Rogue Memory

by Tiffany Frost

  Ancestors.... Maia pointed out.

  Fuck, I got that from you.

  Among other things.

  She cleared her throat. “Do you have creamer?”

  “Here,” he leaned over her, his arm brushing against hers. She flinched away.

  “Thanks,” She took her cup and moved back around the counter, putting her cup down on the table.

  She packed up her bedding and put it away in the med bay.

  When she came back, Ivan was setting their plates on the table.

  “Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Stephanie mumbled, taking a bite. She wasn’t sure what it was she was eating - since she hadn’t absorbed all of Ivan’s memories - but it was fried, crisp on the outside and soft on the inside, somehow salty and sweet at the same time, and the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

  She went to ask what the macro-nutrient ratio was then realized it didn’t matter. Gaining a couple of pounds wasn’t going to get her into any more trouble with the corporation than she already was.

  “So, we didn’t really get into details last night... where are we going and what are we doing?” Ivan asked.

  Stephanie took a sip of coffee, stalling as she tried to organize her thoughts into something coherent. Find Sanctuary, go back to the corporation and rescue Caroline, get back to Sanctuary, and live happily ever after.

  “I want you to take me to your home. Show me everywhere you went with Caroline, introduce me to everyone she knew.”

  “I already tried to find her there, and I’m guessing you did too - that’s how you know about me, right? Or did Caroline talk about me before she went missing?”

  “Yeah... but we haven’t tried together. I was thinking if we pooled our resources... two heads are better than one.”

  “Right.” Ivan busied himself with eating breakfast. He looked from his plate to his coffee cup then back to his plate.

  “What’s wrong?” Stephanie frowned.

  He glanced back at her. “I didn’t exactly leave on good terms with a lot of people.”

  “Huh.”

  “It should be fine.”

  “We need to stop for supplies along the way. I didn’t stick around on Diderot long enough to get anything...”

  “Where are we now, anyway?” Ivan asked.

  “We’re near the Eagle Nebula.”

  “So, we can stop at Sakura Station for supplies.”

  “Sure,” Stephanie glanced down at the suit she was wearing. It was good for evading the tight video security on space stations. It wouldn’t be so good for blending in planet side.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any clothes that would fit me, would you?” she asked.

  Ivan smirked. “I’ll see what I can find.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I’m coming with you,” Stephanie said.

  They were standing by the airlock, having docked at the station.

  “In that?” Ivan looked her up and down.

  She was wearing a loose singlet and gym shorts that puffed around her, the drawstring bunching the fabric around her waist. The boots from the killer’s suit came up to the middle of her calves, shrunk fit around her skin with the same form fitting tech as the suit. She looked down at herself. It looked like she was wearing pajamas that didn’t belong to her.

  She sighed. “Maybe we can go to a dress shop first? I checked the map, there’s a small one near the docking bay.”

  “I can buy you a dress and come back.”

  “No, I...” she bit her lip.

  Ivan rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to sell you out. I don’t even know who you’re running from.”

  “How did you know I'm on the run?” Stephanie asked, eyes wide in surprise.

  Ivan laughed. “It doesn’t take a mind reader to figure out.”

  She froze. What did he mean by that? Did he know what she was?

  She raised her hand to touch him, in order to figure out how much he knew about her, and faltered.

  She was already on the edge. Hearing voices, seeing things and people that weren’t there. Using her powers any more than she had to might push her over.

  Her hand fell to her side and she frowned. How could she get him to take her with him?

  “I don’t want to be left alone,” she whispered.

  She kept her eyes downcast.

  Ivan sighed.

  Was that a yes or a no?

  “At least put a jacket on.”

  * * *

  Stephanie stood in the dressing room, the three-dimensional holo-copy of her body spinning slowly in circles in front of her.

  She didn’t want to leave Ivan by himself for too long, so she worked quickly, ordering the same pair of high-waisted stretch pants in three different colors - black, navy, and dark gray. Then she moved on to shirts. One white singlet. One black. She hesitated before adding a tunic blouse that could double as a dress and a leather jacket to the cart. A handful of neutral underwear followed.

  She wasted another minute trying to convince the machine to print an outfit directly into the room, rather than to the pick-up bag.

  When she finally got it to follow the order, it printed the items in the wrong order, starting with the jacket, before spitting out the white singlet. Then the navy pants and, finally, the underwear.

  She could have just worn the same pair she’d had on, after all, she’d cleaned them during the night. But after a week of wearing the same pair of panties, she wanted to see them burned.

  She got changed quickly, glad to have something new to put on.

  She kept the boots from the killer’s suit. Not wanting to waste time waiting for a pair of sneakers to print.

  She picked up the bag, stuffing Ivan’s clothes and her underwear inside.

  Anxiety spiked through her.

  What if Ivan isn’t there?

  There’s only one way to find out if he is.

  She opened the door.

  The mouth of an endwave pistol stared into her face.

  She looked past the weapon to a face. She didn’t recognize him but there was no doubt in her mind that he worked for the corporation.

  What do you think, can we take him? She directed the thought at the killer.

  No weapons. Against an endwave pistol. Odds aren’t high.

  He could attempt to disable the gun man. But there was a high probability the endwave pistol would go off, the radius of the electromagnetic neural disruption wave was large enough that it would probably take them both out.

  Stephanie dropped the bag and put her hands on her head.

  The man smiled. “Good girl. Come out, nice and slow.”

  “Where’s Ivan?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry, your little boyfriend is perfectly fine.” He nodded to a space behind the sofa she’d left Ivan sitting on. He lay crumpled behind the chair, a red mark spreading across one side of his cheek.

  Another man stood beside the door, a stunner held loosely in one hand.

  “Why don’t I get the stunner pointed at me?” she asked.

  “I find the ender has a little more weight to it. Besides, I don’t feel like carrying you back to our ship.”

  She gritted her teeth. There was no way she was going to walk right back into custody.

  “The second we’re in that hallway, I’ll scream,” she warned the man.

  “Go ahead,” he laughed. “We’ve got a warrant for your arrest. It’s a good one too, I’m sure you’ve seen it on the news feeds.”

  She shook her head. There hadn’t been that much time to check the news and since she’d ditched her coms after going through the first gate, she didn’t really have a way of checking it even if she’d had the time.

  “Oh? A young woman meeting your description by the name of Stephanie Dubois is wanted in connection to an attack against the princess of Cetus.”

  “But I didn’t-”

  “Sweetheart, I don’t care.” He nudged the gun toward the doorway.r />
  She glanced back at Ivan. Would he come after her?

  She started walking toward the door. She’d find a way to get away from the men and come back for him.

  “Don’t forget to give the boy his reward,” the man said to his partner.

  His partner dropped something on Ivan’s body and she panicked for a moment, thinking it was an explosive, and dove for Ivan without thinking.

  The man’s partner turned back to her, shooting her with something shiny that wrapped around her body and felt like a thousand bees stinging her at the same time. She went down, smacking her head on the side of the sofa, but not before she got a better look at what they’d dropped on his body.

  It was a cash card.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The son of a bitch had sold her out.

  Stephanie turned around slowly, taking in the utilitarian bunk she'd been stuffed into. White walls, white bed, white drawers along the sides. It lacked imagination, if nothing else. She openeda drawer experimentally, half hoping there would be something from the previous occupant that could help her get out of there.

  Nothing.

  She opened the other drawers, just to be safe, but they were all empty.

  Cold washed over her as she realized they hadn't cleared one of their rooms out in a rush so they'd have somewhere to lock her up. No. This room had been prepared for her. They knew they were going to find her. They were ready.

  She imagined this room waiting for her from the moment she’d fled the Ana’s room, late at night. Its cold, white outline pursuing her through space like a ghost. Haunting her.

  She shivered.

  I can't believe I trusted him, she thought. She knew better.

  When exactly did you trust him? Maia asked. Her voice was thoughtful, like she was wondering about something else.

  Stephanie ignored her. She sat down on the bed, feeling suddenly drained. She could barely remember why she was running. The corporation had arms everywhere. Like a giant space octopus. A giant space octopus with ghost rooms waiting to catch people.

  She blinked at the mental image.

  That didn't seem right.

  Drugs. In the air. The killer realized first.

  Stephanie lay back on the bed, her head spinning from the chemical. She hadn't even smelled anything.

  It smelled cold, Mai said. Cold and empty.

  Everything is cold and empty in space. Except for the parts that are full.

  What?

  It was a bad sign when you stopped making sense to the voices in your head.

  She heard a beeping sound from a long way off. Then a rushing wind. A moment later, the door opened.

  She tried to turn toward it to see who her visitor was, but she couldn't move.

  "Hey," a voice murmured. It was low and gruff and, for reasons she couldn't quite figure out, sent a shiver of fear down her spine.

  "I came to see what all the fuss was about." She heard the door hiss and then click shut behind the man.

  She tried to roll over but it felt like something was pressing her down. Like the gravity had somehow been turned way up high.

  He moved around the bed slowly, his shadow falling across her body long before she saw his face.

  He squatted down beside her. She stared at him. Dark brown eyes, pale skin. Someone who'd been out of the sun for a long time - serving ship duty probably. Clean shaven. Hair long for military service, short for anything else. His jaw was well defined. Handsome. Like an actor playing at being a soldier. But his eyes were cruel. Something about the way he squinted at her made her feel like she was being pinned to the bed. Like some science experiment.

  Well... Maia whispered. You are kind of a science experiment.

  Stephanie wished she had the strength to run.

  How long does that stuff take to wear off? She tried to ask.

  Her voice came out as a low grunt. "Hhnnnnnnn."

  He smiled. "I know, you can't move right now, which is going to take some of the fun out of things. But I cut it off before you lost consciousness. Just a half dose really."

  He brushed his fingertips over her cheek, moving a coil of hair behind her ear. His eyes softened.

  "You really are remarkably pretty." His breath was warm, caressing her lips. He was too close.

  Stephanie's breath caught in her throat. Her heartbeat raced.

  His lips crashed down on hers, hard and thin. He forced his tongue into her mouth. It felt like a piece of wet sand paper.

  She gagged, choking on the disgusting sensation.

  She tried to pull away but her body refused to cooperate, lying limp and powerless beneath him.

  He pulled back, studying her face.

  She tried to spit at him.

  Drool bubbled out of her mouth and rolled down her chin.

  Her eyes felt like they were burning. Tears scalded thin lines down her face that cooled quickly in the regulated environment. She felt cold all over, her skin prickling into goosebumps as it tried to draw away from his touch.

  Help me. She prayed, not entirely sure who she was asking for help from. Get me out of here.

  She closed her eyes, unable or unwilling to watch what was about to happen. Even though there was nothing she could do that would prevent her from feeling it.

  Go to sleep, the killer whispered, his voice washing over her like sunlight on a winter’s morning.

  Her eyelids fluttered.

  Go to sleep...

  * * *

  The killer opened his eyes.

  The situation was unlike any situation he had trained for, except for the fact that the man in front of him was about to die. He just had to figure out a way to kill him.

  He assessed his resources, coldly detached as the man ran his hands over the killer's body. It was not a body he was accustomed to using but it was strong and flexible. If only he hadn't breathed in that gas, rendering him half unconscious. His breathing accelerated, heart rate increasing, as he tried to clear the poison from his system. It would still be several minutes before he was free of its noxious restraint.

  He scanned the man, noting his eagerness as he tore the body's clothes off. The shirt caught on the shoulder and he tugged against the obstruction, ripping the fabric. They didn't have much time before he damaged the body, damaging the mind that held them all.

  "Hnnns," the killer said, trying to get the man's attention.

  The man buried his head in the body's exposed breasts, sucking at the flesh.

  "Hnnnnds," the killer repeated, louder this time, enunciating as clearly as was possible given the lethargy that filled his flesh.

  "What?" the man frowned.

  "Haaaannnnnds," the killer said.

  "Hands? You want to touch me? I knew you wanted it, you succubus slut." The man's mouth stretched into a crooked smile as he leered at her. His eyes were bright, almost feverish.

  He moved up the bed, pinning her between his knees as he straddled her waist. He fumbled at his waistband, struggling to undo his belt in his excitement. His erection tented the fabric of his trousers, struggling to break free and the killer felt Maia huddle back in the depths of their mind, holding Stephanie tight so that neither of them had to see what came next.

  The killer didn't blink.

  The man opened his trousers, freeing the engorged length. He pulled the killer’s hands up, wrapping them around his clammy flesh. The killer felt the flesh pulse against his hand but he ignored it, tapping into the body's powers.

  He rushed through the other man's thoughts, flying past the man's torrid fantasies, past his memories, digging deeper and deeper into the man's mind. He didn't stop to look, didn't allow any of the man's memories to penetrate the host body. He was like a ghost, slipping through the man's memories as the man slipped his flesh between the body's hands.

  Eventually, he found what he was looking for.

  He found the memory and he wrapped it tightly, drawing it into himself as he disengaged it from the man's mind, a memory b
uried so deep the man had forgotten he even possessed it. The first memory. The vital memory. The memory of how to breathe.

  And then he went further, into the primal part of the mind. He found the part of the mind responsible for regulating automatic systems, the heartbeat, chemical exchanges. He found it and he created a false memory, a memory he'd stolen from Maia. A memory of what it felt like to die.

  The man collapsed on top of the killer and fell to the side. His body slid off the bed, tumbling to the floor with an audible thump, followed by a long rattling drawn out hiss.

  And then there was silence.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Panic slammed into her chest, adrenaline chasing the remaining sedative from her system.

  Stephanie pushed herself to a sitting position, swinging her legs around the side of the bed, feet on the floor. She sat, staring downat the corpse of the soldier.

  What happened? Stephanie asked.

  I don't know, Maia said.