Suicide Mission: Unity War Book 2 Page 3
“Naw, I like bein’ alone.” Which wasn’t altogether true. He was used to being alone, but he didn’t always like it.
She faced him. “Don’t you miss your family?”
“Never had a family to miss.”
“Well, then, how were you made? Who raised you?”
Osirians generally knew the answers to those questions, and nobody else had ever asked him. He fidgeted a little, embarrassed by his differences, and tried unsuccessfully to look her in the eye. “They took donated sperm an’ eggs, an’ incubated ‘em, then raised us in a lab.”
“Who raised you, exactly?”
“Doctor Begbie, mostly.”
“The one we found. The one who died.”
He nodded, glanced away again.
“I’m sorry.”
“He was an asshole.”
She must have sensed he no longer wanted to talk about it, because she switched gears. “I miss my family. We’re all sorts of dysfunctional, but now that I hardly ever see them . . . ” She paused, and one corner of her mouth quirked up. “I’ve got a sister, Cameron. She’s three years younger than me, and she was such a brat when we were growing up . . . She still is, actually, but I miss her anyway.”
Fault couldn’t grasp missing someone who wasn’t even dead. The only one he missed was Adam, and he was more pissed off about that than sad.
“You served on board the Mare Cognitum before the Takarabune, right?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, isn’t there anybody over there you miss? Friends?”
“Never had any friends, either.”
“Oh.” Another pause, in which she nodded as if he’d explained something she’d been puzzling over. “Girlfriend?”
Was that interest he saw flash in her eyes? He couldn’t tell, because the instant he noticed it, she pretended a fascination for her boot laces. “Naw. I mean, there were women, but . . . I was never close with any of ‘em.” A lot of them had been one-night stands or brief affairs, but he’d had a couple of casual partners, too—none of them had wanted anything more from him than sex, and most of them had chosen him because he was a cyborg, and they were looking for something random and different.
“Hey!”
They both looked up to find Nuria headed their way, a dark expression on her face. They stood to meet her, and Jaden tried to calm her down. “Nuria. We were just—”
“What did I tell you about hanging around down here, mech?”
“We weren’t botherin’ anybody!”
“I don’t like people messing around down here!”
“We were just talkin’!”
“Look, mech.” Nuria jabbed a finger in his chest. “I’ve had just about enough of you.”
“Don’t. Touch me.”
“What’s the matter, mech?” She jabbed him again. “You don’t like that?” Jab. “Huh?” Jab, jab.
It was as if his mechanical parts moved without his forebrain telling them to. His left hand shot out and grabbed Nuria by the wrist, applying more pressure than it strictly needed to. She cried out, part surprise, part pain, and clutched at his fist with desperate fingers.
“Lemme go!”
The logical, self-preserving side of him told him to do as she said, but the meaner side of him, the side that had been holding in all that anger for so long, told him otherwise. He squeezed just a little harder.
“Fault!” Jaden put her hands on his cheeks, turned his head to face her. “Fault, listen to me. You’ve got to let her go.”
He trembled with indecision. Jaden’s eyes locked on his, calm, reassuring. Pleading. And he let go.
“Crazy mech!” Nuria said. “I oughta report you!” She backed away, holding her wrist, her face contorted, but Fault hardly noticed. Jaden’s hands were still on his cheeks, and he stared into her eyes, still shaking. He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid to.
“Fault, what is it? What’s wrong?”
The thought of telling anybody the tech side of him might be going haywire scared the hell out of him—but Jaden was different; something about her made him want to trust her. It didn’t hurt that he constantly fantasized about what she’d look like naked, or that he longed to know what her body would feel like underneath his, but it was more than that. She talked to him like he was a real person, and she made him feel as though he could talk to her, too. Only now that he had the chance, he didn’t know how to word it.
“I dunno,” he said. “I feel like I’m goin’ crazy or somethin’.”
“Maybe you should think about seeing the ship’s counsellor.”
A panicky feeling flared to life in his gut, and he almost jerked away from her. “God, no, I can’t do that! What if he thinks I really am crazy?”
She shook his head for him, bringing him back to the moment. “You’re not crazy, okay? But if you need help, if you need medication or other treatment, he can give it to you.”
“I dunno, Jaden . . . I mean, what if he tells the captain? What if he tells the captain, an’ she sends me away?”
“The captain would never send you away.”
“Yeah, she would. She’d have to. I mean, if my nanites are fucked, or if my interface is messed up or somethin’.”
“If you need help with that, I’m sure Captain Stephenson would bring an expert in. But if you’re worried, don’t be—Doctor Campos wouldn’t ever tell anyone what goes on in your sessions, not even the captain.”
“He wouldn’t?”
“Of course not.”
He thought about it. If it wasn’t his tech going haywire after all, maybe this Campos guy could help somehow. And if not, or if it was his tech, at least Campos wouldn’t tell anybody else.
He had to do something, or he was going to really hurt someone. He was still scared, but he didn’t think Jaden would lie to him, so he nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go.”
“It’ll be okay,” Jaden said, and hugged him.
He was still afraid to touch her.
* * *
“Faulkner. Come in. Have a seat.” Manuel Campos smiled at him, gestured to one of two plush chairs facing each other in front of a desk in the counsellor’s office.
Fault sat down, a bit taken aback by how comfortable the chair was, and unsure how to act. Decorated in soft blues and cream, the room didn’t follow the rest of a warship’s utilitarian décor, and it put Fault on edge.
“I’m Manuel,” the counsellor said, and sat across from Fault.
“Jaden said you were a doctor.”
“I’m a psychiatrist. But I find a lot of my patients are more comfortable with Manuel the Counsellor than they are with Doctor Campos.” He paused for a moment, then said, “What can I do for you, Faulkner?”
Fault shifted. “If I tell you what’s wrong, you won’t tell anybody else, right?”
“If I become convinced you’re going to hurt yourself or someone else, I may have to tell the captain. But otherwise, everything we say here is confidential.”
Fault didn’t want to end up in a rehabilitation facility, but he didn’t want to hurt anyone, either; if he really was about to snap, he guessed he’d want the captain to know so she could prevent any harm he might do. “Okay.” He shifted again, not knowing where to start. He’d rather talk to Jaden, who he at least knew, than a complete stranger. “Maybe this was a bad idea . . . ”
“We don’t have to talk about what’s troubling you.”
“Yeah, we do,” he said miserably. “ ‘Cause if I don’t tell somebody now, it might be too late.”
“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”
Fault squirmed, very nearly ran for the door, then took a breath and bolstered his courage. “I think maybe I’m gonna hurt someone.”
Campos’s face remained passive. “Anyone in particular?”
“I dunno. Everybody pisses me off. I’m like a land mine, an’ all anybody has to do is breathe wrong, an’ I go off.”
“Did something happen recently to make you angry?”
“Do you think it’s likely that your nanites are malfunctioning?”
“Well, yeah. It happens to almost all of us eventually.”
“ ‘Us’ meaning cyborgs.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, let me ask you this.” Campos leaned casually on one arm, as if he were chatting about the lack of originality in the ship’s menu rather than discussing something that might mean life or death to Fault. Oddly, it made him feel better, like his problems weren’t as big as he’d thought. “Who was Adam to you?”
“He was . . . just a guy. He was in the same squadron as me.”
“Did you know him well?”
“Better than some, I guess.”
“Was he your friend?”
He pulled a face. “Naw. I mean, Adam was the kind of guy who was friends with everybody else, though.”
“So you liked him.”
“Yeah,” he said. His throat had tightened up.
“Was that unusual for you—liking a member of your squadron?”
“They keep their distance, I keep mine.”
“I see. Well, Faulkner, I’d like to see you again, if that’s all right with you.”
“Shouldn’t you give me a test or somethin’, find out if my interface is screwin’ up?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have a test like that. But just to be on the safe side, I’d like to see you twice a week until you start to get things a bit more under control. In the meantime, I’ll evaluate you for signs of untoward aggression or other unsafe behavior, and prescribe medication as needed. How does that sound?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Great. I’ll set up another appointment for you.”
Fault still worried they’d have to deactivate him, or, worse, send him to a rehabilitation facility, but he tried to keep an open mind about Manuel. He’d turned out to be easy to talk to, at least, and he seemed to be considering other options. Fault hoped he was doing the right thing in going to him.
He supposed he’d find out soon enough.
CHAPTER FOUR
Outside the Nommos atmosphere
Evening had come, though on board a warship you couldn’t tell. The days and nights, the seasons, all remained the same: white, glittering starlight, far brighter than any the crew would see on planet, came in through the portholes, illuminating their path even when ship’s lights didn’t. You got used to a night sky, metal bulkheads, bunking with three other people, and having everything you wore look the same from one day to the next. You even got used to military food . . . sort of. Tonight they had eaten a frozen strawberry dessert at supper, the kind of thing Garner didn’t like because it tasted dull, not like real strawberries at all.
Ilana had liked it, though. It had been her favorite. She used to eat it slowly, with relish, and lick both her and Garner’s bowls clean. He’d taken to giving her his serving, enjoying the way her tongue ran over her spoon, caressing it. He even gave it to her when they were fighting, although that had usually worked against him. She was well aware of how she affected him. But he could never resist the chance to see that tongue in action.
He hadn’t had the heart to eat it himself tonight. He couldn’t stand to give it to anyone else, either, so he’d wasted it, thrown it in the garbage chute. Temple had clucked his tongue at him; An had been downright offended. Garner had gone to the Takarabune bar and had sat nursing his drink for over an hour. He had never drunk much, but the single drink a day allowed each crew member had suddenly seemed unfair, especially in light of the fact that the strongest thing on the menu was beer. In fact, it was the only thing the bar served, aside from snacks and soda water, although Garner knew for certain that some of the higher-ranking officers sometimes kept a bottle of wine or even whiskey in their quarters for special occasions. His sister had even procured a bottle of white rum once, the worst-tasting stuff he’d ever had, but it had at least taken the edge off. The edge and a good section of the cliff itself.
There remained a chance—a slim chance, but a chance—she still had some of that rum. He hoped to find Ness in her bunk, because she’d probably stashed the rum there. Also, he’d have better opportunity to talk to her alone there, instead of in a crowded rec room.
The hatch to her bunk was shut, so she was either out or wanted to be left alone. If she craved solitude, she’d be pissed at his intrusion. He hesitated. Ness in a pissy mood he didn’t need right now.
But he did need that rum.
He knocked. No answer, so he knocked again, louder this time, and got a surly, “Go away!” in response. It brought him back to when she was an angry fourteen-year-old locked in her room and he a bewildered twelve-year-old looking for companionship from the sister who had once protected and played with him.
“It’s Garner.”
Silence for so long that he thought she either hadn’t heard him or had decided to ignore him. Then the hatch opened. She stood leaning one forearm against the bulkhead, her hair in disarray. She wore only underwear, black unisex briefs and a grey tank top, and he could see her nipples. It made him squirm, and he felt the blood rush to his cheeks.
“What the hell do you want?”
“Are you alone?”
“I was.” She glared pointedly at him.
“Can we talk inside?” He gestured to her bunk.
“Why?”
Why the hell did she have to make everything so damn difficult? “Because I want privacy.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then turned on her heel and strode back into the room. She sat on her rack, indicating he take the chair nearest the bed. He sat, thinking he’d probably made a mistake in coming to her, that she was in a dark mood and unlikely to suffer his company long enough for him to coax her to give him the rum. If she even had any of it anymore.
“Do you still have any of that rum you gave us?” He found getting to the point always helped when dealing with Ness.
“Looking to forget?”
“Maybe.”
She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Booze is a temporary fix, Garner. You can’t forget forever.”
It irked him that she chose now of all times to act the big sister. “Do you have the rum or not?”
“I have a little.”
“Well, could I have some?” He was growing impatient. She ignored his tone, studied him a moment, then rose and reached for a fresh uniform and—to his utter embarrassment—a bra. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting dressed. You don’t think I’d be stupid enough to keep it in here, do you?”
He got up and fairly ran for the hatch.
“Coward. It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before.”
“I was four and you were six. I think it’s a little different now.” He darted out, closing the hatch behind him. He could hear her laughing.
When she emerged a minute later, she had combed her hair and put on a trace of make-up. It took away a bit of the weariness she’d exhibited earlier, but he could still see red in her eyes; she’d been crying, and recently. He supposed he’d interrupted that.
“I’m sorry about Jago,” he said. “I know he was your friend.”
Her lips thinned, and she went pale. “You don’t know shit.”
“I saw you laughing with him. You never laugh. Not like that. I’m sorry—” He found the words stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry that was taken away from you.”
Tears stood in her eyes, eyes as blue as his own, but cold. So damn cold. “Sympathy doesn’t get me anywhere. What I need is to kill the bastards that killed Jago.” She stopped suddenly, right in the middle of the corridor, and looked around. They were alone.
Ness withdrew a screwdriver from her pocket, knelt by an air vent, and unscrewed the grate. From within she took the white rum. She replaced the grate, looked around again, and poured a partial capful of the rum. Garner drank it, trying
without success not to taste it. She grinned at his discomfort.
He held the cap out to her. “Hit me again.”
She snatched the cap. “Uh-uh. No way. You want more, you gotta pay.”
“At the party, you were giving it away!”
“That was at the party. And just where do you think I’m going to get more of this stuff if I don’t make a little profit?”
He should have known. Ness had never been the sharing type. When they were kids, she wouldn’t even let him borrow her books, in spite of how well he cared for his own collection.
“I don’t have any money,” he said. He’d lost it all gambling with An last week.
“Maybe you have something else.”
“Like what?”
“You know my bunkmate, Agda?”
“Yeah . . .” He dreaded where this was going. Plump little Agda had dark, silky hair and large, dark eyes—quite pretty if you could get past a personality and wit as dull as stale toast.
Ness smiled. It was a mean, delighted smile. “Agda has something I want. She’ll give it to me on one condition.”
“Which is?” God, why did she have to drag it out?
“She’s always had a massive crush on you.” The smile turned meaner. “She thinks you’re sexy.”
“God! I’m not sleeping with someone for a taste of rum!”
“Who said anything about sleeping with her? Just go on a date. What you get up to afterwards is your business.”
God. “How long a date?”
“Three hours should do it.”
“Three hours!”
“I could make it four.” She waved the bottle of rum in the air.
He sighed. “How much rum?”
“Enough to make you forget.”
He thought about it, sorely tempted. “What’s to stop me just coming back here and stealing the rum?”
Her eyes narrowed, glittered. “You wouldn’t do that to your big sister, now, would you?”
“I might.”
She tucked the rum in her jacket pocket and seized him by the hair, yanking so hard that she pulled him off balance. “You won’t, though, will you? Will you?”
“Ow. No.”
“And you won’t tell anyone else where my stash is, either, will you?”