Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 4)

by G. S. Jennsen

  Her leaf module was in the bag with her clothes, and she couldn’t bring herself to care to retrieve it. Instead, she let the rain soak into her expensive costume and, eventually, her skin.

  The swell of excitement and hope she’d felt on walking into the revered establishment died a swift death under the crushing weight of despair, followed closely by a thousand suspicions, then more despair, then renewed panic.

  The truth was lost to her, along with everything she had ever been. Gone.

  26

  * * *

  Dashiel paced in front of the wide windows spanning his living room. Rain pouring out from heavy thunderclouds obscured the view, leaving him with little to gaze upon but his own tortured reflection in the glass.

  It had been several hours since she’d left him at the harbor, ostensibly to go directly to Rivers Trust. He’d given in to fear-tinged impatience and pinged her over an hour ago, but received no response. Needless to say, this had quelled neither the fear nor the impatience.

  He hadn’t made it this late into the evening without a drink in months, probably years. But he didn’t want or need one, because the crater in his soul that alcohol papered over was fading away. She’d returned to him.

  Unless she hadn’t.

  Two opposing yet equally horrific scenarios built themselves into elaborate constructs in his mind. One possibility: the perpetrators of her erasure were far more nefarious and powerful than he’d imagined. They kept a perpetual stake-out, whether physical or electronic, on Rivers Trust, waiting for the day when she reappeared. That day was today, and they’d snatched her off the street and absconded away with her, intent on performing a new erasure…or worse.

  Second possibility: she’d retrieved the backup, reviewed its contents and decided she wanted no part of what it held. With the mystery of her previous identity solved, she’d blown it and him off to return to her life of rebellion, leaving him with no way to find her again.

  He didn’t care for what it said about him that he feared the second possibility as much as the first, but there it was. He was a selfish man, and he needed her back.

  The door alert broke into his reverie, and his pulse quickened. She was here, which meant neither of his nightmare scenarios were true. She was here, which meant this was the moment she came back to him, real and whole.

  He hurried to the door and opened it, a welcoming smile poised to brighten his features.

  Nika stood in the middle of the hallway, soaked from head to foot. Droplets of rain clung tenuously to tangled strands of her hair; one-by-one they gave up their hold to fall to the floor. A thin black tank stuck to her skin, revealing every dip and curve of her upper body. A bag swayed loosely from her left hand, a burgundy piece of clothing hanging half out of it—the fabric matched her pants, which might have been designer-quality before they succumbed to the rainstorm.

  Her eyes were wide and wild as she stared at him. Or past him, because she didn’t appear to be seeing him at all.

  He replaced the waiting smile with a frown of concern. “Nika—”

  “It’s gone.” She surged inside, forcing her way past him and down the short hallway into the living room, where she dropped the bag and kept moving into an aimless, frenetic circle. “It’s all gone. Someone withdrew all the backups hours before I woke up with my memory erased. There’s no backup of the backup, and no record of who withdrew it.”

  He blinked as her tirade of words berated his recalcitrant mind. His subconscious caught on first, and a sinking feeling settled in his gut. “I don’t understand. How is that possible? You and I were the only ones who had the authorization passcode.”

  “So you say.” Her pace grew more erratic as she wove a disjointed path around his furnishings, leaving small puddles of rainwater in her wake. “Maybe whoever psyche-wiped me stole the passcode from my memory prior to the wipe, then took out all my backups to cover their tracks.” Her gaze fell hard on him. “Or maybe it was you.”

  “Me? I would never—and even if I would, why would I tell you about the backup if I knew it had been removed?”

  “Hells if I know. To increase my paranoia? My dependence on you? I only have your word for…everything. You could be a pathological, manipulative liar. How would I tell the difference?”

  Her inherent distrust of him wounded him more deeply than any physical blow could. He had to convince her of their shared truth, somehow….

  His chin lifted. “I would never hurt you—never intentionally cause you pain. Every word I’ve said to you is the truth. But I realize you can’t take my word for it. So will you take my mind for it? Will you let me show you what you were to me, from my own perspective?”

  She sank against the nearest wall and studied him suspiciously. “You want me to simex one of your own memories.”

  “I do.”

  “What if you’ve planted a virutox inside it, like the one in your augments?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You know, you don’t really need me around to increase your paranoia. You’ve got that covered just fine all by yourself.”

  “It comes with the circumstances.”

  He looked up to find her expression had softened slightly, perhaps in apology. He’d take any leeway she offered. “I can see how that might be the case. So will you do it? Please?”

  She didn’t answer for several seconds—long enough that he started wracking his brain for a new plan—but finally she nodded brusquely. “Simply because I’m curious about this person you say I was, and with an empty trust account it seems this is the only way I’ll ever meet her. By the way, I’ve got advanced malware-sniffing traps installed, and they’ve been upgraded to recognize the kind of intrusion techniques the augment virutox uses. If there’s malicious code in the memory, I will catch it.”

  Of course she would. She’d always been tech savvy, but now she was also a criminal. A rebel. A terrorist, to hear Justice tell it. And he did not care. “Thank you. Sit for a minute. I’ll be right back with what we need—and a towel.”

  She wasn’t sitting when he returned, though her agitation had ebbed somewhat. She stared out the windows, much as he’d been doing when she arrived.

  He paused at the periphery of the living room, struck by the echoes the scene evoked of the last night he’d seen her. Her natural stance, the cut of her shoulders, the lines of her jaw, all reinforced for him what he already knew: missing memories or not, this was the woman he’d loved for so many years they masqueraded as eternity.

  He handed her the towel first, and she absently wrung out her hair while he went to the far wall by the chaise and opened a cabinet.

  A minimalist interface setup slid out of the cabinet to extend above the curving arm of the chaise, and he motioned for her to join him. “It’s not an important memory in the grand scheme of things. But it represents us and our life together better than a host of more ‘meaningful’ memories ever could. I’ve revisited it often in the intervening years.”

  “What is it of?”

  “A party we attended nine years ago. Mostly Advisors and their guests loitering over expensive champagne and delicacies.”

  Her nose scrunched up in distaste, which he ignored. “Now, experiencing another person’s memory can be disorienting, and you’ll likely be a little dizzy when—”

  “I’ve done it before. I know how it works.” She plopped down on the chaise and dropped her head onto the arm. “Let’s get this over with, all right?”

  He bit back a sigh. Everything would be better after. It must be. “Of course. Close your eyes.”

  PATTERN

  MATCH

  27

  * * *

  The party was in full swing when I stepped quietly through the door to Maris’ loft and paused in the entryway. It gave me a second or two to evaluate the tenor of the gathering before matching it and diving in.

  Friends, colleagues and a few detente-style adversaries gathered in clumps around the spacious, open-layout room and s
pilled out onto the balcony beyond. Though everyone was dressed in cocktail attire, the mood felt casual, even relaxed, and I relaxed in kind.

  I scanned the room, searching, until my eyes naturally fell on Nika. She stood in the kitchen talking to Maris and Adlai, a nearly empty champagne flute held aloft in one hand. A burgundy silk dress hugged her every curve; the view instantly stirred up desire in my mind and my body, and I had to hurriedly squelch the reaction. Woven straps crisscrossed her otherwise bare back to give teasing glimpses of her tattoo, while the curl of a thin, high collar accentuated a plunging neckline in the front.

  As if she sensed the caress of my eyes, she shifted around until her gaze fell on me much as mine had fallen on her. One corner of her lips quirked upward in a devious little smile that brought a sparkle to her eyes; offset by the burgundy, tonight they appeared more blue than green. Her void-black hair was styled into a luxurious mane of soft ringlets, one of which fell along her temple to tickle her cheekbone.

  I mirrored the smile in full as I crossed the room to join them. My arm slid around her waist, and I leaned in to place a kiss at her ear before pulling back to nod a greeting at the others.

  “Get caught up working late again?”

  I shrugged with self-deprecating flair. “Self-evidently. Apologies for my tardiness, Maris. You seem to have nonetheless persevered and made the party a smashing success without me.”

  “I do what I can with the tools available to me. In this case, Nika. Any room she walks into is instantly classed up by several orders of magnitude.”

  Nika rolled her eyes, but it was true. I regretted being late, for I did enjoy seeing her shine.

  “Well, this tool needs another glass of champagne if she’s going to continue to perform to expectations. Dashiel?”

  “Oh, definitely.”

  She squeezed my hand. “Meet me outside in a few minutes?”

  “More definitely.” I watched her as she walked away, but eventually I forced myself to turn my attention to Maris and Adlai. “What is it we’re celebrating tonight again? It must have slipped my mind.”

  Maris shot him a dubious look. “As if anything has ever slipped your mind. We are celebrating everything and nothing. Life. Believe it or not, we don’t need an official reason to have a party.”

  “I do believe it. I was just…checking.”

  Adlai chuckled. “She’s messing with you, Dashiel. There’s a meteor shower tonight.”

  Oh. I cocked my head slightly. “Which is why Nika…”

  “…is going outside. Yes.” Maris shrugged with effortless grace. “Forgive me. Your single-minded focus on your work begs to be poked at every now and then.”

  Adlai nudged her with an elbow. “You want to really torture him? Make him give the toast later on.”

  I cleared my throat. “Luckily, Maris doesn’t want to torture me.”

  “Hmm. I’ll think on it.” Her eyes flitted past my shoulder. “All right, you’ve done your social duty. Go get your drink, and your reward.”

  I pursed my lips as if I was readying a protest—I was not—then nodded. “If you insist. I’ll return for food soon, though. I neglected to eat lunch, and the spread smells delicious.”

  I turned and made my way out the open glass door to the balcony. Nika leaned against the ledge with her forearms draped atop it, a pose which caused the low swoop of the back of her dress to fall distractingly lower. She gazed out at the clear, starry night, and two flutes of champagne sat on the ledge beside her.

  I wound my arms around her waist from behind and rested my chin on her bare shoulder. “Beautiful night.”

  “It is. You just missed the first meteor of the night, but there should be more soon. Stay with me?”

  “Always.” I nuzzled her neck, enjoying the tickle of her curls against my skin. “Oh, you meant stay out on the balcony with you, didn’t you? Always to that as well.”

  Warmth infused her laugh. “Perfect. What kept you at work? No trouble, I hope.”

  “Only the Shorai contract. The Guides hope to launch in two months, and we haven’t begun to install the internal systems network or assemble the space-rated mobile d-gates the crew plans on taking with them. The message delivered today was essentially ‘all resources authorized, but get it done.’ ”

  “I’m not surprised. It will be the most extensive, farthest reaching exploration initiative we’ve attempted since the founding of the Dominion.” She twisted around in my grasp to face me. A hand rose to my jaw, and she drew me in for a slow, languid kiss. Champagne and the hint of a sugary treat lingered on her tongue, mixing with the delicious taste of her.

  I murmured against her lips. “Can we go home now? I find I desperately want to explore what’s beneath this tantalizing dress.”

  “You know what’s beneath the dress, silly.”

  “Maybe I want to be reminded.”

  “Soon, darling. We have obligations to fulfill first—and if you try hard, a spot or two of fun to have as well.”

  I reluctantly drew back from her embrace and retrieved the champagne, handing one glass to her before taking a sip of the other. “Speaking of—the contract, not fun—I’m somewhat surprised the Guides didn’t ask you to accompany the Shorai as our ambassador. Though I suppose they also realize our relations with the Taiyoks and the Chizeru would both suffer in your absence.”

  She smiled mysteriously over the rim of her glass. “Who says they didn’t ask me? But I’m enjoying my life far too much to spend years trapped on a spaceship with nothing but a couple of dynes, a data server and some probes for company. The only way I will ever consent to spending so long away is if you’re my company.”

  “Good.”

  “Still, I appreciate the romanticism of the initiative. We’re a star-faring people, but to look around you would hardly know it. We transport from planet to planet in an instant using the d-gates, never seeing the cosmos that fills the space in between. Few of us have so much as stepped foot on a spaceship, much less spent any real time traveling among the stars. Even during the Exodus, when we crossed galaxies, we slept for most of the journey. We never set eyes on the wonders we surely happened upon.”

  The dreamer side of her persona was only one reason she made an exceptional diplomat, but I didn’t always understand it. I was too pragmatic, as she frequently reminded me.

  I shrugged. “Ships are slow. Most people almost always have places they need to be, and d-gates are fast. It’s simply a matter of practicality.”

  “Our ships travel at many multiples of the speed of light. The Shorai, multiples beyond their speed. That’s not slow.”

  “It’s slower than instantaneous.” I frowned as a troubling thought occurred to me. “Are you sure you don’t want to go on the expedition?”

  She reached up to touch my cheek, and her fingertips lingered to drift along my jaw. “I’m sure. I want to stay here with you, where there are parties and champagne and fresh delicacies and lots and lots of glorious sex. I’m merely being whimsical, because I can be.”

  “Okay.” I set my glass on the ledge and embraced her with far greater passion than earlier. My head swam in the thrall of her intoxicating touch, scent, feel. I’d experienced them all a thousand and more times, but by opening myself up fully to the experience, each time was as enthralling as the last.

  An endless moment and too soon later, I withdrew from the fulsome kiss just enough to breathe. “In that case, what do you say we stay long enough to indulge in a bit more of the first three, then go home for a great deal more of the last?”

  “Sounds like my grandest fantasies come to life.”

  28

  * * *

  Nika’s eyes snapped open riding the crest of a wave of panic. She jerked out of the grip of the interface, bolted upright and swung her feet to the floor—then doubled over as a surge of nausea coursed through her.

  “It’s all right. If you feel sick, just give it a few seconds to pass.”

  She felt sick for certai
n, but it wasn’t from the inherent nature of a memory simex. Worlds collided in her mind, blending and tearing and distorting, and the roiling turmoil framing their dance suggested they would never be fitting into their boxes again. The blank chasm in her mind where her past should have lived transformed into a hall of mirrors, endlessly reflecting the woman in the memory back at her own reflection.

  Her dress had been a fancier version of the pantsuit she’d bought earlier tonight.

  Dashiel’s hand touched her shoulder, and she exploded off the chaise to stumble through the center of the living room until she found the rim of a couch to brace herself against.

  “Nika—”

  “Don’t.”

  She’d had no knowledge of how champagne even tasted until she’d tasted it on his lips…on her lips…on his.

  “I only wanted to—”

  She whipped around to face him. “I know what you wanted to do—I know why you showed me this. But she’s gone. Don’t you understand? This woman you loved? She’s gone—erased—and she’s never coming back.”

  He had stood while she yelled, but he didn’t approach her. He’d touched her so effortlessly, as if it were second nature. As natural as breathing. His shoulders rose and fell. Breathing. “I refuse to believe that.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The funny thing about reality is, it’s true whether you believe in it or not.”

  His jaw quivered, and his irises darkened in desolation to pools of amber. She knew it was desolation because he was still in her head, his emotions and idle thoughts and perceptions of both her and the world around him still colliding with her own.

  “But she’s standing right in front of me.”

  “No.” The distant walls swam, lurching toward her then spinning away. When he looked at her now, he must see the same face, the same eyes, the same lips and hands that touched him effortlessly in return. But how could he see the same woman when she saw a distorted doppelganger?