“Is something wrong with your tongue?” The Commander hissed. “You seem to be stuttering, and sweating, quite a bit. Perhaps you knew what she was and you helped her to escape?”
“No!” Daggs almost jumped out his seat. “No, sir.” He corrected.
“Well, we will know soon enough.” The Commander sighed heavily again and turned to the door. He motioned to the black uniformed soldier who had been standing in silent attention against the wall. The soldier sprang to life, saluted the Commander and opened the door.
“I do hope, for your sake, that you have been completely honest with me, as you have already stated that you do know the punishment for lying to a Commander of the Xen’dari Empire.”
As the dark haired, black-eyed female Trexen Observer walked into the room, Daggs knew he was a dead man.
9 Plans
Orynn awoke to the quiet beeping of the timed alarm she had set the previous night. She had always considered herself a light sleeper and it had never taken much to bring her out of the dreamless silence that enveloped her mind while her body recovered. When it was time to sleep, her brain shut off like a switch. When she opened her eyes again, it would be time to get up. The time in between was always a black void of emptiness for her. She often wondered what dreams were like.
To make up for the lack of dreams, she consoled her subconscious imagination by day-dreaming and reflecting on memories. The first memory to greet her that morning was the vision of Ethan’s blue eyes looking at her the night before. It had been a welcome conversation, despite how exhausted she had been. She felt as if she had started to repair the rift she had caused between them, even if he was still unreadable. She hoped to continue that same progress with him today.
Stretching and moving herself over to the com panel, she shut off the alarm. Leaning on the cold metal wall, her body dreaded the return to the gravity of the outside world. Eyeing the time display on the panel, she let out of a soft sigh and faced the inevitable. The node on her neck resonated as her mind told it to adjust its settings. With a few clicks on the panel, the gravity in her room increased gradually back to one hundred percent and the oxygen ratio returned to normal.
Her muscles strained and fought against the return. The node on her neck sent small impulses to the stimulators connected throughout her body and her muscles began to relax. Breathing was always the most difficult part of the readjustment. Her lungs were larger and her ribcage was thinner than other races. The gravity pushed against her chest and caused her to take short shallow inhales through her mouth. Slowly, the stimulators compensated and she was able to breathe through her nose again.
After five long minutes of adjusting, her feet were flat against the floor, she could stand up straight and her lungs were breathing steadily. Walking to the bathroom connected to her room, she regretted that she didn’t have the forethought to leave herself time for a shower. She found a washcloth next to the sink and soaked it under the faucet. The cool water of the rag helped to open the pores on her skin and offered additional relief as her body continued to adjust. It would be another ten minutes before she would be able to breathe without pain, a half hour before she would be able to run normally and at least an hour before the ache in the base of her spine stopped throbbing.
Drawing the mess of her white hair away from her face, she walked back to her room and retrieved her hair clip from the small padded compartment sewn into the inside seam of her duffle bag. The hair clip was made from the pearlescent shell of the crustaceans common to Corwint. It was a cherished memento from someone long ago, and keeping it near to her mind served as a constant reminder of how things can go terribly wrong when you forsake the rules of being Vesparian.
Pulling her hair away from her face, she slid the clip into place and quickly changed back into the same pants she had worn yesterday. Trading yesterday’s blue undershirt for a light grey one, she slid her mesh white long sleeved shirt on over it. It took her a moment to locate her sandals, which she had neglected to secure into her bag before changing the gravity settings last night. She found one on top of the unused bed and the other near the door. Placing them on her feet, she opened the door of her room and stepped out into the hallway.
When her body connected with his as she stepped into the corridor, Ethan felt the same jolt of electrical energy that he had fought futilely against last night. The arousal that had started as a frustrating annoyance had shifted into a lingering pain before he had been forced to give into its need. The thought of that act, which had been a first for him, caused him to quickly step back from her and flatten himself against the wall. Pulling away from her body so suddenly caused her to stumble towards to the opposite wall face first with a surprised gasp.
Still disoriented, Orynn’s eyes saw the wall coming fast toward her, and she brought her hands up defensively. When the smack of cold metal didn’t come, her tense body slowly relaxed. It was then that she felt the strong hands gently gripping her shoulders. From those fingertips, she felt a strange and alluring static pulse. When she opened herself up to it, she found the unique aura of Ethan behind her.
Realizing what she was doing, she closed the connection immediately and slid out of his grasp. “My apologies. My motor functions are still adjusting after the low gravity session.”
Despite her attempt to disengage unnoticed, he had felt the momentary connection she had initialized between them. Well, that answers that question. “I would imagine it takes time to adjust.”
“Yes, it does.” She wasn’t sure if she should look at him or continue investigating the wall in front of her.
He stood silently for a moment, watching her. She appeared to be embarrassed and uncertain of how to proceed. It was becoming more clear to him that, despite her outward guise of control and confidence, she had trouble dealing with honest social interactions. “Do you require assistance walking to the conference room?”
“I...” She was tempted to say yes, but the thought of touching him again frightened her. She wasn’t sure she would be able to control the empathic will of her subconscious that desperately wanted to make the connection with him and explore his system. The laxing control over that part of her mind was starting to cause her a great deal of concern, for both the mission and those involved.
“Thank you for your offer, but I am able.”
He remained unmoving in the corridor as she slowly increased the distance between them. She was still struggling, he could tell, but she was being adamant about being independent of accepting his assistance. The smiles she had shown him last night where no longer present. Instead, she was shrinking away from him. A sickening thought crossed his mind as she disappeared around a bend in the corridor.
What if she knew?
He tensed as his mind raced to review the past few minutes of interaction with her. Had he given off some sort of vibe that her empathic abilities could pick up on? Had the split second of connection between them been enough to betray what he had done? It had been an intense moment of both pleasurable satisfaction and shameful disgust, and he knew he still carried some of that guilt with him this morning. His shoulders slumped and his feet refused to move another step.
What am I going to do now?
A hard slap on his back brought him out of his thoughts. Brom and Tara had appeared behind him, and now Brom was pushing him forward jokingly. “Yo, Ethan, you plan on blocking the hallway all day?”
Ethan swallowed the lump in his throat and forced his legs to start walking towards the conference room. “I was waiting for you. I would hate to see you be the last one in and end up on filter duty.”
“Nah, Tara won that privilege last night.” Brom chuckled and Tara shot him a sideways glare. “Besides, we all know Hank is always the last one to roll out of bed and into the corridor. It’s his hair, I think. Takes him longer to do something with than mine.”
Tara dropped the glare and laughed as Brom slid a hand across his bald scalp. When Tara’s laughter ended, they heard another fe
male voice laughing lightly. Ethan knew immediately who it belonged to. If it hadn’t been for Brom’s bulky figure blocking the corridor, he may have made a run for it. The glare returned to Tara’s eyes as they walked into the conference room to find Hank and Orynn sitting rather close to each other and laughing between soft conversation.
Hank looked up at the trio as they headed for their seats. “Well, it’s about time. I was beginning to wonder if Orynn and I were going to have to plan this whole mission ourselves.”
“Hey, blame the blue door stop for us being last.” Brom sat down heavily and the chair squeaked in protest. Tara let the glare dissipate and sat down next to Brom.
Ethan chose the seat at the opposite end of the table away from Orynn. “I was deep in thought, something I am sure you are unable to relate with. You could have gone around.”
“With my figure?” Brom stuck out his chiseled chest and pumped up his arms. He may have been over forty years of age, but as an Orellian, he was in the prime of his life. “I’d rather be late than try and squeeze all this awesome past you.”
“Besides,” Tara tried to keep the edge out of her voice. “we figured you’d be the last one here like usual, Hank.”
Hank gestured toward Orynn. “I was going to show Orynn the way to the conference room, but when I passed by on the way to her quarters, I saw that she was already here. Alone. The guest on our crew and she beat all of us.”
“I did not stop for breakfast though.” Orynn wasn’t comfortable with the sudden spotlight on her promptness. “I only awakened fifteen minutes ago.”
“Fifteen minutes ago?” Tara questioned in disbelief. It had taken her an hour to finally force herself from the warmth of her bed after the stresses of the previous day. “Yeah, we kind of skipped breakfast too.”
“Oh, I see.” Orynn was left unsure how to respond.
As if on cue, Brom’s stomach rumbled and filled the sudden silence in the room. “Sorry.”
Hank smirked and shook his head. “We’ll have plenty of time to eat on our way to Tir.”
“Tir?” Orynn couldn’t hide the look of surprise from her face. Tir was a planet she was quite familiar with. It wasn’t a place outsiders typically visited.
“Yes.” Hank nodded. “Ethan, can you cover the details of our assigned mission?”
Ethan picked up a datapad from the table and pretended to review a document on it. He didn't need to review the mission details from the tablet. Everything was stored in his head, but it gave him a good enough reason not to make eye contact with Orynn.
“Central has received word of a new plague spreading among several of the outlying colonies in the Ventaris system. Central was able to obtain a sample of the plague in the hopes of creating a vaccine. The plague, however, has turned out to be a genetically engineered strain that is proving resistant to conventional methods of treatment. Central believes that the Xen’dari have created it as a weapon and they are testing it on these small colonies for its effectiveness. So far, it has killed over a hundred colonists and the agent who smuggled the sample to Central.”
Tara frowned. Using that kind of weapon was low, even for Xen’dari. “Xen’dari are pricks, but do you really think they’d risk a plague?”
“It would not be the first time the Xen’dari Empire has attempted to use a biological weapon such as this.” Orynn’s expression darkened as the group turned to her. “Sixty-three years ago, they let a genetically altered version of the Gothrin Pox loose on a Hedarion settlement. Central was able to quickly contain it and formulate a treatment, but not before it killed four thousand and thirteen. Most of them were children. The virus then mutated and backfired on the Xen’dari. It took them sixteen years and cost the Xen’dari homeworld close to two million lives before they vanquished it.”
Tara leaned in. “You’re seriously saying that the Red Plague on Xen’dari was caused by their own government?”
“Yes.” Orynn’s voice had gone quiet. Her eyes were looking straight ahead at the group, but it was obvious she wasn’t seeing them. Their vacant expression reflected the horrors she was reliving from her memory. The air hung heavily around the table and Orynn’s sadness was palpable. “I had hoped that the Xen’dari had learned their lesson, but such a hope was obviously foolish. Their desire for designing genetically manipulated weapons knows no boundaries.”
Tara’s chest grew tight as Orynn’s emotion hit her. She suddenly felt so childish. This was no flirtatious girl sitting next to Hank. Orynn was older than all of them put together and had seen more in her time than Tara could begin to imagine. As Orynn continued looking ahead, lost in her memories, Tara had the sudden urge to reach out and squeeze her hand.
Orynn felt a wave of concern hit her from Tara. She blinked the memories away and looked around at all their faces. She had lost control again. It was becoming more difficult, and that was leading to dangerous slips. “Forgive me. My empathy can sometimes have a mind of its own. I did not mean to impose.”
Hank placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “It’s alright. I think we can all agree to the serious threat that this new Xen’dari weapon poses and how important it is that we find a cure.”
“Which is why we are going to Tir.” Ethan had watched the emotional exchange in silence. While he had not felt the empathic wave that had affected the others, the haunted look in Orynn’s eyes had been enough. “The Tir are information traders. We’re going to be trading our cargo of medical supplies with them in the hopes it will give us some leads about where the Xen’dari are developing the plague. We need to get the original formula in order to develop a vaccine.”
“Medical supplies?” Orynn moved her gaze over to Ethan. “Have you dealt with the Tir before?”
Ethan didn’t return her gaze. “Though we have met with several off world, this will be our first trip to their homeworld.”
“With medical supplies.” Orynn repeated flatly. She didn’t like how Ethan was avoiding eye contact.
“The Director told us to use medical supplies, yes.” Hank wasn’t sure where this conversation was about to lead.
“Ah, I understand now.” A small smile graced Orynn’s face. “Jehdra gave you medical supplies because she knew I would be on board.”
Brom scratched his chin. “I don’t follow. What’s the medical supplies in our cargo hold got to do with you?”
“Jehdra knew I would be able to use them in order to get us what we actually need to be granted a meeting with the Tir.” Orynn leaned forward and directed her question at Ethan, forcing him to finally look up at her. “Ethan, how large is the Zera’s cargo hold?”
Ethan reluctantly met her eyes, but he didn’t see anything in them except her focus on the mission. “Twenty by thirty-four by forty. Why?”
“Should be ample space then.” She turned to Hank with her eyes full of purpose. “We will need to take a detour to Chronos, followed by Gokem, and we will need to construct four holding pens in the cargo bay.”
Hank leaned back with an intake of breath. His original mission plan was becoming more complex than he had thought. “Chronos and Gokem? And holding pens for what, exactly?”
“Limiks. Eight of them.” Orynn replied. “As well as two bolts of valissian silk, white and purple if we can locate it, four crates of smoked drakka and five containers of Kilarian ale.”
“Limiks?” Brom almost laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. He wasn’t sure how she planned to turn fifty crates of medical supplies into eight limiks and all that other stuff, but if she could, he didn’t like the idea of them being in their cargo hold. “You want to put eight limiks into the cargo hold? What do we need eight of those stinking stupid beasts for?”
“To trade for information.” Orynn surmised the Zera crew wasn’t used to taking on live cargo. “The Tir are a nomadic people, both off and on world. Some members of the family tribes travel to other systems and trade for their people’s needs. While trading items to survive, they have become adept at trading informatio
n. They are also a prideful people who are fiercely independent. The Tir have no trouble obtaining all that they need, including medical supplies. If we show up with medical supplies, they will see it as an offering of charity and take offense.”
Tara wondered how she knew so much about the Tir. The Tir had always lived on the outskirts of society, keeping their ears and eyes open but not their personal lives. She had dealt with them a few times at trade ports where they would discuss tidbits of information and rumors over drinks, but nothing beyond that. “But limiks are going to get us the intel we need from them?”
“In a way.” Orynn could understand why this may be confusing. Judging by their record, the current crew of the Zera was far more used to hunting down the information they needed using less than covert methods. The idea of bringing limiks on board their ship to trade must have seemed quite odd. “The limiks are to get our foot in the door and pay respects to an old acquaintance of mine on Tir. The silks are for his tribe’s women, the meat for his tribe’s men and the ale is to get him into a sharing mood.”
“You have a connection on Tir?” Hank was starting to see that the Director had more than one reason for assigning Orynn to their crew.
“In a manner of speaking.” Orynn decided to leave it at that for now. It would be easier to explain once they arrived at Tir. “Captain, I know this may seem a strange thing, but I know this will be the best way to get the information that we require to complete our mission.”
Hank took in a deep breath. There would be a great deal riding on the suggestions of someone he just met yesterday. The Director was counting on them to get this intel and so were the people of Ventaris. He looked to Ethan to see what he thought of the plan, but the Mecha’s gaze was unreadable and locked on the wall behind Orynn’s head. “Well, it’s worth a shot. Brom, I’ll need you and Tara to work on getting the pens set up in the cargo bay. It will take us eighteen hours max to get to Chronos space. Will that be enough time?”
Ghost in the Machine (Corwint Central Agent Files) Page 9
