2. Junelle Station

“Uh— More tests? We just got back from Ethos, and I’m behind—” Nash frowned as he was cut off. Fuck. He listened as Doctor Kruvic’s chief assistant, Doctor Blake Huri, outlined the following day’s schedule. Bastard. You’re just doing this because Vivienne isn’t here. “Yes, sir. Zero-seven hundred. I’ll be there.” Nash closed the connection and put his digipad away. I should just start sleeping in the lab; I’m never at work anymore.

He stretched and was promptly reminded as to why it was a bad idea; every joint in his body hurt. Unforeseen side-effects of the aversion therapy. He grunted as he remembered how quick the experts at Ethos had been to dismiss his discomfort. Here, have some pills and stop doing anything physical. Nash caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink. His clothes hung loosely, emphasizing how much muscle mass he’d lost in the last two years. Who knew so much of me was powered by aggression? Nash pulled a bottle of beer out from the desk drawer and snorted, remembering he wasn’t allowed to drink before tests. Fuck. He put it back and slammed the drawer shut. All he wanted to do was relax and lie down, but now he was too angry to sleep. He felt his stomach churn as his brief bout of temper triggered a reaction.

Calm down, or you’ll make yourself sick again, the Kind voice whispered.

Nash fell into his chair and fumbled in his breast pocket for his cigarettes. He needed to vent to someone who cared. Doctor Kruvic had stayed at Ethos and wasn’t due back for another week. Nash lit up and inhaled deeply, enjoying the rush of nicotine as it hit his system. He took another drag, then powered up his old hard-link system and waited for it to boot.

Evan, please be online. Nash’s fingers blurred as he typed the password sequence that let him enter his secret online haven, the BBS. A single line of text appeared on the screen.

C01: Welcome back, N01. You have been gone for 2 weeks, 4 hours and 17 minutes.

N01: Good evening, Control. Is E01 online?

Nash scrolled through the new posts on the forum while he waited for a response. The only thing new was in requests, and he quickly checked the files that had been left for him to sort and repair. Four new directories, two encrypted. All of them in a dead language.

An alert flashed at the bottom of the screen.

C01: E01 has been offline for 4 days, 19 hours and 47 minutes. E02 is online now. Would you like me to query his availability?

Damn. Nash frowned as he considered bothering Ed with his problems. He decided against it. His real bond was with Evan. They were kindred spirits despite the twenty-year difference in their ages. No one used their real names on the BBS, it was a matter of security given the tensions between Korlune and Ankoresh. Nash had broken the unspoken rule and traced everyone, to prove that he could and to feel more connected to the group. He’d discovered that E01 and E02 were Chief Field Tech Evan Stannic and his partner, Chief Weapons Mech Ed Olivier. Both men were famous in Ankoresh. Too bad the borders are still closed, I’d love to meet you two in person. Nash knew it was impossible at this point. He stared at the screen, lost in a thousand what-ifs. The message flashed once to remind him that it was still on the screen. Even though it was an AI, Nash didn’t like not answering it.

N01: No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you, Control. Goodnight.

C01: Goodnight, N01.

Nash flagged himself as busy and attempted to lose himself in work, but nothing he found could draw his full attention. His body ached relentlessly. He finished his cigarette and lit a new one.

Something scurried across the floor in his peripheral vision. Reflex made him kick the sonic emitter under his desk, and he watched the tiny silver-colored rodent dart back the way it came. Silverii. Where there’s one, there’s ten. He shuddered as it squeezed its way under the door and disappeared. Not only were they thieves, stealing shiny things for their nests, but they were omnivores. He vividly remembered the stories his sister used to tell him about what the tiny creatures could do to a person in the dark. Nash stood, crossed the room, and came to a halt in front of the bank of lockers that served as his closet. He opened the one closest to the door. Traps, traps, traps... Aha! He found the box they were supposed to be in and sighed when it proved to be empty.

Another silverii darted from behind the lockers and under the door.

Time to start sleeping with the lights on. Nash returned to his desk, to find a message waiting for him from Ed.

E02: I was wondering if you’d started with the files yet?”

N01: Just. I’m not very far along. They’re in Tyr, and I’m still figuring out some of the intricacies of the language.

Nash hit enter and went to get himself a coffee. He returned and found another text. He took a sip, then began to read.

E02: We have a security problem. E01 was picked up by security forces 4 days ago. C01 has confirmed that there have been no new entries using his permissions. There haven’t been any new people join in that time either, so we’re ok right now, but the BBS may be compromised. If so, we’ll have to shutdown for a while.

Nash coughed as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. He almost dropped the mug as he set it down. His fingers found the keyboard, and his first concern poured through them onto the screen.

N01: Why did they take Evan? Were there specific charges? As he typed the last question mark, he realized what he’d divulged. Crap! I’m not supposed to know who they are. Nash waited, each second growing longer than the last. He broke.

N01: Are you going to ban me? He was spared any further torture.

E02: Ha! I knew it. No. We won’t ban you; you just won me a bet, Nash. As far as charges go, I have no idea - nothing’s been announced. The last time Ankoresh Internal Security pulled him in was 10 years ago – Gods know what they’ve stuck in their files since then.

N01: Is there anything I can do?

E02: Yes. I have just the project for you. I should warn you, though, it poses some personal risk.

Nash leaned forward and watched as a new folder was added to his short list. He checked the contents quickly then downloaded them to his personal hard-link system. He opened the folder marked with the number one. First assignment: create data evidence for a series of massive solar flares and then for the electromagnetic storm that follows it. Nash opened the files marked solar phenomenon and scanned the contents.

N01: I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to do. How do massive plasma ejections and solar prominences help Evan?

E02: You’re probably too young to remember, but the files I sent you relate to a storm we had about 15 years ago. The electromagnetic radiation they generated played havoc with hardware on both sides of the border. I need a plausible explanation for why digi-link systems will be interrupted, and why some will fry. I can get what I need in place to disrupt the necessary networks across Ankoresh, but a rogue EMP is a suspicious thing – I don’t want them to automatically think to look for me and my flat-deck. Any hard evidence against Evan should be in the Ankoresh Internal Security Archives. I need you to go in and make sure his file is destroyed. Once you’re done, the EMP will cover your tracks.

N01: Ankoresh still uses hard-link technology in their observatories – someone there is going to note the lack of storm, regardless of the data stream prior to the event.

E02: Unlikely. Professor Runic has had all our telescopes trained on Hybor and the asteroid belt for the last two years. He’s close to proving that Hybor was once Tamyrh’s second moon. Trust me; no one in Ankoresh is looking at the sun. The EMP damage will be convincing enough. Korlune has more observatories – are they all digi-link now?

N01: I think so, but I’d have to check to be sure. I know they’re all connected to the master observatory just outside Merrow Cluster so I can access them through the hub. Hopefully, I can find a way to take them all off-line during this event and simulate the effect of the EM radiation.

E02: Are you okay with this?

N01: Yes. I’ve never done anything like this before, but I’ll do my best.

E02: I know you will. The fact that you’re willing to even try means a lot, Nash. Thanks.

N01: Would you like me to damage a few other things while I’m in? It would look less suspicious if more files were corrupted or entirely wiped.

E02: You’re right. Hit the Mount Solomon Observatory archives – old Amsel keeps hard-copy backups so he won’t be hurt by it. You could also wipe the Korsari Engineers file; I downloaded it to our central network last week.

N01: Does AIS keep a backup off-site?

E02: They upgraded everything to digi-link about ten years ago, backup included.

Nash sat back and opened the next file. No, this can’t be right.

N01: Per your info, all their field offices tie directly into this one hub, and their backups can be found on the same network? That’s insane. They’ve got to keep hard-link records or hard-copies somewhere.

E02: They do. I’ve already got someone dealing with that part of the problem.

N01: How much time do we have?

E02: Three days. I’ll be in position in two. Can you, do it?

N01: You’ll have your storm in three days.

Nash logged off, butted out his cigarette and went straight to work.

*

Silence. Nash stared off into space, admiring the stars before he turned his attention to the task at hand. Floating... Adjust the mass, it’s off. Nash reached out into the expanse and the equations transformed from thought into matter. Plumes of flame erupted from the surface of the sun, dancing around him before arcing out into the black. There was no hot, no cold, and the lack of sound was profoundly peaceful. He directed the flow like a conductor and watched as the waves of energy rippled out into the universe. Nash calculated the disturbance the solar wind shock wave would generate in the magnetosphere when it hit and added the number into his digipad. Perfect. He stared at the small screen as the symbols faded into nothingness. What the hell? A high-pitched beeping sound grew louder, shattering the stillness. Nash felt himself falling backward, and terror gripped him. I’m going to die. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring at the ceiling. When did I go to bed? Damn dream. Who the hell would page me this early? He grabbed his digipad and turned off the alert, then looked at the message.

“Dr. Blake Huri - RE: Your appointment at 07:30.”

Nash looked at the time-stamp. That can’t be right. Zero-nine hundred – Shit! He rolled out of bed, grabbed his glasses and pulled on a pair of jeans. The black t-shirt draped across the back of his chair was next, followed by his lab coat. Where the hell are my shoes? Nash remembered putting them under his desk. He hopped across the room as he pulled them on. Damn. Forgot the socks. Nash spotted a pair under his cot and knelt to retrieve them. The second one twitched and suddenly sprouted a tail. Silverii. He pulled his hand back before the tiny rodent could bite him. He dug a pair out of his laundry bag and sat at his desk while he put them on.

They believe you’ve been sick. Take a deep breath. They’re not going to care if you’re late, the Kind voice assured him.

Nash chuckled at its naiveté. Ha! I’ve held them up for three days. I’m willing to bet that Blake is going to be a complete prick about it. He locked his door and sprinted down the corridor in the direction of the Rec-Gen labs, remembering to duck under a low archway as he rounded the corner. Bless you, endorphins. He tuned out the pain and rode the high for as long as he could. The kilometer of corridor went by quickly. Can’t keep this pace up. Nash slowed to a jog as adrenaline-induced nausea threatened to make him sick. Evan’s home. The BBS is safe. Relax. He smiled, reflecting on how well things had gone.

It’s over, and no one’s the wiser, the Kind voice congratulated him.

I hope so. Nash answered as he pressed the call button for the elevator. He jumped as someone tapped him on the shoulder and spun to see who it was.

“Sorry, Nash, I thought you heard me,” the short, black-haired man moved to stand next to him.

“Hey, Kalish. When did you get back?”

“Yesterday. I hate topside recoveries; it takes a week in the shower for your skin to stop itching,” Kalish paused. “Something’s different. Wait, you’re growing a goatee?” He winked mischievously. “Sexy. It suits you.”

Nash ran his hand over his chin and realized he hadn’t shaved for close to five days. “I wish I could say it was a deliberate attempt at style,” he peered into the polished metal doors trying to see himself. “You think I should let it go?”

“Yes. If Ebo could grow facial hair, I would cultivate one.” Kalish rubbed his hand over his smooth, dark skin. “I’ll have to live vicariously through you.”

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside.

“Are we ever going to see you in the Mech-Bay again? I miss having decent stuff to build, and I miss you too.”

“Thanks, I miss it all as well.” Nash leaned back against the wall as the doors closed. “Press sixty-one for me, will you?”

“Sixty-one? Wow, they’re calling you up to the Gods these days.” Kalish punched the buttons for their respective floors.

“Not quite, but I’ve got a God’s view. The area I report to is on the East side of the tower, and you can see over the top of the hydroponics dome. The plains North of us are in full bloom right now; it’s a sea of red, orange and green out there. Spring’s a month early, and the transports are kicking up a ton of pollen as they come in on final approach— Well, you were just out there; you know the situation.”

“It was gross; I’m still itchy.” Kalish paused then whispered, “Can you see the Seep from up there?”

“It’s a long way off. Most days you can see the mountains around the Evora basin, but it takes a clear day to see anything of the jungle. It’s like a thin, green ribbon at the base of the blue.” Nash shuddered, as he remembered his time at Farlen Station. I could see the trees from the Mech-Bay.

They both looked up as the electronic voice announced the floor level.

The elevator doors slid open, and Nash peered across the hall into the facing office. “No bio-hazard symbols, no Med-Techs in scrubs. I’d almost forgotten what normal looks like.”

“Take care, Nash. Next time you’re in the Mech-Bay, find me, and I’ll buy you a beer.” Kalish stepped out into the hall, and the doors slid closed behind him.

Nash settled back against the wall, looked up at the camera and waved. “Hello.”

The elevator stopped. “Sixty-one. Recombinant Genetics Labs. Please have your ID ready.” The doors slid open.

Nash stepped out into the reception area and held up his ID. “Korpes, Nash X., ID W-D-T Nine-Four-Two.”

The receptionist looked up at him. “You’re wanted in exam room four, Tech Korpes.”

“Ma’am.” Room four? Damn. Nash shuddered as he remembered his last session there.

Fifty-foot needles, the Sarcastic voice, teased him.

Shut up, Nash pushed the voice aside. He knocked twice on the door and then entered.

“Ah, Tech Korpes. I’ll be with you in a minute. Feeling better, I trust?” Doctor Blake Huri didn’t look up from his digipad. Something on the small screen flashed, and Blake set the device down on the table in front of him. He scrutinized Nash quietly for a moment. “You look awful.”

“Yes, sir. I apologize for not taking the time to shave. I was running—”

Blake waved his hand. “It’s not important. Sit down.”

Nash sat on the nearest stool and waited to find out why Doctor Kruvic’s chief assistant was so cordial. His eyes flicked to the digipad in front of Blake.

“What I have to tell you is going to come as a massive shock, but I think you need to know.”

The corner of Nash’s mouth curled up into a half-smile. “You’ve discovered I’m a Tyran throwback?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “Sorry, that was disrespectful. Forgive me.”

Blake pursed his lips. “I don’t like you either, Korpes. Let’s just put that aside for now. Doctor Kruvic gets back in three days, and it doesn’t leave much time.” He faltered as he looked for a way to explain himself.

“Time for what?”

“You’ve been lied to. There is something that can be done about your pain. It appears that the last year and a half has been a test of some sort.”

Nash’s eyebrows shot up. “A test? Explain.” His stomach began to knot.

“I couldn’t find much associated with it. All I had to go on was what was mentioned in a memo I accidentally read.”

“Accidentally?” Nash’s gaze flitted to each of the cameras in the room, but none were active. He turned his attention back to the Med-Tech. “How?”

Blake glared at him. “I’ve almost finished my internship, and they’ll be transferring me somewhere else to complete my doctorate. I knew KMR and D would send Vivienne a notification, and I wanted to know where.”

“So, you hacked into the hub and read her mail?” Nash started to laugh.

Blake flushed. “You really are a jerk, Korpes.”

“I’m not laughing at you. I’ve misjudged you, sir. You stated earlier that you couldn’t find any files associated with this memo? That tells me that you went hunting.”

“I like to be thorough.”

“A question if I may: if there were no files, how do you know something can be done for me?”

Blake grinned in a smug way. “Simple. I came up with the ‘something’. It wasn’t particularly difficult once I looked at all the data we’ve collected on you. Initially, I thought the joint pain and reaction to adrenaline was a psychosomatic aspect of the aversion therapy. I was wrong, it’s not. I’m sorry for not having believed your pain was genuine.”

Nash frowned. “Thanks. So, what’s this all about?”

“It appears to be some sort of test of Tyran regenerative abilities.”

“Not that I don’t trust you, but may I see this memo?”

Blake pointed at a laptop behind him. “I assumed you’d ask.”

Nash stood, then crossed the room. He scanned it, committing the entire piece to memory. Blah, blah, formalities. References extending the study, based on current information, cites genetic markers, referencing the sixth, seeing if regen will be consistent through repeated injury, as it... has in the past? What? When? ‘Continue to withhold treatments for discomfort, may further stimulate— Who the fuck sent this? Nash’s eyes flicked to the bottom, looking for the transit numbers. Special Projects; sent from Nekkaro Station. Classified. This is addressed to Vivienne, but those aren’t her ID tags. I can’t believe she knows about this. His eyes darted to the top of the memo. Dated five days ago. He filed away the numbers for future reference and looked up at Blake.

“Well?”

“You don’t like me. Why help me?”

“Two reasons. First, according to the file, you were put through aversion therapy to make you more manageable. There are drugs that would have accomplished the same results without torturing you. Second, you’re not an ‘Official Subject’. What’s been done to you falls under the heading of egregious medical malpractice. By being associated with this project, I’m complicit. Liking you is irrelevant. This is about giving a patient the best care I can and upholding the oath I swore when I became a doctor.”

Silence settled between them as Nash pondered the facts. Life without pain. “When can we start?”

“Today, but I need to resolve a couple of issues first.”

Nash frowned. “I suppose these ‘issues’ include things you need me to do?”

“Yes. You being kept like this is part of a much larger project and, if I’m discovered to have overtly interfered with you, I risk my future in the Special Projects Division.” Blake held up his hand indicating that Nash should wait. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell you this to wind you up. I’ll treat you, but you must help me cover my tracks. I know you have the skills for it. I’d like you to erase any traces that I was in the hub, or that I read any of Doctor Kruvic’s mail.”

“Done.”

Are you really going to trust him? The Sarcastic voice asked.

I don’t want to be like this for the rest of my life.

Fool. The Darkness laughed.

Fuck off. Nash tuned them out.

“There’s something more.”

Of course there is, the Darkness hissed.

“And what would that be?” Nash raised an eyebrow.

“Never tell anyone that I had a hand in your recovery.” Blake pointed at a laptop. “Start now and I’ll prep stage one.”

*

“I’ve moved what I need to the old Med-Bay in hydroponics. We won’t be disturbed there. Do you require more time?” Blake checked his watch noting that it was afternoon.

“I’m done. You were never in Doctor Kruvic’s personal files, nor were you in the hub.” Nash grinned broadly as he extracted himself from the network. He stood and stretched. “What now?”

“I have a few details I need to recheck. There’s no need for you to wait. Meet me there in an hour.”

Nash paused and then decided not to comment. “An hour then.” He left the room and made his way back toward the elevator.

“Tech Korpes? This came for you.” The receptionist handed him a data stick, emblazoned with the Pairing Protocol seal.

Oh, great. Another interview. “Thank you, ma’am. When is, it scheduled for?”

Now you have something to read while you’re waiting for Blake.

Shut up. Nash tuned the Sarcastic voice out and waited for her to look it up.

“Monday, eighteen-hundred. They’ve booked you into an interview room on... Oh! You’re in the room on level three. Isn’t that near the hangar?” She looked up at him sympathetically. “That isn’t very romantic.”

“It never is. Thank you, ma’am,” he turned and entered the elevator as the doors slid open. His hand ran over his face and encountered the stubble.

Shower, shave, then meet Blake.

Keep the goatee, it suits you, the Kind voice commented.

Nash smiled at his reflection. It’s not against regs.

What if Blake’s lying? What if he makes you worse?

Nash tried to tune the voice out, but they’d touched on a genuine fear. What if he isn’t? What if he can help me?

He hates you.

What about the memo? I confirmed the tags and I—

Forgery... He’s being transferred to Nekkaro. This is his last chance to fuck with you, the Sarcastic voice laughed.

No, this isn’t his style. He can help me. I checked his notes. His concept is sound. He—

He came up with a treatment in three days. How good can it be?

Nash could feel his stomach begin to churn as his anxiety rose.

What is your evidence? The Darkness demanded.

Nash exited the elevator. My gut. I want to believe.

Then you’re a fool.

*

“Mind if I smoke?” Nash asked as he reached for his cigarettes.

“Yes. Take off your coat.” Blake moved the IV stand closer to the exam table Nash was sitting on and began to unwind the hose line.

Nash eyed the opaque supply bag that hung from it. There was no label. “What’s in the bag, Doctor Huri?”

“Zelat, cut with a basic saline solution. I’ll introduce Vecuronium to the feed when it’s time to put you under.” Blake checked the pump then turned to face his patient.

“Zelat?!

“It’s the only option. Your metabolism will be working against me during this procedure. I needed something that would hit you hard and keep you under for at least six hours. Stage two is where I sever a small number of neurons running to your colys gland—”

Nash balked. “Wait a minute. That wasn’t in your notes. You only mentioned a non-invasive treatment on my amygdala,” his eyes strayed to the door, as he considered his options.

Run.

“The colys gland is responsible for your healing ability, if I don’t deal with it, you won’t be pain-free while you heal.” He followed Nash’s gaze to the door and understood. “I spent the last hour confirming my findings. I have the results right here if you want to check them.” He handed his digipad over. “It sounds worse than it is.” Blake adjusted the settings on the overhead neural scanner. “Stage three involves me working on your amygdala; I can’t undo the psychological aspects of the aversion therapy, but I know I can undo the physical modifications they made and make it look natural. You’ll still have to avoid things that cause a large adrenal response, but routine exercise and your usual fits of temper shouldn’t trigger you anymore.”

Nash scanned all the files and committed them to memory.

“Have you changed your mind?”

Yes. After a minute, Nash shook his head. He gave Blake the digipad back.

“Lie down and give me your arm.”

Nash complied but looked away. Fifty-foot needles— Think of something else. “So, are you happy with where they’re sending you?”

“Nekkaro Station is one of KMR and D’s finest genetic research facilities. It’s actually better than I’d hoped for. Hold still.”

Nash inhaled sharply as the needle slid beneath his skin. “You need to work on your technique.”

“I didn’t train for ten years to become a phlebotomist.” Blake taped the hose down and then turned the nozzle on. “Let me know when you feel an effect.”

*

Blake checked the levels on the bag and frowned. “Are you sure you’re not feeling anything yet?”

“No, but you know a lot of things don’t work on me. Maybe Zelat is one of those things?”

Blake turned the drip up. “It works on everyone. No exceptions. I’ll come back in five minutes.”

Nash closed his eyes. Please let this day be over. He let his attention drift and remembered his dream. I wonder if that’s what space is like? He allowed himself to re-experience what he could recall, focusing on the last part to take the fear out of it. Falling or re-entry. It’s all a matter of perspective and control. He felt something move across him, wrapping him in a comforting embrace. A smug sense of achievement spread through him as he reflected on what he and Ed had accomplished. I wonder if it’ll make the newsfeed here?

“Tech Korpes? Can you hear me?”

A tingling sensation on his arm brought him back to the present. There was no pain, and warmth emanated from his chest. This. Is. Great. It had been so long since he’d felt good. Nash giggled out loud as the voices chimed in with gibberish. You’re all stoned too! Ha.

“I take it you’re feeling something?”

“Yep.” He attempted to sit up and found he couldn’t. “I seem to be paralyzed.”

Blake drew into view. “I’ve strapped you down. Try moving your left arm, it’s still free.”

Nash watched with amusement as his hand seemed to levitate, pulling his arm up off the bed like a string behind it. “While you’re up there, wave,” he called out to it. His hand twitched, and then his arm dropped to his side. Good enough. “I’m feeling— Yeah, stoned Doc. Feeling, I am.”

“I hope so; you’re burning through this a lot faster than I anticipated. We need to begin now.” Blake connected a second bag to the hose and turned the valve. “Start counting backward from one hundred.”

“One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven— Forty-Six, forty-five, veno-fores, veno-tanye,” Nash switched over to his native Diasporan slang and started to laugh.

Blake adjusted the valve for the Vecuronium, and Nash’s world went black.

*

“Tech Korpes, wake up. I need you to open your eyes for me.” Blake checked Nash’s vitals a second time. Damn you, now is not the time to catch up on your sleep. His digipad beeped, but he ignored it. Yes, I know you’re back. “Nash! Wake up.” Blake slapped him in frustration.

“Ow.”

“Wake up. Vivienne— Doctor Kruvic’s back early, and she’s called an emergency meeting. I have to go.” His statement was punctuated by another beep from his digipad. “She’s been paging me for the last twenty minutes. C’mon, I need you to open your eyes so I can verify you’re okay.”

Nash opened his eyes and squinted at him. “My glasses handy?”

Blake handed them to him. “You’ll still be groggy from the Vecuronium, but it’ll pass.” He leaned in and shone a light into Nash’s right eye. “Good pupil response.” He moved it over to the left. “Good. Everything checks out. The procedure was successful. You’ll start to feel the effects in a couple weeks. Remain prone for another two hours and give the drugs a chance to clear your system before you go anywhere. I’d move you back to your room—” The digipad beeped again, but this time Blake took the call. “Doctor Kruvic? I wasn’t expecting you back until Friday. Is every— Yes, ma’am. Sorry, I didn’t hear my digipad, I was in the shower. I’m on my way now.” Blake disconnected and stuffed the device into his coat pocket. He made his way over to the sink on the far wall and turned the water on. “Best keep up appearances, eh Korpes?” Blake bent over, wet his hair down, then ran his fingers through it. “I’ll tell them you’re indisposed.”

“Thank you, for everything.” Nash shut his eyes again.

“You’re welcome.” Blake closed the door behind him.

*

Something furry caressed his cheek. Nash’s eyes snapped open. Dark. Where the hell am I? Another something skittered across his chest and landed on his hand. He jerked it away, and the motion triggered the Med-Bay lights to activate. He was not alone. “Gah!” Nash flung himself off the gurney and crashed onto the floor. A dozen silverii went with him and scurried for cover. He didn’t wait to see if there were more; he leaped to his feet and ran for the door. Nash had made it halfway through the hydroponic garden before he was sick.

Fear, significant adrenal response... crap. Nash leaned heavily against a support strut as he composed himself. I should check to see if they bit me, I don’t want to get an infection. He stripped off his t-shirt and was half-way out of his jeans before it occurred to him that he was in a public area. Maybe not an ideal location... Gods, I’m still stoned! He checked his watch, Twenty-two hundred. Only maintenance crews on now... Should be safe.

“Nash?”

He turned at the sound of his name, his jeans caught around his knees, and he sprawled backward into the garden. “Hi.” Nash couldn’t think of anything else to say. A familiar face came into view.

“What the hell?” Kalish looked from his semi-clad friend to the patch of vomit. “Let me call a Med-Tech.” He grabbed the t-shirt off the ground and pulled Nash out of the plants.

“No. I’m okay. Help me back to my room. I just need to sleep this off.”

“Sleep it off?” As Kalish handed him his shirt then leaned in close to get a good look at his eyes. “Drunk, or stoned?”

“Neither, technically,” Nash scrambled for a non-lie. “I’m reacting to some meds. It’ll pass.” He felt itchy and wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to the plants, bites, or his imagination. “I’m glad you’re here, I need to ask a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Would you check me over? I might miss something, and that would be bad.” Nash pulled his jeans up and did up the belt. He dropped the t-shirt and stooped to retrieve it, resisting the urge to vomit again as the motion triggered his vertigo.

“Check? What am I looking for?”

“Bites. I passed out in the Med-Bay down here, not knowing the lights are on timers. I may have acquired some Silverii bites.” Nash donned his shirt.

“Your room or mine?” Kalish grinned wickedly.

“Mine. Less chance of gossip” Nash chuckled. “Sorry, I know I’m no fun. Would you settle for a flat of beer as payment for your time?” Nash took a step, and everything wobbled. He clutched at a support strut to steady himself. “I better sit down.” He slid to the ground and leaned against the cold metal.

Kalish reached over and put his hand on Nash’s forehead. “You’re on fire. Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?”

Nash shook his head. “It’ll pass, thanks. I just need to rest for a few minutes.” Nash looked up at his friend. “I’ll understand if you can’t wait.”

Kalish sat down on the walkway with him. “For you, my friend, I’ve got all night.”

***

3. Junelle Station

Nash felt sorry for the girl sitting across from him and knew from her expression that she wanted to be there even less than he did. Time to get it over with. “Hi, I’m Nash Korpes.”

“Hello, I’m Rozwyn Kuld,” she replied, quietly.

Nash looked over at the large, one-way mirror and addressed the team of observers that lurked behind it. “There you go. Not only has she set an interview record by remaining longer than a minute, but she satisfied the preliminary meet and greet section by introducing herself and acknowledging my presence. Please spare us the embarrassment of going through the rest of this shit; let her reject me and go home. Making her sit here is cruel, even for you people.” Nash could feel them staring, and today it got on his last nerve. As he waited for a response, he glanced at the young woman.

Roz’s silent desperation saturated the room, and it hurt him to know he was the cause.

Nash focused his outrage and glared at the one-way mirror. “Look at her! It’s obvious she doesn’t want to be here. Let her go.”

“I’ll stay.”

Nash blinked in surprise. He’d heard those words twice before, and both times it had ended horrifically.

Roz made eye contact with him and didn’t flinch.

“Speak into the microphone please, Ms. Kuld.” The disembodied voice made them both jump.

Nash bestowed a look of utter contempt on those behind the one-way mirror, then turned back to Roz.

Her hazel-brown eyes held a volatile mix of fear and fury.

Please don’t look at me like that. I’m trying to get you out of here. Nash felt like he was drowning as he sought to find a way to save the situation. “Why? I can tell you’re miserable.” He softened his tone when she looked down. “Regardless of what they’ve said, you don’t have to do this. You can say no. Then they’ll find someone much better for you. Trust me.” He smiled and tried his best to get a positive response.

Roz leaned forward. “I’ll stay.” It was loud enough for the microphones to pick up this time.

Nash could sense the activity behind the mirror and panicked. “You don’t have to do this, really.” Another possibility occurred to him. Duress? Nash stood abruptly. “Let’s go for a walk; it’s allowed.” He spoke directly to Roz, ignoring their unseen audience. He made his way to the exit and held the door open for her. Once she was through, Nash made a rude gesture at the people behind the mirror and slammed the door shut.

To their credit, the guards stationed outside let them pass and made no effort to follow.

Thank the Gods for small miracles. Nash was still upset, but his anger was rapidly being replaced with concern. He could feel the discomfort radiating off Roz, and he didn’t know what to do. He walked beside her, keeping both hands in his pockets. Nash ducked and gracefully passed under a support beam, and they continued down the hall until they came to a junction in the passage. He stopped. “The one to the left leads to the main hangar.”

Roz stared down the dark corridor. Her body language shifted as she tensed, and her expression grew wary. “Hangar?”

Nash stepped back slightly, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry, it’s a public area, and at this time of day, it’s crowded. I’m only suggesting it because it’ll be harder for anyone to eavesdrop.”

Roz nodded, and they walked on, each isolated by their own thoughts until they reached their destination.

Nash directed her to an observation area that overlooked the entire bay and broke the silence first. “Look, it’s obvious you don’t want this to go any further. I understand, and it’s okay, really. What’s up? Who’s making you do this? If they told you that you don’t have a choice, they lied.”

Roz looked up at him and studied his face before she spoke. “I’ve already used my three vetoes. I don’t have any left. I’m sorry that I didn’t have a nicer way to say that.”

“Actually, it’s a relief to finally find out that other guys get rejected too. I appreciate you telling me that straight up. Thanks.”

Roz frowned at him, not trusting his response. “Being rejected doesn’t bother you?”

Nash shrugged. “When it happens a lot, you grow a thicker skin.”

Roz looked away, taking in their surroundings.

You can’t turn me down. Part of Nash couldn’t believe his luck. The rest of him didn’t think it was luck. Set-up. “So, what do you want to do?”

“I said I’d stay.” Though the answer was immediate, the flat tone betrayed the fact her heart wasn’t in it.

No eye-contact this time, Nash followed her gaze out into the main hangar. He found himself hoping that she’d relent and give him a chance. What the hell is wrong with me? He suppressed the urge to touch her. “You don’t really want to, though, do you?”

Roz left a universe unspoken.

“If it were your choice?” Nash bit his tongue, he didn’t want to hear the answer out loud, but it had to be asked. The sooner this was resolved, the better for it would be for everyone.

She looked up at him; her frustration was punctuated by her frown. “You seem nice enough, but ...”

“Yeah. That’s what I figured. Thanks for being kind.” Nash knew what the ‘but’ meant. He looked at himself in the mirror every day. I’m a real prize.

He reflected on the other two who’d said yes. Curiosity? Orders more likely. He hoped they’d been well compensated for their trauma. Both encounters had been short and utterly humiliating. That had been four years ago, and everyone had rejected him since. This girl would make it thirty-four times they’d tried to match him with someone. He’d become something of a legend for this distinction, the gossip followed him everywhere, and he hated the fact that the whispers still had the power to hurt him.

Nash looked up and noted that some of the cameras in the area were now active. Fucking spies. “Let me give you a tour of Junelle. Over here is the machine works.” Where the high-frequency sounds play havoc with the surveillance system. He led her over to where they were working on repairing a military train engine. “So, what do you do for a living?” Nash asked a general question as they crossed the open area between locations. He was interested, and it didn’t matter if it was overheard.

“I’m an artist, I paint.”

“Are you any good?”

“I’ve managed to sell a lot of my work and three pieces hang in the Sharo Art Gallery in Ribal.”

“I’ve always admired people that can create like that. I have no artistic or musical talent. Can I ask you about your family?” Nash led the way between the busy work bays.

“If you’re interested.”

“Do you have any Tyran ancestry?”

“Yes. It only shows in my blood-type and some genetic anomalies— But I’m not a throwback,” she added quickly.

Nash flushed and looked down.

“I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me,” Roz said, trying to take back some of the sting.

“No problem,” Nash lost himself in his own thoughts. Anomalies. Since being stationed at Junelle, Nash had met many of the throwbacks from the other groups, and he’d observed a trend. Now his theory had more traction. If all his interviews had been engineered by KMR and D, then there was a chance his progeny were destined for the Rec-Gen labs. But only if I agree to the match. Damn it. Nash glanced down at her and had to admit that they’d done a fantastic job of selecting someone that would appeal to him. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but she had something that drew him to her like a moth to flame. Nash would have given anything to have been someone else, someone acceptable, and someone who had a clue about what to do next.

Roz shifted from one foot to the other. She was growing uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

Shit. Now I’m scaring her. “Sorry for staring. I know it’s creepy, but you’ve probably already noticed I’m not adept at this social crap and, well— You’re very pretty. I, uh—”

The Kind voice came to his rescue. Take her somewhere she’d find interesting.

“Let’s keep moving. The research gardens and hydroponics are this way.” Nash suggested through a nervous smile.

Could you be any more pathetic? The Sarcastic voice chimed in.

Shut up! Nash tried to tune it out.

She’s a sure thing, but you’ll screw this up. You know you will. Just wait until she gets you in the—

“Thank you for the compliment – apology accepted. Why did you ask about my heritage? Everything is in my file, didn’t you read it?” Roz’s voice pulled Nash away from his internal argument.

He blinked, focusing on what he’d last said to her. “Uh. No, I didn’t. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions.”

“Suspicions?”

Nash stepped off to the side of the corridor to explain. “You’ve been honest with me, so I’ll return the favor. After I had been picked up by the prodigy screening, I was assigned to the Rec-Gen labs. I thought it was because of my IQ and memory, but it turned out that it was my ancestry. That was the first time I’d heard the term ‘throwback’.” Nash sighed, “Anyway, I’ve observed things in the files of the people that were selected for me, and it’s always the same. It all comes down to them having the old Tyran blood-type and the two markers I happen to be missing. Three-quarters of the labs here are tied to genetic research. I’m officially assigned to the Special Projects Division, but I spend ninety percent of my time in Rec-Gen. There are Ebo, Drakkar, and Birlo throwbacks working here as well—” He stopped, as it occurred to him what they could do with all that DNA. He pictured a tall, muscular, dark-skinned blond with silver blue eyes, floating in a suspension tank. If it gets any of my personality traits, there will be trouble. Nash grinned as he visualized the myriad outcomes.

“What’s so funny?” It was the first-time Roz had seen him smile and not look nervous.

“They’re probably trying to hybridize a super soldier from the best traits of each group, or something equally—” Roz’s horrified expression made him regret having shared his daydream. “I’m sorry. Regardless of what your job description says, if you’re Diasporan, you are part of the research and development in some capacity.” He paused then smiled, trying to re-establish her good will, and breathed a sigh of relief when she smiled back.

Nash started walking again, indicating the doors at the end of the hall. “I think you’ll find this interesting.” He typed in a code to open the personnel access to the hydroponics dome, then led the way into a small chamber. The door slid shut behind them. “It’ll take a minute for the system to scan us for contaminates. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.” He put his arms up, and Roz imitated him as a band of light slid down their bodies.

“Clear,” a voice over the intercom announced and the access light came on.

“After you.” Nash indicated the way out.

They wandered out onto a large stone balcony that overlooked the main gardens. Elaborate latticework supported the sections that had the floor to ceiling growth. The lights were shifting to the end of the day cycle, and in the gloom, the upper reaches of the dome weren’t visible.

Roz stopped and stared up into the dark. “This is incredible.” She inhaled the rich scent of the air and sighed.

“Junelle, Parlos, and Sandyn Stations supply just over forty-five percent of the food that Korlune requires. I’ve seen images of Sandyn, and their gardens are four times this size. They had to design a new type of dome—” His voice trailed off as he realized he was talking to fill the void. Nash watched as Roz bent to sniff a pink colored bloom.

She doesn’t want to hear about domes, moron.

A sad smile graced Nash’s lips. I know. He turned and climbed up onto the wide, stone railing behind them, then helped her up next to him. Both noted the contact, but neither spoke, choosing instead to take in the view. Nash hugged his knees to his chest and stared out over the garden, reflecting on the revelations of the last hour. Genetics. Funny, it all makes sense now. It’s always been there for me to see; I guess I just didn’t want to. His two previous encounters took on a new light. It was depressing, but the negative experiences had done him a favor. You can’t grieve the loss of something you’ve never known. Time to accept that and move on.

*

Roz sat next to him and studied him discreetly in the silence. Nash was not what she was expecting. She’d read the file and had been terrified of the prospect of meeting him. She reflected on their introduction and their time in the interview room. He’d been angry, and it had supported what was documented, but now, she found herself questioning her first response. Now, his anger seemed rational and fit the situation. Now that she’d talked to him, she didn’t find him frightening at all. He’d been honest, sweet even, and she found herself liking him despite what she’d read.

“Can I call you Nash?”

“Yes.”

“You can call me Roz.”

*

“Thank you, Roz.” He smiled but didn’t look at her. “You shortened your name?”

“Yes. Rozwyn’s an old family name,” she said with a degree of resignation.

“I understand completely.” He was grinning now. “My middle name is Xander, and I’ve taken flack for it over the years. I don’t tell people what the X stands for anymore.”

Silence descended on them again.

The Sarcastic voice prompted him this time. Talk to her, you idiot.

About what?

Anything.

“Do you know the tradition behind our names?”

“It’s a way of remembering the Tyran houses that fell during the final war?”

“Almost. Korlo history would have us believe that the old families died out, but the truth is we were stripped of our surnames and forced to take new ones when we lost to the Birlo. My sister and I were lucky; my grandmother knew the old stories and believed they were important enough to share. Giving someone their real family name each generation is, in fact, an act of defiance.”

“There should be a rule that states they aren’t allowed to assign it as a first name,” she blurted out, hotly.

Her comment caught him off guard, and he laughed. While he understood the importance of the tradition, he sympathized. He turned, she was smiling too. You did that to get a response... Gods, you’re beautiful. For a moment, he was transfixed. He would have sold his soul to make things work without any thought to the consequences.

Roz stared at him, equally mesmerized.

Nash got flustered first and looked away, blushing. “Sorry... Staring... Creepy ...”

“Why didn’t you read my file?”

He had to take a moment to recover himself. What the hell is wrong with me?

How long do we have to draft the list? The Sarcastic voice replied.

Shut up. Nash pushed himself to make eye-contact with her again. “Experience has taught me it’s easier to deal with the no when you don’t know what you’re missing. I haven’t read a file in over three years. It’s not personal.”

“I read your file.”

“I’ve read my file too. Based on its contents, I’d reject myself in a heartbeat.”

“I’m starting to suspect that the information in it isn’t entirely accurate.” Roz watched him carefully, knowing she’d struck something. “It isn’t, is it Nash?”

He looked away, choosing not to answer; rejection was easier to take when you didn’t feel naked as well. He’d learned that the hard way.

Roz reflected on their exchanges, allowing silence to descend on them again. “What if I were to say yes to this arrangement?”

“Please, don’t tease me. Not on this subject. You don’t want this match; you’ve already said it. You just think you’re stuck with me. There are ways around it.”

“What if I said yes?” She pressed the point.

“Stop.” Nash turned back to face her. He searched her face for any sign that she was just having a go at him to be cruel. After an eternal minute, he decided the risk was worth it. “If we were in a Diaspora, this situation would be a lot easier to deal with. You could be rid of me once the kids were born by citing extenuating circumstances; no magistrate would argue the point once they got a look at me. If you didn’t want to raise the children, then my family would take them in.”

Tell her how you feel, or you’ll regret it forever. The Kind voice prompted.

Nash took a deep breath, resigning himself to his fate. “Know this— If we were both in the Diaspora, I’d swim Lake Evora if it meant that you’d consider me as a real prospect.”

Naked now. Feel better?

Yes. Nash answered the Sarcastic voice before continuing. “Sadly, I’m not. Things with me are never normal, and I’m here. Accepting this match means you would be trapped here with me.” He stared at her, and the dam burst. Things he’d never said out loud fought to be heard. “Roz, I hate my life, I’ve hated it since I was thirteen. I wouldn’t wish this on someone I detest, why would I condemn someone I love to it? I’m not that selfish—” He paused as what he’d just voiced sank in. “No, I can’t lie to you. What I really, really want to hear is a ‘yes’, to have you mean it, but I can’t ask for that. I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life, but this isn’t only about what I want. It’s about what’s right.” He hung his head unable to continue.

*

She admired his fearlessness. She found she admired a lot about him when she reflected on the time they’d spent walking and talking. Roz took a closer look at Nash as he stared down at the gardens and weighed what she’d read against what she’d been shown. A small smile crept across her face when she remembered his offer to swim Lake Evora to win her attention. Brave and romantic. I can still claim extenuating circumstances, he said as much... but... Roz shook her head. It wasn’t the answer.

*

Nash didn’t attempt to fill the void in the conversation. He had nothing left to say. He’d buried his loneliness well, but the depth that he’d felt it when he spoke it out loud to Roz, had shocked him. When you leave, that’s it. He could feel the weight of her gaze and turned to meet it. She didn’t appear uncomfortable; it was more an expression of curiosity.

“Your eyes are actually green, aren’t they?” she’d never met someone with green eyes before. The artist in her studied the young man in front of her.

“Uh— Yes?”

“I wish I had green eyes, they’re beautiful!” Roz drew in closer to get a better look.

Nash just about fell off the railing and had to brace himself quickly. He stared at her in disbelief.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” She’d not expected a reaction.

“No one has ever made that observation.”

“You’re kidding? Apparently, no one has looked at your eyes properly then,” she leaned in closer and caught herself staring. She realized that she was making him uncomfortable now. “All of your coloring is remarkable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as blond as you, up close... May I?” She indicated that she wanted to touch his hair.

No one’s ever asked to do that before. Nash wasn’t sure what to do, so he leaned down. Roz slowly ran her fingers through it, the texture was much softer than she’d expected. He closed his eyes, leaning into her hand and enjoying the sensation of being touched. Nash pretended that he was the person she wanted.

They both heard the air filtration systems click over into the night cycle mode. Within a few minutes, the temperature within the dome dropped tangibly.

Roz shivered and moved closer, wrapping her arms around his waist in an attempt to get warmer.

Whoa. Nash wasn’t sure what to do. Few people touched him voluntarily and she’d now done it three times. It took him a moment to realize he was holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, trying not to be obvious. Yes. This close, the fact she wore perfume became evident, and it was wonderful. It made him slightly light-headed. He hesitantly put his arm around her shoulders and was surprised when instead of flinching, she cuddled in closer. Perfect. He committed the scene to memory.

They sat in silence as the garden shifted into the night cycle and the atmospheric sprayers activated. Neither of them had ever experienced real rain. Topside, all water was acidic.

Roz shivered. She was getting colder.

Nash slid out of his lab coat and wrapped it gently around her before putting his arm around her shoulders again.

She snuggled closer.

He desperately wanted to kiss her, but didn’t dare; the moment was too fragile, and it would only add more to his problem. “Would you like to go and get coffee? It might help you warm up.” He was soaked to the skin, but his senses were entirely focused on Roz and where she was touching him.

“No. Not just yet— I like this, it’s peaceful, and you’re keeping me warm.” She pressed closer and shut her eyes. “Yes, I like this.” Roz murmured as she focused on the sound of his heart beating. It was comforting.

Peaceful? No. More like amazing. Nash sat there, trying to stop time using sheer willpower.

She’s just making the best of a situation she feels trapped in, the Sarcastic voice reminded him.

The truth was a bullet. The fragile moment shattered. Nash remembered the expression in her eyes when they first met, and he knew that if he saw it again, it would kill him. “So, about our problem. I have a solution.” He felt like someone had punched him in the chest.

“What do you mean?” Roz asked.

“It’s simple. I’ve never used my vetoes, so, I’ll give you one of mine. For the sake of the paperwork, I’ll reject the match.” The pain in his chest grew with every word, and he realized that what he was feeling was his heartbreak. He had no idea that something non-physical could hurt so much. What’s the matter with me? I just met her... things don’t happen this fast! Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. She was different. His heart was telling him she was.

“You’d actually do that for me?” Roz was astonished. She shifted her position, so she could see his face.

“Yes. It’s the best course of action. Neither the Pairing Protocol nor KMR and D can block a veto. Let’s go get it sorted right now. If I get the paperwork done tonight, you can be on a train out of here and home within the next couple of days.” He looked down at her, wishing a final time that he was the someone she wanted. Nash lost himself in her eyes, he could feel where she was pressed against him. She was warm, and her hand was now resting on his upper thigh. Oh, shit! Gotta move - now. Without his lab coat, his erection was obvious, and it had just become painful on several levels.

Roz watched him as he swung around and slid off the railing. She imagined going home, waiting and then meeting the next person selected, and it struck her. She knew she’d met the one she was interested in. She was looking at him now. Roz came to a decision and smiled. “Yes, this could work.” She handed him back his coat. “Thank you.”

Nash helped her off the railing, then turned away as he slid the lab coat back on. It’s for the best. He was cold, wet and trying his best to not look as utterly destroyed as he felt.

“You’re serious about this?”

“Yes, and for the record, I think you’re putting the veto to excellent use.” He looked over his shoulder at her and forced a smile.

Roz took his hand, halting his march toward the door.

“Stop for a minute, Nash— I’m saying yes. You asked me earlier if I’d be willing to give you a chance. In the last hour of talking to you, you’ve shown me, someone, I’d like to get to know better.” She stepped closer. “What you’re offering to do for me now is so incredibly noble. I’m afraid that you’ve sealed your fate. I accept this match.”

“Uh. What?” Nash stared at her, confused, then what she’d said filtered through into reality. “Really?” The pain in his chest, evaporated, only to be replaced by anxiety as the full meaning registered. “No, wait! Seriously, that’s an appalling idea. I’ve already explained why.”

“You can’t live your life not daring to reach for things you want because of the unknown. That’s not living! That’s letting them win! I say we don’t let them! We have six months to get to know each other before things are finalized, but I already know I like you, and it’s only been a couple of hours.” She reached up and kissed him softly on the lips.

Nash was speechless. He fought valiantly to maintain the logical course, but his resolve crumbled as he looked down at her. She’d said yes. Romantic optimism swept away the last vestiges of caution or doubt.

“Do you want to give this a chance?” she asked.

“Do I still have to swim Lake Evora to prove my intent? I think I have more to offer you in the long run if I’m alive.”

Roz giggled, then shook her head.

They left the gardens, holding hands, in search of a hot cup of coffee and something for dinner.

Nash privately wondered which of the Gods now owned his soul, so he took the precaution of thanking them all.

***

4. Junelle Station

“What’s the word?” Kalish yelled up but didn’t get a response. “Nash?” He climbed up the ladder and clambered out onto the metal scaffold that surrounded their latest project. “Nash?”

The blond tech was nowhere in sight.

Kalish walked out onto the wing of the transport, avoiding the sections that were etched with water damage. He paused to take in the entire view when he finally spotted Nash, crouched over the engine cowling. The transport’s outer hull was breached in sections. Mist rose from other areas that had come into direct contact with the rain. A dull clank of metal on concrete confirmed his fear that the ship was still dissolving. Kalish carefully picked his path out to where the blond tech was perched.

“Hmm?” Nash looked up from the diagnostic pad he was holding and removed the headset.

“What’s the prognosis, oh mighty tech-god?”

“Give this thing last rites. There’s too much damage to the airframe and the engines. The digi-link system is completely fried, as well. Pull the hard-link systems out and then ship the rest to be recycled.” Nash logged his time and then tucked the device into his pocket. “I’ve never seen rain damage this bad. What happened?”

“Word is, they caught the edge of a storm that spun off Lake Evora, yesterday. The pilot and his passenger were taken to the Med-Bay.”

“I hope they’re in better shape than their transport.” Nash paused to look at his watch, then swung himself over the railing and down. A grateful smile graced his lips when his feet touched the floor. No pain... Two months ago and I wouldn’t have been able to do that. “Anything else you need a tech to sign off on while I’m here?”

“No. Thanks, Nash, this was the last of it. I appreciate you coming in on your own time to help out.” Kalish slid off the wing and landed in a crouch. “This storm has us scrambling right now, and most of our Techs are at Sandyn, helping to repair the dome maintenance systems. Got time for a beer, or do you have to dash?”

“I always have time for a—” Nash’s digipad beeped. “Sorry, I’d better take this.”

Kalish pursed his lips. “Roz checking up on you?”

Nash leaned up against the wall and read the text a second time just to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood. Three month’s leave. They’re letting us go home.

“You’re grinning again. What did she say?” Kalish tried to peek at the screen.

“My leave came through. Once we get the ‘all clear’ from the Med-Techs, we’re allowed to go.” Nash wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Excuse me for a minute, I’ve got to let Roz know.” He punched in the extension to her digipad, and it went straight to messages. “Hey, Roz. You’re probably still with Doctor Kruvic, but I wanted to let you know that they’ve granted my leave. All we need is to update our shots, and then we can go. Call me when you’re ready, and we’ll do something special to celebrate.”

“Thank you for sparing me the pet names, I’d probably vomit.” Kalish motioned like he was gagging, then winked. “Just kidding. It’s actually kind of cute. I’m happy if you’re happy, really— You are happy, right?” The tone of his voice shifted to match the seriousness of the question.

Nash studied his friend for a moment, before answering. “Yeah, I am. I never thought this would happen and now that it has, I don’t have the words to describe it.”

Kalish patted him affectionately on the arm. “Good enough for me. When were you last home?”

“Eight years ago.”

“What— You’re kidding?” Kalish raised an eyebrow.

“Nope.”

“You told Roz you wanted to celebrate, and I happen to owe you a beer. C’mon, let me buy you that drink. I’m sure she won’t mind if you start a bit early.”

*

“She’s responded extremely well to the follicle stimulating hormone. I’ve managed to harvest nine eggs. If she continues to produce like this over the next year, we’ll have all the material we need for phase three.” Doctor Vivienne Kruvic covered her patient up. “Do you have her blood work ready yet? Doctor Maro put a rush on it.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve taken the liberty of forwarding the files to Doctor Maro, already.”

“I’m going to miss you, Blake. Selwyn is lucky to be getting you.”

A soft groan drew their attention to the young woman on the gurney.

“Rozwyn? Can you hear me?” Vivienne learned over Roz and opened one of her eyes. She adjusted the scanner and watched as Roz’s pupil dilated appropriately. “She’s starting to wake up. Move her back to my exam room; there’s no need to alarm her by having her wake up here. I’ll place the samples in cryoprotectants to prep them for vitrification and join you presently.”

Blake released the brakes on the wheels and pushed the hospital gurney through the double doors. He looked down as she stirred and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Roz’s eyes flickered open for a moment, and she squinted, trying to block out the full spectrum lights. “Everything’s so bright.” Her eyes shut again.

“You’re dreaming. The tests made you sleepy, but everything’s fine. Just rest.” He used the remote to summon the elevator and slid the gurney through the doors as they opened. Blake pushed the button for the sixty-first floor, then allowed himself to lean heavily against the padded wall. Not what I signed on for.

Blake backed out of the elevator, pulling the gurney gently behind him. “Doctor Blake Huri, ID number four seven two seven.” He flashed the badge at the camera but didn’t look up. “Patient, Rozwyn Kuld. Diasporan civilian: file link, Nine-Four-Two-a.” He backed down the hall and into Vivienne’s office. “It’s okay, this is almost over.” He muttered as he transferred her onto the exam table. Blake lifted her head and tucked a pillow under it, then set up the IV bags on the attached stand. “Rest. Doctor Kruvic was called away, but she’ll be back soon. She won’t mind if you have a little nap.”

“Thirsty—”

“I’ll bring you some water. Stay still. I’ll be right back.” Blake pushed the gurney out of the room and left it in the corridor for an intern to pick up. Where is everyone? Blake strode up the hall, to the closest vend-o-mat, selected a bottle of water and a Jalat. He sipped his choice and instantly regretted it. Blake forced himself to finish it and tossed the cup in the recycler.

The main monitor was active and broadcasting news of the latest terrorist attack. Two interns stood mesmerized in front of the screen, debating who was responsible.

“Hey! Doctor Kruvic will have a fit if she sees that gurney outside her office when she gets back.” Blake smiled, but there was no warmth to it. “Catch up on the news on your own time.” Blake watched as the two young men scurried past him to comply. He waited until they were out of sight before he returned to the exam room.

“Here’s your water. Sorry, I took so long—  Hey there. You shouldn’t be sitting up yet. Give yourself a bit of time to come around.”

Roz sipped it then handed the bottle back. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. I feel so cold. I fell asleep?”

Blake draped a spare lab coat around her shoulders and settled her back again. “It’s a typical reaction to the test – we should have warned you. What you need now is some dinner and a good night’s rest.” He walked over to a glass cabinet and chose a small vial from the back row. Blake shook it as he approached the IV stand. “This will help, too.” He filled a syringe with the pale blue contents and then injected it into her IV.

“What is it?” Roz sat up again, to see more.

“Doctor Maro went over your tests from last month and determined you were suffering from Phagostyrma. Don’t worry, it’s something young women with Tyran blood type are susceptible to; it’s another name for anemia This is a mixture he’s devised just for you. It will fix the problem. Lie back for a few more minutes, and I promise you’ll start to feel better.” Blake adjusted the pillow and smiled down at her.

“Thank you, Doctor Huri. I can see why Nash likes you.”

Blake didn’t answer. He patted her shoulder and turned away.

*

Vivienne slid the last of the specimen trays into the small freezer and coded in her personal ID to seal it. She glanced at the Lab-Tech closest to her, “Ensure that this is delivered directly to Doctor Maro when you reach Nekkaro Station.”

“Yes, Doctor Kruvic, I’ll attend to it myself. Forgive me, ma’am, are you alright?

“Yes. I’m simply tired.” She lied. Even the brief exposure to the cold made her hands ache. The pain was now radiating up her arms. No! I don’t have time for this. “I’ll leave this with you. Message me when everything else is packed for shipment.”

“Certainly, Doctor Kruvic.”

Vivienne looked over the lab a final time then stepped into the adjoining workroom and shut the door behind her. She held her hands up and watched as they shook. Enough. Vivienne extracted a small, opaque glass container from the pocket of her lab coat and looked for something to take the medication with. She swallowed two capsules then sat on the stool by the research station. It had been weeks since her last treatment, and now she was paying for her lack of diligence. Selwyn will be furious that I’ve pushed it this long. Pain flared in every joint, and she winced as she leaned against the counter. Even in her discomfort, she managed a self-satisfied smile. It’ll pass, and soon we’ll have our cure. She bent forward until her head rested on her arm and closed her eyes.

*

A wall of sound hit them as they opened the doors to the canteen. The rhythmic bass of the dance music pulled at them as they joined the sea of movement inside. The darkness was punctuated by flashes that played out across the high ceiling like lightning, synchronized to the beat. The bar was an island of light along the far wall, and they pushed their way through the crowd to reach it.

Shelter from the storm. Nash understood the urge to find distractions from the severe weather outside, especially after what happened at Sandyn. He noted there was military personnel in the crowd, dancing, and it made him uneasy. The rumors about the trouble must be true then. Damn news blackouts. I’ll check the BBS later and see what’s going on. “It’s busy tonight,” Nash yelled as he slid past a couple who were dancing. He claimed a spot at the bar.

Kalish squeezed in next to him and cupped his hand to his ear. “What?”

Nash grinned and made a small series of gestures with his right hand, signing out the words ‘busy’ and ‘loud’.

The Ebo Mech nodded and caught the bartender’s attention. He signaled for beer and held up two fingers. He leaned in closer to Nash. “Care to dance?”

Nash shook his head, grinning. “We’ll lose our place here, besides,” he pointed at someone standing behind Kalish. “I’m not nearly graceful enough – but I think Tim’s up to the task.”

Kalish turned and looked the man up and down, slowly. “Your loss, Tim’s gain. Don’t put anything in my drink while I’m gone,” he shouted back over his shoulder.

“Your beer is safe with me,” Nash yelled back and watched his friend melt into the crowd. Roz likes this song. He let the infectious beat wash over him as he checked his messages. Still nothing? Something cold touched his arm and made him jump.

“Sorry.” The bartender signed after he set their drinks down.

“No problem.” He signed back. Even sitting at the bar, it was hard to hear what was said unless you raised your voice. I’ll never hear a call over this. Nash put in an earpiece, connected it to his digipad, and then tucked the device into his breast pocket. He sipped idly at his beer as he people watched. The canteen was over-capacity, but no one enforced the regulation during storm season. This was one of the only spots in Junelle where people could go to unwind, and it was open twenty-four hours a day.

The crowd swelled toward him as a fight broke out near the door and he watched as the bouncers moved in to deal with it. The music volume dropped, as they began to work the combatants over. The crowd surged to catch the action. The crack of a fist hitting someone’s jaw and the collective cheer was all it took; he was back at Teslem, fighting for his life. He remembered the blow that drove him to the ground and the sensation of his ribs being broken. He caught himself before he fell off the stool and leaned heavily against the bar, trying to tune it all out before he suffered a panic attack.

Take a deep breath, calm yourself. You’re safe. There are no suppression guard stationed here, the Kind voice reminded him.

You’d think I’d be over it by now. It’s been two years. Nash sipped his beer and tried not to recall the details. He didn’t dream about it as often as he used to, but it still had power over him.

Trauma takes time to heal.

He smiled softly to himself, grateful that the other voices hadn’t chimed in this time. Thank you.

“I’d give a week’s pay to know what makes you smile like that. I know it isn’t Roz because you’ve been doing it for as long as I’ve known you.” Kalish sat down and claimed his beer.

“It’s a voice in my head.” Nash toasted Kalish with his bottle, then took another sip.

“Fine, don’t tell me then. Did you see the fight?”

“No. Who was it?”

“Al Warvyne and Stan Dros, again. They got themselves barred from the premises this time – Dros is trouble. I hear he’s been transferred five times in the last two years.”

“Dros? He’s the new Mech, right?”

“Yep. He’s got to be the world’s shortest Tyran. We call him Tiny—” Kalish stopped himself. “Sorry, Nash. I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“I know,” Nash’s gaze drifted to the door. With a name like Warvyne, the other guys got to be Birlo... “You’ve got pull in the Mech-Bay,” he turned to face Kalish.

“Some.”

Nash stared at his drink for a moment then answered, “Try to get Dros assigned to one of the all-Ebo crews. Keep him away from the Birlo Mechs, especially Warvyne.”

“I’ll have to bribe someone to take him – I wasn’t kidding when I said he has a bad rep.”

“So do I.” Nash reminded him.

“Sensing a kindred spirit in Tiny? Alright. I’ll do what I can, but you’ll owe me.”

“Tech support whenever you need it?”

“That wasn’t at the top of my wish-list, but it’s a fair deal. Done. To my soft-hearted friend, Nash, and his future bride. I wish you every happiness.” He raised his bottle and invoked an old Diasporan salute. “K’stanzi.”

“K’stanzi.”

“Speaking of Roz, shouldn’t she have contacted you by now?”

Nash checked his digipad. There was nothing new, so he scrolled through the older messages to see if he’d missed one by accident. Nothing. He frowned as he checked his watch.

Kalish signaled the bartender and indicated they had finished their drinks, then turned his attention back to Nash. “Call and set your mind at ease.”

Nash punched in her extension, and his expression softened when she answered. “Hi... I was getting worried. Is everything okay? Would you like me to come and get you now?”

Kalish slid a fresh bottle of beer in front of Nash and leaned against the bar as he studied his friend’s face.

Nash flashed him a quick smile, nodding his thanks. As Roz spoke, his expression darkened again. “Of course not. Are you okay?”

Kalish cocked an eyebrow and waited.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Nash disconnected, pulled out the earpiece and slid the digipad back in his pocket.

“Problem?”

“I’m not sure. She said she’d had a reaction to the test. Sorry to do this to you, but I’ve got to go - You free tomorrow night?” Nash downed the beer in two shots.

Kalish let out a soul-destroying sigh, then smirked. “Would I ever turn you down?”

Nash slid his ID through the scanner on the bar.

“Hey, this was supposed to be my treat.”

“Consider it my apology for changing the plan.”

“You’re a class act, my friend. Go, rescue your damsel.” Kalish made a shooing gesture.

“Thanks.” Nash grinned, turned, and snaked his way through the press of people.

*

Kalish watched him leave, then turned to the bartender and ordered himself another beer. “Roz,” he muttered under his breath.

“Your face matches the weather, Kalish.” The bartender signed back to him. He brought the bottle, opening it in front of the Mech. He leaned in closer and spoke in Sunarang, their Diaspora slang dialect. “Man troubles?”

“I feel like I’m watching a train-wreck in slow motion, Flynn, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” Kalish took a long swig of beer, thumping the bottle back down on the bar with more force than he’d intended. “Sorry. Get me a rag, and I’ll clean up my mess.”

“Flynn motioned for another bartender to fill his position, then produced a cloth from under the counter. “So, are you here to vent, again, or do you want my advice this time?”

“Actually, I’m here on business, but I could do with a bit of a rant. If your advice is to talk to Roz, I plan to,” Kalish blotted up the spilled beverage and then reached into his pocket. He extracted his digipad, opened a file, then slid it across the counter.

Flynn’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Planning a party, or have you expanded our list of clients tenfold?”

“Both.” Kalish used his thumb to discretely gesture at a corporal near him, “There are five-hundred just like him; fresh-faced and post drug test. No one’s going to be deployed in this weather - I’m merely offering a pleasant distraction during their internment at Junelle.”

Flynn chuckled, “You were always one to see opportunity, even when we were kids. I can’t get all of this together right away. What will get you started?”

“Fifty tabs of Bellum; I’ve got buyers lined up. A kilo of Tula— You wouldn’t happen to have access to any Zelat, would you?”

Flynn scowled, “Zelat? Liquid or crystal?”

Kalish nodded, “Liquid. This is a special request,”

“If we’re caught with it, they’ll ship us both to Tantrys.”

“Can you arrange it?”

A young lieutenant elbowed in between the corporal and Kalish and shouted over the music, “Klyste.”

Flynn put on his professional smile and signed back. “I’m on my break, but Cas will be happy to set you up.” Flynn signed the order to a red-headed man further down the bar.

Cas joined them, signing, “Single or a double, sir?”

The lieutenant was about to sign back when the music became down-tempo and softer. “Just in time. I haven’t used sign for a few years, and I’ve forgotten most of it. I’d like a double,” he replied in Korlo. The lieutenant studied the bottles arrayed on the shelves in front of him. He grinned as Cas filled a glass.

“You’ve got a good selection of booze,” the lieutenant turned to Kalish, “but that’s only part of what makes the world go around.” He finished his drink in one shot. “Any hints as to where I could find some skilled companionship?”

Kalish looked the young man up and down, assessing him. Dark hair, blue eyes, tan complexion... North Western Diasporan accent, freckles. Korlo half-breed. He responded in Korlo. “That depends on your definition of skilled. Tastes differ, and mine have never been conventional. I’m Kalish, by the way. You are?”

“Lieutenant Dylan Glass. Pleased to meet you. I didn’t know there were enough Korlo here to qualify for a consort district?” Dylan looked briefly at his empty glass.

“There aren’t, but we get by. Welcome to our version of Lorsa’s ‘Nox Plaza’.” Kalish gestured flamboyantly at their surrounds then indicated that Flynn should refill the lieutenant’s glass. “I’m certain you’ll find someone here who’s susceptible to your charms.” He winked. “Care to dance?”

Dylan paused, blinked and then recovered himself. “Uh— no. Thanks, though.” He finished the shot in one go.

Kalish patted him on the shoulder in a friendly way. “Forgive me, I’m a big flirt, and I’ve made you uncomfortable. Sorry. Let me buy you a drink to make it up to you.”

Flynn refilled the glass.

“Thanks.” Dylan sipped it.

“If you’re looking for company of the opposite sex, those lucky candidates sit along the North wall - see those mirrors over there? That’s their favored hunting ground.” Kalish pointed across the dance floor. “Dance and I guarantee you won’t leave this place alone.”

Dylan finished the rest of his drink quickly, then slid his ID through the scanner on the bar, punching in a short sequence of numbers. “Thanks for the advice. Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen.”

“Perhaps we’ll meet again,” Kalish said.

“Perhaps.” Dylan turned and faded into the sea of bodies.

“He’s paid for your next two drinks,” Flynn observed.

“Why are all the hot ones straight?” Kalish replied switching back into Sunarang.

“How quickly the heart forgets.” Flynn teased him.

Kalish gave him a pained look. “Back to business. How soon can I get my order?”

“I’ve got fifty tabs of Bellum in stores, as well as the Tula. I’ll use drop site five. The Zelat may be a problem. I’ll have to check and get back to you on it. Call it two-hundred for the tabs, five-hundred for the kilo, and, if I can get them, another two-hundred for four twenty-millilitre ampules.”

Kalish typed a code sequence onto his digipad and then transferred the funds. “Do you need a hand with deliveries?”

Flynn chuckled. “Sure, it’ll be just like old times. I’ll text you later with the details.”

*

Nash could hear the laughter through the door and knocked. “Doctor Kruvic?”

“Come in, Nash,” Blake answered.

Nash entered Vivienne’s office and closed the door behind him. “Good evening, Doctor Huri, Doctor—” he looked around and realized that Vivienne was missing.

“Doctor Kruvic was unavoidably detained,” Blake added a note to his digipad. “Rozwyn, Doctor Kruvic will want to follow up with you in a month. Her new assistant will contact you with the details.

“Congratulations on completing your internship, Doctor Huri. When are you shipping out to Nekkaro Station?” Nash asked.

“Zero-six hundred tomorrow. I’ve been assigned to Doctor Selwyn Maro’s staff, in the Special Projects Division there.”

“Thank you, Doctor Huri. Please, thank Doctor Maro too, for taking such an interest in my case. I’m feeling better now.” Roz stood and crossed the room to stand with Nash. “Shall we?”

“With your permission, sir?” Nash waited for Blake to give the okay.

“We’re done here. Have a good night, you two.”

Nash opened the door for Roz and paused to look back after she’d exited, “Thank you again, sir, for everything. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Have a good life, Nash.” Blake saluted him and went back to his notes.

Nash closed the door softly behind him.

They walked down the hallway, hand in hand, past the reception desk and into the waiting room. Floor to ceiling windows faced east, and they gave them an unrestricted view of the storm that boiled across the sky. Multi-coloured flashes arced from cloud to cloud culminating with a brilliant strike. Fires spotted across the plain, only to be put out by the torrential rain. Sounds were dampened, but they could still feel some of the vibration caused by the thunder.

Roz shivered as she watched, and Nash used the excuse to put his arm around her.

“This originated over Lake Evora. The multicolored jets and sprites that you see jumping from cloud to cloud are unique to storms from that region. I’ve heard theories that it’s due to some type of gas molecule that’s generated by the Seep.”

“I’ve never been this close to the Seep. Are we in any danger?” Roz stared out into the sky in wonder.

Nash hugged her closer, “No. We’re too far inland for the full force to hit us.” He reached forward and put his left hand against the window. “Plus, we’re protected by layers of granite, tellium, and laminated metallic glass. The glass is also protected by a constantly renewed, transparent polymer that bonds to the surfaces and prevents the water from accumulating,” Nash paused, trying to gauge her interest, then continued. “If you watch the hydroponics dome, you can see the polymer being reapplied. It happens regularly.” He pointed to a section near the crown of the dome. A panel appeared to glow, then it developed a mirror-like sheen, compared to those around it.

Roz pointed in the same direction. “The glass on the panel next to it is dull, why?”

“Good eye. That green tint means the acid has etched through the glass and broken the top seal. Don’t worry, there are multiple strata in the glass and green indicates that pane’s good for another few weeks, even without the polymer. Maintenance will swap it and the sprayer module out when the rain stops—”

You really know how to woo a girl, don’t you? If you check, her eyes have glazed over. The Sarcastic voice chimed in.

Shut up. “Oh, wow, look at that!” Nash pointed as a bright discharge illuminated the upper canopy of cloud showing hues ranging from amber through violet.

“It’s beautiful.” She watched the arcs play across the heavens.

That’s your cue to say something romantic. The Kind voice hinted.

“So are you.”

Roz looked up to find him watching her, instead of the spectacle outside. She wrapped her arms around him.

Nash leaned down, kissed her and then nuzzled around behind her left ear. “You smell good, too.” He gently bit her earlobe.

She giggled. “Food would taste better, I’m sure.”

“I beg to differ.” Nash nibbled his way down her neck, lost to her scent.

“Not here— someone will see.” Roz’s smile grew, even as she stepped away.

Nash released her, reluctantly. “Dinner?”

“Doctor Huri did say to eat.”

“Anything else?”

“Rest.” Roz’s eyes were lit with mischief.

“Please, allow me to be your escort to the finest cafeteria this side of Sandyn.” Nash offered her his arm.

“Such a gentleman. Do you have any helpful suggestions as to how I can relax, kind sir?” She bit her lower lip as she looked up at him.

Nash flushed, crimson. “Maybe.”

Roz took his arm and hugged it to her chest as she led him toward the elevator. “Only maybe? If you’re looking for hints, I really like that thing you do with your tongue.”

A brilliant flash lit the room behind them. The interior lights flickered at the same time they felt the vibration of the thunder through the walls.

“That seemed close.” Roz’s tone was calm, but her grip had tightened tenfold.

“I think it struck the tower. I’ve never been up here when that’s happened, but I’ve been told it occurs fairly frequently.” Nash flashed his ID at the camera and pressed the call button for the elevator.

“Shouldn’t we take the stairs?”

Nash glanced back toward the windows. “I’d rather be in the elevator, relying on the backup hard-link system, than facing sixty flights of stairs in crappy light.” He looked down at Roz with affection. “Besides, you’re supposed to rest.”

The doors slid open soundlessly, and Nash escorted Roz inside. He pressed the button for the seventh floor then maneuvered her into the corner nearest them. “So, you like what I do with my tongue, do you?” He bent and kissed her passionately. A ripple of delight ran through him, as she returned it. “I like what you do with yours, too.” His fingers moved toward the emergency stop button. They both jumped at the unexpected voice announcing they were stopping at level fifty-seven.

The elevator doors slid open. Three Korlo interns entered; their conversation stopped when they noticed the pair.

“Good evening. It’s Tech Korpes, isn’t it?”

“Good evening, gentlemen.” Nash faced the group to give Roz a chance to compose herself behind him. He could feel the heat of her blush on his back and knew he wore one to match.

The man closest to Nash pressed the button for the tenth floor. “Have you heard the news?”

“News?” Nash looked at him blankly for an instant before he remembered. “Oh. Sandyn’s dome issues?”

“No. The M’Kang just struck again. This time they attacked a supply station near Ethos. They’re getting bolder.”

Nash frowned “Where did you hear it was the M’Kang?”

“Who else could it be?” All three men stared at Nash as though he’d sprouted a second head.

“How about Clan Evora? Military deserters? Ankoresh?”

“The cease-fire’s been in place for close to two decades. In all that time, there have only been three incidents along the buffer zone, and two were friendly fire. It’s not Ankoresh.”

“I still think it’s a leap to blame M’Kang for this. They’re not that organized—”

“Open your damn eyes, Korpes. They’ve hit five military sites in the last two months. The M’Kang are arming themselves.”

“M’Kang don’t hit military sites. They prey on the Diaspora, or they pilfer small outposts and steal a few supplies. They might shoot back if you shoot first, but minimal property damage is ever done. It’s irritating, but it’s not terror.’

“They live for conflict.” The man at the back retorted.

Nash felt Roz grip the back of his shirt and realized that she hadn’t joined the debate. Her silence spoke volumes.

Careful. The Kind voice advised.

Way to stick your foot in it. I think the one in the back is going to have a stroke! I’ve never seen eyes bug out like that. The Sarcastic voice laughed.

“Are you an M’Kang sympathizer, Korpes?”

“No,” he studied them while he contemplated his next words. “I’m not. I apologize for any offense I may have given, and I believe this is your destination.” He pointed up as the floor was announced. “I wish you each a pleasant evening.”

The three interns stepped out of the elevator, but the one who’d been at the back turned to face Nash. “A pretty apology; one I suspect you don’t mean. Watch yourself.”

Nash kept his expression polite and neutral as the doors slid shut, then exhaled sharply. “Not the way I’d hoped to use my tongue during this ride - Sorry.” He glanced over his shoulder at Roz, trying to gauge her mood.

She hugged him. “I thought you used it rather well, but if you like, you can make it up to me after dinner.”

*

Roz stretched, rolled onto her right side, opened her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief when she realized the cramps had disappeared. The spot next to her on the narrow cot was still warm. “What time is it?”

“Just after nineteen-hundred.” Nash looked up from his console and watched as she slid out from under the covers.

“You let me sleep the day away.” Roz flushed under his gaze and reached for her clothes. What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Roz grinned shyly as she pulled her t-shirt over her head.

“Feeling better?”

She stood and slipped on her underwear. “Yes, much better thank you— oh.” The polished concrete was icy against her bare feet, and Roz skittered back on the bed, retrieving her socks from the floor.

“What?”

“The floor’s freezing.” As she rubbed her feet vigorously, she noted his clothes were still piled where he’d left them. “Aren’t you cold?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is. How come my room has heated floors, and yours doesn’t?”

“When Junelle expanded, none of the underground sections were updated. All the upgrades went into hydroponics, the recyclers, and the tower. Guest rooms are in the new area.” Nash’s attention was drawn back to the screen.

Roz fished her jeans up next and stretched out to pull them on. “What are you doing?”

“Catching up on the news. The militants struck again; this time it was a military train heading to Farlen Station.”

“Farlen? That’s close to the Seep, isn’t it?” She crossed the room, stopping behind Nash so she could read the feed as well. “Was anyone hurt?” Her brows furrowed as she studied the other content on the page.

Nash looked back over his shoulder at her. “No casualties this time, which is a miracle. According to this, they blew up the maglev track to derail the train. Reports state the parties responsible made off with medical supplies.” He turned the console off and swiveled his chair around so he could face her. “Hungry?”

“Why did you shut it off?” She raised an eyebrow, as they made eye contact again, “What site was that? I didn’t catch the name.”

“Uh... It’s just a tech site I belong to. It’s not official, but the news stream’s reliable—”

She’s caught you, the Sarcastic voice whispered. You’ve exposed the BBS. Won’t Evan be thrilled.

Shut up. Nash mirrored Roz’s expression back to her. “What kind of site do you think I was looking at? Porn?” It came out sounding sharper than he’d intended.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

Nash spoke first using a softer tone. “I’m sorry. It was just a tech site, and I shut it off because you’re awake. I’d rather pay attention to you,” he took her hands and held them. “Besides, if a porn site has to add a news feed to spice things up, they’re a lost cause.” He grinned, hoping to hear her laugh.

“Yeah.” Roz’s smile was half-hearted. “I should go and change; I’ve been wearing this since yesterday.”

“Are you alright? We can cancel if you’re not up to this.”

“I’m okay,” her eyes were unreadable as she looked down at him. “I’m looking forward to tonight. Will you dance with me?”

Nash raised her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Yes. I’ll try not to step on your feet this time.”

“I— I’ll message you when I’m ready.” Roz turned and quickly left the room.

“What— Roz, wait,” Nash stood to follow her.

The Darkness spoke. She knows you lied to her. Now she wonders what else you’ve lied about – She will leave you.

Nash halted mid-stride and paled as the words took root, resonating with his secret fear. Leave? Shut up. She’s just—

The Sarcastic voice joined in. Just what?... I’m surprised she lasted this long. You didn’t honestly think you’d be able to keep her interested—

You could see it in her eyes, the Darkness spoke again.

Enough! Nash shut the voices out and stumbled out of his room into the hall beyond.

She said she’d let you know when she was ready... Trust her. The Kind voice whispered.

But— Nash peered down the corridor in the direction Roz had fled. Gone.

Trust me. Trust Roz.

I trust you... both.

A wolf whistle drew his attention, and Nash turned to face the source. Three uniformed men approached, but he only recognized one of them.

“Captain Varga. Sirs.” Nash saluted the Korlo officers.

The captain saluted back then looked Nash up and down. “Best you cover up before you blind someone.”

The other two chuckled, as Nash flushed and looked down at himself. Aw, fuck.

Cheer up. At least you didn’t chase Roz through the station like this, the Sarcastic voice laughed.

“Thank you, sir, that’s good advice. Excuse me, while I follow it— Sirs.” Nash saluted again, and stepped back into his room, shutting the door behind him. I hope they don’t register an official complaint.

The Sarcastic voice rippled up from his subconscious. Don’t worry - Who’s going to believe a captain, a sergeant, and a colonel... It’s not as if there’s security feed they can use to validate their claim.

Shut up. Nash tuned the voice out and headed for his bathroom to get ready. He paused at his desk and stared at Roz’s photograph. I trust you. Nash picked it up, kissed it, and set it down with care.

*

Nash heard the buzzer over the sound of his shower. “Hold on,” he yelled. Soap ran into his left eye, and he quickly splashed it out. Damn, I’ve got two minutes’ left on the timer.

The buzzer rang again, followed by someone’s fist on the door.

“Keep your pants on.” Nash bellowed as he shut the water off. He grabbed his glasses, then a towel and dried his hair roughly as he strode to the door. He looked through the peep-hole, but the view was blocked by the badge someone was holding in front of it. Military police? The metal door was cold against his damp skin, so he used the towel as a buffer. I haven’t done anything. Please don’t let this screw up my leave. Nash pressed the intercom button. “Uh, hello Officer, or Officers. How may I assist you today?” He didn’t open the door.

“Are you Tech Nash X. Korpes?”

Shit. “Yes-sir. Is this about by my breach of the dress code earlier?”

“This is a private matter. I’d prefer not to have this conversation in the hallway. Will you open the door?”

Not without a warrant. “I— I can meet you in an interview room of your choice in ten minutes,” with a KMR and D rep in tow. Nash tried to read the name on the badge through the tiny aperture.

There was a pause in the conversation. The badge was replaced by a blue eye as someone peered back at him.

“C’mon, Nash, let me in. Please? People are starting to stare.”

It can’t be. Nash pressed the button to open the door. “Dylan!” relief flushed away the anxiety. “You bastard, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Dylan grinned back at him. “Sorry, I thought you’d recognize my voice sooner.” He leaned against the metal door frame and tucked his badge back in his pocket. “When I saw you were listed as staff here, I almost didn’t believe it. I— after what happened at Teslem, they wouldn’t tell us anything. I never thought I’d—” he looked down. “Find you.” He reached out and slid the towel off Nash’s shoulder and handed it back to him. “Here, finish drying off. I don’t want to be the reason you died from exposure. Can I come in?”

“Oops.” Nash covered up and gestured for him to enter.

“So, didn’t it ever occur to you to drop us a line and let us know that you were okay? All we got was gossip. Poor Davis still has nightmares about that day.” Dylan claimed a chair, as Nash returned to the bathroom.

“He does? Damn. I’m sorry to hear that. To set the record straight, I sent about a dozen messages from Ethos, but never got responses... I assumed that you guys just wanted to forget about the whole business— Ow.”

“What?”

“The ceiling in here is a bit low. I hit my head on the light at least twice a week. Getting back to the messages, I’ve suspected they were screening my mail, but I didn’t think they were blocking it.”

“Tampering with mail is illegal, Nash,” Dylan replied sarcastically. He looked around the small room taking note of the details of the sparsely decorated space.

Nash made a rude noise. “I’ve been writing my family weekly, for eight years, but I only hear back from my sister every few months.”

“You’re certain that’s odd? This is the same woman who saddled you with those glasses.” Dylan smirked.

“Contrary to your opinion, my sister adores me.” Nash emerged from the bathroom.

Dylan watched him as he sat at the console. “I heard rumors—”

“About my sister?” Nash spun the chair around to face his friend.

“Smart ass. About how long you were in regen, and the aversion therapy—”

“I heard you were in a coma. Is that right?”

“Yeah. My skull was fractured in four spots. They thought I was going to die, so they put me in suspension to work on me.”

“And Davis? You mentioned nightmares?”

“No external injuries, but he spent over a year in therapy. He seems fine now, but I think he blames himself.” Dylan noted Nash’s hands gripped the armrest of his chair, tightening until his knuckles went white.

“I’m so sorry.”