Futuristic

"I'm afraid we'll have to brave a small crowd on the way out. News of your…return has been hard to keep quiet."

"I should imagine." I smile congenially at him and allow myself to be led from the room. The crowd doesn't surprise me, though small is an understatement. I've sensed them building outside all along. I brace myself, grateful for the doctor's arm, and we emerge onto a long walkway. The floor drops away on both sides, and the spaces are filled with craning faces. I'm torn between scanning the assembly for some shred of recognition and shying from any contact with the eager expressions. In the end, I dart sparing glances at random people. Nothing stirs any memory.

Halfway across the space I give up and choose to focus on the long strips of blue-tinted lights that line the walls. I think that nothing seems familiar here because this isn't where I belong. Perhaps, I think, this is a prison after all.

I hate to consider the doctor as a participant in my capture, perhaps even directly responsible for removing my memory, but the possibility can't be ignored. It is, given the unbelievable alternative that is their story, quite likely closer to the truth. Yet I allow myself to be led toward another curving doorway. I have few options, few options for now.

I concentrate, instead, on how playfully the blue light interacts with the metal of my dress. The fabric flashes and shoots refracted fire as I move in it. I let myself be mesmerized by the effect. The door is near, and Doctor Williams slows as we approach it. My irritation surges again. Another foreign hallway beyond this one? Another unfamiliar room? Suddenly, I have no wish to continue peaceably. I have no interest in allowing myself to be led to any destination they've selected. I scan sideways from the door, searching for a pathway of my own choosing, wherever it may lead.

I'm struck dumb by a familiar face. He stands back from the others, aside from them, but near the door. Where I'm most likely to see him, I decide. He leans against the gray wall and looks at the ceiling. The strong muscle of his jaw tenses. Lines etch across his rugged face. My chest lurches at the sight of him. I search for a name to assign to the single familiar person in this crowded hall. The set shoulders and staggered legs ring through my mind looking for something to cling to.

Exact memories, like the name I want to put to him, shy from my grip. The feeling sweeps through me of something just on the tip of my tongue, too elusive to pin down. I'm frantic to snare it, but it dances out of reach. I realize that I've stopped walking.

His red hair crowns a complexion nowhere near pale. He shifts his gaze downward slowly, with great intention, and meets my gaze. The intensity in his eyes belies his casual pose. He knows me.

In an instant, I'm lifted from the room, my mind trapped in darkness without a body to attach to. I drift without direction or purpose in a sea of warmth. Softly, the singing whispers, return, return to me. The persistent voice hovers near desperate, saturated with emotion. The words pull me down.

I come back to myself. The doctor tugs gently at my arm. Concern scrawls across his face. I see the question there. "I'm fine," I say, stepping in line with him once more. "Get me out of here, okay?" And we pass through the second doorway together.

At home, she changed clothes, loving the feel of jeans and a t-shirt, ran through a few chores and was thinking about trying to sleep when her phone went off.

"Sama? What is it?"

"They just came in. You have about half an hour."

"On my way."

With no time to waste, she sprinted down the path and made a beeline for the commissary. The family was indeed there having a meal and with no decorum at all, Roxy skidded to the side of their table.

"Greetings, I am Roxanne Nelson, Inventory Master of this station and I realize it is rude, but I need to ask a question."

Taken aback, the father spoke, "I am Retingar, this is my mate, Ashla, and our daughter, Minara. What is the question that you would ask?"

She nodded her head to each as the introduction was given. "What is the significance of the song in the night?"

The three Drai blinked at her and the male raised his wings slightly in surprise. "Where did you hear of the song?"

"It doesn't matter. What is it?"

Minara grimaced. "The song of an ancient Drai calling to his mate. That is why we are here. There is a dragon sleeping on this world and he is about to wake. When he wakes, he will start the song and I will go to him."

"So, if you hear the song, he is calling you?" She was having trouble dodging the crux of her problem.

"That is the history. I have not heard it yet and we have been here for some weeks." Minara shrugged.

"Thank you for the answer. I am sorry to have disrupted your meal." She started to turn and leave, but then had to ask, "What if he is waking, but he is calling someone else?"

Minara blinked, so her father filled in, "Then we will simply leave. There is none who should stand between a dragon and his true mate. It would be an insult that might cost a life."

"Ah. Well. Good luck then."

She was almost to the door when Ashla called out, "How long has it been going on then?" Her tone was amused. She had heard what Roxy had not been saying.

Roxy turned her head and said over her shoulder. "A month."

"Then I would go in search of him soon, or he will come to you. If that is the situation, then the entire base may be in jeopardy. The shifters were said to be patient only to a limit before they take their mate hunt into their own hands." She was chuckling.

Roxy hazarded a quick look at the table where they sat. Retingar was shocked, Ashla amused and Minara relieved. She gave them a quick nod and left the commissary.

She sprinted to her house and closed her eyes the instant that she lay down. She was fully clothed. If she needed to follow his song to find him and shut him up, she would do it.

She desperately needed a good night's sleep.

“What brings the Sector Guard to my door, so to speak?” She kept eye contact with him, but it was difficult. Her dark brown gaze was no match for his silver one.

“We have received a report that you are exhibiting symptoms of being a candidate for the Sector Guard.”

She blinked. “Who are you?”

His cheeks bronzed even more. “I am sorry, my name is Razer. I am one of the Guardsmen out of Udell Base.”

“What report could you possibly have gotten on me?” She was curious. She drummed her fingers on the edge of the chair.

“That you have a talent for animating large pieces of equipment.”

Ilsa’s lips twitched in an effort to squelch the run of amusement that his statement caused. The double entendre was only in her mind. “I have never declared any such thing. What could have possibly triggered a report?”

He looked at her legs for a moment. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“What is wrong with your legs?”

She giggled. It was nice that he was direct. “Nothing. Well, they are a little weak, but there is no reason for the chair.”

“Then why are you in it?”

“Because they are afraid I will have a seizure when I am standing, so they have alarmed the chair to keep me from falling. It’s stupid, but I can’t check out under my own steam.” She snorted and wiggled her toes, but when she shifted her weight, the chair chirped a warning. “See?”

“So, they are imprisoning you here?” His voice took on a harsh tone that was endearing to her and seemed to surprise him.

“Yes and no. If I go without a seizure for six months I will be free to go.”

His lips twitched. “Why can’t you?”

“Because, for example, if I did have talent, it might read as a seizure and my body might be locked in an unconscious state. Hypothetically.”

He smiled outright. “Indeed. Hypothetically.” He chuckled, a rusty sound that made her wish she was out of that chair and preening for his attention so that the smile would bathe her in its light.

“What would your talent be, hypothetically?”

He already knew, she could see it in his face. “Well, if I were to have a seizure, as they call it…I would send my conscious mind into a mobile machine and use it like my own body.” She smiled. “Hypothetically.”

“What kind of machines?”

“Walkers, transports, boats, anything that can move, but you knew that already.” She squinted at him and he grinned again.

“I do. Would you be willing to leave Pahnnan?” It was a formal request and she read it as such.

“I would. There is nothing left for me here.” Once her parents had died, there was no one left to miss her.

“Excellent. I will make the arrangements.” He rose and bowed to her.

She smiled. “That’s it?”

“That is it. You have already been cleared to leave the surface and the training centre at Udell is awaiting a woman’s touch.” His lips were twitching again.

This was ridiculous. She set the controls to follow the beacon at three thousand feet and went to the emergency supplies. She hooked the mask on and felt immediate relief as her preferred atmosphere blend came into her lungs.

Her ship rocked as something struck the side and she staggered back to the helm as quickly as she could.

"You are not authorized to enter this airspace. Please drop to fifteen hundred feet and wait for additional escort."

She pulled the breather from her face. "I am authorized to be in this airspace, I am a representative of the Sector Guard and you have just assaulted my ship."

A small craft was on her left side bearing the marks of impact with her ship.

"I don't have any record of your clearance. Where are you going?"

"Asher Prime. Please contact the ground control for the authorization specs." She snapped the mask back into place.

He was quiet for a moment and then he said, "Land. Land now! The Asher Prime signal was highjacked and your shuttle has been coated with acid. I don't even want to know if they got something into your ship."

She did a hull integrity check as she started to lose altitude. He was right. She had been coated with acid. A quick check of the interior of the shuttle showed more than a tolerable share of toxins. If she had been a Terran or Azon, she would have been dead. Her placement of the breather had probably saved her life.

She dropped out of the sky as fast as she could. Alarms sounded on every instrument she had and it was a controlled crash that skidded her hundreds of yards before her ship rocked to a halt.

The Archer was dead.

Moving as quickly as she could, she stuffed all of her equipment into a duffel, grabbed her away bag and blew the emergency exit. She took a few steps back, then sprinted through the hole, tumbled on the ground and ran as far away from the hulk of her ship as she could.

The small craft was landing nearby and she approached slowly, her hands out at her sides, carrying her bags.

A man exited the ship and held an object toward her. "Kneel."

She knelt and waited as he approached. The object he was holding was a palm scanner. "You have ingested quite a bit of toxic gasses. I am amazed you are still up and functioning. Nice landing, by the way."

She kept her mask on and watched him as he reached for her wrist. She jerked her arm back.

"Don't worry. This is just to flush your system. It's saline based and shouldn't have too great an effect on you, even with your physiology."

"You're a doctor?" She kept her arm against her chest and glared at him.

"What?"

Oh, her mask. Right. She pulled it away from her face and his eyes widened in surprise. "You're a doctor?"

"I have some medical training. Enough to tell that you aren't from around here." His golden eyes in his smoke grey face were smiling.

She extended her arm and waited for the rush of his emotions and thoughts. She was surprised when his warm, strong fingers made contact. He was calm, relaxed and concerned for her. With this man, instead of drowning in the ocean of emotion, she was standing on the shore and wanted to wade further in.

His black hair waved off his forehead and a lock slipped across his face, making him blow it upward as he tried to clear it. He was holding her wrist with one hand and administering a hypo to her skin with the other.

"What is your name?" Her voice was husky and soft to her own ears. She cleared her throat self-consciously.

"Ruar. Ruar Asher." His lips were curved in a charming smile as he looked into her eyes.

"I am Sector Guardsman Psyche out of Station 13."

"We have been expecting you."

Greythorn had observed many stealthy killers in years gone by, but the apparition, draped completely in mottled grey and black, with a hood that extended from its shoulders to cover its face, sent shivers down his spine, for as the hood billowed slightly, he glimpsed the face within. Dark green, larger than normal, elliptical eyes set wide apart on a pale skinned face above a thin, sharp nose, along with a pointed, cleft chin below a small mouth with thin lips, and no eyebrows, stared at him.

The figures emerging from the bush were uniformly tall, taller than most humans, and lithely built. Even though they surrounded the three companions and were within a stone's throw, they moved with such stealth that Greythorn had still not detected a single footstep. The stark white hair that fell to the warrior's shoulders, within the hood, brought back disturbing rumours of a race long since believed extinct to Greythorn's mind. He could see pointed ears flicking back and forth, examining every sound before the hunter placed a foot cautiously forward. It seemed that the Elwarri were not a legend after all and it looked as if they were going to be killed by them. The figure before Greythorn, lifted one hand off its bowstring to make several intricate finger gestures. In response, the bulk of the band melted back into the forest, and still Greythorn had not heard a twig snap to betray any movement.

There were five thousand Qooyo words for pain, three thousand for death in darkness, five hundred for being buried alive. Eventually, many miners became addicted to drugs, including Ente. But most of their stories were hard to translate.

I put away my tablet and ate. A woman in a turquoise jumpsuit entered the room. Without warning, she jumped onto the opposite end of the table and twirled and faced the door. Suddenly, the female in turquoise pulled out a knife and crouched.

The door opened. A stout Qooyo miner entered and headed toward the woman in turquoise. At the same time, she lunged at him. Both fell on the floor. Halfway down the table, the chrome woman stood, blocking my view. I got up.

The woman in turquoise swung at the stout miner—her knife missed his arm and she stumbled onto the floor. The dark tan lady moved in front of me. I leaned to the right as her adversary punched the woman in turquoise, striking her face and she crashed to the floor. After reaching down, he dragged her limp body into the passenger compartment.

Why did he punch her?

Someone else in the room might know. I aimed my tablet at the three Qooyo miners and my blank screen appeared. Their firewalls were on, the tablet couldn’t decipher what they were saying. I aimed the tablet at the bearded miner, hoping to find out why the other miner had punched the woman.

Text read. Srn, Kep, rin, meaningless phrases caused by jamming scrolled and faded.

More text enlarged. Dansra, sa, nex... Nonsense. Suddenly, it vanished.

I aimed the tablet at the tall miner. The screen remained blank.

I pointed the tablet at the female with a tiny nose.

Text scrolled. Diin knew, rin, kah. A translation popped up. You don’t have any money either.

I aimed it at the three women and ... white noise, encrypted conversations enlarged.

Then I pointed it at the woman in metallic blue. The screen remained black, blank. Text appeared. It, cah, min, yes, cah min. A translation enlarged. Why didn’t you tell me before? You’re a fool. Then this meaningless conversation dissipated.

A pop up alert slid across the screen. Mode 15, Mode 16, Mode 17. The woman in blue kept switching modes, blocking my attempts to find out why the miner had punched the woman. I put the tablet away and ate.

A voice in the interior com had her concentrating on how to respond. Eventually, she figured out the com system. "Phase, how are you doing?"

In her mechanical voice, she replied. "Feels weird, but I am fairly comfortable. You?"

"I am fine. Just catching bugs in my teeth."

She popped the pilot hatch. "Come inside. I am not using the chair."

"What? Where are you?"

"Everywhere that is part of the mech. Come inside."

His long limbs slid through the hatch and the part of her that felt a surge of lust was squelched as she kept striding through the forest. He certainly was pretty. Perhaps a deep violet for a team colour. That would suit them both, as well as provide a dark colour for concealment before battle.

"You are serious. You really aren't in here."

"I beg to differ. I am everywhere and you are now behind the strongest shields this suit can manage." The steps of the suit became less jarring with every stride. She made the shocks as effective as she could.

"How bad was the suit?"

"It was neglected and it was unarmed. I have corrected that."

He grinned, breaking the Rupture mask that he wore. "How do you do that? We couldn't figure it out at the museum."

"I think it has to do with molecular transfer. The same as my ability to become one with objects."

He leaned back in the pilot's chair and put his feet up on the console. "Explain it to me."

"I really can't. It isn't the sort of thing I could have analyzed. I touch something and feel the intent in the object, the love or care that it needs or wants, then I step into it and give it what it needs to be the best it can be."

"That is fascinating. You can do this with anything?"

"Well. It has to be large enough for me to walk into, but after that, it seems to be fairly open. At the museum, there was a tank I could have used, but it was filled with a dark energy by its previous occupants. It wanted to kill and there were children in the way. I wouldn't use that."

He looked surprised. "They have emotions?"

She thought about it as the mech climbed a hill. "More or less. They are left behind by the owners, operators or the assemblers. Traces of their thoughts and purpose."

"How are you speaking to me?"

"I have altered the com unit. You are hearing thought to voice."

"How does it feel to have me inside you?"

Caught unawares by the fury of the onslaught, the formation broke and scattered, whirling around to try and regroup for another attack. But Holt had no intention of giving them time to finish whatever maneuver they had planned. "Price, magnetize your hull, then lock onto the underside of my ship! We're getting the hell out of here! Now!"

Without a word Price activated the magnetic clamps and rolled the ship to slam the plates together. But not before he fired a full spread of missiles at their attackers. He hadn't bothered to use his particle beams as their power level and range made them less than effective against what he presumed would be full combat armor, but the missiles were powerful enough to do some damage to the ships. And failing that, they did set up enough interference to give them a few more seconds to complete the maneuver.

Price shouted over the Comm, "I'm in place. Controls neutral. You can go at your option!"

Price noted himself falling into old habits as he reverted to the jargon of his days in D-force. He found himself enjoying it despite the situation.

Thanks to the inertial dampeners, Baler, Amnical, Rosin, and Simone sat strapped in while Price performed the last move, nearly oblivious to the twists and turns the ship was going through. Simone, still trying to find more about the infection, was ignoring the buffeting, while Baler watched a sensor screen, searching for the carrier he knew was out there somewhere, with another wave of fighters just waiting for the chance to release them. Why they hadn't yet was beyond him, but he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

On the bridge of the Nightwolf, Colton walked onto it with Kelen one step behind. The area of the bridge was large enough to accommodate them as well as the normal crew without crowding, but Colton still hung back on the side to stay out of the way.

Holt acknowledged their entrance with a curt nod, before returning his attention to the battle outside.

"Can you see anything else out there? There has to be a carrier some place!"

"If it is, it's laying to outside of sensor range. Either that or they've got some new kind of stealth tech! Either way, I got nothing sir!" the Ensign on sensor monitoring said, afraid he was failing in some way and trying his best to make up for it.

"Price, keep scanning for that thing! I know it's out there somewhere! It has to be! Those things couldn't have made it through Earth space without being challenged."

"We already came to that conclusion," Kelen said, leaning over to almost whisper into Holt's ear. "But there was another reason. They use charged ships rather than any type of reactor. Once they go down, they need..." Kelen had a thought suddenly. "They need to be recharged! That could explain why they haven't sent a second wave yet. They don't have enough recharged yet! It was only a few hours ago that they sent the attack against the plant. That could be your chance Captain. Take these out and we've got a chance."

"You heard him, guys. Take these out and we can live through this!"

A chorus went up of "aye sir" and "yeah" on both the bridge and throughout the ship via an open Comm. The crew of the Nightwolf prided itself on being as tough as need be, and in this, one of the few real chances they'd had to show what they could do, they were not about to turn in anything less than a stellar performance.

Kelen wasn't finished yet though. "I'd say our best bet is to head for the inner sectors. You can use one of your shuttles to make contact once we get close enough to get a real time signal so we won't spread the contamination any further. Then we can..."

"Kelen you might be the best businessman in the universe, but your strategy reeks!" The voice belonged to Baler.

Andra Nickles fired up her engines with a wave at the Guardsman watching her leave Morganti. The babies in Fixer's arms waved back on their momma's behalf. A fresh batch of suits and armour boxes for Udell base were stowed in the hold and she was on her way.

"This is the Guarding Flight, Alliance courier, clearing the Morganti base with a flight path for Udell base. Please confirm."

It was second nature to check in with the ground crew when she left. The tech she was carrying was highly confidential and experimental to the point of dangerous.

"Acknowledged, Andra. Keep it in a straight line this time."

"Yeesh, play chicken in a meteor storm once and I never hear the end of it." She was smiling as she lifted off and went through the pre-jump checks on the way out of Morganti's atmosphere.

Her halo was implanted in her skull and her controls responded to her thoughts. Working on the Sector Guard support staff allowed her to experience and experiment with tech she had never dreamed of back on Earth.

It still struck her as amazing that she had been one of the chosen Volunteers to leave her world and family behind. She had been a courier back on Earth as well. Her shining skill was her inability to get lost. It was so much a part of her that she had never even considered that it could be a talent until the assessors threw her into situations, mazes and even blindfolded her in the trials to prove it to her.

Once out of the atmosphere, she laid on the thrusters while she did final checks on her jump systems. The jump markers loomed and she cubed her position between them. Orientation in three-dimensional space was a skill that came as naturally as her navigational talent.

Andra leaned back in her seat, relaxed her palms on the sensors at the edge of her seat and took a few deep breaths. She opened the gateway in her mind and pictured her destination. She sent a pulse through the jump beacons via her halo and they synched with those near Udell. A sliding wrench and she was in two places at the same time.

The Guarding Flight settled into the Udell beacon space a moment before alarms started blaring and the ship started shaking. "What in hell?"

She was still weak from the jump when air began to hiss out of the seals on the ship. Outer displays showed a brilliant collection of lights and particles writhing around the ship. "Udell base, this is the Guardian Flight, courier Andra. My ship is under attack by a particulate storm and engines are unresponsive. I am in distress. Life support is failing and I have no ability to eject and run."

"Andra, stay put. We are coming to get you." Guardian's voice was calming, but Andra knew that with her seals failing, her life support would soon be useless. She would soon be cold and lifeless in the vastness of space.

"I will wait with bated breath."

"Funny stuff. Do what you can to stay alive."

"Will do." Releasing her restraint harness, she moved as rapidly as she could as her ship lost gravity.

Particulates flowed into her shuttle and danced around in a light and flowing pattern. Andra batted them out of the way as the grips of the emergency breather fought her.

Breathable air was becoming scarce, small particulates made their way into her lungs as she fought to free the breather.

More particles made it into her body. She was faint from the lack of oxygen and ice was starting to pool in her limbs. Her knees gave way and she slumped to the deck with the certainty that death was coming.

The particulates swirled, becoming thick tentacles that lifted her gently before surging into her mouth and nose. There was no pain, only the feeling of being bathed in warmth as the particles danced outside and within. A curiosity and joy that she knew were not her own filled her from the inside out as the world went dark.

“I wouldn’t choose anywhere else. If you run into her, ask Pilot about it in more detail. As the first Guardsman, she might have an insight that I lack.”

Tricia made a face at the monitor and laughed outright as the image of a hand with the middle finger extended came up on the screen. “Charming, Aggie.”

“I do try. We are coming up on Morganti. Star Breaker is en route to escort the shuttle in. The staff from the base has already made contact and will be loading you into their shuttle. This is where I wish you good luck. Once your bubble is unhooked, I won’t be able to speak to you.”

“I know. It has been wonderful to have you to talk to though. Those stiffs at the Citadel didn’t even want me to have a book in here.”

“I have passed your appreciation to the captain. I had several packs of cards made for crew members and he parted with his personal set.”

Tricia swept the cards into a pile and tapped them square. “Would he like them back?”

“You know you are under contagion protocols. Anything in that room that isn’t you is up for scorching.”

She grumbled silently. Her talent had been refined and honed by the Citadel to the point where she could simply touch, speak to or be in the same room with someone and they would go from irritated to placid in an instant. Her very voice was considered toxic and even Aggie had to use an audio filter so as not to be touched by her talent.

Talent or curse, Tricia couldn’t make up her mind. She was on the fence as to what the classification for her condition was.

“The Morganti crew is here. Good luck, Tricia.”

“Thanks for the sympathetic ear, Aggie. I hope to see you soon.”

A laugh came through the speakers as the door to the hold opened to display four friendly faced base staff. “See me or hear me?”

“Whatever. It was nice to have another human to talk to.”

“Same here—” Her voice cut off as the staffers disconnected the leads to the walls of Tricia’s bubble.

Thick layers of clear plexi were sealed and without the air coming in through the umbilical, she had less than an hour. It was a good thing that the crew that moved her was efficient.

They trundled her out of the bay in which her bubbled had been installed and into a shuttle bay where a large transport vehicle was waiting.

Something was wrong. There was no Sector Guard logo on the side of the ship. Frantically, Tricia ran to the com and tried to connect, but there was no answer.

Her escort noted her frenzy and moved quickly, their eyes keeping a look out for any members of the ship’s crew. Tricia’s heart sank when a staff member from the Deckar came around the corner and one of her escorts blasted him.

She was being kidnapped and she couldn’t get out of the damned cage!

“Technically, yes,” she said. Collette made a noise to her right. Lierra had nearly forgotten her cousin in her fury to prove herself to a complete stranger. Now she heard the girl shifting from foot to foot. No doubt, nervous at the situation, at the man’s blatant disregard of their status.

“You’ve left something off.” His eyes narrowed. “There’s a but hanging on the end of that statement.”

“Yes,” Lierra stared straight back at him. Behind her, Colley squeaked. “Personally, I prefer his earlier works. The later pieces lack his initial passion.”

“But certainly, you’d admit they exhibit a great deal more skill?”

“Skill, yes, but without the emotion. I saw Woman with Yellow Veil yesterday…”

The man snorted at her, actually snorted.

“You dislike it? I’d say it’s possibly his best work.”

“I certainly hope not,” he said. “It’s sloppy, sentimental and amateurish.”

“Quite easy to say, I imagine, from the sidelines.”

“It’s widely considered,” He stole her earlier words. “That Ecks’ work became progressively more sophisticated as he mastered his medium.”

“Mastery is not a fair trade-off for passion.” Lierra refused to be unnerved, though a shadow of concern blossomed in her thoughts. There was something about this man, something intense that went beyond his fine clothes and long black gloves. “The early paintings had a wild edge, something raw and unchecked—”

“Reckless abandon?” The corner of his mouth twitched into an amused smile.

“Yes, in a way,” Lierra answered. He’s enjoying this, she thought. In truth, so was she. The debate topped Trent’s occasional, Hey babe, what you doodling? by a landslide.

“Sloppiness is no substitute for craft.”

“Craft is good,” she said. “But without the raw emotion it can come across as sterile.” Behind her, Colley let out another squeak.

“Sterile?” His eyes widened. Both of his eyebrows raised in a startled stretch. A warning bell chimed in the back of Lierra’s mind.

He stepped forward and gave the Ecks a good long stare, tucking one of his hands into the front of his coat and tilting his head sharply to the side.

“Interesting perspective,” he said. “Unconventional, but interesting.”

Lierra had no idea if he referred to the painting or her comments, but the chime of alarm escalated. She heard sirens in her head, stared at the glove tucked into his doublet. She darted a helpless glance in Collette’s direction. Her cousin inspected her own feet, demur, unhelpful. Lierra scrambled for something to say, but he spun away from the painting before her brain supplied any answer.

“It has been a pleasure.” He bowed, a stiff, formal gesture that might have soothed her had it happened ten minutes ago. “I look forward to more conversation over dinner, Lady Darvid.”

She stood frozen, knowing from the heat spreading across her cheeks that she blushed and that he noticed. The man knew exactly who she was. Her brain whirled. She managed a rather breathless, “Likewise,” and watched him pass, stride across the room and make his exit. The Gallery doors swung closed in slow motion.

“That was Forrest Ecks, wasn’t it?” She turned to where Collette waited. The girl’s horrified expression answered for her. Forrest Ecks, of course it was.

Eiwyn threw the covers back. The rustle of the sheets seemed loud in the quiet of the room. Slowly, she placed her feet on the cold wooden floor and slid out of bed. Draven rolled over, his hand resting on her pillow. Heart pounding, she tiptoed her way to the door. Grabbing the knob, she thanked everything holy that she hadn't latched it when she came to bed.

Draven let out a long snore. His hand moved over her empty pillow as though searching for her. Please don't let him wake up. Eiwyn opened the door a little more than a crack and slipped through. If she woke her husband, he would see to it that she went nowhere. She couldn't let him stop her. She knew he would try. He had put his foot down and she was sneaking under it.

Barefoot, she padded her way down to the room they reserved for opening their portals. Two months ago, she'd had a vision, one she couldn't ignore. If what she had seen was true, the future of the entire universe was at stake. Now was the time to act.

Someone, somewhere, played with forces they didn't understand. One couldn't jump from dimension to dimension willy-nilly without consequences. Her people could, but they were the only exception. They didn't need the help of machines, energy or chemicals to open a dimensional rift. They merely needed the power stored within their bodies since birth. Yet, someone had started to do just that and it was ripping holes in the very fabric of the universe. She had to do something and with her sight, she may be the only person who could.

Entering the room, she closed and locked the door. The thick wood wouldn't keep Draven out, but it would slow him down just enough. Waving her arms nervously, she hummed a soft tune and the air rippled in front of her. Soon, the other side of the room blurred as the transparent rift opened before her.

A loud roar had her looking toward the door with tears in her eyes. It would be years before she would see Draven again. Yet, Eiwyn knew what she must do. It was for the good of all. The entire universe depended on her ability to escape her home and jump to the correct world. Eiwyn blew a kiss toward the door. Tears filled her eyes as she heard the pounding of her husband's feet upon the wooden floor. "I'll be back, my love…eventually."

She stepped through the rift confident that the energy would take the path of least resistance directly to the world she needed to visit. One jump, one world, a few decades and with luck, all would soon be put right.

Working in the medical facility of the Citadel was fulfilling and the knowledge she gained about a vast array of species was interesting and added to the other areas of study that she had taken on.

Regular mail from her brother kept her informed of his activities and he had indeed headed into the job of Alliance bodyguard.

“Healer Gralial, you have a visitor.”

Gray finished setting the bone of the patient and let her assistants complete the sedation. It was an altered Selna under her hands and she had learned early on, to her surprise, that she could not heal genetically altered beings. She reset them back to their birth specifications.

After cleaning her hands, she exited the medical centre and walked to the visitor’s garden. Her brother stood with a negotiator at his side.

Her improved analytical senses could see that it was not the same negotiator that had removed her from the enclave.

“Garoz, welcome to the Citadel.”

He stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead in the manner he had taken on once he had given up on her response to a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for seeing us. I see you have been busy.”

He nodded to her robes and she looked down to note that she was stained with blood from the patient in medical. “An accident. She fell out of a tree.”

“I see. Well, this is Negotiator Barks. She has a proposal for you.”

With Garoz’s arm around her, she looked at the negotiator. “Yes?”

“With the agreement of the Citadel, you are being offered a position as a member of the Sector Guard. You will receive training on Station 13 and then move on to a permanent post at another base.” The featureless mask nodded encouragingly.

“Certainly. Do we leave now or shall I pack?”

The featureless creature in the armour held a posture of surprise. “I had heard about it…yes, you may pack and we will be on our way the moment you are ready.”

Gray nodded and went to get her clothing. She removed the set of robes she was wearing and sent them down the laundry chute. With fresh robes and a small satchel, she was ready for her next assignment. Perhaps there would be more to learn in the Sector Guard.

"Fine. I have three days left here, so court if you can." She took strides toward the bone pile and kept her guard up for any of the returning ants. Topaz knelt next to the pile and flipped out a tarp from her pack. Each human bone was accounted for as she placed them carefully on the fabric.

"They were a scouting party?"

"I think so. Their actual assignment was not divulged to me." She shrugged and kept working.

He joined her in carefully separating the human from animal bones, including the locator tags. A glance at her scanner showed that all five of the people she was looking for were in this pile. It was a sad end to her fourth assignment.

"Do you enjoy your work?" He was trying to engage her in conversation, that much was obvious.

"It has its moments, but it is more of an obligation than work. We aren't given much of a choice and you know it."

"I apologize for my method of getting to know you. It was an act of impulse."

She looked at him in surprise. "Thank you for your apology. I don't think I have ever been the recipient of one before."

He cocked his head while he continued to sort bones. "The humans lack manners. They always have."

She closed her eyes for a moment and sorted through his memories of humans. Dozens of worlds flicked through his mind, including earth. He had known humans when they dressed in long robes with wide sashes and swung swords.

Kirai was much, much older than he appeared.

Topaz fished for the last few pieces of human--a handful of toe bones--and gathered the corners of the tarp together. "Well, since this world is not safe for bipedals, I think I had better be going."

"May I accompany you?"

She laughed, imagining the look on the techs faces if she brought him back with her. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

“Sir, you wanted a demonstration? What did you have in mind?” She used the manners that her mother insisted on.

“I have a shuttle parked over the ridge, in the authorized zone. Nice blend of technology you have here.” He was stumbling over his own words.

Her mother puffed up with pride. “We left the city for the joys of the land. When the city opened up spreads for ecologically friendly family farming, we jumped at the chance. Now that we are situated out here, I think it would be good for Dra to see some sights among the stars.”

Drahali blinked at the swift turn of her mother’s comment. It wasn’t like Nrahali to be that direct. Like most of the Eorghani, she was the soul of etiquette and decorum.

“That may be a possibility. Shall we?” He gestured to the front of the house and she preceded him.

The spot he mentioned was fifteen minutes away. He drew even with her as they marched to his shuttle. “You don’t wear footwear?”

“Not much call for it here. My soles are tough enough to take most punishment and my talent seems to protect me from most damage.”

“How long have you had this talent? Does it strictly have to do with strength?”

“No. I can also do this.” She hopped up on a rock and stomped one bare foot. The rock shattered beneath her sole.

“Is your talent constant, or do you trigger it?” He seemed genuinely admiring.

“Constant. Is yours triggered, or is that too personal a question?” She blushed when she realized that she might have passed on a taboo.

“Considering that I am about to ask you every involved question I can think of, you have the right to reciprocate.” He smiled at her and her stomach flipped. “My talent is activated. I operate under code name, Multi.”

“That brings several images to mind, but I suppose I will learn.”

Tosha knew that she was not the only talent in the family, but for Alara to go on a limb for her was touching. She would be questioned, but she was ready for it, the surety blazed in her eyes.

The moment she was clear of the crowd, the mysterious whirlwind started moving. Tosha closed her eyes as the wind threw grit and dirt into the air. She lost her breath for a moment before two strong arms lifted her in the air. She opened her eyes in surprise to see a man in the centre of the storm.

“Hello.” It was silly, but there was nothing else to say as his solid blue eyes smiled down at her.

“Greetings. Hold tight, we are going airborne.”

She held perfectly still as the whirling surrounded them. With her eyes focussed on her rescuer, she kept herself calm as they passed above the shuttle and into the hills beyond. When they touched down, she was able to breathe again.

Tosha was trembling uncontrollably. “That was…”

He chuckled. “You get used to it. I am Vortex. May I confirm your name?”

“Tosha C’sar. Thank you, but where are you taking me?”

He let out a sharp whistle and a ship appeared in front of them. A shuttle with sleek and graceful lines gleaming in the daylight.

“I am taking you to safety. Your cousin sent an urgent message to the Sector Guard requesting that someone be here today. She was vague, but our own seers confirmed that something would happen here to benefit Teklan base. Here you are.”

The shuttle opened at Vortex’s approach. She was a little surprised to find herself enjoying the novel sensation of being carried. He placed her gently in the nav station and she buckled in out of reflex.

“Not that I am not grateful, but what the hell is going on here?” She turned and faced him.

He laughed as he struck a few keys to start the atmospheric action of the shuttle. They lifted off with no sound and he filled her in. “You are being invited to join the Sector Guard. But, given the Dalpha propensity for caging its talents, we thought to get to you before they did.”

“What of my cousin?” Their height was now such that she could see the tour shuttle on the ground. One lone figure staring up at the sky with patience.

“She will be seen to but through other channels.” Vortex banked sharply and struck a few toggles. “We are going to stealth now. It makes the ship rather twitchy, but she can handle it.”

Tosha scowled, “What do you mean other channels?”

“I don’t know. It is what I was told. You don’t need to worry about her. She will be alive and well in no time. You simply need to have a little trust.”

Her frown increased in severity. “How am I supposed to trust someone I just met?”

“I suppose you will just have to take it on faith.” He hit the thrusters and they shot past the incoming law enforcement.

Her ire died in that moment, fear of the labs in the forefront. She held her breath as they passed those who wanted to shackle her in a cell.

As she watched the stream of ships coursing from the planet to the moon, she made a decision. “Faith is good. I will take this on faith.”

Vortex chuckled and slammed the thrusters into high gear. “I will take it.”

Dr. Frank Wilson and Dr. Richard Siemens positioned themselves in front of a glass tank filled with light green liquid, their hands in the pockets of their white lab coats. Siemens, pretending to be interested in the contents of the tank, instead studied his reflection. He was quite proud of his tan face, dark blue eyes and dimpled chin, and prouder still of his hard body.

* * * *

Wilson, pretending to be interested in the object in front of him, instead stole glances of Siemens, shuddering at the thought of his lover’s masculinity. He wished he could be as virile as Siemens, but reminded himself, he was the intellectual force behind their project. They continued to stare into the tank, Siemens moving wisps of hair from his face and Wilson fighting the longing building in his body. After a few minutes, they returned their focus to the work at hand.

Siemens and Wilson scrutinized a brain floating in the liquid and the two eyes connected to it by a tangle of muscles intertwined with nerves. To keep them from floating around aimlessly, the eyes were contained within small glass boxes attached to the inside of tank. Shiny, needle thin steel probes emanated from various parts of the brain, probes that were attached to electronic equipment that was in turn attached to wires that led to a computer system. Red fluid pulsed through clear plastic conduits connected to the carotid arteries leading to the brain.

Dr. Wilson and Dr. Siemens checked and rechecked the electrodes, examined readouts on the computer screen, and paced back and forth in front of the tank, the armpits of their lab coats slowly becoming drenched with sweat.

“Well, Frank, shall we wake her up now?” Dr. Siemens asked.

“No reason to wait, Richard,” Dr. Wilson replied. “I’ll control the electronics. Cross your fingers.”

Dr. Wilson sat at the computer and tapped in some commands. While he examined the readouts on the LCD screen, Dr. Siemens bent from the waist and stared into the tank.

A robotic feminine voice crackled from a speaker next to the tank. “Where am I?”

Wilson and Siemens covered their mouths, jumped in the air and gave each other high fives.

“Who are you?” the voice asked.

“Now, now, Mrs. Wall,” Wilson said. “This is going to take some explaining. You’re in a lab, or, more precisely, your brain—your mind—is in a lab. You see, Mrs. Wall, the physical you died about a month ago, but we have been able to preserve the mental you.”

“What—what are you talking about?” the voice asked.

Dr. Siemens walked in front of the tank, his back straight and his chest out, very proud of himself. “We—Dr. Wilson and I, Dr. Siemens—we have preserved your brain and all of your senses. You were one hundred and two, Mrs. Wall. Your body failed, but your mind will live forever. You can hear, talk, smell—”

“Who gave you the right to do this?” Mrs. Wall’s robotic voice rose in volume a tad, but nonetheless, remained flat and unemotional.

“Why, you did, Mrs. Wall,” Dr. Wilson explained. “You did that when you donated your body to medical science.”

“This is not what I had in mind,” Mrs. Wall said. It was clear from the volume of her voice that she was trying to shout, but shouting for her was impossible, at least temporarily.

“But,” Dr. Siemens said. “What is the problem? We can let you experience your favorite food, your favorite smell, we can even let you experience sex?”

“Sex?”

“Yes,” Dr. Siemens said. “Frank. Would you please give Mrs. Wall a short sexual experience?”

“Delighted to.” Dr. Wilson tapped a few keys, leaned back and smiled. “Well?”

“Go ahead. Ask it.”

Why did your parents have an offspring?

She didn’t expect this kind of question. Loved One must have scanned the contents of the book on genetics and found it wanting.

“I supposed it was because they loved each other,” she mumbled, shifting positions to get comfortable again.

Love is important in cloning?

“What? No, it’s not necessary at all when it’s done in a lab. Only for sexual reproduction.”

And that is how most humanoid species reproduce?

“Yes, yes it is.”

Did you love Jakob?

“The Sector Guard can offer you adventure.”

She smirked. “Not interested.”

“Travel.”

“I can travel as much as I wish to.”

He dragged in a deep breath. “You will have the opportunity to help folk in dire situations and under incredible stresses. Guardsmen need a counsellor more than anyone can know. We face death, violence, the most heinous situations as well as the burden of arriving too late.”

She leaned back and put her arms on the chair, her party gown flowing around her in soft gold folds that matched her eyes. “You have caught my interest. Go on. What can I do for the Guard?”

“Well, let me state first that I am a Contract specialist. Every legal precedent in the Alliance and Nyal space is within my mind and I can create an airtight agreement that even light cannot escape from.”

Sekhara tilted her head at the Wyoran with the hypnotic voice. “I see. Now, why me and not one of the plethora of other telepaths out there? And, do you really intend to legally trap me?”

“You have an ability to make contact with anyone based on their cranial scans, at immeasurable distances.” His blue eyes seemed to grow larger and she could feel the push of his talent against her.

She quirked her lips, “That is classified information.”

“And as a member of the Sector Guard, you will be in a position to use your talents to the fullest extent, every day. They need you. We need you.” His tone rang with determination and sincerity.

“What about our personal interaction? Even Altius and Effin have told me that there is an expectation of bonding between partners. Physical bonding. Where do we stand on that?” She put an expectant look on her face and waited.

Contract swallowed and looked sheepish. “It would be nice to have a Wyoran woman with me and I promise to be a sensitive and careful lover and to do my best as a partner. I will back you up when needed and stand aside when you don’t.”

“That seems awfully passive for a man with your reputation, Contract. Criton Ethyn was quite the ladies’ man around the hub before he left for his new career in the stars. I have heard tales of debauchery, bondage and any number of group activities of a sexual nature. It is amazing how a man can change when he realizes his choices of life partner are limited.”

His mouth opened and closed, the cords of his neck flexed as he struggled to breathe. “How do you know all that?”

She quirked her lips. “Effin Nywyn, husband of Relay, is the cousin of Altius, our host, tonight, who is the brother of my employer, Sahvahn Nywyn. They did the research long before they let you find me tonight.”

The door to the study flew open and a creature bounded in, wriggling with delight as it sat next to Sekhara’s chair.

“Hello, Maxi. How are you today?”

Criton was looking at the beast warily. “You have a nylander?”

“Ledara gave me one of the kits when Maxi was born. Six months later and she is ready to leave her mother. Is there room on your shuttle for her?” Sekhara reached out and stroked the snow-white fur on her new pet. The mental link between them snapped into being and strengthened as the Wyoran let her mind touch the beast’s. A centre of calm rippled into her from Maxi.

“Room on my shuttle? You agree?”

“Let’s return to the party and have a nice time. You can meet me at my office tomorrow and we will discuss the finer points of the contract.”

He cautioned her. “You will have to apply to let the nylander leave Wyora.”

She grinned as she stood and walked to the door with Maxi at her side. “I already have.”