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Skull bolted upright. His head snapped left and right searching for her, but she was gone. He lay on the bed naked but for his Patek, which said he’d slept for two hours. Nanosilk armor and boots lay jumbled in a corner and the hard pieces of his rig lay scattered about the floor. His assault rifle stood, propped against the wall, magazine still in it. Other than these, the room was empty.
Quickly pulling on his jumpsuit and boots, he grabbed the rifle and – what now? He banged a fist on the place where the door should be and the second blow went through empty space, the wall irising to let him through. He stared from the opening across the main control room space, at the woman in the chair.
“What the hell did you do to me?”
Somberly she forced a smile, not meeting his eyes. “Shouldn’t I ask you the same question? It seemed like you were the aggressor, and you did things to me.”
“Did you drug me or...or pheromone me or something like that?”
“What, now I’m some kind of space-succubus that seduces Earth’s most eligible bachelors?” A weak laugh dribbled from her lips. “Yes, it was all part of my elaborate plan, the way we ended up here. Couldn’t you tell?”
“Then what the hell happened? I didn’t rape you.”
“Didn’t you? Are you sure? Methinks milord doth protest too much. And how should I know what happened? Half of me was an alien until a month ago and the other half was nearly a virgin, so I don’t have a lot of experience with all this! You should be telling me! Aren’t you, like, fifty years old or so?”
“Like, something like that,” he mocked. He walked over to sit down in the other control seat, placing his rifle against the wall away from her reach.
“And if that wasn’t rape it sure wasn’t making love,” she sneered, “not since I’m your hostage. What should we call it? Sexual abuse of power?”
“It wasn’t like that at all!” he yelled. “It was good! It was good...” He trailed off, to his own surprise caring what she thought, caring what anyone thought for the first time in many years. “Wasn’t it good?” he asked, uncharacteristically unsure.
She hung her head, her long dark straight hair falling over her face, hiding her expression. Mumbled something.
“What!” he barked, fighting anger and fear. What am I afraid of? Rejection? Why do I give a shit what she thinks?
“I said I don’t know. It wasn’t terrible. But it wasn’t fair!” Her face broke through her hanging hair, tears sticking strands to cheeks. “My mind said no but my body overrode it. That’s not fair. It’s not me, and it’s not...Meme.”
“Welcome to the human race.” Skull leaned forward, reaching tentatively toward her, stopping with his hands inches from contact. His fingers furled to fists. “I’m...” Taking a deep breath, he said, “I’m sorry. I think...I think both my mind and body wanted you, but I just don’t know why.” Plaintive. “This really isn’t like me.” Skull looked down at his right hand, opening and closing it convulsively. “I have no problem killing those that need killing, but I feel...” Refused to articulate the rest: ashamed.
Raphaela laughed, ironic. “Very selective, your conscience.”
“Stop that!”
“What?”
“Stabbing me when I try to say something real!” He felt cracks creeping through his emotional walls.
She stared at him incredulously. “What kind of conversation do you think this is? Is this a date? Did we just have make-up sex in the wrong order, so the fight is now?”
Skull glared at her. “I think you’re just feeling guilty and angry it happened and you want to blame me for it. Women never want to take responsibility for doing something improper. They want the man to do it so they’re free of guilt. Ooh, mom, he made me do it!”
“Wow, that’s some projection you got going. I do want to blame you for it because you’re to blame! You kidnapped me from the lab at gunpoint and forced me to pilot this ship off into space and then you took – we had – whatever you call it, what we did, and how can I help but be angry at you! And I feel guilty, yes, because I wasn’t strong enough to say no!”
Skull sat back, grasping the arms of the seat in frustration. “You’re right. You are human. No alien would be so damned...female!” He thrust upright, seized his rifle and stalked into the bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed-dais.
Rolling over, he stared at the ceiling. What the hell is going on? Who the hell am I? This isn’t me. Something is happening that’s messing with my head. Is it the nano? Is this what it did to JT? And the others, Section Three that suicided, I just figured they got too froggy and high on their abilities. But Huff, all that stuff I could hear him saying over the link, crazy stuff, I just figured it was for effect, to keep control of the situation, but maybe not.
His thoughts ran around in his skull like rats trying to chew their way out. Eventually he slept, fitful.
