Deviation (36 page)

"Mr. Baine."

"Yes, Sir."

"Launch the MRD's at the Citadel."

Charles' jaw dropped a fraction and then lifted into a purely wicked smile. There was a gleam to his eye as he turned to his controls and relayed the command. Though the MRD's were not fully tested and functioning, Matt knew that they were good enough for the job at hand. And even if they malfunctioned, the Citadel would be damaged beyond repair in the resulting explosions. The risks, however, was that some of those MRD's could fling back and attack the Balor, which would then kill several of his people instead.

Matt turned and focused on the Citadel. He heard and felt the shake of the Balor under assault but did no more than watch the fist-sized hologram before him. He saw the MRD's as they approached the great ship and started to pray. Saw them each detonate just before the Citadel's hull and held his breath.

They would work.

They had to work.

Because he was tired of this mess and he wanted to get back to Reesa.

Twenty-three seconds later the left half of the Citadel collapsed into itself, crushing down like paper origami under the weight of space. The right side imploded next, leaving a snaggle-toothed shell of a ship in his view. He waited one moment more, watching to see if any of the MRD's floated back toward them but it seemed the distance between their two ships was sufficient.

The command center let out a breath of unified relief.

So did Matthew.

With one nod at the decimated Citadel hologram, he made for the doors, his mind already switching to Reesa. "Contact the Makeem and let them dock for repairs. Inform them that I will brief them as soon as I have ascertained the status of my wife."

No one got in his way. Matt could feel the drugs of the Anti-Bact wearing off, pain tingling through his back. He knew that at some point he would have to let the doctors fix him. At present, however, he preferred that the bulk of them be tending to Reesa.

He was forced to slow his pace as he reached the medical floor. The corridor was crowded with injured personnel, their faces blurring in his vision as he continued his trek to the quarantine unit. He was aware of a sort of remorse for the pain he spotted on a few of the faces but was too intent on reaching Reesa to focus on it. There would be time later to dwell on the costs of the day.

When he reached the quarantine his stab wounds were alive with pain. Pulsating, intense pain that left him gasping as he waited for the decontamination timer again. With a long step over Hedric's body he entered the quarantine, dimly aware of the two doctors huddled beside Reesa's prone form. There were many machines hooked to her and the beautiful, healthy glow he was accustomed to had faded under drugs and stress. But he recognized that she was still alive.

The doctors looked up as he entered.

"Report."

"We had to resuscitate her twice. She seems steady now but Doctor Borden had started her on her final treatment of the MCV1 and we don't know how she'll react."

"How long until we know for sure?" Matthew finally looked down at her face. The tube was in place, secured around her pale mouth. Her pallor was unhealthy white and her eyes were circled with dark bruises. At her graceful neck he could still see the finger marks left by Hedric's violence and for a moment Matt wanted the man alive again. Just long enough for Matt to kill him a second time.

"Maybe twenty-four hours."

With a slow, quiet movement he brushed her temple with the back of his knuckles. Impossible emotions crowded his mind. He hadn't had a moment to breathe since she'd entered his life, much less reflect on his own actions toward her. There was an instinctual need to have her close by; he'd recognized that after their first night.

"Is she stable enough to move?" He asked.

"Well, yes but ... "

"But?"

"But sir, the Makeem are docking. General Erid will be expecting to speak with you."

He lifted his gaze and met the man's eyes. "What is your name?"

"James. Doctor James Lammon."

"Doctor Lammon," Matt turned to half-sit on the bed. "If I have twenty-three hours and forty-eight minutes left with my wife then I will be spending it at home. The Makeem can wait."

The first time Kate woke up they were in a wormhole. She couldn't feel her body and imagined that was more blessing than curse. Through the fog of medicines, Kate recognized that they were on board a different ship. A fancier ship. And Myron was purring his appreciation of the vessel into the sleek little cockpit. She wanted to ask what had happened but her eyes closed again and she was gone.

There was nothing but a black void between her waking times. As though she were under some kind of anesthesia, she thought when she roused for the second time. She'd only been under anesthesia once, when she was seventeen and had her wisdom teeth removed. She hadn't liked it then and she didn't like it now.

The screen showed Myron docking with a space elevator, looking confident and relaxed as the steel cable took control of the ship. The sight of his familiar face struck her heart and Kate felt tears overwhelm her. She let them go, still too drugged to care about being embarrassed. The homesickness was so deep, had been held so tight during the last traumatic set of days, that it was a physical pain in her chest.

"Oh, you're awake." Myron turned to face her. When he spotted that she was crying his expression became distressed. "God, did the numbing agent wear off already? They said it would last another four hours."

Confused, she merely blinked at him as he bolted out of his chair and fished in a nearby bag for something. He pulled out a small case and moved to kneel in front of her, procuring a syringe and frowning at it. Kate spotted the neat stretch of bandages covering her chest, thick and stark against her tattered space suit. Realizing that he meant to drug her again she hunted for her voice.

"It's not ... that," she said.

Myron paused and looked up at her face. New understanding came to his eyes and he sighed, settling back on his haunches. He cupped her cheek in a tender motion, his calluses lightly scraping her skin. His thumbs wiped the tears from her face and he drew intimately closer.

For a moment Kate closed her eyes and prayed for Ben. Not Myron but Ben to be there; Ben's voice murmuring comfort to her, Ben's mouth covering her own, kissing her with soft, unutterable care. She felt his tongue against her lower lip and opened to meet him, tasting heat and man and she faltered, losing sight of Ben. The kiss deepened and it was Myron, all Myron, and in her confusion she thanked God that she still couldn't feel her body to move. She was afraid that, given the choice, she would embrace the man rather than stop him as she should.

But then, she was kissing him back and she knew it.

For the long trip down the space elevator there was nothing but his mouth, scarred and devastatingly efficient. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew he was thinking of Mesa. The wife of his former Captain, forever out of his reach, and her heart ached for him.

It was not cheating, she thought sensibly, if both parties were thinking of someone else.

And given the resemblances, she was fairly certain Ben could forgive her.

If she saw him again.

A loud clank reported that they had reached the bottom of the elevator and they shared a shaky breath. Myron pulled back, meeting her gaze without the slightest hint of remorse.

"Sit tight, Kate." He tucked hair away from her face. "I'll get you home."

She watched as he took the controls and began flying. They crossed unfamiliar mountain ranges, some of them so deep green that she almost wanted him to stop the ship. Something as beautiful as that deserved to be savored, in her opinion.

Myron brought them closer to the ground and their momentum smeared all the colors in her vision. It was so dizzying she had to close her eyes. When she opened them again they were over the ocean.

Without warning, Myron tipped the ship into a vertical climb. Kate was jostled against her seat and for a moment, as she stared out at the cloudy sky, she wondered why she wasn't frightened. A move like that would normally scare her - she disliked flying in general - but she could only manage to be dazed and impressed.

It must be the drugs, she thought.

Just as suddenly as the climb began, Myron thrust them back down.

"Let's pray the underwater systems work on this beauty," he said.

Kate swallowed her questions. The ocean came at them so fast she was afraid she might vomit. Without meaning to, she held her breath and focused on his hands. The muscles in his forearms were taut with strain, keeping a commanding hold on the two flight sticks set into the dash. He flipped a switch with his thumb and several shots reverberated through the ship.

They hit the churning waves at a forty-five degree angle and submerged. Kate breathed again and tried to acclimate to the sensation of being no longer airborne. Throughout the ship motors were hard at work, shifting and clanking, and she imagined it was transferring to the underwater systems.

That made sense, anyway.

A moment later Myron let out a long whistle; "I have got to get a ship like this."

Kate clung to the armrests of her chair and tried to control her breathing. On the screen she could see that Myron had piloted them under water and her heart was trying to keep up. She had no idea how she hadn't noticed the mass of sea life when they'd first arrived but she saw it now. Large bodies of fish, great movements from huge whales crowded in the ocean and threatened to squash their ship.

When they dove into the underwater cave she was almost relieved. But then it, too, shrunk in size until she was certain they would hit a wall or something.

A moaning sound tore through the ship and Myron swore. He continued to swear as he launched the anti-matter discs, throwing the whole vessel into sudden acceleration. Kate flinched at the smear of colors on the screen, still drugged enough for the rainbow to hurt her eyes.

Wormhole, she realized. That was how they'd taken her. But wormholes did not exist in Earth's atmosphere, did they?

She scowled. Science was a headache and if she was going to die, which was very probable, she didn't want her last thoughts to be puzzling through physics. Or astrophysics, or whatever.

The momentum came to an abrupt halt and water exploded from just under Myron's seat.

All of the computers flickered.

Myron tore his seatbelts off and leapt from the chair as electricity spiked around it. Another leak sprung just overhead and the cockpit began to flood. Kate could feel enough of her body to know just how frigid the water was but couldn't summon the strength to move. She watched as Myron splashed to her side and ducked to mess with something under her chair.

Then he jumped into her lap and smacked a button just beside her left hand. His sodden, awkward weight pressed heavy against her as bright light flashed everywhere and a sudden, echoing roar filled her senses. Myron held tight to her, his cheek cold and wet, obscuring her view. She was able to see enough in her peripheral view for her stomach to lock up with fear.

The cockpit shredded to pieces, propelling out and away from them as a wide bubble-dome encompassed her seat. It began a slow ascent through the water and Myron finally breathed.

"Life Support System," Kate murmured. "L.S.S."

He grinned at her. "You did read the books."

She gave him a tired smile.

She heard a light popping sound and water started a slow drizzle into their bubble.

"Damnit," Myron glared up at the little hole. "They aren't designed for two, Kate. We'll ride her up until we can't anymore and then we'll have to abandon her."

"How long can you hold your breath?"

"Long enough. You?"

"I'm back in the 21st Century, right?"

"Theoretically, yes." He smiled and winked at her. "I'm a pilot, not a scientist."

"If I'm in the same time zone as my son, then I can hold my breath for as long as I have to."

Myron glanced up at the leak. "See, this is what I like about you, Kate. Your unassuming boldness. You look like the sort who wouldn't hurt a worm but you've a hidden bite to you."

She felt the water pooling at her feet, climbing toward her ankles. Through the thick, foggy material of the bubble-dome she could barely make out the blue of ocean surrounding them. She almost asked how deep they'd been when the ship exploded but stopped herself. Her bravado needed to be ignorant of that detail when they abandoned the bubble. After coming so far, she couldn't allow despair to take her, even if she couldn't swim in her current state.

All of her muscles refused to work. She could feel her skin, certain sensations in her chest like her rapid heartbeat, but was otherwise useless. This bothered her a good deal since Kate preferred to have control over her body, but since she knew the tree had nearly killed her she didn't complain.

"Get ready." Myron took a deep breath and procured a knife from somewhere around his left leg.

He glanced at her face, unhooked her from the seat and grabbed hold of her belt. With a wink and grin he counted to three and stabbed the bubble-dome. Water surged into the small space, cold and harsh and fast. She lost sight of him as she had to duck her head from the thrust of sudden water. She took one last gulp of air before everything was submerged and started to pray.

Dirty, salty seawater filled her mouth. The muffled rush of bubbles surged around them. Myron's grip on her belt yanked her through the small opening he'd made in the bubble and then he was swimming, dragging her in tow. He was admirably relentless, pushing them both for the surface, his lean legs making powerful kicks just beside her.

Her lungs strained with the need for air. She exhaled when the pressure got too great and tried to crane her neck toward the surface. Or at least toward Myron. She had no idea how far away the surface was. When she could see nothing but the deep blue of ocean she closed her eyes and summoned Quinn's face again.

In the agony of the moment she thought of the doctors handing her son over. She remembered his precious little weight in her arms, solid and warm and alive. His perfect baby mouth puckered up and his very blue eyes barely opened to look at her.