by Korn, Tracy
I was watching you out there, he says in my head, and I glance up at him. His eyes are barely open, and he looks like he could pass out at any second.
Which room is yours? I ask, silently.
"27-K," he says aloud as I read the doors—27-G…good, we're almost there. "I laughed at first," he says deliriously and out loud again as his head falls forward.
Liddick, hang on. Just a few more doors. I think, scanning again to the end of the hallway and hoping no one appears. We get to his room, and I help him raise his bracelet cuff to the reader. The door slides open, and I walk him to his bed as the door closes behind us.
"Here, just lie down," I say, helping him find his way. He sits, and in one fluid motion, collapses back onto the pillow without letting go of my arms, which makes me fall on top of him.
"Sorry! Are you OK?" I say, scrambling to get to my knees and push myself up, but he grips my hips and holds me in place. I'm so shocked that I momentarily freeze. He closes his eyes, but he's not asleep because I can still hear him in my head.
I laughed because I couldn't believe he finally won after all these years.
"Liddick, what are you talking about? Let me go so I can get you some water."
No water. No more water. His voice in my head trails off, and almost immediately, his hands release my hips and fall to his sides.
CHAPTER 42
The Net
"Liddick? Liddick!" I slide to the side of the bed and shake his arms. His eyes flutter. "Liddick, I have to get a medi-droid here right now."
"No…it will scan me…will find out my nanites are wrecked," he says through another cough. "It has to be…the nanites…"
"What are you talking about?"
They're not working. I think they're scrambled…he continues in his thoughts. The droid will trace the cause and report why. Can't believe I forgot… about nanites.
"Liddick? Don't stop talking. What does scrambled mean? They can't fix themselves?"
"They're what's…doing this," he says, closing his eyes again. "Need a dose of aligned ones to… reprogram mine."
"Hey! Wake up," I say, leaning over his chest and patting his cheek, gently at first, then audibly. "Liddick, wake up." He doesn't answer, but reaches up for my hands. His are still so cold, so I wrap my fingers around them again.
Closer…I hear inside. I lean in toward him, and feel the sudden chill of his fingertips on my throat, then feel them walking behind my jaw and entwining in my hair. He pulls me in closer, and I search his face, confused.
"Liddick, can you hear me?" I ask in a whispered voice, my mouth just inches away from his. His eyes are still closed, but his heartbeat under my hands is strong. "Liddick?" I say, then focus my thoughts before he passes out completely again. Where do I find another dose of the same nanites? Tell me how to get them for you, I say, hoping he can still hear me.
You already have them, he says silently, and brings my mouth down over his, parting my lips in a rush of momentum, suddenly moving his tongue over mine.
It happens in slow motion, but all at once—I never saw it coming. In this moment I'm disconnected from everything I knew before, plunging into a tunnel without anything to hold onto except him. My fingers curl down into the fabric of his collar, and his tighten gently in my hair as he pulls me in more firmly, his tongue passing over mine, moving in and out of my mouth until I feel dizzy. I lose all sense of up and down in this falling like we've jumped— like we had the audacity to jump when everything else said to stay, which is exactly something he would do—what I wish I could do more.
I forget to breathe and start to see white spots behind my eyelids, instinct, forcing me to pull back and gasp. It's like the first breath I've ever taken as the sudden, cool air burns my throat and lungs, but I take another and another despite the pain because I have to.
Liddick's hands are still woven through my hair, and I can feel the pressure of his fingers against the nape of my neck. I'm afraid to open my eyes, though, I don't even remember shutting them. I'm afraid to see where I really am and what really just happened because it's so nice to be in between knowing things for once—between right and wrong, after acting, but before understanding. And all at once it starts to slip away like waking up in the middle of a dream.
When I do open my eyes, his are clear and blue again, the bloodshot having faded completely. I search for words, something to put a framework of meaning around all this, but both my mind and throat lock up with the effort.
I should say that I'm sorry, but I've been waiting five years for another chance to do that right, he thinks, his trademark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I swallow hard, then swallow again in an effort to get my bearings. I think it works because I become aware that my fingers are not only still gripping his collar, but are actually pulling some of the hairs on his chest at the bottom of four thin, reddening welts. I try to relax my hand immediately, shocked, but it's stiff like rigor mortis has set in, and my fingers ache as I try to straighten them—how hard and how long was I holding on like this?
It baffles me. The entire feeling of being alive outside of myself baffles me, and this is how he always makes me feel with his unpredictable, blind jumping, just like in the ocean that night we all sneaked away from the port festival. I never would have followed him, and I never would have gotten stung by that jellyfish if he hadn't made me feel like I could do anything.
I blink, then blink again. I should move, I should leave, but none of these thoughts make it through to the version of myself that has the power to make them happen.
You're not cold anymore, is the first thought the inside version of me thinks, noticing the heat coming through his shirt as I try to straighten my fingers again.
Thanks to you, he replies. I look at him, puzzled because I realize that I have no idea how he's just suddenly better. We have the same classification…Hybrid: Coder and Reader Empath, so we have the same nanite infrastructure.
I must still look puzzled because he starts to chuckle until he coughs, then chuckles again. I find my voice, and with it, motor skills that help me pull back slowly. His hand falls to my shoulders, then down to my waist as I sit up beside him.
"What's funny?" I say out loud, still a little dizzy.
"The look on your face…like you're going to kill me, but you just saved me." He laughs around another cough. I'm back because of you…because of the fluid exchange. The dose of nanites I needed to set off the chain reaction realignment was in your saliva.
A sudden heat races up my throat and over my cheeks as my stomach stops hard and my heart begins to pound. Did he use me? Was that all this was?
He starts to chuckle again over broken coughs, shaking his head back and forth as adamantly as he can while sliding my hand over his heart, laying both of his on top of it.
"Whoa…whoa…" he says out loud. "Calm down, it's not like that. You just saved my life, Riptide." I feel the heat in my cheeks flare again, this time the result of conflicting feelings suddenly fighting for dominance—I want to leave right now, but part of me believes there's a reason not to, and I look away to sort it out. "Hey," he grips my hand, which he presses flat against his chest. "You can feel this and know, so don't do that," he says seriously, and this makes me look back at him.
He's quiet then as he meets my eyes without any of his standard issue flattery or charm, and I can feel his adamance pushing back at me, and underneath it, a…loss? A fear? No, he wouldn't just use me, I realize that now and nod as I try to understand this other feeling, but his eyes suddenly resume their normal flicker, and his mouth shifts into the smirk he wears like a favorite hat.
"Liddick, wh—" I start to ask him what he was afraid of just now, but he interrupts me.
"Though, for the record, rushing up on you like Hart did…not really my style," he closes his eyes in a long blink and shakes his head again. "Let's chalk that one up to being medically necessary," he grins, then looks at me soberly. "When I kiss you, I want you to know it's coming." I tr
y to resurrect my question, but after hearing that, it's gone, and I realize my mouth is dry and my muscles feel weak. I try to think of something to say, but I can't. "It just hit you, didn't it?" he asks. "The fatigue?"
"Just now," I say, nodding and wishing I could lie down right here and sleep for three days.
"It's the defrag. Your nanites are essentially beating the alignment into my wrecked ones, which probably started trying to corrupt yours the second they entered your body," he says, and I look at him in surprise. "No! Don't worry," he says, chuckling around a cough again. "They're way too outnumbered. The fatigue will pass once they're repaired," he nods for emphasis, and I feel my outrage start to subside.
"And you?" I ask. "The same thing is happening in reverse inside you?"
"Essentially, but it'll take a lot longer for yours to make their way through. They're outnumbered too, but a lot stronger. Of course, we could expedite things if you'd like to kiss me again," he says, raising my hand to his lips, then angling his head and cocking an eyebrow at me as he kisses my fingers. And again, I can't help but smile at his stupid, reckless bravery.
"You're so impossible," I say, shaking my head and feeling order restore inside myself about him, about Arco, and about me. And then I remember…Arco.
"Whoa, what's wrong?" Liddick asks without missing a beat, and I scramble to downplay any uncertainty I have about what Arco's nanites might be doing to me now, or mine to him if kissing is all it takes to set off chain reactions like this.
"What happens if the nanites exchanged aren't the same?" I ask, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. Liddick smirks in understanding, and I suddenly wish I just would have looked up one of the tutorials Ellis is always going on about instead of asking.
"Nothing. They can't identify, Rip," he answers, pressing my hand to his chest again. "Nanites only see their own." He locks his eyes with mine, and I swallow hard, trying to steady the wave rising in my chest before it crashes and floods everything again. I clear my throat and move back to give him some room.
"Can you walk?" I ask, my voice sounding too loud and too high in my ears.
"I think so," he says, smiling, and after a second as he props up on his elbows. I stand, and he swings his legs over the side of the bed and braces his hand on his nightstand. He pushes up, then stands there for a few seconds to make sure he's not going to fall right back down, and when he's sure, he looks at me and nods. He takes a slow step, then another, then stumbles, and I move to help steady him.
"Are you OK?" I ask. He nods again, and I take a step back, but his arm wraps around my shoulder and pulls me back into him.
"But better safe than sorry," he grins again. Why is everything he says and does to push the limit like this so…likable? But maybe it's not. Maybe he just wants me to believe it is.
Liddick? I ask him in my thoughts. Did you push me to feel that way? When we were…I mean, back there? He takes in a deep breath and pulls me closer to him, then leans over and kisses my temple. He stops walking just before we open the door, turns to face me, and holds my hand to his chest again.
"Read me and see," he says, looking into my eyes, unguarded like he did before, which is too intense and makes me look away.
"I don't know how to do that. I just hadn't…"
Hadn't ever felt like that, he thinks, which pulls my eyes back to his. I know.
You know because you put it there? I ask, feeling the edge that would be obvious in my voice.
I know because that's how I felt too—like the whole world was right there, just one step off the edge…I know you could feel it too, and you trusted me enough to take it. That's the only way I'll ever want this, Riptide—I'll never push you. He thinks, lowering his chin to find my eyes, and I feel a comfort spread in my chest when I hear his childhood nickname for me again. He smiles wide, then pulls me into an obnoxious, sloppy hug. He's warm everywhere now, and a feeling of happiness settles over me in knowing that he's all right. Seeing him like that—fading right there in front of me…I never want to feel like that again. They say guilt is the worst feeling in the world, but it's not. It's helplessness.
"What time are we going to Records?" he asks through my hair. I maneuver my wrist cuff into sight and suck in a short gasp.
"10 minutes ago," I say, pulling back from him and turning toward the door. "Come on, they probably already started."
CHAPTER 43
Developments
Liddick walks more slowly than he normally does as we make our way to the Records room, which is fine with me because it feels like I've been hiking all day, my muscles and joints starting to stiffen in protest of any more effort I might have in mind. He doesn't put his arm back around me for support once we leave his room, and while I'm glad that he's strong enough to walk without it, I admit I also feel a little disappointed.
Maybe I'm just picking up something he's feeling, though, because as my mind clears, I know I can't be with Liddick like that. We may be a lot alike, but no matter how exciting his way of living might be, I can't go clanging around in the world like that with no rules or responsibilities. That's how people get hurt.
So we're friends, and that's it. What happened back there was just medically necessary like he said, and I'll just have to explain that to Arco, even though my stomach plummets at the thought.
"What's wrong?" Liddick asks, looking over at me. I don't know if I'll ever get used to having an internal emotional megaphone like this with him.
"I have to tell Arco," I say, looking at the ground as we walk.
"Why?" he asks, narrowing his eyes like it's the most idiotic thing he's ever heard.
"Because I can't keep a secret about something like this from him," I answer quickly, trying to disguise my growing anxiety with self-righteousness.
"It's just going to cause trouble, and we've already decided what it was back there—you saved my life, right? I hope you're not counting that as my shot," he says, raising his eyebrow and grinning.
"I know, but—"
"Unless, of course, you're feeling like a shuttle just parked on your chest because you know as well as I do that we can call it whatever we want, but it doesn't really change what it was," he slows his pace, then stops and looks at me. "And telling Hart now is the only way you think you can get that shuttle to move," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "That's what's really bothering you about seeing him in two minutes."
I start to flare, but then realize that he's right about the time, if nothing else, and I start walking again without responding. He catches up with me, but doesn't ask me anything else before we're halfway to the Records room, where I realize I still don't know what to do. Arco will see something is wrong like he always does, which will just complicate everything now more than it already is.
"I don't know if what I think dictates what I do anymore, or if what I do dictates what I think," I answer. "All I know is that I'm tired of not knowing what to expect down here."
"It's not about knowing what to expect, Riptide. It's about knowing how to keep your head above water."
I let his words hang in the air before me for a minute. Would telling Arco just do more harm than good, and do I only worry about this because I feel like I have something to hide? I decide I have to make that decision before I can say anything, and I'm not going to be able to do that in the 30 seconds it's going to take to close the distance between us and the threshold of the Records room, where I can already see Jax, Tieg, Myra, Avis, Arco, and Ellis sitting around the interview station where Abe Lincoln is chattering away silently inside the projection field. Jax paces behind the couch with his arms crossed as Arco talks, and I'm a little relieved that it looks like he's explaining what happened in the Stingray without me there—I wasn't looking forward to reliving that.
Several students are scattered at the other stations tonight, some in red and some in green jumpsuits, so they must not be first years like us. We walk up to our group, and I take a seat on the couch next to Tieg, a decision I make to
put a buffer between him and Liddick as I remember the tensions between them over Dez. But I clearly don't think this through as a wave of panic jogs my memory about the rest of what Liddick said—about how Tieg saw Arco kissing me by the moon pool and then tweaked out about it over the comms system. Tieg keeps his eyes forward and crosses his arms over his chest as I approach, and my own chest starts to clench. I make a quick scan of the available seating, but there's nowhere else to go now. I take a seat as Arco smiles at me initially, but then brings his brows together just long enough that I notice…crite. I try to smile back at him reassuringly while he continues talking, then I glance at Liddick. He already knows something is wrong, I think.
He thinks it's Tieg, but stop worrying. I'll take care of it all.
What do you mean you'll—
"Hart, hey, sorry to interrupt you, but there's something you should know," he says, and I feel ice climb up every vertebra in my spine.
Liddick, are you split? What are you doing? I'll tell him myself, but I have to think about—
"We have to go after Vox and Fraya ourselves. Tonight. Reynolt and Denison are involved somehow, and any team they send won't be on a rescue mission." Liddick continues. Arco angles his head and cocks his eyebrow.
"How do you know that?" he asks.
"Because either the Reynolt who was down there before the launch was the real one, or the Empath clones operate on a different frequency. She wasn't empty like the others at first, but when we told her what happened in the moon pool bay? That's when the ice went up. They're covering for something," he says, then angles his head at me. "Ask her."
Everyone's eyes fall on me, and I take a breath. "He's right," I say, swallowing. "I got the same impression. I could tell she knew Vox and Fraya were gone as soon as I saw her, but when I confirmed it by telling her, she just pulled a curtain. And Denison wasn't even fazed by the news. I don't trust them."
"All right, but even if that's true, how are we supposed to go after them ourselves?" Avis asks, leaning in.
