hell up, old man, Magali thought back.

  She wasn’t sure how she knew where to find him, but Magali went outside, ignoring the hotel supervisor who greeted her as ‘the Nephyr’s missus,’ and crossed the street to the little pub where she knew the Nephyr waited.

  Sure enough, the Nephyr sat in a dark, abandoned corner of the bar, the rest of the patrons giving him a wide berth. Absolute silence had descended on the place, and most of the customers were watching him with outright hostility. He had a tall drink in front of him, probably on the house. He was slumped forward in silence, staring at it. His eyes flickered to her tiredly as she slid into the booth beside him, then went back to his beer.

  A long moment passed in silence, neither of them speaking. Magali watched a droplet of condensation slide down the glass and puddle on the table. Then, haltingly, Magali put the unmarked EMP tube on the table in front of them, where he could see it, then slowly pushed it across the table, out of her reach. Heart pounding, she reached out and touched his stony hand where it rested on his thigh. When he didn’t jerk it away, just glanced down at where their skin touched, she curled her fingers around his and gave a gentle tug.

  Looking up at her in confusion, Jersey allowed her to pull his arm around her in an awkward embrace. Magali levered his arm over her shoulder, then forced herself to stay there, fighting down the carnal urge to bolt at the glass-hard feel of his body against hers. It was the only apology she could think of, and it had been delivered to her, not an hour before.

  After a moment of watching her face, the Nephyr’s arm tightened around her, locking her in his grip, cinching her to the side of his big body with the hydraulic power of a machine. Magali felt a spasm of panic and her breath caught, her heart hammering like bullets against her ribs, but she viciously forced herself not to shiver. After a moment, Jersey turned back to look at the beer. Once she managed to convince herself he wasn’t going to simply tighten his arm and crush all of her ribs, spine, and scapulas, Magali followed his gaze.

  Together, they watched the condensation form on the outside of his glass, listening as the other patrons of the bar spoke in hushed tones or got up to leave. After what seemed like an eternity, Magali slowly began to relax in his grip.

  “My skin’s in storage in the Inner Bounds,” Jersey eventually said to the glass.

  …Which meant, now that he’d removed his lifeline, he would never get it back.

  “I’m sorry,” Magali whispered.

  He just frowned and gave a slight shake of his head, eyes still on the water droplets. “It was my fault. I should’ve waited. Served out my term and just gone back and gotten discharged. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I needed out. I was starting to break. I could feel it.” He took a deep breath, then let it out very slowly. “The Forty-Third is…” his voice cracked and he trailed off.

  He stared at the glass and was still for so long that Magali started to wonder if he would continue. Finally, he said, “They made me do things…” He trailed off in a whisper and, swallowing, he closed his eyes.

  “You had to.”

  Jersey flinched and Magali caught a glimpse of agony before he turned his face away from her. For a moment, he just sat there in silence, not looking at her. “Things like what happened to you,” he finally told the tabletop.

  Magali felt her body stiffen, felt the bile at the back of her throat as she again felt the urge to scrabble out of his inhuman grip, but she forced herself to not cringe away from him. “You had to,” she whispered again, stronger than she felt.

  “No I didn’t,” he said, with vehemence. “I was a coward. I could’ve let them kill me.”

  She digested that a moment. “If you had let them kill you,” Magali finally said, “we wouldn’t have been able to save each other.”

  He glanced at her briefly before he turned back to the beer and was silent for a long moment. He took an unsteady breath, and his voice seemed to quaver. “I’ve been struggling for weeks and I almost lost it today. I never thought a colonist…” He swallowed and started scratching his artificial fingernail into the wooden tabletop. “Let my guard down. Just assumed you’d…” His voice again started to crumble. “…want to help me.”

  Again, Magali fought a sickly flood of shame. “You don’t have to keep your guard around me,” she promised. “I won’t do it again.”

  She heard an explosive sound escape him, almost a wail, and the Nephyr hung his head, touching his glass-hard brow to the table beside his hand. She felt his body start to shake.

  After a few minutes, Jersey glanced at her, tears once again wetting his eyes. “Can I call you Mag?” There was so much yearning in that single sentence, such need…

  Seeing the bare sincerity, there, knowing that there was no way to fake such genuine anguish, she forced out, “Sure.”

  “Can I…stay…with you for awhile, Mag?” he said softly, raw, wretched hope straining his face. Then, quickly, he added, “Just as friends. I won’t hurt you. I’ll keep my distance unless you tell me. I just need some…time…with a real person.”

  Magali had never considered spending any more time with the Nephyr than necessary, and every ounce of her being stiffened at the thought. He looked genuine, but… What if he changes his mind? she thought, anxiety spilling acid into her system. Anna changed her mind. All the time. Whenever it suited her.

  He judged her reaction correctly, and agony tore at his face. “Please,” he whispered. “I’m so tired of being…” He swallowed and looked up at the empty bar.

  Alone, Magali thought, following his gaze. Everyone was gone, even the barkeep. The entire place was silent. She swallowed, imagining the solitude in being so despised. “You can stay,” she said softly. It was all she could say.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. It came out as a moan. “Thank you so much.” He ducked his forehead into the crux of her shoulder and started to sob, and Magali realized, for the first time, that this creature had been broken a thousand times more cruelly than she ever had been. She put her hand around his inhumanly hard fingers and squeezed.

  * * *

  “I love all the exposure this is getting,” Anna said, stuffing another potato chip into her mouth as she watched the three-day dogfight over the Tear. “I mean, it’s kinda hard for them to hide there’s a Rebellion now. Look at it. They’ve thrown like, what, forty soldiers at that TAG alone?”

  “The tipoff to the media was a brilliant move on your part, Anna,” Doberman said.

  “Of course it was,” Anna replied, eating another potato-chip. “What’s important, now, is that people know. It’s no longer something whispered about in dark alleys and in the back corners of bars. People know. They’re gonna be talking about it. Discussing it. Wondering. Planning.”

  “The seeds have been planted,
it would seem,” Doberman replied.

  “I hope that TAG pilot survives,” Anna said, thoughtfully crunching another chip. “I’d like to meet him.”

  “I doubt the sentiment is mutual,” Doberman said.

  Anna laughed. “Are you still upset about what I did to that operator brat?”

  “I did find it unnecessarily brutal,” Doberman replied.

  Anna snorted and waved a dismissive hand. “We needed her to scream.” She ate another chip, returning her attention to the screen. “I made her scream.”

  She was glued to the firefight for three more hours, until the last operator spun back to earth in a powerful explosion, with only Captain Eyre and the TAG pilot still in the sky.

  Anna grinned. “Oh good. They won. That’ll look great on the news.”

  Then Captain Eyre’s ship hurtled out of the clouds to make a sudden, rough landing in the jungle at the tip of the Tear. Anna frowned and sat up, learning forward. “I’ll be damned,” Anna said, as if she could not believe it. “She’s stupider than I thought.”

  “She does have a history of mental trauma concerning enclosed spaces,” Dobie replied. “And, more recently, sociopathic little girls with surgical implements, if I am to guess.”

  Anna snickered. “Not for long.” She grabbed the ovular little device from where Doberman had left it on her dresser.

  “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” Doberman asked.

  Anna snorted and pressed the pink button. “I told her to stay away from Milar.” Then, yawning, she tossed the device into the trash. “Never really intended to let her live, anyway.” Finishing out the chips and crumpling the bag into a wad, she tossed it in after the device. Then she glanced up at him, catching his stare. “Oh, I’m sorry, did that just disturb you, Dobie?” she jeered.

  “I find myself less disturbed than one might expect,” Doberman replied.

  Anna snorted. “Little twit had it coming. She was way outta her league with him. And even an idiot could see he was obsessed with those pictures, but nobody was willing to do anything about it.” She took a chug of bottled water and tipped it at him. “So I did something about it.” Then she cocked her head in a frown. “She did good with the soldiers, though. I thought we might be able to get one last use out of her, before we got rid of her.”