“Costa, what’s happening?”
His raspy weakness scared Priest. “Your Dr. Bosch…warned me my body was…becoming far too fragile…after using my power constantly for…so long. He was very kind…for a physician.” Costa’s arms and legs sat where they landed, unmoving since he collapsed. Only his head lolled about, his bloodshot eyes barely focused. His breathing was shallow and his speech was forced, nearly slurred.
Priest’s pulse raced. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here.” Caressing Costa’s face, Priest’s words held little conviction. The skin under his palm was clammy and cool.
“That’s very…sweet of you, but an utter…waste of time. I’ve done what I came for…and it appears I’m done as well. I was hoping…to see Poll open his eyes one last time.”
A choking gasp escaped Priest. “Don’t talk like that.”
Costa’s eyes drifted closed and Priest nearly screamed in denial. Arbor stepped near and knelt beside them both, the shock in his face a mirror of them all.
The lights brightened, a new spray of sparks burst from the charred monitor, and the machinery noise returned, growing louder than before. Both men craned their heads around, frightened and confused.
Priest wasn't sure who he was asking. “What’s happening?”
Arbor pulled up his personal pad, his eyes narrowing as he scrolled through the screens. “The mini-reactor has started up in the assembly. It’s on full and all the safety overrides are blocked.”
Another flow of blood rushed from Costa’s nose as his eyes opened halfway. “I…win.”
Priest looked down at the bloody, fragile man in his arms. A wave of realization hit him dead center and his internal shriek of hysteria was stronger than everything that came before.
“It’s like the engine room! He’s going to blow this place! Son of a bitch!”
Over the sound of the machines, he could barely be heard. “You need to leave…me behind. I’ll only…slow you down.” Costa coughed again, dark sanguine further staining his beauty as his lidded eyes found Priest. “There…isn’t time. Save Poll… You promised…”
Priest held Costa’s head steady and forced him to look in his eyes. “Stay with me, Costa! We’re not leaving you behind!”
“I can stall…the final moment long enough…to get you to a safe distance. But not…if you drag me out of here. And since my arms and legs…refuse to move, you will…have to drag me.”
“Then we’ll drag you too.”
“Then…no one will survive it.”
“Shut down the reactor!”
Costa’s eyes rolled without direction, but his wavering voice held firm in its intent. “No.”
“Please!”
A new anguish wracked Costa’s words. “Take Poll with you…and activate him somewhere…safe. He deserves better…than this sad existence.” Tears streaked lines through the blood and salt on Costa’s cheeks. “I promised him…I would make his life better…when I arranged his sponsorship to Swaden. I need that promise…to not be a lie. Please. Go. Don’t make all of this…end in vain.”
“It’s not supposed to be like this!” It took every iota of self-control to keep Priest from bursting into heaving sobs. Even so, he swallowed and gasped through every one of Costa’s fractured sentences.
“It wasn’t supposed…to be like this for any of us. Now you have the chance…to undo some of the horror we’ve lived with.”
Priest’s head snapped toward Arbor. “How much time do we have?”
The room's volume was deafening as Arbor checked his pad, telling Priest what he already knew. “Not nearly enough.”
“Damn it!”
Trying to control himself, Priest pulled Costa close to his chest. Costa didn’t even begin to return the gesture, his smaller body a limp rag doll. Accepting Costa was right was an ache in his chest. He pressed a kiss to Costa’s forehead, an errant tear dripping down on his face.
“You see, Priest? I told you…I’m not the man to fall for…”
Priest chuckled in a sick, sad way. “Then everything’s fine, ’cause in the end, I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I wanted this to happen either. Fuck.” He hissed back a sob. “We won’t forget you, Costa.”
“Arbor is far luckier…than he deserves.” Costa’s head lolled to the side allowing him to see Arbor. “You’d better take…very good care of Priest or I’ll haunt you…and erase your handheld.”
Arbor sniffed and stroked the wet hair from Costa’s face. “I’ll do my best. For him and for Poll.”
“You both…should hurry. I’m not sure how much…longer I can delay the inevitable. There’s far less of me now…than there used to be and it’s becoming…quite cold in here.”
Now that the moment was upon them, Priest froze. Walking away from the sagging man in his arms was more than he could manage. The guilt stilled his body. Every memory from their first meeting in the bar crashed in on him. Could this whole scenario have been avoided if he’d just ignored Costa in the first place?
Arbor grabbed a fistful of Priest’s sleeve. “Come on!” The unmistakable terror in Arbor’s eyes broke his stupor. “Please, I can’t run very fast.”
He could barely hear the plea, but it broke Priest’s recriminations. Arbor needed him. There were enough risks in this escapade and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else. Priest gently laid Costa down and placed a goodbye kiss on his lips. One by one, the lights in the lab were beginning to blow out from the overload. If they didn’t hurry, they wouldn’t be able to see their way out.
With a grunt, he lifted the unmoving android and scrambled to the container. Putting Poll inside and locking the lid was too disquieting to focus on. Heartbeat in a frenzy, Priest activated the box from the handle’s control, causing it to hover off the floor. He snatched Arbor’s hand, gave Costa one last farewell glance, and raced for the lift.
Thankfully, the lift was working. It was dangerous, but the stairs would take too long and Arbor would never be able to keep up. The floor display counted down and Priest’s foot couldn't stop its restless tapping. A million things could go wrong at this juncture.
“Arbor, can you set off the fire alarms? We need to make sure no one’s in the building.”
Arbor scrolled through a few windows on his pad. His composure was fraying. “Costa’s already done it. Suppression teams are on their way!”
The doors opened as they reached the ground floor. “Shit! Is your camouflage program still running?”
“Yes! Move faster! We have to get the fuck out of here!” Arbor pulled Priest toward the rear exit.
If suppression teams were on their way, the authorities wouldn’t be far behind. They couldn’t be found near the building. Priest pushed faster, nearly dragging Arbor behind. His smaller legs were sprinting and barely keeping up with Priest’s longer strides.
Priest gripped the outer door's edge as it slid open, trying to shove it faster. They bolted out the back with the box in tow, running down the alleyway between the line of buildings. Stones flew under their feet as they rounded the corner behind the neighboring building.
The night sky went white and the thunderous concussion slammed them into the ground. The explosion could be felt and seen through everything around them. Priest managed to cover Arbor with his body as debris rained through the alley.
When the initial roar subsided, Priest rolled over. A sharp pain lanced through his ankle and shoulder from the fall, but he hazarded a look. The crate was intact and still hovering nearby against the wall, and Arbor was gasping heavily, but still breathing. There was far less charred rubble and silt covering the ground than there should be. The blast must have atomized a great deal of it. He crawled back around the corner to see.
The top half of the Forethought Industries skyscraper was gone, and what was left was a charred tower of useless material. Every window was shattered and blackened, and the metal structure didn’t stand as straight as it should. Fire suppression units hovered around, firing foam
into the burning husk even as pieces continued to collapse inward. Priest prayed everyone had gotten to a safe distance before the detonation, and he didn’t want to watch if the whole building came down. Nothing inside could possibly be recovered.
Costa succeeded—in all of it. And that thought didn’t make Priest want to cheer in triumph. It just left him numb at the loss of his friend.
Not a single word was uttered as Priest helped Arbor to his feet and dusted himself off. The ringing in his ears muffled the approaching sirens. The crate was still floating, so, with Arbor’s hand in his, they limped back the way they came.
The rental sat exactly where they left it, several blocks away. The box fit inside the boot and the door closing held a finality resonating with grief. Priest slumped against the vehicle, the weight of reality a burden, leaving him small and lost in the world.
Swallowing back the tears, he scrubbed his face in his hands until he felt Arbor’s hands on his waist. Arbor was shaking, his pleading eyes wet and glossy. The heat of his small palms was a lifeline Priest needed more than anything.
He stooped down, wrapped his arms around Arbor, and hoisted him off the ground in a crushing hug. No protest was made, Arbor simply clutched tighter as Priest absorbed the strength to not let the whole evening bury him.
Arbor didn’t move a centimeter, his ragged voice buried against Priest’s neck and shoulder. “Take me home.”
All Priest could do was nod in silence.
Chapter Fifteen
THERE WAS ONLY one other person in the shower room with Arbor, and he managed to stay calm. He focused on the hot spray against his skin, feeling the rush of water pooling and trailing over his body. The other man had said hello, making small chatter, and went about his business. He didn’t work his way closer and he didn’t do anything to invade Arbor’s personal space.
Priest had started bringing him into the shower with him during more populated times to break his reactions. So far it was working. The alarm he felt with others in the room was diminishing in small doses, but a bit of the old nightmare taunted him at inopportune moments. Experiences in prison could be difficult to unlearn.
He reached high for the soap dispenser and went through the ritual. Soaping his body with his stubby fingers, he repeated the mantra. The Santa Claus is a safe place. The Santa Claus is a safe place.
Each day was easier than the last.
He’d taken to showering alone over the last week, proud of himself for overcoming at least part of his jitters. Bit by bit, he convinced himself, those fears would be nothing but bad memories and could be ignored. Hopefully, sooner rather than later.
A graveled voice sparked a new frisson of apprehension down his spine. “There’s the man I was looking for.”
Arbor turned to see the mechanic, Dante, entering the shower room. Normally, Arbor was fine in the large man’s presence, but the sight of him naked and coming his way was testing his rehabilitation.
Maybe it was the sight of broad muscles straining under Dante’s dark complexion or the jet-black hair shaved into a thick stripe down his scalp. Maybe it was the devilish goatee or the dozen or so tattoos over his chest and shoulders he wore like badges of honor. Maybe it was the bullring in his nose or the matching rings in his nipples, or the last one glinting off the lights from the head of his swinging, veined cock. Maybe it was how everything about the man was fierce and imposing.
Arbor froze as Dante walked toward him, his fearsome body blocking the only escape from the room. The other bather was gone, and Arbor hadn’t noticed the man’s exit. There was no one else to witness what might happen next.
Dante took the shower next to Arbor and started the water.
“Do you think you can help me sync my tools? A couple of the scanners are giving me a problem, man. Pretty sure it’s a software thing.” Pressing his hands to the wall, Dante ran his head under the spray, causing his mohawk to flatten to his head in heavy strands. There was nothing threatening about his posture or attitude.
Arbor wanted to kick himself for being so paranoid.
“Yeah. I can help with that. It should be pretty easy.” Taking a quiet breath to settle himself, Arbor went back to his shower. He forced his face into the center of the spray, trying to wash away the stupid.
Dante peeked over in Arbor’s direction. “You’re looking a little skittish. I make you nervous?”
“It’s not you. I just have a lot of baggage.”
“Everyone’s got baggage. It’s just how you carry it.”
Arbor thought for a moment. “It’s getting lighter.” It was becoming easier to keep his anxieties from completely taking over. He only needed to be more sensible and think before reacting.
“Well, if it helps, I’m the scariest dude on this ship, and you got nothing to worry about.”
Arbor chuckled as the panic began to disarm itself. “It does, thanks. I never got the chance to thank you for the work you did on my quarters.”
“No sweat, brother. A man’s home should be comfortable. When Priest asked for help, I jumped on board. It was something that should’ve been done a long time ago.”
“I really appreciate it. We can go over your tools tomorrow morning. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Muchas gracias. I’ve been having trouble with them since that passenger McQuillen freaked out and nearly killed us all.”
Arbor could only nod as Dante all but growled out the last part. Costa’s presence had created a lasting ripple in Mrs. Claus’s data and a great deal of his time was spent tracking down and cleaning up the disruption. Re-initializing the whole system wasn’t an option while the ship was en route. It wasn’t surprising the effect could be felt in other random areas on the ship as well.
The worry was abating but a wave of sadness filled its place. They were deep into a voyage back to Alpha Centauri and it had been several weeks since the catastrophe on Omoikane. Arbor had no doubt Costa planned how his end would come, but the man deserved better. A lifetime’s worth of personal hell was at the core of all Costa’s problems. Even with all the games and manipulations, Arbor couldn’t help but sympathize with the turns his life took.
All of his resentment and jealousy dissipated with the destruction of Forethought Industries.
Still shaken and covered with debris, Arbor and Priest had gone back to the Santa Claus that night and never left the vessel’s safety for the rest of their leave. Standing in this very spot, they shared the shower, rinsing away the grime and horror of the evening’s events. Tending to each other, they were never out of contact. It wasn’t a sensual act, rather their need to be tethered. They clung to each other in the dark, flinching at every noise, and waited for the backlash that never came.
No authorities came knocking on the door. No one questioned them afterward. The suffocating tension lasted until the ship launched two days later. For some reason, the captain brought everyone back early. Neither he nor Priest spent much time discussing it. They wanted to move on.
“That’s all done now,” Arbor said.
Now thoroughly wet, Dante began washing himself with two overflowing handfuls of soap. “That’s good. The crew wasn’t happy to have him on board after that messed up shit that got you hurt. Yeah, I know the captain was involved, too, but McQuillen was in the middle of it. There’d have been a problem if he came back after we landed in Omoikane.”
Dante’s hands went straight down his chest and into his groin, bringing forth heaps of suds over the mounds of muscle. Was he putting on a show or was this his usual bathing routine? Not wanting to give him any ideas by staying too long, Arbor finished his rinse off and shut down the water.
“I better get going. The captain gave me permission to hang out with Priest on the bridge tonight. I haven’t been up there since I came on board.”
Dante nodded without looking, focused on his personal hygiene. “You have a good time. You deserve it.”
Water poured off Arbor’s body, leaving a trail as his wet footsteps slapped
the tile floor. Arbor almost stumbled into the wall as he collected his towel from the hook on the wall next to the entrance. It was a relief to bury his face in the thick fabric. He could barely see with the water running into his eyes.
Dante called out. “Arbor?” Every word the man said bore a vibration akin to an animal’s snarl.
Pulling his face from the towel, Arbor turned back. Facing the wall, Dante was still lathering, rivers of white foam outlining the valleys of his back and haunches. “Yes?”
“Make sure Priest is treating you right.”
Arbor’s brow arched with an odd sort of confusion. “Okay…I will.” He stared at the wide shoulders of the mechanic as if trying to read the man’s thoughts. Why would Dante be saying that?
Dante peered over his shoulder, his dark gaze roaming over Arbor’s dripping wet body. “’Cause if he don’t, brother, I’ll be knocking on your door.”
A new kind of shiver raced over Arbor’s body, and it wasn’t fear. “Really?” But the sensation wasn’t arousal either.
“Go have fun.” Dante turned back to his shower like he hadn’t said a word. “Come find me in the morning when you have the time.”
In a mild daze, Arbor headed into the locker room and retrieved his clothing. Had Dante really made a pass at him? The idea was absurd, yet there it was in front of him.
How many years had Arbor seen himself as someone unworthy of love and affection? How many years were wasted believing no one would see something worthwhile inside him due to a fluke of nature? Priest proved him wrong, even when he resisted the concept.
Arbor wasn’t actually interested. Dante proved to be a good-natured man, but his fetishes were too extreme for Arbor, if the other crew members’ rumors could be believed. Arbor didn’t do kinks. Someone else would have to make Dante happy. It was, however, flattering beyond measure.
Dante had a magnificent body men would kill for, but nothing trumped the charge in Arbor’s chest and quickening of his breath whenever he set eyes on Priest. When Priest smiled back, his feet threatened to resist gravity. Showering with Priest lately had been an exercise in self-control. There had been others in the room at the same time. No. Priest was all Arbor needed.
Priest and Pariahs Page 23
