Silently berating herself, she addressed Skelly in a calm voice. “You concern seems genuine—”
“Oh, it is,” he assured her.
“—but unnecessary. I don’t believe Burke has any intention of doing me harm.”
At mention of Burke’s name Skelly’s face twisted. He shook his head.
“That’s not something you would know until it was too late.” He rose, taking a turn away from the berth and back again. Hallie measured the distance between them. Due to the size of the cell it could never be enough.
“I see. It’s commendable you want to protect me, Skelly. I appreciate your intent. But not necessary.”
He paused, looking at her sidelong. Darkness flickered in his blue eyes. Something had broken in him, maybe at sight of the creature through the glass.
“Skelly, is something wrong?”
He laughed. Hallie tensed. Otherwise she was careful to give no indication the sound of his amusement had unnerved her.
“Not anymore,” he said. His hand went into his pocket, fingers spinning the contents in brief contemplation, head tipped back a little on his shoulders. “I didn’t think he’d want us having this conversation, you know? Even to apologize, let alone the rest of it.”
Hallie’s left hand came up to her mouth. She tapped the knuckles of her first two fingers against her lips, estimating his size and weight and the necessary precautions she might have to take if he became aggressive. “The rest of it?”
“I didn’t think he’d allow me to do it.”
Chill and heat coursed along her spine together and into the pores of her flesh beneath the lightweight gown. He’d issued the statement without emotion, cold and dead as the space between the stars.
“What did you do, Skelly? What did you do to Burke so he wouldn’t stop you?” She forced herself to sound reasonable, as though the answer wouldn’t really matter.
Still smiling, he pulled his hand from his pocket and held it out. On his palm lay a pressure hypodermic. With a slight movement of his arm, he let the hypo roll from the edge of his fingers to the floor where it clattered and spun into the vacant space beneath the desk.
“What was in that? Skelly, what is that? How much was in there?”
He shrugged. “Enough.”
“Enough,” she echoed. “Is it poison?”
“No. Just a drug.”
“What drug? Do you know what dose you gave him?”
“I guessed. I’m sure I can’t be too far wrong.”
Imprudently, she rushed toward him, heat flushing her face. “Where is he?”
Skelly wagged his head as if having difficulty countenancing the reason for her disturbance. “Not until we’re done here, Hallie.”
“He could be dying!”
“Oh, I doubt that. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it.”
Hallie turned to leave. Long fingers closed on her arm, jerking her back against his chest. “Not yet, Hallie.”
* * *
He couldn’t move. No matter how hard he tried to open his eyes, flex his fingers, turn his head, he couldn’t do it. He felt fortunate to be breathing, to be maintaining his struggling respiration. As long as he could concentrate on that, he would be all right. Thoughts semi-cognizant, he knew it would only be a matter of time until he regained motor function. He had no idea what Shane had dosed him with, how he had gotten his hands on such a substance, but he understood he was damned lucky to still be among the living.
Fighting the call back to oblivion, Burke mentally counted each breath he took, each one he released. He tried not to think of Hallie while he did this. Concern over what might be happening to her translated into a looming panic he couldn’t afford if he meant to help her. And he did mean to do that very thing. If he could just move.
In time he became conscious of a vibration beneath his skull, not cumbersome and metered like a cybernon’s locomotion across the floor, but signaling the approach of something lighter, faster, human. He hoped it wasn’t Skelly returning to finish him off. In his present condition he could only hope. He possessed no other defense.
Something struck Burke in the area of his shoulder, followed by a heavy weight slamming into his chest. Cloth draped across his face, cutting off what air he was managing to take in. Damn it, did the bastard mean to suffocate him?
A seraphic voice cursed in the darkness like a gambler on a losing streak. The weight lifted from his chest, as did the bunched fabric from around his head. Hands, slender, strong hands, checked for the pulse beneath his jaw, lifted his shoulders, slapped his face, all the while uttering profanities that would have made his jaded grandmother blush. Well, it wasn’t the hands swearing. It was Hallie.
His eyelids popped open. A great draft of cool air rushed into his lungs. But he was blind.
“Stop hitting me,” he managed to croak. “I’m back.”
Her scent filled his functioning nostrils. Reaching up, he clumsily tangled his fingers into her dangling locks. “I can’t see.”
“There’s no operating light in here. That’s why I fell over you. I’m sorry.”
Sorry? He wanted to kiss her again, whether she liked it or not, and not in fevered desperation this time, but in a long and lingering fashion. She didn’t give him the chance. She scrambled to her knees beside him and helped him to sit up.
“You’re getting into the shower.”
He had no inclination to argue as he struggled upright, leaning heavily on her shoulders as they struggled in a crooked line to the hygienic chambers. He stumbled frequently, muttering occasional and shocking endearments against the top of her head. Outside the communal stall he put both hands up on the wall to either side of the opening, jolting her to a halt.
“Where the hell is Shane?”
“I locked him in my cell.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Nope,” she said.
He didn’t believe her. Not for one instant. Later. He would deal with Shane later.
Taking him by the arms, she towed him inside. In the corner he slumped slowly to the floor and brought one knee up, draping his arm across. He let his head fall back against the wall. His mouth curved as he chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Her palms slapped along the walls, searching for the valves.
“You rescued me.”
“Maybe you’ll have the opportunity to return the favor someday. And I’m not done yet. Let’s get that blood flowing a little quicker in that body of yours first. Where’s the water? Oh, here we go.”
He let out a yell. Cold, the water was damned cold, kicking his heart into high gear. Soon, Hallie adjusted the temperature to something comfortably warming that sluiced over his skin. He closed his eyes and turned his face to it, and might have fallen asleep if she’d allowed it.
He didn’t really want to stand up, but she wasn’t giving him a choice. She made him move his arms and legs, turn his head, walk back and forth, holding him up like an invalid. It worked, though. Little by little his strength returned, as did his awareness.
“What’s that you’re wearing?” he asked after a few minutes of feeling the smooth fabric under his hands.
“My sleeping gown.”
“It’s soaked.”
“Really?”
He laughed at her tone of sarcasm and pulled her close, burying his face into her saturated hair. Her gown couldn’t absorb another drop of the water running over their heads. His exercise suit was in much the same condition. Despite the reason, he felt so good standing with her, enveloped in the darkness in the warm water like rain. He heard a subdued rumbling, the drains perhaps, or the pumping of blood in his veins.
He wanted to take off her gown, slip it over her head, hold her naked body in the stream of water and watch it wash over the peaks of her breasts, curl over the gentle curve of her belly, glide silver between her legs. The recycled water would stay warm for hours, if need be. He imagined her response to his caresses, pictured lifting her into his arms, legs aroun
d him as he plunged into the intimate warmth of her against the shower wall. Together they would forget the mess of things around them.
Burke pushed his fingers into Hallie’s hair, drawing it back and stroking the side of her throat. Her pulse leaped beneath his fingertips. She held herself very still, the vibrations along the surface of her skin sending chemical currents into every point of contact with his. He took a small step away from her, fitting his hand beneath her chin and tilting her head up. She blinked water from her lashes.
He sucked in a great gulp of air, like a fish at the water’s surface, and dropped his hand to his side. “Let’s go, Hallie. Let’s go deal with that bastard.”
IV.
WHAT HAS NIGHT TO DO WITH SLEEP?
In the darkened gym Burke managed to find his cubicle. While he donned his dry coverall, Hallie stepped away, yanking her soaked gown over her head. He heard the noise of it, wet and grasping, and then she tossed it aside. She stood an arm’s length away from him and he couldn’t see her. Probably just as well.
“Do you want to put on an exercise suit?” Burke suggested, handing a towel in her direction.
“No. I’m fine. This will do.”
The towel. Burke nodded, recognizing that there would be no argument.
In the lit corridor she walked at his side, her head held high, eyes hard. She said nothing, gaze directed straight ahead. Burke cast a discreet glance in her direction. The towel covered her from just under her arms to mid-thigh. Her feet were bare, as they had been when she’d come to find him. Droplets of water spiraled from her hair as she moved, spotting the floor in passage as well as the left side of his coverall, cool on the back of his hand.
Despite her lack of attire, she looked…formidable.
And lovely. He couldn’t deny that. He turned his eyes away, vision lurching slightly in lingering aftereffect of the drug.
Outside her door Hallie paused to draw a deep breath while she clutched the front of the towel to keep it from parting. She spoke her name. The three sections slid into the wall. Burke moved in front of her as the door opened, entering first.
He found Shane curled in a fetal position on Hallie’s berth, eyes closed, unresponsive when Burke called his name. Burke stared down at him, hands fisted at his side. His anger dwindled at the sight of the man, but not by much.
Hallie stooped to pick up her fallen robe from the floor. She slipped her arms into it. “Is he—?”
“Dead? No, believe it or not, I think he’s asleep. Shane, wake up.” Burke shook him roughly by the shoulder.
Hallie poked a bare toe at a pair of hypos on the floor. Hearing the noise of the cylinders rolling, Burke glanced down, spotting the torn hem of Hallie’s robe. He thought he saw blood but she moved too quickly for him to be sure, bending to snatch both hypodermics.
“I didn’t actually think he was dead, Burke. Check his pulse, though. Wait, I’ll do it.”
Before he could argue, she stepped around him and pressed her fingers to the side of Shane’s neck under his jaw. Lowering her hand to her side, she stared down at him. “Do you think he gave himself the same drug he gave you?”
“Why would he do that?” Burke asked.
Hallie met Burke’s gaze dead-on. “There are a number of reasons. Facing you might be one of them, unless, of course, he never expected you to make it. In that case, facing me would be another.”
A rill of hair coursed up both arms beneath his sleeves. She meant it. What had he ever done to deserve her consideration? Moved, he looked away from her and around the cell. For the first time he noted the overturned chair, the sheets from the berth lying in a heap against the wall, the shards of some type of material scattered across the floor. He bent to pick several pieces up, fitting the shards together in his palm. Glancing at Hallie he witnessed moisture in her eyes.
“I saw this, the night of your sedation. What did it used to be?”
She shook her head. “I…it was nothing.”
Not true. Burke set the broken pieces on the desk. Under cover of his task, he studied her from beneath his lashes, searching for evidence of violence on her throat, lower arms, calves, feet, the backs of her hands…
He straightened. “What happened to your knuckles?”
“Oh.” She lifted one hand into the other, rubbing the abrasions as if just noticing them. “That.”
“Yes, that.” He grabbed her hand to further examine the injury. Behind them Shane made a noise but did not waken, still breathing normally. How unfortunate.
“When I was young,” she whispered, “I was trained in the way of my people to self-defense. It is a very ritualistic style of combat requiring maintenance of inner calm, everything measured, precise, using the size and actions of your opponent against him. I’m afraid I must have forgotten all of that. I hit him with my fist. In the eye. If you turn his head you’ll see.”
Burke lowered his lids, trying to blot out the image of the deeds precipitating her own. He couldn’t. “What did he do to you, Hallie? Tell me.”
She withdrew her fingers from his grasp. “In the end? Nothing.”
Hallie walked back to the berth, frowning at Shane. “What I can’t figure out is why the cybernetics didn’t come rushing in. Do you think Skelly knows something about how to get around the monitoring?”
Burke grunted. “That would make an interesting discussion, but I doubt he’ll tell me.”
Shane rolled onto his back. His eyes opened. He grabbed Hallie’s hand. Lightning quick, Burke pushed past Hallie and had his fingers around Shane’s throat. Not a heavy hand, not enough to cut off the oxygen to his lungs, simply enough to make him understand the danger of his position. The black eye Hallie had given him showed dark against his pale countenance. Burke waited until Shane had released Hallie’s hand and had moved away, then he let the man sit up.
Shane stared at the two of them, but he didn’t speak again. Wrapping his arms around his middle, he began to rock back and forth in small, rapid movements. Hallie surveyed him with a mingling of anger and pity. Without looking away, she asked, “What is the procedure for reporting an incident like this? Is there one?”
On the berth Skelly made a small sound, almost a whimper.
“Via cell monitor,” Burke answered. “I’ll take care of it.”
Shane flinched when Burke hauled him off the berth. Still groggy, the man was unsteady on his feet. At the door Shane made one last attempt to speak to Hallie. Burke jerked him by his collar out into the corridor.
“Secure this door, Hallie. I’ll be back.”
* * *
Hallie picked up the overturned chair, the sheets from the floor. She gathered up the remnants of the soundsphere and set them on the desk beside those Burke had collected. Extending her pointer finger, she delicately rearranged the shards until they were lying side by side. There would be no repair.
Pulling the damp towel out from beneath her robe, Hallie dried her hair, then climbed into her clothes, fastening her coverall all the way to the base of her throat. She put on her boots and braided her hair.
Burke was alive. Why she felt such relief was not something she cared to examine. Recognition would be complicated. Better to let it rest for now.
Hallie snapped the crumpled sheets to spread over the mattress, but let them collapse against her uniformed legs, the hems clutched in her fists. Tiny drops of blood spattered the white berth. Frowning, Hallie flipped the mattress over, tucked the sheets into place, folded the pair of blankets neatly at the foot. Her stomach tightened. She turned away.
Eyes closed, Hallie stood quietly a moment. A rumbling vibrated through the floor at her feet. She shoved her hands deep into her pockets, brushing past a large, tender, blue-black bruise in the crease between her upper thigh and abdomen. The ache in her muscles was already evident. Tomorrow would be worse.
She would give a great deal to sleep right now, but she knew if she lay down on the berth sleep would not be what came to claim her. Instead, she sat in the chair
, reaching into the desk drawer to resume work on Calypso’s bracelet.
Some time later Burke still had not returned. The intermittent rumbling had gotten louder, more insistent, less easy to ignore. Tossing down the bracelet, Hallie went to the door. Impatiently she spoke her name. The door did not open. Calming herself, she made the announcement again. The door remained firm.
Hallie looked to the Eye. “Question.”
“Continue.”
So, it was active. She hadn’t been sure, considering the fact Skelly’s actions in this cell had not summoned the cybernetics. She didn’t know if the Eye was active at all times, or only when addressed. If she recalled correctly, the unit had advised her on the first day that all other areas were continually monitored, but the reference had not necessarily been to individual cells.
“Why won’t my door open?”
“Prisoner lock-down.”
“I—what?”
“Rephrase, please.”
The rumbling had gotten louder in the course of the questioning, almost drowning out the unit’s request. Hallie imagined all manner of mechanical malfunction requiring the confinement of prisoners. Or a riot. That could explain the rumbling. However, she didn’t think it likely other prisoners could gain access to this sector.
“Why is there a prisoner lock-down?”
“For the physical safety of all prisoners.”
Hallie let out an explosive breath. “What safety issue has caused the lock-down?”
“Ionic storm.”
Hallie said nothing for a moment. Her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. “What is an ionic storm—no, wait. Why is an ionic storm a safety issue for the prisoners?”
“In case of power disruption, all back-up power is diverted indefinitely to prisoner cells.”
Hallie collapsed into the chair, gaze roaming about the minimal dimensions of the chamber. They seemed even more minimal, of a sudden.
“Are you saying there’s the possibility of being stuck in here?”
“Rephrase, please.”
“What happens if the power does not divert to the prisoners’ cells?” Hallie’s throat had gone dry thinking of the door that would not open.
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