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And then he felt it, that magical, sensual—click.
Jonathan gave a breathy laugh. “You’ve become quite the philosopher.” His new armor softly squealed as he stood, squared the helmet upon his head, felt it snick into place, heard the seals catch. The door lay just beyond Marcus, and he started for it now. “And you’re dead right about one thing, you know.”
Marcus tracked him, twisting round to keep Jonathan in view as his brother moved for the door. “And that is…?”
“Why, that I love killing,” said Jonathan, easily. “Watch.” His right hand flashed for the back of Marcus’ head, his left shot for the angle of Marcus’ jaw, and then he pushed right, pulled left, hard and fast. There was a sharp pop and then a crunch like a step on gravel. Sighing, Marcus folded at the waist, then slumped until his head touched his knees. His head slewed right, twisted. His eyes were still open. He didn’t blink.
Every nerve tingling, blood roaring through his veins, Jonathan stared at Marcus and said, “Yes, indeed, Brother.” Filtered through speakers, his voice hissed with a curious, susurrant hum, and that suited him because Jonathan now knew that he was separate, apart—and not altogether human. “I do believe you’re on to something.”
About the Author
Ilsa J. Bick is a writer as well as a recovering child and forensic psychiatrist. She is the author of prize–wi
Forthcoming are the Star Trek: Starfleet Corps of Engineers novellas “Lost Time” and “Wounds, Part One” and “Wounds, Part Two.” Also forthcoming is “Bottomless,” in the Star Trek: Voyager a
When she isn’t working—like, yeah, when is that—she lives in (mostly frigid) Wisconsin with her husband, two children, three cats and other assorted vermin. Sometimes she even cooks for them.