Free The Syn-En Solution by Linda Andrews Page A

sarcasm, the man focused on her chest. A burst of yellow light filled the room, highlighting the caduceus tattooed on his forehead. “You may feel a mild discomfort as the probes enter your skin.”
    Nell struggled to reconcile the caduceus with her current treatment. Why would a man with a medical insignia torture her? Unless he wasn’t out to harm her. Hadn’t the Grace Jones wannabe said Nell would get along with a bang? A stabbing pain flared up her chest, then a burning filled her veins like an IV running too fast. Cold air stung her teeth as she inhaled. “Mild! That hurts like an infected hangnail. Why didn’t you give me some sort of local anesthetic to numb the area?”
    “It would have reacted with the peroxides.” His grip on her breasts loosened, but his attention didn’t waver from the damaged skin. “I do not believe you would survive the explosion. You are quite fragile.”
    Nell snorted. Fragile people didn’t survive the pandemic of 2010 or the North American invasion that followed. She was a survivor, yet somehow she sensed that someone had changed the rules, if not the game entirely. “That woman injected something in my breasts to make them explode?”
    The doctor nodded. “A peroxide and a catalyst, that when mixed together create a very powerful bomb.”
    Nell pulled her legs closer to her body, wanting desperately to cover herself or to fall asleep and wake up safe in her bed. “That’s just wrong.”
    “Fortunately you knew to keep still and the zero gravity allowed much of the catalyst to bubble out through the damaged skin.”
    Her subconscious had told her to keep still. She hated it when her mother was right. “I couldn’t very well move could I? I mean that stuff paralyzed me too.”
    “It did not.” The doctor ran his index finger over her damaged tissue then leaned forward. “You are not healing.”
    “I’ve always been a slow healer, and I bruise easily too.” She glanced at the people holding her. From the corner of her eye she watched the admiral nod.
    They released her.
    Nell drifted toward the ceiling. Dammit. What the heck is going on here? She grasped the doctor’s shoulder and pulled. He jerked back as she rubbed against him. Honestly, he played with her boobs seconds ago and now he gets prudish. She forced herself to look him in the face. His features were still blurry. “I don’t suppose you have a survival blanket nearby? “
    He looked at the Admiral. She could almost feel the nonverbal communication passing between the two.
    Nell sighed. Their rigid adherence to the chain of command was almost laughable. Still, her street skills were rusty; she should have appealed to the leader. “Haven’t any of you guys ever been cold?”
    Not to mention exposed. Despite their disregard for her state of undress, Nell wanted to cover herself so much she could taste it.
    The admiral stepped forward, eased her grip off the doctor, then jerked something out from under his sleeve, shook it out then draped a silver blanket around her body. “We are not guys, nor are we people.”
    Nell pinched the crinkly ends closed and grabbed for the admiral’s arm. Her feet still did not touch the ground.
    “Yeah, right. What are you, ET? I know a human being when I see one.” Beginning to drift toward the ceiling again, Nell reached for his shoulder. Her hand bumped something warm and smooth and made a hollow thumping sound. A mask. They wore masks. Latching onto his arm, muscle and sinew bunched under her fingers and palm. Most soldiers kept in good shape but these men’s bulk surpassed even that. What branch of Special Ops were they? She smiled. Special Ops explained a lot. “Give me a break. I’m not that dense, you’re soldiers. Of course, if your cover story includes ET or little gray men, I’m not going to be able to repeat the official details with a straight face. Should I be wearing a mask too? Is there some sort of toxic hazard around?”
    The admiral pushed his mask