Warrior (29 page)

“I know you have a great many questions. If you pass your tests, you'll get the answers you're looking for. If you don't . . .” An expression of anguish flashed across Charlotte's delicate face. “. . . well, you won't need them. For now, you're here, and that means you've come far enough to receive this next gift. Good luck, Jess.”

A rainbow blast exploded behind Jess's eyes, knowledge slamming into her mind so fast and hard, there was no way to process it all. Images, sounds, color—all blended in one seething mental detonation. Jessica's brain seemed to pulse under the bombardment.

But it didn't stop. It went on and on, burning, blinding. Until, in sheer self-defense, her mind went dark.

Galar shook his
head hard, trying to clear his dazzled vision and the ears that still rang from the sonic boom of his Jump. When he could see again, he first registered the bloody shambles of Jess's living room, with its tumbled furniture, paintings, and easel.

It took him a moment to realize the bundle of blue fabric on the floor was actually a body. Jessica, lying sprawled and still.

“Jess!” Galar's heart shoved its way into his throat as he dropped to his knees, scanning her frantically.

There were no obvious wounds, no blood, but that might mean nothing. A head injury . . .

Unconscious,
his comp replied.
She seems to be in some kind of shock.

There was no time to waste. Galar scooped her into his arms, cuddled her close, and Jumped.

He'd wanted to transport directly into the infirmary, but the delicate equipment there didn't take well to sonic booms. Instead, he materialized in the closest Jump chamber— heavily soundproofed and shielded to contain any temporal radiation. As he carried Jess through the door, he sent a message to the infirmary.
“Jessica's been hurt.”

“How badly?”
Chogan's voice demanded.

As he strode into the infirmary, the doctor met him and pointed toward an open and waiting regenerator. “What happened? ” she demanded.

“I don't know.” Galar lowered Jess carefully into the transparent tube. “I got a lead she'd gone back to the scene of the attack, sometime right after we left with her the first time. She was lying on the floor of the living room, unconscious. There was no sign of any attacker.”

He stepped back as Chogan closed the tube lid and started the program. The device began to flood with pink healing mist as the doctor studied readouts and pushed buttons. “Hmm.”

“What?” Galar demanded, frustrated.

“There's no sign of physical injury at all. But . . .” Her frown looked troubled.

“But?”

“Those brain changes we saw earlier have intensified.” She gestured, bringing up trids of three brain scans.

“Seven Hells,” Galar breathed. The scan with today's date was almost solid blue with new synapse growth.

“What's more, the ratio of alien material is increasing,” Chogan told him. “It's as if the Xeran DNA acted as a base to give the alien material a foothold.” She nibbled on a thumbnail, her brows drawn down in worry. “I don't mind telling you, Master Enforcer—I don't like this at all.”

“What's it doing to her?” A chill spread over him. “Do you think it's going to . . . hurt her?”

“I have no idea,” Chogan said bluntly. “Luckily her autoimmune system doesn't seem to be attacking the new material, so we don't have to worry about her body killing her own nervous system.” She returned her attention to the tube's readouts, frowning and pushing buttons.

Galar waited, controlling his impatience until she finally stepped back away from the tube. Was it his imagination, or had her expression lightened with relief? “Well?” he demanded.

“Physically, Jessica seems perfectly healthy. Exhausted, which isn't surprising considering what she's been going through the last few days. Needs a couple of good meals too. Her blood sugar's too low for my taste. Other than that, though, everything's fine.”

He blew out a breath in relief. “So why's she unconscious? ”

“Good question. Come to think of it, these readings . . .” Chogan's eyes narrowed. “Actually, they look rather like an EDI reaction. I've seen this kind of thing before with patients in the aftermath of a particularly traumatic download. Let me see if I can bring her out of it. . . .” Delicate fingers danced over the tube controls. The mist stirred, then slowly began to thin. Chogan popped the lid. “Jessica? Wake up, Jess!”

Jess's blue eyes fluttered open, and she began to cough. “What . . . happen'?” Her voice firmed as her gaze began to sharpen with its customary intelligence. “Dr. Chogan? Galar? Where did you . . . ?”

“Ruby told me you'd gone back to your house.” Galar took her hand and helped her sit up. “I went after you and found you out cold on the floor. What happened?”

Jess coughed again and leaned both elbows on the edges of the tube, looking a little dizzy. “I remembered Charlotte had said something about one of my paintings having the answers I needed. So I went back to check. Sure enough, she'd left some kind of nanobot message in the paint.”

Chogan shot Galar a look. “I wonder if that was all that was in that paint.”

“You think Charlotte slipped her something that accelerated the neural changes?”

“Could be.”

Jess frowned at them both. “What the heck are you talking about?”

Chogan displayed the brain scans for her. Galar watched her pale in alarm. “Holy shit.”

“That about sums it up,” the doctor agreed, then went on to explain her findings in more detail. “The good news,” she concluded, “is that you seem healthy otherwise. So far you're not suffering any ill effects, but I want you to keep me posted on anything—and I do mean anything—that strikes you as weird.”

Jess gave her a dry smile. “Like blowing up robots with the power of my mind?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

She snorted. “Believe me, you'll be the first to know.”

Galar scratched his chin thoughtfully. “What did Charlotte actually say in her message?”

Jess shrugged. “That she was sorry about what she'd done to me, but we both had tests we had to pass. That we had to prove ourselves.”

“Prove what? To whom?”

“Exactly what I was wondering. Unfortunately, she didn't say. Then she triggered this . . . psychic bombardment. It was like the EDI, but worse. Knocked me out completely.”

“Do you remember anything about it?”

Deep lines grooved between Jessica's fine brows as she seemed to struggle to remember, then shook her head in frustration. “Nothing I can make any sense of. Just . . . this wild confusion of colors and smells and sounds.”

“If it's anything like a regular EDI, your brain will have to incorporate the information you've downloaded,” Chogan told her. “Give it time, and it'll start surfacing as you integrate it.”

“Assuming we
have
time.” Jess gnawed gently on a knuckle. “I have an ugly feeling everything's getting ready to go straight to hell.”

Galar snorted. “You mean it's not there already?”

“Yeah, the concept of this getting worse boggles my mind, too, but that was the implication of Charlotte's little psychic candygram.”

“Candy what?” Chogan looked puzzled.

Jess sighed. “Never mind.” She turned to Galar as a new thought occurred to her. “Please tell me you've found out Ivar was your mole. And is Dona okay?”

“She's fine. And yes, we did. Unfortunately, no sooner did we put Ivar in the brig than someone sent a team of exploding battlebots to break him out.”

She blinked at him. “Exploding battlebots? That sounds . . . not good.”

“That's putting it mildly. We now have craters in the brig.”

“Anybody killed?”

“No, but Ivar escaped. Dyami has dispatched every available Enforcer to track him down. I almost pity the bastard when the chief gets his hands on him.”

“I wouldn't mind a crack at him myself.”

Galar curled his lip in agreement. “I owe him for Jiri and Ando.” Something dangerous flickered in his eyes as his voice dropped to a menacing growl. “And you.”

“So what do we do now?”

“That's a good question.” Chogan rocked back on her heels, eyeing Jess. “I could keep you here for observation, but I think what you really need is some food and a good night's sleep. Charlotte's EDI would be more likely to surface if we give you some peace and quiet—which you won't get in an infirmary bed with various things beeping at you all night.”

Jess grimaced. “That's a pretty safe bet.”

Chogan aimed a stern look at Galar. “That goes for you, too, Master Enforcer. How long has it been since you've slept?”

He blinked. “Well . . .”

“Go. To. Bed.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said with suspicious meekness.

“What are you waiting on? Get out of my infirmary.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jess and Galar chorused as he helped her out of the tube. Together, they made a fast escape as Chogan shook her head and went to search out Dyami to make her report. She knew the big Warlord wasn't going to be happy about this situation.

At all.

16

The Outpost's cafeteria was deserted at this hour,
since it was between the mid-watch's dinner and the late watch's early-morning meal. Galar and Jess had the dining area to themselves, so they found a choice table beside the enormous window that took up most of the room's rear wall.

Stifling a yawn, Jess stared out over the moonlit mountains, listening absently as Galar put in their order with the table's vendser. Five minutes later, a panel slid open and two steaming plates appeared, accompanied by the appropriate flatware and a couple of glasses. Galar parceled everything out and they settled down to eat.

Jess paused, fork lifted, as she stared down at her plate dubiously. She couldn't identify a single substance on it, though she thought the purple thing with fronds was some kind of vegetable.

“It's safe to eat,” Galar told her, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I promise it won't even bite back.”

She poked a dark brown substance. “Are you sure? What
is
this?”

“Vardonese
keflir
. It was my favorite meal when I was a boy. My father's
keflir
was incredible.” He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. “This isn't quite that good, but it's not bad.”

She warily cut a forkful and bit into it. It was covered with something that had a nutty kind of crunch. The meat inside flooded her mouth with delicate juice and a taste reminiscent of lamb. “It is good.” Emboldened, she tried the purple thing. It wasn't much like any other vegetable she'd ever had, but she decided she liked it anyway. She turned her attention to a fluffy green pile with little red bits scattered inside it. “Kind of slimy,” Jess said after a bite. “Reminds me of boiled okra. You could probably fry it though. . . . Then again, Southerners can make anything edible by breading it and covering it in ketchup.” She forked up another bite of purple frond.

“I never liked gedira either,” Galar admitted. “But it's good for you.”

She snorted. “It would be.”

They ate in companionable silence for several moments before Galar spoke again. “I wanted to apologize for what I did to you.” He stirred his fork through what was presumably some kind of vegetable, his expression brooding. “Those things I said. I know I hurt you.”

Jess looked up from cutting another bite of keflir. “Dyami told me you were trying to clear me.”

“Yeah.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “But there was more to it than that. Tlain . . . Who told you about her, by the way? I know somebody did, because you threw her name in my face.”

“Ahhh. . . .” Trapped, she stared at him, remembering she'd sworn not to rat out Riane. But if she lied, he'd know it. “I promised not to tell you.”

One corner of his mouth curled up. “Never mind. I think I can guess. No wonder Riane and Frieka looked so guilty when they slunk out of my quarters the day I asked them to guard you.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Jess said with dignity.

He snorted. “Please.”

She gave up and grinned. “There's a definite downside to”—
loving
—“dating a man with sensors. No little white lies.”

“Never stopped Tlain. Then again, big black lies didn't stop her either.”

The bleak, angry pain in his eyes made her draw in a sharp breath. “You really did love her.”

“I thought so at the time.” Galar shrugged his broad shoulders, then gave her a faint smile. “Lately I've come to a different perspective on that.”

Her heart leaped. What did he mean by that? Don't ask, dammit. “Ria— My source said she did quite a number on you.”

“You could say that.” His gaze turned inward. “She had a computer implant, so she had pretty good control over her own brain function. Gave her the sociopath's trick of believing her own lies.”

“Ivar must have done the same thing.”

“Oh, yes. Otherwise we'd have tripped to what he was doing soon after he arrived at the Outpost months ago. Dona said she'd noticed he used his implant constantly, even in casual conversation, which should have been a big red warning flag. But I can't blame her for only seeing what she wanted to see. I committed the same sin.”