by Gorman, K.
“Still, I appreciate your efforts to try and replicate the knowledge and skill of a very specific archaeology PhD that exists in a non-System Standard language, in a week.” She let out a sigh. “It may not feel like much, but it’s leagues more than what I know. Fuck, I barely remember what language they speak here. Spanish, right?”
“Portuguese,” Soo-jin corrected. “The Spanish invaded the other side of the continent.”
“Right. Well, I had little to no idea which pre-Colonial civilizations lived where in the Americas. And my education on world history was…somewhat skewed.”
The Eurynome Project’s idea of childhood education had been both misleading and selective. Not only had they straight-out lied about certain aspects of physics―turns out that normal people who hadn’t been genetically engineered and brainwashed didn’t develop magical powers―they’d left out large swathes of modern history, and had, in hindsight, outright ignored half of the world. When she and Nomiki had escaped through the gate, they’d arrived in Sirius with little knowledge of space travel, and even less of terraforming.
“Still technically better than mine. My parents didn’t really touch much on Old World History, except to extrapolate on how much they hated the Japanese.”
Soo-jin stepped up to the next stone, a taller piece that lay at an angle on the slope, and bent forward to examine it. The roots of a tree buckled the ground beneath it, and several vines wrapped around its surface, the lines of previous vine damage clearly visible on the stone’s weathered surface. Underneath, the wing of a bird was etched into the piece in a thick groove.
Soo-jin’s lips formed into a thin line, a sign that she was thinking.
Whatever it was, she didn’t voice it, instead straightening and changing the subject with a jerk of her head as she stepped away. “Can you do anything with it? With your powers?”
Karin tilted her head. “Not sure. Nomiki and I tried on the first day, but…”
“You were dead-tired, with significant blood loss, and were still adjusting to the voice in your head?” Soo-jin suggested.
“Yes. That.”
She was still tired, and she was still adjusting, but at least, she didn’t have the blood loss this time.
She considered the stones. Basic scans had revealed both the Brazilian and the Macedonian ruins to be simple hunks of stone―nothing hidden, and nothing irregular. Whatever coincidence had landed them both within walking distance of a Eurynome Project compound, it didn’t make them useful.
Or at all relevant.
Staring at the weathered stone, with its cracks and crevices overgrown with moss and dirt, the side of one laden with lichen and bird shit, something turned in her gut.
Gods, how she’d wanted them to be something more. How many times had she stared up at the Macedonian henge, willing it to be something? How many times had she stood around them, wondered at them, touched them?
They’d always seemed to mystical. So otherworldly.
But they were nothing. Just slabs of stone with some ancient graffiti on them.
Except…a small, niggling memory tugged at her mind. Layla Jibril, the old Program Athena, telling her something about the stones in a dream that wasn’t a dream.
‘I said that they weren’t made for us, but that doesn’t mean we can’t use them.’
That hadn’t been quite what she’d said, but she had mentioned them as an anchor point for something.
How about you? she asked Tia. Any special insights on the rocks?
Nope. If they have genetic code, let me know.
She eyed their weathered surfaces and all the plants currently growing on them.
Technically, they have a lot of genetic code.
Movement up the slope interrupted her thoughts. At the top of the hill, the small set of aluminum doors swung open from the compound’s cream-colored broadside, and light flashed on the distinctive silver armor of a Centauri guardsman. This cyborg was a woman, with thin blond hair braided to her scalp and a network of tattoos around the cybernetics that worked through her arm. She was accompanied by a second cyborg with pale skin and a choppy set of tattoos marking their cheek, and a Fallon soldier who stood too straight to be completely at ease.
A second later, Commander Sarah Tillerman of the Menassi Tri-Quad Alliance walked through the door, followed by Sergeant Tian Adan Reeve of the Fallon military.
They made an odd pair. While Reeve was of average size for the Fallon military―just under six feet tall with a lean frame of muscle―Tillerman’s cybernetics gave her a larger, stronger frame. Standing several inches above him, her tech had an older look than that of her compatriots, as if it had been built in an industrial metal shop rather than the finicky, bioengineered cybernetics labs she’d seen in Fallon. Only a bit of it―her breastplate, her right shoulder, which featured an armored decoration, and a robotic hand and forearm currently making a conversational gesture to Reeve―was visible. The rest hid under today’s choice in loose pants and tank tops.
Older cyborgs in Alpha Centauri, she gathered, did not require a uniform.
You think Kalinsky is on to something? That Commander Tillerman wants to speak to me?
Tia made a humming sound in response, but said nothing. Up the hill, Tillerman was leaning in to hear something Reeve was saying.
The breeze lifted, making the thick leaves above them rustle and dance. The trunks nearby creaked and groaned.
Between one moment and the next, Tillerman’s head turned. Her gaze drifted briefly over the foliage, as if she were taking it in, then dropped down and found Karin in the shade of the trunk.
A shock went through her the second their eyes locked. Karin met her gaze, unflinching, arms crossed over her chest, a neutral expression on her face.
Seconds ticked by as they stared at each other.
Then, Reeve noticed that Tillerman’s attention had drifted. He followed it, saw her, and his expression tightened.
He forced a smile and said something, then moved off.
Tillerman tilted her head, but didn’t immediately move. When she did, she kept her gaze on Karin as she followed, only turning away as she vanished over the curve of the hill and the forest foliage picked up again.
The two guardsmen also gave her glances.
“Huh.” Soo-jin crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. “That was…interesting.”
Yes, Tia echoed. Definitely interesting.
Karin gave her head a small shake and shrugged. “I won’t comment on the curiosities of other cultures.”
Soo-jin snorted. “That’s bullshit and you know it. And I’ve definitely seen her stare at you like that before. Intently.”
“Well, I did single-handedly slaughter my way through a good portion of her troops. I’d be staring at me, too. Intently.”
But the argument was half-hearted and already ringing false in her ears.
She let out a sigh. “It seems like more than that, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. And I’m not sure I liked the way Reeve moved her on.”
Karin chewed the edge of her tongue, thinking.
Normally, she loved it when Reeve moved people along. He’d been her chaperone when she’d been healing people on Chamak Udyaan, and it had saved her from conversations she really hadn’t wanted to have.
She didn’t love it when he may or may not be part of a Fallon conspiracy to hide something from her.
And it would seem that Soo-jin had picked up on that, too.
“Are you suggesting that they’re blocking her from talking to me?”
A guilty expression plastered across Soo-jin’s face. The woman shifted, obviously uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I’m a paranoid fuck. Maybe they’re not. Maybe she really is just staring at you because you killed a shitload of her people. But, in our brief interaction, she didn’t strike me as the kind of person who quailed at brutality.”
No. Very few of the Centauri did, she had found. And, as she mulled over the memory of the enco
unter in her mind, it wasn’t hard to read Tillerman’s expression. Soo-jin was right―she wasn’t afraid of Karin. Wary, perhaps, but she had a feeling she’d gotten over that some time ago. She’d have to, in her position.
No, this was calculation.
This wouldn’t be the first time someone has tried to control me, Tia thought.
She got a flash of the tank, the cybernetics routing through the floating brain that was left of Tia’s physical body, the limitations of the computer programming and slowly corrupting hardware.
Karin clenched her teeth as the headache throbbed harder.
Us, she corrected. They would be controlling us.
“Karin?” Soo-jin’s voice jarred her from her thoughts. Her friend was looking at her now, concern deepening her brows. “You okay?”
She shook off her internal conversation with Tia. “Yes. Fine.”
Soo-jin didn’t move. Slowly, her gaze flicked over her.
“There’s blood from your nose.”
Karin lifted her hand to her face and touched wetness. When she pulled it away, the first three fingertips were bright red.
She wiped it off. “I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”
“Uh huh.” Soo-jin stared at her for another few seconds, the skepticism never leaving her expression. “You know, you do this thing―like you go really still and don’t move at all. And then, you don’t seem to hear anyone else.” Her gaze narrowed. “It’s pretty fucking creepy.”
She sighed. Was it that obvious? She’d known there would be some changes, but she thought she’d masked them better.
“Sorry. I get lost in thought. Lots of memories to sort through.” She forced a smile, a small one, onto her lips. “I guess I’m taking more after my sister, that way?”
“Oh, definitely,” Soo-jin informed her. “You’ve got that creep down pat.”
“Thanks.”
Soo-jin cleared her throat. “Just so we’re clear―we’re still friends, right?”
“What?” Karin’s eyebrows shot up into her forehead. “Yes! Of course.”
“Good. ’Cause it’d be super awkward to keep thinking we’re friends, then end up in a sudden pile of dimension-spliced flesh a few seconds later.”
The image of blood flashed across the front of her mind, followed closely by a warm, slick feeling, like oily, coppery soup, over her fingers. For a second, she flashed back to three days ago, the way it had felt to have it coating her skin, cooling against her, making a tacky, slippery sheen that smeared rather than wiped. The sickly scent of metal and humid sweetness pushed at the inside of her nose.
“No,” she forced out, shoving the sensations back against the humming in her mind. “That’s not going to happen.”
For a second, Soo-jin’s expression didn’t change. Her face remained serious. One finger tapped the side of her thigh, another sign that she was thinking.
Then she shifted, crossed her arms, and turned her body askance, the tails of her dreads falling down her back in a tumbling pile. “Good. I don’t mind creepy, so long as we’re cool. But it’ll be nice when you’re back to normal. Marc misses you. Did you know that?”
“Yes. I know.”
Her netlink chirped from her pocket. A second later, Nomiki’s voice crackled over the comms link.
“Karin, can you meet me at the Cradle?”
She pulled it from her pocket and lifted it to her mouth. “Yeah, just give me a sec. Gotta grab something from the Nemina.”
She exchanged a glance with Soo-jin.
“Another mission?” her friend guessed.
She shook her head. “God, I hope not. But I don’t think she’s inviting me for tea.”
“No, probably not.” Soo-jin took a deep breath and straightened, her gaze once again turning into a frown up the hill. “I’ll see if I can have a chat with Tillerman. See what she’s about.”
Karin gave her a curt nod. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go see what Nomiki wants―and don’t forget to talk to Marc. He misses you.”
Chapter Ten
Marc. That was not someone she wanted to talk about. Or think about.
Things were going sideways between them. Not in a dramatic way, but slowly. Like watching a satellite swing off its orbit. Every day, she felt more and more like she didn’t need him―and, every day, she wanted to be around him less and less.
Which was fucked. He was her boyfriend. Her partner.
And I can’t feel for him anymore.
Sometimes, it felt like her psyche dipped back toward being the person she had been―the feeling, empathetic Karin that loved him and had romantic feelings for him―but it was like watching a butterfly flutter on the other side of glass.
Interesting and beautiful to look at, but not something she could touch.
And she didn’t have time for it.
I have a job to do. And a certain amount of genetically engineered psychopathy with which to do it.
The air grew warmer as she climbed into the parking lot, the tinge of exhaust mixing with the residual heat and humidity that was Brazil. The camp bustled, people walking to and fro, jogging in some cases, with the parking lot filled with more ships and tents than she thought would fit.
The Nemina sat off to the side, half of it tucked into the overhang of the jungle.
She hadn’t parked it, but she appreciated whoever had. The small window in her room now faced nothing but green foliage, and the near-constant ruckus of the camp wasn’t quite so obvious.
Her feet clunked on the ramp as she walked up and let herself in.
It was a smaller ship. Although officially classed as a Scout vessel, it also had two cargo containers that could be detached from the back for drops, which made it an incredibly useful, quick ship with decent scanning technology―perfect for a scrounging operation, and even more perfect with the addition of an aftermarket C-Class Laser cannon hidden between the landing gear spots.
The interior was dark, the lights off and only the basic power running. Terrestrially, they didn’t need to keep the full life support cycling, and Marc had powered down most of her drives. The Nemina’s normal insulation, meant more to help hide her signature and prevent vital heat from leaking out into the vacuum, kept most of Brazil’s heat out, helped along by whoever had managed to duck her nose and wing into the overhang of the trees.
Her footsteps made light taps on the metal flooring as she turned left at the main hall and made for her bunk. As she passed the Mess, the smell of last night’s barbecued pork hung in the air. A dark smudge lingered where the auto-scrubber hadn’t quite cleaned Baik’s blood stain off the floor.
Her door panel flashed green when she hit it, the door hissed open, and a shuffling sound came from the front of the ship.
“Karin?”
She didn’t wince when Marc’s shadow stretched across the back of the manual override wall that led to the ship’s small bridge, but her jaw did tighten.
She’d hoped he wouldn’t be here. That he would be somewhere else in the camp.
It was a shitty thing to think, but there it was.
Maybe I haven’t lost all of my emotions, she thought, a dark sarcasm dripping through every syllable. I can still feel enough to turn into a really shitty person.
If she had any balls, she’d confront him. Break it off.
But something was stopping her. And, instead, they now had this awkward, hesitating mess.
She schooled her features and turned to face him. “Hey.”
He was tall and muscled. Lean. In the light from the bridge’s windows, he cut an impressive figure. He’d been working out, too, likely taking his frustrations out on the gym equipment he’d relocated back into the spare rec room, and probably recently. Though the Brazilian weather had them all digging for their summer shorts and sleeveless tanks, the scent of sweat from him held more effort behind it than simply standing in the sun.
Gods. She had a new, enhanced smell range, and her brain used it to differentiate betwe
en Marc’s workout sweat and his normal sweat.
There’s also fear sweat. And pain sweat. We haven’t smelled those on him yet, though I think you have them in memory.
She gave Tia a very careful, inward side-eye.
I don’t think I need to remember those right now.
“How are you?” she asked, trying to inject some cheer into her voice, and pulling a smile across her lips.
The smile had been a bad idea. His gaze dropped to her lips, and his body tensed up.
He could see right through that puppet show.
“I’m fine. It’s been quiet. I see they’re keeping you busy?”
“Yes. Just came back from a mission, and I think there’s another one lining up―Nomiki asked me to meet her somewhere.”
So, I really have to go. Just came to grab my netlink charger.
Though, now that she thought of it, she could probably borrow any number of netlink chargers on the Courant. Hells, they’d probably hand her one in a gift-wrapped package if she so much as gave an indication that she was looking for one.
They went to many lengths to make her happy. They just…weren’t telling her some things.
He took a step closer, swinging a small, worn towel over his shoulder. “How was the mission? Did you find anything?”
His baritone, and the way he ducked his head when he stepped closer, struck something in her. She clasped her fingers around the edge of the door.
We terrorized the families of an innocent settler colony. Shot one of them. Yelled at them in languages they didn’t understand. Busted through their doors in full armor and ripped their weapons apart. I doubt any of those kids will forget that.
“Fine,” she said. “It was fine.”
By the sudden stillness to his expression, she guessed that he saw through the fake words as deftly as he saw through the fake smile. A storm of emotions flicked over his face, then condensed into a wary frown, before he gave her a good looking over.
He stepped forward, his arms lifting.
“Karin, I―”
She stepped back with a loud gesture. “Look, Marc. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to get my charger and go.”
