by Zen DiPietro
Maybe it didn’t make sense, and maybe it was even wrong, but Em didn’t give a damn. The connection between them was all she knew of that was truly real, and for the moment, it was all that mattered.
Em closed the space between them, reaching for her wife.
“Comfortable?” Brannin asked. He’d cleared the infirmary for the procedure, ensuring that only he, Brak, Jerin, and Em would be present.
“No. I’m lying on a techbed, waiting for you to dig into my brain.” If anything was going to make Em uncomfortable, surely brain surgery would be it.
“Try to relax.” Jerin’s voice came from behind her, where she couldn’t see. With Em’s head and neck secured, she couldn’t turn. Nor should she, since they were mapping her brain to prepare for cutting into it. Em was trying to be stoic, but her stomach felt like it was full of acid.
“Right. I’ll just enjoy the time off work.” Em wiggled her toes. At least she still had domain over those. She stared up at the ceiling, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. An existence of perpetual migraines wouldn’t be much of a life.
Brannin’s fingers slid between hers. He had strong, steady hands. Warm. Comforting. “Don’t worry, Chief. Brak’s the best at what she does, and she and Jerin make a great team. I’m going to stay right here and let you know what’s happening as we go along.”
“Thanks, Doc.” She cut her eyes to the side to get a look at him, sitting on a stool alongside the techbed.
She felt a light pressure on her head.
“They’re removing a small portion of your hair at the entry point to ensure precision. But they’ll regrow that afterward and you’ll never know the difference,” Brannin told her. She was glad he was the one talking to her. He had a lovely voice.
“That’s a relief. You know my looks are my top priority.”
Brannin and Jerin both chuckled.
A few long moments later, the pressure stopped and Jerin said, “Now I’m going to administer a mild anesthetic to the incision area. I’m afraid we can’t do anything for the pain of the regrowth.”
“I understand.”
Brannin’s other hand came up, sandwiching both of hers between his. It must be go time.
“They’re going to make the incision in your scalp, then put a tiny puncture in your skull to reach the brain tissue,” Brannin said.
“I probably would have been happy living my entire life without ever having someone say that to me,” she answered.
He patted her hand. She lay there, waiting for the pain to start.
“Okay. They’re about to begin. I’m going to let go now, and activate the restraints, but I’ll be right here beside you the whole time.”
She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Are the restraints necessary?”
“Yes. We can’t risk having you move.” Brannin tapped the techbed controls and she felt an invisible pressure immobilize her. Essentially, restraints were a small-scale force field. Undamaging but unyielding. She could blink and speak and breathe, but that was about it.
Brak’s voice reached her ears. “This will take five to ten minutes. Hang in there, and remember, it will end.”
She meant well. She certainly didn’t mean to scare the scrap out of Em. She gritted her teeth. “Let’s get to it.”
The pain sliced into her head almost immediately. Like a lightning bolt burning into her brain. She clamped her lips together and focused her entire being on not making a sound. She shrank herself down to just that, just silence. Just enduring.
Time stretched. Became endless. Until suddenly the pain stopped. Poof, just like that. Like an infoboard turning off. She opened her eyes and the universe coalesced around her. She took a breath.
Brannin stood over her. “How are you?”
She tried to put a hand to her brow, but her body was immobilized. “Still breathing.” She licked her lips. “How did we do?”
“It went well.” Brak’s voice drifted to her ears. “The tissue was healthy and responsive. We’re going to heal up your incision and then we’ll just have to wait and see.”
When Brannin offered his hand to help her stand up from the table, it all felt oddly anticlimactic to her.
“That’s it?” she asked. It seemed odd that they’d just let her walk right out. She felt almost disappointed that Brannin didn’t want to keep her in the infirmary, running a constant stream of tests on her.
“That’s it,” he confirmed. “I want you to take it easy today though. You can go to work if you want, but no strenuous activity. No banging your head into anything.”
“I’ll have to cancel my afternoon bash-my-head-against-the-wall session. Pity.” She rolled her shoulders. She felt a little tired, but otherwise not too bad.
Brannin just smirked. Brak and Jerin joined him, facing her. Em made eye contact with Brak, but the Briveen looked consummately professional. Em would have to try to talk to her privately later to see if she had discovered anything while poking about in her gray matter.
Brannin brought a cup of biogel and handed it to her. “Before you go.”
“Why do I need this?” She peered at the colorless liquid.
“A cup of biogel never hurts. Actually, I’d prescribe one a day for everyone on the station if I thought they’d listen.”
“They wouldn’t,” Em assured him. Jerin laughed. Em shrugged and downed the cup. Other than an almost antiseptic tang, it had no flavor. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but not many people would down a cup of that without a doctor staring at them. She set the cup on the techbed. “I guess I’m off to work, then.”
Brak advised, “Take it easy, like Brannin said. And try to get to bed early. You’re bound to be very tired by day’s end. Check in if you have any head pain whatsoever. Or blurred vision, dizziness, or confusion. Anything unusual.”
“Right.” She still felt strange about going to work right after brain surgery, but whatever. She felt strange about a lot of things these days.
Em strode from the lift to her office, only to falter when she saw Wren sitting in front of the office door. Wren’s pinched face angled upward, searching Em for signs of damage.
“Ah, Love.” Em sat right there, in the hallway, and pulled Wren into her arms. “I’m sorry.”
Wren wrapped her in a nearly crushing hug, surprising Em with a strength she hadn’t realized her wife had. She held Wren close, letting her burrow into her neck. For a moment. Then Wren pushed her back and glared.
“You did that all wrong!”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Em had no excuses. She’d been focused on her own concerns, and while protecting Wren ranked high among them, she hadn’t accurately anticipated how upset Wren would be.
“I should have been there. I’m your wife, dammit!” A tear leaked out of the corner of Wren’s eye and she dashed it away angrily.
“Not for the surgery,” Em disagreed gently. “None of us wanted you to see that, including the doctors. But I should have had you there, so you could come in right after. I messed it up.”
“You messed it up big. Don’t even think about trying something like that again. I don’t care what the doctors say. I can dismantle any bloody doorway on this station. Got it?” Wren’s voice rose as she talked, ending in a shout.
“I got it. Message received. I’m sorry.” She reached for Wren again, both of them still on the floor outside her office. Em didn’t even care if someone happened by and saw. All that mattered was erasing the hurt and fear from Wren’s face.
Wren leaned against her, breathing in harsh bursts. Em rubbed her back in slow circles. When she felt Wren’s heartbeat slow, she stood and tugged Wren up to her feet. “Let’s go sit on the couch.”
She did her security sweep as quickly as she could, then sat next to Wren.
“Are you okay? Your brain’s not even more messed up, is it?” Wren walked an interesting line between concerned and insulting.
“I feel fine so far. We just wait and see now.”
Wren huff
ed out an annoyed breath. “That’s all we do anymore. Wait. Hope. I want to…” She held out her hands, opening and closing them as if grasping for something. “Do something. Have some sort of effect on what’s happening to us.”
“Yeah. I get that. I feel the same way.” Em wanted a target, a task, something tangible that she could focus on and get done. She was tired of being in this passive position of not knowing.
She could at least stop being a bad wife. She had that much in her power. She didn’t know how Wren would react to the truth, though, or if telling her might put her in more danger. Em might regret it later, but she was sick of waiting around and letting unknown forces shape her life. At the least, she could take control of her personal life. For better or for worse.
“About what’s happening to us,” Em began. “There’s more to it, and I hate keeping it from you.”
She spilled it all out, in rapid fire. Blackout. Her suspicions about the accident. The signal relay she would build and dismantle twice a day, hoping for some hint of what to do next. And her investigation of Wren. Maybe it was the wrong decision, and maybe it would put them both in danger. But Em could only work with what she had and she didn’t want to lie to Wren anymore.
Wren sat, back straight, as she took it all in. Her pale skin had lost its rosy glow and her mouth had set in a tight line. She blinked slowly as she processed it all.
“Is our marriage real?” she finally asked.
“As far as I’m concerned, yes. Absolutely. I love you. I don’t know how it all started, but I hope to Prelin that it was always as real as it is right now.”
Wren didn’t react. “And you have no idea why you were sent to investigate me? Doesn’t seem like I could do anything to warrant Blackout’s attention.”
“No. Just that there were concerns of smuggling.”
“I see.” She stood, and Em did the same. Wren’s eyes didn’t quite meet hers, and Em wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake. “I’m going to go. I need time to think about all this.”
“Okay. I…” No, she wouldn’t repeat herself. She’d already declared her feelings. The rest was up to Wren. “Okay.”
She resisted the urge to touch Wren as she walked out the door, knowing it wasn’t wanted. After the door swished closed, she walked to her desk and sat.
She’d thought brain surgery would be the most painful part of her day. She’d been wrong.
Em’s mind wasn’t on her work. She ran through the routine checks and protocols just fine, but her thoughts kept returning to Wren. There just wasn’t enough going on to keep her fully occupied.
She pushed away from her desk. She had just endured brain surgery. Surely that was a decent excuse for missing half a day of work. She’d remain on call, just in case anything significant happened. As she engaged the security on her office, her only problem was what to do with the next several hours.
She considered having Arin meet her in the gym for sparring. As long as she ruled out any head shots, she wouldn’t be in danger, and physical activity seemed the perfect antidote to mental disarray. Plus, with luck, it would help her get to sleep that night. But as proficient as Arin was, he was nowhere near her combat level. She had to pull her punches too much to spar with him.
An idea occurred to her and she pulled out her comport.
Twenty minutes later, she stood in the sparring ring with her guard up, strafing around the most formidable opponent Dragonfire had to offer at the moment.
Brak let out a sighing growl, as if deeply satisfied. At least that was how Em interpreted it. A young sysops lieutenant in Em’s peripheral vision twitched and turned around to look at Brak with anxious eyes.
Em made a snorty sound of amusement, and Brak’s head tilted in a way that said she also found it funny.
“You’re sure you’re up to this?” the Briveen asked, adjusting her position each time Em sidestepped.
“If there were a good reason why I shouldn’t be, you’d have said so already.” She felt perfectly fine, physically. Brak had already told her that she hadn’t found anything unexpected in Em’s brain.
“We’re both going to be in trouble with Brannin,” Brak warned.
Em grinned, feinting as if she were going to hit Brak, but quickly dodging to the left instead, looking for an opening. “Oh, I have no doubt of that. But I find I like your flying-by-the-seat-of-your-pants approach. I think we have a lot in common.”
Brak’s chin came up and her head angled slightly. “My pants? Are these not typical sparring gear?” She didn’t drop her guard or her gaze. Smart woman.
Em snorted out a laugh. “It’s an old expression. It means making choices as you go along. Taking risks by not planning ahead.”
Brak pressed forward, forcing Em to step back. Brak definitely had the advantage in both size and strength. She topped Em’s height by a good six inches, and her naturally muscular lower body would make her kicks a force to reckon with. Plus, she had those arms. Those magnificent cybernetic arms that made Em almost a little envious.
Brak moved in with surprising speed and threw a punch at Em’s chest. Years of training clicked into place and instead of blocking the blow, Em dodged it and pivoted so she could use her entire body to follow through on Brak’s own momentum, pulling her off-balance.
That was exactly the opening she needed. Careful to stay out of the reach of those arms, Em launched a volley of punches at Brak’s chest and stomach. If she were really fighting, she’d go for the throat. A Briveen’s throat was her most vulnerable area. The scaly skin was thinnest there, and vital arteries and veins lay just beneath it.
Though her attention stayed focused on Brak, Em sensed a small crowd gathering. She didn’t care. Let them see what she could do. If someone in Blackout got wind of it and sent an op after her, all the better. At least that would be something.
Brak landed a punch on her solar plexus that took her breath, but she didn’t let it slow her down. She ducked out of Brak’s reach and got into position just in time to hit Brak hard in the small of the back. A lucky shot, but whatever. If Em hadn’t already known what she was capable of, she wouldn’t have even attempted to spar a Briveen. In all ways but one, she was outmatched. But that one way happened to be the finest training on this side of the galaxy, and Em was betting on that.
She felt all of that training in her blood. In her brain. She knew the counter footwork, knew how to block this type of hit or parry that kind. If she wanted to simply escape unscathed, she could evade all day long. A good tactic to tire out an opponent, but not helpful if she needed to take out a target fast.
She could fight expertly with a dozen different weapons, but she preferred this hand-to-hand showdown. It brought it all down to the basics. Down to keeping herself out of Brak’s reach, so Brak couldn’t use her strength against Em. And down to anticipating what Brak would do next based on the weight of her instep or the tilt of her shoulders. It was glorious. Em had never felt so magnificently alive. That she remembered, anyway.
Brak spun, a beautiful blur of power and color. Em dodged. Shifted her balance. Ducked and then bolted upright, using her entire body to slam into Brak’s shoulder and knock her off-balance. They traded punches.
Around and around they went. Hitting, twisting, dodging, sweating. Em’s entire being became nothing but the next attack, the next crushing blow against her own body, feeling like the bones must surely crack. And she loved it. More than she’d ever loved doing anything. She felt as if she’d been sleepwalking through life and now had suddenly awakened.
Finally, Brak stepped back against the edge of the ring, signaling the end of the fight. Honorably, Em did the same, retreating to the semi-flex barrier that ran the entire perimeter.
“Enough,” Brak said. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, which Em could relate to. “Good match.” She bowed.
Em returned the bow, just a touch deeper than Brak’s own, to honor Brak’s fantastic skill. Her own breath rushed in and out of her lungs. It seemed almost a
shame that all that gorgeous ability took a backseat to scientific work. Brak would have made a brilliant BlackOp.
Some cheers and shouts of appreciation came from the crowd. Em accepted a towel from the sysops lieutenant and wiped her face with it. She was drenched with sweat, and relished the feeling of all of her muscles singing with adrenaline and fatigue at the same time.
As she dropped her arm, she caught a glimpse of pink hair disappearing around the exit doors. Before she could be sure of what she’d seen, it was gone. The incident poked a hole into the balloon of her ebullience and she felt it slowly leaking out.
She paused on her way to the locker room to give thanks in return for compliments or pats on the back. Em was amused to note that Brak had earned herself a fan club. A group of officers ringed her, peppering her with praise and questions. Brak seemed surprised but pleased. Smiling, Em ducked into the locker room.
She took a very long hydro-shower, dialing the water up to nearly scalding and letting it work on her tight muscles. The physical activity had helped. She felt more at ease, in spite of being a bit battered. Her mind felt clearer too, as if opening herself up to her physical abilities had loosened a cork and let her thoughts flow, releasing pressure.
By the time she turned off the water, her body had begun to ache. Purple and magenta bruises mottled her shoulders, upper arms, chest, and ribs. The marks of a job well done, as far as she was concerned. But they’d only fester if she left them.
With her towel wrapped around her, she forayed deeper into the locker room, where she almost never went. A single regen-bed occupied the back room. Similar to a techbed in looks, it was sort of a watered-down version of one. It could run an auto-cycle to check for broken bones, dehydration, electrolyte imbalances, concussions, and the like. It would correct the minor conditions, and would alert the infirmary of the more serious ones.
Em dropped her towel and slid herself onto the bed. Her bare legs glided over the slightly sticky surface, but she didn’t feel cold. The regen-bed had already adjusted itself to her body temperature. She closed her eyes and let it do its work. It gave her audio updates of its progress and findings. Other than what it considered to be significant bruising, the regen-bed deemed her healthy. She lay peacefully while it soothed away the bruises.