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  “The electrodes that connect to his suit interface with the pod,” Inya went on. “When he’s sealed inside, the circuitry connects with him and takes over his body—sort of a substitute brain, but one that doesn’t age or require nourishment outside of what the pod can provide. Nowadays, of course, we’d cryogenically freeze someone, but apparently such technology hadn’t been perfected in his day.”

  “Are you saying he was on a kind of life support that preserved him just the way he was a hundred and sixty years ago?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t an instantaneous effect, such as we’d get with cyrogenics. Apparently he slowly stopped being alive, in the sense we would think of it, and became part of the machine. Since machines don’t age, he didn’t either. It remains to be seen what the effects on his memory, emotions, and so on might be. You’d almost expect some kind of mental damage, but he seems fine so far.”

  “Maybe the serial number can tell us more,” he suggested, tracing a finger along the pod’s inside edge. A long series of digits, corroded but readable, had been etched in Arabic numerals by a manufacturer on Earth.

  Inya nodded. “It could take a while, assuming anyone recorded the information in the first place. If it were used on a private vessel, for example, the records might be harder to access. And considering it’s been floating out there a long time, they might not have survived for any number of reasons. But we’ll see.”

  “Odd no one ever noticed it before. Surely other vessels must have passed it over the years.”

  “I suppose so, but for some reason it didn’t show up on anyone’s sensors, and if it did they mistook it for debris and left it alone. It might also have drifted for a while and got lost in other space junk.”

  Brent nodded. Cargo vessels often dumped contraband materials if they sensed the Quadrant Patrols getting closer, and failed equipment sometimes got jettisoned for the same reason. This guy was lucky one of the garbage scows that periodically swept the area hadn’t scooped him up and incinerated him along with the refuse. The thought made him shudder.

  Still, Brent knew he didn’t have to remind Inya to stay on the case until she discovered something. Her reptilian brain was captivated by the mystery. Bringing this drifting refugee back to life, in every sense of the word, would be a matter of personal honor to her.

  “Doctor…” the man murmured.

  “Yes?” Inya arched her long, pale green neck forward, the ridges along her spine rippling above her collar.

  “I think I have a name. Sirgi. Not sure if it’s mine…but it’s in my head.”

  “Sirgi.” Inya glanced at Brent, who nodded.

  “All right,” Brent said. “It’s a start.”

  “Yes,” Sirgi repeated. His facial muscles twitched as though he were trying to grin. He didn’t quite succeed. “A start.”

  “You can go if you need to, Captain,” Inya said, nodding at her medikit. “I’ll handle things here and see if I can figure out a way to free him safely from that thing. Probably best if he doesn’t have too many distractions while we work on this.”

  Brent frowned. He could see Inya’s point, and privacy and quiet made sense from a medical standpoint, but something in him ached at leaving Sirgi. Saving him had roused a protective instinct Brent hadn’t even known he had. “All right,” he conceded at last. “Call me if you need me. I’ll be back…Sirgi.”

  “I hope so,” Sirgi rasped.

  Brent returned to duty, but found himself uninterested in his duties, even in the precious cargo they were transporting to the Earth-governed colony on the other side of the Raijin solar system. Painful as it was, he watched every tick of the chronometer and fidgeted through his work. The time seemed to pass as slowly as it had around Sirgi’s pod as it drifted for almost two centuries.

  When his shift was over, he didn’t go to his quarters, but returned instead to the empty cargo bay.

  “Well?” he asked Inya, who was stationed by her portable medical unit, watching the readings from the additional sensors she’d connected to Sirgi. Sirgi himself seemed to be asleep again, though his chest rose a bit more rapidly now than it had when they had first rescued him. “Any information for me?”

  “I ran a database search on the serial number,” she confirmed. “But don’t get too excited. All we could pinpoint was that this unit was manufactured for use as an emergency escape technology about a hundred and sixty Earth years ago. As I feared, most of these models were used on private vessels. That’s going to make tracing it more difficult, since a lot of those ships were privately owned and some even went renegade back then. They wouldn’t have registered the numbers. Still, I’ve contacted the Department of Antiquated Records to see if they can dig up anything.”

  “Do you think Sirgi will recover his memory?”

  “I think there’s a very good chance. See for yourself. He’s resting now, though he’s been getting more talkative. He doesn’t recall much, but it seems he has shadows and flashes of his past. It’s a start.”

  Brent nodded, noting the gleam of healthy sweat on the sliver of his chest that showed through the silver bodysuit he wore. A few dark hairs traveled down into the vee left by the half-open front zipper. Brent was ashamed of himself for his interest in seeing what lay beneath the rest of the suit. Sirgi’s strength and will to live impressed him, and he couldn’t deny that his rugged, square-jawed face attracted him. But he was a patient now, helpless and without memory. It wasn’t fair—hell, it was kind of seedy—to be thinking of him in that way. Yet the more he tried not to, the more Brent found himself fantasizing about what might happen when he did finally rise from that life-support bed.

  As he watched, Sirgi stirred back to awareness.

  “Hey, Sirgi. The doc says you’re recovering slowly but surely. How are you feeling?” he asked.

  Sirgi’s lips curved again in a semblance of a smile attempted by someone who hadn’t smiled in a very long time. “I’m getting there. I can feel my body rejuvenating. I can’t explain it. I just feel stronger. And I can move my neck and arms now, though not my legs.”

  “Your nerves are awakening from the head on down,” Inya told him. “Your legs will be fine, I think, though they’ll be the last thing to move. By the way, did you know you have a few metal parts?”

  “Metal parts? Like what?”

  “Your limbs have implanted synthetic muscles and joints—that was a new technology in your day, usually attempted only on military personnel who’d been disfigured in the line of duty. Does that ring any bells?”

  Sirgi paused as though thinking the suggestion over, but soon shrugged. “None. I’m hopeful it will come back to me, since I’m getting such superb care. Thank you again, Doctor…and Captain.”

  “No problem,” Brent said.

  “Speaking of the military, what kind of ship is this? Are you planetary patrol? Armed forces? Medical aid?”

  “None of the above. Cargo. We deliver supplies to surrounding Earth colonies. Privately owned. Maybe you came from one of them originally, though there weren’t as many in those days.”

  Sirgi nodded. “Any guess is as good as any other at this point. I’m open to suggestion.”

  “That’s the spirit. Get yourself on your feet and we’ll be happy to ease your transition into the land of the living. Looks like your pod dates back more than a century. If that’s true, you’ll have some catching up to do.”

  “Well, I always liked a challenge.” Sirgi paused. “I don’t know why I said that. I haven’t got a clue what I always liked—or didn’t.”

  “It will all come back to you. I’m sure of that.” Brent patted his arm. He caught the slight tilt of Inya’s head. “We’ll let you rest a bit now,” he told Sirgi as he withdrew to consult with Inya outside the cargo bay. Zillah remained behind, watching over Sirgi in her usual silence.

  “I think it’s my duty to warn you not to get too emotionally involved with this case,” Inya said, a touch of embarrassment in her ton
e.

  “Why? Are you afraid he might die? I’m not. Sirgi’s strong. He’s a fighter. I can tell just from looking at him...talking to him.” Brent fixed her with a challenging stare. “Don’t let me down, Inya. I’m counting on you to get him back on his feet.”

  “That is exactly my point.” Inya’s iridescent, multi-colored eyes closed in vertical slits. “You seem very interested in his progress. A bit too much so, in my scientific opinion.”

  “Of course I am! We saved his life.”

  “Be careful, Captain. We know nothing of him yet. Who he is, where he came from.”

  “Neither does he.” Brent sighed and turned a wistful gaze on the closed hatch behind them. “Imagine being a blank slate, ready to start your life over in a whole new century. Quite a concept, isn’t it?”

  “Would you like that? Is your life a burden?”

  Brent laughed. He should have known Inya wouldn’t be able to resist a chance to psychoanalyze a human. His species fascinated her, though mostly in a detached scientific way. Still, he’d come to consider her a friend in the few short weeks they’d worked together in his father’s company. “No, but just imagine it—waking up in a new era, with no possessions, no memories, no emotional ties. What freedom—you can even create your own name. Hard to know what any of us would do in that situation, isn’t it? We’re all so caught up in duty and responsibility, products of our pasts.”

  “Making up a new name and conveniently forgetting the past is exactly what I’m worried about.”

  Brent scowled. “Oh? You think he might be lying?”

  “It crossed my mind. But I don’t know any more than you do—or he claims to—just yet.” Inya rested a hand on the sleeve of Brent’s jacket. “You need a rest, Captain. Go to your quarters and get some sleep. We’ll call you if anything happens.”

  Brent rubbed the bridge of his nose. He did feel the beginnings of a headache. He had been under stress, starting with his father’s hail and continuing through this increasingly interesting adventure.

  Maybe Inya was right. Maybe he was letting this rescue get to him in a way he shouldn’t. Why did he think Sirgi would be anything but grateful to him and then be off to a new and promising future? Besides, tempting as it was to fantasize about forgetting one’s name and starting over, but that wasn’t him and never would be. He was devoted to his cargo business, which his grandfather had started and expected him to carry on as his father had.

  There wouldn’t, and probably couldn’t, be anything personal between him and Sirgi. He’d done his duty in rescuing the man and nothing more.

  “All right. Buzz me if anything happens. I want to be here. That’s an order.”

  Back in his quarters, Brent showered, pulled on his pajama pants, and lay on his bed, sleeping fitfully at best. All his dreams revolved around being trapped inside that horrible pod. He was drifting endlessly, unable to see past the curved metal lid that had closed over him, struggling to breathe. The claustrophobia was so bad it made him wake up in a cold sweat more than once.

  He was actually relieved when his intercom buzzed an hour before the end of his sleep shift. Groggily he sat up and hit the button.

  “Come on down, Captain.” Inya’s voice was pleased. “You’ll want to see this.”

  “On my way.” Struggling to rouse himself, Brent pulled on his uniform.

  When he got there, to his amazement, Sirgi was standing. He was still in the biosuit, but he looked fit and strong, as though he’d been in the pod less than a day instead of nearly two centuries. He remained a bit shaky on his legs, but he held himself upright by keeping one hand on the pod and one on the back of a chair Inya had brought in. He beamed with pride when he saw Brent.

  Brent also noticed the skintight biosuit left nothing to the imagination. Oh, yes, Sirgi was well built, all right. And if some parts of him were metal, others were clearly forged from hard male flesh.

  “Not quite down for the count, as you can see. Climbed out by myself, though I just about gave poor doc here a heart attack.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s not built like us—her species has three hearts, if I’m not mistaken,” Brent joked, ignoring Inya’s annoyed expression.

  “Yeah? Now that sounds useful.” Sirgi waved a hand over himself. “Anyway, not a scratch on me—except that someone’s replaced my tits with a couple of these damn electrodes.” Pulling his suit open at the chest, he revealed two implanted metal discs on either side of his chest—thankfully not replacing his nipples, as Brent had feared for a moment, but piercing his chest and presumably connecting him to the biosuit and from there to the pod.

  “Can they be removed?” Brent asked Inya.

  “Hard to say until we conduct a thorough examination. Now that he’s up, I’m going to run a full body scan in a proper examining room.”

  “I still can’t quite believe we’re looking at a man who’s over a hundred and sixty years old…and yet in another way, he’s practically a newborn.”

  “Well, I’ll be sure to call you back if we need babysitting,” Inya said, her reptilian eyes slitting. Brent knew she was getting irritated with him, but he didn’t care.

  Brent moved closer to where Sirgi stood, though a bit precariously. He balanced himself while he continued stretching out his arms and legs, examining his hands and bare feet as if he’d never seen them before.

  “Look almost human now, don’t I? Told you,” Sirgi said with a wink. “I owe you my life, Captain.”

  “It’s Brent, please. We’re not a military vessel. And I’m glad to see you so much better.” Brent clapped him on the shoulder. “I’d like to take credit, but whoever designed those pods is the one to thank. Of course, we can do a lot more in today’s world. You’ll be amazed by what you see.”

  “I don’t doubt that, but you forget I have nothing to compare it to.”

  “Your memory will come back. Inya will do everything she can. We’re a cargo ship, so we don’t have anything in the way of psychiatric counseling, but I’m sure she’s got a few ideas about neurological tests she could run, and the rest of my crew and I will help you in any capacity you want.”

  “I think you’ll find I’m sound enough up here,” Sirgi said, tapping his forehead. “Of course, there’s always the possibility that my life just wasn’t all that interesting, and I forgot.”

  “I seriously doubt that.” Brent peered at him. What had he been in his previous life? A starship captain? Border patrol? A warrior? He had the look of a military man, as Inya had suggested—hard muscles, short dark hair, steely, determined eyes.

  “Okay, mister, down the hall to my examining room,” Inya ordered Sirgi. “We’ll report any findings to the captain.”

  “I’m going back on duty. Let me know what happens as soon as you can.”

  “Right you are,” Sirgi said. His smile came more easily now. Its lopsidedness looked natural, and Brent found he liked it quite a bit. “There’s just one thing, Captain—I mean, Brent.”

  “What?” Brent asked. Almost before he could get the last syllable out, Sirgi pulled him into a tight hug that brought their bodies up against each other. He felt Sirgi’s insistent maleness jostle his, triggering his own arousal. He had no doubt Sirgi noticed.

  “Just another expression of my gratitude,” Sirgi said when they broke apart. “Forgive me, but I needed to touch another person—to make sure I wasn’t just hallucinating this whole rescue thing.”

  “Not a problem at all. Like I said, I’m glad you’re recovering.”

  Inya gave him one of those sidelong glances again as she escorted Sirgi from the cargo bay. As a precaution, Zillah followed them with her hand resting on the weapon she carried at her belt. Sirgi didn’t look very threatening, padding along in a bio suit and bare feet. At the same time, Brent struggled not to be too trusting. They knew nothing at all about him. And Inya was right—just because he said he had no memory didn’t necessarily make it true.

  He’d mak
e sure security stayed on him. And he could have guest quarters rather than a cell—but guarded and locked. If Sirgi were a man of honor, he’d understand the need. The precious cargo they were carrying would be a perfect target for pirates, as Hari had suggested. An elaborate scam wasn’t out of the question.

  As he walked to the command center, Brent’s own uniform pants began to feel too tight. If this was a plot by people planning to rob him, they certainly knew his weak spot. He moaned inwardly, thinking of the outlines and contours of Sirgi’s husky body under the biosuit. They had uncovered treasure when they’d found him—or at least, it seemed that way. But Brent knew that appearances could be deceptive. Years of running cargo had taught him not to be too trusting.

  Now he just had to convince the rest of his body.

  Chapter 3

  Brent smiled as he leaned back in his seat and watched Sirgi inhale huge forkfuls of synthetic potatoes smothered in equally synthetic beef-flavored gravy. Though his own crew never tired of complaining about the fabricated food in the mess hall, Sirgi seemed to consider it a gourmet feast. Of course, not enjoying the taste of any food at all for almost two centuries probably made him less than fussy when it came to such matters, but Brent still found his enthusiasm for the simple pleasures of daily life endearing.

  He found many things endearing when it came to Sirgi. At least Inya’s most recent report made him feel less nervous about letting his guard down.

  After polishing off his second plateful of food, Sirgi grinned up at him. “Who knew being in suspended animation would work up such an appetite? Hope there’ll be enough left for your crew when I’m finished.”

  “Don’t worry. Thanks to modern technology, we don’t experience food shortages anymore. The necessary vitamins are extracted and fused into flavored edible polymers. Some people—even a few of the people on board—find that objectionable, but it’s better than starving, I say.”

  “No objection from me,” Sirgi mumbled, washing his food down with a swig of hot coffee.