Vick is… well, it’s complicated.
I ONLY have flashes of the events that occur during our escape from the Klenar Facility, Germany, and finally, Earth. Vick’s implants might no longer be an AI, but the technology surpasses most of what’s out there. From what Vick tells me, we have no trouble obtaining fake identities and boarding a shuttle off world.
I’m in and out of consciousness throughout the journey to wherever Vick is taking me. Recovery from emotion shock is a slow process. But our destination doesn’t matter. All I care about is that I’m with her. She’s alive, and we’re finally free of the Storm’s hold over us.
We move from a small sleeping compartment on a sketchy transport company’s passenger shuttle to a private space yacht just for the two of us. Vick settles me comfortably in the single stateroom while she pilots us to points unknown, coming in and out only to scan my vital signs, feed me, and catch a few hours of rest here and there. During that time, we sleep curled around each other, her love flooding my senses and healing us both.
When at last I awake fully rested and it doesn’t hurt to lower my empathic walls, I’m in a different bedroom. Rough-hewn log walls surround me, and for a moment my breath stops with the thought that I’m back in that storage shed where VC2 held me captive. But no. The bed beneath me is soft and warm, a huge king, the frame also made of natural wood logs and a headboard carved with a variety of furred foresty herbivores and carnivores prancing across it. The quilt covering me is patterned in rustic shades of reds, greens, and browns. I push it off to find Vick’s dressed me in plush black pajamas covered in multicolored glittery stars and wonder how embarrassing it must have been for her to go shopping for that. The thought makes me smile.
A single lamp glows on a chest of drawers across from the bed, and a mirror casts my too pale complexion back at me. Not entirely healthy yet, but I’m getting there. I swing my legs off the side of the bed, placing my feet on a thick faux-fur rug in blacks and grays, and test my ability to stand.
My limbs hold my weight. I pad across the dark hardwood floor to one of the two windows and pull aside the deep green curtains.
To my surprise, it’s night here, wherever here is. I lean as close to the glass as I can, pressing my nose against it and startling back at how cold the surface is. It’s winter. That’s for certain. Or maybe not. I might be on a world farther from its sun. I’m in a two-story log structure, this bedroom being on the second floor, and it’s surrounded by tall, dense pines. Some decorative external lighting gives the house? cabin? a soft ethereal appearance like something from a romance novel. I can’t see much beyond that.
Then the overhead clouds part and two full moons shine down on the scene, taking my breath away.
Sparkling snow covers the grounds around the cabin and weighs down the branches of the thick forest of pines. In the distance, I can just make out a lit open space with a single private landing platform, our space transport resting upon it. No other homes or structures of any kind as far as I can see.
One of the shadows below moves a bit, drawing my attention—Vick, standing on a wide rounded wooden deck, leaning with her arms crossed over the railing and staring into the peaceful darkness of the woods. She turns her head toward the shaft of light now cast across the snow from my window, then glances over her shoulder up at me and raises one hand in silent greeting.
I wave back, more enthusiastically, bouncing on my toes and giving her a wide smile, which earns me one in return, though there’s sadness in it, too, and I remember that she’s gained her freedom but lost a friend. I wonder if VC1 will ever return.
Vick strolls toward the cabin, disappearing from my view. A moment later a door on the ground floor opens and closes. Heavy booted footsteps come up what must be wooden stairs, echoing throughout the structure. She opens the bedroom door and pauses, leaning against the door frame, scanning me from head to toe as if she’s memorizing every inch of me.
Then she’s crossing the floor and taking me in her arms, pulling my body against hers as if she’ll never let me go. Her padded olive-green jacket is cold, but I slip inside it, letting my plush pajamas warm her through her simple black T-shirt and black trousers. All new clothing. I have no memory of her leaving for an extended period of time, so either she had things delivered, or I’ve been more out of it than I realized.
“You’re better,” she murmurs against my hair, which, now that I think about it, smells clean, along with the rest of me.
“Yes,” I agree. Then, “Did I shower at some point? Or did you find a way to bathe me? I don’t remember.”
Vick leans back to study my face, worry creasing her forehead. “You showered. You insisted on it, so I held you up while you got clean, both times. It was one of the few coherent things you asked for in the last four days.” She sighs, exhaustion and concern evident in that single exhalation.
Okay, now that she says that, I do have vague memories of wanting to scrub away the touch of VC2 and the blood and gore of that final fight.
I rest my head against her shirt, taking in all that is Vick: the hard muscles, the way she holds me to her as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear, yet gentle in her grasp, the tantalizing scent of that simple cologne she sometimes wears. “I’m okay. Really.” Four days is the longest I’ve ever been in emotion shock, and that scares me a little. I probably needed a medical facility. But I understand her hesitation in taking me to one. If the Storm gets ahold of us, they’ll replace her loyalty programming, maybe even make it more restrictive. Choosing between my health and our freedom must have been horrible for her. “You made the right choice,” I say. “I promise, I’m going to be fine.”
Another sigh shudders out of her and the muscles in her shoulders relax. Her arms loosen their desperate hold. “You sure you’re not telepathic?” she asks, not for the first time.
“There are no true telepaths,” I remind her, giving the same response I always give to that question, then add, “but I’m starting to wonder if, with the brainwave match, the two of us might be the first.”
Instead of the laugh I expect, Vick fixes me with a serious look. “There are things in my head you don’t want to know. Ever.”
I don’t have a response to that. Instead, I ask, “How are you holding up? And where are we? It’s beautiful here.”
“Deci,” she says, answering the second question first, which doesn’t surprise me at all. “Any part of my income the Storm didn’t take back as repayment for my implants and continued medical care, I turned over to VC1 to invest as she saw fit.” Vick’s lips curve in an embarrassed little smile while a soft pink suffuses her cheeks. “Turns out she was quite the entrepreneur. I’m fucking loaded. And I own investment property on four different worlds.” She releases me to spread her arms out, indicating the whole cabin. “This is one of them.”
“She had good taste,” I muse. “Romantic too. Are the others the same?”
Vick shrugs. “Don’t know. Haven’t looked at them yet. There might even be more than four. There’s a whole file of financial data to go through. I’ve barely had a chance to glance at it while I was taking care of you and making sure we’re safe.”
“And are we? Safe, I mean.” A shiver passes through me that has nothing to do with the cold outside. Vick is still property of the Storm, with or without her loyalty compunctions. And she’s an illegal clone. Those two facts make for a lot of potential enemies.
But instead of stress and anxiety, Vick’s emotional aura reflects calm contentment. “We are,” she assures me. “A lot has happened in four days. I’ve been in contact with Secretary Hothart back on Earth. She’s more than a little grateful to me for saving her daughter’s life, twice, and she’s added her voice to your mother’s petition to have me declared legally alive and human by Earth’s laws. It hasn’t officially passed yet, but they expect it to go through in the next One World session. That means I’ll be even wealthier, once I inherit my father’s Earth holdings. Won’t fix my issues on Girard Moon Base, but it’s a start. It also means—” She pauses dramatically. I glance up. Her eyes are alight with joy. “—we can marry for real, legally, on Earth.”
“Oh!” I hug her again, bouncing up and down in my excitement. “We’ll invite everyone! Mom and Dad, Lily and Tonya and Michelle. Not too many, just an intimate gathering. I’ve always wanted an elegant, romantic wedding.”
Vick laughs. “Well, I’m not sure how well I’ll do at ‘elegant,’ but I’ll try my best.”
“You always do.” I reach up to stroke her cheek. She leans into my touch, wanting, needing, and I detect a different set of emotions building within her, desire at the forefront of them, stirring my own. “And your… other issue?”
Vick’s grin is wicked. “One World wants to keep human cloning as secret as possible. Apparently, there are some very important, high-powered people looking to make use of the process if they can ever resolve the memories issue. Genetics transfer. Knowledge and memories still don’t. Not without implants, and no one in their right mind wants to go through that.” Vick pauses, taking a deep breath. “But it’s still illegal, even on the moon. They’ve explained away my ‘double’ at Klenar as some really good plastic surgery, and my name’s been cleared back at Girard Base. But the One World government has told the Storm board of directors in no uncertain terms that if the Fighting Storm pursues me, tries to force me to come back to them, they will reveal the Storm’s cloning research to the moon’s legal representatives. It’s all a delicate dance, but the negotiations are holding. For now.” She cups my face in her hands, looking deeply into my eyes. “We’re safe, so long as we never go back there, so long as I never set foot in their jurisdiction again. I assume you’re okay with that?”
I nod. “I’ll miss Lyle and Alex, but yes, I’m okay with it.”
Vick grins again. “You may not miss them for long. I’ve talked with them too. When their current contracts are up at the end of the year, I’ve invited them to come work for me. I’ve got an idea for opening a private security company—Torrent Protection Services.”
Torrent. Vick’s real last name. I wonder if she’ll go back to using it or if it’s just a memorial to her father. Either way, she won’t be retiring and settling down. I never expected she would.
“And we might be getting Robert as well,” she goes on.
A wave of relief washes over me for the injured OWL. “He made it, then?”
A shadow of darkness passes across Vick’s face but quickly disappears. “Yeah. His injuries were pretty severe, though. He’ll mostly recover, but he won’t be OWL quality. I think he’ll fit in great with us. I just need to convince him.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” I say, patting her arm.
A comfortable silence falls while we continue to hold each other. Vick breaks the stillness with, “So, you’re better. A lot better. Right?” Her tone is a study in casual calm, but my empathic skills pick out the urgency beneath the words and I laugh.
“Yes, much. Definitely up for… whatever you’ve got in mind,” I say, lowering my voice to a sultry purr.
A shiver passes through her, and I feel her heartbeat pick up speed through her thin T-shirt. Instead of a verbal response, she leans down and presses her lips to mine, conveying everything in one desperate kiss.
“Let me give you what you need,” I breathe when we come up for air.
“Oh no,” Vick whispers, her eyes dark with want. “You’ve been giving me that since the day I met you. Tonight, I’m going to do everything in my power to give all of it back.”