Starbleached (5 page)

“You will be here until I have successfully synthesized the
enzyme. The sooner I am finished, the sooner you will go home.” It turned once
more. Her eyes dropped to the floor, catching no more than a glimpse of white
eye. This time pale hands intruded on her vision, holding water and the MRE. It
set them at her feet and returned to its work once more.

After a few minutes, she took the bottle in her bound hands
and drank.

*****

Then:

“Can I talk to you?”

Adrienne looked to the door. Mich Landry stood in civvie
clothes, hands in his pockets. Weird. Mich usually avoided Bryan’s lab like it
had plague. She’d seen him twice this week. This trip made three. Well, maybe it
made sense on one level. Bryan and Adry had had a breakthrough. Two successful
simulations. The second one showed the Enzyme might not just protect them from
being drained; it would also prevent the subsumation process. And while the
protection from feeding only lasted about six hours, subsumation was off the
table permanently. No one who took the Enzyme would have to worry about losing
themselves in a monster’s form, ever again. If, that is, the Enzyme worked.

Bryan had tentatively mentioned the possibility of human
testing.
Possibility,
he had emphasized. Everyone had still volunteered
themselves as subjects. Maybe Mich being here was perfectly innocent.

Yeah. And maybe pigs would arrive at Holton soon, having
flown under their own power. “What do you want?”

“Hey, the way you and my brother are at it, you might be
family soon. Can’t a guy have a talk with his family without getting gear
thrown at him? Come on. Let’s go to the parks.”

In the public areas of Holton, it was almost like a
fairyland. All greenery and light, the long metal braces trickling water from
ceiling to floor, it was as if the shrinks thought killing angles and chroming
everything would keep human ugliness from breeding in corners. And because not
everyone could drop to the grass when they needed a break, every hundred yards
a small circle of green held a gazebo. What the designers called them, Adry
didn’t know. Everyone who lived here called them the Parks.

Adry let Mich lead her to the nearest. Silver struts
sprouted ten thousand vines. Mirror smooth ceiling reflected her every
movement. A Hap-eeze dispenser sat in one corner with a stack of cut crystal
glasses beside it. There was a coffee shop on every floor, a dispenser in every
apartment, but Hap-Eeze was the latest in serotonin replacement therapy. Holton
must have gotten one hell of a sponsorship from them.

The fountain in here was weird. Every park had a different
one, as if there’d been a contest on who could splash water around most
creatively. This one was a single chrome bowl. A glass-clear stream fell from
the ceiling and splashed into the far left corner of its wide and spreading
pool. The design was intended to be modern, but Adry found it chilling. Dark.
Primitive. Something a witch would position under a three-toned moon. She could
almost see it: spindly figure in black robes, smoke rising around her fingers
with tiles made of bone spread on the ground before her feet. Everything dark
as a tiger’s scream…save for the bowl. Silver bowl, silver water, silver moon.
Men summoned the future in silver as if metallic brightness could color
tomorrow with light.

She shook herself, but the feeling didn’t go away.
Restlessly, she walked to the Hap-Eeze dispenser and dialed up a dose. Blue
fluid filled the glass. A magic potion to cast sorrow away. She looked up as
she drank it, and someone had scrawled
The Cave
on the ceiling
in
dark red lipstick.
So I’m not the only one.

Mich ran his fingers through the scrying bowl. He held his
own glass of bottled joy up in a toast. “To Holton Station’s tomorrow. May it
be bright as a newborn star.”

 “They design this on purpose, you know.” She poured the
Hap-Eeze into the scrying bowl and watched modern science blend with the ghost
of the medieval. “The color blue makes you feel peaceful. High price glass, you
feel high money yourself…and the chemicals tickle your brain in all the right
places.” She set the glass on the ground. “Just like the rest of this place.
Grass that never grows past a certain height. Flowers that bloom, but don’t
have a strong scent. Rain that falls every night at nine on the dot. We have
flora but no fauna. Plants are fertilized by nanotech. No real bugs. No birds,
no bugs.”

“No bees.” Mich smiled.

“No butterflies.” She countered. “Small little insects with
stingers…we’ve got those in plenty.”

“Don’t you just wish you could burn it all down?” He asked,
still smiling his Holton station smile.

“What do you want, Mich?”

 “I want my brother to do what he’s good at. Make a weapon.
Not this chemistry kit shit. He’s lost his edge, if he ever had it. I know all
about my brother, you know.” He moved a little closer, smile dropping away. “He
took my dad. He took my best friend. And he took…” Mich’s brown eyes tracked
over every inch of her body. “…the best…for himself.”

She swallowed, cold sweat breaking out on her arms. “I need
to get back to my work.” The scrying bowl was so large she couldn’t escape
Mich’s reach. He grabbed her elbow and pulled her back against the gazebo wall.

“Do you like it?” He asked, standing close to her. Far, far
too close. “Do you let him tie you to the bed? Do you think it’s all sweetness
and light when he fastens the knots?” She tried to pull free, and Mich grabbed
both wrists and pushed her back into the lattice work. Vines dug into her back
and wrists. “Because I think he’s reliving the moment he killed my friend.”

Whatever.
“Okay.” She looked into his wild brown
eyes. “You’re hurting me, and you need to let go now.”

His grip tightened more, his face was now inches from hers.
Close enough to kiss…or bite. “There is a shuttle leaving Holton in an hour. Be
on it, and don’t come back.”

An artificial breeze stirred the ivy leaves. It was
engineered to promote a peaceful outlook in the station population, and it
stirred Mich’s bangs as he glared into her eyes. The fingers on her wrists
clenched tighter. Diplomacy failed. Next tactic. She rammed her knee into
Michel’s groin. He moved fast enough to save his jewels, not fast enough to
keep his inner thigh from getting bruised. He grunted in pain, twisted her
wrists, and slammed her back against the gazebo wall. Tendons popped over wrist
bones.

“Isn’t this what you like?” he hissed.

“I’m really scared now. Please let go.”

He kissed her. Only it was rough and hard, and he pinned his
arm over her throat so that she couldn’t breathe. Clawing at him only increased
the influx of his tongue, and her lungs were burning. Dear god in heaven, she
couldn’t
breathe—

The world reeled. Air flooded her lungs, hot and honey cool
at the same time. She spilled into something warm and solid for a few brief
seconds, which heaved forward as a punching sound echoed in the gazebo. When
she looked up Bryan stood between her and Mich, fist pulled back for another
go. Blood ran from Michel Landry’s nose.

“What the
fuck
is wrong with you?” Bryan shouted.

Mich wiped the blood from his nose, staring as if he
couldn’t believe it was his. He looked back to his brother. “I know where your
skeletons are buried, you son of a bitch.”  Mich reeled away. “Why don’t you
tell her about them? How did you feel when you shot Dad? Were you a man? Did
your fucking balls grow three sizes that day? Putting Abrams out of his
so-called misery, how good did that make you feel?”

“You’re out of your mind.” Bryan glanced at Adry.
You
alright?
He seemed to say. She nodded, rubbing her neck where it still
throbbed.

“At least I’m putting my fucked up life to good use, man.
Putting bullets in the suckers’ heads while I got a chance. I’m not taking my
shit out on civilians the way
you
do. It might get me off, but--”

“Enough!” Bryan shouted. Anyone not watching the show would
be on their way now. “You need help, Mich. Seriously.” Bryan sighed and ran
fingers through his hair. “And you’re not going to get it here. Man, I did
not
want to do this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re assaulting people in the corridors, dude. I have to
file.”

A mental complaint, Adry filled in silently. And she’d file
too, soon as she had a chance. After three, you were sent up for a review. If
you failed, you got kicked out of the military and were sent back home for
therapy.

Mich’s eyes widened. “Don’t do it. Don’t even think—”

“General Miller’s been on me to file for the last four
months. Paige filed. Adry’s going to file. Hell,” He sighed, all the fight
bleeding out of him like the water in the scrying bowl. “David Abrams filed on
you too. Right before…” Bryan’s hands fell to his sides. “I owe you. But now I
have to. It’ll be your third complaint.” He paused. There were actual tears in
his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The look on Michel’s face was shattering. “You’ve been
trying to get me off the Force? You want me to be a civilian? Shovel cow shit
for the rest of my life? Is that what you want, you son of a bitch?”

Huh. Not even Mich thought he could pass a psych eval.

“No. It’s not. But if you don’t start getting help, and I
mean now, you’re going to end up...” He spread his hands out. “I don’t want
anyone else hurt. I’m sorry.”

Mich glared at his brother, then spat on the ground between
them. Pushing through the crowd, he pointed a black gloved finger back at his
brother. “It’s gonna happen one day. Your hypocritical ass is going to light on
fire, and I’m going to be the one with the match. You watch.” He pushed through
the crowd. “You watch!” He slammed into a lift, throwing a young private out of
it.

“He’s insane.” Adry breathed.

“He is.” Bryan pulled out his private com and began dialing.

“Who are you calling?”
“General Miller. I can’t cover for my brother anymore.”

*****

Now:

She flicked pieces of MRE onto the floor. Packaging. Bits of
foil and paper scraps. God, she wanted real food. The tortellini she and Bryan
had eaten at an exclusive sky top restaurant back on Holton. A glass of true
champagne and strawberries, and warm fingers tracing the boundaries of her
torso with an ice cube…

Get your mind out of the gutter. This is not the place.

Doors sectioned open and the Overseer came back in. It held
more water and another MRE, which it set down beside her. Oh, hell. She didn’t
need more water. The opposite, actually. This was going to be humiliating. She
closed her eyes and grabbed its ankle. “I have to use the restroom.” She stared
straight ahead, glancing up when it made no move either towards or away from
her. It appeared more than a little confused. She sighed, almost sobbing.
Goddamn aliens who never ate. She glared up the long planes of its body. “I
need to pee.”

It nodded and helped her stand. Tingles ran through her
tired legs and arms, feeling returning in a rush. The alien hand on her arm was
weirdly gentle as it lead her across the room. Stopping before a small door, it
took out a knife and cut the ties holding her hands together. “It is in there.”
It turned away while she entered and closed the door.

It was a small closet with close black walls, a lump of
glossy carapace in the center. One large red button glowed at the lump’s top.
When she pressed it, a valve sectioned open. A stream of water gushed past the
hole. It was a little high for comfort, but Adry sat and did her business.
Another push of the red button closed the lid. Not bad, for a species that
didn’t need a toilet. The Overseer was facing the door when she exited.

When they re-entered the lab, it switched the lights to
human bright before returning her to the bench. She frowned. Overseers saw a
different spectrum, and comfortable light for a human was painful to them. Why
would it tune the lights for her when she wasn’t helping it?

Also, they didn’t expel waste, and the term “restroom” had
confused it. But it hadn’t grown that bathroom in ten minutes, and it could
have just handed her a bucket. So why had this one grown the facility when it
didn’t even get the slang?

It set a bag on the bench beside her. “A change of clothes,”
it said. “And bedding. The bench will not be comfortable for another night.”

So she’d been here at least twelve hours. She glared at the
“gift”; Clothes and bedding belonging to a person. Who was probably dead now.
She moved away from the fabric.

“No one died to provide you with something to wear.” It
added, and moved back to its console.

Gingerly, she unfolded the blouse and caught her breath in
awe. Soft white fabric with an inch of complex embroidery on hem and sleeves.
Even in this place, with this company, her lust for pretty things erupted like
a fire. Work like this would pull a fortune in New York or Beijing. The other
items were lovely, too. Sturdy leather pants, worn soft at knees and hips.
Underthings made of knitted fiber and a shawl…oh, what a shawl. It took all her
willpower not to bury her face in the puff of its folds and shut the whole world
out.

“So there are people on this world.”  How much had this…
thing
taken from the people here? In lives? In goods and services?

“I take nothing.” The creature said, softly. “I trade.”

“What do you have, that a person would trade their lives
for?”

It hissed sharply as if she had struck it. “Protection.” It
snarled, gesturing around the lab. “A water purification system that doesn’t
need eight filters a year to work. Medical supplies that will not rot the limbs
off their bodies. Whatever other things here I do not vitally need. Things that
not even
your
people will give them. And…” it held up one hand, allowing
her to see the deep red organ on the palm.