of the square, metal-walled room—apart from him. Did it miss him? Suit’s external systems flexed, blinked on, or shifted off in response to his mental commands. Suit looked forlorn. “Satisfied?”
“Satisfactory.”
Something pounded on the closed slidedoor that connected to the Spine hallway. Matt smiled ruefully. “Is that Eliana?”
“Who else?” Mata Hari said sarcastically. “Do you want her in here?”
“Please.”
The door hissed open. An angry Eliana strode in, hands fisted up, black hair flying, green eyes blazing. She was also quite naked. “Who the Hades gave this computer the right to strip me naked, decontaminate me, and hold me in Detention! Plus keep me from checking on my Employee!”
Matt sat up, winced to a slight ache over his right ear, and waited patiently until the optical fiber sensors retracted into the examination platform. “You did. By hiring me as your Vigilante. And by sharing the same taxi when I was attacked.” He swung his legs around and let them hang over the table’s edge, bemused by Eliana’s outrage. “Are you all right?”
“I’m flattered by your concern! The taxi’s internal fields shielded me from the shrapnel.” She crossed arms under full breasts and looked up at the ceiling voice of Mata Hari . “I presume your computer has told you what it did to my brother’s Trade station?”
“You presume wrong.” She looked down to him, her manner now uncertain. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
She frowned intently, glanced again at the ceiling, then fixed on him. “There is now a two-meter wide hole in Zeus Station—burned from the interior out to Lock Three. And all caused by that combat suit of yours!”
“I should hope so.” She scowled at his nonchalance. Matt waved his hands at her, trying to calm her down. “Hey, take it easy, Eliana. Suit was only doing what it was programmed to do—protect you, protect me, and get us both to safety on Mata Hari. How long has it been since we were bombed?”
“Four minutes,” she said, glancing around at Biolab’s equipment as if she were a bull searching for a glass factory. “But your computer didn’t have to strip me naked and shut me out of—”
“Three minutes, forty-three seconds, and 800 femtoseconds is the time since the attack,” corrected Mata Hari primly, as the AI took form in a nearby holosphere, wearing her white lacy Victorian dress with the low-cut bodice, her black hair piled atop her amber-skinned face. “And Patron, you neglect to mention that my Defense Remote met you and Suit halfway into the Station. After that, you were entirely safe within its cargo hold.”
“You, you computer, you—” Eliana choked up, unable to finish. Instead, she glared at the holoimage of his partner.
“Eliana,” Matt said soothingly. “Please, don’t blame Mata Hari for being a good protector of us both.”
She blinked, seemed to gain control of her anti-AI feelings, and nodded stiffly. “Maybe so. But I was worried about you and it . . . it wouldn’t tell me anything about you!”
Matt felt touched by her concern for him the person, even if she still hadn’t adjusted to Mata Hari as a person, as someone to treat like people. “Thank you for your concern, Patron.” Eliana shivered, hugged her ribs more tightly, and looked at him the way a naked woman looks at a naked man. A pink blush began spread across her face and chest as she realized how her Clan might view their informality. He grinned. “Hey, we’ll get you clothed soon enough. And Mata Hari won’t tell your Nest-mates about this little episode.”
Eliana eyed him as if deciding whether to stay angry over his public mention of her discomfort. She finally smiled. “Yeah, this scene would look pretty strange to my uncles.” Eliana shivered again, her bare skin showing chill-bumps in the most delightful places. “Do we have to stay in this icebox?”
“Nope.” Matt jumped off the table. “But I have to check out Suit
“Satisfactory.”
Something pounded on the closed slidedoor that connected to the Spine hallway. Matt smiled ruefully. “Is that Eliana?”
“Who else?” Mata Hari said sarcastically. “Do you want her in here?”
“Please.”
The door hissed open. An angry Eliana strode in, hands fisted up, black hair flying, green eyes blazing. She was also quite naked. “Who the Hades gave this computer the right to strip me naked, decontaminate me, and hold me in Detention! Plus keep me from checking on my Employee!”
Matt sat up, winced to a slight ache over his right ear, and waited patiently until the optical fiber sensors retracted into the examination platform. “You did. By hiring me as your Vigilante. And by sharing the same taxi when I was attacked.” He swung his legs around and let them hang over the table’s edge, bemused by Eliana’s outrage. “Are you all right?”
“I’m flattered by your concern! The taxi’s internal fields shielded me from the shrapnel.” She crossed arms under full breasts and looked up at the ceiling voice of Mata Hari . “I presume your computer has told you what it did to my brother’s Trade station?”
“You presume wrong.” She looked down to him, her manner now uncertain. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
She frowned intently, glanced again at the ceiling, then fixed on him. “There is now a two-meter wide hole in Zeus Station—burned from the interior out to Lock Three. And all caused by that combat suit of yours!”
“I should hope so.” She scowled at his nonchalance. Matt waved his hands at her, trying to calm her down. “Hey, take it easy, Eliana. Suit was only doing what it was programmed to do—protect you, protect me, and get us both to safety on Mata Hari. How long has it been since we were bombed?”
“Four minutes,” she said, glancing around at Biolab’s equipment as if she were a bull searching for a glass factory. “But your computer didn’t have to strip me naked and shut me out of—”
“Three minutes, forty-three seconds, and 800 femtoseconds is the time since the attack,” corrected Mata Hari primly, as the AI took form in a nearby holosphere, wearing her white lacy Victorian dress with the low-cut bodice, her black hair piled atop her amber-skinned face. “And Patron, you neglect to mention that my Defense Remote met you and Suit halfway into the Station. After that, you were entirely safe within its cargo hold.”
“You, you computer, you—” Eliana choked up, unable to finish. Instead, she glared at the holoimage of his partner.
“Eliana,” Matt said soothingly. “Please, don’t blame Mata Hari for being a good protector of us both.”
She blinked, seemed to gain control of her anti-AI feelings, and nodded stiffly. “Maybe so. But I was worried about you and it . . . it wouldn’t tell me anything about you!”
Matt felt touched by her concern for him the person, even if she still hadn’t adjusted to Mata Hari as a person, as someone to treat like people. “Thank you for your concern, Patron.” Eliana shivered, hugged her ribs more tightly, and looked at him the way a naked woman looks at a naked man. A pink blush began spread across her face and chest as she realized how her Clan might view their informality. He grinned. “Hey, we’ll get you clothed soon enough. And Mata Hari won’t tell your Nest-mates about this little episode.”
Eliana eyed him as if deciding whether to stay angry over his public mention of her discomfort. She finally smiled. “Yeah, this scene would look pretty strange to my uncles.” Eliana shivered again, her bare skin showing chill-bumps in the most delightful places. “Do we have to stay in this icebox?”
“Nope.” Matt jumped off the table. “But I have to check out Suit
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