by Lea Kirk
“The request is not from your sister, although she does miss you terribly.”
Nick brushed off the dig and narrowed his gaze. “Then whose request is it?”
“The request comes from Ambassador K’nil, the Terrian and Matiran governments, and the Unified Fleet Brass.”
Say what? What the hell would the Anferthian Ambassador and the high muckity-mucks from Terr, Matir, and the Fleet want from him?
An exasperated sound rumbled in his throat and he pushed to his feet to pace the fifteen-foot room from wall to wall. “They think they can say ‘jump’ and I’ll say ‘how high’? I’m not their stooge, and I’m not going back.”
“I’m not their stooge either, yet here I am,” Graig said. “The recovery effort on Terr continues—”
“I know!” Nick clenched and unclenched his fists. “I’m doing my part to help.”
Graig quirked one ruddy eyebrow at him. “What do you hide from, Nicholaus Bock?”
He blinked. “As if you don’t know.”
“Tell me.”
What the hell? “I didn’t ask for this…this… Gift, you know that. If I choose not to use it, then no one has the right to say otherwise.”
“Do you have the right to deny those in great need who would benefit from your Gift?”
Well, shit, Graig had just played the humanity card.
“Tell me where you’d be, where all of us would be, if your sister had run away from her destiny.”
And now the guilt card. “Obviously, Alex is a much better person than I am.”
“No, she’s just not a selfish child.”
Ooh. Low blow. But what was wrong with trying to recapture normal? To be the person he’d been before his Gift had awakened in that wide field somewhere in the highest elevations of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. His work here in New L.A. had given him the autonomy he’d craved. And it was helpful, sort of.
“The request also comes from Dante,” Graig added quietly.
Nick’s breath caught in his throat. The Matiran healer was only fourteen years his senior, but had been mentor, brother, and father to him in his hour of need. Not to mention his magister in the healing arts. Without that guidance, he would have been lost, his Gift potentially out of control. Scary thought: a rogue Healer. It’d happened before. Not in his life time, but he’d read accounts of Healers who’d used their Gift to play God, deciding who lived or died based on their whim. Even worse were the ones who’d turned mercenary, hiring out their Gift to governments or other groups. A shudder ran down his spine. Matirans could control the known universe, but their social structure kept a tight rein on its people. Is that why they were calling him back now? Were they afraid he’d go rogue? Nick loosened his fists, his gaze drawn down to his hands.
“Your desertion was one hell of a blow to him, Nick.” Graig appeared perfectly relaxed, but Nick couldn’t help but flinch at the underlying steel threaded through the softly spoken words. There was no denying the truth of that statement.
Unbidden, the memory of Dante’s grim expression the day Nick had resigned his position at the New Damon Beach infirmary surfaced. But, hell, everyone in the family knew how he felt about his “talent.” It’d be unfair for them to expect more from him than he could give.
He flattened his palms over the cushioned back of the recliner and leaned forward. “What do they want from me?”
Graig shrugged his shoulders. “That is information I’m not privy to.”
Nick gave a dry laugh. “Sure.”
“It’s highly sensitive intelligence, that’s all I can confirm.”
“My work here is important, too.”
“To the emotional psyche of your people, yes.” Graig sighed. “Tell me, what would happen to your colleagues if you weren’t there? Would the project die?”
Of course it wouldn’t. The group of twenty-nine musically inclined and dedicated people would continue to work until the project was complete. The foundation of that argument was eroding almost faster than he could think.
Graig’s rugged features softened. “Your people need you more in your capacity as a healer right now, ropo.” My friend.
That was the strategically placed final nail in the proverbial coffin. “Shit.” He slumped his shoulders and bowed his head over his arms under the great weight that had settled on him. As much as he wished otherwise, there was only one choice. “When do we leave?”
“In the morning will be fine.” Graig rose from the couch, grabbing the second towel as he moved toward the front door.
He opened the door and gave a sharp whistle. A moment later a drenched form stepped through. The newcomer shed his black rain duster and accepted the dry towel. He was a few inches shorter than Graig, but clearly Terrian. A flicker of recognition flared in Nick’s mind, but no connection was made.
“Nick, you remember LaShawn Butler from Camp One.”
“Bock.” LaShawn nodded as he wiped the towel over his smooth chestnut brown pate. His all black outfit had ‘covert operations field agent’ written all over it.
“Uh, yeah. Been a while, man.” Nick hadn’t seen LaShawn since the reclamation of Terr from the Anferthians. The young man was only a few years older than him, about twenty-eight now, but his upbringing had been rough. It was difficult to reconcile the man standing in the foyer with the corn-rowed gangsta he had been. “What have you been up…wait, never mind. I know who was following me now.”
“Someone was following you?” LaShawn scrubbed the towel over the back of his neck.
Great. Here we go again. Nick pushed out of the chair and stalked toward the kitchen. “Very funny. I’m making chili and corn bread for dinner. Take it or leave it.”
~*~
Sakura Yamata slipped through the door of the educational exam lab of the Collegium of Healers Satellite Campus, also known as the New Damon Beach Infirmary. Magister Dacian was in full lecture mode as his latest batch of Matiran students gave him their undivided attention. Maggie Bock sat on the exam table swinging her legs back and forth, showing more patience than any average nine-year-old. She had been the ‘patient’ for the Immune Systems of Terrian Children versus Matiran Children lecture since before Sakura had arrived ten months ago. Sakura suppressed a chuckle. There was only one reason for the little girl’s extraordinary patience, and that was the chocolates waiting for her once Magister finished. A little bribery never hurt.
Maggie glanced her way and grinned. Sakura gave the pocket of her grey smock a pat. Yes, Maggie-chan, the candy is here. All children deserved spoiling, this one in particular. After arriving in New Damon Beach nine months ago, Sakura had not known anyone except Magister Dacian. Maggie had gazed up at her with those big green eyes and said, “You’re Uncle Dante’s new disipula. That means you’re part of his family. Me too. I like you.”
Melancholy seeped into her heart. It would be difficult to leave her newfound family, but she would have to, soon. The next phase of her healer training required her to be at the Collegium of Healers on Matir for as long as a year. Although, Magister’s former disipulas, Alex and Nick Bock, had completed all their training in just over two years, which was unusual. Normally it took four to five years. She was only the third Terrian to receive this training, and she hoped she would follow the same timeline as Maggie’s mother and uncle.
Alex had said much the same, and so far everything seemed to be right on schedule, which meant her stay at the Collegium might only be six months.
“All right, Maggie.” Magister ruffled the girl’s curls, which were every bit as dark as Sakura’s. “Thank you for helping us out yet again, but I believe it’s time for you to get to Professor Singh’s for your lessons.”
“Okay, Uncle Dante.” The girl slid off the table and bounced over to Sakura.
“Here you go, Maggie-chan.” Sakura fished through her pocket until her fingers closed over the Matiran candy. If only it was Meiji Chocolate, the Japanese candy she had grown up eating. M
aggie would have liked that, but Meiji did not exist anymore. Not since the Anferthians had wiped out just about everything seven years ago.
“Thank you, Sakura.” Maggie sing-songed her words, then opened the door and skipped from the room.
Sakura met Magister’s stern gaze. It would have been more effective if not for the twinkle of laughter in his brown eyes.
Magister turned back to his students. “Very well, then—”
“Uncle Nick!” Maggie’s shriek from the lobby cut off whatever Magister had been about to say.
Uncle Nick? The Uncle Nick? Sakura glanced at Magister. He seemed composed and in no way angry. He should be angry, though. She would be. Magister had never spoken ill of Alex’s brother, but she had heard from other students and townspeople about the day Nick had left. He had just walked out of the Infirmary, boarded the surface shuttle, and was rumored to be in the New L.A. area. Apparently he did not want to use his Gift anymore. Sakura clenched her teeth together. He disrespected everything their Gift to heal stood for, that self-centered jerk. Oh, yes, she would be furious if she was Magister. She was furious.
Magister smiled at his students, then at her. “There is someone here all of you should meet.”
The students followed him from the exam room and Sakura fell in behind them. The farther from Nick Bock she was, the better. The current state of her emotions might lead her to do or say something that would embarrass Magister.
“Nick, good to see you.” Magister’s voice was warm as he exchanged a hug with the tall Terrian man in the lobby. Maggie squeaked, squashed between them as she clung to her newly-returned uncle like a barnacle to a pier.
Nick’s lean frame was about three inches shorter than Magister’s six foot four inches. His brown hair had a hint of a wave to it, and his eyes were exactly like Alex’s: brown with bronze flecks. And, he was handsome.
Sakura gave her head a shake. No, not handsome. Okay, handsome. The type of guy who probably dated tall, anorexic super-model type women, not five-foot four-inch women with full hips and next to no breasts.
No! What was she thinking? His actions had proven him to be selfish and self-centered. A man who did not think about anyone’s feelings except his own.
“And this is my new disipula, Sakura Yamata.” Magister’s introduction yanked her from her jumbled thoughts. He was beaming at her.
This was not good. She had been so busy arguing with herself she had missed everyone else’s introduction. And now it was her turn to meet the wayward healer.
“You have a new disipula?” Was that a touch of envy in Nick’s voice?
“Indeed. I discovered Sakura and her Gift on a visit to Japan. She came to the infirmary last April.”
Nick’s smile seemed to have gone from genuine to forced. He extended his free hand, since Maggie did not seem inclined to release him. “Nice to meet you, Sakura.”
She moved her gaze from his face to his hand and back again. Then gave him a deep bow. “Ohayo gozaimasu, Nick-san.”
After she straightened, she raised her brows at him. Would he dare call her out for not accepting his handshake?
He lowered his hand to his side. “I have no idea what you just said.” His discomfort was clear, as if the admission somehow made him inferior to her. Good. A true healer would never have ditched his responsibility.
“I said, good morning. Magister Dacian once mentioned that you know other languages. Japanese is not one of them?”
His mouth opened, closed, then he shook his head. “No, Japanese is not one of them. Maybe you could teach me?”
A suggestive smile hovered on his lips, and she swallowed hard against the rising distaste at the back of her throat. She had not expected him to throw down his own challenge, especially one like that. But he was a man, so she should not be surprised.
“Students,” Magister said to the others. “If you will, retire to the study hall and review this morning’s lesson. Sakura and Nick, I will see you in my office, please.”
Chapter Three
Nick moved aside as Dante brushed past him in the direction of his office. The expression on the healer’s face was grim. This didn’t bode well. It seemed something big was about to go down, and with his luck he’d end up smack in the middle.
He gave Sakura a tight smile and flourished his hands in an after you gesture. She frowned, then stalked passed him, her cute, flat nose in the air. He stepped in behind her, his gaze drawn to the silky, dark ponytail bouncing mid-way between her shoulder blades. And the sway of her hips under her shapeless, grey healer’s smock….
Jesus, what was wrong with him? He was ogling her like a pubescent boy, which was crazy. She was nothing like any woman he’d ever been attracted to, ever. Tall and blonde, that’s how he liked ’em. Sakura was the polar opposite. And what was up with her attitude, Miss Japanese-is-not-one-of-them? English, Matiran, and four years of high school French. That was the extent of his linguistic knowledge. So the hell what? It wasn’t like he was competing with his brother-in-law, Gryf, who spoke twenty Earth languages, and who-knew-how-many galactic languages.
“Close the door please, Nick.” Dante’s request snapped Nick back to reality.
He complied, then sat in the chair next to the one Sakura occupied. Dante slid a very large, very thick book bound in dark green leather off one bookshelf and dropped on his desk with a floor-vibrating thud.
A soft, humorous sound escaped Nick. “I’m guessing that’s not the complete works of Shakespeare.” He leaned forward to read the blocky, gilt print on the book’s cover. “Anferthian Health and Anatomy?”
“Anferthian?” Sakura’s brow furrowed. It seemed this entire situation baffled her as much it did as him. Good.
The expression on Dante’s face was grave. “There is a developing situation on which you two will be briefed. You have twenty-four hours to digest as much of this book’s content as possible before your ten a.m. meeting with Ambassador K’nil tomorrow. I want both of you as well-versed as possible on at least the basics of Anferthian physiology. In depth research can be done later.”
Nick met his mentor’s gaze. “A situation on Anferthia?”
“I cannot say.”
“But healers are needed?” Sakura probed.
Dante’s jaw tightened, a sure sign that someone had lit his fuse. “Yes.” The word was stiff and final. No arguments would be accepted.
Well, damn it all. Dante must have been ordered not to talk about it—whatever it was. And who’d pissed him off so royally? It couldn’t have been K’nil. The Anferthian Ambassador to Terr rarely pissed off anyone—except members of the Anferthian Arruch Union, the political party currently in power on Anferthia. The masterminds of Terr’s invasion seven years ago. But even that was rare despite the fact the K’nil was anti-Arruch. Something only a handful of people in the entire universe knew for sure.
Nick blew out a breath. Twenty Questions used to be a fun game. Now he dreaded the answer to the question at the top of his mind. “We’re leaving Ear…Terr, aren’t we?”
“The crisis is not on Terr. Both of you may draw your conclusions as you see fit,” Dante replied. “There are certain questions I cannot and will not answer today.”
“Gee, Dante, what can you tell us?”
Dante’s expression was apologetic. Unbelievable.
“Wait.” Sakura fixed Dante with a speculative look. “Are there any parts of the book we should or should not focus on?”
“I would not waste any time on Anferthian reproduction,” Dante replied quietly. “The circulatory and immune systems on the other hand may help, however do not limit yourselves. Did you drop your bags at the student dorm, Nick?”
Nick gave his head a nod. “Graig took them. Sent me straight here after our shuttle landed.”
“Good. You two take this book there and start studying. Once the rest of the students return this evening, bring it back. You may continue your studying here tonight.”
/> Nick met Sakura’s dark-eyed gaze. “Sure hope you slept well, because it looks like we’ll be pulling an all-nighter.”
She nodded, rose from the chair and bowed. “Thank you, Magister. We will start right away.”
Appearing all business, Dante’s new disipula strode toward the door as if she fully expected Nick to fall in behind her. Wasn’t she going to be surprised? As she passed through to the lobby beyond, he paused just short of the doorway. She must have sensed this because she turned, a deep frown marring her round face.
Nick wiggled his fingers in her direction and shut the door on her dour expression. The sound of her gasp that slipped through the crack just before the door snicked closed filled him with satisfaction.
“I presume there is a reason for your rude behavior, Nicholaus,” Dante said.
Nick turned back to face his friend and jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. “You sure about her?”
“Is there a problem?”
“Yes.” Nick sat down on the edge of one of the chairs. “She’s, well….” He drew his brows together and frowned. Great. Now his words deserted him. Didn’t that just figure?
Dante gazed at him with an expectant look.
Best to go for broke on this one. “Okay, she’s abrasive, uptight, and may have an anger management problem.” That had sounded way better in his head.
“More than you?”
Whoa, what?
Dante leaned forward, his hands folded on his desk. “Nick, Sakura is my disipula and therefore my responsibility, just as you were. She is at least as gifted as you, and I anticipate her training will be as brief as yours. However, she is almost twenty-four. Had I discovered her sooner, she would be a full-fledged master healer by now. As my colleague I expect you to treat her as you would any other healer-in-training. You will put your differences aside, reach out to her, and share your knowledge, because the Holy Mother knows we are in desperate need of talented healers. And, as I see it, you have no other option.”
