Freehold (68 page)

"A large part of her problem is the cultural perception, that somehow she has been grievously hurt by this. The physical injuries from the rape were actually not bad, compared to say, the damage to her face and left knee. The psychological injury shouldn't be that bad—she was unconscious for most of it, although there is still sensory input while unconscious.

"Her greatest trauma comes from having not put up a fight. She's a rated master in unarmed combat and this made her feel totally helpless and insecure. That we can deal with. And it ties in to the cultural perception again—you may have noticed that most people here have trouble using the word 'rape.' Which is not to say that it is wrong for it to be considered a disgusting crime, but there is a lot of emotion attached to just using it."

Kendra asked, "So what about the attitude I grew up with? That you accept that it happens, but doesn't demean you? That the real loser is the attacker?"

Wuu ran a hand through her thick silver-black hair. "Not being demeaned by it is healthy. Realizing that the attacker is lashing out against his own insecurities is healthy. But I have a fundamental problem with accepting that it happens. It
is
a terrible thing.

"The problem between the two of you is that she rightly perceives it as an act thoroughly insulting and degrading in intent. Her attackers were telling her that she was merely a thing to vent frustration on, in a very intimate fashion. You perceive it as revealing their helplessness and rage at the situation. You are both correct. But you both need to see the other side of the equation."

She continued, "I'm not suggesting you should feel as violated by your attack as she does by hers. You obviously are coping better in that regard. But you should consider that the
motive
of the attackers was to degrade you thoroughly, to show contempt for you.

"Now, legally, rape is awkward in the Freehold. Without an actual criminal code, it is hard to quantify the damage done in financial terms, as with robbery, arson or even murder. The victim is left alive, frequently with only minor physical injury. What is the loss? This runs into collision with the moral outrage at the concept. It happens rarely here, because this
is
a more civilized society. Its rarity and the higher standards of personal responsibility make it far more offensive. So we juggle the minor legal issue with the huge moral issue.

"As far as the two of you," Wuu said, "Marta sees that you are coping better, ignoring that her circumstances were far different, from her perspective, than yours. She knows you have been through this before with very minor post trauma. She finds this offensive—it indicates unconsciously to her that she is not coping, that you are stronger and that she is even less in control because of that. It would be easier if you couldn't sympathize, because then she wouldn't have to see you dealing with it.

"Now, shall we talk about your feelings?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap.

"Oh, that way madness lies; let me shun that."

—William Shakespeare,
King Lear
 

"I'm coming with you today," Marta announced the next morning. Kendra was drained from the therapy session and felt sure Marta was also.

Surprised by the comment, Kendra warily said, "Rob's not really in shape for guests."

"Why not?" Marta asked. "He knows me better than he knows you."

"Yes, but . . ." Kendra began. "He's very confused. I'm not sure we should do this. Especially since he has no control over himself. It could be bad for you."

"I'm a battlefield trauma medic. I've seen some thoroughly disgusting things. If he's merely having tracking problems, I can handle it. Really," she insisted. "Are you trying to keep me away?" she asked, a bit accusatorily.

"No," Kendra replied.
But I don't want to see you get hurt.
This was not good. She couldn't tell Marta why without bringing up her recent gang rape, which she didn't want to do. Nor did she want to keep her away. But there was no way to hint at the reason. She spent the rest of the trip hoping for some convenient way to call Doctor Rostov and warn him. There didn't seem to be a way.

As soon as they arrived, she insisted on checking in with Rostov. She explained in a very few sentences as she led him out for introductions. "This is Marta," she said. "She wants to visit Rob today." She hoped he'd get the hint, having heard some of Marta's story.

Frowning, Rostov shook his head and said, "I have to advise against it." He looked at Kendra and she shrugged back. Marta said, "What's the problem here? I'm as close as Kendra and I want to see him. If he's not comfortable, I'll leave. As far as me being uncomfortable, I'm a professional. Now can we stop wasting time?"

Rostov reluctantly agreed and Marta headed for the ward. Kendra followed, noting that he made a quick call for help. She met Marta at the door and said, "Let me go in first."

"Sure."

Rob greeted Kendra as she entered. "Hi!" He hugged her and kissed her as usual. His eyes still had that vacant look. She turned him away from the door as Marta slipped in.

"Feeling better?" she asked, gripping his wrists.

"Mostly. Except for a fight with a weolk a few segs ago. That is an hallushination, right?" he asked, concentrating and looking unsure. He rubbed his eyes.

"As far as I know," she agreed. She'd kept his attention focused on her as much as possible and felt a sinking feeling as she said, "I brought someone else," and pointed.

Rob turned, paused for only a second and shouted, "Mar!" He gathered her in a hug, wrapped a hand in her hair and kissed her deeply. She stiffened momentarily then made herself relax. As he pulled back, she looked happily at Kendra.

Rob was moving, urging her back against the wall. She looked concerned at first, then increasingly scared as he pinned her against it and began kissing her neck. He pulled at her pants and she convulsed in panic, grabbing for his hands as he reached in to fondle her.

Her terrified scream staggered him back. He hopped around, confused and crying, and Kendra caught him. She helped him sit on the floor, then turned to Marta, who was curled in a fetal position, whimpering. Medics swarmed into the room and moved to assist.

"I
told
her it was a bad idea!" she insisted to Lou Rostov. "Why wouldn't she listen?" Tears ran as he took her hand and guided her out. "No," she protested. "I've got to help them!"

"We'll help them," he assured her. "Right now you need some support yourself." He steered her to an empty office and into a seat.

"Listen," he said. "Right now, she's trying to pretend that everything is normal. His reaction is within the parameters of the condition and she knows that, technically. But she saw it from a personal viewpoint, not her professional one."

"I should have stopped her," Kendra said, breathing deeply to calm herself.

"I doubt it would have helped," he said. "Had you brought up her . . . assault, it would simply have made her determined to prove you wrong."

Nodding, she asked, "And what about Rob?"

"He'll bounce right past it. Remember: nothing is real to him right now. It's all part of a dream." She nodded in understanding.

"Speaking of which," he said, "we are ready to try some treatment. We have a tailored enzyme which should attack the nano, and a nano of our own to normalize the chemical levels in the brain."

"Wow. What did that cost to concoct?" she asked.

"We haven't figured that out yet," he admitted. "But the military is covering it and there are other victims of the same agent. And it wouldn't be an issue; our veterans get treated no matter the cost."

"When do we start?" she asked, nervous.

"Tomorrow morning at three. Bring a book or something," he advised. "Hopefully, most of it will be boring. Bring spare clothes—it may get messy."

Kendra took several segs to recover her calm. Despite any words of reassurance, she felt responsible for Marta's collapse. And the next day wasn't going to be pleasant.

Rob was sitting on the bed and kissed her as she arrived. "Hi, sexy," he said, grinning. He brushed a hand across her left breast, sending momentary shivers through her. She squirmed slightly and redirected his hand.

"We're here to work today," she reminded him.

Rostov cut in with, "Lieutenant McKay, do you understand what we are about to do?"

Turning to face him slowly, Rob stared through him, seeing something besides the psychiatrist. "You're going to try to treat me with a tailored nano."

"Good," Rostov agreed. "And you consent to this treatment and to Kendra being here for support?"

"Shure," Rob slurred, grinning. "Gotta be better than adrigamij with a petrowheeler."

Nodding as if understanding, Rostov directed, "Hold out your arm."

Rob made no response as the cold liquid carrier dissolved through his skin, taking the submicroscopic devices with it. Rostov left, and he and Kendra talked as it gradually took effect.

Rob suddenly strangled and retched. Kendra gripped his shoulders, hoping it would be a short incident. He recovered and sat slowly back up. "That . . . was not pleasant," he said.

"What was it?" she asked.

"You ever suck snot out of a goat's nose?"

Kendra's throat clenched tight. A sudden mental connection made her recoil in horror. She forced herself to regain control and swallow. "My God, dear, is that what you're seeing right now?"

"No, not seeing it," he replied. "I was doing it. Or thought so. It was the lumpy bits. . ."

She tuned him out and pretended to be listening. He suddenly clutched at her and pulled her tightly to him. He whimpered and gasped, eyes closed, seeing some inner demon. Then she felt a warm wetness seeping through to her thigh.
Oh, trif,
she thought.
Well, that's why I brought extra clothes.
 

She stayed with him for three days. He slept little, she less. His reactions indicated hallucinations affecting every sense and strange realities that only he was privy to. She napped in a chair when she could and subsisted on cold leftovers and water, the food she'd brought completely forgotten. She hoped it was less draining for him, as she took a moment to stare at her red, gritty eyes and sagging face in the metal mirror. A quick rinse with water didn't help much. She moved back to comfort him, as he twitched in his sleep.

Finally, Rostov came in and motioned her to follow. He closed the door behind her and said, "Go get some rest. We aren't having the results we wanted."

"Can you tell why?" she asked, sinking lower at the news.

Shaking his head, he replied, "It should have had some effect by now. We are missing something. I'll let you know."

She wandered home, driving aimlessly to clear her thoughts. Then she spent a long time soaking in a hot spray. She dressed in loose clothes and went downstairs, where Marta was cooking. When Marta hugged her, she reciprocated and accepted a light kiss.

"How is he?" Marta asked, serving up some stew.

"Not better," Kendra admitted, feeling tired again. "They're running some more tests." She began crying. "I
hate
seeing him like this! He's trapped underneath, but can't get out."

Marta pulled her closer and said, "They'll manage, I'm sure. It just takes a while."

Kendra looked up. "How are you doing?"

Nodding, Marta admitted, "Better. It isn't a torture session to talk about it with Carla—Doctor Wuu—anymore. She seems to think that my training and background make it easier for me to disassociate it."

"Glad to hear it," Kendra said.

"Are, uh, you up for anything this evening?" Marta asked nervously, gripping Kendra's shoulder.

It took a moment for the words to register. "You mean . . . romantically?" Kendra asked.

"If you're comfortable with it," Marta said hastily. "I feel bad about this, but I'm glad Rob isn't here. I couldn't handle a man right now. But if you . . ."

I am not the slightest bit interested in sex with anyone right now. And I would far prefer a man. "Sure."

Marta grabbed her and kissed her hard and deep, surprising her with the strength of the response. She kissed back, allowing sensuality to control it.

Marta poured a drink—wine only, and stopped after the one drink. Kendra took that as a good sign. She leaned back and accepted a leg massage while studying Marta for signs of distress.

"What?" Marta asked when she caught her.

"Just seeing how you're healing," she said, not quite a lie. The scars on her face were rapidly fading and the swelling retreating. There was still some bruising and discoloration, and it would be weeks before Marta's teeth regrew from the forms placed in her mouth. Her leg, ribs and shoulder were gradually regaining muscle tone. From the outside, Marta looked better. Her eyes were still furtive and lacked the intensity and brightness they'd had. Hopefully, that would return in time.

Upstairs, Marta undressed. She'd taken to wearing clothes for sleeping since her attack and rarely was nude at all anymore. Her figure was still spectacular, even with her meek body language. She slipped into bed and waited for Kendra.

Kendra followed suit, wanting her to be at ease. She snuggled up alongside and accepted another kiss with a bit more enthusiasm. "What would you like, dear?" she asked, leery of doing anything to upset her.

"I just want your presence," Marta said. She was running her fingers over Kendra's throat, shoulders and breasts. Kendra nodded, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the touch. She concentrated on the gliding caresses, and felt her skin tingling. Lips brushed hers again, very gently, and she felt her mouth melt into another kiss. It grew in intensity, and she let her own tongue glide over the exposed skin of Marta's throat. She reached out a hand.

Marta tensed then relaxed, but she took Kendra's hand firmly in her own. She carefully drew it around behind her, and tugged to indicate it should stay there. Kendra tried not to tense herself.

She felt Marta's fingers drifting over her ribs and down her belly, and moved her legs slightly. The questing hand sought her thighs, then slipped between them. She stiffened and Marta simultaneously relaxed, flowing against her. Marta's fingers gently teased her, and they locked lips under a fall of heavy black hair. Nothing was said for long segs.