Deviation (13 page)

Jellison released her arm, but Kate didn't notice. She remained against the wall, gazing at the space where Reesa last stood. One very sharp fact taunted her from the closed hatch.

She was alone now.

There was movement around her, but Kate couldn't do more than grapple with the ominous hum in the back of her mind. The dots were no longer connecting. Something was very wrong. If these were Lothogy fans, why would they shove their author out of a hatchway? There was also an issue of time. It should have taken much longer for them to get from Washington State to Oahu, Hawaii.

If that was Oahu. It certainly looked like all of the pictures she'd seen.

When she finally managed to pry herself from the wall, Kate realized she had an audience. The other crew members had left but Hedric stood, unmoving, just beside the internal door. Under her feet Kate knew they were moving again, flying, the metal floor echoing the peculiar tilt and sway of the ship. More disconcerting, however, was the steady scrutiny that Hedric gave her.

She wished for a second that she'd just put on the damn robes.

"Mesa ... "

"Kate."

His eyes flashed with agitation. "Madame," he said instead. "We are headed for the Novo Femina Temple on Mars. Your obstinacies are about to become a safety issue." He gestured to a small bundle lying on the crate near her. "Space travel is hazardous and cold. You will need the uniform and robes."

Kate ignored the fact that he'd just announced they were heading to Mars and caught his mistake, "You can't believe I'm Mesa if you have to explain the hazards of space travel to me. Either Reesa wrote everything you know and this is a fictional adaptation, or I'm your dead wife. It can't be both."

"As I am standing in front of you, I can tell you that Ms. Zimmerman did not write fiction," he said calmly. "I don't know how it is possible, but it seems my mother managed to find a wormhole through time."

"What?"

"Like I said, I don't know how it is possible. We will have to ask her when we get there." Hedric nodded to the robes again. "If you refuse to put them on yourself, then I will have to put them on you."

The thought of him getting that close to her snapped her out of momentary shock; "Touch me and I will break every bone in your body."

Hedric smiled in response. "It might just be worth it to see you try."

Crossing her arms and lifting her chin, Kate glowered at him. If he advanced on her she could swerve left and kick him someplace important. She'd have to compensate for the crate, but she imagined that wouldn't be terribly difficult. Her mind played out the fight, targeting every soft spot on his bulky frame before he'd even moved.

Only he didn't move.

The aggravating man only smiled, long features crinkling up with his amusement. He shook his head and gestured to the pile of robes again. "Either put them on yourself, or I will drug you and put them on for you."

Kate's internal battle didn't last long. The only thing keeping her out of the robes was her own pride, after all. And the prospect of the man's hands wandering over her limp, drugged form seemed to outweigh her desperate attempts at holding to normalcy. And she wanted to stay awake.

With a hiss of irritation, she moved to the crate and snatched the garments up. "Fine," she said. "But you're not watching so step outside."

He turned to face the door and stayed there.

Staring at his back, Kate thought for a moment that she should have hit Reesa harder. She was in an impossible situation, with an equally impossible man who couldn't seem to find the right side of sanity. She missed home, her son, even her husband's greasy fried chicken. And while Reesa could not be blamed for the cult that followed her writings, Kate could and would blame her for essentially body snatching her person.

With sharp, unhappy movements, Kate started to don the robes.

***

The world was a clash of colors at sunset. There were times it seemed the sky battled the ocean for beauty, washing everything in the glow of orange and yellow long after the sun had crossed the horizon. The crescent shape of Scotland Bay gave him an open view of the nightly spectacle and since his staff knew not to disturb him while he walked the beach; Matthew Borden always spent this hour alone. The shale-ridden sand slipped beneath his feet, dragging away from him with the inexorable pull of the sea. White froth stuck to the hem of his pant legs, warm and peaceful in that malicious way that only nature could be.

If he ventured just three more feet into the water he could prove that. The ocean was over-populated, festering with life. The sort of non-discriminate life that man used to abhor, watching it on their archaic television sets rather than having to fully experience it.

The arrogance of what we used to be
, he thought and crouched to his haunches.

Another wave tumbled past him, rushing back just as quickly as it had come, crashing into the next wave climbing the shoreline. The near oppressive humidity of the island of Trinidad began to wane under the loss of the sun and a breeze he hadn't noticed before tickled the hair on his forearms. Borden Tower, built to run the length of the cliff face that outlined Scotland bay, cast a tall shadow over the beach. It was impressive by way of its girth rather than its height, silver blue windows glinting in the fading light.

Matt stood again, half-smiling in the delight of being home.

One lone figure made its way from the silvery building, headed directly for him and Matthew lost his smile. He recognized the lean, arrogant stride of his older brother and turned to face the ocean again. With a slow breath he gathered his calm, allowing the swell of the tide to assuage his nerves before he confronted David. By the time his brother had reached him, Matthew had found his focus.

"I've got better things to do than be hauled from station to station at your whim, Matt."

"Such as torturing women to death, I imagine," he said, feeling his anger flare again.

David rammed his hands into his pockets and had the grace to look abashed. Matt glanced at him, noted the navy-blue suit and tie, and prayed the humidity was taking its toll on the man. There was a gleam of sweat around David's pampered features and moisture stained the collar of his shirt.

Satisfied, Matthew turned away.

"They volunteered for it," David said. "I'm on the verge of a breakthrough, Matt. Two, three more months and I could ... "

"Start another apocalyptic epidemic." Matthew didn't bother reigning in his temper. The excited gleam in his brother's eye was too much. "Just how stupid do you think I am? Did you think I couldn't connect the dots here? You ask me for a private lab, I give you one. You ask me for funding, I cover half your expenses. But the minute I ask you for a report on what you're doing out there, what do you give me?" He didn't wait for his brother to respond; "A three year old carbon copy of an experiment you ran for the Delta Company on fish excrement."

David flushed so deeply he almost turned purple. Matt glared at him, wishing he really could strangle the bastard. It was clear to him that David wasn't insane, and that bothered Matthew more than he could admit. It would be one thing if he could write off his brother as eccentric or crazy, it was quite another to realize that David was inextricably tied to the Makeem. Matt stayed as far away from the religious factions in society, but it seemed that David had embraced the Loyalists.

"It won't be like last time," David said quietly. "I can control the virus."

"Viruses aren't controllable."

"I'm close to the cure, Matt."

"You're close to killing off the human race!" He saw David flinch but continued, praying that something he said made it through his brother's thick skull. "Do you even see the wrong in what you're trying to do? You can't just kill people off because you disagree with them."

"I'm not trying to kill them off!" David sounded truly shocked and took a step back. "Good God, Matt. Is that really what you think this is about?"

Matt took a deep breath and glanced out at the ocean. It was a relief to hear his brother still had a conscious, but that was cold comfort compared to the damage already done. He thought of Mesa Prosser and the Lothogy and felt his gut churn. Even if David tried to plead his case to the Community, the Borden Company would still be linked to the experiments done on Outboard Jupiter. Matt could deny all knowledge of the events - which was true - but that would leave his brother hanging dry with no support.

Their father wouldn't have cared. No, he thought as he glared at the watery horizon, father would have turned David in himself.

Maybe the old man had been right in stealing Matt away from his mother. Maybe Carmine Borden's gentle influence really had made him soft in the long run. Still, Matthew would not abandon his brother to the wolves, no matter how much of an idiot David had been.

"I traced your base files to the Makeem, David. I know they're the ones who started your research." He looked back to his brother. "Surely you can see where they are going with this."

David slumped his shoulders and stared at the sand. Matt could read the conflict in David's face. Yes, of course he knew what the Makeem were really after. Armed with a new strain of the Mavirus, the Makeem could wipe out every genetically altered female that didn't conform to their guidelines. Whatever justifications David might find for it, they both knew it was nothing short of genocide.

Matt spotted another form running down the beach and felt his eye twitch. "Now excuse me while I clean up your mess."

"You mean you haven't caught the Lothogy yet?" Real shock lined David's voice.

Matthew continued to walk away.

"What's the matter, Matt?" David taunted from behind him. "Losing your killer edge?"

He ignored his brother as the man approaching became clear. Baine's shorter, meatier frame stumbled a bit on the sand, but he lost no momentum and they reached each other quickly.

"The Lothogy?" Matt assumed.

"Yes," Charles glanced down the beach at David. "She went off the map for a bit. Trajectory says they made a brief stop at Australia."

David approached from behind him and Charles paused. There was a moment of uncertainty where Charles checked to make certain it was safe to continue speaking. Matt nodded curtly and Charles resumed his report.

"They dropped someone on Oahu and went off the map again," Baine grimaced. "Whatever scrambles they're equipped with are doing the job too well."

He almost smiled at the comment. The Lothogy was one of the most advanced ARC vessels around. It was a patchwork of many technologies, including Borden Tech Scramblers, sold several years ago before Matthew had made the connection between Alexander Keats and Hedric Prosser. He'd tightened his information network after that particular blunder.

The revenue of his business came from several sectors. Borden Tech was the most lucrative, but close on its heels was the military faction. Borden Field Arcs populated seventy-nine percent of Earth, sixty-seven percent of Mars and ninety-eight percent of Outboard Jupiter, making them the most available source of protection for civilians. The Scientific Community might grumble from time to time about the wide reach of the Borden Companies control, but since Borden Company was also the leading facilitator for all laboratories, the Community kept its grumbling to a minimum.

"They dropped someone on Oahu?" David asked, incredulous.

"Barely pulled the brakes," Charles nodded. "Hover drop."

"Why the hell would they do that?"

Charles shrugged, anxious green eyes glancing at Matt again.

Matthew grunted. "Rally the Fomorri," he said. "We're headed to Oahu."

"The Community met again today to continue discussions on the newest discovery of Anti-Matter Discs. Scientists have been working at finding a more efficient means to travel between Earth and the slow-growing Mars. After several failed experiments, top members involved with the project state that they have finally found a means to control anti-matter, allowing it to project itself through several plate-sized discs. This could prove instrumental in wormhole travel in the near future."
- A.P. September 13, 2257

Reesa felt her foot slip and caught herself before vertigo could take her over the ledge. She'd been to Oahu a handful of times, but this was different. She could recognize that she was hovering over Hanauma Bay, or at least the Bay she had created. When the quarantine was made and the sick women were sent to Oahu to die, the sliver of land caught between ocean and mountain had become the base of operations for the medical teams stationed here. It was remote, hard to reach on foot because of the dramatic incline, and offered the Doctors a small amount of privacy.

And it kept the medications safe. A sick woman could not make the trip down the road to try and steal more morphine.

Several large pits made pock-marks in the ground below her. They were overgrown with plant life now, but she recognized them for what they were. All bodies were burned in an attempt to erase the disease from the planet. As the population dwindled, the people continued this tradition until it was no longer considered sanitary to bury the dead. Reesa crouched on the ledge; the full impact of what she was viewing finally reaching her. Billions of women had died here. The vision she had made of the future was scarred into the land itself, echoing tragedy and pain and loss. Little girls, teenagers, mothers, grandmothers, all of them met their end because she wanted to write a good story. And it wasn't a peaceful end either.

Some women lost their minds with how painful it could get.

Reesa stayed there, unmoving, barely capable of breathing. Somewhere in the muddle of her shocked brain she remembered that the disease was not dormant. Not even after centuries of progression. Her lungs were taking in the virus. It had already permeated her skin, her clothes, her body.

Reesa let herself fall back, sitting on sharp rock because she could no longer balance on her haunches.

There was a cut somewhere in her scalp from her topple out of the Lothogy. Reesa had done what she could to staunch the bleeding and could feel the uncomfortable paste of matted hair against the wound. While she couldn't see how bad it was, the blood trail over her collarbone seemed to suggest it was substantial. Already in a shocked state of mind, she dimly wondered how much blood she had lost and if she was due to pass out anytime soon.