Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  She did her best to glare at him in annoyance, though she was fairly certain her eyes were telling a different story. She was absolutely certain her pulse was, but didn’t think he could see it.

  “Uh-huh. Hold out your left wrist.” He complied, and her thumb hovered above his pulse point to deactivate the prisoner code holo encircling it. “That how they say ‘hello’ on Seneca?”

  “Nope.”

  She failed to fully stifle the chuckle which bubbled forth as she glanced up at him with a quick roll of her eyes. Then she produced a dark gray cap out of her pack and thrust it toward him. “Put this on. Shouldn’t matter, but just in case.”

  He accepted it without question. “It almost matches yours.”

  “What can I say, fashion isn’t my specialty.” She wore a burgundy cap over unbound hair, the better to mask facial features in a stray cam capture. She also wore a black dress overcoat, because it was even colder here than it had been in San Francisco and here she was going to wear a damn coat.

  He didn’t have a coat of course. He still wore the same clothes, the only clothes, he had worn for as long as she had known him. At least his shirt had long sleeves.

  He slipped the cap on over his once again wild shock of curls. “What’s the plan?”

  “We walk out. Come on, let’s go.”

  “We simply walk out.”

  “Yup.”

  He exhaled and smiled gamely. “Okay.”

  It pleased her more than it should to see he trusted her and didn’t argue. She reached into her pack again and removed a small rectangular object. She handed it to him. “Stunner. Just in case. Now let’s go.”

  He nodded and followed her out the door and down the hallway. Her voice was low, almost under her breath. “All the surveillance monitors are on a loop for the next hour. I fed in the previous hour’s data, and they think they’re recording new images. There won’t be a record of me arriving or us leaving.”

  “You hacked Strategic Command military security.” It came out not so much a question as a statement of incredulity.

  She shrugged as they took a hallway to the right. “I did.”

  “Seriously.”

  “Yes.” She groaned in feigned annoyance. “I do have a little inside information on the subject. And it still wasn’t exactly easy, if it matters. Did you expect me to show up with a commando squad and blood from the guards decorating my face?”

  “I…I honestly had no idea how you might accomplish it—only that you would.” He reached over and squeezed her hand, sending an ardent flutter up her spine. “What happens when they find me absent?”

  “You were released from custody at 0100 on the authority of Staff Commander Willoughby. Until someone shows up to interrogate you—tomorrow at the earliest, maybe never—the people who care won’t even know you’re gone.”

  “Nice. And this Willoughby character?”

  “He’s a complete asshole. Don’t worry about—” He pressed her into the wall, into the shadows, and placed a finger to her lips. Jesus he smelled nice. How could he possibly smell so nice after not having showered for almost two days? She was having some small difficulty breathing and it wasn’t because he was pressed against her too tightly. His eyes flickered in a way which suggested he was enjoying the whisper of her breath along his finger, though she couldn’t be sure.

  Three seconds later a guard strode down the crossway. He counted down with his fingers; when the last one dropped they stepped out and hurried across.

  It was the last hallway. She touched the already-hacked exit panel to open the door and they were quickly on the lift to the parking level.

  He rolled his shoulders and sucked in a deep breath of the chill night air. “So…what’s the plan? I realize I keep asking. I’m afraid I’m kind of used to being the one in charge of these sorts of capers.”

  The lift settled to the floor and they headed for her skycar. “We’re going to run by my loft. I need to pick up a few things I wasn’t able to bring with me earlier, and we’ve got a few hours. I want to leave during morning shift at the spaceport. I’m familiar with everyone on it and they won’t ask any questions. We can figure out where to go once we’re off-planet.”

  An odd expression came across his face as he climbed into the passenger seat. She glanced over curiously. “What?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I thought you might put me on a transport and wave goodbye. Which would be totally understandable and I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

  He had tasted like cinnamon. Again, how was that even possible? “Look, I’m not saying I won’t put you on a transport on some independent world and wave goodbye, but I’ll make sure you get out of Alliance space safely. It’s the least I can do after I got you arrested and imprisoned and everything.”

  “Thank you.” He sounded, well, genuinely thankful. They lifted off, and she was arcing southward when he pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan.

  “Something wrong?”

  “New messages pouring in. Apparently the Alliance blew up all our surveillance satellites, and now everyone is running in circles flailing their arms about wailing in despair. Also, so far no word on the aliens from the team they sent to Metis.”

  “At least there hasn’t been any sign of an attack yet.”

  “Actually, the fact there hasn’t been an attack worries me. It means there were probably a hell of a lot more ships still to come through that portal.”

  Her eyes cut over to him. “Well, fuck.”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed at his jaw. “So what did the Board say?”

  “They said they will ‘monitor the situation.’” Her mouth worked in agitation; she didn’t even bother to hide it.

  “And?”

  “And nothing. They acknowledged the potential threat but said it was too tenuous to act on for the time being.” Her hand slammed on the dash in a burst of frustration. “Idiot mental degenerates. They sit in their soundproof rooms and issue tone-deaf edicts and call themselves controlling the world, and one day they ask you to die for them, and then they keep right on doing what they were doing….”

  Her gaze rose to the translucent roof. The moon was enormous tonight, a luminous white glow drowning out the stars. “I just wanted to be left alone to live my life. I don’t need this shit.”

  In her peripheral vision she saw him smile softly. “We don’t get to choose what happens to us—but we always get to choose how we react to it.”

  Also honey. The lingering memory of sugar on the tongue. Damn. “You can stop being insightful anytime you like, you know.”

  “What, did I surprise you?”

  “You’re always surprising me.”

  A soft breath fell from his lips. She tried to get a look at him out of the corner of her eye. He appeared…speechless. Huh.

  The seconds ticked by as they flew in silence above the Strait toward downtown. Distracted by competing thoughts, it took her a moment to notice he was regarding her rather sharply. “Yes?”

  “What else did the Board say?”

  She frowned and looked away. “They said…. Fine. They said the aliens would go through Senecan space first, and the distraction would help the war effort.”

  “And you weren’t going to tell me?”

  “Why tell you? There’s nothing you can do about it, and it’s not as though they can helpfully point the aliens in Seneca’s direction or anything. It’s impotent political blustering.”

  “I get you have no particular love for my home or its citizens, but surely you don’t want them to be wiped out.”

  “Of course I don’t—that’s not why I—dammit, Caleb.” She blew out a sigh through gritted teeth. “So I’m ashamed of those who call themselves my leaders. As if I was proud of them before. I thought…I thought I knew the darkness which could reside in people, I truly did, but I had no idea they had the capacity to be so appallingly ruthless.”

  “Many people are. Especially those in power, and especially those in power in th
e military. I can’t say I’m surprised.” He paused. “Then again, I may be a bit jaded.”

  She arched an eyebrow as she descended toward her building. “Speaking of…Richard knew who you were because your file was leaked to him. Directly.”

  “What file?”

  “Your Senecan Intelligence Division file.”

  “To an Alliance Naval Intelligence agent? Impossible.”

  “I’d agree with you, except for the fact it’s precisely what happened. Sorry, but it seems you’ve got a leak or a plant or some such. Who knew you were coming here?”

  “Only Volosk. He classified this little ‘op’ Level V when he approved it, which means no one knew.”

  “Is it possible he’s dirty?”

  He laughed. It was the first time she’d heard his laugh in several days; she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. “Michael Volosk makes your friend Richard look like a flamboyant renegade. No chance.”

  She circled to the back side of her building and cruised into the parking level a third of the way up. “Well, nothing we can do to solve the mystery for the moment. Let’s get upstairs, and you can take a shower.”

  He followed her to the lift. “Do I need one?”

  Not in the slightest. “You were in military confinement for almost two days, what do you think?”

  He leaned back against the lift wall. “It’s not like I engaged in any strenuous activity, or any activity at all in fact. It was all terribly dull.”

  When they reached her door she gestured him in ahead of her. “In all seriousness, you can take a shower if you want, it’s upstairs to the left. I’m going to—”

  “Alex, these are amazing. Did you take them?” He was standing in the middle of the living area, attention not on the view out the windows but on the wall of spacescapes.

  She simply nodded.

  His expression was unreadable as he glanced briefly at her before returning to the visuals. “They’re…really something. You have quite a gift.”

  “I…thank you.” She wrenched her gaze away from watching him and went into the kitchen, dropping her cap and jacket on the dining table. “The laundry port is upstairs, too. If you toss your clothes in it, they’ll be ready by the time we need to leave. There should be something in the back of the closet you can throw on.”

  “Ex-boyfriend’s?”

  She looked up at him in amusement. “Yes.”

  His response was a full-throated laugh as he headed up the stairs.

  Once he had disappeared, she prepped a brief message to Richard.

  Sorry.

  He came here at my request, and I couldn’t leave him to rot in confinement. I wouldn’t be worthy to be your goddaughter if I did.

  Okay, that was a cheap attempt at winning your sympathy. I doubt it worked, you’re too smart for it. Though you do have a soft underbelly so maybe it at least tweaked your heartstrings a little.

  He’s not a threat to us. You have to trust me on this. And as much as it pains me to say it, the true threat isn’t the Senecan Federation either. This war is a lie. I know you haven’t the power to end it, but I beg you to do everything you can to expose it for what it is.

  We need everyone working together to face what IS the true threat: the aliens on the threshold. PLEASE. You know I don’t give a shit unless something is real. This is as real as it gets.

  I’ll be in touch when I can.

  —Alex

  She marked it for time delay and set it to deliver the next afternoon, long after she’d be off-planet and likely after he found himself one prisoner short.

  57 Earth

  Seattle

  Alex glanced up as he came down the stairs, returned her focus to the aural hovering above the counter—then looked up again.

  It was odd for a minute, seeing him in Malcolm’s clothes. He had a leaner frame, so they hung a bit loosely on him. She had the totally irrational thought that was the way they were supposed to fit.

  He caught her gaze and shrugged, gesturing to the drawstring linen pants and lightweight unbuttoned shirt. “This was all I could find.”

  “I never said they would be ‘fit for the office’ clothes.” She didn’t comment on the fact the shirt did button. One, she was quite certain he knew and simply delighted in torturing her; two, she found she preferred being tortured by…she blinked. “Get down here and I’ll run through what I’ve got so far. You can let me know if you think we need anything else. As fugitives from the law and all.”

  He came over to the bar and rested his forearms on it. “Again, thank you. I never intended to turn you into a fugitive.”

  “Again, not your fault. And it’ll be fine. Probably.”

  “Still, thank you.” His hand reached halfway across the bar, then stopped. It reminded her of the night before they discovered the alien army. Then, she had been glad he hesitated. Now she longed for him to cross the remaining space.

  “I forgive you. Now about the supplies.”

  They spent the next several minutes reviewing their requirements and the supply list she had compiled. He leaned on the long side of the bar near the end, her on the short edge near the dinner table; her aural floated in the air between them. It was comfortable and easy and close, and she was using ninety percent of her energy on not being distracted by his clean, soapy scent, by the loose curls of damp hair falling across his forehead, by the way his voice seemed so much huskier and more lilting than normal. It sounded almost musical.

  He never should have kissed her, dammit. And now she was royally fucked. Except, not actually…. Well.

  Luckily ten percent managed to be enough to get through the list. It mostly consisted of food and new spare parts anyway, seeing as she’d used her previous spare parts repairing her ship after he blew a hole in it and all.

  She killed the aural and straightened up. “Okay, I believe we’ve covered everything. Sorry I didn’t have a chance to get you any clothes. I imagine you’re sick to death of your one outfit by now. But you can take those, and whatever else is up there.”

  His head tilted. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “We’ll stop on the way for the extra food, and we should be able to pick up the spare parts at the spaceport.” She started walking around the bar, and him, toward the small room tucked under the stairwell. “I’m going to hit the storage and grab some—”

  “Alex.” Her name on his voice washed over her, sending shivers to dance on her skin. He had turned, followed her path with his body.

  His hand rested on her upper arm. Gently. A request.

  The surroundings faded to a blur while she, him and the space they inhabited zoomed into hyper-focus, as in a shallow depth-of-field image. And in a blink the last remaining speck of her resistance, tiny though it had been, dissipated away to nothingness.

  In one fluid motion she pivoted, closed the distance between them and brought her hand up to wind in his hair. It was even softer than it looked.

  For one infinite second his eyes met hers. They were open and honest and smoldering with barely restrained desire and so very, very blue. His fingertips slid across her shoulder and up the curve of her neck until his knuckles brushed along her cheek.

  “Damn you.”

  His brow furrowed into an endearingly straight line. “For?”

  “Everything. Kiss me before I lose my mind—”

  —his mouth was on hers—or hers was on his—and it felt as if a dam broke within her, and perhaps within him as well. His lips stole the breath from her lungs; she gasped in his breath to replace it. The hand which had grasped her arm what now seemed hours ago was entwined in her hair, then running over her shoulder, then delicately caressing her jaw.

  Her hand that wasn’t fisted violently in his hair slinked inside the borrowed shirt. As her fingertips brushed across his ribs he trembled beneath her touch. When he nipped her lower lip in pleasure she grinned and continued on, tickling his skin on the way to the small of his back.

  Then
everything was tongues and teeth and stolen breaths and arms pulling bodies closer. Her head spun madly from the overload of sheer physical sensation. His skin was a wonder beneath her palm, but she couldn’t focus on it for the spectacular feel of his lips on hers, the taste of his tongue—

  He still tasted like cinnamon and honey, even after the shower. Delicious.

  —his hand at her waist tugged the shirt from her pants and immediately dipped beneath it and ran up her spine. She responded by crushing her mouth into his, as though brute force might bring him closer.

  Eventually he pulled away a fraction to suck in air and shifted her so her back was to the bar. His body pinned her against it, again with greater strength than she would have imagined. And dear god but it wasn’t enough. Her hand slid down to his ass and gripped him tighter against her; his hardness pressed into her, just left of where she urgently wanted it to be.

  He moaned into her mouth, a deep, rough tremor of carnal need.

  She tore her lips from his and across his jaw to his ear. “Upstairs….” It was little more than a breath.

  In an instant he had pulled her from the bar, dropped both hands to her hips and hoisted her up into his arms.

  “Your wish is my very enthusiastic command.” His voice sounded deeper and rougher yet somehow even more musical but definitely not nearly so controlled now.

  She gasped in delight and wound her legs around his waist with a slightly wild laugh. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he began not-so-carefully carrying her toward the staircase. She occupied herself with his earlobe, his neck, his exquisitely defined jaw, whatever she could reach.

  He maneuvered the first few stairs like they were second nature—surprisingly, seeing as he’d traversed them all of twice and her hair spilled over his face—but she must have distracted him too much, because at the midway landing he slammed her against the wall and his mouth against hers. One leg slid to the floor; he maintained a solid grip on the other.

  It was her turn to moan as he crashed into her. God he wasn’t wearing any underwear…he would be washing them, of course. Freed of needing to hang on to him, she shoved the shirt off his shoulders. Her voice escaped into free air as his lips trailed down her neck to the hollow of her throat. “This isn’t upstairs….”