Chapter Ten: November 1st, 2159

Rouge City -- Last night, Halloran "Hal" McGeever, a photographer for the Rouge
City "Broadsheet", was arrested in connection with the recent series of Mecha
destructions in the city and for the killing of Terrill Loris, an accountant [. . .]

* * * * * *

"I still can't believe you got separated from Cecie," Phila cried at Frank over
the top of the newspaper he was trying to hide behind at breakfast.

"Do you think it makes me feel any better that I have no idea where Cecie and
Joe got to?" Frank replied.

"She had a four inch gash along her ribs, but she'll survive. She's a strong
young woman."

The line cut out and Frank hung up the phone. He turned to Phila. "That was Mr.
Flyte. He found Cecie; she's all right."

* * * * * * *

After breakfast, Kip and Frank went up to Flyte's residence, known as the
Perfumed Alcove, in one of the towers at the north end of the city. Frank
carried with him a brown paper package containing Joes things.

A doorman Mecha admitted them and a small serving man who could almost have been
Juliens twin met them in the lobby and led them up to the 10th floor, where
Flyte awaited them.

They entered a sitting room just off Flytes office. Another door stood slightly
ajar, showing a glimpse of dark red hangings that might have surrounded a rich
bed.

Flyte entered from the office, in his shirtsleeves. "Sorry to keep you waiting,
I've been trying to get in touch with the partner of my accountant, Mr. Loris."

Thanks. That means a lot to me. Loris and I were more than just business
associates: we were friends as well. We were both outcasts of different kinds.

You found out my little secret, Flyte said, smiling. He beckoned them to
follow. Come along, shes waiting for you.

He led them out into a foyer and up a staircase to another suite of rooms to a
reception room that opened into another foyer with a staircase. He went out and
up the stairs.

Too early in the morning: mornings are slack for all hookers, Orga or Mecha.
Used to come to these kinds of places at this time of the day back before Hal
got me on Mechas: the girls welcomed the business if they werent resting up
from the night before . . . but I shouldnt say any more.

Flyte came down a moment later. Give her a minute, shes just had her breakfast
and she was settling down for a rest. Shes still a little shaky.

Kip explored the books on the shelf over the mantel, or at least tried to: he
found a set of bound volumes of "The Pearl", a naughty periodical from the
Victorian era.

Best not to get too nosy in places like this, Frank warned. Though I must
admit 'The Pearl' and things like that have something of an advantage over the
modern stuff.

Cecie descended the stairs, clad in a scarlet robe tied at her waist with a
silver cord, a silver cross set with five red stones hung from a black velvet
band around her neck.

She stepped into the room. She had changed overnight: a new melancholy showed in
her dark eyes. she kept one hand pressed to her side as she sat down on the
couch beside Frank.

She nodded. There wasnt any other way. I didnt want to do it, but it had to
be done. He was sick and scared.

I can get the sick part if he really was the Mecha that injured those people in
Frisco and Omaha, but what made him scared? Kip asked.

Hal was using him as a cats-paw, but there was more to it than that. Jay still
had a little bit of dignity left that the blown chip hadnt destroyed. But hes
out of his sufferings now.

Yes. He carried me here. Flyte had his doctor-Mecha biotape my wound. Its
closing quickly: I can feel it tingling.

Kip got up. Were glad you are. Ill go call Phila and Bernie to let them
knowif Flyte will let me use his phone.

Kip went out. Cecies gaze had turned to the floor: Frank could tell she had
something on her mind. He looked at her, chin tilted down so that a rim of white
showed under his leaf-colored irises. Its happened, hasnt it?

She nodded and gathered her robe about her as if she drew Joes arms about her
body. Ive been in him for a long time, but now hes in me. They live on
affection, you know, even though they never ask for it outright.

One thing led to another, like they say. It was inevitable, you know. Im a
woman; if I were immune to his charms, thered be some cause for concern. Ive
loved him for over a year now. It wasnt easy to keep this love inside me and
hidden from him. He has his sensors; he knew it long before I let on to him. He
was just waiting for my resolve to drop into his hand.

And not a word of this to anyone. Phila would have a conniption fit if she
knew. I can trust you with this data.

Hes upstairs waiting for me to come back, waiting so he can offer himself to
me once more. It wasnt just once, but twice, later this morning. I couldnt
keep my hands off him; I wanted to repay him. Tears showed on her cheeks though
she smiled. Hes my first and probably my last. Someone like him you meet only
once in your life.

Mechas do something to you. Once youve had em, you may never want a real
lover again, or so they say. In some ways its a minor miracle that I can do as
well with Bernie as I do, after all the times Ive been with Mechas.

She ran her hand up her body, between her breasts to her shoulders, hugging
them. I dont think I can possibly be the same person after this. Its
likeCecie died and theres another person living in my body.

In honor of the woman of Magdala who loved much, Frank thought.
Kip returned at this point. Phila wants us to bring you down right away, he
said.

Why? What happened? Kip asked. He looked at Cecie. Her face had gone red and
she looked away. I guess I missed something.

Kip, swear to me on your mothers grave that you wont breathe a word of this
to Phila.

Kip hesitated. Inwardly his jaw had dropped, but he dared not show it. Lovershe
didnt doubt Cecie could give in to her physical nature, but she had always
seemed so rational and levelheaded around Joe. Hed seen women with things like
Joe since he was a kid, but Cecie was different. Hearing about this was like
hearing about a death in a friends family, like seeing the stump of a favorite
tree.

They took leave of her shortly afterward. Im worried for her, Frank said as
they walked home. Shes at a very vulnerable stage.

I think she knows that, Kip said. But if Phila finds out now, shell be all
over Cecie and that would finish her off.

* * * * * *

Cecie went up the stairs to the room Flyte had let her use. She paused at the
door, leaning against the doorpost, not sure if she could face him again.

The door opened as if by itself. A hand emerged around the edge of the leaf; the
fingers reached out and touched her face, stroked her jaw, down to her neck. She
pushed the door open and stepped inside.

* * * * * *

She couldnt be in better hands, really, Bernie said to Phila as they washed
the breakfast things.

Remember what Cecie said about the spark of goodness hiding in the bad person
and the cloud of wickedness lurking in the good person? I think this is a case
of that. Remember when Joe got pinned with the restraining bolt and Mr. Flyte
didnt hold it against Cecie? Hes a good man.

* * * * * *

Later, Cecie lay nestled in the crook of Joes arm, her eyes half-closed.

She let her eyes slide closed, pretending to sleep. But she knew that he knew
she wasnt yet asleep.

* * * * * *

Cecie didnt remember how she got up to Flytes residence. But she remembered
awakening with the pungent scent of smelling salts in her nostrils. She sneezed
and opened her eyes.

She looked up into a slightly nondescript yet pleasant young mans face framed
with silvery platinum blond hair. He wore a white lab coat over surgical scrubs;
something quietly pensive and yet blank about the eyes and the gloss of his skin
told her what he was: a doctor-Mecha, an older model that had been discontinued.

Where am I? she asked, trying to sit up. The Mecha pressed her back on the
pillows gently.

You are in a safe place with people you know; just lie still and let me look at
your injury, he said.

She looked down. She lay on a wide bed covered with black satin sheets and a
violet comforter, red velvet pillows under her head. She had been stripped, but
a towel covered her breasts and the covers had been pulled up to her belly. The
Mecha gently probed her wound, now crusted with dried blood.

She winced. She looked up to the head of the bed. Flyte stood there, a tall,
white haired woman at his side. Cecie noticed a strong similarity between their
faces, the same calm, patricianly hawkish features.

The woman knelt beside the bed. Hes undergoing a diagnostic himself. So far
hes all right, she said. Im Riana, Flytes sister.

No arteries have been severed, but some sutures will be necessary to aid the
biotape, the doctor reported. She will live.

The Mecha felt at her wrist, then placed his palm over her heart. Breathe
deeply, Miss Martin? She complied, but the wound still throbbed. Good, good.
There is no sound of bleeding in the lungs or the chest cavity.

He pushed up his sleeve and opened a compartment in his forearm. He took out a
vinyl tie with which he tied off her left arm, raising the veins. From another
compartment in his other forearm and took out a small syringe.

This may sting, but it will pass, he warned. She started panting. Breathe
deeply now and count to ten.

She looked away and forced her lungs to fill and empty slowly, ticking off
numbers in her head.

At four her eyelids grew heavy, at five the room started to recede. By six she
fell asleep.

* * * * * *

A half an hour or ten hours could have passed. She heard movement about her. She
felt soft hands smoothing something over her wound.

A loose scarlet robe lay under her; the doctor Mecha smoothed a layer of biotape
over her wound, a thick pinkish-brown patch like a second skin full of nanobots
ready to deliver an extra dose of nutrients to her cells to speed the process of
healing her flesh.

She looked about the room. It wasnt a large room, but she couldnt see much of
it on account of the violet canopy and curtains about the bed. A battery lantern
stood on the bedside table, with a carafe of water and a clean glass next to it.

No. I owe you, he said. The doctor Mecha stepped aside and let Riana close the
robe over Cecie.

Flyte patted her brow as if she were his daughter. I know you do, girl. I
believe he does too, in his own way.

Cecie closed her eyes and leaned her head back. A few moments passed. Someone
nudged her awake. She opened her eyes. Riana sat beside her, a white tablet in
her cupped hand, a glass of water in the other.

Cecie sat up carefully. She took the pill in one hand and put the pill on the
back of her tongue. Riana gave her the glass of water, which Cecie drank,
washing the pill down her throat. Riana took the glass and drew the covers up
over her chest.

Now dont move for another five hours. The nanobots in that tape have to work
on your flesh.

A moment later, it opened again and two tall forms, one slightly taller than the
other, moved into the room.

If she shows any signs of change for the worst, you send for me at once, she
heard Flyte saying. But dont touch her or go near the bed until at least five
hours have passed.

* * * * * *

Hal came to a few moments after Frank had knocked him out. Nursing his jaw, he
dragged himself through the darkened streets.

Hey, Jay! Where in h--- are you, fella? He set off along Broad Way, looking
for any sign of Jay. It was times like this he wished hed thought to put a
tracking device in Jay.

He went down a side street; his foot caught on something on the ground and he
fell flat on his face. Cursing acridly, he got up and stooped to examine the
stumbling block.

It wasnt a block at all, but rather a prone figure. Two pallid gray eyes stared
sightlessly at him.

Jays limbs had detached from his torso and his head had rolled away from the
rest of his body. Hal smelled the unmistakable stink of ozone over the dead
Mecha. Whoever had done this had finished off the job with an EMP, no hope of
repairs. Even his cube would be fried.

Hal turned over Jays head and, taking the light intensifier from his pocket,
turned it on.

The faceplate had been smashed in from the fall, but he could still dimly
recognize his partners features.

Police sirens wailed in the near distance, coming closer, but he paid them no
heed. He dimly heard an amphibicopter pass overhead. A spotlight splashed over
him. Hal stayed still, hoping they would overlook him. It passed on.

A ring of policemen and security guards surrounded him. He stood up, raising his
hands over his head.

Burnstead approached him. I hate to break the news to you, but youre going to
have to wrap this one up, he said. Youre under arrest for the assault of
Terrill Loris. Or did you have Jay do that for you as well.

How could he do that when some one did him? Hal retorted. As Burnstead lead
Hal away toward the police amphibicopter parked in a square at the end of the
street, he noticed something dragging from Hal's left ankle. Burnstead stopped him
and turned a flashlight on the object.

* * * * * *

Five hours, Mr. Flyte had ordered him. Joe sat in the shadows of Cecies room,
counting off the seconds by his internal clock.

Four hours, thirty minutes and ten seconds: Cecie had hardly moved the whole
time, on account of the drugs she had been given to help her sleep. He watched
her from his spot on the floor, sitting on a cushion, watching the bed.

Riana had given him the pillow though he had no need for it and Mr. Flyte had
ordered him to keep a strict watch over Cecie in case anything happened they
needed to know about.

She breathed quietly and deeply the whole time. She moved once under the covers.
He heard her moisten her lips twice.

Four hours, forty-five minutes, fifty-six seconds: she moved, rustling the
bedcovers, turning over on her back.

Four hours, fifty-seven minutes, fifteen seconds: he heard her sigh once. Was
that a word? Oh? No?

Five hours, two minutes, five seconds: her body twitched. He got up and moved to
the foot of the bed for a better look.

Five hours, three minutes, two seconds: she sat up. She rubbed her face with
both hands. She put one foot to the floor, then the other. She stood up,
tentatively. She swayed a little and held onto the bedside table. She sat back
on the bed and filled the glass from the carafe.

Five hours, six minutes: she set the glass on the table and slid her legs under
the covers.

* * * * * *

Cecie awoke with a parched throat. She touched her left side gingerly; she
winced a little, but it was no longer the deadening pain of before. Good pain,
healing pain, weakness-leaving-the-body pain, not death gnawing at her flesh. She
sat up.

She tried to stand up, but she still felt weak. She sat down and by
the light of the battery lamp, poured herself a glass of water from the carafe.

Outside, the wind still blew, whistling at the window. The power had not returned:
the room lay bathed in thin blue moonlight, no neon glowed outside. She set the
glass on the table and leaned back on the pillows, sliding her legs under the
covers.

She could not fall asleep again. The drugs to deaden the pain must have worn
off, and there was still a lot of adrenalin pulsing in her veins. She lay
listening to the night sounds.

Something moved in the room, rustled at the hangings about the bed. She looked
down. The covers at her feet stirred, then rippled. They rose over something
moving underneath that was not her. She flinched, drawing back from it.

The covers at her groin rose as if by themselves, rounding over some object
beneath them. She tensed, ready to flee or to kick the intruder in the head, and
yet she lay mesmerized by the movement. The entity moved toward the edge of the
covers.

Joes swarthy face looked at her from beneath the covers. He drew closer to her,
his arms framing her spread thighs.

Your protestations do not convince, he said, inching closer. Your lips say
no, but your eyes say yes. Youve had enough vile tricks played on you for one
night. Why not allow yourself a treat?

He crept closer. A black silk dressing gown covered his form, but it had slid
back from his shoulders and the skirts had opened over his thighs and more than
that.

He crept closer still, keeping his body clear of hers. He lay down beside her,
turning her onto her right side, facing him.

I could use a little sweetness to cheer me up, fella, she said. Just be
gentlemy wound.

Joe reached down to her left side, running just his fingertips over the fabric
of her robe. I shall handle you with the care that you need: no more horrors,
only delights. His hand slid up to the neck of her robe. May I?

He parted the halves of her robe gently with just his fingertips. He lowered his face to her neck and nipped her flesh gently. She gasped, but it came out like a light laugh.

The musky smell of his skin combined with something sweet, floral, emanating from his hair. Roses, she realized. She closed her eyes, wondering if the sensuous heaviness that crept over her was anything like the kind of feeling a virgin in a vampire novel might feel when her demon lover approached her. Was this just a dream? Was she still under the influence of the anesthetic?

She let the sensations continue, washing over her. Were these real, the hands that caressed her breasts, cupping them, the lips that kissed them and nibbled at her nipples? She opened her eyes and looked down into Joe's eyes as he looked up at her, eyes so bright they all but glowed like cat's eyes in the gloom.

She stroked his hair, feeling the individual fibers, so soft and silken. She ached all over from the exertion earlier that night, but the warmth that enveloped her, the warmth from Joe's long body covering her eased the pain.

He crept down her, almost as if he were retreating under the covers, working his way down her, kissing and nibbling at her skin, carefully avoiding her wound, his long fingers tracing slow circles on her lower abdomen. She gasped as his fingertips and then his tongue parted the bramble-growth of hair between her thighs. He penetrated the tangle, finding her flesh, gently preparing her for another kind of penetration.

She felt the sweat starting to break out on the back of her neck and her shoulders. Trembling overtook her as he parted her thighs. Just his very presence on top of her left her weak-limbed and yielding. But the slight pressure-pain in her side let her know his touch had not healed. it.

"You are so strong, and yet under my touch you turn so soft and pliable, like a young plant," he said. "But what kind? ... A mimosa, perhaps. Yes, you react so to my touch."

She laughed gently at the pun he'd made, on the name of her favorite drink. He laughed softly with her.

He worked deeper into her. She felt her flesh engulfing his silicon, but she felt as if she were the one engulfed, her body wrapped in a silken sheet of fire, her view blocked by a sea of green.

The nails of her hands clenching the sheets dug in so hard she knew they cut through. "Oh love! Oh fire!" she cried out in a voice that hardly seemed her own.

She didn't know how much time had passed from the cry she emitted to the moment when she came back to herself.

Joe hovered over her, propped on his elbows, their lower bodies still melded together, he lingering within her, a silken smile curving his lips.

"You screamed," he said. "You screamed so loudly the whole city must have heard it."

"Funny that the sounds of a nightmare are the same sounds as a woman in her lover's arms," she said, still a little drunk with pleasure.

He laid a finger over her lips. "No tricks, just treats." With that, he withdrew from her.

Cecie let her eyelids slide shut as he turned over on his side and drew her close to him, protectingly, careful to avoid touching the biotape. She nestled against him, her neck against the operating license on his chest.

"Life flows into your body," he whispered against her hair, reshaping the despairing quote she'd let slip earlier. "Delight flows in with love's waters."

With his words in her ear, she slid into a tranquil doze, pleasantly sated from his embrace.


				*The Shadows Between the Neon* *Chapter Ten: November 1st, 2159*



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