Incursion (12 page)
"Yeah." Kyle reached over to one of the seats and sat down heavily. "And I can almost walk."
"Soon you will."
"Why's that? What have you done?"
"You're a hybrid now, Kyle. Your fever attacks? The heat? Was my immune system wrestling yours into submission. My DNA is already re-engineering yours. In a few days, maybe weeks, your neurological damage will be fixed. And you can walk, run, fight again."
"Why? Why are you doing this?"
"I wanted to help you." Kshar glanced at Winter. She nodded, squeezed Kyle's shoulder and left them alone.
"I'm sorry I had to leave you behind. I had to get the others, find out where we could free you. It took planning and some impersonating."
"They know I'm a hybrid. They were about to ship me back to the Sector Commissar."
"Yeah. Imagine soldiers that can regenerate any kind of damage. It would put the cybernetics companies out of business. Or, at the very least, cycle soldiers back to the front faster. With the Doctrine making noises like it has, having our technology and abilities might mean the difference for the Commonwealth between freedom for a little longer and a quick, full death-embrace by the Doctrine. I understand your Sector Commissar. I dare say I'd act the same way if my people were under threat. But I might ask for help rather than trying to seize it by force. You humans with all your talk of gratitude and gifts and mutual obligation sure don't trust altruism and kindness."
Maybe normal people, but not politicians. But maybe that wasn't a concept Kshar liked or accepted. Still, there were many pieces of the puzzle missing. Such as what had triggered the change. "Was it the sex?"
"Hmm? No. I injected my own stem cells into your spinal fluid. They're reversing your cells' programming. You'll heal completely."
"And what am I then? A morph? A human? Your reverse-engineered clone? What am I?"
Kshar shrugged, then grimaced. He was sorry; Kyle could taste it. "I believe that you will turn into a Glyrinny."
Shapechanger.
Mother of Light. Father of Darkness.
Whatever the Sec guys had said, he wasn't Glyrinny; he didn't actually know what that meant. How was it, being a Glyrinny? Changing shape, seeing people as colors and patterns and vibrations, being aware of them as
taste
? It freaked him out, made his heart race as if it could get away from the change on the molecular level, of tissues already transforming around it.
The change would fix him, but it would also destroy him. He was dying. The old Kyle was dying from this, the Glyrinny DNA like a tumor gripping his body and turning it into something he didn't control. Didn't recognize, despite the so-far-familiar shape. He was
not
a morph, gods damn it all.
He breathed, tried to keep himself from panicking. He wanted his brain to get it, he really did, but the panic nearly drowned out Kshar's presence, his calm conviction. "I . . . I can't. I'm—"
"You are yourself. But who you will be is a wide-open field. You can be whoever you want to be. You can even stay yourself, but in that case, I'd strongly suggest going far away from the central worlds. They don't like our kind there very much, and I assume your identity is now truly that of a criminal."
Fucking smartass. Kyle ran his fingers along the rim of the pilot seat.
Our kind.
He wasn't. He had no idea how to
be
a Glyrinny. "I'm losing everything."
"I wouldn't have done it if you had been a fully integrated part of your species with a place in society."
My tribe would have taken me back, after some serious censure for leaving in the first place. It's my tribe or the stars, and I don't think I chose wrong last time.
Gods only knew how they would respond to his new self, though. But Kshar was right. No family, no job, no role or duty. No real home, four walls, a patch of land on a colony planet. He'd been human flotsam, barely kept afloat by social security. And even fixed, he wouldn't dream of re-joining the Space Navy. "So, you're picking up stray humans to do what?"
"Not just any stray human." Kshar smiled again at him. "You're more to me than that."
I'll just have to trust him. So far, he's not guided me wrong. Despite the lies and deception, despite injecting me with his own fucking DNA, Kshar has kept his word.
He could have left me to rot. He could have killed me. I was his enemy and he helped me.
Kyle relaxed, blew out a breath that had stuck in his lungs. "I guess I hate it when you're right."
Seeing through all my disguises. Seeing the man I can become rather than the man I was. Or have been.
"You'd better get used to that." Kshar grinned and drew closer. "I fully intend to teach you everything you've been missing. Once your healing is complete, I'll teach you how to
become
. How to take a pattern and how we can merge patterns."
It sounded extremely sexual. Kyle swallowed. What was it about Kshar that always stroked his dick? And these days, he could almost feel it, too. That was one of the things he was looking forward to. The main one, really. Fucking Kshar instead of getting fucked. They did seem to like the same things, and they were beautifully matched—sex would be a battle, a struggle with two victors. He'd shown him
that
much already.
Kshar nodded to him. "The possibilities, Kyle. All that
potential.
"
Kyle stared at him, and he could almost see it. Pulsing, vibrating movements beneath the perfectly placid Tamenean features. Living patterns under the skin, seemingly eternal, transcending whatever face or body Kshar was wearing. The body just one of a myriad of possibilities. That was the crazy thing. He could sense
Kshar
underneath, and he knew he'd be able to sense him in whatever body. Unchanged, genuinely him. If "him" was even the right pronoun. But if anything was possible, surely faces, shapes didn't matter. They were parlor tricks.
He understood it then. The potential, the utter, unbelievable freedom to be whoever existed underneath his skin. Not just since the accident, but his whole life, he'd had no idea what truly lay beneath his own surface. He'd tamped it all down with a hunter's drive, a soldier's discipline, let it drown in bitterness and anger and resentment. But all that was gone. He was a new man, vulnerable and hopeful, and truly on the way to becoming
himself
.
He reached out to take Kshar by the neck, felt little sparks travel between Kshar's skin and his fingers. He was dizzily alive, aware, a feeling like being in love.
Strike "like."
"You're the better man, Kshar." Better than me. That he'd ever say that to a murdering, thought-sucking morph was a miracle, but he really got it now.
Kshar laughed into their kiss. "I have more practice."
Thanks go to my editors, Kristen Osborne and Rachel Haimowitz, who didn't let me get away with anything. You rock! More thanks go to Alex and Aija for their sharp eyes for typos.
Also to Reese Dante, whose concept art triggered the first stage of the idea, and JW, who triggered the second stage.
Country Mouse, with Amy Lane
Dark Soul Vols. 1–5
Break and Enter, with Rachel Haimowitz
Counterpunch
Scorpion
Dark Edge of Honor, with Rhi Etzweiler
The Lion of Kent, with Kate Cotoner
For a full list, go to
www.aleksandrvoinov.com/bookshelf.html
Aleksandr Voinov is an emigrant German author living near London, where he makes his living editing dodgy business English so it makes sense (and doesn't melt anybody's brain). He published five novels and many short stories in his native language, then switched to English and hasn't looked back. His genres range from horror, science fiction, cyberpunk, and fantasy to contemporary, thriller, and historical erotic gay novels.
In his spare time, he goes weightlifting, explores historical sites, and meets other writers. He singlehandedly sustains three London bookstores with his ever-changing research projects and interests. His current interests include World War II, espionage, medieval tournaments, and prisoners of war. He loves traveling, action movies, and spy novels.
Visit Aleksandr's website at
http://www.aleksandrvoinov.com
, his blog at
http://www.aleksandrvoinov.blogspot.com
, and follow him on Twitter, where he tweets as @aleksandrvoinov.
