Outer Bounds: Fortune's Rising (52 page)

“That’s where most of them go
wrong.  They
pretend
to be like their instructors, doing all that
psychotic crap, thinking that they can change back, once training is over.  But
between the lack of sleep and the terror, it sinks in.”

“I don’t want to talk about
Nephyrs,” Magali growled, wiping the blood away from the thumb-sized device. 
“I need to concentrate and I hate Nephyrs.”

“Sorry,” the Nephyr said.  He
went quiet.

Magali tugged the two halves of
the capsule apart, exposing its innards.  The Nephyr flinched at the click, his
entire body going rigid.

Magali hesitated, eying the
battery cap.  “You know I could kill you, right?”

A pause. 

“Just fidget with it and leave it
to self-detonate.  You’d never know the difference.”

For a long moment, he stared at
the tile.  “Probably not,” he agreed softly.

“Now I’ve got it open, it’s gonna
explode in thirty seconds if I don’t disarm it,” Magali said.  Then, when he
said nothing, she added with a sneer, “Just pop off your glittering head, leave
it for your psychotic friends to find, next time they go looking for a colonist
to fuck, how would you like that?”

The Nephyr continued to stare at
the tiles.  “Now who’s playing mind-games?” he whispered.

Every muscle in Magali’s body
suddenly went stiff with shame.  She looked away.  It was true.  In all the
hours since he’d dragged her off the banks of the Snake, fed her, clothed her,
and given her a place to sleep, he hadn’t played a single mind game.  In the
long silence that followed, she watched blood well up around the lifeline. 
Then, reluctantly, she said, “Fine.  But you ever lie to me or try to screw with
my head, you’re dead.”

For a long moment, the Nephyr
just looked at the grout under his nose as the seconds ticked away.  Then, very
quiet, he said, “Sounds fair to me.”

She reached in with a screwdriver
and twisted the little black ball of the battery cap until it popped free. 
Then she grabbed the device with pliers and began, very slowly, easing the four
long wires out of the man’s spine and brainstem.  Once it was free, she threw
it aside, where it detonated against the bathtub.

For a long time afterwards, the
Nephyr continued to stare at the floor, unmoving.  Then, slowly, he unclasped
his hands, reached behind him, yanked the spreaders from his neck, and dropped
them to the floor.  Muscles bunching, he got to his feet with a smooth, eerie grace
as the glittering skin sealed along his spine.  When he turned to look at her,
Magali was stunned to see tears.  He turned to stare at the scorch-mark in the
porcelain bathtub for several long heartbeats as she huddled against the wall
in silence.  Then, without another word, he turned away from her and strode
from the room.  Magali jumped when she heard the outer door thump shut behind
him.

Magali let the drill slide from
her fingers, biting her lip.  What she had just done was…

…horrible. 
Evil.
 

She thought about that for
several minutes, watching the closed door, as tears came unbidden.  What had happened
to her?  Had she really changed that much?  That she would
taunt
a
helpless man? 

Never in the past would she even
have
considered
herself capable of what she had just done.  It was
loathsome.  Repulsive.  Disgusting.

She had to make it right.  She
had to explain… 

…But explain what?  That she had
changed?  That he looked like Steele?  Did that matter?  In some deep part of
her core, she had the odd realization that she could not stand the thought of
the Nephyr hating her.  And, even worse, she had the strong feeling that,
unless she found him quickly, he probably wasn’t coming back.

Anna wouldn’t have cared if he
never came back.  Anna would have taken his stuff and slipped off into the
slums to sell it so she could get on with her life.

Unsteadily, Magali got to her
feet, knowing she had to find him.  His belongings were scattered across the
bed and in duffels against the wall, but she had the feeling that wouldn’t
matter.  She felt a need to find him, to tell him, to
apologize
… 

She hesitated a few more minutes,
looking down at his abandoned possessions, then nervously grabbed the EMP wand
from the bed and stuffed it back into its slim metal tube before she tucked it
into her pocket and followed the Nephyr out of the room.  She had been wrong in
what she had done, but she had promised herself she was never going to be
caught off-guard again.  Never.

Killer,
Wideman giggled.

Shut the hell up, old man,
Magali thought back.

She wasn’t sure how she knew
where to find him, but Magali went outside, ignoring the hotel supervisor who
greeted her as ‘the Nephyr’s missus,’ and crossed the street to the little pub
where she knew the Nephyr waited.

Sure enough, the Nephyr sat in a
dark, abandoned corner of the bar, the rest of the patrons giving him a wide berth. 
Absolute silence had descended on the place, and most of the customers were
watching him with outright hostility.  He had a tall drink in front of him,
probably on the house.  He was slumped forward in silence, staring at it.  His
eyes flickered to her tiredly as she slid into the booth beside him, then went
back to his beer.

A long moment passed in silence,
neither of them speaking.  Magali watched a droplet of condensation slide down
the glass and puddle on the table.  Then, haltingly, Magali put the unmarked
EMP tube on the table in front of them, where he could see it, then slowly
pushed it across the table, out of her reach.  Heart pounding, she reached out
and touched his stony hand where it rested on his thigh.  When he didn’t jerk
it away, just glanced down at where their skin touched, she curled her fingers
around his and gave a gentle tug.

Looking up at her in confusion, Jersey
allowed her to pull his arm around her in an awkward embrace.  Magali levered
his arm over her shoulder, then forced herself to stay there, fighting down the
carnal urge to bolt at the glass-hard feel of his body against hers.  It was
the only apology she could think of, and it had been delivered to her, not an
hour before.

After a moment of watching her
face, the Nephyr’s arm tightened around her, locking her in his grip, cinching
her to the side of his big body with the hydraulic power of a machine.  Magali
felt a spasm of panic and her breath caught, her heart hammering like bullets
against her ribs, but she viciously forced herself not to shiver.  After a
moment, Jersey turned back to look at the beer.  Once she managed to convince
herself he wasn’t going to simply tighten his arm and crush all of her ribs,
spine, and scapulas, Magali followed his gaze.

Together, they watched the
condensation form on the outside of his glass, listening as the other patrons
of the bar spoke in hushed tones or got up to leave.  After what seemed like an
eternity, Magali slowly began to relax in his grip.

“My skin’s in storage in the
Inner Bounds,” Jersey eventually said to the glass.

…Which meant, now that he’d
removed his lifeline, he would never get it back.

“I’m sorry,” Magali whispered.

He just frowned and gave a slight
shake of his head, eyes still on the water droplets.  “It was my fault.  I
should’ve waited.  Served out my term and just gone back and gotten
discharged.  I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I needed out.  I was starting to
break.  I could feel it.”  He took a deep breath, then let it out very slowly. 
“The Forty-Third is…” his voice cracked and he trailed off.

He stared at the glass and was
still for so long that Magali started to wonder if he would continue.  Finally,
he said, “They made me do things…”  He trailed off in a whisper and,
swallowing, he closed his eyes.

“You had to.”

Jersey flinched and Magali caught
a glimpse of agony before he turned his face away from her.  For a moment, he
just sat there in silence, not looking at her.  “Things like what happened to
you,” he finally told the tabletop.

Magali felt her body stiffen,
felt the bile at the back of her throat as she again felt the urge to scrabble
out of his inhuman grip, but she forced herself to not cringe away from him. 
“You had to,” she whispered again, stronger than she felt.

“No I didn’t,” he said, with vehemence. 
“I was a coward.  I could’ve let them kill me.”

She digested that a moment.  “If
you had let them kill you,” Magali finally said, “we wouldn’t have been able to
save each other.”

He glanced at her briefly before
he turned back to the beer and was silent for a long moment.  He took an
unsteady breath, and his voice seemed to quaver.  “I’ve been struggling for
weeks and I almost lost it today.  I never thought a colonist…”  He swallowed
and started scratching his artificial fingernail into the wooden tabletop. 
“Let my guard down.  Just assumed you’d…”  His voice again started to crumble. 
“…want to help me.”

Again, Magali fought a sickly
flood of shame.  “You don’t have to keep your guard around me,” she promised. 
“I won’t do it again.”

She heard an explosive sound
escape him, almost a wail, and the Nephyr hung his head, touching his
glass-hard brow to the table beside his hand.  She felt his body start to
shake. 

After a few minutes, Jersey
glanced at her, tears once again wetting his eyes.  “Can I call you Mag?” 
There was so much yearning in that single sentence, such
need
…

Seeing the bare sincerity, there,
knowing that there was no way to fake such genuine
anguish
, she forced
out, “Sure.”

“Can I…stay…with you for awhile,
Mag?” he said softly, raw, wretched hope straining his face.  Then, quickly, he
added, “Just as friends.  I won’t hurt you.  I’ll keep my distance unless you
tell me.  I just need some…time…with a real person.”

Magali had never considered
spending any more time with the Nephyr than necessary, and every ounce of her
being stiffened at the thought.  He
looked
genuine, but… 
What if he
changes his mind?
she thought, anxiety spilling acid into her system.  Anna
changed her mind.  All the time.  Whenever it suited her.

He judged her reaction correctly,
and agony tore at his face.  “
Please
,” he whispered.  “I’m so tired of
being…”  He swallowed and looked up at the empty bar.

Alone,
Magali thought,
following his gaze.  Everyone was gone, even the barkeep.  The entire place was
silent.  She swallowed, imagining the solitude in being so despised.  “You can
stay,” she said softly.  It was all she
could
say. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.  It
came out as a moan.  “Thank you so much.”  He ducked his forehead into the crux
of her shoulder and started to sob, and Magali realized, for the first time,
that this creature had been broken a thousand times more cruelly than she ever
had been.  She put her hand around his inhumanly hard fingers and squeezed.

* * *

“I love all the exposure this is
getting,” Anna said, stuffing another potato chip into her mouth as she watched
the three-day dogfight over the Tear.  “I mean, it’s kinda hard for them to
hide there’s a Rebellion now. 
Look
at it.  They’ve thrown like, what,
forty soldiers at that TAG alone?”

“The tipoff to the media was a
brilliant move on your part, Anna,” Doberman said.

“Of course it was,” Anna replied,
eating another potato-chip.  “What’s important, now, is that people
know
. 
It’s no longer something whispered about in dark alleys and in the back corners
of bars.  People
know
.  They’re gonna be talking about it.  Discussing
it.  Wondering.  Planning.”

“The seeds have been planted, it
would seem,” Doberman replied.

“I hope that TAG pilot survives,”
Anna said, thoughtfully crunching another chip.  “I’d like to meet him.”

“I doubt the sentiment is
mutual,” Doberman said.

Anna laughed.  “Are you still
upset about what I did to that operator brat?”

“I did find it unnecessarily
brutal,” Doberman replied.

Anna snorted and waved a
dismissive hand.  “We needed her to scream.”  She ate another chip, returning
her attention to the screen.  “I made her scream.”

She was glued to the firefight
for three more hours, until the last operator spun back to earth in a powerful
explosion, with only Captain Eyre and the TAG pilot still in the sky.

Anna grinned.  “Oh good.  They
won.  That’ll look
great
on the news.”

Then Captain Eyre’s ship hurtled
out of the clouds to make a sudden, rough landing in the jungle at the tip of
the Tear.  Anna frowned and sat up, learning forward.  “I’ll be damned,” Anna said,
as if she could not believe it.  “She’s stupider than I thought.” 

“She does have a history of
mental trauma concerning enclosed spaces,” Dobie replied.  “And, more recently,
sociopathic little girls with surgical implements, if I am to guess.”

Anna snickered.  “Not for long.” 
She grabbed the ovular little device from where Doberman had left it on her
dresser.

“Don’t you think that’s a little
extreme?” Doberman asked.

Anna snorted and pressed the pink
button.  “I
told
her to stay away from Milar.”  Then, yawning, she
tossed the device into the trash.  “Never really intended to let her live,
anyway.”  Finishing out the chips and crumpling the bag into a wad, she tossed
it in after the device.  Then she glanced up at him, catching his stare.  “Oh,
I’m sorry, did that just disturb you, Dobie?” she jeered.

“I find myself less disturbed
than one might expect,” Doberman replied.

Anna snorted.  “Little twit had
it coming.  She was
way
outta her league with him.  And even an idiot
could see he was obsessed with those pictures, but nobody was willing to do
anything about it.”  She took a chug of bottled water and tipped it at him.  “So
I did something about it.”  Then she cocked her head in a frown.  “She did good
with the soldiers, though.  I
thought
we might be able to get one last
use out of her, before we got rid of her.”