by Minton, Toby
"There were casualties," Elias said. "Four, at least."
Nikki swallowed the mouthful of coffee in a painful gulp she felt all the way down. She had to clear her throat twice before she could ask where.
Elias gave his head a half shake before saying, "He woke up this morning in the free zone south of the city, but he was out of control for hours. We don't know the full scope yet."
Nikki swallowed again and squeezed her eyes shut. Those hungry red eyes staring at her out of the dark alley were suddenly all she could see in her head. Then the sound of Apple Face's screaming joined them. She downed half her mug like it was going to wash out the memories, but all she managed to do was give herself a killer brain freeze.
Still wincing, she opened her eyes and glanced around, but nobody seemed to have noticed her reaction, or if they had they must have chalked it up to the brain freeze. Then she caught Sam's eye where he was leaning against the rail on Elias's left. He wasn't fooled. She could almost see the pieces clicking together behind his dark brown eyes.
She hadn't lied to him, not really. She'd just held back a detail or two from her night. A big detail or two. She'd done nothing wrong, or nothing wrong to Sam, at least. But the look he gave her made her feel three kinds of lousy.
Elias was still talking, but Nikki had missed something. She pulled her attention from Sam as Elias said again, "Coop?"
"Yeah, I got it. I got it," he said. "I think." He tapped and scrolled furiously, his expression an amusing mix of defensive and frustrated as he tried to navigate Kate's systems. "Yep, got it."
The broad tabletop lit up as the tactical display hummed to life. A holographic image of Seattle coalesced over the display, building from the ground up. The image rotated and shrank as Coop zoomed out enough to include the free zone bounding the city in a thin curve to the south and east.
"Putting in the coordinates now," Coop murmured, and a red dot appeared in the southern arm of the free zone. Nikki noticed, with a tremor in her gut, that the dot was within spitting distance of the no-man's land where Sam had picked her up.
"Magnify," Elias said. The way he was leaning on the table put the translucent blue image of one of the taller buildings between him and Nikki. The washed out light accentuated every wrinkle, especially around his eyes.
"Foot traffic should be sparse in this area after dark." Elias paused and glanced at the time on the display. "Which is not far off. Padre, Mos," he glanced at each in turn, "you're with me. We'll assess and pull damage control if needed. I want wheels up in twenty. Ace, the hole is yours."
Everybody he named nodded in turn, and Elias straightened up. "Questions?"
Nikki had a thousand. First and foremost, what in the world was Ace's assignment and why was nobody else cracked up by it? Nikki had to gulp down the last of her coffee to drown her own laughter before it could escape.
"Has this happened before?" Ace asked, apparently perfectly fine with her hole duties. As usual she looked more like a model-turned-athlete than the second-in-command of an underground military outfit. Nikki could easily imagine her long, toned limbs, strong features, and crystal blue eyes in front of cameras instead of behind gun sights. She had her auburn hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and was dressed in curve-hugging cargo pants, as usual, topped with a dark thermal undershirt today.
Also as usual, Nikki looked away once she realized where her thoughts were heading. That road led to nothing but trouble for Nikki's imagination, despite the fact that Ace was in her mid-forties, at least. Nikki refused to let herself travel that particular road, not again. Boys only for her—short-term ones at that. Girls were too much trouble, and too much pain. Losing Anella had turned Nikki inside out. Hence the boys-only rule, a rule that had kept her nearly pain-free until Michael pulled his stunt. Good thing both were one-time-only events.
Elias shook his head and looked back at the hologram as he considered Ace's question, his gaze lingering there even after Coop shut it down. "Not like this. There were incidents right after E-Day, but only until Gideon realized what happened when he gave up control. Since then, not one slip. Not as far as I know." This last was delivered in a tone that was as surprising as it was loaded. It said, pretty clearly, that the things Gideon kept from Elias could probably fill the Wasteland. She knew he and Gideon had been at odds since her rescue, but she'd never heard Elias speak ill of him before, not even with just a tone.
"Any idea what caused it?" Ace pushed off the rail and stepped closer to the table to let Mos and Sam slip by on their way to the door.
"No. We can't keep him locked up forever, but until we get to the bottom of this, keep the lower level—"
A blocky form stopped between Nikki and the conversation and shoved an empty coffee mug into her hands. She bobbled her own empty and nearly dropped both before she got them under control. Gram just rattled a low laugh and ponderously sidestepped to get by.
"Hey!" she snapped.
Gram's growl, at least that's what it sounded like, cut her off. "Not doing both, Red." He limped down the four steps and turned to look back with one hand on the metal rail. "I cooked, you clean. That's the rule."
Nikki opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Gram was right. That was the rule. They had a weekly rotation set up for dish duty for main meals, but when it came to snacks and such, whoever cooked for the others didn't have to clean those dishes, even if said cooking was just shooting hot water through ground up beans. She'd used that rule to her advantage too many times to argue against it now, so she turned her gaping mouth into a smile instead. Besides, both Elias and Ace were looking at her, the latter with mild amusement in her eyes, and Nikki didn't want to do anything to draw attention to herself, not until she'd talked to Gideon. She could play the good girl until then.
She slid out of her seat and headed out, but a whistle stopped her before she reached the steps. She turned back to see Coop jogging around the table, grinning widely, a cup of his own in his hand.
"Don't forget this one there, Red." He balanced his cup on top the two in her hands and gave her a mocking wink.
Nikki kept her smile in place, but only through a supreme effort of will. "Sure thing there, Disney."
She had the satisfaction of seeing his smug grin falter at the corners. He wasn't a big fan of her nickname for him, not now that he knew it was a crack at his anime fetish.
"Don't call me Disney," he said through his darkening smile.
"Don't call me Red," she said through her own.
"Why not? Gram calls you Red. You don't get mad at him. What's the difference?"
"Should be obvious, joke face," she parroted Gram's words, mostly. "He's on my good side." She gave him an exaggerated wink of her own and spun on her heel, her smile souring with each step toward the door.
OK, so maybe not the best good girl thing to say, but not the worst either. Coop deserved a lot more abuse for waking her up, and soon enough he'd get it, but for now Nikki was going to bite her tongue and play the good girl, as much as possible, and get the answers she needed.
Nikki was certain she broke the world record for speed-washing dishes—as long as quickly rinsing counted as washing—but even though she made it from the command center to the galley to the lower level in under three minutes, she wasn't fast enough to beat Ace.
"Off limits, kiddo," Ace said as she stepped out of the vault and pushed the door shut. She glanced up for the first time as Nikki stopped a half dozen paces away in the dimly lit tunnel.
"How'd you know I was going—" Nikki started to ask before she thought it through. "How'd you know it was me before you looked?"
Ace smiled and raised an eyebrow. "The major made the vault off limits. Who else would it be?"
"Right. I know," she replied, ignoring the insinuation. "But I'm just going to—"
"Off limits."
"I know. I just said that, didn't I? I'm just going to talk to—"
"Off limits." Smile still in place, Ace pointed back toward the step
s.
"Yeah, got it," Nikki said as calmly as she could. Good girl, she repeated in her head. Play the good girl. "But surely he wouldn't mind if I just asked a quick—"
"Off limits, Nikki. That includes talking."
Good girl. Good girl. Good girl.
"But he didn't say no talking. How do you know he meant that unless you go ask him?"
Ace appeared to consider that for a second. "I suppose you're right. I don't know for sure."
Nikki beamed.
"But I'm not going to ask him while he's prepping for an op. As far as I'm concerned, he's already offsite."
"So…who's in charge then?"
"That would be me," Ace replied.
"Perfect. So you can decide if talking is allowed."
Ace nodded. "I suppose I can."
"You're a legend." Nikki started to edge around her. "I'll just be a few."
Ace's hand in the middle of Nikki's chest stopped her cold. "And I say no. Until the major gets back, I'm going to assume off limits means just that, in every way you can imagine."
"Even if…" Nikki trailed off. Ace was still smiling, sort of, but the look in her eyes told Nikki nothing she said was going to work. Despite that realization, Nikki spent another few seconds silently weighing her options and even opening her mouth a couple times to try a new tack, but that's as far as it went.
Finally, she turned around and headed for the steps. By the time she started her climb, the familiar taste of disappointment was hard at work souring her mood.
After months of non-existent opportunities, a half dozen near misses, and a couple of last-minute Michael roadblocks, the answers Nikki needed were now so close she could all but reach out and smack them. But they might as well have been on the other side of the world.
Enemy Within
Chapter 8
Nikki
"Why is it I came out here again?" Nikki grumbled, only half to Coop. She was really asking herself, even though she thought knew the answer.
Walking beside her through the low grass along the bluff, Coop made a sound that wasn't even close to a word as he took a huge bite of an apple. "To watch Cue Ball make an ass out of himself," he said when he could get out a recognizable word.
That didn't make any sense. She'd watched Impact train before, and while it wasn't always the most exciting thing in the world—unless you had a treadmill fetish—it was never short of impressive seeing him reach speeds on foot that put hover cars to shame. She couldn't imagine what he could be doing out here to make a fool of himself. Also, that wasn't the real reason they were out here walking the bluffs with the setting sun in their eyes.
"And," Coop said after he swallowed, "to keep you out of trouble."
There it was. No doubt on Ace's orders. She must have called Coop the second Nikki got out of earshot. As soon as Nikki had reached the top of the stairs from the lower level, Coop had waylaid her to drag her out here—the spanker.
That wasn't entirely fair. Coop was a spanker most of the time, but in this case he was just following Ace's orders. Plus, he'd led her out through the small vestibule hidden in the back of the sanctuary, then across Sam's garden, which was a painstaking process if you wanted to avoid stepping on any of his carefully tended plants—and you did. The route was way longer and way more difficult than just using the main doors, especially considering where they were now. Nobody in their right mind would take it. Unless there was something out front they wanted to avoid.
Like somebody's grave.
Nikki looked out at the water as they walked so Coop wouldn't see her grateful smile. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.
None of them were—bad, that is. Despite her griping and complaining, Nikki was growing attached to everyone at the doomsday bunker. They'd all gone out of their way to give her what she needed to get through the worst time in her life, and not just free food and shelter. They'd given her time and space to grapple with her feelings and a ready distraction when she couldn't. Without coming right out and saying it, each one of them had made it clear they were there for her, ready to do whatever she needed, whenever she needed it. They said as much with every pity-free nod, every cutting joke, every trip to the city at odd hours, every iced coffee. Somewhere deep inside, Nikki knew she wouldn't have survived the past four months without these people. Or if she had, she would have come out of it a different person. Damaged goods, at best.
For a while now Michael had been harping on her to thank them, but she'd been unable. Each time the thought showed up, panic followed hard on its heels. Thanks led to handshakes, gushy smiles, or worse. Those things led to feelings of attachment, feelings of belonging. If she let those feelings take hold, she'd really start caring about these people. And that led only to pain.
On the other hand, accepting their support without paying them back, with thanks at the least, sounded an awful lot like falling into emotional debt. Nikki liked the idea of debt about as much as she liked briefings and classrooms. Owing somebody was its own kind of attachment—the worst kind.
Maybe Michael was right. Maybe it was time she settled her account.
As they started up the short rise to the highest overlook south of the church, Nikki struggled to come up with the right words to say. She wanted to sound sincere yet hang on to her keep-your-damn-distance nonchalance. No mean feat.
She waved a hand in front of her face to shoo a buzzing something and glanced over at Coop, having settled on words that felt workable. He caught her looking and met her gaze. He chomped into his apple and gave her a creepy eyebrow bob that poisoned her gratitude before it left her tongue. The wink that followed shot it dead.
Maybe she'd start with somebody else.
They stopped near the edge of the bluff where the trail they'd been following ended in a narrow clearing with grass worn almost completely away like it had been trampled by a thousand drunken ravers.
Coop waited like this was where they'd been heading, continuing to work on his apple and eyeing the tree line on their left instead of the impressive view of the Sound on the right.
Nikki chose the view.
When Coop hooted and elbowed her, she turned just in time to see Impact race into the clearing. When she realized what he was doing, her heart nearly stopped.
Impact
Impact took a long, slow breath, closed his eyes, and tried to block out the distractions trying to undermine his concentration. He focused on the steady beat of his heart, the soft rustle of the wind through the trees around him. Anything but the voices.
There was no one else around. Gideon's base was the only inhabited structure left on the island, his team the only people who used the trails twisting through the sparse woods. And Impact was the only member of that team who'd be out here at this time of day with the last rays of the setting sun filtering through the canopy. The others preferred their PT early in the morning. Soldier's habit. He had the woods to himself. But he wasn't alone. Lately, he was never alone.
As always, he was at the mercy of the little voice inside his head, the one constantly pushing him to train harder, driving him to develop his abilities beyond Savior's intended design. The voice was relentless, fueled by an inexhaustible stockpile of resentment, frustration, and repeatedly wounded pride.
He'd never been able to ignore the voice when it was on its own. Now it wasn't. Since his last confrontation with Savior, he had a second voice to deal with, one that showed up less often, usually when he was training at peak intensity. One that did more to confuse than motivate him, with a shout here, some undecipherable babble there. One that managed to unsettle his already bleak thoughts.
This new player in his head didn't sound like him. It sounded and felt like a different person entirely, enough so to make him wonder if he was joining the growing ranks of those losing their grip on reality in this team.
Despite this worry, the new voice actually gave him hope. It showed up only when his thoughts were at their darkest. Wherever this new voice came from in his t
ortured mind, it seemed to despise his bouts of frustration and self-doubt as much as he tended to indulge them. So as alien as the voice was, he'd convinced himself it was a positive influence.
This new layer of psychosis came as no surprise to Impact, considering its timing. Savior brought out the worst in him. Fighting with Savior supercharged that worst and then sent it back inside to torture him for months, even years, afterward. If a new splinter of his personality was all he had to contend with after their latest encounter, he'd take it, especially when weighed against that day's other revelation.
"Have you truly not discovered your own limitations?" His father's cold words snaked out of his memory, coiled around the brittle frame of Impact's self confidence, and started to tighten.
He wanted to believe Savior had been lying to unnerve him. It was possible. His father was a masterful manipulator of more than just genes. He'd handcrafted his own legend through equal parts power and charisma, shaking hearts and minds by performing god-like feats and then capturing those hearts and minds with carefully chosen words delivered with perfectly feigned emotion. He gave people hope, then he used it to bind them to him, to place them on paths of his choosing in order to further his own agenda. He got what he wanted by convincing the world his desires were their salvation. In other words, he lied.
But not to Impact—not about this.
When it came to Impact's origin, his purpose, his strengths, and especially his weaknesses, Savior didn't need lies. When it came to Impact, Savior could wield the truth to much more devastating effect.
"The girl wasn't the first person you vowed to protect."
The memory of those words temporarily quieted the old voice that was demanding Impact get back to training instead of standing around contemplating his failings.
Vowed to protect. In other words, you can't hurt me, Jon, because I made you. You are physically incapable of breaking a vow and, weak-hearted fool that you are, you promised to protect me when you were too young to realize what kind of monster I am.
