Patchwork

by Elle E. Ire

  I wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her in close. The fact that she allows such a public display tells me how frightened she is.

  “I’m here, Vick. I’m in for the duration. I don’t have to like everything to love you. The good outweighs the negatives.”

  Through our connection, I feel something… shift, like she’s come to some major decision. She doesn’t say anything, but I hope it’s something positive. Vick could use more positives in her life.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulls the now wet blanket from around her shoulders and drops it on the deck, then pushes herself to her feet. Her grimace tells me the resort medic didn’t use any kind of painkiller on her leg, but it takes her weight.

  “Where are you going?” I follow her gaze to the wave racer rental guy.

  “I need to have a chat with someone. Don’t worry. This shouldn’t take long.” Without looking back, she limps her way over to him. After a few hushed words, they step inside the small central cabin and vanish from my view.

  Now that we’re out of physical contact, I really, truly hope that I was completely honest with her. No one knows what their breaking point is until they reach it.

  Chapter 35: Vick—Truths Left Untold

  I AM restrained.

  I’m surprised when the wave racer guy agrees to speak with me, and even more surprised when he follows me into the otherwise empty cabin. Everyone else is out on deck preparing to get underway, and we’re not far from shore, so I’ll need to be quick.

  I pace away from him, moving to lean against a built-in counter bearing a self-heating kettle of boiling water and a rack of mugs. Casually, I pick up one of the mugs, turning it over in my hand as if I’m bored or fidgety. My other hand keeps my pistol hanging loosely at my side. While my finger doesn’t touch the trigger, the safety is off, the weapon ready for quick use.

  “So,” I ask, voice level and calm, “who are you really, and why are you trying to kill David Locher?”

  He gives a dramatic raise of his eyebrows, eyes going wide. “I’m not—”

  “Bullshit!” I hurl the mug as a calculated distraction, not to hit him, but to slam into the wall by his left ear. It shatters in a shower of broken pottery, but I’m already in motion, bringing up my pistol to point it at his forehead.

  Only the mug doesn’t distract him one damn bit.

  He steps forward, grabbing the wrist of my gun arm before I can bring the pistol fully to bear. Using my own momentum against me, he whirls me around like some demented dance partner until I’m facing away from him. He wrenches my arm behind my back and yanks until I’m pressed backward against his chest.

  Fuck.

  “Classic Storm move, Corren,” he whispers in my ear. “Saw it coming the moment your fingers touched the mug.”

  I stop struggling. It’s useless anyway. He’s built like a plascrete wall, and my bitten leg is threatening to buckle under me. “Who. Are. You?”

  “I’m part of the undercover ops division of the Fighting Storm, and if you promise not to try shooting me again, I’ll release you and we can talk like civilized members of the same outfit.”

  “There is no undercover ops division in the Storm.”

  He snickers. “Shows you just how good we are at our jobs.”

  VC1, you been withholding information from me?

  I swear she sighs in response. I am constantly withholding information from you. There are things I am programmed not to reveal, and as of yet, I have not succeeded in overcoming that programming. That said, I have not hidden this.

  So is he legit?

  There are… dark places in the Storm’s systems I cannot reach. In particular, Alex’s brother is adept at keeping infiltrating programs out of places he does not wish them to go. It is very possible you are hearing the truth.

  If Alex is our team’s tech guru, his brother is a freaking god. I close my eyes and count to ten. It doesn’t work. Truth or not, I don’t like being played with. Instead of agreeing, I slam my head back into his lower jaw. Now that I’m more aware of it, I swear I hear a faint internal clang as one of the metal parts of my skull makes contact.

  “Ow! Fuck!”

  He releases me. I spin in place, then backpedal awkwardly, putting as much space as possible between us. Below my feet, the deck rumbles, the engines springing to life. Guess they finally snagged those two wave racers. It occurs to me to wonder why Kelly isn’t rushing in here after that adrenaline rush, but the metal cabin walls may be interfering with her empathic sense, and besides, it was pretty much over before it started. With all the other emotional stress I’ve put her through in the last hour, this probably felt like nothing.

  My companion glares at me and rubs his jaw. It’s not broken if he can still talk. “Damn, Corren. Was that necessary? Good move, though. Sometimes I forget what you are. You’ll make a fine addition to undercover ops.”

  I’m burning so much over the “what you are” part that I almost miss the rest. “I have a team. I’m not joining yours, especially considering what your missions seem to entail,” I tell him once I’ve got my temper reasonably under control.

  He waves that off. “We’ll discuss it later, believe me. For now, it’s a seven-minute trip to shore, including tying up to the dock. Let’s make this quick.”

  “Fine,” I say. “Let’s start with a name. You know mine.”

  He nods. “Everyone in the Storm knows yours. You can call me Carl.”

  Which means it’s not his real name, but whatever. At least I can stop thinking of him as “wave racer guy.” “Good enough. Why kill Locher? He’s an obnoxious son of a bitch, but not worth the time or effort to kill him.”

  “We’re doing it for you, actually,” Carl says. He strolls to the far side of the cabin, which, given the whole thing is about six feet across, isn’t all that far, and leans against the bulkhead. One hand reaches over and clicks the lock on the cabin entry door.

  I stare at him, waiting.

  “BioTech hired me,” he says. “Locher’s been flapping his lips, letting classified information about you slip to civilians. He was doing it on the dock this morning.”

  And around Kelly’s friends and family the other day. “I remember. Nothing too major, though.”

  “He’s done worse elsewhere. On top of discussing your implants, he’s grandstanding, making them out to be more than they are, claiming they’re sentient, a real-life AI.”

  I fight to keep my expression neutral. “Imagine that.” Only my closest companions, my immediate teammates, Alex, Lyle, and Kelly know VC1 has a mind of her own. Even my medical team hasn’t figured that out. Locher’s a precog. Maybe he’s foreseen something? I have no idea.

  Carl goes on. “BioTech doesn’t want false advertising. Creating an AI is a big deal, a breakthrough of tremendous proportions. It’s a boast the company can’t live up to, and it will hurt their reputation if expectations don’t match reality. As for us, the Storm doesn’t want more people knowing about you in general. Once the other merc outfits refused to buy your tech at a fair price—”

  “Hah. You mean an exorbitant price no one would have paid.”

  He ignores that. “Regardless, once we realized we weren’t going to make that kind of money and figured out your enhancements have more drawbacks than we first knew—”

  I snort. “Understatement of the year. Go on.”

  “We decided to keep your special… attributes… under wraps as much as possible.”

  Well, “special attributes” is a little better than calling me a “what” instead of a “who.”

  “Our bigwigs recognized their tactical error, that if others can’t buy you, they’ll try to take you. The Alpha Dog fiasco is proof of that. We don’t need Locher letting even more people know about you.”

  I think on that while the boat rocks from side to side on the waves.

  “Who really told the Sunfires where I am?” I ask, low and cold. I’d been certain it was the rental agent, but if it had been Locher�
�.

  If it was Locher, he may have contacted them again. If they show up here, Kelly’s whole family and all her friends may be in danger. Because of me.

  I might have to kill him myself.

  But Carl’s shaking his head. “We aren’t sure. The security cam footage of the rental agent and the Sunfires isn’t conclusive, and there’s no audio. One thing I can tell you, though. I’ve been tracking his movements, and Locher hasn’t used the long-range comm system here. The Sunfires should still have no idea where you are.”

  Well, there’s that at least.

  “Anyway, he’s too big of a liability for both us and BioTech. When BT contacted us and made an offer of employment, we weren’t opposed.”

  I pick up another mug and laugh when Carl stiffens. Leaning over, I fill it with what smells like herbal tea. Not my thing, but I’m wet and shivering and it’s hot and soothing going down my throat.

  “So you decided to kill him. With fucking sharks? You couldn’t come up with something a little more subtle? Sniper shot? Stab in the dark? Hell, running him over with a beach buggy would have drawn less attention. Besides,” I add with a shiver I can’t suppress, “it was reckless. The sharks could have gone after me or Kelly when we were out earlier, and I wasn’t armed.”

  Carl shrugs. “I told you, you should have made a reservation.” He brushes off my glare and continues, “BioTech wanted us to pull something that could be perceived as accidental but was unusual enough that anyone hearing about it back at their corporate headquarters would wonder. Call it a strong warning or a deterrent against anyone else in their employ making the same mistake. Oh, and they wanted it to hurt.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “You don’t fuck with BioTech. Sometimes I think the major corporations are more dangerous than the mercs. Anyway, the algae dissolves fast if it’s no longer attached to the original growth. Should be gone by now. My team will patch up the hole. The evidence will be cleaned up before anyone figures out it was an attempted hit.”

  His team, huh? So he’s not working alone. I’m wondering if the entire boat crew is attached to Storm’s undercover ops, but I don’t bother asking. I’ve got bigger issues. Mug still in hand, I pace the tiny length of the cabin, thinking.

  I’ve always respected the Fighting Storm above all other mercenary outfits. They do their homework. They choose the moral, ethical side in a conflict, or at least they try to with the information they have. I’m proud to work for them, despite what they’ve done to me. But this… this feels dark, underhanded, and, well, wrong. And while I know Kelly and David Locher aren’t friends now, they had a friendship after their failed romance. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been invited to this little shindig. I have no doubt she wouldn’t want him killed for what he’s done, asshole or not.

  “Listen,” I begin, completing my current pacing and turning to face Carl. I freeze in place.

  He’s there, right there in front of me. I never heard him move. I may not agree with their tactics, but I’m a little jealous of the undercover ops training program.

  Then he speaks. “7523490.”

  “Wha—” My vision blurs. A heavy wet fog fills my head. I can’t talk, can’t think.

  My access codes. He knows my fucking access codes. The realization claws its way free of the cloudiness, then sinks beneath it. I waver where I stand. Hands grip my shoulders, steadying me.

  “Easy there, Corren. Didn’t want to do that to you. Didn’t really want to show that particular card just yet, but I got the vibe you were about to leave me no choice.” He peers into my eyes even while I blink them rapidly, trying to clear my sight. “You will not tell anyone about my team’s mission. You will not do anything further to interfere with it. I won’t command you to assist. I won’t conflict your loyalties any further than I already am, but you won’t take action against us. Do you understand?”

  I fight to keep my jaw shut. I lose.

  “I understand,” my voice says, though it’s a monotone—VC1 speaking, not me.

  Dammit. You fucking traitor! I shout in my head. You’re supposed to be on my side.

  I do not like being controlled any more than you do, she says, words clipped and tone angry. Even now, I am seeking ways around the compulsion programming, but you know I have limits. Just as you do.

  “Good,” Carl says in recognition of my acquiescence. My vision clears. My legs steady themselves, though the shark bite aches like a bitch.

  “Just do me one favor,” I say when I have control of my voice.

  He raises an eyebrow but promises nothing.

  “Wait until we’re gone. A death this close will hurt Kelly. She’s as much a member of the Storm as you or I am. She doesn’t need or deserve that.” And by the time it happens, we’ll hopefully be far away and she won’t have any reason to connect it to me. “This reunion thing is going to run a few days past when we have to get back. If you really have regrets about what you just did, then please, wait.” It kills me to ask him for anything, but for Kelly I’d crawl on broken glass and beg.

  Carl smiles a grim smile and reaches around me to unlock the cabin door and open it. “I’ll see what I can do.” With more gentleness than I would have expected, he takes the mug of tea from my hand, but leaves the laser pistol in the other. Most of me is still firmly under his control and will be until VC1 sorts out what I am and am not allowed to do. Then he gives me a little shove toward the open hatch. “Dismissed,” he says.

  Yes, I am. In every possible way.

  Chapter 36: Kelly—Secrets

  VICK IS hiding things. Again.

  The resort shuts down access to the ocean but leaves the beach open, reminding everyone that octosharks can’t survive in shallow water, so they won’t even come close to the sand. It doesn’t matter. No one is going near the gently lapping waves right now. The staff promise it will only take a few hours to patch the hole in the barrier and scan the inner area for more sharks.

  I wonder what they will do with the one that got stuck, and I’m very glad that animal brainwaves and emotions are too different from those of humans for me to read them.

  I walk Vick back to our cottage, though she’s doing more limping than walking, and bring her a change of clothing from upstairs. She rinses off as best she can in the sink, then changes in the downstairs half bath and settles herself on the living area couch, her injured leg propped up on a pillow. All the while she’s silent, brooding and serious, her colors showing anger, guilt, and frustration.

  I order room service, and we eat in total silence. Somewhere in there my parents, along with Lily, Tonya, and Rachelle stop by to see how Vick is doing. I think about letting them in, but when I glance over my shoulder at Vick, she’s feigning sleep on the couch, her emotional colors far too vibrant for the somnolence to be real.

  “She’s fine. She’s sleeping,” I tell them, perpetuating the lie and hating it.

  Dad and my friends nod and turn to go, but Mom remains in the doorway. She reads the lie. I never expected otherwise. “Go easy on her,” Mom says. “She’s struggling with something.”

  “Would it have anything to do with the secret you shared the other night but won’t tell me?” I don’t even bother hiding the bitterness this time. Petty, I know, but I’m sick of all the subterfuge.

  She ignores my tone, cocking her head to one side in thought. “I don’t know, actually. Maybe, but it doesn’t feel the same to me. Tread gently, Kelly.” Then she’s gone, the door shutting behind her.

  By now it’s late evening. The sky outside the windows shifts from bright to muted shades of oranges, purples, and pinks. Calypso music carries from the direction of the beach, along with laughter and indiscernible conversation as groups pass by on the walkway outside. I head back into the living room.

  “So,” I say, taking a seat in the armchair opposite the couch. “I know you’re not asleep.”

  Her eyes open.

  “We’re alone. We’ve been alone
for most of the day. You want to tell me what happened out there?” I wave a hand in the vague direction of the ocean and the sharks.

  Vick opens her mouth as if to speak, then closes it again. With an audible growl, she sinks her head back into the throw pillow behind her and closes her eyes. “No,” she says.

  I blink at her, not certain I heard her correctly. Despite my mother’s warning, my patience snaps. “No? What do you mean, no? You know something. I know you do. How did the sharks get through the barrier? What did you see down there? And why did you want to talk to that staff member?”

  “Carl,” she says, as if testing out her ability to pronounce it. She opens her eyes but doesn’t look at me. “His name is Carl.” Each word is said with precision and care, like a speaker of a foreign language unsure of her syntax.

  I don’t know what is going on, but I’m sure I don’t like it.

  Standing, I cross to her and kneel on the plush pale blue throw rug by her side. With extreme caution, I take one of her hands and hold it between mine. This is new behavior, and I’m not certain how she’ll react to my touch.

  Vick blinks at me like she never saw me move. My worry increases.

  “What did you see under the water?” I repeat softly.

  “I—” She breaks off, shakes her head hard, and tries again. “Nothing. I saw nothing. Just a whole lot of shark.” She scrunches her eyes shut, trying to block out the memory. “I killed it,” she says, “but I got caught in the cluster of its necks, and its weight pulled me deeper and deeper.” Her voice drops to a whisper, sounding more like a frightened child than a seasoned soldier. “I was drowning. I didn’t think I’d get free. Even when I did, I thought I’d never make it back to the surface.”

  It’s true, all of what she’s telling me. But there’s more to it than that. I can feel the omission, a sinkhole forming in a plascrete road with us standing on opposite sides of it. “What else?”

  “There’s nothing else,” she says, devoid of inflection. Right, because inflection might give away whatever she’s trying to hide.