Page 55 of Perfection

Chapter Twelve

Kindra’s hand shook as she positioned her finger over the tiny square on the holo monitor to pause the video. She stabbed at the screen, missed, and tried again. She had scanned the spreadsheets and bits of information of case after case, child after child, reviewing the figures on blood samples, throat swabs, urinalysis, and brain MRIs. She had set algorithms based on disease progress and location, hoping to find elements in common among the children. And now what? How long before she had any answers?

Finally, she rolled her chair away from the desk, exhaled a long, frustrated push of air, and waited, clasping her hands together and touching a knuckle to her lips. Turning over the task to HERO was maddening, as was hanging around pacing and watching the clock.

Movement sounded behind her, and she swiveled the chair around. York ambled toward her, wearing a day’s-worth of beard growth. He was the best thing she’d seen in her lifetime. An ally. A defender of the weak and helpless. The fascinating, handsome man who seemed to care deeply about these kids. Far too susceptible to his charm, she felt like purring—if she weren’t so tired and if she were the sort to purr.

And she had an unexpected instinct to comfort him.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Not fast enough.” She loosed a weighty sigh.

He halted next to her chair, hesitated. His eyes looked older than when she’d seen him last. Unexpectedly, he grabbed hold of her arms and hauled her up. Surprised, she still gladly leaned into his solid chest and welcomed his sturdy embrace. He meant to comfort her, but also himself, she thought. Was the task of intaking the children to cryo that exhausting? She thought of Brianna and knew the heartbreaking truth. If her own child were one of the infected, she might look just like York did.

“Mmm,” she said, letting exhaustion claim her.

His arms encircled her tighter, tipping forward until his chin nuzzled her ear. She couldn’t identify the emotion that emanated from him. Sadness? If she had to say, he seemed depressed.

“What’s the latest?” he asked.

“We have all the cases logged in, and HERO is working on it.”

“Any new ones?”

“Yes. But only two in the last few hours.”

“Better than ten. Now what?”

“We wait.” She eased back and tipped her head up so she could see his scruffy face. He stared at her with intense dark eyes, making her wonder what he was thinking. “What happened with your partner?”

“She died.” His expression grew tight, the corners of his mouth drooping down, looking pained and sad, and withdrawn. Her fingers slipped from his arm as he moved from her, padding over to the desk.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say while a sickening foreign emotion adhered to her heart like a molecular-binding agent. Her legs grew shaky as she tried to digest the idea that two people had died in the space of three days. Everyone died eventually, but with GEIs it was when they were quite old, and she didn’t have many Coder acquaintances. Death was far from commonplace for her. And even though she’d only just met Detective Lester, losing her was a blow.

“Thanks.” He sat on the desktop and spun a laser pen on the table.

A long silence stretched between them. She gave him a chance to fill her in, but he didn’t. How must it feel to lose a friend or relative? She had a tough time imagining it. Her friends and family lived long, healthy lives. The closest she could come to understanding was her mother’s departure to live and work on a distant planet to support a terraforming project. On an intellectual level, she understood her mother’s choice, but deep down, she couldn’t release the prickling sensation of abandonment.

Her dad was based in London, and though she hadn’t seen him in a very long time, she could reach him at any time, see him whenever she wanted to.

Eventually, York lifted his gaze. “I think I could use another unity session,” he said, the words hesitant.

Kindra hid her astonishment. “See, I told you Coders could do it.”

York slid forward, stood up. He seemed to deliberately shake off his melancholy with a half-smile. “Did you now?”

She put even more distance between them. “Stop.”

“What?”

“You know very well what. Quit making me like you.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Like me?”