AI - Alpha Part 35

"I need maintenance." Her expression softened into something hard to define. Affection? "And you are a stubborn man, Thomas Wharington."

"What, I'm not a beautiful sight?"

Her lips curved upward. "You're breathing."

He smiled, too, then winced at the aching muscles in his jaw. "I guess breathing will do."

"You need to continue repairing yourself."

Repair indeed. He was worn out from just his few minutes awake. Grateful for the food and her touch,

he sank back into darkness.

Time pa.s.sed in a blur. Alpha woke him to eat and drink, and the rest of the time he slept. She splinted his leg with a board and medical gauze. Either she had hidden his aspirin from Charon or else she had found more in the station. She gave Thomas several tablets, and he hoped it wasn't too little, too late, that the nanos and drugs in his body had protected his heart muscle from too much damage.

Sometimes when he awoke, he found himself alone; other times she was in the chair or lying next to him on the bed. Once he saw her sitting on the floor and staring into s.p.a.ce, doing whatever androids did with their thoughts when left on their own.

After several days he woke up and stayed awake, ravenously hungry. He was by himself, but Alpha had

left a gla.s.s of water on the chair. He drank it all, thankful for the clear liquid. No mud.

He got up slowly. For a while he sat on the edge of the bed. Then he pulled the chair closer and leaned on it so he could pull himself to his feet, keeping his weight on his good leg. His other leg was stiff in its splint. Straight, though. If it had broken again when he fell, Alpha had set it reasonably well.

He found his clothes folded on a shelf in the otherwise empty closet. Alpha had washed them. One sleeve of his shirt was torn, but the mud and even the plant stains were gone. He dressed and felt better for it. Then he ventured out of the bedroom.

The station was as abandoned as before. He located the bathroom and washed up, using a cracked, dried- out bar of soap he found under the sink. He even ferreted out an old razor to sc.r.a.pe off his stubbly beard.

Then he went on a wider search mission. He didn't locate much food in the small kitchen, only dried soups and crackers, and the canned vegetables Alpha had been feeding him. Then he hit gold: a package of dried waffles. He microwaved all four of them, poured himself a gla.s.s of water, and sat down to his feast. It was bland fare, stale and crunchy-and one of his best meals in ages.

After he cleaned up the kitchen, he picked up the lightest chair he could find, a wicker affair, and carried it outside, into the sunlight. The Banshee was still down the beach, with Charon's jet beyond it, but he didn't feel up to walking that far. He had outwitted death so many times these past two weeks that even if he had been a cat with the proverbial nine lives, he would have none left.

He set the chair in front of a low window on the front wall of the station and sat himself down. The sky was a rain-washed blue with wispy clouds. His flannel shirt kept out the autumn chill, leaving him pleasantly warm in the streaming sunlight. He supposed all he needed to complete the grandfatherly picture was a blanket across his knees. Right now, he had no objection to the encroaching years of his age. Let them encroach all they wanted as long as they kept coming.

A woman in dark clothes was walking up the beach. As she came nearer, he savored the view, her tight leather pants, black T-shirt, and that s.e.xy walk. Alpha might be one of the worst things that had ever happened to him, but d.a.m.ned if she wasn't a fine figure of a woman. Even if she wasn't a woman.

She came up to the station and stopped in front of him. "Your repairs seem to be progressing well. You

look better this morning."

Thomas couldn't help but laugh. "You're a lot different from Daniel." The doctor would have been admonishing him for getting up without permission.

Alpha sat on the sill of the window. "Who is Daniel?"

He scowled at her. "The man you konked on the head so you could get into my house and kidnap me."

"Oh. That one. I didn't konk him."

"That's what you told me before."

"I got his syringe and gave him a sedative. He went to sleep. I'm sure he was fine when he woke up.

Mad, though."

"I don't blame him."

"Your sec-techs were probably furious when they woke up," she added smugly. "I don't think it occurred

to them that I could beat them in martial arts or tech."

"They should know better than to let a beautiful woman make them drop their guard." So should he.

She scooted behind him on the windowsill and put her arms loosely around him, her palms against his

chest. With her lips near his ear, she said, "I'm glad they didn't know better."

Thomas flushed. "Alpha, what are you doing?" He didn't move away, though.

She kissed his ear. "I'm showing you that I'm glad you're alive."

"Ah." He knew he should pull away, but he liked sitting in the sun with a s.e.xy woman touching him,

even if he was her prisoner.

"I've been running calculations," she said, straightening up behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"About what?"

"Our options. I have revised my previous list. I see three courses of action. My preference is number

one."

He didn't like the sound of that. "Which is?"

"Charon has an estate in South America. He used it for business meetings or retreats with his girlfriends."

"I thought you were his girlfriend."

"I was his forma." After a pause, she added, "When he had a girlfriend, he left me alone. That was good."

"But he always came back to you."

"Yes."

Thomas thought of commenting on the emotional limitations of someone who could only hold a

continuing relationship with an android, but given that he was sitting in that android's arms, he decided

to keep his mouth shut.

"It's a secure location," Alpha continued. "The staff is discreet. It wouldn't be the first time they were told to make certain a guest didn't leave the premises. Charon didn't like people wandering around his property."

"You want to take me there?"

"You would have a pleasant life." Her voice turned husky. "Whatever you want. Anything. The staff includes a doctor, and if he doesn't know enough cardiac medicine, I'll get someone who does."

He spoke carefully. "You won't let me go?"

"I want to keep you."

"I'm not a thing you can keep."

"I don't know what you are." She trailed her fingertips along his neck. "But the calculations that predict

the best outcomes for my future involve your continued presence."

"What about my future?" He wished it didn't feel so good when she touched him. It made it hard for him to think clearly.

"I would take excellent care of you," she said.

"Like what, I'm your cat or something?"

"No. Like my man." She slid her palms in slow circles on his chest. "If we take care with your health,

you can have as full a life as anyone." She undid the top b.u.t.ton on his shirt. "As full as you want."

Thomas cleared his throat, fl.u.s.tered. "Alpha."

She stopped unb.u.t.toning his shirt. "We have other options. I could take you to Charon's base. He

brought extra fuel. I have enough now to complete the flight. I could implement his plans to build an army of formas for hire. Or whatever."

The "for hire" was bad enough. The "whatever" chilled Thomas. "I don't like that option."

"The thought of continuing his work is repugnant."

"That's good to hear." He would have used a stronger word than repugnant. "You said we had a third choice."

"Yes. I don't like it much better than the second."

That didn't bode well. "What is it?"