A Solid Core of Alpha (21 page)

To his surprise and relief, Anderson burst out laughing. “My vote is on fucked myself up, you think?”

C.J. nodded and laughed a little himself. Then he sobered, and he allowed himself to look at Anderson in the new outfit. He looked… God. Hot. Sweet. Spicy. Beautiful. His appreciation must have showed in his eyes, because Anderson blushed and ducked his head.

“You like?” he asked, doing that thing again where he looked at C.J. from under his lowered lashes. C.J. couldn’t help himself. He did the same thing.

“Yeah, I like,” he said softly. “I like a whole lot.”

Anderson’s smile widened, and he tilted his chin back so that he was looking at C.J. straight on, and C.J. was the one pulling back. “Good. It’s good to be liked.

C.J. didn’t resist the shiver of awareness and desire that raced through his bloodstream. He’d acknowledged it, right? He’d beat off to it, right? So it was there, and he knew about it, and if he knew about it, he could control it, right?

He looked at Anderson again, whose expression had gone faintly predatory as he started to strip off his new holo-decorated jeans to the plain white cotton briefs beneath. He saw C.J. watching, and C.J. cursed himself, especially when that predatory grin widened and Anderson reached unselfconsciously into his bag of purchases. What had happened to the kid who had run into C.J.’s room to change? C.J. didn’t know, but he almost wanted
that
Anderson back.

“So, Mr. I-don’t-like-authority, how do you like me now?” Anderson stood there in his underwear alone, looking at C.J. over his shoulder with such wicked humor that C.J. was completely sucked in.

C.J. tightened his stomach like he was fighting off a punch to the gut and shook his head, backing up. “Better with clothes on, my man, better with clothes.”

Anderson obeyed and tried on his next purchase, but his laugh was low and a little dirty, and C.J. wanted to know which hologram had taught him bad-boy, because he had that down pat.

That night, C.J. skipped the part where Anderson went to sleep on the couch and put the kid in his bed instead. Cliché? Yes. But necessary too. Anderson hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before, and C.J. was tired of sleeping sitting up on the couch. This way would cut out the middleman, and C.J. hoped it would make him more aware than ever of his role as Anderson’s caretaker.

It helped that Anderson wanted to talk as they drifted off. He asked C.J. questions about his friends.

“How was Bobby today? And Kate? Do they miss me?”

“Very much,” C.J. told him truthfully. “We can take you to visit tomorrow, after you go work out with Michelle. How’s that?”

Anderson made a satisfied sound, and C.J. smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy as they sank into the bed. “That’s great. Thanks, C.J.”

“It’s not just me,” C.J. felt compelled to protest. “We all want you to be happy, Anderson. I mean… you just lived through something huge. The fact that you’re not a raving maniac sort of speaks well of the whole damned human race, you know? People want to reward that. They’re sort of hoping that all of that good human-ness will rub off on
them
.”

Anderson was tired. He’d stumbled into his night clothes—he was still wearing C.J.’s old shorts and a T-shirt for that—and practically fallen into bed, but suddenly his shoulders twitched, and he pushed himself upright in agitation.

“I’m nothing to admire, C.J.,” he said unhappily. “I’m… I’m so flawed. I… you can’t let them think I’m good, you understand? I did bad things on that trip. I….”

C.J. knew what he was talking about. “I met him, Anderson,” C.J. said softly. “I’ve met him. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. The world doesn’t have to know about Alpha.”

“
I
don’t even want to know about Alpha,” Anderson murmured, and C.J. was glad when Anderson’s shoulders relaxed after that and he could hear the even breathing of sleep through the quiet room.

A
NDERSON
popped him in the cheek with his elbow as he sat up in bed for his horrible, soundless scream, so C.J. ended up going to work with a shiner.

The worst part was trying to explain to Cassidy how it had happened and enduring her censuring look of pity.

“God, Cyril, you’ve got no sense at all, do you know that? He’s not a gamma bird. You’re going to have to give him back, you know that, right?”

“I know he’s not a gamma bird, dammit!” C.J. snapped. “Look, can we just go in and watch his life some more? Because, you know, I can’t get enough of seeing absolute fucking misery, okay? God knows seeing him sit up in bed and scream isn’t enough fun in person that I have to relive it a thousand times via holographic 3D photography!”

Cassie surprised him then. Without another sharp word, she threw herself into his arms for a sisterly embrace that had none of the awkwardness of their initial cling-together the day before. “You’re going to get hurt, C.J.,” she whispered. “He’s living in your quarters, sleeping in your bed, and you’re seeing him suffer every day. You’re going to want to help him, and he… he might be too damaged to help. Baby, send him to Michelle’s quarters, ship him downside… look at you. You’ve got a black eye, and you don’t look like you’ve slept in three days. Please, Cyril? Please?”

C.J. shook his head and gave her shoulders a squeeze and then stepped back. “I’ll be fine, Cass,” he said at last, not looking at her. “You know me, I never take things too seriously. We’ll wrap this up, get Julio in here to break down the holo-science, and I’ll ask him if he wants to go stay at Jensen’s clinic for a while. He’ll like it there, and Jensen’s dying to get a crack inside his cranium, I can tell.”

“Oh, God, C.J., you’re… you’re already attached.”

C.J. shrugged. “Naw, I’m too superficial to get attached. Ask Jensen. He’ll tell you.”

Cassie sighed. “Yeah, if he was smart, he’d tell me you broke his heart before he had a chance to break yours.”

Wince. “That wasn’t quite his version of events.”

“That’s because for all his so-called brilliance in the field, he never got my little brother like I do. Let’s go in, Cyril. I can’t listen to you lie to yourself anymore, and we need to get a move on.”

They went in and watched Anderson program Kate. They kept the vids in real time and hit record to send the info to Julio and listened to Kate’s caustic commentary behind them.

“Really, Anderson? You couldn’t have given me the delicate features of a supermodel and some knowledge of how to give myself a manicure? Jesus, I could have done a better job myself!”

C.J. was about to make a sarcastic remark, but he looked behind him and saw two things. One was that Kate had perfectly manicured nails with a demure coat of pink glitter paint on them, which was so out of keeping with what he was seeing on the screen as her programming that he realized she must have done that herself—right down to learning how, since all of the holograms were programmed to synthesize human behavior right down to an algorithm that sent them to the bathroom every so many hours. The other was that Bobby was looking at her fondly.

“If he’d given you all that, I might not have fallen in love with you,” Bobby said simply, and Kate’s disgruntled look eased.

“Well,” she sniffed, “maybe I can forgive him for that.”

C.J.’s head hurt with the possibilities of holograms falling in love whether or not they were programmed for it, and he focused on the very young Anderson on the screen with something akin to desperation.

Kate came into being and then argued with Anderson for every step of Bobby’s programming. Anderson won most of the battles, which made C.J.’s head hurt even more, and then a snippet of conversation caught his attention.

“Okay, Kate, it says here ‘standard orientation’. What in the hell does that mean?”

Kate shrugged. “Hells if I know, Anderson. It’s
my
programming. Everything about me feels standard.”

“Oh shit,” Cassie muttered next to him, and C.J. cringed.

He looked behind him and said, “So he programmed all of you to standard orientation?” God, liking men would totally blow if you’d programmed all of your companions to be straight.

“Not me,” Henry said with a playful eyebrow waggle. “I’m programmed bisexual.”

“Yeah,” Kate said, rolling her eyes. “That’s because Bobby and I programmed all of the potential companions. Anderson didn’t have anything to do with you guys.”

Cassie shook her head. “I still can’t believe he let the holograms program the holograms. That is some weird bullshit—no offense, Kate, it just is!”

Bobby shrugged and met eyes with his wife. “You sort of have to keep watching. There was a… well, kind of a progression….”

Kate blanched. “Uh, yeah. By the way? Don’t expect to see a lot of us after the health and hygiene files are opened, okay? I think I’m too human to hang out here for long after that.”

Bobby leered. “Oh glory,
I’m
not!”

C.J.’s head gave a terrible throb, and he turned his attention resolutely back to the screen. Watch the holo-programming now. Watch it—what, Anderson was fourteen here? They had two years to wade through, two years of spectacular holo-science breakthroughs before the H and H files were opened. Concentrate on that. At this rate, it would take what? A week? He had a week. A week to grow accustomed to the way his body responded to both Anderson and Alpha. A week to reconfigure his attachment to Anderson into something completely platonic. A week to remember that Anderson needed a friend, not a flighty, flaky lover.

It was a strange situation. He just needed to grow accustomed to it, that was all. Right?

Yeah. Absolutely. Right.

Chapter 11

Health and Hygiene

C.J.
COULD
only be grateful that Anderson had spent such an enormous amount of time building his world in little bricks of air and electric current. It gave C.J. and Cass time to recuperate. They watched Bobby come online, funny, irrepressible Bobby, and then watched the dynamic form, Kate giving the orders, the boys grumbling or circumventing but never outright defying.

“Why don’t you just tell her you’re the boss?” Bobby asked once, and Anderson’s dignified response haunted C.J. for weeks.

“That would be cheating,” he said, and it became the watchword between the three of them for out-and-out reprogramming someone or something that didn’t agree with any of them.

“Not cheating” was very important to Anderson.

“I don’t understand,” Cassie said one afternoon, holding an iced glass of Scorch to her forehead. They avoided the temptation to call too many days short for a medicinal belt of anything strong, but when they did, there was usually a
very
good reason for it. In this case, they had just seen Anderson’s halting, embarrassed explanation to the hologram they’d programmed as their teacher that everyone in the room was a hologram, and he, Anderson, had created them.

“What should he have done?” C.J. asked, downing his belt of Scorch. It had been painful, and even worse had been the way he’d wept on Kate, like a little brother might on an older sister, for a good hour after school had ended.

“Well, Anderson, it’s not like it’s going to change the way they act around you, is it?” Kate had asked practically, and Anderson nodded.

“Sometimes I wish it would,” he muttered. “I really need some help with this fuel ratio thing, and everyone wants to design amusement parks instead.”

“God,” Cassie had snarled, making note of the personnel issues and the way Anderson dealt with them and then sending the notes to Julio and Jensen. They had both remarked upon the weirdness of reporting to a top-notch holo-engineer and a top-flight shrink. Cassie said it was just plain odd, but C.J. thought that the overlap had been bound to happen eventually. Julio came in after they left to look at the sections of recording they’d highlighted or the places on the bridge where the programming resided, and to ask the holograms questions. After that first day, both Cassie and C.J., and even Jensen, had agreed that the smaller the audience for Anderson’s personal life on display, the better.

Cassie and C.J. were it. No one else got to gawk at the boy who had talked to dolls for over eight years.

Today, Cassie, who used to organize her dolls by hair color, wardrobe specifications, and appropriate matching stuffed animals, was having a hard time understanding how Anderson could have had all that power at his disposal and then refused to use it on the grounds that it was cheating.

“He should have changed it!” Cassie bemoaned. “It was his world! If it’s your world, you get to set the rules, don’t you? Why wouldn’t he set the rules? I mean… there he was! Mini-God! Why wouldn’t he just take charge?”

C.J. sighed and thought about Anderson shooting him those predatory, playful looks, terrified that C.J. wouldn’t respond. “Don’t you get it?” he said after another swallow of Scorch. “Don’t you get it? It was his world. Think about it, Cass. When you were twelve years old, you reported a teacher for not giving enough homework!”

“I liked my boundaries!” Cassie hiccupped. God, she was a funny drunk. Watching Anderson grow up in psychotropic wonderland may have been bloody damned hard on both of them, but seeing Cass as moderately human was an unexpected benny on the side.

“I know you did.” C.J. smiled. “You liked them so much, you had to make them
my
boundaries.”

“You
needed
boundaries, Cyril!” Cassie said, pointing her finger past her liquor glass. “If you hadn’t had boundaries, you would have fucking lost your little baby mind!”

“Yeah,” C.J. agreed. “Yes, I would have. I would have lost my little baby mind. But not Anderson.”

Cassie took a hard swallow and drained the glass before she dumped it all over herself. “Whaddya mean?”

C.J. sighed. “I mean, when you’re twelve years old, everyone’s telling you what to do. There’re all sorts of fucking rules. Get up, go to sleep, study this, study that, don’t talk to strangers, don’t stare at the sun, you can’t work off-world until you’re twenty-three—”

“Didn’t stop you from running away from home and hiding aboard a shuttle when you were sixteen!” Cassie accused, and C.J. flinched.