Living in Freefall (Living on the Run Book 1) (27 page)

Later that day Ericca’s attending nurse brought in a phone.
“Call for you, Miss Archer. Someone saying he’s King Blackhart.” She held out a
projecta-phone to Ericca.

“Secure channel?”

“Per Captain French’s orders,” the attendant said. “We have
routers throughout the asteroids to confuse the signal. No one can trace the
call to here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’ll take it, thank you.” Ericca set the small ball-shaped
device on her thigh and turned it on.

Tyson appeared holographically above it. “Hi there. Feeling
better?”

“I am. Glad you called.”

“Really? I was afraid you might—”

“Do this?” Ericca abruptly switched the device off,
effectively hanging up on him. “Jerk.”

Ericca forced a smile. “And to think I wanted to marry the
man,” she said to herself. “Wow. Dodged that bullet.”

Two men wearing white smocks entered. “Ah, you’re awake, I
see,” said one. “Good, good.”

“And you are?”

“Of course, of course. So I’m Dr. Penko,” said the shorter,
rounder of the two, “and this is Dr. Emory. You won’t mind if we check your
. . .” Penko came around the bed, and pulled back the sheet to
uncover her arm. He gently lifted the severed limb to examine the stump.

Emory, a tall
ish
, medium built man with a beard,
stayed a comfortable distance back and tried to find something to do with his
hands. Ericca eyed him closely and the more she studied him the more nervous he
became.

“I know
you
,” Ericca said to Emory.

Looking like a boy with his hand in the cookie jar, Emory’s
eyes widened. “You do?”

“You were at Jordon Kori’s funeral. You stood behind
Hammond. I thought you were with him.”

“No. I don’t know the man.”

“So you knew Jordon though?”

Emory shrugged. “All my life. Went to the same schools, and
university. Had the same course study. Everything really.”

“Nice, nice,” Dr. Penko said, ignoring the two. “You’re
healing quite nicely. Pretty soon we’ll attach the bionics. They should mend
together quite nicely.”

Emory peered over Penko’s shoulder at her severed arm. “What
would you say, Doctor, another four weeks or so?”

“About that, Dr. Emory. Yes, yes, I’ve never seen tissue
integrate with metal before, but I’ll trust your expertise.”

“It’s not really a metal, Doctor,” Emory corrected. “It’s a
porous ceramic-polymer alloy. It fools the body into thinking it’s bone.”

“Both of you are MDs?” Ericca asked.

“No, no,” Penko said without looking up from Ericca’s severed
limb. “I’m a neurosurgeon, and Dr. Emory is a biomechanical engineer. Lucky for
you, Dr. Emory was visiting this facility when you got hurt.”

“Bio . . . what?” Ericca asked.

“I have several degrees in Biomechanics,” Emory said. “I’ve
developed synthetic materials that flesh attaches to readily. I can reconstruct
your arm and leg. In fact I can do it seamlessly. No one will ever know they’re
prosthetics.”

“Hmm, I guess I’m lucky you’re here.”

Emory raised a questioning smile. “There are issues of which
you should be made aware of though. Might we speak?”

“Sure.”

Penko’s attention bounced back and forth between them.
“Would you like me to leave?”

“No, not at all.”

“Yes. Quite.” Awkwardly, the doctor moved to the other side
of the bed to examine Ericca’s severed thigh.

Emory took a seat in the only available chair, and crossed
his legs at the knee. “I’ll reconstruct your shoulder and you thigh with
biomechanics, and those will be permanent. The attachments just below the
shoulder and up near your thigh will be removable.”

“In case either is damaged?”

“Goodness no. I doubt you can damage tyrillium.”

Ericca’s eyes widened, and Emory suddenly diverted his eye
in discomfort. Ericca wanted to smile, but she didn’t want to give herself
away, so she turned innocent eyes to the scientist. “Tyrillium? Is that
something new?”

“Um, yes, new. Of course. An alloy Jordon developed that has
unique properties well suited to my prosthetics. I’ll use that to construct the
underlying structural framework for your limbs.”

“Jordon developed?”

“We shared our research. I’m certain you’ll like what I give
you.

“I’m sure I will. But you said something about issues, and
that they’ll be detachable.”

“Yes. Um, detachable, yes. So I can modify and improve one
limb in the shop while you are using another. Once the work on the ‘
new-and-improved
’
is complete, swapping the one for the other will be a simple matter. You
understand. That’s a lot to take in, I know, but Dr. Penko and I’ll work
closely with you to make the transition quick and painless.”

“Quick? As in?”

“Three, maybe four months. And then after, as I improve the
technology, I’ll need you to back now and again to replace the old with the
new. I’m afraid we may be spending quite some time together.”

Ericca rubbed her eyes.

“I see you’re tired,” Emory said, rising, he patted Penko’s
shoulder as he headed toward the door.

“Yes. Quite.” Penko said. “We’d best let you rest, child.
Don’t worry. Things are well in hand. Yes, yes, well in hand, indeed.”

“Dr. Emory? I have a question.”

Saying his good byes, Penko left the room.

Emory turned to her.

“There’s a certain someone I’ve grown fond of. I don’t think
he’ll want me knowing I’m damaged goods.”

Emory took a moment before answering. “Does he love you?”

“Would you want a woman in my condition?”

“My dear Miss Archer, the question is, would a woman as
remarkable as you, want him? He had better be something special if you were to
even consider him worthy.”

Ericca shrugged. “Now, it may be too late.”

He stepped closer. “You’re a special woman, Miss Archer. If
he’s worth his salt, he’ll let you know how much he cares. If he doesn’t, then
he wasn’t worth keeping.”

“I’m damaged goods. Would you want someone in my condition?”

He raised a kind smile. “I already do.”

Mara and Rachel came into the room, passing Emory on his way
out. They exchanged a look, and Emory turned back only to offer Ericca a smile
and a wink before leaving.

Rachel closed the door behind her.

“What’s going on?” Ericca said.

“We’re sorry this happened, Ericca,” Race said. She patted a
place at the bed’s foot, and Ericca nodded. Rachel took a seat there as Mara
settled into the chair.

“It was all for the best,” Ericca said.

“Sure . . .” Rachel said solemnly. “It’ll all be
okay. We kicked butt out there, and Jordon is free. You’ll get a new arm and
leg and everything will turn to rights. You’ll see.”

“Jordon
is
free,” Ericca said with a smile. “I
couldn’t afford him if he weren’t.”

Rachel froze.

Mara rose and went to the window and peered out. “He’s free
of having to deal with Hammond’s kind. Thank God my husband had the good sense
to get us free of their kind; military mongrels before he died.”

“So, what brings you here?” Ericca said with an honest
smile.

“I was wrong about you.”

“What?” Rachel said, looking back at her.

“I said,” Mara turned around to face her, “I was wrong about
you, Ericca.”

Ericca’s eyes flicked from person to person. “I don’t
understand.”

“You had your gold,” Mara said. “You didn’t need to come
back.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” Rachel said. “Running away isn’t who you
are.”

Ericca felt confused. “What’s going on?”

“Tell her, Mom,” Rachel said flatly.

Mara dropped her eyes to her feet and muttered something.

“What?”

Shamefaced, she turned toward Ericca and sighed. “I said, it
was me. I talked Jordon into paying you off. I thought you’d take the money and
run. And then we’d be rid of you.”

Ericca’s nostrils flared. “What? You what?!”

“I’m sorry, Ericca. I was trying to get him to see.”

“See what, mother? Go on. Spit it out.”

“Never mind,” Ericca cut in. “All of that is behind us now.”

“Is it?”

“It can be,” Ericca said softly, “if we put it behind us.”

“Jordon is—”

“You need not say it,” Ericca cut her off.

Mara and Rachel exchanging a silent question between them.

“Jordon is the boy you met before Los Dabaron, Ericca. That’s
all I was going to say.”

“He recognized Riley and me when he first brought us aboard
Freefall
,
didn’t he?”

“He had been looking for you,” Mara said. “When he heard
Stan and Lilia were killed, he committed his every resource toward finding
you.” She looked at Ericca and Rachel, then turned away to the window, saying
no more.

“He made his fortune on his inventions, Ericca,” Rachel
said. “He was rich like you don’t know. We had no need to work, or haul
freight, or any of that. He took Dad’s old science vessel, and added his own
modifications to it.”

“What happened to your dad?” Ericca said softly. “You
needn’t answer if . . .”

“Our ship had been broken into. Dad came back to the ship,
found the men plundering her, and they killed him.” Her breath caught in her
throat. She swallowed back tears. “Jordon said we needed a security team, and—”

“We found you adrift, Ericca,” Mara interrupted.

“So Jordon decided to hire us?”

“No, that was Mom’s idea,” Rachel said. “She said finding
you two was providence.”

“But you hate me, Mrs. Kori. Why would you ask Jordon to
take me on as a crewmember?”

“I don’t hate you, Ericca. Lilia and I were best friends. Your
dad and Jordon Sr. were just as tight. What I didn’t like was your biting
sarcasm, your mouth, your constant criticism of my boy; a man who loved you
more than anything.”

“Wait! What? Are you saying—”

“Jordon didn’t just love you,” Rachel cut in. “He was
in
love with you. From the first day you met.”

She half chuckled her disbelief. “What? Two years ago he
fell in love with me? Uh huh. Sure he did.”

“Eleven years ago, actually.”

Ericca puzzled over that a moment. “I was nine. That was
. . . oh, I see. He was
that
kid?” At every port reliant
landed, Stan and Mara made friends. Kids were coming and going all the time. Ericca
remembered Jordon, a red-headed nervous kid, who bored her with his incessant
talk of gadgets. Ericca had tried to be nice, but the boy was clingy and completely
clueless. As an adult, Jordon had overcome many of his bad habits. He was still
somewhat clueless, and nervous, but he wasn’t all bad. In fact, near the end, Ericca
began to see he was actually kind of cute in a puppy dog way. She so wanted him
to relax, but then, she had little patience with all that plagued her own mind.

“Yes, Ericca. He was
that
kid. Jordon told me
privately that he’d never been able to get you out of his mind.”

Ericca looked at Mara, then dropped her eyes to her hand. “I
was awful to him, wasn’t I. Blast! I’m such an idiot.”

Mara pushed the chair closer then took a seat before taking Ericca’s
hand in hers. “No, child, you’re not an idiot. You’ve done the best you could
with what you had despite all your troubles. But I . . . I fell
short. Where my son was concerned, I was just a momma bear trying to protect
her cub.”

Ericca hesitated only for a moment, and then pulled Mara to
her to hug.

Six weeks later:

Ericca peeked under the sheet. Emory’s mechanical
attachments were melding perfectly with the skin there. When she lowered the
sheets and brought her head up, she still had to wipe moisture from her cheeks.
Pain and pills had ceased weeks ago. She knew severing her emotional attachment
to the missing limbs would be a difficult and slow process, but she was
determined. Severing her emotional attachment to Jordon Kori was a different
matter.

To get her mind off her losses, she studied Archer who sat
near her.

“I have some ideas about my new leg,” she said with a sly
smile.

Archer lifted his eyes from his book. “Yeah? Like what, sis?”

“Instead of a holster, I want a pistol hidden inside my leg.
The kind of thing where a door flips open and out pops a weapon.”

“That could work,” Archer said, “but why not go with both?
Aside from the one hidden in your leg, sling a gun on your left hip. You wear
that look well.”

Ericca lit up. “I like that.”

“Cool. Consider it done.”

She nodded. “Tell me. How long was I out?”

“Two weeks. Docs induced a coma to repair your arm and leg,
uh
,
terminates, he calls them.”

She patted her hip. “Now this, I’d like to look as real as
real can be. I want to look good in shorts.”

“Building a pistol case into your thigh for quick access and
make the seam invisible when closed will be tricky. But Dr. Emory says such
things are possible. You’ll already have access ports to adjust the internal,
uh
,
whatzits. He says those will be invisible, so why not go all the way? Gun and
all.”

“Good. If he can do it, I’d like that.”

“Whatever you want, sis.”

Her arm was gone. The damage there had been extensive. A new
chromed mechanical construct formed her shoulder and upper half of her arm,
terminating in mechanical connectors—levers, gears, and rods. “I have some
ideas about my arm as well.”

“Doc says once you get used to the mechanical limb, he can
give you a prosthetic that’ll look natural. And check this out; the metal
understructure he’s using is tyrillium.”

She looked up at him quizzically, and then gestured to the
fake arm lying on the chair next to him. “That’s tyrillium, like my knife?”

“This isn’t. But
he said your new limbs will be. They’ll be virtually indestructible.”

“I like that.”

Riley smiled.

She gestured to the metal arm. “I think I’d like it to look
just like that. Can’t that be done?”

He reached back and brought the artificial arm to her. “Like
this? You want your new arm to look like this? Seriously?” Barebones, the metal
arm was nothing to look at. Rods, gears, pistons, and pulleys, but little else.
Its titanium surface was a dull grey.

She took it from him to examine, and pondered it for a
moment. “What if I like this one’s look? Can he build it to lo look like this?”

“What? You mean instead of a realistic looking prosthesis,
you want grey metal?”

“Chromed, actually, and polished to a mirror finish. To me
that would look awesome. I think this sort of thing looks cool. Don’t you, Archer?
Picture me walking into a bar wearing this as a bit of bling? If that doesn’t
turn a few heads, nothing will.”

Befuddled, he looked at her, at the arm, then at her again.
“You serious?”

“Sure. Picture shiny, mirror-like shiny. This thing would be
sweet. It’ll make me look over-the-top tough, don’t you think? Can’t you just
see me backhanding some
grab-and-tickle
dillhole with this?” She swung it
as if it were a club. “Bam!”

Though she was indeed serious, Archer had to laugh. “I don’t
know what to say. The doctors tell me that this one lacks tactile sensors. It
won’t give you any feedback when you touch something.”

Her mouth was dry. She smacked her lips, cleared her throat,
and looked around for the jug.

Aware and attentive, Archer jumped to his feet, took a cup from
her nightstand, filled it with water, and handed it to her.

She took a sip, then considered him for a moment more. “Thank
you. I don’t understand what you mean by ‘feedback’.”

He set the pitcher down and retrieved the robot arm. “This—
all
of this
—is wired directly into your brain. The synthetic skin membrane
covering your new arm will be wired in as well. Baring pain of course, you’ll
be able to feel everything just as you would if these limbs were flesh and
blood.”

“Oh?”

“Better still, to the degree, you’ll be able to sense hot or
cold. You’ll know when someone brushes against you, touches you, or grabs your
arm. You’ll even be able to feel things others can’t. Pretty cool stuff,
really. Emory says if he were to sprinkle salt in your palm, blindfolded you’d
be able to tell exactly what its chemical makeup was. Dr. Penko says Dr. Emory’s
tech is light-years ahead of everyone else’s. In the field of biomechanics no
one else’s comes close. Penko tells me that getting nerves to reattach to
themselves is a bear, often impossible. Getting nerves and other tissue to bond
with metal used to be futuristic fantasy, but Emory seems to have beaten it.”

“Yes. I see. So . . . when I backhand some
jackanapes in a bar, I’ll feel that too?”

Archer laughed again. “I’m certain you will, but not as much
as he will.”

She turned it one way then the next, flexed its fingers,
elbow, and twisted and bent its wrist. “Still. I like the look of this one. Too
bad they can’t make one that feel things as well.”

He smiled. “You know? I’ll just bet one day Emory will be
able to do just that. Just give the man time. Maybe even someday soon.”

“Really? I hope so.”

He shrugged. “We can ask.”

Ericca’s face rose as one who tasted sweet victory. “I’d
like that, Archer. I’m curious though. Think anyone would ask out a girl with a
mechanical arm.”

“Sure they would. Wait! What?” He scowled. “What am I, a
potted plant?”

“You? You’d ask out a girl with . . .
prosthetics
?
With bio-whatzits?”

“
If
what had happened to you, happened to Darsea, and
she made the decisions you’re making, I would in a heartbeat. Trust me, sis,
there’s a guy out there just waiting for you to notice him.”

“Umm. I don’t know. I
am
getting on in years. A
little long in the tooth. I don’t know if a guy would want to date such an old woman.”

He chuckled. “You
are
mean to yourself, sister. Long
in the tooth, indeed. You’re only twenty-one. In what realm is that considered
old?”

Contented, she sighed. “My mechanical gizmos won’t put a guy
off.”

He smiled, and returned to his chair. “I happen to like
over-the-top
toughness
in a woman. Personally, I find it sexy. A lot of guys do.”

Archer’s eyes were bright and subtly cheerful. He had such a
handsome face—deep dimples when he smiled. His square, masculine jaw with its
end-of-day stubble made him look rugged, tough, and sexy. Darsea had a real
catch in snagging him. Ericca grinned playfully. “Kiss her yet?”

He blushed, but didn’t turn away.

“You want the milk, fella, you’ll have to buy the cow.”

“Oh, sis. I’ve wanted to buy the cow since the first day she
and I met.”

Ericca looked at him quizzically. “Since she was twelve? Really?”

“Come on now. I’ve always treated her with respect. I never
made any advances until we were of age. You know that. But you have to admit,
that even at twelve, Darsea was something to behold.” He frowned. “That sounded
better in my mind.”

She shook her head. “Got a thing for twelve-year-old girls,
huh?
Hmph!
”

“I’m going to stop talking now.”

She grinned and giggled. “I know, bro. I was just messin’
witcha.”