Wounds (Book 2 of 2) by Ilsa J. Bick

Author:Ilsa J. Bick [Bick, Ilsa J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books/Star Trek
Published: 2012-07-13T17:35:15+00:00

Chapter

8

The rain had started six hours ago: a persistent drumming that was primordial and remorseless. Blate liked the way it lashed his windows, trying to break through, break him. Well, come, let it try.

He was strapping on his sidearm when his vidcom chimed. Annoyed, he looked at his screen, noting the time on a desk chronometer with his left eye while scanning the incoming call with his right: Kahayn. He punched his vidcom to life. “Yes, Doctor, what do—Doctor, what’s happened?”

Her hair was disheveled; a blotchy purple and brown bruise spilled over her right cheek; her lower lip had swollen, and a dark chocolate rivulet of fresh blood oozed from her mouth. Her collar was torn open at the throat, and Blate saw a livid necklace of fresh bruises. “Bashir,” she said.

“Bashir did that?” A very interesting development. He was surprised by the prisoner’s ferocity. Ah, but then, four days ago, Kahayn had taken it on herself to give this Bashir what she called a tour. One smashed window and a microscope damaged beyond repair later, she’d conceded defeat. “He attacked you,” he said, without inflection. Inside, he was…cautious.

“About an hour ago. Stupid, I thought I could still persuade him to cooperate. Anyway, Bashir,” she looked away, struggled for control, “he broke free. Backhanded me across the face, then went for my throat. Screaming something about some woman. A lover, I presume, someone who jilted him. The guards pulled him off.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

“We’re just lucky the guards didn’t do him any damage. But there’s no question now.”

“I’d say not. Only a guilty man struggles.” Bashir’s outburst was interesting, even puzzling. Why now? Because the ax was about to fall? Probably. He supposed even a spaceman could panic. He’d always regarded the fMRI as his trump card against Kahayn, anyway.

Because she’d never have been able to refuse, not in front of Nerrit, because then she’d lose control over the project. That would kill her. Because I know your mind, Colonel, and I have eyes, and they don’t miss much.

Aloud, he said only, “So you wish to proceed with the operation instead?”

She gave a curt nod. “When is General Nerrit due?”

“Four, five hours, I believe.”

“Give me three.” Her lips peeled back in a smile. Her teeth were stained light mahogany with blood. “You and General Nerrit can have ringside seats.”

“Very well, Colonel. But I want Arin there, too.”

She seemed to hesitate. “I don’t need an assistant.”

“Arin has always assisted you in the past.” Blate fingered up a slim radio from his desk and slipped it into his left trouser pocket. “I should think that past experience with Bashir would’ve sensitized you to just how…different he really is.”

“Good point,” she said. Her tone was neutral. “I’ll contact him.”

“No, no, I’ll do that. Oh, and Colonel…do wipe your mouth. You’re getting blood on your uniform.”

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