Progenitor

by Cassandra Chandler

  “I don’t know,” Vaughn said. “I’ve read everyone’s psych profiles. I keep in touch with all the Blades. I can’t imagine anyone betraying us like this.”

  “What else could it be?”

  “In all the vastness of the universe, the odds of a spaceship crashing on Earth are infinitesimal,” Vaughn said. “We’ve kind of been making a big assumption, though.”

  “Which is?”

  “That my ship is the only one that crashed here. That it was alone.”

  Oh shit.

  Brock didn’t have to project the thought for his replicants to pick up on it. They were all still connected. He could feel their thoughts echoing back his own.

  “We need to get that collar out of here,” Zachary thought.

  “We need to get it off of Meg.” Brock was sure to put enough force in his projection that they knew he couldn’t be swayed. “Safely.”

  “How are we going to get the collar off of Meg?” Brock asked.

  “I have an idea. But, again…you’re not going to like it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Meg was just putting the last pin in her bun when someone knocked on the door. She jumped at the sound, wheeling around. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  “Come in,” she said.

  The door swung open. Dexter—maybe—stood in the hall. She couldn’t tell for sure who he was anymore. The cold malice she’d always sensed from him wasn’t there. She tried to catch his scent, but the bubble bath and shampoo she’d used masked it.

  “Dexter?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She dared to hope, and said, “Brock?”

  “Yeah.”

  Somehow, her heart actually managed to beat harder and faster. Her throat felt like it was collapsing under the weight of words she wanted to say, but couldn’t.

  Was he okay? Was he still himself after one of his replicants was almost taken over by that thing? Had they seen her message? Understood it?

  She kept her silence. Roy was still watching. Listening.

  “Can I come in?” Brock said.

  “Of course.”

  He stepped into her room and closed the door behind him. For a few moments, he just stared at her, a slight smile on his face as he took in the black boots, matching cargo pants, and black T-shirt she’d put on.

  “It suits you,” he said. “Dressing like a Blade.”

  “I thought you might like it if I did.”

  “I…” He cleared his throat and looked away. When his gaze landed on the pristinely made bed, it seemed to get stuck there. “Did you have a chance to rest?”

  “No, I wanted…” She didn’t know how to finish her sentence. There were so many things she wanted. They cluttered her mind, made it impossible to decide what to say.

  Was she imagining the heat in his gaze when their eyes met again? Her body responded as if it was real, lightning darting along her nerves in the best possible way, pooling in her belly.

  “Wanted what?” he said.

  “You.” The word slipped out, but she didn’t bother trying to correct herself this time.

  He stared at her for another moment, then strode up to her, barely slowing when he reached her. He grabbed her arms and pulled her against his chest, his lips slamming down on hers.

  His kiss was relentless, starving, and she matched it with a hunger that shocked her. The tenderness of his previous kisses was gone. All she felt was want. Need.

  The scent of his arousal bloomed around them, filling her senses, intoxicating her. She could have him. He could be hers.

  His tongue slid into her mouth, claiming her, marking her as his. She let out a moan as she rose to meet him, clawing at the back of his shirt.

  There was no space between them, just heat and hardness. His erection pressed against her stomach, setting off an ache deep in her belly that she couldn’t wait to satisfy. She pulled his shirt loose, then tried to work her hands between them to unfasten his pants.

  He broke off the kiss and stepped back, gripping her arms more tightly as he held her away.

  “Wait.” He shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “You don’t want this?”

  “I do, but—”

  “Then why shouldn’t we? I want you, too.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her.

  This time, she kissed him. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. She’d never initiated sex before.

  It felt too good to stop.

  She moved her lips to his jaw, gently biting his skin. “I want you, Brock. I want you.”

  It wasn’t even a lie. Roy would be pleased, but she didn’t give a damn. She just wanted her hands on Brock, his lips on hers. She ran her tongue over the smooth flesh of his neck.

  Except it wasn’t smooth. Not anymore.

  A chill ran down her spine as she remembered what had just happened to him. What had happened to this form, anyway.

  “I can’t do this.” Brock’s voice was barely above a whisper, but she could still hear the rasp of desire in it. “This isn’t my body.”

  He buried his face in her neck and wrapped his arms tight around her, holding her. Just holding her.

  She hugged him back. “I understand. I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

  “It’s kind of hard to think clearly when you’re near me like this,” Brock said. “It’s so tempting.”

  He pulled back from her, holding her face in his hands and studying it intently, like he was trying to memorize her features.

  “I want to touch you with my own hands,” Brock said. “To see you with my own eyes.”

  Her breath seemed to turn to ice in her chest. This was the opportunity she’d been sent here for. Get to Brock, the true head of the hydra. Help Roy get his revenge.

  She felt the collar start to crackle. Roy was listening. He was probably wondering why she wasn’t pushing the moment, trying to get Brock to let her come to him—to his real body.

  “Dexter would never allow it,” she said.

  “Dexter will do as I say.” There was a hardness to Brock’s tone. A finality.

  She remembered what Brock had done to Dexter and Porter back in the dining room. How Brock had punished them for hurting her.

  They had only been trying to keep Brock safe. And they were right. Meg was dangerous. She didn’t want to be, but she was.

  Once she was with Brock, she had no illusions about what would happen. If the collar was a bomb, it would detonate. Or if it was designed to shock others and not just Meg, Roy would use it to kill Brock.

  If she was alone with Brock, Roy would kill him, and that would destroy all of the others. It would end the Blades.

  They didn’t understand my message.

  Her vision blurred as tears sprang to her eyes. There was only one thing she could do. She had to warn him. Roy would kill her for it. He might even take out Dexter’s body as well, but not permanently. And Brock would be safe.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” she said.

  The collar flared up, sending arcs of pain through her neck. She could feel her skin burning, but pushed aside the pain. She had to force out the words, to let him know—

  “Hey, Megan.” The door to her room flew open. Vaughn was holding onto the knob. He looked surprised when he saw the pair of them, Brock’s shirt untucked, their arms still around each other. “Oh, sorry boss. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “It’s okay,” Brock said. “But knock next time.”

  The crackling of the collar subsided to a low buzz, but the muscles of her throat were still twitching from the current. She swallowed hard, trying to regain control enough to speak.

  “Sorry. I was just going to ask Megan if she wanted to keep me company while I make her feast of eggs.” Vaughn started backing out of the room. “I can see she’s busy, though.”

  “Wait a minute.” Brock stepped away from Meg and hastily tucked in his shirt. “I want to take Meg on a tour first.”

  “A tour?�
� Vaughn laughed, then looked up and down the hall. “I thought she’d already seen most of the ranch.”

  “I’m not talking about the ranch,” Brock said. “I’m talking about the sublevels. The caves.”

  Vaughn’s smile vanished. “I thought we’d agreed about this.”

  “She’s a Blade now.” Brock gestured to her outfit. “Just look at her.”

  “Wearing the outfit doesn’t mean she’s automatically one of us.” Vaughn quickly turned his gaze to Meg. “I mean, you are one of us. That doesn’t mean you’re ready for the caves, though.”

  Meg grabbed Brock’s arm. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. You don’t have to—”

  “Megan.” Brock interrupted her with a force that made her step back. He had never been so aggressive with her. He actually took a step forward, following her retreat. “This is about what we want. We only have a little over a day left to us. We will be together for it.”

  “But—”

  This time, he cut her off with another crushing kiss. He grabbed the back of her neck, his hand splayed over her collar, using it to keep her where he wanted her.

  He claimed her again, his tongue dominating hers, his free arm around her waist, pinning her to his body. He had said he wouldn’t cross a line while borrowing Dexter’s body, but this was just like what they’d done before.

  Except it wasn’t. The only “hardness” she felt was from the planes of his chest and abdomen. He was pressing his hips to her, but it was almost like he wanted her to know that he wasn’t aroused. His taste was different, and his scent had changed, too. The desire from earlier was transforming.

  Into fear.

  “Okay, that’s enough of that,” Vaughn said. “I’m leaving.”

  Brock ended the kiss, but kept staring into Meg’s eyes intently. Had they figured it out after all? Had they seen the message she’d been trying to send them?

  “No, you’re not,” Brock said. “We need you to take us through the decon room.”

  “Decon room?” Meg was struggling to catch her breath, but at least her throat was working again. Roy had turned off the current as well.

  “Decontamination,” Vaughn said. “Brock’s immune system is weakened. We all have to go through the decon room before visiting him.”

  She didn’t remember anyone mentioning that before, but wasn’t about to bring attention to it now. Brock gripped her elbow and started leading her from the room.

  “Vaughn doesn’t have to go with us, does he?” she asked.

  It was one thing to gamble with her own life and with Dexter’s, knowing that he’d survive…dying. But Vaughn was human. Whatever Roy had planned, she didn’t want Vaughn to get caught in the crossfire.

  “He needs to run the decon program,” Brock said.

  Vaughn fell in step beside them as they headed for the library. “I’m a multi-talented guy.”

  He was talented. Talented enough that she was sure any “decon program” he’d made could run itself.

  She was also sure that the others had gone down to Brock’s level while she and Vaughn were watching that movie. They hadn’t needed him to help prepare them for seeing Brock. She only hoped Roy didn’t figure that out.

  The bookshelf that hid the door to the elevator swung open as they approached. Vaughn was already tapping on his watch.

  Once she could see inside, her panic kicked up even higher. She had to keep Vaughn out of there. It was too much to risk his life.

  “Maybe we could do the eggs first,” Meg said. “I’m actually kind of hungry.”

  “We’ll deal with all our hungers soon.” Brock pushed her into the elevator. He pinned her in the back corner, hands against the wall on either side of her head.

  Vaughn darted in after them. “If you guys start making out again, I swear I’ll let the elevator drop us to our deaths.”

  “Said the only human in the room.” Brock smirked at Vaughn as the doors closed.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Meg said. She was running out of time. The elevator started to descend.

  “Meg.” Brock hooked his finger under her chin and brought her gaze up to meet his. That strange intensity was still in his eyes. “Trust us,” he said.

  She nodded, wanting to trust him, wanting to believe they knew the danger they were in. But if they did, why would they be taking her to Brock’s body? They should be trying to keep her away from him.

  The elevator slowed sooner than she expected. The doors opened on a long hallway with gunmetal gray walls, floor, and ceiling. The same color as the sublevel she had learned they called “the pit”.

  She hugged herself tightly and shook her head. “I don’t want to go out there.”

  “It’s okay,” Brock said.

  “No.” If she balked, maybe Brock would stay in the elevator with her and Vaughn would leave. She could quickly tell Brock everything, or try to make Roy mad enough to set off the collar. That way, Vaughn would survive.

  The collar crackled to life again, but this time, Roy wasn’t messing around. The charge streaked through her body, setting her nerves on fire. She felt like her teeth were about to explode. Her vision fogged as her tears turned to steam before they even had a chance to fall. Her eyes felt like they were boiling.

  Brock tried to catch her when her knees buckled, but the voltage flooded into him as soon as he touched her. She felt his body start to spasm from the electricity, both of them falling to the ground.

  “Shit,” Vaughn yelled. “Megan, we know the collar controls you.”

  For a split second, she felt hope. But then, Vaughn said, “You have to stop trying to change.”

  Her hands hit the floor. She looked down the long hallway. She had to get away from them.

  Slamming Brock with her shoulder, she knocked him loose from her, then forced her legs to propel her out of the elevator, half-leaping from all fours.

  She screamed, “Stay away from me,” as she staggered down the hall.

  By the time she reached the farthest end from the elevator, her skin was smoldering. She heard the whoosh of a door, and prayed it was the elevator closing as Vaughn and Brock headed for safety.

  Her prayers went unanswered. Black boots appeared in what was left of her field of vision just ahead of her. She felt a shiver down her spine and somehow knew who it was.

  Dexter.

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to listen to your doctor?” he said.

  Strong hands grabbed her arms, dragging her into the room in front of her. Who all was there?

  The doors whooshed shut behind her, and she heard the clack of something being attached to her collar. The current disappeared. She stayed on all fours, surrounded by dark forms she couldn’t identify.

  “Jesus, look at her neck,” Vaughn said.

  No, no…

  Vaughn was there? She couldn’t talk, couldn’t warn him to get away. Her throat felt like most of the flesh had been burned away.

  “Focus.” The coldness of the voice… That was Dexter.

  “There’s a lot riding on this.” The same voice, but different. Was that Brock? “This will help, but we need to move fast.”

  She heard the tsshh of a spray can and felt something hit her neck. The pain lessened.

  “Porter, I don’t know if I can do this,” Vaughn said.

  Porter was here? Porter and Dexter both?

  “Then tell us what to do.” Dexter’s voice was right at her ear.

  She let out a hacking cough, and somehow managed to say, “Run.” The word was barely recognizable, a wheezing rasp.

  “Don’t try to talk, Megan,” Vaughn said. “We’ve got you.”

  She tried to say, “No,” but nothing would come out.

  She could feel him doing something to her collar. Attaching things to it. Had they understood her message after all?

  “Everything’s on, but…” She could feel Vaughn’s hands shaking.

  “But what?” Dexter said.

  “We need to use
this glove to feel around the metal that’s against her neck,” Vaughn said. “The glove is programmed to deactivate any trigger points, which should let us unsnap the collar. But there isn’t room for—”

  Meg screamed as a fresh source of agony hit her neck. Someone had pressed their fingers between her collar and her scorched skin. She could feel coarse fabric rubbing against her, the skin tearing away.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Vaughn yelled.

  “Saving her life.”

  She heard a struggle, then Vaughn yelled, “Let me go.”

  “We can either hold you back, or treat her injuries with the analgesic spray to try to keep her pain at bay,” Porter said. “It’s your choice.”

  “Megan, I’m so sorry.” Vaughn’s voice was close. They were all too close. And she couldn’t warn them of the real danger.

  “It’s done,” Vaughn said. “That’s it. It’s done, it’s done.”

  Dexter pulled his fingers out from under the collar, one final moment of fresh pain before the pulsing base-line agony was all she knew. Porter was there with whatever that spray was. It could barely touch the ring of fire around her neck.

  Her skin should be starting to heal, but the heat kept building.

  “Vaughn, is the collar supposed to be pulsing red like that?” Porter asked.

  “We also notice it’s not detaching,” Dexter said.

  “Just shut up and give me a minute.” Vaughn sounded panicked.

  She felt someone grip her under her arms and was pulled against a strong chest. Dexter was kneeling behind her, holding her up so Vaughn could mess with her collar. Her vision started to clear.

  Porter was standing over them, smiling benignly. “Hello, Megan,” he said. “Welcome to the Boom Room, where Vaughn tries out his inventions that might blow us all right off the face of the planet.”

  The fog of pain began to lesson, her thoughts gradually clearing. She swallowed a few times, willing moisture back into her mouth. Her tongue felt thick, but she found she could actually speak when she tried.

  “Collar may be a bomb,” she said.

  “We’re quite sure it is.” Porter leaned forward, his face right next to Vaughn’s. “And we’d truly appreciate it if you could get it off of our friend Megan’s neck before it blows us all up.”