Season Of Strangers. Kat Martin
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vital signs were strong, but just as before, they had begun to shut down the moment they started their assessment of the brain.
A row of symbols came across the glowing blue screen. Is it happening again? The message came from the viewing area where senior officers and staff watched the proceedings.
He confirmed it was so and watched the corresponding symbols pop up on the screen. The last similar case had occurred six months ago, an artist taken from the hills outside Santa Fe. Over the years, there had been quite a number, from a variety of different backgrounds. Neither race nor gender seemed to be a factor in the degree of resistance, which could result in the subject’s mental incapacitation or death.
More questions appeared on the screen, one in regard to the proceedings.
Yes, he replied, the tests have been stopped. We don’t want to lose another subject.
He turned to the short lab technician and ordered him to finalize the tests on the younger sibling, to complete the external examination of the older, and return them both to the point of origin.
The screen on the console began to flash another communication, countering his orders. You must proceed, Commander. We must discover the cause of the older sibling’s reaction. We cannot afford to let her go.
He had known his superiors would want to continue, no matter how dangerous it was. Probing the outer boundaries of scientific knowledge was the first directive of their mission, one of the reasons others had come here before. It was an accepted fact that furthering that knowledge inevitably demanded a percentage of casualties.
But Val wasn’t prepared to lose the woman, or any more subjects in the future.
He turned back to the screen. There is another, better way. We have the technology. Why should we not proceed?
The symbols flashed in rapid succession. Such an undertaking would be dangerous. Who would take the risk?
He logged in the reply he had thought long and hard about. I have been working on this project for years. I am the logical choice.
The Ansor cannot afford to lose its most valuable research officer.
All men are expendable in the name of science. It was a basic tenet of their work.
The screen went blank. He waited with less patience than he usually displayed and even a hint of anxiety.
The recommendation will be made to the council at our next session.
Relief filtered through him. He didn’t want to see the woman die, and ever since his arrival three years ago, he had hoped for a chance like this. I am grateful for your assistance.
A long line of symbols appeared. I hope you will still be grateful once you are confined in such an uncivilized environment.
Four
Pain. Excruciating pain. Julie felt the throbbing, pulsing ache well up from the deepest part of her brain.
The slatted wooden blinds over the bedroom windows were closed, yet tiny cracks of light seeped in, stabbing like white hot rays behind her eyes. The hot, damp skin across her forehead felt stretched and swollen as if it might burst. Her lips were dry. She moistened them with her tongue. Nausea threatened, a reaction to the incredible pain in her head.
Julie rolled to her side, her small hands fisting the pillow, her teeth biting into her lower lip. It wouldn’t last much longer. It never did. No more than a couple of hours. The brief duration made them bearable, and the fact she had never had them until these past few weeks.
Perhaps it was some sort of virus, an illness that was fleeting. She could stand the pain, if only she knew the cause.
Knew for certain the headaches wouldn’t get worse.
A second hour passed. Her body lay on the sheet bathed in perspiration, but the pain had begun to recede. She felt limp and drained. It was nine o’clock in the morning. She was late for work, had already missed the weekly office meeting. She wished she could just stay in bed, but headache or no, she had to go in. There was too much to do, too many clients who depended on her.
Another fifteen minutes and the last of the vicious migraine—the worst she’d suffered so far—had ebbed away. Julie gripped the pine headboard, used it as a lever to swing her legs to the floor and ease herself up off the bed. As she passed the mirror over her dresser, she paused, took in the dishevelment of her hair, and the pallor of her face that made the freckles stand out across the bridge of her nose. She headed into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stepped in before the water got good and hot.
Perhaps the test Dr. Marsh was giving her this afternoon would provide the answer. A dozen horrible scenarios flashed through her mind, everything from cancer to the brain tumor the doctor had mentioned.
She had to find out. Then again, maybe she didn’t want to know.
Julie washed her hair, grateful for the soothing feel of the water running over her scalp. She shaved her legs, lathered her breasts and belly, then moved lower. She felt a twinge as her hand brushed sensitive flesh. It had been so long. Three years since she had been with a man.
Not like Laura. Laura had to have a man, needed one like people need to breathe. And her sleek model’s figure and glorious long blond hair made attracting them easy. But Julie wanted more from a relationship than just a sexual fling, and if she couldn’t have it she was happy to do without.
She stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. Her head still throbbed and her hands were a bit unsteady, but her strength had begun to return. Maybe the headaches would disappear as quickly as they had started. She hoped so. With her worry for Laura, the problems she was facing at work, and her burgeoning expenses, she had enough problems already.
She sighed as she walked to the closet and slid open the mirrored doors. Her beige suit would do. She wasn’t in the mood for anything but plain-and-simple. She took her time dressing. Her muscles ached and she still felt a little bit shaky. As soon as she stepped into her matching leather pumps, she made her way to the guest room in search of Laura, but her sister wasn’t there.
The guest room looked a shambles. The bed was unmade, the sheets thrashed off haphazardly, the bright-colored quilt shoved carelessly onto the floor. Julie crossed to the closed bathroom door.
“Laura, are you in there? Are you all right?”
“I-I’m fine,” she answered through the door. “I’ll be out in just a minute.”
When Laura finally appeared, Julie was stunned at the sight of her sister’s pale, haggard face, at the faint purple smudges beneath her brown eyes and the sunken hollows in her cheeks. “My God, are you sick? You should have said something.” She set her palm on Laura’s forehead, checking for any sign of temperature, but the skin felt cold and slightly damp instead of warm, as she had expected. “Get back in bed. I’ll go down and get you something to eat.”
“I-I’m all right, Julie. I’m just a little tired is all.”
“You look like you’re a lot more than tired. Maybe you’ve got the flu or something.”
“Maybe. That’s kind of the way it feels.” A hint of embarrassed color rose into her ashen cheeks. “I-I was bleeding this morning…from inside. It wasn’t much, just a trace or two. You don’t think it’s anything serious, do you?”
“I-I don’t know. Has it happened before?”
“Only once. The morning after we suntanned in the cove on the beach.”
“I think we’d better have Dr. Marsh take a look at you. I have to go in for a few more tests this afternoon. You can come with me.”
“You’re still having those headaches?”
“Bad one last night. I finally took some sleeping pills and eventually fell asleep. I must have slept pretty hard once I did.”
Laura frowned. “I had a terrible