Sanctuary (Jezebel's Ladder Book 3) (29 page)

“Red, he deserves a trial,” Zeiss
said from above.

His wife answered, “The only
advocate we have is frozen in that box. What do you say we make a deal: if she’s
dead, so is he?”

Mercy ignored the byplay. “I talked
to Dr. Auckland. Our new theory is that whenever an Active is exposed to the
radiation entering subspace, it triggers symptoms similar to page reading. Z, Auckland said you could tell us what everyone’s side-effects were without violating any
oaths. What was Toby’s reaction to his first page?”

“Paranoia, delusions, and
erotomania. He’s so introverted, no one else noticed. Yvette caught it and treated
him off the record for about ten weeks. Red didn’t want anything in the file—to
prevent him from getting scrubbed from the mission.”

“Thanks for that reminder. I’m
willing to open the issue to a vote this time. Do you really think Yvette’s
going to want to see him again?” asked Red. “
If
she survived?”

Herk said, “Her mouth is taped. You
don’t bother with that if the person is dead or even unconscious.” Risa pulled
back from her husband. “What?
I’m
not the monster here. I’ve just
studied criminals.”

Yvette had probably been awake
through the whole thing—weeks worth.
Out of breath, Mercy crouched on the
floor, cradling her injured hand.

“Ask Toby how she is,” Yuki said.
“He can’t lie anymore.”

“Please, it hurts,” Toby begged.
“Like a drill bit in my brain every time someone asks.”

“He’s infected with Ethics—of
course,” Zeiss realized.

Red said, “Because he rejected
Collective Unconscious so much, the reformatting may have been slowed, but that
doesn’t explain why he hasn’t confessed already.”

“He has . . . in a way,” Yuki
admitted. “I think he carved the letter R—for rapist—in his side like that
Dimsdale freak Mercy told me about.”

Red pulled up the man’s shirt to
reveal the ink-soaked injury. He had been making his own tattoo, and the wound was
inflamed from constant scratching.

Yuki opened up a little more,
lowering her voice. “He may have confessed some . . . smaller things to me, but
I just didn’t pay attention. He’s been coming down here regularly to ask her
forgiveness ever since he started reformatting. I thought it was grief.”

“Auckland cross-trained in
psychiatry, but he won’t be as effective as Yvette,” Zeiss said.

Red’s face was frightening as she
suggested, “I think I should question him about everything that’s happened
since the mission started, in
detail
.”

The biologist squirmed and whimpered.

“A complete confession will
actually help him,” Zeiss said. “He has to make amends or the poison will only
build inside him. However, I don’t approve of torture.”

Yuki offered, “Maybe we freeze him
until Yvette recovers enough to help him, or until someone can build a
replacement arm for me.”

“He blinded the man you love,” Red
said to Mercy. “You have a say in this, too.”

With all eyes on Mercy, she said
meekly, “Lou will decide about the crime against Lou. Toby roofied me to cover
his lies and abused Snowflake. I’ll take away all his computer access to be
safe, but Toby isn’t beyond repair. I have to believe that. Despite what he’s
done, the doctor saved Auckland and Yuki. We need him if we’re ever going to
see Earth again.” Tears rolled down her face. After a long silence, she added,
“The charter provides all of us with the opportunity for a second chance. If
we
want one with Sensei, we have to give Toby one.”

Looking down, Mercy noticed the cut
in the back of her hand. He’d connected with her after all. The blade had been
so sharp and the pain from her fingers so distracting that she hadn’t felt the
cut until salt from her tears stung the wound. “Oh, that’s going to need
stitches.” She fainted soon after. Fortunately, she was already close to the
floor.

Lou could sense when Mercy was on her way back to the camp,
even from kilometers away. He decided to surprise her. First, he gathered some
flowers from the arrangements in the cafeteria to scatter petals on the floor
of her bedroom. Then, he discovered beeswax candles. He couldn’t find a way to
light them, but decided he’d receive credit for just having the props there.
Now, he just needed music. When Mercy brushed aside her fabric door, he whipped
away the sheet to reveal himself in the Speedo. Belting out his best Rod
Stewart impression, he sang, “If you want my body . . .”

Mercy was speechless, but the two
people with her applauded.

Oleander said, “If I still carried
euro bills, I’d stuff a few in there for you.”

“I can loan you some paper cut to
the right size,” Sojiro offered. “He won’t be able to tell the difference.”

Lou found the sheet again in a
hurry.

“I’ve never seen him blush before,”
Oleander noted.

“I’ve heard that homophobic men are
secretly afraid that gays will treat them the way they treat women,” Sojiro
explained.

Lou shuddered, sitting down from
queasiness.

Whispering, Mercy asked, “Guys,
could I have some time alone to talk with my husband?”

Sojiro objected, “But you were
telling me all about Oprah’s mansion.”

“Later,” she sang.

Oleander led the artist away, and
Lou heard the door flap flump into place again.

“Hi,” Mercy said, and she
brightened the room for him.

He patted the mattress beside him.

She sat and found a place under his
arm, but pulled away when he tried for more. “Not for a few days, maybe a
week.”

“Still sore?”

“That’s part of it, but mainly I
can’t stop thinking about what happened to Yvette. I don’t want to associate
those images with you—ever.” Mercy proceeded to tell him everything they knew
about Toby.

Lou took the news about the cause
of his sight loss calmly. “I guess I shouldn’t have pushed the guy so hard.”

“What? He burned out your sight,
your dream, what you studied your whole life to be.”

“Look, I’m not saying he was right,
just that I understand. He viewed you as
his
prize, and I moved in to
steal his pretty young thing.” Of course, he’d jumped out bedroom windows for
women and climbed over rooftops more times than he could count. A certain base
commander’s daughter, in particular, came to mind. “If some Lothario started
making love to you in front of me, I’d react violently, too. I’m grateful he
left my testicles. I was out long enough that he could’ve done anything.”

“Pretty young thing, huh?” she
demanded. This earned him a brief kiss, as sweet as new wine. Under influence
of this Beaujolais, his hand drifted down to her behind, but she blocked it.

“You truly have only one track,”
she observed. “If our relationship is going to last, we have to find something
else to do the other twenty-three hours of the day.”

“Twenty-two,” he insisted, his
pride stung. “Minus eight for sleep. I’ll help you with the chickens, and we
can both be together in the kitchen.” He nuzzled her gently. “If we take hour-long
meals, that leaves only five hours.”

“Mmph. I asked . . . um . . .
Pratibha if you could take over pottery, and she approved. But there’s not much
demand—only about an hour a day to handle our cups and storage vessels, at
least till the olive harvest.”

“That leaves four for fun. I like
when you read to me. You tell me how much you love me without sex.”

She kissed him again, longer. This
time was a more mature wine—a Cabernet.
A man can get drunk on kisses. Who
knew?

“Okay,” she agreed. “An hour a day,
but we have to share some time with others.”

“Two hours, and you can read after
dinner as group entertainment. I know Sojiro will come to hear you do all the
parts.” When she resisted, he said, “It’ll be practice for our children.”

“I suppose I could start with a
theme like
Little House on the Prairie
.”

“And
Swiss Family Robinson
,”
he suggested.

Mercy kissed him a third
time—champagne. He felt the burn all the way down. “Only two hours left,” he
gasped.

“What?” she mumbled in confusion.

“The math homework you’ve been
making me do.”

“Oh. I’ll finish that before class
tomorrow. You’ll get an A. Hold me.”

Feeling the warm place behind her
ear and
not
devouring it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
Knowing the sweetness that would follow when she eventually initiated the act
made it possible to wait. The idea that she knew so much about him and still
chose to lie here at his side made anything worth bearing.

She liked to put her forehead to
his, feeling a connection almost as deep as when they were joined below. After
an hour of this touching, Mercy said, “We sent a message back to Earth, just in
case. I signed forms to make my name change official.”

Lou grinned. She kept finding new
ways to say she loved him, and it felt incredible. He’d have to find some
different ways to tell her. This was all strange to him. Red would know what to
do—she was a girl. That would be awkward. Maybe Zeiss could give him some
pointers. Mercy was still talking about something; he had to pay attention.

“I also gave permission to allow
your parents a seat on my foundation’s board.”

“Foundation?”

“A little charity I have in Brazil,” she mumbled.

“How little?”

“Um . . . not all of it is mine,
but Red estimates the potential assets at close to a billion.”

Lou was having trouble breathing.
His bank account at home had three thousand British pounds in it only because
he’d sold his favorite Ducati racing motorcycle to pay off a few loans and
bills before the launch. He always paid his debts. All his numbed brain could
ask was, “How close?”

“Maybe as much as 1.2 billion.”

Mercy had to find a fanny pack for
him to breathe into before he hyperventilated.

When he was calmer, he offered, “Do
you want me to sign a prenuptial?”

“A little late for that.”

“I will.”

“Just promise me that before you .
. . move on to another woman, you’ll have the courtesy to tell me first. Tell
me if you ever feel that I’m not enough.”

“I’d have to be an idiot. I insist
on putting that in writing. If I ever cheat on you, I will give back every
dollar and wear a sign that says I am an ass.”

“Just like
Much Ado about
Nothing
.”

“What your voice does to British
literature is wonderful. Every boy would be an English major with you as a
teacher.”

He could hear her blush as she
answered, “Maybe we could cross-train as teachers, for our own children as well
as others.”

“It’s not like pilots actually
spend much time on duty. I’d like running a school with you. I’d learn a lot.”

“Speaking of which . . . Red wants
you to try the interface again now that you have senses again. I told her not
to push because the last session under the helmet hurt you so badly.”

He laughed. “If your computer pad
burned your hand, would you give up reading?”

“No.”

“I love flying almost as much as I
love you.”

“You talk too much,” she said,
kissing him like Everclear.

****

Lou didn’t shave the next day, but
Mercy trimmed his hair and beard with instruction from Oleander—a skill from high-school
vocational training. The scout offered to do the haircut properly, but Mercy
refused. “It’s too intimate to let another woman do.”

His hair probably looked like hell,
but he felt like a million dollars . . . or a billion. He couldn’t even
comprehend economies on that scale, not even for planes—forty fighter jets. He’d
married a bloody aircraft carrier. No, the whole assault fleet. If he screwed
this up, his friends and family would kill him. Not having to worry about other
women in bikinis distracting him helped—that’s why he always had to wear
sunglasses on dates. Having Mercy at his side was even better; she calmed him.

He didn’t notice the journey until
they reached Zeppelin Point.

Mercy whispered, “I made a third
domino setting for you and heavy cargo—an elevator. Hold onto me, and don’t
wander off.”

“Not a chance, angel face.”

In spite of his easy claims, the
return to the command center made him nervous. His stomach flopped, because the
last time he was certain that his mistake had nearly ended the mission.
Whispering to Mercy, he said, “Stay close. I don’t want any mistakes,
especially when I can’t see the choices Snowflake offers.”

“Oh, Yuki helped us on that one. It
turns out there’s a sound option. You just have to ask for it.”

When they reached the top and
strolled onto the patio, the air smelled like Sirius Academy after the daily
deluge—relief and eagerness to fly. “Red?” he asked, knowing that she had broadcast
her emotions. He’d never sensed them like this before.

The other pilot ran forward and
greeted him with a hug. “Lou! I’m so glad you could come up here. You don’t
have to rush into this.”

“On a day like today, it would be a
sin
not to fly,” he replied.

She laughed and hugged him again.
For the first time, he felt her soft side. He caught the barest glimpse of her
true identity. “Mira,” he said. “It wasn’t your fault. Thank you for bringing
me on this . . . adventure.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” No one seemed
ready to go inside to the zero-g area, and what that may reveal. Until they performed
the test, both outcomes were still possible.

Changing the subject, Mercy asked, “How’s
Yvette?”

“Weren’t you there for her thaw?”
Lou asked.

Red answered, “We wouldn’t let
Mercy stay because the risk to her pregnancy was too high. Z didn’t want to add
more pressure in case Yvette had something wrong. Mercy had already fainted and
needed stitches.”

He turned to his wife. “You didn’t
mention that part.”

Mercy asked, “Did Yvette have
anything wrong?”

“Nothing . . . permanent,” Red said
diplomatically. “Maybe a scar or two from the straps. Her first questions were
about you, Mercy. She wanted to make sure you were safe from Toby’s predations.
When we explained about the baby, Yvette was happy for you. I think shepherding
your pregnancy will help her to heal. We did tell her one lie, though. She left
several clues around Olympus, certain you’d find one of them and free her. We
didn’t tell her we banned you from the place almost immediately. Feeling that
the clues had led to her release made Yvette feel stronger, empowered.”

“Of course,” Mercy said. “I’ll talk
to Yuki and get more details. Where’s Yvette?”

“With Auckland. She can’t stand the
sight of Olympus right now—too many bad memories.”

“Where’s Toby?”

Lou heard Zeiss from the doorway.
“In the freezer, at least till we talk to Sensei.”

Sighing deeply, Lou said, “Hey,
boss. I guess it’s time I stopped goldbricking and get back to work.”

“You always were a little too fond
of that hammock.”

“Yeah, well the wife beats me with
the ropes if I get too uppity.”

“That never happens to anyone
else,” Zeiss said wryly. When Lou heard someone punch Zeiss for the comment, he
knew his coworker had made the transition from Mira back to Red again.

Lou pushed through the door and let
Mercy float him to the gel couch. She offered to strap him in, but he waved her
off. “I’m blind, not incompetent.” He felt her light dim, so he added, “But I
do need a kiss for luck.” Ah, a cocktail of crème de menthe, flavorful but with
the promise of a buzz later. She was his favorite bartender.

Fortified, he slid under the helmet
again. “Hello, Snowflake. Sound on.”

“Hello, Pilot, Mercy’s Mate.” The
synthetic voice sounded like a child’s.

The interface really had bonded to
his wife like the chicks had. “Call me Lou, please. Show me a view of the
nearby planet Alcantara and
Sanctuary
—gravity map.”

The image appeared in his mind in exquisite
detail, including the gradients, the easiest way from point A to B. Instead of
hours or days, he could plot a course by the seat of his pants. “Thank you,” he
said, but the response couldn’t express the depths of his gratitude.

Snowflake interrupted his musings.
“Lou, the rules you all gave on entering the airlock are now my rules. Will you
answer some questions?”

Were they training their expert
system or was it the ethics enforcer?

“Certainly,” he replied.

“You were wronged by Watcher, Mercy’s
Helper Three.”

“Yes. Designate him Toby.”

“Affirmative. What punishment do you
request for his offense?”

Lou considered this. A few weeks
ago, he would’ve crushed the bug-loving freak. Now, he wanted the mission to
succeed more. He considered how he might explain this to a child, not a stupid
one—the way his child would need to hear one day. “Toby is unbalanced.”

“He still violated his oath. Is he
a virus?”

“No. He did hurt me, but in a way,
he did it for my own good.”

“Explain.”

“He knew that I had a problem—I
relied too much on my eyes. This incident helped me to find other ways of
seeing. Without his intervention, I never would have . . . bonded with Mercy.
In the end, I can still do my job, and my quality of life is vastly improved.”
He felt Mercy holding his hand supportively.

“No punishment, then?”

“None, other than the Ethics page
reformatting that he’s already received.”

“Would you recommend this eyesight treatment
for all pilots?”

“No!” Lou snapped. “As I said, Toby
was imbalanced.”

“May I speak to Mercy friend two?
The female who was held against her will?”