Aberrant

Chapter 39

"You son of—"

He jerked her forward, eye to eye, cutting off her retort. "That was the Coalition military's official position. Unofficially, Jinx, you force me to take that action, I will personally kick you out an airlock."

She stiffened. He expected another swing at his face, but only got another cold look. "Why the hell did you get altered, Kaplan?" It was an accusation, plain and simple. What he was equating to betrayal.

And that shouldn't have bothered him.

He shoved her out of the pod as the doors opened at the med ward's reception area. "Short answer: I didn't."

"What do you mean 'you didn't'?" Jinx swung to face him as he followed her out. "How—? Ah, shit, you're not like the Atillians, able to—?"

"No, natural reproduction isn't possible." He pushed her down a side corridor marked 'Visitor Accommodation'. "I'm tank bred. Created from already altered genetic donors."

She stopped again, and the look she shot him—straight head to toe—could only be described as appalled. "They grew you? Designed you? Fit for frigging purpose? Jesus, Kaplan. I thought the upper elite were the only ones who got away with that illegal, designer-baby bullshit."

He reoriented her once more and propelled her forward, keeping his hand on her back to keep her moving. "There's a need for people with my skill set."

"So, alter goddamn adults."

"Not enough viable candidates."

"And that justifies violating the G-alteration laws? They were put in place to protect juvenile life forms from exploitation. Kaplan, you should have been protected." Her anger vibrated in the rigid spine under his hand, lit up his psi-tech. "How long's this shit been going on for? Since the war?"

"I told you my grandmother was a war vet."

"No, you said High Councillor—" Jinx broke off, snapped about, eyes rounding in horror. "Oh, you are not related to that toxic bitch. Is one of the side effects of alteration some kind of emotional cryogenesis?"

"She likes and needs control. You challenge that." Kaplan shoved her ahead.

"So, what? I'm the anti-Christ because I can't be made into a frigging meat puppet?"

"The attitude might also be a factor." Ignoring her unimpressed snort, Kaplan pulled her to a stop outside his temp accommodation. Pressing a hand to the door console, he released the lock.

The door slid back to reveal a minimalistic, open-plan unit. Sleek, white bulkheads and furniture. The only point of colour was a pale green orchid on the small dining table by the kitchen.

His black gear bag sat by the bed. Jinx's duffle slumped on a charging baggage bot just inside the door—an unsubtle reminder from Sun that the bag and owner were meant to head elsewhere.

An unnecessary one.

Kaplan set his teeth. Any personal plans he might have entertained had got void dropped the second he'd seen the blood analysis. The only thing he needed from Jinx now was a lead on Cal or the rebel Xykeree—no easy task given her aberrance.

And next to impossible with her current disposition.

She resisted his move to push her through the door. "Why bunk in the medical precinct, Kaplan?"

He met her accusing stare head on. "Nothing to do with you or any therapy I might have asked you to consider."

"So, you're here for the delightful antimicrobial ambience, then?"