Part 19 (1/2)

'Do it again, please?' Amr's voice was hoa.r.s.e, small.

'Oh, it was great!' Damia answered. Amr moved an arm to encircle her but Damia moved - painfully away. 'I'm too sore, Amr. Too tired.

None of the tapes mentioned that.' 'Nor what you've done to me,' he replied, eyes dull.

Anger crept into them. 'Have you no notion of what you've done to me?' His fingers clenched into fists. Tears welled in his eyes, tears of anger, of honour lost, of despair. 'Do you?' His voice grew louder until he was shouting: 'Do you? Do you? Wh.o.r.e, s.l.u.t! b.i.t.c.h!' With a look of pure terror he caught his hand mid-stroke as it moved unwilled to strike at her.

Afra! Damia cried in despair.

She disappeared as Amr fought to produce an apology.

Gone, he closed his eyes and cried softly in deep sobs, curled into a foetal ball.

Nothing was mentioned about hating after loving! Damia sobbed to Afra as he finished towelling her off and pulled her into his arms to wrap the towel around her. She rested her head on his chest and bawled. It was so.. so... and then he screamed at me!

You were careful, weren't you? Afra asked her, keeping his tone calm and soothing.

Of course I was careful! I've had the implant for months now!

Damia retorted angrily. Afra pushed himself away from her, tilted her head up so her eyes met his.

'Damia, you kept your s.h.i.+elds up, didn't you?' Afra asked.

's.h.i.+elds? Afra, we made love!' Afra's expression altered, pain flickered across his face.

'You were in a hotel?' Damia nodded dully. 'The one across the street from Central?' She nodded again.

What room number?

Afra! she protested.

We have to know how Amr's handling this, he said, then strengthened his 'pathing. Gollee, we've got an emergency.

A m.u.f.fled response came back to him. Afra made a face.

I need you to look after a T-9, Amr Tusel. He's over at the Excelsior. Afra paused, his face expressionless as he looked down at Damia. I think he's been burnt out.

Gollee Gren became instantly alert. I'll handle it, Afra.

'Burnt out?' Damia echoed aloud. 'Afra, he was fine!' 'Was he fine when you left him, Damia?' Afra asked her softly. 'Did you guard your Talent when you made love?' Damia was devastated. 'n.o.body told me!' 'I did,' Afra said quietly, lips thin. 'I said, be careful.' 'I thought you meant-' Damia broke off, finally absorbing the enormity of her recklessness. 'Will he be all right? Will he recover?' 'Possibly,' Afra hedged. But she c.o.c.ked her head at him challengingly.

'Probably not,' he admitted, recognizing the morality involved.

'Oh, Afra!' Damia wailed, throwing herself in his arms.

I'll never love again!

'I wouldn't say ”never”, Damia,' Afra said at his driest.

He picked her up and carried her over to the couch. 'Just never be so careless ever again.' He placed her beside him on the couch, cradling her torso with his arms. 'Love, Damia, but be caring and careful with it.

No, I'll never love again, Damia mumbled earnestly as her 'voice' faded with fatigue. Afra made no reply, holding the youngster until she drifted into sleep. Then, very carefully, he insinuated a tendril of thought to ease her pain.

Afra was aware of Damia's gaze before he opened his eyes.

He looked down at her, still resting on his chest and met her piercing blue eyes. He gave her a slight smile. 'Bet your muscles are sore.' Damia snorted. 'From sleeping this way or from before?' 'Both.' Damia regarded him for a long moment, then admitted: 'It could have been you-' Afra silenced her with a finger to her lips. 'Don't.' She examined the finger critically, then ducked away from it to kiss it, smiling up at him. The smile faded.

'Have you heard about Amr?' Afra nodded solemnly. 'He's resting now, in hospital.' He looked down at her. 'I will teach you control.' Damia bit her lip. 'Would I have done that to you, if we had-' Afra shook his head. 'We didn't, Damia.' 'It could have been you!' The admission was torn from her lips. She buried herself against his chest. 'Oh, Afra, don't you love me?' Afra cradled her head tenderly to his chest.

'I wanted to, you know,' Damia went on, implacably young and naive. 'I tried-' 'I know,' Afra soothed.

She pulled her head back against his hand to look him in the eyes.

'You knew? And you didn't... And I And Amr?' she spluttered, growing furious.

Again Afra put a finger to her lips but Damia wrapped her teeth about it, biting hard. Her eyes locked on his as she bit harder and harder but Afra's expression didn't change. When she tasted salty blood in her mouth, Damia spat the finger out.

Tears dripped out of Afra's eyes as he coldly examined the bleeding teeth marks.

'I'm glad it hurt!' Damia said, hot with fury, with embarra.s.sment, with guilt.

Afra flicked his eyes to her. 'That isn't what hurts, Damia.' She broke free of his grasp angrily, strode to the bathroom, pulled on one of his long s.h.i.+rts, grabbed a first aid box and threw at him on the way out, 'Here! That's for your hand. I can't do anything for your heart.' The door, being automatic, would not slam but Damia kicked it with a resounding thud to achieve the same effect.

'A word with you, young miss!' The tight voice of Gollee Gren shocked Damia so much she jumped.

'Gollee! What are you doing here?' she asked, looking around the lounge at Callisto Station. 'It's not Dad-' Then she remembered.

'Amr?' 'He's all right.' Gren dismissed the issue. He grabbed her, dragged her over to a booth, sat down beside her. 'Just what do you think you are doing, anyway?' 'What do you mean?' Gren swore.

'After all he's done for you. He's covered up for your ”tricks”, he's watched over you, lied and you - you're not even worth your name!' 'Who?' Damia cried in confusion.

'Who?' Gren snorted. 'Trust you to not know! Don't you think?

Don't you see?' He shook his head in a vain attempt to throw off his anger. It did not work. He let out a deep breath. 'I got the pictures back from medics.' He nodded to emphasize his point. 'He said that one of the c.o.o.nies had bit him but I know those marks. Even when you try to bite his hand off he protects you!' 'afra?' Damia exclaimed.

'He doesn't even know I exist! That cold-blooded green-skinned yellow eyed-' She searched for further epithets, found none, 'Capellan!' 'You don't think about anyone but yourself, do you?' Gren snapped back.

'Damia, Damia, poor Damia!' He narrowed his eyes critically at her.

'Well, what about Afra?

How do you think he felt when his best friend's daughter comes on to him? Don't you know what you did?' 'He turned me down!' Damia exclaimed, wondering how Gren could have known that and amazed at herself for blurting out such an unsavoury episode.

'You were as obvious as the sun! He had no choice, even if he had wanted to!' Gren said hotly. 'But that's nothing.

To punish him for it you go off and maim some poor-' 'THAT'S NOT TRUE!' Damia shouted at the top of her lungs, tears of rage rolling down her cheeks.

'Isn't it?' Gren asked quietly. 'Think carefully before you answer, Damia Gwyn-Raven. And when you are done, you go to him and you ask him very politely to teach you control.' 'I won't! Never!' She was so furious she whispered, visibly trembling to suppress the things she wanted to do, could do to her accuser 'Your parents don't know about that night, or Amr, Damia grinned. 'That's normal!' he said, speaking as low and as intensely. 'Yet.' He rose, turning back to her in parting. 'Now, you apologize to him and you learn from him how to control yourself.' 'Or you'll do what?' Damia sneered tauntingly.

Gren looked her over critically. 'I won't tell your father.' And he stomped off leaving Damia to wonder why that promise struck her as so sinister.