The Phoenix Code (14 page)

"You mean at Arizonix?"

"Phoenix is their android work?"
This
could be interesting.

Raj laughed. "Don't be a duck. Yes, Arizonix had a Phoenix Project. I never worked on it. MindSim couldn't have hired me otherwise. It's proprietary information. Even if I knew anything, I couldn't talk about it."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Know anything?"

"You're incorrigible, you know that? Besides, I never had a chance to do any work on the project. I was only at Arizonix for a few days."

Oh, well.
"Ander wasn't big on details."

"I'm not surprised." Glancing at the android, he added, "We should get started."

"Are you sure?" She indicated her console, where the glowing display read 3:14 A.M. "It's late."

"Do you mind?"

She felt too wired to sleep. "It's okay."

With a surgeon's skilled touch, he laid his palm on Ander's arm. "Let's go, then."

They opened Ander's chest in a seam that split down the middle of his torso. Seeing his bent skeleton made Megan wince. Silvery nanocircuit filaments sheathed his organs in well-organized lattices, though some were ripped by his broken parts.

While Raj examined Ander's torso, Megan opened his injured limbs. "Arm six, analyze his left leg," she said. "Arm one, do his left arm."

As the robots scanned Ander, holos of his limbs appeared like high-tech ghosts above her console, showing the damaged bones. Data scrolled across the light screens and three-dimensional graphs formed above the holo-screen. Similar displays formed on Raj's console for Ander's torso. New holos appeared showing the bones in the correct positions. When a correct holo merged with one showing damage, the resulting image blurred in places where the individual images were close but not exact. The twisted bones stuck out at odd angles.

She studied the corrections suggested by BioSyn. "Arm one, rotate the left ulna and radius through eighty-three degrees toward the A-two y-axis."

The robots moved their long fingers with a delicacy no human surgeon could match, a startling contrast to the massive arms that supported them. With their wireless links to Ander, they received continual updates on his condition as they manipulated his bones. His composite "bones" had both strength and flexibility; they suffered neither the breakage of more brittle materials nor the fatigue of metal alloys.

Megan spent an hour on Ander's arm, adjusting it until the damaged bones came into position. She had more trouble with his leg. Even after she straightened the limb, it had a slight twist. No matter how she untwisted it, another part of his leg moved out of alignment. The twist was small, though. She finally decided to leave it and see how Ander managed. If he had trouble, they would rebuild that part of his skeleton.

Whenever she took a breather, she watched Raj operate. He fixed the spine and rib cage first, then worked on the lubricant and sinus reservoirs, repairing torn filaments as he went along. Although she had known he had a gift for this work, she hadn't appreciated the full measure of it until now. Watching him was like seeing a virtuoso play the piano.

They had to do more than just make Ander work, they also had to ensure his repairs wouldn't give him away. He had to appear human even on close examination. His chest had to rise and fall, his veins had to show a pulse, his seams had to blend into his skin without a trace, and numerous other details had to fit. His disguise wasn't perfect, but it could convince many detection devices.
The operation drained Megan. It took over nine hours. When they finally closed up his body, the display read 12:33 P.M.

Raj rubbed his eyes, his motions slowed with fatigue. "I think he'll be all right."

"You work like an artist," Megan said. "It's beautiful."

"Thanks." He paused like a great, prowling cat who had spent his bursting energy on a night-long run across the plains. With unexpected gentleness, he asked, "Are you going back to your room?"

"Yes, I think so." She felt self-conscious, once again aware of him as a man rather than a colleague.

"I'll walk you back."

"Okay." It had been years since a fellow walked her home.

They did a final check on Ander and the lab, and left the LPs on guard. Then they headed out of the lab, worn out but satisfied with the night's work. As they made their way along the catwalk, Raj put his arm around her shoulders. A pleasant flush spread across her face, and she put her arm around his waist. During the operation she had forgotten she was only half-dressed, but with their arms around each other now she became acutely conscious of his body and her own. She could feel the muscles of his torso through the thin cloth of her nightshirt.

They exited the lab into the creatively named Corridor D of Level Two. On Corridor B, they stopped outside her room, still holding each other. Deja vu swept over Megan as she remembered Ander, and she shivered.

"Are you cold?" Raj tugged her around to face him, holding her at the waist.

"I'm warming up," she murmured.

He stroked her temple, a soft brush of sensation. "Do you know, your eyes are the same color blue as the alternate function key on my calculator?"

Megan smiled. "Ah, Raj. You're such a sweet-talker."

She wasn't sure which of them initiated the kiss, but they both melted into it, embracing outside her door. The touch of their lips was tender at first but then it grew more intense. She savored the way he held her, as though he had made a new discovery. He paused several times to look at her, his dark-eyed gaze sensuous. It not only aroused her, it also felt fresh, as if the two of them were new-minted coins.

Eventually they moved into her room. She stopped at the bed, though. "I can't. It's too soon."

Raj brushed back a tendril of her hair. "It's all right. Just knowing you're here is what matters." He intertwined his fingers with hers. "At night when I can't sleep, I feel like nothing is here, that I'm a solitary atom wandering in an empty underground warren. It's lonely."

The bleak image unsettled her. "You miss people?"

He hesitated. "I don't like being with people. Their personalities press on me. It's claustrophobic, not in space but—I don't know how to say it. In emotions? I need to retreat, to recharge. But Megan, I hate loneliness. Insomnia is even worse when you're alone, staring at the ceiling, unable to escape into your dreams." He paused, as if realizing he had said too much. "Now you must really think I'm crazy."

"Raj, no. This world we live in, it can make you think introversion is wrong. But it's not." Still holding his hand, she cupped his cheek with her other hand. "There's nothing wrong with your need for privacy. It doesn't detract from your capacity to care for people or your strength of character."

"Sweet Meg." He pulled her close, one arm around her waist, his other hand sliding from her head down to where her hair ended at her hips. Then he went farther down, caressing her bottom, his fingers tracing the curve through her nightshirt. A ripple of sensation spread through her body.

"You've incredible hair," he said, his voice husky.

She tangled her hand into his curls. "You, too." Mischief tugged her voice. "But your eyes most certainly aren't the color of the alternate function key on my calculator. It's orange."

His laugh rumbled. "You imp."

She held him close, with her head against his shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I had no idea you felt that way." He paused. "Of course, I usually have to be hit on the head with clues before I notice something."

Megan pulled back and tapped him on the head. "Hi. I'm a clue."

He turned on his devastating grin. Then he kissed her again. When he lifted his head, he said, "I can face the insomnia better tonight, knowing you're so near."

She almost invited him to stay. But she doubted she could keep her hands off him if he did, and she wasn't ready to go further. At least, her emotions weren't ready. Her body had other ideas. Then again, she was so tired she might fall asleep regardless of how either her mind or her body felt.

"Good night, Megan." His hands lingered on her for a moment. Then he let her go and headed for the door.

"Raj, wait."

He turned with controlled grace. "Yes?"

"If you would like to stay—I mean, not anything more, but if you don't want to be alone..." She stopped, feeling foolish. Real smart: show a man you like him by inviting him not to touch you.

"You're sure?"

"Yes." She sat on the bed, trying to relax, and laid her hand on the covers next to her.

Raj came back to the bed, and the sight of his tall form in her private room made her more aware of his contained strength. She found it hard to believe he was here with her.

Sitting next to her, he drew her into his arms. "Just to sleep," he said, more as if to remind himself than reassure her. "Let's lie down."

"All right." Then she said, "Lamp off."

Cleo, her console, recognized the command and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. They lay on the covers, Raj on his back, Megan against his side. He held her close and stroked her hair, then trailed his fingers down her arm, letting the heel of his hand move over her breast. Her nipple hardened in response. With only a thin layer of silk between her body and him, she almost felt naked in his arms. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips, all light touches, questions asking,
More?

Megan sighed and settled against him. She felt a sensual comfort in his presence and was glad he had stayed. He moved his hands over her and kissed her deeply, exploring her body as she responded to him. Her arousal was warming from a simmer to a more demanding heat despite her intent to hold back. He pressed his hips against her pelvis in a rhythm as old as the human race, and she felt him through the layers of their clothes. Tingles ran down her spine and spread lower.

Her mind finally released its weary focus on staying awake. In its place came the floating sensation that often preceded sleep, mixed with a tantalizing desire. It would be so easy just to lift her nightshirt and unfasten his clothes. But even as she pressed against Raj, returning his rhythm, her fatigue was winning. Neither of them had slept much in the last forty-eight hours. Their motions slowed as they kissed, languid in the dark, until finally Raj's hand came to a rest on her hip. Then he gave a soft snore.

With her last waking thought, she hoped the base was safe.
 

Megan opened her eyes to see Raj sleeping on his back. She wondered if her presence helped him sleep or if exhaustion had simply taken its toll. With his jumpsuit zipped only halfway up, she could slide her fingers through the curly black hair on his chest. He stirred under her touch, then submerged into slumber again. The dusky red light in the room erased the lines around his eyes and made him look younger.

Wait a minute. She shouldn't be able to see him. She had turned off the lights.

Megan rolled over—and saw a red light glowing on her console. She didn't want to wake Raj, so she got up and went over to the computer. Red spirals swirled on the screen, their paths determined by the equations of motion for a billiard ball on a pool table. She had written the screen saver herself, for fun. However, it shouldn't have come on unless something had kicked her console out of its quiescent state.

She touched the screen and the skyscape appeared. The usual icons floated among the clouds, including a clock that said 4:14 p.m. A horn flashed in the lower right corner, indicating e-mail had arrived on her emergency service, Megan frowned. Only a few people even knew how to contact her that way.

Sitting down, she waved her finger through the horn. A new holo appeared in the screen's center, a spider web with flames flickering at its edges. It meant "urgent." She flicked the web and it unraveled into a menu. A message overlaid it:
Don't activate the audio unless you are alone.

Megan glanced at the bed. Raj was still sleeping, his face and body relaxed. It felt good to see him there.

She turned back to the console and touched "Receive" on the menu. The screen blanked into a wash of blue. Then she waited.

A word formed in white on the screen: Interactive. The holo of a gold key appeared next to it, indicating a secured line. Megan frowned. This wasn't e-mail: by responding, she had called someone.

She touched the word Interactive. A picture formed on the screen, the head and shoulders of a man with gray hair. He wore a uniform with four stars on each shoulder. Megan stared at him. A four-star general? Good Lord, why?

As he nodded to her, a line of text formed at the bottom of the screen:
If you aren't alone, don't speak.

She typed at the keyboard.
Dr. Sundaram is here.

Can he see you?

No. He's asleep.
Embarrassed by the implications of that, she added,
We worked late.

The general didn't blink. He also didn't relax.
If he wakes, will he see the screen you are using?

No.
Her computer faced the door rather than the bed.
He'll just see me working. Why? Who are you?

Nicholas Graham, at the Pentagon. We have reason to believe you're in danger.

Megan wasn't sure what she expected, but that wasn't it. She didn't want to imagine what the Pentagon would consider serious enough to have a general contact her.
What's wrong?

Someone from NEV-5 broke into a network here. Among their activities, they searched all your files. Every detail.

How do you know it was someone here?

We traced their path through the Internet.

Megan glanced at Raj again, seeing his face free of its usual strain. Then she turned back to Graham.
You don't know it was Dr. Sundaram. It could have been me.

Was it?

No.
She doubted he would have contacted her if he thought otherwise. That they had some idea of who had done the hacking suggested they monitored NEV-5 more closely than she had realized. Graham didn't seem certain it was Raj, though. If some of the console chairs here had sensors that recorded weight, it would be easy to tell her and Raj apart based on that data, but not Raj and Ander.