Deviation (34 page)

The woman's gaze lifted and locked with his. He saw her face drain of all color. Doubtless she read the violence in his expression, a violence he began to resent himself for holding back. He didn't realize he had moved but he spotted the flash of blue in those eyes, the glisten of petrified tears just behind them.

She made a frightened, whimpering sound that irritated him.

He backhanded her, knuckles connecting with her chin in a sudden, furious move. Zimmerman toppled backward, into the table, the IV pole dragging behind her. Because he knew it would cause her pain he grabbed the pole and wrenched it away. The tube tore out of her hand with a fine spray of blood and the woman finally screamed. Hedric grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. She tried to hold onto his forearm, to loosen his grip, to kick him, but her movements were flailing and wild. Undisciplined.

He squeezed harder, digging fingers and thumb into the sides of her little neck and felt fine bones roll just beneath. The gurgling wheeze that slipped past her suddenly blue-tinged lips was intensely gratifying. So Hedric held on, glaring into those blue eyes that looked like Mesa but held none of Mesa's life force behind them.

An explosion rocked through the ship, throwing him off balance. Hedric let go of her to catch himself on the bed. Beyond the quarantine walls he could see Jellison turn to the left. His soldier fired several times, rushing for the western doorway.

Hedric looked down at where Zimmerman had fallen. She was hacking, desperately trying to breathe, and he smiled. "I hope that's your husband coming."

"Please ... " she wheezed. "If I ... If I could fix it ... I would."

"Fix it? You think there's any way to fix this?"

Hedric vaguely remembered his mother promising the same thing. Celeocia had said she might have a way to fix it, too. What had she hoped Reesa could do? Write the woman back to life?

No, he thought. There was no fix to this. There was no secret way to undo the past, to bring Mesa back to life. There was only that black wall of grief, fully present in front of him with no grayness in between.

"I am ... so sorry." She lifted herself onto her hands and knees. "I know it doesn't help ... but I am so ... so sorry. She didn't deserve what I did to her. None of them deserved it."

Hedric stood still. Zimmerman was crying. He heard the sincerity in her voice. He could feel the sharp bite of her emotion as she finally looked up at him.

"If you kill me now, perhaps you'll feel better. But I doubt it." Reesa shook her head and gave him a faint smile. "Under all that pain, Hedric Prosser, you are still a good man. That's the man that Mesa fell in love with. A man capable of extreme strength, who stood up when others might cower down."

Hedric swallowed tightly but didn't respond. His mind was utterly blank.

"Maybe I deserve to die for what I did," she went on, slowly getting back to her feet as she spoke. "But there is mercy even for the likes of me."

That got his attention. Hedric leveled his weapon at her, anger igniting somewhere deep inside him. "Your husband didn't show any mercy to Mesa."

"That's enough!" Borden's voice was muffled but clear through the Plexiglas.

"Matthew Borden himself," Hedric sneered, unable to quell his pleasure at the man's presence. "I was hoping that was you."

Matt limped to the quarantine doors, a small pistol dangling in his right hand.

Hedric noted the weapon, noted too the way Borden first checked on the woman and then focused on the fight. He saw a telling twitch at Matt's left eye, visible even through two layers of Plexiglas. He couldn't stop himself from laughing.

He'd thought maybe David had been bluffing about Reesa being married to the man, but it was obvious now that he hadn't been. Borden really was married to Zimmerman, and Hedric knew by his posture and glare that real affection existed between them.

"God," Hedric chuckled wryly. "How long have we been at each other's throats? Seven years?"

"I never counted."

"Seven years, I'm sure of it," Hedric's mirth subsided quickly. "Seven years and I finally have something important to you."

Borden's expression turned hard. "There isn't a bargain in this galaxy that is going to keep you alive, Hedric Prosser. Touch her again and I will see you boiled to death. Slowly."

"Creative," he said. "Problem is, I don't intend to touch her again. In fact, I'm very glad you're here to see this."

The lights in the quarantine box switched to red and a sudden, light mist released from the vents. Startled, Hedric's attention swerved to Zimmerman, whose left hand pressed firmly to the euthanasia button. She darted for the oxygen mask at the bedside, and Hedric hesitated for approximately two seconds before he realized he had to move.

He ran for the doors and leapt into the decontamination chamber, coughing hard into the crook of his elbow. He heard Borden shouting something, felt the rattle of the outer chamber door as the arrogant man beat on it, and dizzily prayed that Caresse Zimmerman was already dead.

***

Matt hit the Plexiglas door again and seriously considered shooting through it. The more rational part of him stopped the action, remembering that the quarantine unit was designed to be bulletproof. The less ration part of him - a part he didn't recognize and didn't quite know how to deal with - was focused on the hazy view of his wife through gas and glass.

She'd managed to reach the oxygen mask but had passed out before she could secure it to her face. Her nose and mouth lay crooked in the well of the mask, half exposed to the deadly mist clouding the room. His chest cinched tight just looking at her, renewed frustration making him kick the door again. Pain spiked through his injured leg and he swallowed a curse.

The decontamination timer ticked three more seconds before it opened.

If he'd been thinking straight Matt would have shot several holes into Hedric Prosser's body as he passed him. He was not, however, capable of thinking about more than Reesa and stepped over the prone, half-conscious man instead.

It was apparently exactly what Hedric had wanted.

Hedric punched his injury before Matt could pass him. An instant later Hedric was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Matt dropped his weapon, which caught Hedric's attention and they both lunged for it at once. They collided, grappling each other away from the gun.

Desperate for any sort of advantage against the stockier man, Matt slammed his elbow directly into Hedric's groin. Hedric grunted and fell forward. His hand knocked the gun away from the fight, which forced Matt to change tactics.

Launching himself off the floor, Matt got an arm around Hedric's neck and he began earnestly attempting to rip the man's head off.

The quarantine doors opened and Matt looked up from his battle. Chamberlain rushed into the little room, dark eyes fixed on the scene. Matt growled in pain as he felt Hedric's teeth sink hard into his forearm.

"Reesa!" He snarled up at his Fomorri.

Chamberlain nodded once and sprinted into Reesa's room.

With a sudden shout of rage and effort Hedric lifted himself, dragging Matthew up until his feet lost the floor. Then he rammed them both into the sealed outer doors. Matt almost lost his grip, but muscled his arm tighter around Hedric's neck and half-growled-half-shouted his irate determination.

Hedric slammed something hard into his side.

Pain knocked his grip loose and the blow came again. Matt made a clumsy grab for the control panel just to keep himself upright, distantly aware of the countdown until the decompression chamber would open. The large, black numbers blurred in his vision; four seconds.

But he was more acutely aware of the warm trail of blood that he could feel soaking through his shirt.

He'd been stabbed. The blasted man had caught him right at the juncture between back plate and chest plate, the only known weakness in every combat vest.

Two seconds.

And Hedric was moving to do it again.

The doors released.

Hedric's black tinted boot knife swung straight for Matt's neck. It was arched at a precise angle and headed for his jugular. Matt glanced away, back toward where Chamberlain struggled to revive Reesa. The Fomorri was too intent on Reesa to know that he was about to lose his employer.

It didn't really matter.

Reesa's limp hand was what he focused on. Elegant. Perfect fingernails. Slender bones. He caught that image and held it. If he was going to die he wasn't going to let Hedric be the last thing he saw.

He heard the doors open and then two shots rang out.

The knife clattered to the ground.

Reluctantly, Matt turned his attention back to his would-be killer.

Hedric staggered to the left but kept his feet, one hand pressed tight against his chest. The man gave a wet choke and coughed, unfocused blue eyes moving to the outer doors.

Myron stood there, his weapon still trained on his captain.

Hedric's attention changed from blank shock to rage and the man made a stubborn attempt toward the door. His left foot dragged slow and awkward, smearing blood across the white floor. As the doors started to close Myron shot again. Hedric's head snapped backward and his body fell.

Matt let go of a wheezy breath and fought to stay conscious. He had the distinct sensation of floating and time seemed to blur. Myron and Chamberlain dragged him into the quarantine room. The bustle of several doctors smeared in his vision as they rushed to aid.

As he was hoisted onto a metal table beside Reesa, Matthew caught the sight of his dead brother on the floor.

Mother was going to be very upset. That seemed irrational to Matt since David had never treated her very well, but she was a mother above all else.

Three of the white coated doctors bypassed him to concentrate on Reesa, whose pallid color and blue-rimmed mouth only served to intensify his numbed state. He heard a hissing-whirring sound at his back where Chamberlain hadn't stopped working. A pleasantly warm sensation curled into his body, stemming out from the wound and dimming his attention further. Then Chamberlain tore open half of his pant leg, revealing the gash in his calf, and moved to mend that wound, too.

Something jabbed him in the arm and a shock jolted through his body, thoroughly rousing him from the awkward state. Sounds came into focus first. He could hear the doctors working on Reesa as they gave clipped, urgent orders to one another. And then he heard a low, annoying alarm reverberating through the ship.

Chamberlain was talking to him.

"How are you functioning, Boss?"

Matt shook his head, instinctively attempting to clear it. "Seventy percent and climbing," he said.

Chamberlain grinned, relieved. "Newbill's clearing the rest of the bay. There were two more grenades set to blow if any doors moved."

The buzzing alarm concerned him and Matt glanced at the doors. Charles Baine stood there, glancing frantically between Reesa and Matt and back again. Something else was going on. He frowned and tried to concentrate. What the hell else could be wrong?

"Stab wound's pretty deep," Chamberlain said. "I wouldn't go jogging but you'll hold until the doctors can patch you proper."

A horrifyingly long tube was shoved down Reesa's throat. Matt spotted it and looked away, struggling for the more clinical side of his psyche. He saw instead the video screen where two different slides were on display. While Matt was not a scientist, he had worked around them so long that he understood the basics. The view on the screen was undeniably easy to read.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered and glanced down at his dead brother. "You son of a bitch, you did it."

"Boss?"

Matt slid to his feet and forced himself to think around the medications coursing through him. Chamberlain kept him upright for a moment as he paused to review his wife. She wasn't dead yet. The doctors were still flying through some procedure and he felt torn between staying to watch and facing whatever trouble Baine had to tell him. But in the end he recognized the low alarm still humming through the ship and realized that Celeocia Prosser, High Priestess of the Novo Femina, had her own stakes in this situation.

Stakes she had willingly sacrificed her own son for.

"I want all of my brother's research copied into a portable device for Mr. Degenes." Matt glanced at Myron. The man looked remarkably well, if a bit shaken.

Matt turned away from Reesa and the quarantine room and limped to the doors. It felt as though there was a void where his side should be, like if he reached for it all he would feel was air, but he managed to keep himself from falling as he headed out of the medical unit.

"Mr. Degenes," he said as they waited for the decompression chamber.

"Yes, sir?" Myron said behind him.

"I'll have all data from the Lothogy transferred to the Io. The race is for Kate now so you're going to have to be fast. The Femina want her and are not going to give her up without a fight."

"So what's the plan?"

"We distract. You run."

"Right ... " Myron paused. "Does the Io have underwater systems?"

"Untested, but yes."

"Glorious."

The doors opened.

"And Mr. Degenes," Matt spoke as he limped out of the chamber. "You will be carrying the cure to the Mavirus Carcinoma. Attempt to stay alive."

Myron's feet scuffed against the floor. "Holy shit."

Matt took a careful breath and faced Charles. "Report."

"High Priestess, I feel it is my duty to remind you that our vessels have not been tested out of atmosphere."

Eanmar's blunt statement forced Celeocia to look away from the communications screen. Her personal assistant stood poised at the command center's entrance, hands clasped before her and distorted face almost impassive. Her one green eye, however, flickered with determination.

For a moment, Celeocia was proud of the woman.

"It is a risk we must take," Celeocia said.

"No. It is risk you want to take. It is not unavoidable." Eanmar did not move from her position. She did not even gesture to emphasize her point. "We are not prepared for this battle. If we strike now we will die. Many of the Femina will be punished for our actions and the Community will forever ban women from organizing again. I must ask you to stop."