The Law and the Codas

Chapter Twenty-Three

If before I'd been gaping, now my mouth would need to be scraped off the floor. "Cybernetic--"

"Hand and arm. At least," she clicks the panel back in place, "Up to the elbow." She unbends her thumb as if nothing had happened. "Lost it in an explosion a few years back." She rubs the veined flesh of her knuckles. "Keran tried to save it. Did all she could," a wistfulness takes residence in her eyes and I take a step back, amazed at this warrior woman's ability to be soft, to appear vulnerable and to me, of all people. "But it wasn't enough."

Suddenly the inner workings of my brain start to turn, piecing fragments of information together, until I blurt, "And that's why you won't let her take care of your wounds anymore."

Della nods. "She'd know in an instant and would blame herself,"

My hand slips off the pole. "What is she to you?"

Chin angled upward, eyes wide, mouth lax, Della portrays serenity in a way I not thought her possible. "She saved me. Only a kid too, six or seven. Found me shot and bleeding out. Took me back to the little hole she called home. Fixed me up."

I raise my eyebrow. "Shot?"

The smile fades from her lips. "Twice, one in the leg, one in the side, but I didn't get the worst of it." She sighs and I still. Tension blankets us. The overhead light sways. "Parents did. Killed instantly. Put up too much of a fight."

My breath catches in my throat. Cold sweat runs down my back.

Della turns to me and I find that her eyes are similar to someone else's.

"What number would you have been?" The words are little more than whispers I barely feel the form on my tongue.

Della quirks her lip and points a finger at me. "I can always count on that one-zero intellect." She rests her hand on her thigh. "Deuce," she says.

I frown. "We've gone through four," I say. "Heart failures some times, others just have problems obeying."

A chuckle breaks free from Della's mouth. "Makes sense," she says. "I'm all kinds of trouble."

"Understatement of the millennium."

Della stands and for a moment, she's still, her eyes searching for something in mine. Heat rises to my cheeks. "When I first saw you, I thought for certain you would be Deuce."

Della doesn't break her concentrated stare on me. "Something about your eyes had 'Deuce' written all over them."

I fidget and toss my hands into my jean pockets. "Sorry to disappoint."

The Codas Commander shakes her head. "The only way you'll disappoint me is if you refuse to get in that damned box."

I blink and Della kicks the blue bin. Like that, whatever moment we'd been sharing, goes up in smoke. Della smiles. "Afraid these are solo rides," she nudges me in the shoulder. "And David's busy upholding his end of the bargain so there's not going to be any stolen moments between you two."

Della's finger goes to her lips, stopping my protest before I have a chance to think of one. "Blackhole bags come equipped with microphones."

The whole of me might as well burst into flame what with all the heat needling me under the surface.

"Don't worry," she says, leaning over me. "I won't tell the others about it." With one last pat on my back, she makes toward the car's exit. "I'm having Nose bring a change of clothes. Something more appropriate for mid-level Civs. Change and be ready to leave in fifteen."

I nod, glance at the box, and wipe the curls out of my eyes. Today, Della was sealing my fate. Mara pokes her head through the open door. "What's that?" she says pointing toward the box.