Andromeda's Rebel

by Debra Jess

  Tamarja saw Daeven nervously shifting from one foot to the other. Did he know something about this?

  "But Doctor Silvah must have tested his design"—Daeven glared at Tamarja as he spoke—"or he wouldn't have been in such a rush to contact the Shadows. Do you remember that part? How you were captured?"

  Light burst behind her eyes, and Tamarja blinked. The cavern faded as she remembered.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  "Goshen One, this is Starcatcher, please acknowledge." Tamarja's seat creaked as she leaned back, her head-up display automatically recalibrating the information so it never shifted out of focus. She could see the asteroid floating along its orbit around the Caspian sun. Its gray, craggy surface provided plenty of places for the Shadows to hide their own ship and monitor Starcatcher as it approached. They had transmitted the location of contact as well as the code scrambler to disguise any Starcatcher transmissions.

  No response.

  The door to the flight deck dissolved behind her. Tamarja didn't turn around. She knew Rory had entered the cramped deck, the door reforming behind him.

  "We'll give them a few minutes," Tamarja said out loud, though she knew they should have had a response by now. "For all they know, we're a Manitac ship. They need more time to scan us. Go back to the passenger bay, Rory."

  "They should have responded by now," he said. He gripped her shoulder. She felt his breath on the tip of her left ear as he scanned her instruments, as if he could discern more about their situation from the flight controls.

  "I know. Now go back and strap in. If they make contact, I'll let you know."

  "And if they don't?"

  "You'll still know because we'll accelerate out of here so fast, your brains will go splat across my nice, clean ship."

  He ignored her and unhooked a spare ear jack. Jacking in, he flicked on the head-up display so he, too, could see the asteroid.

  Tamarja bit her lip and refocused her attention on her flight controls just as Goshen One decided to respond.

  "Starcatcher, this is Goshen One. We have you on scope. Do not deviate from your current course. Begin countdown to docking on my mark."

  Tamarja acknowledged the transmission and began the countdown to mark. "Now will you go sit down?" She turned her head slightly to see Rory grinning down at her like a little boy.

  He bent toward her to quickly capture her lips in a kiss. She could feel a thousand apologies in that kiss, but she forced herself not to lean into it. "Great job, Captain."

  Tamarja grumbled something that sounded like thanks, before turning back to acknowledge another Goshen One transmission. "Goshen One, this is Starcatcher. I have another object on the scope, changing course, heading our way. Can you confirm and identify?"

  Goshen One continued to drift toward Starcatcher, preparing to receive them, but not acknowledging. Tamarja waited as long as she dared and repeated the transmission. The code scrambler should have prevented whoever just entered the system from picking up on their communications, but the code scrambler was supplied by the Shadows, and she had no idea of its accuracy.

  Not that it really mattered. Odds of an independently owned Manitac ship flying through this part of space under a legal license were so minuscule it wasn't worth wasting time trying to calculate them.

  "Starcatcher, this is Goshen One. Switching to backup plan."

  "What backup plan?" Rory asked.

  Tamarja didn't know. "Goshen One, this is Starcatcher. What backup plan?"

  Goshen One exploded in a ball of light.

  "Starlight and Guardians…" Tamarja automatically maneuvered Starcatcher away from the bulk debris threatening them. The shields held out against the rest. Manitac shields would have been shredded, but Rory's new design held firm and kept them safe.

  The Shadows' crew wouldn't have known that. They meant to destroy both ships to prevent capture.

  Tamarja could feel Rory trying to remain upright, digging his fingers into her shoulders as the inertial pressure shifted. "I guess that's their backup plan."

  "I'm scanning for any escape capsules." Tamarja unlocked her seat and spun around to face Rory. "Now will you get out of here? I've got my own backup plan to execute."

  Rory stared at her, looking dazed, as if not quite believing that everything they had worked for had just blown up along with the Shadows. Then he straightened his shoulders, his little grin returning, albeit with sad eyes. "I thought we had a cover story, not a backup plan."

  "Plans, stories, either way we're not getting out of this unscathed."

  Tamarja readjusted her comm unit to acknowledge the approaching Manitac ship. One of their scout ships. Not the largest ship in the Manitac fleet by far, but armed heavily enough to seriously damage the unarmed Starcatcher if they should decide to use their muscle.

  Activating the comm system, she made what would probably be her last announcement to her crew. "This is the captain. We're about to be boarded by Manitac. Prepare to be boarded."

  Tamarja avoided his eyes. "My ship. Starcatcher. He used his design on my ship, and we tested it at Caspia Minor before heading toward the rendezvous point.“

  A light dawned in Daeven's eyes. "There were cages of spinners in your cargo hold. I read the report. They were what? A diversion? Escape plan?"

  "A little of both, but mostly they're part of the design." Tamarja sighed. "I don't know much about biology or the engineering of the shielding, except that the black-wing spinners Rory found on Caspia Minor use their silk to protect themselves from the intense radiation focused on the surface. He somehow mixed a refined version of the silk and attached it to the ejection ports fixed to the perimeter of the ship. Was that in the report you read too? He had to build a brand-new ejection system for the silk to cover the entire ship. The configuration was like nothing I had ever seen before. I really don't know any more than that." She pointed her chin toward Rory. "He's the genius, not me."

  "What sort of ship was it?" the director asked.

  "A freighter. Pre-Manitac. It's very difficult to find parts. But you already knew that, didn't you, Director?"

  The director narrowed her eyes. "Why would I know this?"

  "Because you bought my ship and had it transferred to the spaceport."

  "I did no such thing. This is the first time I've heard about your ship. I didn't know about your past until recently."

  That was odd. Who else would know about her ship? "Well, someone acquired my ship because it's sitting in a private bay at the spaceport undergoing maintenance."

  No one answered her. Tamarja looked over at Daeven, but he just looked right back at her, the intensity of his gaze boring a hole in her forehead. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

  Was he thinking the same thing she was? Rory, Daeven, and herself, all together on the same colony. All of them played a part in the capture of her freighter. Her freighter sat in the spaceport, waiting to fly. The director knew nothing about the ship or the details of her capture.

  Daeven knew something. She could see it now, something about her capture. She tried to remember, to focus, but immediately the hated fog invaded her mind. She almost had it, came so close to another memory. She hadn't broken through all the blocks just yet. She needed more time.

  "What's going on here?" a strong voice demanded. A stout woman, with hair swept under a work hat, wearing the brown overalls signaling maintenance, descended on them, shaking the water bottle in her hand. "Who are you to interfere with—" She stopped dead in her tracks. "Oh, Director. Forgive me, I didn't realize it was you."

  The woman turned to look at Rory, obviously her main concern. "I just need to give this ‘pet a break. He's to receive water every two hours to ensure hydration…"

  "Give him the water," the director said, backing away from Rory. "But we'll be taking him after that. I'll arrange for a replacement for this shift."

  "He's been no trouble." This woman really seemed to care for her charge and clearly was not happy to lose him with
no explanation. Or maybe she knew how valuable he was. "Of all the ‘pets we employ, he's the most even tempered, and he never fusses."

  "I understand," the director reassured the woman. "We're not punishing him, but all ‘pets need regular medical exams if we're to keep them healthy, and it seems Manitac missed some inoculations before handing him over to us. I need to make sure all his records are up to date."

  "Manitac," the woman muttered under her breath. "One of these days we'll put a stop to this madness." She turned toward Tamarja. "You take good care of this one."

  "I promise." Tamarja picked up Rory's hand again. "I swear by the Stars, he'll be cared for."

  Satisfied, the woman marched away. Tamarja looked over at Daeven, who simply scowled at her. She tightened her hand around Rory's as she started to lead him toward the lift, even as her feelings for Daeven roared back at her.

  She loved him, she realized, but she loved Rory too. With Rory so vulnerable, he needed her to protect him. Once Rory got his memory back, she would have to choose, but how could she?

  No matter what happened, her choice would hurt one of them.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Tamarja watched as the nurses carefully transferred Rory from his bed to the gurney so they could float him into the operating room. The doctors would operate on her second but wanted her available in case something went wrong. They would need her as a baseline for the Black Wave treatment. Rory didn't blink, even as one of the nurses bent down to whisper something in his ear. The drugs they had injected made him even less responsive to the world around him than he was before. He just stared at the ceiling as the nurses shaved what little hair had grown in since the last time Tamarja had seen him.

  Doctors from each discipline had gathered around and questioned Tamarja for nearly three hours about her experience with Black Wave. Removing Rory's collar caused concern because of the delicacy of the connectors embedded in the spine, but didn't pose half the difficulties of injecting Black Wave directly into his brain—the best method of delivery according to the doctors.

  The interrogation was followed by a thorough medical exam, discussing and debating the entire time about how much Black Wave to apply and the best way to introduce it. Tempers flared and egos clashed, all the while Tamarja felt like a bug under a microscope.

  Eventually they decided to try to introduce Black Wave with a dose of re-animation agent. "Black Wave will dissolve the blocks placed on the receptors, and then a selected re-an cocktail will regrow whatever receptors have been burned or stunted by the blocks. It should work," one of the doctors explained. She had stopped trying to keep their names straight after the first hour.

  Upon hearing that bit of news, the director agreed to submit to a thorough exam. The doctors insisted they needed a second baseline from an established re-an patient to better gage the proper repair of Rory's damaged neurons. She could have ordered someone else to undergo the intrusive procedure—certainly re-an cases were not rare even among the Dawn's Landing population—but as the oldest known re-an case on Dawn's Landing, the director agreed she could supply the best parameters for comparison.

  Though the director barely acknowledged her during the day-long procedure, Tamarja still felt heartened by the woman's willingness to participate in her own experiment. No wonder the people of Dawn's Landing place their trust in her. She really follows through on her word, even when she doesn't have to.

  Daeven had stayed with them for a while before pulling the director aside and whispering in her ear for a few minutes. Then he left the medical suite. He didn't say anything to Tamarja, though he did look in her direction as he dissolved the exit door. She hadn't seen him since.

  Not that it mattered. She had Rory to worry about now. Daeven could take care of himself.

  That thought didn't comfort her.

  The doctors finally pulled her aside to tell her they thought they had found a way to make Black Wave work without causing Rory all the discomfort she had felt during her own transition. It would have been simpler if Joran had been there to tell them how much he had used, but she kept Joran's name out of it. She had enough to worry about without attracting more attention to the other Shadow, though she couldn't imagine the director thought Daeven was the only one.

  She didn't know for sure, though, and she didn't have the energy to speculate. Soon after the director emerged from her exam, and then she too disappeared, leaving Tamarja alone.

  If this worked, Rory should have his full memory back within two days.

  Tamarja released Rory's hand as the nurses pushed the grav-bed through the first biofilter and then through the second one leading to the operating suite. She hadn't been alone since this whole mad escapade started, hadn't given much thought to the events she had put in motion. Her whole focus had been on Rory, keeping him safe, keeping him comfortable.

  There was nothing for her to do now. The empty suite weighed on her soul. She hadn't eaten since the night before. Since the director hadn't set a guard on her, she didn't see any reason why she needed to stay. It would be hours before the doctors would complete the procedure, perhaps another full day before Rory recovered enough to remember her. As far as she knew, she was still in the employ of AuRaKaz, and she still had work of her own to complete.

  Her stomach rumbled, and she checked the time. The dining hall would start serving dinner soon. She left a message for the lead surgeon to contact her when the operation was complete.

  * * *

  The dining hall echoed with late-afternoon emptiness, no hum of conversation to grate against her nerves. She had Rory back. She should be happy, but the joy seemed muted, almost disappointing. She should be thinking of him, but she kept thinking of Daeven instead. The look he had given her as he left the medical suite had seemed so lost, so hopeless. She had wanted to run to him, she realized now.

  Too late. She had made her decision. Rory needed her more than ever.

  Memories surfaced again, images of people she should remember and places she used to know hit her harder than ever before. She dropped her utensil and rubbed her eyes. She could almost see through the waves: Daeven and Rory and herself and someone else. The blocks continued to erode, but instinctively Tamarja retreated from the pain and confusion.

  She began shoveling in food she didn't even taste, a small comfort.

  "Mind if I join you?"

  She looked up. Yohzad.

  While still chewing, she nodded, motioning to the chair next to her. Yohzad sat and carefully removed his dinner from the tray.

  "A little ave told me you were in medical most of the day."

  Tamarja tried not to choke as she swallowed. Don't lie. Stick to as much of the truth as possible. "Yeah. Migraine. I'm better now."

  Yohzad nodded, his dark eyes widening with sympathy. "Memory clouds bothering you? I saw you rubbing your eyes just now."

  Don't lie. "They seem to come out of nowhere. One minute I'm ready to fly, the next I can't even see my hand in front of my face. I try not to focus on the past, but sometimes I can't stop myself. Trying to pull away from what I'm trying to remember is difficult, and this time I got hit with a migraine."

  "Was it something in particular that set off this cloud? It would help with the experiment if we knew what sort of environments you're sensitive to."

  "I really don't know. I've been in Facility Prime most of the day. I've never had this reaction before."

  Yohzad nodded and started eating. By the Stars, she had to tread carefully around him. He was Manitac and could still kill her. Not to mention what he might do to Daeven. He was a dangerous man, after all. For the first time, she saw what Jita saw in the man.

  On the other hand, he was just an officer trying to do his job. He didn't deserve to become a victim of any of their plans—the Shadows' or the director's.

  That line of thinking made her ache to help Jita. "Have you been able to find a way to free Jita and the other personnel transfers?" she whispered, both out of a need to know and to
keep the conversation focused elsewhere.

  Yohzad shook his head. "Sorry, but no. She'll be wiped before any protest I could file with the Home Office is read. Best you forget about her. She won't be coming back."

  But I won't forget. Anger overtook Tamarja with such force her hands started to shake. She fixed him with a hard look. “Jita is my friend. I’m not just going to forget her,“ she said.

  Hands going up in mock surrender, Yohzad looked both hurt and repentant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.“

  With a stiff, sort of half nod, she looked down at her plate, suddenly unable to eat. She would never forget, and she would find Jita and all the others, find them and return their memories to them. Somehow she would.

  "Tell me what you saw in the medical wing this morning."

  Tamarja blinked, bringing herself back to the world of Manitac.

  "What I saw?"

  "Did you see anything unusual?"

  Idiot, you're supposed to be spying for him. Tell him the truth, or at least a version of it.

  "The director was there. There was also a ‘pet."

  "Interesting." Yohzad turned back to his food. "Why was the director there?"

  Tamarja shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe a re-an treatment?"

  "You know for sure she's on re-an?"

  "No. I just suspected. She seems awfully young to be head of her own company."

  "Subsidiary," Yohzad corrected. "She still answers to Manitac. You are probably right, however. The re-an treatment is a rather obvious explanation. What about the ‘pet?"

  A few gray wisps slowed down her thought process, along with her own panic. What should she say? "They were shaving his head. I didn't really see more than that. I didn't think it polite to ask, and it didn't seem important."

  "Now, why would a ‘pet be in medical getting his head shaved when the barber could do the same?"

  Tamarja's thoughts raced faster. "Maybe he's sick?"