Lust Plague (Steamwork Chronicles)

by Silverwood, Cari

  Kaysana sat up, shuffled her suddenly weak legs under her with the boy still in her arms, then managed to stand by using her shaking arm as a prop.

  “Afternoon, Lieutenant. Captain Kaysana Onomi of the Art of War.” Her throat closed up a bit as she said her ship’s name. She swallowed, hoisted the child into a better position. “Nice day.”

  The woman nodded. “I know of you…” Her mouth twitched. “A nice day? Is it?”

  “Yes. It is now.” She let her gaze rest unfocused on what lay beyond the lieutenant. Memory clicked. “Uh. What am I thinking? There’s a wolf below the rock. Make sure he’s taken care of. He killed a lot of the zombs.” If he wasn’t alive, she couldn’t bear to see. If she touched his fur and found him lifeless… Damn, where’s my courage?

  “Then there’s the airship Emshalley. There’s a young woman—”

  “Done. Being boarded as we speak.”

  And it had to be Sten in the machine.

  “And there’s a man…a frankenstruct in the war engine. I’d like to know he’s okay.” While she thought up an excuse for her interest, she probed her teeth with her tongue. “Uh, he saved us all.”

  “I saw that. Hard not to. A team’s rappelled onto the cockpit. Their signals said he’s in custody. Routine—we’re just being cautious. That thing’s got enough firepower to take out everything here. He’ll be okay. As to the wolf…we’ve got more docs than we do live people here.” The lieutenant snapped her fingers, and one soldier turned and sprinted away, yelling for a medic. She frowned, thumb rubbing the blue stippled stock of her pistol. “The boy?”

  “Not mine.” She kissed his head. “I don’t know if his parents are…”

  “Let me down, please,” the boy piped up while wriggling. He extended his hand, chubby finger pointing. “Tha’s my papi!”

  “It is?” Kaysana followed the line of his finger. She lowered him to the ground.

  Though he stumbled now and then, a weary brown-haired man strode toward the rock. Like all of them, his clothes were mottled with blood. He broke into a run.

  “Papi!” The soldiers moved aside to let the boy through.

  When his father swept the boy into his arms and whirled him around, kissing him and hugging him hard, something settled like mud into Kaysana’s chest. “Least he’s got someone.”

  “Yes. And you?” The lieutenant gestured.

  And me? “And me, what?” I don’t, do I? Not him…I sent him away. “No, I don’t have anyone—”

  “I meant are you wounded anywhere? It’s hard to tell with all the blood. I’d better let the docs check you out.”

  If she waited, Sten would arrive. He’d be climbing down right now if she knew him. Coming for her. She swayed, trying hard to think despite the deep fatigue leaching in. If she let him, right now when she could barely stand, she’d never get him out of her system. She needed her brain thinking at full capacity, not like it was, with syrup gluing up the works.

  “Lieutenant.” She eyed her—efficiency fairly glowed off the woman’s uniform. “Can you get me back to my base ASAP? I need a gyro and pilot. I have to report.”

  She barely hesitated. “You get on a stretcher for me, along with a doctor to check you over on the way, and I can get you up to the hospital airship a few miles back. Past that, you need to speak to the captain. Okay?”

  Voices below the rock talked of Cadrach and his wounds. She caught snippets.

  “He’s just concussed.”

  Oh thank God.

  “Needs sutures.”

  “Muzzle?” a man asked.

  She put her hand on her knee, leaned over, and yelled. “Don’t you dare muzzle him! His owner will be here soon. Big man called Sten. Get him to help you!”

  Stunned silence ensued. Then the man called a quiet, “Sure, we’ll wait, ma’am.”

  “Good,” she muttered. Done. “Right now, Lieutenant? Can you get me that stretcher right now?”

  “Yes.”

  She’d get to the hospital airship first, worry about how to get more transport once aboard.

  After slowly descending the two ledges with her knees barely holding her up, she came face-to-face with the doctor who’d brought the stretcher. He was one of the few men in the rescue force. As matter-of-factly as a gardener inspecting a diseased plant, he examined her. His white gloves and parka were soon smudged red.

  “Had some water yet?” He kinked a gray hairy eyebrow.

  “No.” And suddenly her throat was parched.

  “Here, then.” He unhooked a canteen and placed it in her hand, then muttered as he poked and felt. A nurse beside him took notes as he dictated. “Dehydrated…right ear has a portion torn away. Needs debriding and suturing. Scalp wound. That one may just need cleansing.” He looked up. “A lot of blood on you, but I’m guessing not yours? Anywhere else hurt? Other wounds?”

  “No.” She shook her head. Already the water revived her, singing into her tissues like a swig of whiskey. “Tired is all. Get me up to the ship, please.”

  “Right. They’ll check you more thoroughly up there.”

  She sucked at her bottom lip. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

  Then she went and did what she shouldn’t—trailed around the rock on unsteady feet to find Cadrach. The three medical staff surrounding him let her through. The wolf looked blearier than she felt, and though he hadn’t risen, his head wobbled and one eye was filled with blood. She laid her hand on his head, gently patting him. “Hey there. Don’t worry. You’ve got more docs than I have, you know? I’ve got to go, but he’ll be here soon.” Not saying his name seemed wise. It’d stick in her throat.

  She pinned a young brunette with her gaze. Doctor? Nurse? The stethoscope said enough. “His eye going to be okay?”

  “Well…” The stethoscope swung like a pendulum in her hand. “Pupil seems normal. Looks like it’s scleral bleeding only. With sutures in that wound and rest, he should be fine.”

  “Thanks.”

  The wolf flicked his ears forward and whined. He struggled to get upright. Heavy approaching footsteps made Kaysana shut her eyes. Mistake. Big mistake. He’s here. On the other hand, relief flooded her. Guess maybe I wanted to see him. Not like me to be a chicken anyway—going up to the ship without knowing he’s okay…bad move. I'd only have worried.

  Seemed her subconscious knew more than she did.

  When his hand landed softly on her shoulder, despite being so weary every piece of her felt flat as a snail beneath a tire, her body stirred, maybe her soul too. He leaned past her to comfort Cadrach. She so wanted to shift sideways and sink into his arms.

  No. I’m tired, not thinking right.

  Then the urge rushed on her so hard she could see herself falling into his arms. God, no. I can’t! Not here where everyone would notice. Not ever.

  She glanced sideways. He wasn’t looking at her, just concentrating on talking to Cadrach while using her as a post to lean on. Except when she looked down at his hand, she spotted bandages. And he wasn’t really putting weight on her. More like he just wanted to touch.

  “You okay too?” His words were soft enough that most wouldn’t hear.

  He understands…that I want to keep this distant. That I can’t acknowledge, what…how I really feel? Oh, this is just so hard. Why does it have to be so difficult to walk away? She sighed. “Yeah, I’m okay. Your hands, though. What happened to them?”

  “Frostbite. It’s nothing. Remember—we heal fast.”

  “Just frostbite? That’s a lot of bandaging for just frostbite.”

  “I’ll live. But thanks. Nice to see you're worried about me.”

  “Huh.” Egotistical bastard. “Captain’s prerogative, I look after my men.”

  “Oh? So I’m one of your ‘men,’ am I?”

  The suggestive way he waggled his eyebrows made her scowl. If he wasn't so damn plain nice, I’d kick him somewhere painful.

  “And don’t change the subject. I asked about you. There’s a bit of your ear missing
. You sure you’re okay?”

  And that almost made her laugh. In the middle of this craptacular disaster, she almost laughed. Who else but Sten would be so laid-back about his…about her missing a part of her ear? She’d nearly thought girlfriend there. As if that word could in any way describe what she and Sten were…had done… I am so mixed-up.

  Then she looked at him properly, not like he was a tarantula she’d found under her chair. This big, shaggy caveman who wrung every bit of excitement out of life, hell, out of her when she let him. Oh, I do adore him. Tears pricked her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t be with you, Sten.”

  Despite the whisper, the brunette looked sharply at her.

  Damn, I don’t care right now. Look all you like, lady. If I’m saying good-bye, I’ll say it out loud. “Good-bye.” She cleared her throat. “Best if we keep away from each other from now on. Thank you for coming to help us all.”

  But as she walked away, his voice hit her, thunderous as a distant avalanche on a bright sunny day. “Not so fast. I’ll see you on the ship. We have things to talk about.”

  She faltered but kept going. Annoyance spiked. Didn’t the man know when to end things?

  Not that she was much better. Even over the stench of smoke and gore, she could smell him, could feel where he’d pressed against her. He’s right. We have to talk.

  Except she couldn’t bear to.

  Chapter Twenty

  The confusion on the hospital ship was an organized one. The Queen Margeurite was an old cruise liner the Brito-Gallic League had commandeered, and her gymnasium had been turned into a treatment area. Cuts and crushing injuries and bites were common among the survivors. Kaysana waited her turn on a neatly made-up, white-sheeted bed that was one of a row of twenty. With five columns of each row…two hundred beds, they’d definitely overestimated the casualties.

  Last time I was in a gymnasium was on the Art of War. A distant memory but a poignant one. Ling had been alive back then.

  Sitting still wasn’t her. She got up off the bed and prowled along the row, greeting each person—most, like the rescue force, were women.

  The boy was bouncing on a bed with his exhausted father smiling weakly up at him from where he lay with his hands behind his head.

  “Hi there.” She managed a grin.

  “Ooops.” The boy covered his mouth and shrank down beside his father.

  “Thank you, Capitan. We are both grateful. Without you and your friend, we would all be dead.” His dark complexion hinted at true Mexican heritage—not many of the purebloods left after the PME had expanded across a quarter of the world.

  He heaved himself into a sitting position and stuck out his hand. Kaysana hesitated only a second before taking it. Red skin—crusted with blood. Seeing all the dried blood on the people against the stark white of their bedding lent a bizarre and macabre aura to the room. How will any of us ever forget this day?

  “My pleasure, sir.” Her voice was cracked and rasping still. The smoke hadn’t left her nostrils, nor the smell of death. Her words were automatic, but she meant them. “Only too happy to have helped. Sten did much of it.”

  “Yes.” He caressed his son’s head. “Please excuse Miguel. I guess when he saw you, he remembered…what happened. My wife—” Grief bled darkness into his eyes; then he shook his head as if dismissing his thoughts. “You may wish to know your partner is over there, being fixed by the doctors. Tell him from us all, please, when he is recovered, how much we are grateful.”

  “I will.” Recovered? Sten was okay, wasn’t he?

  At least here there were no screams or moans. People seemed to have decided that no matter their wounds, they would bear them in silence. Shock perhaps? Or dignity. With only the clinks of surgical instruments and the murmur of doctors and nurses making gentle inquiries, this room seemed a haven of serenity.

  As she approached the surgical area, Kaysana braced herself.

  From yards away, she recognized his boots and trousers. He lay on his back, not moving at all, surrounded by medical staff and equipment. Just anesthetic, nothing more, she knew it, knew it, knew it. But her stomach clamped down, and a headache pulsed at her temples all the way, until she saw his chest rise. She halted. Knew he was alive, it was just the way… Damn I can’t lie to myself. I care too much for him. Cutting myself off from him is going to be agony.

  So why am I doing it? She couldn’t answer that. Not yet.

  A monolith of tiered metal towered beside Sten’s upper body while a doctor wielded a probe that flashed a buzzing green…like some giant welding machine, as if Sten was a metal creation and not living flesh.

  A metal mask was fastened over the lower half of his face. Two doctors and a nurse worked on his hands, and one doctor placed purple sutures with the tiniest of needles. The flesh of Sten’s palms and fingers seemed raw and bereft of skin. Blood collected in his palms, spilling drip drop to the floor.

  More blood.

  Cold flooded her. The room whited out and wavered. She latched on to the back of a chair, waiting for everything to settle. A hundred thousand gallons of blood has been spilled today, but seeing his makes me woozy? Oh wonderful. She chewed her lip. Sten’s eyes were closed, his face slack yet peaceful. Beneath the green drapes, his chest rose and fell as steadily as the waves of a vast ocean.

  “Yes?” The doctor at the head of the operating table eyed her from above his white mask, raised an eyebrow. “Can we help you?”

  “I’m”—she ran a finger around the neck of her opened jacket—“his friend. Is he going to be okay?”

  “We’re replacing the skin that was torn away with cloned skin. Being a frankenstruct”—he seemed lost in thought for a moment—“I’d say within a week he should be on the mend and the sutures will be out.”

  “Good. How did he lose the skin?” The needle in the second doctor’s hand went in and out like a clockwork fang.

  “The report said he tore it away after freezing it to the, uh”—he adjusted something on the metal mask, dripped liquid from a pipette onto the mouth area—“aiming wheel of some cannon. Stupid. If he’d not just ripped free, the damage would have been less.”

  The suturing doctor chuckled. “Guess he was eager to get to a sexy date, hey?” He glanced up. “Pardon me, Captain. I joke when I do surgery—steadies my hand and mind. He’s a brave man.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “You might want to know, when he went under, he was talking about the three people who got chewed up by his gun along with the zombies. The ether brings such worries out. It might be best if you talk it over and reassure him later.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you for your concern.” Another reason to talk. This was a conspiracy, but…Sten was grieving over the civilians killed?

  With Emily still unaccounted for, she questioned passing staff until one remembered seeing a blonde pigtailed woman come aboard. She smiled and thanked the nurse, then found a bed to park herself on. Watching the rest of Sten’s surgery was strangely calming. Least this way she knew what was happening.

  “Hey, Captain.” Emily sank onto the bed and drew her feet up, pulled her ankles over so she sat cross-legged in a lotus.

  “Hey, Emily. I gather you shot some zombies for me?”

  Emily nodded. “That was me. So frickin’ glad I shot straight.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed Emily’s hand. “I didn’t fancy being their dinner.” Kaysana took her much chewed fingernail from between her teeth. Speaking so informally to a crew member would’ve been unbelievably lax a few days ago. Emily just grinned and tossed her pigtail back over her shoulder. Like Kaysana she still wore her PME furs, albeit with the front opened. The temperature in the airship was well above freezing.

  “You got it bad, huh?” She nodded toward the surgeons and Sten.

  “Got what bad, First Librarian, Ensign First Class, Emily Winterborne? And may I say what an appropriate name you have?”

  “You don’t scare me
.” Her grin widened. “Not anymore. How’s he doing?”

  “Sten?” She couldn’t stop herself from checking. Still being stitched and welded. “He’s doing good. The doctors seem to know what they’re up to.” On the tables either side of Sten’s, a man had his fractured arm set and a woman’s leg was being operated on. “What in hell is that green zapping machine?”

  “We-ell, Corey says it’s some new thing from the Hellene Nation—makes wounds heal faster.”

  “Corey?” Was Emily blushing?

  “He’s a nice guy I met today—a nurse. He’s rather dreamy.”

  “Emily!” She tilted one eyebrow way up, putting on her skeptical look.

  “What?”

  How fast did Emily work? And looking for romance on today, of all days? But, she’d seen Emily under stress. The woman was bubbly yet also the embodiment of sweetness, with a backbone forged of steel. And perhaps this was how she coped? By just zoning it all out?

  “I’m thinking of making him my beau…just like Sten is yours.”

  Kaysana gaped. “He is not—”

  “No?” She leaned in to whisper. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. You know that. Even if what you and Sten got up to on the roof was different…and damn hot. My.” She rolled her eyes upward for a second, then giggled. “Okay, I’ll admit it kinda turned me on too.”

  That flattened Kaysana even more. This was the real world. What had happened wasn’t going away. Emily mightn’t tell, but she still knew.

  “Oh, come on.” After looking around again, she continued. “You can’t tell me you don’t have a thing going on still? That wasn’t all just this lust plague?”

  Something made her tell the truth. The three of them had shared disaster and tragedy together. She’d never forget them, ever. No matter what. “Yes. I have a thing for him, but I don’t see how it can ever be…how we…” Her face scrunched up, and she bowed her head as she struggled for the words. “Oh, Emily.” Kaysana reached over and hugged her.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” Emily patted her shoulder. “It’s all good. Things will work out. I got your back and you got mine. And Sten, well, he’s good for covering both our asses.” She giggled again. “Ignore that! It came out kinda wrong.”