Lashing out, finding his wrist, she grabbed it, pressed hard on the pressure points, twisted viciously. The man tried to pull away – cried out.
Her body responded to the action with near blinding pain. Clamping her teeth together, she willed it away.
“Hey, let go,” he shouted – the pressure stopping him from pulling away. She reached out, grabbed the other hand he’d brought around to try to pry hers loose.
Althea opened her eyes, looked him over quickly: average human size and shape, wearing heavy, patchy, worn top and trousers. His coloring something like an Enta Ostherian – blond hair cut close to his scalp, pale saffron-colored skin.
“Hey–” His sharp-featured face twisted in pain as her fingers clamped down on both his wrists. Only her fingers were so much thinner than she remembered, so much weaker. How much tissue had the NANs cannibalized to keep her alive? Could even she hold onto him?
Despite his own pain, the man was pulling her up and away from the bed. Althea pressed harder, pulled his wrists down to the mattress, increased the pressure, forced him to his knees, head falling down to rest hard against her thigh. The position was too awkward to maintain. She felt dizzy again, sweating with the effort, holding on with all her strength. Wires pulled against her arms, head. Wires? They had attached wires to her?
What had they done to her?!
She leaned over him, shutting her eyes to block out the vertigo while the drum in her head kept pounding and pounding.
“Let go!” he cried out.
Hold him!
“If you try to cry out again, I’ll silence you permanently!” She needed Dorian, needed him now!
He struggled against the pressure of her grip. She could hear his harsh breathing, felt warm skin, hot breath.
“What are you doing?” he forced out, pained, confused. “You’re injured. We’ve been trying to help you.”
“By separating me from my tech,” she replied angrily, tightening her grip. The added pressure forced a pained gasp out of him. She held on, began to shudder violently.
“I don’t know where I am,” she told him. “I don’t know you!” She could feel the strength draining out of her, stars flashing in her eyes. “I need the tech you found with me… I need it now.”
She tried to maintain her grip, hold on hard, increase the incentive.
“All right, all right,” he surrendered, grimacing. “Just let go of me.”
The room started spinning. Her stomach turned violently. Having no strength left, Althea released his wrists. He fell away from her, thudding to the floor as she reeled backwards, unable to stop her collapse into the soft sheets, the yielding mattress. The cracks above her spun crazily, darkening, as if they were opening a portal to some place horrific… Althea struggled to stay conscious.
“You promise,” she breathed. “You promise…”
She needed Dorian. She was all alone without him.
Althea stared up, helpless, as the Makani man loomed over her, image wavering as dark and light battled for dominance. He didn’t appear angry with her. He seemed worried.
“Yes, of course.” What as he responding to? Oh yes, her demand – she hoped.
“It’s all right,” he told her, rubbing his wrist. He put a hand out to her, then thought better of it, drew back. “Just… just relax.”
She couldn’t keep her eyes open, fell back into darkness.
“Hey, can you hear me. Don’t go–”
She was still conscious – but… oh, so weak.
“I can hear you,” she told him, her voice sounded strained, faint, distant. “I have nantech… medicine.”
She prayed there was enough to rebuild her networks, restore her strength.
“Do – you – understand?” she stressed, breathing heavily with the effort of forcing the words out. “N-A-N… If you are helping me, if you want me to stay alive, you will get me my tech.”
She felt him, heard him move, closer to her.
“All of it,” she commanded with as much strength as she could muster. “Now!”
He got the point, backed away from her. Oneness, she didn’t have the strength to bat an eyelash. Was he still afraid of her? Or for her? She opened her eyes again, tilted her head to watch him turn and move for the door – and thump headlong into a white-haired, taller, bearded man in a dirty, ratty robe, who began to swear at him. He didn’t at all look like the same race. How was that possible, she wondered?
The collision turned into physical comedy: the older man raised his voice in anger, alarm, the younger apologized – pointed to her and his wrist, miming pain. The older man stared at her unmoving – stared for a long moment – then pulled younger out of the room, sliding the door shut after them.
If they thought that brought privacy, they were wrong; from the sound of their voices, they hadn’t even moved away from the doorway. She didn’t even need to focus to hear them clearly.
“When did she wake up? What did she say to you?” the older man demanded.
“She said there were nantech medicines in her equipment,” the younger replied. “Do you know them to see them?”
You don’t know what nanomeds looked like?!…
“Maybe. I think, no– let’s go, gather it all up,” the elder decided. “There is no telling what she needs!” The demand didn’t seem to move the younger one much, though. His voice was fading too slowly for actual haste.
“I still think she’s still plenty strong.”
“Come on, boy,” the other raised his voice again, “hurry!”
“Kyso, she almost crushed my wrist!” The complaint was the last thing Althea heard of them before they faded from earshot. Alone once again, she began to realize what she had done.
“Oh… he’s going to hate me for that.”
