Science Fiction {soft}

“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."

Reader knew Von was beside him. He opened his eyes and smiled at him. "It was good."

"You ate it all, I see."

"Yeah. Told you I was hungry. Did you finally get someone to play poker with you?"

"Nope."

"Poor baby."

He laughed. "I'm even desperate enough to play with you."

"Wow that is bad."

Von picked up the tray.

"Tell me about this poker playing. It intrigues me."

"What do you want to know?"

"Where did you learn to play poker like that?"

Von looked over at him. He looked better tonight, still bruised and battered, but the pain had eased in his eyes.

"The first time I played poker, I played for the lives of myself and five other men."

Reader moved up a bit on his pillow, looked at him. "How did that happen?"

"I was a young soldier then. We were fighting an army from the Eastern Block. We were outnumbered and they surrounded us, took us hostage. They put us in this cage that was right beside this room where they were playing cards. I'd never played poker in my life, but stuck in that cage, waiting to die, with two of the others badly injured, I concentrated on that poker game. Three days later when I heard the order given to take us out and shoot us, I challenged the leader to a game of poker."

Reader shook his head. "What were the stakes?"

"Our lives. If I beat him, he was to let us go. And if I lost, he could go ahead."

"And he went for it?"

"I learned one thing about that man watching him play, he was gambler. And I knew he'd accept my challenge. I remember he asked me if I'd played poker before and I told him I hadn't. I told him it was my first time."

"Did he believe you?"

"I don't know, but he laughed and laughed."

"And you beat him?"

"No," Von said, "I lost."

"Huh?"

"I lost," he grinned, "but it got me out of the cage. I grabbed the gun from the guard beside me when he was checking his cards, shot his guard and took him hostage until his men opened the cage and took out the rest of the men."

Reader was laughing.

"And you still kept playing poker?"

"Damn right I kept playing. After that, I practiced the game and read everything I could on it. I was so damn scared when I lost that poker game, I practically shit my pants."

Both he and Reader were laughing hysterically now.

"I said to myself, 'Von, you're never going to lose another poker game as long as you live.' And you know what? I never have."

When Cameo walked into the room, both Von and Reader were laughing like two fools. She shook her head. "There you are, Von." She picked up the tray. "Come on," she motioned to him, "out of here now and let Reader get some sleep."

"Goodnight," Von said with a smile.

"Night," Reader replied.

Cameo gave him a brief kiss. "Get some sleep," she said.

"Cameo," he said.

"What?"

"Don't."

"Don't what? What are you talking about?" She eyed him.

"If you're planning on seducing him, don't."

Cameo slammed down the tray. "I'm a grown woman now, Reader. Stop treating me like a child."

"He doesn't…see you that way."

"What do you mean?"

"Everybody is both now, Reader. We're liberated. Even you've had women."

"Friend lovers, Cameo. I've had women friends as lovers, but I've never been in love with one. You don't pick the person based on sex anymore. It's just who you love."

"Exactly. And I've decided on him."

"But he hasn't decided on you."

"Why are you fighting me on this unless…Reader!"

"Look, this isn't a competition, Cameo. I don't want to see you hurt. He's not for you."

"You know something about him. What do you know? He's had women, hasn't he?"

"Yes, and the one person he ever loved was never his lover. They didn't get the chance."

"That doesn't mean he can't fall for me."

"No, it doesn't mean that. It's just that if it happens, it might not mean the same to him. It's been a long time."

"Then he needs me."

"Maybe he needs you tonight, but, sis…it could be anyone tonight. Never mind. You're right. You're a grown woman. Do what you will, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"Stop being such a doomsayer. Go to sleep," she kissed his nose. "See you in the morning."

She took the tray back to the kitchen. Von was nowhere in sight. She walked down the hallway and she spotted him in the next bedroom, undoing his shirt.

Stellar tossed and turned in her bed, afraid to close her eyes. When she finally fell asleep, she was quickly interrupted by a familiar hologram floating above her bed. "Oh Lord, what are you doing here?"

"I'm the Christmas present dude."

"Okay first, you're not a dude, you're Lila's Mom. Second, why are you dressed like a chicken with a Santa hat on your head? Third, shouldn't you be in the kitchen cooking a chicken and not imitating one?"

"That's exactly what I said. However, this guy came to our house and said I have to go be a Christmas present chicken and I had no choice. So I put my dinner in the slow cooker, threw these feathers on over my apron and came right over."

"So, you're supposed to do, what may I ask?" Stellar asked hesitantly.

"Supposedly, I'm the guide here."

"Guiding me where?"

"To good stuff or something. From what I gathered, I'm supposed to show you what's happening right now and then you have to see someone else for the future. I don't know. It all sounds so familiar, yet so weird. I have no idea why he dragged me into this in the middle of preparing Vore's dinner. Plus Lila's father probably still hasn't taken the laundry out of the dryer, and by the time I get home, it will all be wrinkled. And I'll tell you, I'm not ironing it, he will have to put every piece in the ironing machine until they're perfect. That man--"

"Stop, I know all about the wrinkled laundry. Can we just get on with this please so I can go back to sleep. This whole thing is freaking me out here. What scares me most is you actually look pretty okay as a chicken."

"Fine, Ms. Impatient. Don't shoot the messenger here because this wasn't my idea. Remember that. I have better things to do with my time than schlep you through the universe on some intergalactic life lesson thing. By the way, do these feathers make me look fat? "

Stellar rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Now I see where Lila gets her craziness and, Ms. Chicken Lady, this century please."

"Fine, cool your hydrogen burners there, missy. We're going. Sheesh. Like I have nothing better to do--"

 "What's that?"

"What where," Lila's Mom responded.

"That there. Testy, what's he doing?"

"Just a minute I can't see over these damn feathers. Wait, he's shopping I think," she answered.

"Ask him what he's buying," Stellar said.

"No, he can't see or hear us. That's the deal remember? Don't you watch old holoflicks?"

"Oh shoot."

"What's the matter?"

"I hate blue grabnab fur. It clashes with my coloring and makes me look as pale as the moons of Sirious."

"He's just looking at it," Lila's Mom defended. "Maybe you can send some sort of psychic message or something."

"Yuk yuk yucky."

"That's the message?"

"Well you said to send a message," Stellar said.

"Yes, but be more creative. No wonder you and Lila are still single. What color do you like?"

"Pink."

"Okay, watch and learn. Pink fur, pink fur, ordering pink fur here."

"Uh huh? And that's any different than saying yuk?"

"You need to be more positive."

"I am positive. Positive that blue fur is yucky."

"This isn't going the way I planned," Lila's mom mused.

"So what's your plan? I just want to get this over with."

"You're supposed to look at some cosmic overview of your life and realize how you're not enjoying all the good things, yudda, yudda, yudda and stop acting like such a pain in the ass buzz kill and--"

"And what?"

"I don't remember any more. I'm not twenty, I forget shit."

 "But this crazy trip through the universe thing you needed to remember?"

"I'd leave now if I could, but we have one more stop."

"Then will you go back to cooking chickens instead of impersonating one please," Stellar pleaded.

"Deal."

Lila had never seen Buster in such a foul mood. She wondered what could have transpired to create this funk, but she was having a difficult time finding the courage to ask.

"I know you're wondering why I'm in such a mood. Thanks for not asking," Buster said softly.

"I'm impressed."

"With what?"

"With you. That's so evolved to notice my mood and communicate yours."

"Thanks for the compliment, I think," Buster said.

"You're welcome and, yes, it is a compliment," Lila whispered.

"I guess since I'm acting so evolved, I should tell you the rest."

"If you want to."

"I want to. This case is making me crazy. There are weird things going on like I've never seen before. I can't seem to make sense of anything. It's like floating through some crazy world where I can't speak the language."

"That's a good thing. Would you really want to understand all this insanity?"

"I'm a policeman. It's my job to understand insanity."

"Okay, let's be clear. I have no desire to be with someone who relates to the whole hot-dog-up-the-ass thing."

"Okay, okay, you're right. But I should know enough about the criminal mind to figure out what's going on here. Even if I don't understand or totally get it."

"But you do understand what's going on here. Some nuts with a vendetta are running around the galaxy shoving food up their victim's butt. Either they are pissed because they once got a bad meal, or the service sucked. Sometimes a five percent tip just isn't statement enough."

Buster laughed. "I hope murder isn't your remedy for bad service in a restaurant. Otherwise, we'll have to start ordering take out."

"Actually, it had never entered my mind, but there is a certain symmetry to the process. You have to admit, there have been times a small tip didn't fit the crime."

Buster laughed. "Maybe you're right. That waitress at The Blue Coffee shop on the moon was the rudest I've ever seen. Maybe a few hits of a Starbucks Latte Tall up her tush would send a message."

Hell of an enema, Lila thought. "But, Buster, there really is a method to this madness. The fact they were all in the restaurant business together, still haunts me. I keep thinking they didn't part as friends. Have you talked to Borgana again?"

"Yes, she was a silent partner. It was a small investment and she let her business manager handle everything. I can't help thinking there's something more here. A disgruntled customer wouldn't be enough to create such anger, this is a real vendetta. What makes people kill? Sex, love, money or relatives?"

"Relatives?"

"Sure family arguments heat up into murder all the time," Buster explained.

"Are any of the partners related?"

"Not as far as I've been able to discern. But that's a valid point. Maybe it's a family member once removed. I'll check it out."

Lila had a feeling, the one she got when she was onto something; her left boob started to tingle and itch. "My boob is tingling."

"I'm driving Lila, there's nothing I can do right now. Unless you want me to turn on autopilot and…"

Lila interrupted, "No, Buster, although hey, why not. No, my boob is tingling because I'm onto something. Whenever I have a hunch, my boob tingles and itches. And it's never wrong."

"You never told me this before."

 "I haven't had a hunch around you before."

"And your boob is always right?"

"Always, my boob is never wrong."

"Lila, do me a favor and never say that in public."

"What?"

"My boob is never wrong."

"Why not?"

"People will think you mean me." He switched on autopilot.

The tunnel was pressing on her, but she couldn't stop to enjoy the sensation of blind panic that it was engendering. Jenya sent her talent forward, inch by inch, eating away at the rock and dirt of the walls of her prison.

The prisoners who had followed her into the tunnel were now her prime concern. They trusted her to deliver them from the persecution of the Lekark regime and she was going to die trying.

Teachers, doctors, musicians--there were close to one hundred who agreed to follow her if she could bore a hole through the rock.

She inched forward and drew on her inner reserves to evaporate the rock. Jenya knew that her power was failing, but she couldn't trap them in here with her. She had to give everything she had if they were to make it out alive.

Jenya shoved herself right to the edge of the stone and blasted forward with furious intensity. She rode the adrenaline and did the same shockwave of power over and over until finally, after what felt like six hours of crawling, they struck daylight.

She fell out of the hole and tumbled to the ground. Hands grabbed her and pulled her aside. The light of day blinded her and she couldn't see who had a grip on her. If it was the polizai again, she was just going to let herself die.

A voice called to her, but it was far away. In the sun, finally free of the oppression that had almost taken her life, she looked into the daylight and let her mind relax.

A face blocked the sunlight. If she was dreaming of an escort to the afterlife, this face would not be the one she would pick. Braids banded with metal swung and clashed around his face. Silver eyes in a bronze face were the only celestial markers. The rest of him was all warrior and firmly grounded to the earth.

A light slap to her face got her to focus. "What?"

"Are you all right? Can you sit up?" The man seemed angry.

She sat up and her head spun. "I am up. But if you want me to dance, you are going to have to buy me a drink."

Jenya's eyes were shielded by the scowling wall of muscle at her side. She saw the endless dispensing of the escapees from the narrow hole in the side of the rock face. "We made it."

He looked down at her and kind warmth with a touch of pride filled his gaze. "Yes, Digger, you did."

"Can I sleep now?" She sighed. It would not be a sleep she wanted to return from. She had depleted herself entirely digging them out.

He nodded absently as someone caught his attention for the emerging folk.

She scooted so that she was leaning against the wall and relaxed. Just a little rest and it would all be over.

* * * *

The staging area was going nuts with the influx of ninety-four refugees and Vornan was trying to make sure that they all got the attention they needed.

Razer and Tech were in the process of attacking the totalitarian government that had taken over this minimally populated world, and the rebels that they were rescuing were already free.

"Razer, this is Flame. The majority of the rebels have been freed and are receiving medical attention." He waited for the double click that acknowledged and returned to attending the medical needs of those who had fallen out of the wall.

He went from cot to cot until finally a woman grabbed his arm. "How is Jenya?"

He checked the roster. There was no Jenya in the medical tent. "Who?"

"Jenya. She led us through the darkness. She made that tunnel as we went. It took so long." The woman's face was oddly clean. As what she had said sunk in, a chill ran through him. He looked around the room and noted that aside from some grass stains and dirt on hands and knees, their faces were clean.

"How long did you crawl through the tunnels?" He checked her vitals and the bandage on her wrist that seemed to be the most common injury.

"It was a dark forever, but I think it was somewhere between six and twelve hours."

"Was the tunnel already there?"

"No. I told you, Jenya made it as we went." She lay back and looked up at him with exhausted eyes, "Is she all right?"

He didn't answer, Helsin was on this assignment and he checked with the physician. "How long were they underground?"

"Based on pupil response and dehydration, two days. The investigations have shown that the tunnel is over six miles long."

Helsin may have said something else, but Flame was running.

She was slumped against the wall where he had left her, her body quiet and smudged with dirt. He had called her Digger as a joke, but as he searched her body for signs of life, he came to the conclusion he hadn't bothered to look for.

She had offered her life to free her people, and he had left her here to die.

The following morning Josh was up before daybreak. He tried not to make any noise as he left the bedroom wanting to give Callie a few more hours of rest. He made his way into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee and after drinking his fill, pulled on his old coveralls and headed out the door.

When he got in the truck, he forgot all about the cows and headed instead to the north pasture. Curiosity was eating him up alive. Ever since seeing the lights the night before, he felt the need to find out what had caused them. He doubted whether he’d discover anything in the daylight, but something was urging him on to check it out.

As he rounded the bend in the road, he could see the tops of the oil drilling rigs jutting up into the sky. A feeling of nostalgia swept through him making him think of his father and how he missed him. He was just happy he managed to spend a few weeks with him when he’d arrived home before his father died.

Driving closer to the pasture, Josh’s gaze narrowed as he studied the ground beneath the rigs. It looked as if someone had been digging holes in the field. He parked the truck and got out. By the time he made his way across the pasture, a puzzled frown settled across his features wondering what was going on.

Every hole was the same size in circumference looking as if a machine had carved out the earth. Inside the middle of the circles were little holes looking as if they reached deep into the earth surface. If he didn’t know any better, he could almost believe these circles matched the patterns a farmer had taken pictures of for a documentary. This occurred in another state some distance from Oklahoma a while back. They had called them crop circles. From listening to all the reports on the circles, it was unknown how they got there and what they meant. There were many scientists coming up with ideas, but not one of them had solved the origin of the circles.

The women were startled into laughter and a soft dialogue was begun. Alara peeked over to the men’s side of the room and jumped when she noticed the brilliant blue and gold eyes staring at her from under dark brows and deeply red skin.

While her mind shrieked at the beloved familiarity of his features, she tried to keep her face straight. His burnt colouration was a stark contrast to her shades of green and the images in her mind of exactly how extreme that comparison could be started a blush that she hid from him by turning her head.

“Why are you blushing?” One of her new companions whispered it in her ear. Well, it seemed to be a whisper, but the woman who spoke was across the table. It was her talent, speaking at a distance, a handy power that the Dalphaic government was trying to find a use for.

Alara gestured to the distance between them and quirked an eyebrow.

Chuckling, Dori came around the table and positioned herself next to Alara.

“I have seen him before. He wasn’t wearing quite so much.” Her words caused a flaring blush in Dori’s cheeks as she caught the meaning.

“Oh, I see.”

“I wish I didn’t, but I did.” Alara winked and Dori returned to her place. She didn’t really regret the knowledge, but it made for a cute quip.

A sudden whisper in her ear brought her upright in a hurry. “He’s coming this way.”

A flurry of straightening her hair brought giggles from the ladies at the table as she turned to smile with bland curiosity at the man who lived in her dreams every night.

“Are you Alara J’tak?” His voice was abrupt and not at all what she would expect from a lover. She mentally slapped herself. He didn’t know that they would be lovers.

“Yes. And you are?”

He drew himself to his full and impressive height. He was magnificent, his horns gleaming in the open panels of sunlight coming through the ceiling. “General Brodin of the Sector Guard Base Teklan. I am here to rescue you.”

Alara heard and felt the women at her table swoon, but she knew how this was supposed to end. She got to her feet and looked up at him with an expectant look. “How are you going to do that with your limbs encased in restrictors?”

He leaned down until they were almost nose-to-nose. His gaze warmed and his voice took on a distinctly sensual tone. “You’ve seen the future, you tell me.”

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?

Kalorda was the only thing that she could think of when she looked at that magnificent beast in her recordings. The fur, the fangs and the intelligence in those huge silver eyes.

If he was a shifter trapped in his feline body, it would explain the tiny electrodes that were visible on her scans. Someone had locked him into his shifted shape and sold him to a certain death on Endin.

She set her alarm and prepared her hunt garb for the morning. She also packed a med kit and as much higher-tech healing units as she could fit in it. Rations, maps and water locations are all readied and she quickly let herself sleep for a precious two hours.

She woke easily, years of training in action. She dressed, booted and geared herself up, creeping along the walls and slipping due east.

Ashlin ran through the woods and let her true nature show. Her nails lengthened to claws, her teeth sharpened, ears grew more pointed and nose grew wider to increase sensitivity. She tore at the back of her trousers to remove the basting stitch her mother put in place every time Ashlin hunted.

Her tail was long and helped her balance on the long jumps across brooks, her eyes let her see in the dark and the claws braced her on every curve. She twitched her whiskers in anticipation of the incoming male. If the beast was smart, he would follow her.

A bubbling laugh escaped from behind her teeth as she ripped through the pre-dawn forest. In a sense, the folk of Endin were soon to be hunting her.

Running full out in the dark was dangerous, but with her senses turned up to the maximum, she was miles away from the city by dawn. She paused in the reddish light to drink her fill at one of the many streams, then settled back against a rock with her senses wide. Every tiny motion in the woods would register in her ears, her whiskers catching every vibration.

Two hours later, she jolted awake. Something was approaching rapidly and it was moving at a speed far beyond that of an Endin.

Flat paws were thudding against the loam of the forest floor and she waited quietly, hiding in the shadows until the beast ran past her, stopped and returned to her.

"Well, finding a mate is a prime concern for many, but there are few females to be found." He cleared his throat. "You and your sisters are a blessing from the universe. To have twenty females of breeding age entering society at the same time is unheard of."

"Not anymore and we are not a blessing from the universe, we are a blessing from Eiwyn. Our mother sacrificed years of her life with our father in order to bring us to the worlds." She couldn't help but give credit where it was due.

"He is not happy about the loss of his wife. We are trying to keep the complete truth of his children from him, but it has not been easy." Kros's voice was next to her as she explored the huge doorway that led into the castle.

"It has not been easy on Mother either, but it will not be forever, or so she is telling us. I wish for the day that I can meet her." Opalite whistled softly, listening to the echo within the interior.

"What do you mean you haven't met her? She is your mother."

"We were cloned. She had four embryos and they somehow were split into five sisters each. The researchers don't know why we look identical, but our eyes and personalities are all completely different."

The interior of the home was cool and comfortable. Glossy marble floors butted to matte stone walls. Huge windows were open to the breezes and couches dotted the inner rooms.

"This is a lovely place. How can you live here on your own?" The vastness of the space astonished her.

"Well, I was rather hoping you would join me." He snaked his arm around her waist and she blinked up at him.

"I need to see my sisters first."

He was coming in for a kiss and she reached up and grabbed his lips. "My sisters. Now."

“I have been over all of the reports from beginning to end. I watched the battle from all angles, including the civilian ships that you refused to abandon.

You are a very brave woman, Pilot Taline.”

She blushed and she knew that her tank-pale skin was turning bright red. “I did what I had to based on the situation.”

“And refused to leave until the raiders were beaten back and retreated.”

She took a look around the silent medical bay and the lone doctor that attended her. “I have been fired.”

He looked up and laughed. “No. You have not been fired. You have been offered a commendation and a sort of a promotion.”

She made sure that she was wearing a sheet before she moved and she held it to her breasts while she tried to swing her legs over to dangle off the edge of the medical bed. “What kind of promotion?”

“There is a new position in the Alliance that is about to be offered to you. It is an offer made only to exceptional members of their races and species.

You qualify for that distinction.” He watched her carefully as she slowly started to swing her legs. “How long were you in that tank?”

“Two years. I tried to work out when I could.”

Her bare legs clearly showed the ports in her skin as did her arms, chest and her temples and the base of her skull.

She had been altered to join to a warship and now that was being taken away from her. “What kind of position would this be?”

“You would be a pilot but in a smaller ship.”

“Why?”

“Because I need a pilot and you are the best there is.”

She snorted and looked at him in shock. “I am supposed to go from being a living warship to a private driver? That is considered a promotion?”

He crossed his arms and scowled. “It isn’t a bad deal. I am considered charming in some sectors.”

“It isn’t personal, but I used to be able to tear holes in space and jump across it in an instant. This will be a step down for me.”

He nodded. “I see. What do you know about Reflex ships?”

She froze in place and then started kicking her legs again. “Tell me more.”

He leaned forward with a smile lighting the sharp curve of his lips and did just that.

Grinning, Cila walked to her quarters and noted that her bags were missing. What?

“I took your satchels to the ship and stowed them. We are ready to leave anytime.” Arkhov gestured for her to precede him.

The hooks on his inner wrists were obvious, but she ignored them and led the way back to his ship. If he wasn’t going to mention them, she wasn’t going to mention them. She had no idea of his species, but it was closely related to the Azon with something spiky thrown in.

She stopped at the exterior hatch. It wasn’t yet keyed to her bio print, so she had to wait for Ripper.

He pressed his hand to the pad, the claws on the tips of his fingers clicking lightly against the plate. “I will get you registered for entry to the ship. Just take a seat at the control panel and I will be with you as soon as I seal the hatch.”

Cila walked into the huge, open space and raised an eyebrow at the small bulkheads that delineated the areas that could hold cargo, the tiny dining area as well as wide bunks that folded up against the wall. She gave a mental snort as she took in enough living and running-around space to fill the tiny relay station. This was more space than she had ever had to herself or even to share with one person than had ever been at her disposal.

“Do you like it?”

She turned to face Arkhov and he was inches from her. Waves of heat were coming from him and she held her breath when his scent started to spike her attention. She backed up half a step and signed. Wow, lots of space.

“The Sector Guard gets to do shakedowns of quite a few new designs for spacecraft. It’s one of the perks.”

You get to fly around in untested ships?

“More or less. They are tested by our technicians and inventors and then we are given the go ahead to fly them on assignment. You will be meeting with Fixer. She and Beast have crafted this particular ship with his wingspan in mind.”

Will I meet them?

“Fixer, most certainly. She will be on the team trying to help you gain control over this mysterious talent of yours.”

She smiled, twisting her lips to one side. There is no mystery. I emanate concussive sonic force. I can do it with my body, but my voice is my most powerful outlet.

He laughed. “As are the voices of most of the women of the Sector Guard, mind you, most of them could not shatter bone with a simple whisper.”

“Hello, lady.”

Heart in her throat, Sapphire spun around at the sound of the deep voice. She couldn’t help it. She wasn’t sure if it was the poison in her system or if she was just struck dumb by the sight of the male standing before her.

He was beautiful…and large. He stood a good six and a half feet tall, his blond hair brushing his shoulders. His black vest barley covered his wide, muscular chest and did nothing to cover the light swirls of chest hair as it swirled and dipped below the wide leather belt at his waist.

Green eyes similar in color to her sister, Emerald’s, stared down at her with the most mischievous-looking twinkle she’d ever seen. Arms as big as tree limbs crossed his chest.

As he stood examining her, she couldn’t help but notice he had markings similar to hers.

“Hello,” Sapphire replied warily. “Do you know how I can contact Galen?”

The man held his hands out to his sides and grinned. “Why would you search out another male, when you have one so handy already?” He waggled his brows. “Believe me when I say I would service you in any way you need, lady.”

“I need a healer.” Her vision blurred and she felt her body give way to a bout of the cold sweats. Swiping her arm across her brow, she began to pant. Flipping her hair back over her shoulder, she raised a hand to her wound and pointed. “I’ve been shot with an arrow tipped with poison. I must see him immediately.”

“Let me help you, lady.” The suddenly serious male stepped forward and made to take her in his arms.

Sapphire stepped back with a snarl, her scowl fierce. She may be injured, but she was still well enough to fight if this male attempted to kidnap her for his own. She would be no man’s possession. Lifting her chin, she stubbornly stared him down. “I will allow only Galen to touch me.”

Smiling, the man shook his head. “I am not certain how I have garnered such trust in one I have never met, but I thank you, lady.” He bowed with a flourish. “I am Galen, at your service. Now…will you allow me to help you before you collapse, or shall I wait until you do so?”

“No one told me you were a tease.”

“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.”

Neva shooed her charges down into the emergency hatch. With a string tied to the door, she tugged it open as she lowered the hatch door and moved the rug to cover it. Peeking through the one-inch opening, she charged the strand with the brittleness of ice and jerked hard.

As it shattered, she lowered herself down into the underground tunnel and looked at the best and brightest that the Citadel had to offer. "Okay, ladies, we are going out that door and into the forest. Keep silent and calm and we will be fine."

Sterla tugged at the door and scowled. "Winder Neva, this door is sealed shut."

A cold chill ran through her, but Neva moved toward the door. Sure enough, a synthetic welding substance was trailed around the doorframe and firmly held the door in place. "Stand back. This will take some practicing."

She took a thread from the reels at her waist and tied a knot in one end. Focussing the sputtering talent that had cursed her her entire life, she started to spin the thread faster and faster, imbuing it with an acidic temperament and stepping forward. The whirling thread ate into the door, creating a hole that was large enough for them to crawl through.

She discharged the characteristics she had imbued into the thread, snapped the used area off and dropped it to the floor.

"Please come this way. I will seal the door behind us. Get to the other end of the tunnel and wait for me. I will be right behind you."

Geli looked up at her with solid black eyes. "Are you certain?"

"I am certain. I will be right there." She watched as the Citadel apprentices crawled through the hole, one by one. Her hands were busy while they escaped the noises of the Raider attack. Neva wove a web of threads rapidly, using the hooks she had had implanted in her nail beds. With the loose fabric bunched in one hand, she crawled through the hole she had made. She turned and fastened the web to the interior of the hole and charged it with an electric shock strong enough to stun any of the races who were known the frequent the Raider clans.

She walked down the tunnel and found her students waiting for her. "Thank you for following instructions. The Raider warning came out nine minutes ago. If they land and come for the weaving house, they will find the door open and no one in it. Whoever sealed the door will lead them to the trapdoor and from there, they will find that we have escaped. Now, we have to remain at liberty long enough for help to come."

Geli swallowed and her tongue flicked out rapidly. "Do you think they will come in time to keep us from being taken?"

"I have no idea, but I do know that we have to fight." She looked over her six students and smiled grimly. "Now, stand aside so I can blow the door. If they are waiting for us on the other side, this is going to hurt."

 

They stepped past several shelves and Daniel turned at the last, moving into a spacious corner. Not all of the books had titles on the spines which made Karen’s heart sink. She wondered exactly how they were supposed to know which texts they were supposed to pull or how they were going to differentiate them.

“So…” Daniel cleared his throat. “We’re looking for information about the Reilly family. This area has port journals and some ancient captain’s logs. I’m hoping that we’ll come across something from Colin Reilly, preferably something late in his career. It should have clues to what we’re interested in.”

“But how can we find anything in this?” Karen waved her hand over the books. “Do we have to check every single one?”

“No, they do try to organize them somewhat.” Daniel drew one book from the top left of the shelf. Karen presumed that it was the beginning of the section. “These are port records. You can tell because they’re made of this dark red leather and are often grouped up in threes. They spread them out because they’re easy to spot and organized by what port master was in charge at the time.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to do that by year?”

“That depends on what research you’re doing.” Daniel put the book back. “All of those books have been scanned into a computer and put in chronological order. This is more about the people who wrote in the books than what’s in them.”

“And the log books… alphabetical by author? Or ship name?”

“Good question,” Daniel replied, drawing another book out near the top. “This is the log book of Reginald Alponte of the merchant ship Sequester.” He paused a moment and chuckled. “I wonder if he meant to make that play on words.”

Karen snorted, stepping closer to the shelf and carefully drawing out a text to look at it, on the third shelf down about midway through.

“This one is Bartholomew Lamont of the HMS Dragon.” Karen slid it back carefully. “So we should be close. They really need to put letters on the shelf to give a researcher an idea of where to look.”

“I believe they change things out a little too often for that.” Daniel crouched and began to look through books in the section that Karen motioned to. “And it doesn’t take much to figure out where you’re at. Draw a couple out and you’re in the right location.”

Karen took the other side and worked toward him. “Maybe we should have hit the natural history museum first, especially if they have journals.”

“When and if we have to go there, you’ll see that they’ve got a lot of books. If we had to pour through those, we’d be there for a very long time.” Daniel hesitated a moment. “I found a book by Roberts.”

“Like… the pirate?” Karen looked over hopefully.

“No, his name was Timothy Roberts… worked on a fishing schooner.” Daniel smiled at her enthusiasm. “So you’re a pirate girl, are you?”

“Hmm? No, I… well, I’ve got a passing interest. You know, seen all the movies… read some books… watched the movies again.”

“Ah, a fan of the genre.” Daniel moved on with the books. “I believe they have a rather large section of pirate fare here. You should come back sometime and delve in.”

“I might.” Karen flushed. “It’s just… you know, a guilty pleasure.”

“I know all about them.” Daniel paused again. “Desmond Reilly… 1712. That can’t be a coincidence. I think I found the family’s section here.”

Finally, Hartwell saw a vague outline of the old galleon in the smoke and he realized that Madrigal’s ship had been carried by the waves to almost within jumping distance of the Plymouth. The rowing boat had been torn away from the side of the Plymouth by the forces of wind and water and Hartwell wasted no time in giving his final order on what had been his ship.

“Into the sea and swim,” he commanded. “Powder monkeys,” he yelled to the small used to tend and operate the cannons. “To me.” The boys, who found the captain to be an enigmatic yet fair man and who had witnessed the actions of Admiral Johnson with much indignation, scampered out from their hiding places and joined their captain.

“Grab a boy,” commanded Hartwell. His crew all grabbed at least one child each, as did Madrigal, while Hartwell took the smallest boy in one hand while holding his sister in the other. “Jump! Belay that!” The crew looked in fuzzy incomprehension as Hartwell ran to his cabin at the back of the vessel and emerged after a few moments with a bottle of absinthe. He grabbed the boy and Susanna once more as he re-joined the mutineers and shouted again, “Jump!”

They leapt out into the sea and noticed too late that the water was glowing red, a deep scarlet hue which flashed disturbingly beneath the waves. Fortunately, they all broke the surface of the water with no obvious ill effects. Apart from the strange glow, the sea was normal and the crew swam toward Madrigal’s ship.

It took a while for them to reach the vessel, hampered as they were by holding onto the frightened boys. As they reached the galleon and began climbing the ropes thrown down for them by the crew, they all felt a strange prickling sensation that seemed to envelop the entire body, inside and out. Each person, however, thought it was probably the trauma of the past few minutes and said nothing about it.

Behind them, the sounds of the two navy crews being cursed by Admiral Johnson drifted through the black smoke and white mist. Hartwell knew they only had minutes to escape. “All hands, cut and run!” he roared.

“Do it,” bellowed Madrigal at what was left of his crew. The men swung into action, bypassing the standard procedures by slicing lines to the anchor and rigging in order to expedite the escape of the galleon.

“Powder monkeys, make the cannons ready. Tench, Fitch, you’re on gunnery duty,” continued Hartwell. “Madrigal, where is your pilot?”

“Dead,” replied Madrigal, his lips thinning in fury at the betrayal and slaughter of his crew.

“I understand,” said Hartwell, quietly, “but we have no time for grief now. I need you at the wheel. You know this vessel better than us and your expertise can get us out of here.”

Madrigal nodded, seeing the truth of Hartwell’s words. Madrigal knew how low the galleon sat in the water, what her turn radius was, all the details required to pilot the ship through deep and shallow waters.

“Heading?” he asked.

“Anywhere that is not here,” replied Hartwell. “We’ll worry about a heading if we can outrun the Plymouth and the Morning Star.”

“On this vessel?” said Tench, looking around at the creaking, rotten galleon. “They’re faster, more powerful and new. We don’t stand a chance!”

Still, if they were going to rescue her, they had to find her and take her off the ship physically. She knew she could never make it to them. The trouble was that the only way they could get to her was through what was left of bay two behind what had been her storage unit. Anything else could lead to parts of the ship that were open to the still-core of the engines. That would be a fatal choice for everyone.

She could not allow that. They were trying to help her. She couldn’t let them wander into something like that while they were trying. Despite the cold, she began trying indicator lights. The lights would mark a path that they could use, just as they guided off-loading crews to the sections of the ship they were to unload.

The coldness seemed to seep through the fabric of her suit now, making every movement slow and stiff, but she pushed on. She had gone from no hope to whatever this was and decided that this was infinitely better. Whatever happened, she would know she had done all she could.