Phantom of the Wind (12 page)

“How often do they have meals together?”

The med tech rolled his eyes. “Every night, I believe, and twice on
Dé Domhnach
,” he lied.

The Phantom lifted his head and stared over at Parks. “You’ve got to be kidding! That often?”

“Sir,” Parks said, releasing a long breath. “I don’t have any notion how Doc spends her off time. Will you
please
stop asking me?”

Narrowing his eyes dangerously, Quinn lowered his head to the soft pillow Parks had provided for him now that he was no longer lashed to the sled. “I need to walk around,” he complained.

“I’d rather you not do that until the doc has a chance to look you over since you’re complaining about your knee hurting,” Parks said. He came over to hand Quinn a pair of loose white pajama bottoms.

“She knows every gods-be-damned inch of my body already,” Quinn stated, “and then some.”

Parks blushed. “All the same, Milord. Let’s wait until she comes back.”

“She thinks she’s going to get rid of me but she’s sorely mistaken,” the Phantom muttered. “What time is it anyway?”

Parks glanced up at the Coalition Mean Time clock. “1610, Sir.”

“How long does it take the woman to eat?”

“She’s been gone less than an hour, Milord,” Parks said.

Quinn said something under his breath then eased himself into a sitting position. He wasn’t going to take another chance of falling off the sled this time. Gingerly, he swung his legs over the side. “Damn,” he snarled. “It still hurts.” He tried lifting his right leg, the strain of the movement showing on his face. He grumbled as he struggled to get the pajama bottoms on.

“I don’t understand that,” Parks said, and once more he looked over the TAOS diagnostics.

With a loud explosion of breath, Quinn pulled his legs back up on the sled and stretched out again. “What if I’m crippled for life?” he asked.

Andrews came back in with Quinn’s supper. “Captain Jaborn is having a fit wanting to know when we can send Captain Quinn back over to the
Borstal
.” He came to stand beside the TAOS unit. “Sir, would you like me to put this on my desk for you?”

“You going to carry me over there?” Quinn snapped.

All three men jumped as one of the ‘bots came thumping toward them. Parks and Andrews moved back, their eyes wide as the cybot advanced on Quinn then slid its massive arms under the Phantom’s back and legs and lifted him carefully, stepping back then turning toward the desk Andrews had indicated.

“My gods-be-damned knee hurts like hell, Primä One,” Quinn complained.

“
S’doogh lhiam, Chiarn Scaan,
” the cybot replied again.

“It should be sorry for doing all that damage to you,” Kendall said from the doorway.

With infinite care, the ‘bot lowered Quinn to the chair beside the desk then straightened up and moved back to where it had been standing, taking up position beside its companion.

“Did you enjoy your fucking meal?” Quinn hissed.

“That comes later this evening,” Kendall replied, turning to Parks. “Why did he make such a face when the ‘bot lifted him up?”

“He says his right knee is still bothering him.”

Delving into his food, the Phantom ignored Kendall as she came to stand beside the desk.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked.

He looked up, vigorously chewing a slab of roast meat. “When your knee hurts you, wench, where does it usually hurt you? In your sweetly turned-up ass or in the middle of your shapely little leg?” He grinned around the mouthful of food.

Kendall walked over to the TAOS. “Show me the final diagnostic scan of his leg.”

Parks pulled the scan up on the screen. “I can’t see where anything could be hurting him.”

Neither could Kendall but she didn’t reveal her thoughts. “When he’s through eating, have the ‘bot put him back on the sled and let’s just wait until morning to send him back to the
Borstal
.”

“Captain Jaborn isn’t going to be happy,” Andrews said.

“I imagine not, but that’s what’s going to happen,” Kendall said. She started out of the sick bay again.

“Where are you going now?” Quinn demanded.

Kendall looked pointedly at her wristwatch. “I’m going to go back to my quarters and…” She snapped her fingers. “I need some milk!” Without another word she hurried from the room.

“What the hell do you need milk for, wench?” her patient shouted after her.

“She has an Elfinish, Milord,” Andrews explained.

Quinn stabbed angrily at a green bean. “Those have to be the ugliest felines in the megaverse,” he said.

“Munchkin is rather homely but she’s good company for the doc. I hear they carry on long conversations.”

The Phantom’s head shot up. “She talks to Kendall?”

“I believe so, Milord.”

Methodically pulverizing the green beans in his mouth, Quinn thought about that for a moment then nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, that’s how she knows things I didn’t tell her,” he said. “Elfinish can do astral projection. That cat came sneaking in here while I was dreaming.”

Andrews and Parks were finalizing the remainder of their duties in preparation for the shift change that would relieve them after their thirty-six-hour rotation. The med techs looked at one another but made no comment to the Phantom’s statement.

Finishing up the last of his rice and gravy, Quinn looked over at Primä One. “I need to piss, ‘bot,” he said.

Primä One engaged and came over to pick Quinn up. He held him until Andrews pointed at the door to the facility. The ‘bot carried Quinn over there as Parks hurried over to open the door. Unable to get its wide chassis through the restroom door, the ‘bot gently lowered Quinn to his feet and stood blocking the opening as the Phantom hobbled over to the urinal.

“There must be ligament damage the TAOS isn’t picking up,” Andrews commented.

After washing his hands, Quinn limped back to the ‘bot and Primä One lifted him up again and took him back to the unit. With great care, the ‘bot lowered the Phantom to the sled, stepped back until it was alongside Primä Two.

“Do you want something for the pain, Milord?” Andrews inquired, watching Quinn wincing as he tried to get comfortable on the sled.

“No. I’d best not get used to it, I guess. I don’t think they’ll offer it to me at the Coalition Prison, do you?”

Andrews shook his head. “I wouldn’t think so, Milord.”

Giles Walker and Tomas Vander Mere came in to take over the duties of med tech for the next thirty-six hours. The two Viragonians glanced curiously at Quinn and nodded politely to him as Parks introduced them.

“He’s unable to get about without the help of the ‘bots,” Andrews informed his replacement Walker. “But he doesn’t want any pain meds.”

“What I’d like is to get some real sleep for a change,” Quinn said, staring intently into Walker’s eyes then Andrews’.

Walker smiled. “We’ll turn off the lights in here and work in the other part of the sick bay, Milord.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Quinn said, closing his eyes.

“The ‘bots have been programmed to keep a close watch on him, so you don’t have to worry about checking on him unless he calls out to you,” Andrews said.

“Okay,” Walker said, and all four men left the diagnostic treatment room, lowering the lights as they went.

Quinn smiled. It was an easy thing for him to influence the minds of others with a steady stare. He’d been doing it since he was a toddler. The only person he couldn’t bend to his bidding was Kendall and he knew precisely why that was—she was his Chosen Mate, picked for him by the Fates long before either of them had been gleams in their fathers’ eyes. To counteract not being able to manipulate her, he’d been given the hateful ability to hurt her deeply at times. It wasn’t a trade-off he liked, but one he had been given whether he wanted it or not.

He lay there in the semi-darkness and waited until the CMT clock on the wall told him it was 2100. The majority of the crew of the
Sláinte
would be in their quarters, settling in for the night with only a skeleton staff keeping watch. With the expertise of a man who had performed the task many, many times, the physical body of Rory Sean Quinn slowly began to disappear, leaving behind only a faint aura that—should someone look in upon the sleeping patient—would convince an untrained eye that the Phantom was still abed.

Slipping unseen past a few crewmen walking about the corridors, Quinn eased into the elevator behind two women who were discussing one of the engineers’ abilities in the sack. It was easier for him than flowing into the elevator shaft and making his way down to her deck. Listening to the women, he was amazed at what they were saying. If he’d had corporal shape, he knew his face would be beet red by the time the elevator doors opened on the women’s deck.

He had to go back up two decks to the one on which he’d been told Kendall resided. He had forgotten to ask what the number to her room was, but he knew he’d be able to find her by the psychic link he had forged with her long ago. Strolling down the corridor until the scent of her was strong in his nostrils, he realized hers was not the only scent behind the closed door. For a long moment he stood there sniffing until his eyes hardened to sapphire chips of ice.

Munchkin didn’t like the man who smelled heavily of garlic because she didn’t like the stench of the pungent plant that seemed to cling to him. She was perched on the solitary barstool—well away from the garlic man and her companion who were sitting on the sofa. Thus it was that Munchkin noticed the tiny spiral of smoke that issued from beneath the door to her humanoid’s quarters and she sat up, her pointed ears twitching as the smoke drifted in a slowly spinning twist along the floor and up the leg of the chair in which the Amazeen had sat. She turned her sparsely coiffed head to see if either her humanoid or the garlic man had witnessed the arrival of the Phantom but those two weren’t looking that way.

Yawning hugely, the Elfinish jumped down from the barstool and padded over to the chair in which the smoke had settled. Without a moment’s hesitation, she jumped into the chair and settled herself on the invisible lap of a man whose ethereal body was rigid and fairly quivering with anger. She began to purr loudly when strong, unseen fingers smoothed over her patchy fur.

Gerraint Innis turned his head and looked at the feline. “Munch seems quite content tonight,” he observed.

Kendall glanced at her cat and was about to look away when the Elfinish arched her back end into the air and swished her tail. Peering closer, she noticed the feline was looking back at her with a smug grin on her puckish face. In that moment she knew she had an unseen visitor in her quarters. She turned her head away.

“I really enjoyed supper tonight,” Kendall said.

“It’s always a pleasure to accompany you,” Innis said. He reached out to take Kendall’s hand in his. “You know I’m always here for you,
Lhiannan
.”

Innis might not have heard the low growl, but Kendall did. She was acutely tuned to the vibrations that were rocketing through the room and she didn’t need to check the thermostat to know the temperature had dropped at least five degrees and would continue to drop until she escorted Innis out.

“Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed our evening together,” Kendall said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to call an end to it. I hate to admit it, but I’m beat.”

“Of course you are!” Innis agreed. He brought her hand to his lips, and when he did, the temperature fell another five degrees. He frowned. “Am I imagining things or is it getting colder in here?”

“I have the thermostat set to lower when I go to bed,” she lied.

Innis looked into her eyes. “I would be very happy to keep you warm if you need me to.”

This time the growl was low, menacing and rife with promise, and though he hadn’t heard it, the counselor sensed it and he looked around, searching for the source of the uneasy feeling that had made the hair on his arms stand up.

Kendall got to her feet, pulling her hand from his grip. “I’m really tired, Gerry. I just can’t seem to keep my eyes open.” She walked to the door and opened it. “Thank you again for a wonderful evening.”

Innis reluctantly followed her to the door. He reached for her but she stepped back, smiling at him, but making it clear with her body posture that she was not in the mood for any amorous advances. He had to settle for cupping her cheek. “Sweet dreams,” he said.

“From your mouth to Alel’s ear,” she replied. She put a hand to his shoulder and urged him out the door.

Munchkin continued to purr as she watched the garlic man say goodnight to Kendall. The invisible hands stroking her fur were sure and gentle and smelled heavenly of some spicy scent that was very pleasing to the Elfinish’s Jacobson’s organ in the roof of her mouth. It wasn’t catnip, but it was definitely arousing.

Kendall shut the door and turned around. She leaned her back against the portal, crossed her arms and waited for her visitor to materialize. She didn’t have long to wait.

“You’d best tell him to stand aside, wench, or by the gods, he’s a dead man,” Quinn said as he appeared.

The Phantom was sitting with his right ankle braced on the knee of his left leg. Munchkin was perched on his right thigh, her front paws curled delicately beneath her chest and he was stroking her from neck to tail in a slow, sensual way that made Kendall’s womb clench. Quinn’s chest and feet were bare but he was wearing a pair of sick bay pajamas.