by Cathryn Cade
The pirates remained frozen in place, weapons aimed, ready to fire. Playa glided through their midst like a small queen. She stopped at Var's side, and looked down at him and DR.
“What's she think she's doing?” Haro asked at Ilya's shoulder.
“She's Indigon,” Ilya said under her breath. “Really, quarking strong Indigon.”
“Whoa,” he breathed. He eased away to Qala's side.
Ilya waited tensely, along with everyone else, for Playa to do what she had to do.
After several long, long moments, the small woman sank back in her chair. “It's done. He's free,” she said aloud.
Var looked up at her through the sweat dripping down his face. “You pushed Blu out of his mind, the way you did for me?”
Playa nodded, now pale as soy creamer. “Yes.”
“Bek,” Ilya called.
“I've got her.” The guard captain strode to Playa, holstering his laser weapon.
After that, things happened quickly. DR-700, who seemed every bit as lost and disoriented as Var had been after being released from Blu's mind invasion, was helped to a divan—the chairs being too small for his frame—and divested of his battle gear. He was young, Ilya saw when they took his helmet off—so young there were few lines on his face and despite his hulking size, his face was that of a bewildered boy with light brown hair plastered to his scalp with sweat, and green eyes. His nose was swollen, as was his lip. Blood welled from a cut on his upper lip and chin.
“We'll be punished,” he told Var, his hands clenching and unclenching. “We're—we're in big trouble, VX. Big trouble.”
“You're not going back there, DR” Var assured him, on one knee by the divan. “Neither of us is—I swear it. Now can you let Stitch look at your face? I punched you pretty hard.”
The younger cyborg cast a hunted look at Stitch. Ilya bit her lip to hide a sudden smile—he was like a skrog afraid of a mawwr. “I'm okay,” he said quickly.
Var leaned closer. “No, this isn't like with the Doctor. Stitch won't hurt you. He gives you gesics for the pain—you remember those?”
DR shrugged. “I ... guess so. Not really.”
Var said something else, too low for the rest of them to hear. Slowly, DR nodded, and Stitch moved in to care for him.
Across their heads, Ilya met Bek's gaze. He jerked his head to her, and she gave one last look to Var, making sure he wasn't bleeding from any places other than a small cut on his cheek. Then she followed Bek to one side of the room. She was shaking with suppressed fury.
“Blu purposely didn't give them gesics?” she gritted through her teeth. “The bastard—I'll show him what pain is.”
A cool hand covered her clenched fist. Playa gave her pleading look from exhausted blue eyes. “Ilya, please. You must calm. VX—your husband will become upset again.”
Ilya took a breath and blew it out slowly. “Right,” she mumbled. She could calm—maybe.
“You okay?” she asked Playa. “You look used up.”
“I'll take care of her,” Bek said, moving to rest one hand on the back of Playa's chair. “What d'you want us to do with DR? He and VX must stay out of sight.”
Ilya put a hand to her forehead. “Hells, I don't know. Any empty rooms around here?”
Bek gave her an odd look. “Yes. I thought you knew—there are empty suites on both sides of you. Vadyal kept them for special guests.” His sneer spoke volumes about those guests.
“Var should stay with his friend,” Playa said.
True. He could help keep the kid calm, while the rest of them figured out what the hells they were gonna do to get root out Blu. And they'd better work fast, before he sent more 'borgs after them.
Because with ten cyborg warriors still in his control, if he wanted to, the doctor could turn the casino and hotel into a bloodbath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Bek wanted Playa to go and rest, but she kept shaking her head, so finally he gave up, and stalked off to send orders to his guards.
Orson and Dano took some of Ilya's tech to sweep the adjoining suites for surveillance. They came back shortly to lead Var and his towering friend off to the suite on one side for food and rest, while Haro went to have the party's luggage moved to the other empty suite. Ilya ordered her bedroom cleaned and refurbished, and sent for a meal and drinks.
Everyone gathered back in her office, minus Var, and DR, who was asleep thanks to Stitch's gesics. Ilya's friends dug into the trays of fresh, fancy foods with enthusiasm, piling their plates high, and then ranging themselves on the divans and chairs to eat. Playa sat, eyes closed, clutching a mug of hot sweet tea. Bek paced.
“Where're the real drinks?” Ryder demanded, looking askance at the selection of carafes of cold tea and juices.
“Sorry, no alcohol or legals except caffeine,” Bek said. “We all need to be sharp. When DR-700 doesn't come back with VX in the next hour, their master is going to be furious, and you can bet he's got contingency plans in place.”
Ryder examined the green veg he held in his hand. “So what's your battle plan here, captain?”
Bek and Ilya exchanged a look. “Not discussing it until Var is back,” Bek said. “He's key to the operation.”
“Why?”
“Because he has intel we need,” Bek said. His tone added, 'Now shut up and eat'.
Ryder bit the green veg with a snap of his strong teeth and chewed, glaring at Bek, who returned the look with interest.
Ilya fiddled with the meatroll she'd chosen, then set it down and filled with a veg, until Haro kicked her gently on one silver bootie. “Relax, kid. Var's close by. You'll have plenty of time after we sort this shit out.”
She looked around and saw all her friends watching her with varying degrees of sympathy and curiosity.
“Okay, I'm just going to say what you're all thinking,” Dano said finally, waving his hands. “Var is alive—somehow. Even though Haro, Qala, Stark and Pede all saw him die in this very place. And Ilya, you've gotta be going through emotions at warp-speed. So now that's out there.”
He sat back in the circle of Orson's arm and took a large drink of his purple berry juice.
“Thing we need to know now,” Ryder said, “How much of him is still Var, and how much is 'borg? As in, can we count on him, or do he and his giant-ass pal need to be locked down while we root out the rezzed doc who created them?”
“No, we need him,” Bek said. “The man knows more about Dr. Blu and his operation than anyone else alive, except DR, who I hope is currently unconscious, because he's gonna need the rest.”
“And Blu didn't create anyone, he took men and enhanced them,” Ilya corrected with a snarl. “Var is still Var. So don't be thinking of him as some cerametal-brained bot. You've all known him as long as I have, some of you longer. And you know he's the best man you could ever have at your side in a fight. Haro, he's had your back in some black-holish situations that Joran Stark got you into, that you wouldn't have walked out of without Var.”
Her friends were looking over her shoulder. Haro gave her a half-grin around his huge mouthful of yama.
Ilya turned to find Var standing in the doorway behind her. He gave Ilya a strange look and slowly walked into the room. She patted the divan beside her, and he hesitated before moving to sit beside her. His big hands landed on his thighs and tightened. He was uncomfortable. And why wouldn't he be? Walking into a group of his oldest friends after they'd clearly been discussing him—some in a negative way.
She opened her mouth to reassure him, but Qala beat her to it.
“For the record,” the lanky redhead said to Var. “I don't have any doubts you're steady. You handled that big kid the way any of us would've. Put him down but didn't hurt him more than you had to.”
“Agreed,” Orson said. “And by the way, it's good to have you back, my friend.”
“Hells, yeah,” Haro mumbled around his bite of sandwich. He swallowed. “Var—man ... can't believe I didn't say it before. So good to see yo
u.”
Var relaxed a little, and gave them each a chin lift of acknowledgment.
“Hugs all 'round,” Ryder drawled, a sneer on his lean face. “I don't know you, Var or VX or whoever you are now. All you need to know about me is, I'm in charge of the band now that Stark is gone.”
“Until they vote you out, anyway,” Ilya muttered.
Then as Var moved uneasily, she took a breath and let it out, reminding herself to keep her cool for his sake.
What she really wanted to do was throw herself onto his lap and hold on so tightly he'd never get loose. Then she wanted to talk, in between kissing him all over his face, and just holding him. She settled for moving closer, so she could press her thigh against his, and just feel him—warm and solid and alive.
She waved a hovertray over to them. “Here, eat, honey. Had this tray made up just for you.” It contained all the foods he'd enjoyed the first time she'd fed him here, and none of the purple veg he hadn't liked, or any of the candy flowers. There was a heaping basket of crispies, plump and oozing melty chocolate.
“Although you could save some of those crispies for me,” Haro said, craning his neck to survey Var's tray. “I didn't get any of those.”
Qala swatted him. “Yes, we did. They're on one of these trays—look around.”
Deadpan, Var tossed him one of the crispies from his own tray. It landed on Haro's chest and slid down, right onto the half-empty plate he had propped on his lean belly, leaving a smear of chocolate on Haro's tan vest. Haro stared down, mouth open and a bite of green veg hanging off his lip.
Qala snickered, and this set Dano off. Within seconds, everyone was laughing, including Haro. Ryder shook his head, but he was grinning.
Var merely took a huge bite of plump meatroll and chewed with gusto.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“So can someone explain—'cause I think we all wanna know,” Qala asked, “What exactly did this Blu, uh, do to Var and the others?”
Playa opened her eyes and sat up straight. She looked a little better now. “I can explain. Blu is, like myself, an Indigon. I'm sure you all know that many of our race can ... affect thoughts and actions in other races. Most of you, particularly humans, are ... erm, highly vulnerable to suggestion and even coercion.”
“Seen it in holovids,” Haro said wisely. “Indigons making guys walk right out of airlocks, and shit like that.”
“So does he implant devices in your brain?” Ryder asked, frowning at Var.
Var stopped eating and stared at him. “Small ones,” he said. “One of the gladiators, LM-200 was messed up in a cruiser wreck. He had ... plates in his skull, with large implants inside. Blu used to shock him when he didn't do as ordered.”
“Var has one as well,” Playa said. “But it is very small, just inside his skull. I believe the helmet activated it somehow.”
“Shit,” Ryder said. “The other guy the same?”
“DR? Yes. Eventually, they must both be surgically removed. But the only one here with the capabilities is Dr. Blu, and of course we will not allow him near either of these men again. There are other fine physicians in the galaxy who can be trusted to do the work when Var is ready.”
Qala set her half-eaten sandwich down, looking ill. Ilya knew exactly how she felt. The little food she'd managed tightened in her stomach. Var had something in his brain? What if it could be used against him, even without the helmet? What if—okay, couldn't think about that now. Focus on right now.
“Slimer,” Orson growled, his dark face in a fearsome scowl. “Can't wait to sight my laser on him.”
“Is this LM, uh, okay?” Dano asked.
“No,” Var said. “He's dead. Killed by a Gorglon ruhr-beast.”
Ilya leaned into Var, pressing her face against the back of his shoulder, not caring who saw. She swallowed hard to keep down what wanted to come back up.
“You ever have to face one of those, man?” Haro asked hesitantly.
“No,” Var said. “Mostly, we meet each other in staged fights. Only occasionally does Vadyal bring in beasts, or beings large enough to provide a contest against us. Gorglon, Mau. Or several Ingoes. Those are fights to the death.”
Ilya hugged him, stroking his broad back. She could hardly stand to think about what he'd endured. She was going to kill Blu so very, very slowly. She wanted to hear his screams echo through this station as he repented all he'd done.
“Ilya—stop.” Var twitched in her grasp. And his jaw bulged—he was grinding his teeth the way he'd always done when he was pissed at her and trying to contain it.
Ilya let him go, and shot off of the divan. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry ... it's just hard to listen to this and not wanna annihilate the bastard.” She paced across the room, swinging her arms and blowing out a hard breath.
“What's going on?” Ryder asked.
“Var is attuned to her emotions,” Playa said. “When she becomes angry, he becomes angry. It is ... an after-effect of his mind being open to Blu for so long. It will pass eventually.”
Ryder snorted derisively. “You sure it's not just 'cause he's pussy-whipped?”
Var made a low, rumble in his chest, and Ilya whirled, ready to lambaste the pirate chief. But she froze, eyes wide, as a wave of something passed through the room. Everyone else seemed in limbo as well, some of them in mid-gesture.
Ryder, however, slowly pulled his own laser from his belt, and lifted it. His face was suffused with blood, his teeth clenched, and his long arm shook as he fought whatever pulled him. But his hand turned, and the laser aimed straight at his own forehead.
“No—” he choked.
They all remained still, watching him with varying degrees of horror. What was going on? Who was doing this—had Blu managed to invade this place?
Then Playa moved, gliding through the room like a pale rider. Her eyes were dark as midnight in her pale face, alive with power that fairly shimmered in the air around her.
“Now, perhaps you will have compassion for Var and his fellows,” she said to Ryder.
Then the power in the room receded, like a glowlamp winking out. Holy hells, Playa had done that?
Everyone moved, especially Ryder, who jerked down his arm, his breath expelling in a harsh curse. He glowered murderously at Playa, and Bek moved to stand between Ryder and her.
Then the pirate shook his head, and lifted his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. I reckon you showed me, little lady. That shit is real.”
“Oh, my God,” Dano gasped, hand to his chest. “That was intense. I was terrified. Playa, I’m so glad you’re on our side.”
“God, me too.” Qala and Haro exchanged a look of profound relief. Ilya eyed Var anxiously, but he merely watched stoically. He was used to this, in a way none of the rest of them would ever understand, she realized. How many times had he been forced to do things, see things much worse than this in the months he'd been here?
Too quarking many.
Ryder nodded slowly, his gaze on Playa. “Now I remember where I've seen you. You're the girl who killed the teacher. Took him out when he was piloting you and some other kid home from school.”
The room went quiet, so quiet Ilya heard the rustle of fabric as someone shifted on the leather furniture. She stared at Playa as did everyone else.
Then Ilya shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, that can't be right.”
Murder? That did not fit with what she knew of the quiet little assistant, who seemed to spend more time worrying about others than about herself.
Var gave Ilya look of warm approval. “It's not our business what happened in Playa's past,” he said, rising to stand beside the Indigon's chair. “She saved me. And DR. That's enough for me, and the rest of you too.”
“It's true, though,” Playa said, her voice thin as a wire. “I did kill him. I killed them both.”
Ilya approached cautiously, and squatted in front of her chair, reaching to cover Playa's small, pale hands with her own. Playa's were like ice.
/>
“Why, honey?” Ilya asked gently.
“He ... he was a pedophile,” Playa said. “I ... read his thoughts accidentally. I didn't like him, but my parents told me it was my imagination. Their powers weren't strong, so they didn't understand that I often knew what others were thinking, feeling even from a young age.’
‘When he gave me and a younger boy a ride home from school that day, he wasn't going to take us home. He was going to take us somewhere private and—and take turns molesting us, and make us watch him with the other. He was very excited by his plans, which he'd been crafting for weeks. He chose us both carefully. The boy was an orphan and I ... my parents were distant. They didn't want me, so they didn't spend time with me or listen much. By the time I was sixteen, I was nearly on my own, just living in their house.”
“So you stopped him,” Ilya said. “That's good. You should be proud of that.”
Playa shook her head, her mouth trembling. “All I could think of was to make him wreck his hovie before we got out of the city. So I did, but—a cruiser hit us. He was killed, and so was—so was the boy.”
“So that's how your legs were injured?”
“Yes. My spine was cut beyond repair, they said. And anyway, I was a murderer, so they didn't try very hard to fix me. They were going to ... to implant a governing device in my brain. I would have been a cyborg of a sort too. With no power whatsoever.”
Bek moved, coming to turn Playa's chair away from Ilya to face him. He leaned in as if he and Playa were alone in the room, cupping the side of her face in one hand. “Playa. You are not a murderer. You've got the purest heart of any being I ever met. You have powers, and no kid can be expected to wield power like that without some collateral damage.”
“They should've listened to you,” Ilya agreed. “Sounds like your folks were as stupid as my father. He used to shill me out to draw in marks for his cons, back in New Seattle.”
She stood, and looked to Var. “Anyway, what's in the past can stay there. Without you, Var wouldn't be him again, and I wouldn't have him back. So far as I'm concerned, Playa, you're a hero, not a murderer.”
