by Elin Wyn
Dammit, there I went again.
I jabbed a nail into my hand. If I didn't break this habit of letting her randomly into my head, she was going to get me killed.
Back to the mission.
The doorway opened onto a short hall, ending in a flight of stairs. A second door led to another, smaller room.
Jackpot.
Sleek and black, like a cone that flared out in the middle then came to a sharp point at head height, a mini commtower sat in the middle of the floor. A series of slowly blinking lights circled the midpoint. I'd guess they indicated some sort of standby.
Now, decision time.
If I jacked into their communications, it'd be hard to argue I was just stopping by for a friendly visit.
But if I waited for Helmet Head to come back, was I willing to trust its answers about finding Doc?
Fuck that. I trusted Doc, and the Pack, and that was it.
What about... the stupid voice in my head started up again.
I shoved the voice back with a snarl while I sliced open another false seam in the lining of my jacket. A needle slim interceptor. It would pick up anything sent by the tower, and retransmit it to my data pad.
I walked around the commtower, looking for a good place to hide it. Small as it was, it would only work for as long as it remained undiscovered. And having the stupid tower in the middle of the room didn't provide any nice dark corners.
There. One of the lights protruded a fraction of a cen, just enough to lay the interceptor beneath it.
Just in time for me to hear the squeak of the front door.
Maybe, just maybe I could play this both ways.
I walked out of the back room to the front, where the Helmet Head stood, transfixed, black-uniformed shoulders swiveling as it surveyed the room.
"Hey," I waved casually. "Not sure if we've worked together before, but I heard one of you guys was in town."
It stepped towards me, waiting. Not big on small talk, I guess.
"Anyway, I wondered if you could check with your boss, see if he can get a message to the Daedalus for me."
"Information about that project is classified," it answered after a long moment.
I scratched my head. The times I'd worked with one of these, they'd never been big on initiative. But I hadn't thought of it as stupid, either. "Yeah, I'm sure it is. But I'm from the ship. I already know about it. I just want to go home." Sharp pain twisted my gut. Something else the Doc didn't build us for, being away from the Pack for so long.
Another step towards me. "You are from the Daedalus," it repeated.
"Just like I said. Doc and your boss can work out the details, we can do another job to make up any expense, but I'm sure she'd appreciate...."
It snagged my arm with a vice-like grip. "You are to be apprehended and returned."
I spun, wrenching my shoulder away from it. "What the hell is your malfunction?"
I backed towards the door. If nothing else, at least one of my questions was answered. The Hunters weren't my allies now, if they ever had been.
Quicker than I thought possible, it moved behind me, blocking the exit. It threw a punch, and with a quick drop I dodged and kicked, knocking it to the ground. But before I could pin it, it rolled and sprung back up like a maniacal child's toy.
As fast as my fists flew, my thoughts were faster. How the hell was this not taking any damage? I grabbed its wrist, spun and twisted it, forcing it to the floor.
It pushed against me, as if it felt no pain at all. Nothing human, nothing at all would have pushed back. I held my grip and gave an additional shove, and it twisted against me, the arm tearing at the shoulder with a sickening rip.
My grip slackened for a moment. Don't blame me. I hadn't expected the ropy mess of flesh tangled with wires that came spilling out of the gash.
It staggered to its feet, off balance by the lack of the arm, but not slowing down. "All results of the Daedalus experiment are to be confined and returned to base." Its voice didn't even sound strained, more like a recording.
There was no way I was going anywhere with that thing. Wasn't happening before, sure wasn't happening now.
The torn arm hung heavy in my hand. Whatever they used to build it was strong, heavy. I shifted the mass, felt for its center of weight, then swung it like a club at the thing's helmet. A satisfying spider web of cracks appeared, and it finally bellowed in rage.
The thing could feel. Either frustration or pain, but an unholy satisfaction bloomed deep within as I pivoted around it, dancing out of the range of its lunges, striking again and again with my improvised weapon.
A chunk shattered, crumbling off the curve of the helmet, leaving a gap no bigger than my fist. Within, a glimpse of fuchsia and magenta intertwined madly. Distracted by the sight, my timing was off just enough that, on the next lunge, it caught my shoulder with a numbing blow. The arm I'd been using as a club spun out of my grasp into the pile of discarded furniture.
"All results of the experiment are to be returned," it repeated, slurring the words now.
"I'd return you myself if I knew where to send you," I backed into the jumbled corner, reaching behind me for anything to use as a weapon. My hand brushed the thin metal leg of a chair. I flexed the metal at the joint. A weak alloy, but it might do what I needed.
I hated relying on 'might.'
It took a lurching step towards me and I sprang, holding the jagged shaft of chair leg in front of me like a short spear. It grabbed me from the air, pulling me in with a crushing grip around my ribs, but right now that suited me fine. I shoved the makeshift spear through the hole in the helmet, stabbing the writhing mass with all my strength, jabbing and grinding while the creature shrieked.
With a final wail, it threw me away. I twisted to hit the wall with my shoulder, and slid down, watching it slowly collapse to the floor. A twitch, another. And then it was still.
I pulled myself to my feet, bracing myself with the wall, keeping my eyes on the wrecked hulk before me.
Damn, that was a lot harder to kill than it should have been. I thought about checking the intercept, but shrugged. There wouldn't be any new comms going out from that thing. With luck, the intercept could pull something out of recent memory and send it to my data pad, but I'd check on it later.
I stretched my side carefully, wincing at the stab of pain from my ribs. At least one had to be broken. I took shallow breaths. Even as fast as I could heal, dealing with a punctured lung would suck.
For now, I needed to find the vials of antonium dust and get back to Kara.
I looked at the remnant of the couch. Kara was pissed, anyway. I should sleep off the worst of it, let my system heal, then search this place.
My head throbbed.
Totally made sense.
Maybe it was just thinking about how many weeks I'd been from the ship, from Doc and the Pack - but I didn't like how long I'd been from her. I straightened up, holding my arm tightly to my side. I'd get her to yell at me later. Find the dust now, get home, then sleep.
Fine. Stupid brain.
Dust wasn’t in this room. No place for it in the room for the commtower. So, upstairs it was.
Every ache from the fight kept suggesting I lie down when I went up the first few stairs. Without the Doc and her lab, the only way I was going to heal from this was a long nap. Not here, though.
Halfway up the steps, the front door hissed, and relief ran through me. Wasn’t looking forward to the fight with her, but Kara could help search for the antonium, we’d get done faster, and then I could sleep.
Except.... The thing on the floor. Tough as she was, that’d freak out anyone. “Hold on, Kara,” I called out, turning around to get her. “Right there.”
But it wasn’t Kara kneeling over the destroyed form.
Damn. There had been two of them.
And I was in no condition to fight.
Kara
Stupid jerk. If he'd waited, if he'd taken me with him, he'd have known what he wa
s getting into.
I called again, but didn't expect an answer. I'd be there before the stubborn bastard picked up the comm.
All the time wasted wedging the door open, bit by bit until I could squeeze through the gap.
Void only knew what had happened at those coordinates.
Whatever he'd gotten into, served him right.
I sighed and rolled my eyes at myself. Fine. I didn't really think that. Not after he'd saved me from Sary. And, while I was being honest, he'd saved me back at Xavis', even if I didn't like how he went about it.
But I wasn't going to tell him that.
My stomach growled as I passed another block, further away from the districts I knew best. The coordinates Rati had given me were to a nondescript area, nothing interesting for me. Nothing to steal, nothing to sell. Too quiet.
So why were the Helmet Heads there?
No point in wondering. I rubbed my head from my last encounter with the weirdo. I just needed to avoid running into another one, find my dust and my guy.
Shit.
I stopped cold in the street, ignoring the mutters of the people who bumped into me.
My guy? Where the hell did that come from?
I didn't have a guy. And if I did, it certainly wouldn't be Davien, with his permanent smirk and know-it-all attitude. Or the way he moved between you and the door, my traitorous brain whispered, or held you all night through the nightmares.
Whatever. I started moving again. He was my partner in this job, my ride off the planet. Nothing else.
I didn't bother going to the front of the building. If Helmet Head came in and out of that door, I didn't want to be anywhere too close. Instead, I walked to the alleyway behind the block, and then counted off buildings. Unlike the center of town, there wasn't much trash in the alley. I examined the wall, searching for handholds. Nothing leapt out as a convenient way up.
There. A thin set of pipes a long-ago resident had run to the roof, three buildings back, no doubt tapping into a water main. I eyed it doubtfully. It was old, but if I moved quickly and carefully, it should hold me all the way to the top.
I slipped on my gloves and flexed my shoulders. Yesterday's adventures weren't exactly the best warm-up for this, but that couldn't be helped. Hand over hand, I moved up the wall, toes braced against the structure for stability, but not much support. The pipe flexed and groaned, but the brackets holding the pipe in place were in better shape than I'd feared.
Only the last gap remained to reach the roof, when, with a groan, the final bracket popped free, and the pipe veered to the side, teetering free of the wall.
Dangling, heart pounding so loud I knew the residents could hear it, I swung my legs back and forth, just a bit, hoping to balance between tearing the rest of the pipe loose, and getting enough momentum to grab the sill.
One, two -- and the next bracket ripped free.
I leapt for it, fingers scrambling, sliding down the wall, until I hit a shutter, half knocked loose and hanging from a single hinge.
I clung to it, panting, hand stinging from the fall. Void, anyone in that room would have heard me. I peered between the shutter and the frame and bit back a gasp.
Davien lay on the floor, a bloody mess. No longer caring if anyone heard me, I slammed my fist against the plex. He didn't move, didn't respond.
My heart stopped for a moment, and my head slumped to rest against the glass, eyes closed.
If the Helmet Heads had killed him, I'd find a way to hurt them. Didn't know how, but they walked, and one thing life in Ghelfi taught you was that anyone, everyone, could be made to hurt.
And if he wasn't dead, I'd kill him myself for making me worry.
First step, getting in there.
I rebalanced on the thin window ledge and slid the oxycutter from my jacket. Lightweight and built to fit in my hand, it'd gotten me into more 'unbreakable' buildings than I could count. People focused their security on doors, never thinking to look up.
Never had the cutter seemed so slow, until I finally dropped through the small hole to the floor. I froze, crouched, ready to flee at any noise, but the house was silent.
The air left my lungs in a whoosh as I looked Davien over. One mass of injuries. No one could survive a beating like that. But...
Bands secured his wrists and ankles.
You don't bother to tie up a dead man.
"Hang on, you bastard," I muttered as I bent over his wrists, examining the metal securing him. "I guess it's my turn to play hero."
"Kara?" he whispered. "Get out of here."
"Shut up, you idiot." There wasn't a lock - the metal looked like it had been forged together around him, crisscrossing his wrists. "How the hell do these come off?"
"Don't know. Wasn't awake when they went on."
I glanced at him, half expecting his smirk, but his eyes stayed closed, face still.
"Hey," I brushed my lips lightly over his, careful not to touch anything too hard. "What happened to my favorite smartass?"
He didn't answer, and I returned to figuring out his bonds.
"How'd you get in?" The question was so soft I almost didn't hear it.
"Cutter." Without a lock, there was nothing to pick. And that metal looked a lot harder than plex. Maybe I could find something that could snip it, or force it open, or...
"Then use it again."
I looked at him, shocked. "Can't - no way to angle it without burning you."
"I'll heal." His eyes were open now, expressionless.
I rocked back on my heels, shaking my head. "I've seen people burned from oxycutters. They don't heal." I gripped his hand, desperate for something to hold on to, to ease my panicked breathing. "You can't ask me to do that to you."
He squeezed my fingers back. "Do you trust me?"
I did. Void help me, I did, and I didn't know why. I nodded, unable to speak.
"Then do it. I'll tell you when to stop."
I shook my head, but picked up the cutter.
"Help me sit up, then start there, where it crosses at the top."
No matter how I positioned it, the smell of scorched flesh filled the room.
"Stop."
I almost fumbled the cutter trying to shut it off fast enough.
"You're doing fine, Kara."
I stared at his red, blistering skin. "I can't believe you're telling me it’s going to be alright, when I'm the one burning you."
He gave a half-laugh. "Believe it or not, I'm feeling a little better than I was. Maybe when we get out of here, I'll take you back home with me, my lucky charm."
"Most folks don't consider being set on fire good luck. You know that, right?"
"What made you think I was most people?" He flexed his shoulders against the wall. "Ready to start again?"
"No." But I did it anyway.
Three more rounds, until the flame of the cutter began to flicker.
"Davien, we may have a problem."
He looked at the small inroads I'd made against the dark metal and shrugged. "Maybe."
He rolled his shoulders, then suddenly swung his arms up, over his head, and around to the side. With a screech, the bands ripped from his wrists, clattering to the sides of the room.
"How did..." I breathed, but he put his hand over my mouth, face intent, eyes distant.
Whatever he listened for didn't arrive, and, after a moment, he moved his hand, brushing my cheek. "Couldn't have done it without a start." He looked at the bands around his ankles. "Think the cutter has enough fuel left to get a nick into that?"
When those scraps had been flung away, more quietly this time, he leaned back against the wall, eyes closed and breathing hard. I looked at his wrists again. Angry red skin, but the blisters had subsided. I examined his face, not shocked now to see the swelling down, the bruising still colorful, but starting to fade.
"What else did you have mod'd?" A memory of water streaming over his hard body in the shower flashed before me. I hadn't noticed anything else but the cosmetic
work on the ears and teeth, but this seemed like more than that.
"I didn't do any of it." He slumped against the wall, leaning to one side. "Sorry, still healing." He sagged a little more. "I need to sleep for a bit. You get out the way you came, and I'll follow you as soon as I can."
I snorted. "You can't be trusted to stay out of trouble on your own." I scooted until my back was to the wall. "Come here." I pulled him down until his head rested in my lap. "We'll stay here until you can leave, then figure the next step."
He shook his head, but his movements were sluggish.
"Can you make me leave?" I teased, running my hand from his hair down his shoulders and back.
"Stubborn," he muttered, but closed his eyes again and relaxed onto my legs. I kept stroking his back gently through his jacket. Hopefully, I wasn't hurting him, but unless he said something, I couldn't tell.
I moved from his back to stroke the outer edge of his ear. Such an odd modification, the subtly different shape coming to a sharp point just above the level of his eyes. If his hair was a fraction shorter, there'd be no way to not see it. So why have it done, but keep it mostly hidden?
"Stop that," he murmured.
I froze. "Does it hurt?"
"No. When you do that, all I can think about is burying myself in you until you scream my name.”
I choked, face burning. "I see... Does that happen when anyone plays with your ears?"
He snorted softly against my leg. "Nope. Only you."
My mind cast for something, anything to change the subject. "Your ears weren't the only thing changed. What did you mean, you didn't have it done?"
A sigh ran through his body. "That was a stupid thing to say. Any chance you'd forget it?"
"Now?" I touched just the tip of his ear. "Not a chance."
"Fine. How do you define humanity?"
"Well," I blinked. That was a little deeper than I'd been expecting. "Honestly, I'd never thought about it."
"There's a bunch of people back in the Empire who have thought about it, thought about it a lot.”
