“I wish I knew your real name. I believe it was Felicia. They never listed your surname.” The calmness with which he spoke irked her. “I could make a thousand apologies. I could tell you I thought I was doing this for all the right reasons. I even believed you were a serial killer. “
It was her turn to feel slapped. “A killer?” It sounded wrong. It felt wrong. Even in her desperation to escape from the order, she done her best not to hurt anyone. It never occurred to her to kill to be free. Dying, on the other hand… she had no problems with that.
“Again, I based all of my decisions on the information provided to me by compatriots within the order. They applauded my efforts for behavioral modification, and cognitive recalibration. But I'd reached the limit to which I could test my theory in my equipment on substitutes. I needed live subjects. I needed to know how it interacted with human chemistry and how to refine it.”
“So, I was your guinea pig.” Some deep part of her was desperate to understand. She wanted to know why he had done this, what had made her so special that he robbed her of who she was.
“For lack of a better term, yes.” Well, at least he didn't shy away from it. Neither Kestral nor the captain moved or spoke. Nina examined her response to his statement. She’d expected anger. Perhaps illness. Maybe even shades of regret. Yet all she could find within her was a mild curiosity. She still turned the name Felicia over in her mind. Something about it was familiar, but it didn't seem to fit. Or maybe it didn't fit her anymore. Maybe she'd been Nina too long.
“Do you know how long they held me?” Even Shaw jerked at the question, he gave her a questioning look as did Kestral. “Don't judge my responses. They’re mine. I don't remember being Felicia. I don't even really remember him, but he has information I need.”
“Fair enough.” The captain nodded then looked at Byron. “Answer her question.”
“A year.”
An eternity, and impossible to imagine when she could only attribute a few weeks to her current existence. “Do I have a family?”
“I don't know. And before you try to threaten me, Captain, please remember I came to you. I know very little about your life, other than you weren't serial killer. The profile they gave me, markers they'd used, they were trying to match requirements I'd given them. I thought if I experimented on the worst of the worst…”
Nina took another long drink of her shake. She managed to swallow it then stared at him. “You thought if they weren’t worth anything, it would be okay to rob them of everything.”
He flinched.
“I'm surprised you didn't do it on yourself. Isn’t a casual disregard for how one affects humanity or other humans one of the things you wanted to fix?”
Another mark, another score. Byron nodded, though. “You're right. I looked at life as a grand experiment. I believed it was my duty to correct what I could. Yes, I thought if we chose our sample from a pool of trash, people no one would miss, then maybe we could do some good.”
Trash. He thought of her as trash. No matter what he said, he actually thought he had the right to mind rape someone, to take away everything that made them them. To leave them a shell of their former selves. To treat them like so much cattle to be shuttled from place to place. To be subjected to repeated…
Without even thinking about it, she curled her hand around the shake container then flung it. Her accuracy proved true. It struck Byron in the face and she heard the satisfying crunch of bone cracking under the impact. Blood spurted from his damaged nose. He clasped his face groaning. The captain came to his feet, stepping between her and Byron even as Kestral pulled a weapon. Nina leaned back in the chair, a sense of satisfaction spreading within her. He’d broken her mind. All she’d done was broken his nose.
The captain sent Kestral to fetch the med kit while Byron continued to put pressure on his bloody nose. When Kestral returned, he brought Tika and Vega with him. Nina searched for some semblance of regret for having caused the injury, but found none. Apparently, Byron hadn't seen any issue with messing with her brain, why should she find any for messing with his face?
“I'll take care of myself,” Byron said in a very nasal voice as Kestral opened the medkit. The impacted definitely left him clogged, and his voice had changed as a result. He took one of the devices from Kestral and used a mirror to work the repairs on his nose. Too bad. Small but broken bones went so much quicker than what she'd gone through. Even went quicker than when she'd stabbed herself.
Tika glanced around the room then moved over to perch on the arm of Nina's chair. Nina took comfort in her presence and, when Tika reached down and grasped her hand, she let her do it.
“Who's this?” So, Tika didn't know what was going on. Suddenly Nina wish she hadn't come in the room. The urge to keep Tika safe from the ugliness vied with the need to have her support.
“This is the person responsible for Nina's condition,” Kestral said without preamble or explanation. He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. “She just broke his nose. Wicked aim.”
It sounded suspiciously like a compliment, so Nina gave him what she hoped was a smile and said, “Thank you.”
“No problem. So, are we done with this joker now?” He directed the question at the captain. Shaw remained between her and Byron, though he'd adjusted his angle, which allowed her to see past him. The captain shook his head.
“Why not?” Nina asked in the same breath as Kestral.
The worrying whine of the device used to repair his nose silenced, then Byron said, “Because I want to help. I want to stop what the Order is doing. The idea was to fix those who needed to be fixed, not to just use it on anyone they chose to.”
“That's a fine distinction, Mr. Wynn,” Vega spoke into the silence. His even tones and steady stare offered an odd sort of comfort to Nina. As did the note of disapproval in his voice. “Who decides who deserves to have this happen to them?”
“We had criteria,” Byron said, frustration edging the words. “Criteria which should have prevented any innocent from being harmed.”
“You say that like people who aren’t innocent deserve to be treated like lab rats,” Tika jumped into the debate. “Do you have any idea how badly she was treated? Look at her! She's lost so much weight. According to the med sensors, she should weigh at least thirty pounds more than she does. She can barely stand, she can barely keep food down, and she was so desperate, she would rather have died than be returned to that place.”
“I am aware,” Byron actually snarled the words then paused when Kestral's hand came down on his shoulder and gripped. The ugliness in his expression faded, and he blew out along frustrated breath. “I am aware that mistakes were made. I am aware that they used my tools and my idea on people it shouldn't have been used on.” Byron's gaze moved back to Nina's, but she couldn't read the emotion in them. She couldn't tell if he was sorry, in pain, angry or maybe some combination of them all. “I know that, ultimately, no matter what my intentions were, or what I had hoped to do, I am responsible for what happened to you.”
Nina's only regret was she didn't have something else she could fling across the room to break his damn nose, again. The surges of violence toward him continued to build, even as the icy fingers of apprehension melted under the quiet fury stirring in her gut. “Do you want my forgiveness? Do you want some kind of absolution from me?”
“I doubt you can give me either,” Byron said. At least she seemed to understand that part keenly. “There is no way I can make this right. I can't give you back what was taken from you. I can't undo what they did. But I can help you recover, and I can help you to stop them from doing it to anyone else.”
The last sentence fell between them like a grenade. The first to react was Vega. “You're not telling us this because you want to help us, you're telling us this because you have no way to stop them without assistance.”
“You make a big damn mess, and you think you can get all of us to volunteer to clean it up for you? Entitled much, Mr.
Wynn?” Kestral's even, cold words soothed Nina more than she could've imagined.
“Why would we help you? You're presuming that by providing us with information, were simply going to believe you.” Tika casting doubt actually seem to get the captain's attention. “You've already said that you were so foolish that you trusted the wrong people with very delicate and invasive technology and procedures. You tortured this woman, and you own responsibility for that. So why should we think that whatever plan you have now has any more merit than the one you had before? The only difference I can see is the audience you're pitching it to.”
Nina said nothing. Currently she was imagining what it would look like if she started pounding on Byron's face. Maybe if she had a couple more cups like the one she’d thrown at him. She could use them to add weight to her punches. Better not to look at him, so she glanced to the captain instead. Shaw seemed to be staring at Byron, but every so often, he glanced to her then back again.
“Tika brings up a fair point,” Shaw said finally, his expression inscrutable. “Why should we believe you?”
“Because I've been tracking you for months, Captain Shaw. I'm very well aware of your mission out here. I'm also aware of the bounty on Miss Anderson's head, of the crimes Mr. Storm is accused of under New Genesis law. And, as for Kestral back here…” Byron glanced to him. “I know your family.”
All emotion vanished from Kestral's eyes, and the coldness Nina glimpsed there warned her that he was far more dangerous than she'd guessed.
“Idle threats don't create friends,” Shaw warned him. “And wealth can't get you out of the hole I decide to drop you in.”
The blond man stood abruptly, the blood from his nose still staining his shirt. It really should have stayed broken longer. “The last thing I want to do is threaten you, I really do need your help, but you also need mine. The treatment they subjected 9-A to —”
“Call her Nina.” Tika also stood, fierce in her defense. Despite what Nina would've attributed to a delicate and cherished demeanor, she also had a spine. “You may look down your nose at many people, Mr. Wynn, but here were all equals. Your wealth doesn't mean a damn thing.”
“It means a little something to me,” Kestral muttered, but it was not much more than a faint jab at Tika because the look he gave Byron promised swift and severe retribution.
“I am aware of that, Miss Anderson. I'm also aware that my wealth could not save her from what I had already consigned her to. However no one in the Order understands the procedures that I was testing or the end goal. No matter what they tried to tell me or attempted to do, I saw how they were handling it.” Byron took a step forward and, while it didn't seem that any of the men had moved, he was suddenly in the midst of a triangle with Kestral at his back, Vega to his right, and Shaw to his left. It was oddly comforting to know none of them would allow him to get close to her.
“Nina, there's a good chance you could still suffer from transient ischemic attacks.”
“Do I want to know what that is?”
“Strokes. Mini strokes.” Byron sighed and spread his hands. “I know the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I know the road that I have traveled for a long time was paved with good intentions. Yes,” he said with a snap toward Vega. “Intentions earned through entitlement. And I also know I was wrong. I can't undo what I did, but I do want to try do right by you. I need to fix this, even if that means simply treating you and making sure you recover. And if anything happens, I'm a physician… I can help you.”
Nina stared at him then glanced to Tika. She realized no one was speaking. They all seem to be waiting. “Really? You're asking the person with brain damage to make this decision?”
Sudden laughter filled the room and for just a brief moment the panic and anxiety gripping her eased. It had been the right thing to say.
“Lock our guest in the empty quarters,” Shaw directed Kestral. “Zed, cut off all communications to and jam all transmissions from Mr. Wynn's quarters.”
“Acknowledged.”
“You can't just hold me prisoner,” Byron said. “I came to you remember?”
“Correction, you sent three armed goons to bring me to you.” Shaw replied in a harsh unforgiving tone. “In order to assuage your own guilt, you used the threat of force, not to mention you have already admitted to using your so-called personal knowledge against all of us. If you think we're letting you walk off the ship without discussing it, you're wrong.”
Kestral didn't let Byron say another word before dragging him out. A couple of minutes later, he returned wearing a self-satisfied smirk.
“Did you break his nose again?” Shaw asked.
Kestral pulled something from his pocket then wiped some blood off of his fist. “No, just a couple of loosened teeth.”
Shaw didn't reprimand him, but Nina smiled. “Thank you.”
Kestral nodded to her then resumed his position against the wall.
“We’re not making this decision by committee,” Shaw said. “That said, I want your thoughts.”
He looked to Tika first, out of all of them. Nina couldn't really define their relationship. The familiarity between them was enviable. Maybe Shaw trusted Tika because she constantly spoke her mind.
“I don't like him, but I have discovered over the years that most brilliant men and women tend to be difficult.” The measured way she chose her words lent credence to the idea she was thinking it through. “If he understands what was done to Nina, he may understand what the possible side effects and long-term ramifications are. I don't have a medical degree. Do any of you?”
No one spoke up, not even Nina. If she had any kind of medical degree, would even know it? She understood exactly where to stick the knife in herself. She'd managed to avoid nicking or damaging any internal organs. The blood loss had been a bit unexpected, but she'd also been desperate. Then again, simply knowing where to stab herself didn't make her any kind of a physician.
“Then, as much as I dislike the man, I say we let them stay because we need him to take care of Nina.”
“Just because he pretends to know a lot, doesn't mean he does.” Vega’s assessment held no note of judgment or motion. “He said he had an idea, a plan. Someone else executed it. That's a lot like when folks come down to the mechanic shop and tell us they need speeder. That tells us what color they want and how fast they want it to go. Sometimes, they even tell us how they want to look. They aren’t the ones who built it, and they aren't the ones to make it work. He had an idea, that doesn't mean he knows how it was done.”
“I say we just shoot him.” Kestral looked at his nails then shrugged. “He's a wealthy entitled punk. He thinks his money can get him out of anything. He screwed up, now he wants to buy his way out of it, only he can't throw enough money at it, so he's gotta throw in what talent he seems to think he possesses. It will be more trouble than it's worth, and if we do take him with us… Every chance in the world his family will treat it like a kidnapping, then you have to deal with all the local security forces on the different colonial worlds coming after us.”
“They’re not that organized,” Vega said. “You can be wanted on one world and perfectly fine on another.”
“But there are negotiations to change that,” Tika said suddenly, and Nina didn't miss the way Shaw jerked. He swung around to face her his eyes narrowed in his expression calculating.
“Explain.”
If she seemed it all off put by his manner, she didn't show it. “There are multiple trade negotiations taking place every day between various colony worlds. At least two corporations help facilitate those trade agreements. Their legal departments have begun issuing invitations to diplomats for a summit. If they manage it, they’ll put together an intercolonial cooperation agreement which could streamline criminal notifications and identification.”
“How long has that been happening?” Surprise marked Kestral’s question, and even Vega seemed disturbed.
“A few months. My father is one th
e delegates from New Athens. My—” Tika grimaced. “My former future husband would have represented his family’s interests.”
Nina didn’t understand politics, but none of those present in the lounge appeared happy with Tika’s pronouncement. “What does that mean to us?” The moment the words slipped her lips, she blinked.
Us.
She was a part of an us. Half-expecting them to chide her for the presumption, she braced herself for recriminations.
“It means we may have a limited amount of time to operate with impunity,” Shaw explained. Something inside of Nina relaxed at his response. Acceptance. Processing what the moment meant and defining her response seemed to lock her jaw.
Tika perched on her chair again then held out her hand. Grasping it, Nina gave her a small smile. When the other woman answered with a bright grin, Nina relaxed further.
“It also means some of your passengers are going to be hotter than others,” Vega remarked.
“I care less about that than you may think,” Shaw said waving off the concern. “If they are still negotiating the sharing of information, it will take them some time to work out the kinks.”
“Depends on how much money they throw at it,” Kestral mused, having finished cleaning his hands, he tucked away the cloth he’d used. “The right amount of financing can smooth out any wrinkle, or stomp it flat.”
“We can’t worry about what can or should, we can only deal with what we know.” Calm and deliberate, the captain’s manner seemed to settle all the nervous energy within all those present. “Nina, you’re the one he wronged, but he’s gone out of his way to contact us to try and make amends. If wealth could fix it, I think he would have already. He’s desperate, and he’s ashamed of what he’s done.”
“How do you know that?” Perhaps her courage came from their acceptance, but she remained curious. She could not think of Byron without flashes of unreasonable anger. Unlike every other person involved in the conversation, she had no past. No family.
Space Cowboy Survival Guide Page 18
