Fusion (Crimson Romance)

by Candace Sams

  The servant girl who was to be replaced on the bridge handed Aigean two vials of white powder. These were only about an inch in length.

  “This is the same sleeping potion my crew carries,” Aigean explained. “You should have been told about this concoction while you were changing, Lyra?”

  Lyra nodded. She took the vials from Gentis and tucked them within the sleeve of her robe. “It makes me wonder what other little tricks you’ve got tucked away. Conveniently!”

  Aigean ignored the sarcastic comment and reiterated the plans. “Get to the bulkhead computer over there, and start memorizing your route,” she commanded as she pointed toward the other end of the living space where the computer was situated. “The walk from here to the bridge is quite simple. You’ll meet other employees bringing food and beverages to the bridge, simply blend in with them. If something should go wrong, and you cannot hack the Condorian security codes, stop what you’re doing and run. But not back to this space,” she insisted. “Remember, for all intents and purposes, you’re a Cloton woman. If the Condorians suspect you and you return here, Soldar will be immediately taken into custody as a conspirator. There are other places where you can hide. Places where Lyra Markham will not be connected to any Cloton servant from the bridge. If you can stay hidden until you can discard the costume and the makeup, you might still survive. Understand?”

  “Yes. The servants listed a few places to run,” Lyra confirmed as she arranged her robe around her. “Everything hinges on my being able to hack the security encryption the Condorians placed on your bridge console in the first place. And if I can get past that without an alarm going off, then all I have to do is link the allied authentication codes hidden in the bulkhead computer here, attach them to the message concerning the next Condorian attack, and then send the whole flaming mess through space … praying like hell it gets to the remaining allies close enough to receive the message.” She paused and glanced around. “What the hell could go wrong? It’s a frickin’ piece of cake.”

  “You will not be associated with whatever happens on the bridge,” Aigean contended. “The Condorians will be looking for a Cloton if anything goes wrong. Hence the disguise.”

  “Which brings up the million dollar question,” Lyra shot back. “What happens to the Clotons on this ship if one is suspected of spying?”

  Gentis took the opportunity to speak. “I am the only one of my race on board, Lyra. And I am prepared to accept the consequences.”

  Soldar had stood silently by up to that point. But now he had to speak up. The plans had never included implicating an innocent woman. “Aigean, you’d be sacrificing this girl. You’ve set this up on purpose!” He shook his head in frustration. “I can understand Lyra’s anger. Parts of this mission are moving too fast, and you aren’t communicating with us as well as you should.”

  Aigean sighed heavily and faced them. “If I don’t tell you everything I’ve planned, then I have good reason. The less you know in some instances, the better. Gentis is prepared to be blamed so that your covers remain intact,” she stated. “It still may not work if D’uhr discovers our ruse. In that event, we’ll all be dead anyway. Besides all this … the circumstances being discussed will be moot if you don’t get caught, Lyra. Do your jobs correctly and everyone remains safe.”

  Soldar gestured toward their bulkhead computer, indicating the need to access the ship’s schematics. His Earth comrade pursed her lips, but strode to the far end of their living space without further comment. Gentis followed her, apparently to help bring up the schematics.

  He then turned his narrowed gaze back on Aigean. Something wasn’t right. The owner of the Venus was altering plans without consulting them. He and Lyra were simply expected to accept the arrangements.

  But for now, he and Lyra simply had no other choice but to proceed.

  • • •

  It was ten minutes before midnight when Lyra stepped out of their quarters and into the passageway. As she did so, Sol simultaneously entered the long authentication code into the bulkhead computer in their quarters. That code was the only thing Allied Command would use to verify messages as being real. Everything — including Gentis’ life — depended on acting as if she was who she was pretending to be. She drew herself up and made a determined decision.

  No matter what happens, I won’t fail. I won’t.

  With thoughts of one young girl’s life hanging in the balance, she became less and less frightened.

  As she blended in with other servants who were moving toward the bridge, they silently nodded in acceptance of her disguise. They knew who she was, seemingly agreeable to the plans of the evening.

  Together, she and five others finally stood outside the bridge hatch and entered as a group. Each of them silently went about distributing food. The fare had been sent up from the galley via small service lifts within the bulkheads.

  Once this chore was done, they proceeded to take away the remains of the Condorians’ previous meal, clean the area, and bring the bridge officers anything not accessible from the galley, including drugs and alcohol.

  Broken bottles and half-eaten food was strewn everywhere. That the bridge officers felt so comfortable carousing on the main command post said much about their arrogance and complacency.

  Lyra forced herself to ignore everything except the mission. All she had to do was get as close as she could to a transmission terminal. More than a dozen were located throughout the ballroom-sized space. Her heart began to beat faster as she actually recognized the electronics in the consoles.

  Like many allied vessels nowadays, Aigean had apparently salvaged her equipment from old, class three transport vessels just like those she’d seen on numerous barges. These barges had served as shuttles for her division as they’d made their way to the outermost part of the galaxy and into battle zones. Watching the repairmen fix those electronics had kept her mind off the coming fights. She’d learned enough to even help repair them when flying time became too tedious.

  This is almost too easy.

  When one of her hooded male comrades dropped his serving tray then looked up at her covertly, she knew she was being given her diversion. The Condorians near her clumsy friend cursed his getting in their way. Their attention was briefly focused on ensuing subservient and loud apologies.

  She maneuvered a cart full of alcohol close to one terminal, used her wide robe as a shield, then acted as though she was distributing the drinks on a flat panel directly over and behind it.

  It took only a moment to locate a translator switch at the top of the console. It was on as it should be, but the entire computer section was set to operate in Condorian.

  Covertly scanning as she poured drinks, she quickly located a button bearing three overlapping circles. This control universally represented Earth English. She pressed it then began.

  While pretending to rearrange glasses, bottles, and other paraphernalia with her left hand, she entered her message on the old-fashioned touch pad with her right one. The sleeve of her long robe hid her movements as her fingers flew over the surface of the pad.

  Condorian attack eminent. Taurean Seti-Seven.

  Then she easily accessed the authentication codes from Sol’s location.

  The message was composed; the codes to authenticate it were attached. The entire task only took her just a couple of minutes. The only impediment was getting by any security lock set up by the Condorians.

  By ordering the computer to sequence and re-sequence every digit and symbol on the pad, it should only take a few moments to break through any locking ciphers. But knowing she’d gotten so far without mishap didn’t make her feel any easier — if she set off an alarm, the bridge hatch would likely close to contain her, all the servants, and the Condorians.

  Suddenly a green light appeared at the top of the console. This signaled the system was ready to send th
e message she’d composed.

  It can’t be this simple.

  She swallowed hard when reality smacked her in the face. The security key to allow messaging was the hull number on the ship. Aigean’s original bridge crew — now known to her as the servants who’d helped her put on her disguise — had told her the old unlocking numbers. They hadn’t assumed the Condorians had left them intact but had mentioned them as a reference, a place to begin hacking.

  Out of fear and the desire to move as fast as possible, she’d subconsciously entered the numbers they’d given her. That was why the keys on the pad looked so worn.

  Oddly, the Condorians had never replaced Aigean’s security pass with some locking ID of their own. As she stood there staring down at the console in shock, the reason suddenly became obvious.

  Why should they change it?

  This particular enemy nest was deep behind enemy lines, just where D’uhr had ordered it. His arrogance was such that he believed no one on the Venus would ever attempt what she just had. In fact, he probably thought Aigean’s people were too frightened, subservient, or unintelligent to make this attempt.

  Without considering her luck one more second, her thumb hit the send button and she glanced down to make sure the red transmit light was operational. It took a few seconds more before that red light turned green again then went out.

  This sequence indicated the task had been successfully completed.

  For a long moment thereafter, her mouth went dry and her hands shook. As the others around her hurried through their work, she helped and mimicked their motions to clean and haul away old debris for the incinerator.

  Almost an hour later, she walked back into the passageway with the others, barely believing the scheme had worked. Her conspirators glanced at her questioningly as they walked. She covertly nodded, but said nothing. The answering look in their gazes was worth every risk she’d just endured.

  Then reality set in.

  This little escapade would only last until D’uhr figured out the nearby sector attacks had been thwarted. He’d be embarrassed among his peers, which was no small thing for a Condorian leader of his ilk. She’d heard competitive high-ranking officials used failure as an excuse to remove others from powerful positions.

  Assuming this was true, D’uhr would go seeking answers. Failing any other reason for the allies to have evacuated Taurean Seti-Seven, he’d go straight to Aigean. And if he searched her ship’s files deeply enough and her transmission wasn’t overwritten, all hell would break loose. The entire ship’s compliment would be lined up as spies. And that quick end she’d prayed for would be replaced by a round of arduous tortures. Still, innocent lives had been saved. For this moment in time, D’uhr was being outwitted. And that stood for something.

  • • •

  Soldar paced the length of his quarters. “She should be back by now.”

  “If the alarm hasn’t sounded, then she completed her task,” Aigean soothed. “Have you no faith in her abilities?”

  “I’d have more if we’d been better briefed,” he curtly replied. But he quickly turned when the hatch buzzer sounded. One of Aigean’s servants checked the monitor, opened the hatch, and let Lyra in. Without thinking of how his actions would be perceived, he moved quickly toward her, swept her into his embrace, and held on tightly.

  “It went just as planned,” she murmured against his shoulder and hugged him back with equal fervor. “The damned access encryption is still the hull number. The idiots never changed it.”

  “That actually makes sense. There’s no need to,” Soldar agreed.

  “Of course not!” Aigean chimed in as she lifted her hands in surprise. “The bastard’s son is aboard. I’ll bet my last breath that D’uhr is using him to transmit every battle plan from another enemy vessel. Some ship out in orbit. D’uhr wants nothing known about his occupying the Venus. He wouldn’t take a chance on transmitting vital information from this bridge if there was any way it could be traced back here.”

  “He’d have every Condorian who didn’t know about this little oasis calling for his blood,” Lyra remarked as she pulled herself from Soldar’s embrace. “If it wasn’t for the fact that we’d all be slaughtered, I’d like to transmit a little memo to the rest of his stinking fleet!”

  “We mustn’t pat ourselves on the back prematurely,” Aigean reminded them. “The evening’s activities aren’t done. We must tread carefully. D’uhr still wants to see the new sex act in his quarters.” She clapped her hands for servants in the other areas of their quarters to come forward. “Lyra, get out of that wig and makeup,” she commanded. “My women will help you. We have no time to lose. D’uhr wants to be impressed. You must look nothing less than splendid. And remember … behave as though you’re above everyone in his quarters. You and Soldar have established yourselves as celebrities and you must act the part.”

  • • •

  Lyra stood beside Sol and tried very hard not to stare at his muscular frame. The skin tight black pants he wore with matching leather belt and tall black boots did nothing to hide every bulge. His shirt consisted of nothing but a white sleeveless tunic that was open in front. It made his bronzed, healthy skin look more appealing. She was in tight black pants and high boots as well, and her bustier pushed parts of her breasts up and forward to the point that she might as well not have any top on at all. She now sported what could only be referred to as shelf cleavage. Sol kept staring down at her, shaking his head as if he didn’t approve of the clothing. But what could he really say to change the need of it? She’d already made love to him in front of hundreds of thuggish Condorians. It was expected that her clothing would be a bit revealing without offering free visible access of the goods.

  “Remember,” Aigean instructed for the hundredth time, “I’ll join you in D’uhr’s quarters soon. It wouldn’t do for me to walk in on your heels. I’m supposed to be attending to other business as usual. I know you’ve studied the ship’s blueprints so you won’t miss your destination. Good luck to you both.”

  Without another word, Lyra took Soldar’s hand as he walked out of their quarters. She felt his strong grasp around her palm and could almost smell his anger. He was like a walking time bomb; he was a man who was used to being in command. But on this ship and during this mission, Aigean was making sure her agenda came first.

  The smell and the rowdy sounds coming from Condorian quarters told Lyra she was in the right passageway. Sol stopped and stared down at her for a moment.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered. “I can feel you shaking.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize. I’ll be fine.”

  He put one hand on her left cheek. “Don’t forget. That armband marks you as my mate. Even if I’m acting as though I prefer men, it’ll be expected that I react violently to any contact on your person. It’s a pride thing,” he explained. “That reaction would be expected from any Craetorian. Understand?”

  “If you do that you could get yourself killed.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe the odd luck we’ve had will hold and these bastards will be so full of booze and drugs they won’t notice us. Now stay close.”

  She took a deep breath and gripped his hand even harder. To her surprise, he lifted it and kissed the back of her palm only seconds before they walked into the sickening, stench-filled den the enemy had made of their quarters.

  Everywhere Lyra looked, Condorian men were lying on pillow beds with male and female sex givers. Some were in the process of feeding each other fresh fruit, and others, more secreted in other gauzy parts of the large space, were moaning. She heard soft entreaties for partners to continue with whatever they were doing.

  Pasting on a jaded expression was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Her brief experience on a pleasure ship was nothing like this. On other such ships spaces had been kept separate, like hotel rooms. But her lim
ited experience in that regard seemed like a hundred years ago, when she was less exposed to the cruelties of life.

  She strode into the darkened room, where only artificial candlelight illuminated small tables near a bar. Couples not ensconced in darkened recesses talked, kissed, or felt each other up as a preamble to sexual interludes. Since they’d got this far without much notice, Lyra kept her mouth shut and her eyes peeled for anyone approaching.

  • • •

  Soldar took a seat at the end of the bar, with his back to a bulkhead. He pulled a stool very close to him and held Lyra’s hand as she mounted the cushioned chair next to him. The blue-robed crewman behind the bar nodded surreptitiously toward them both.

  “I think you’ll find our ale to your liking,” the barman suggested.

  Sol nodded and held up two fingers indicating that they’d both have the same thing. When two silver goblets were placed in front of them, however, the beverage he sipped was nothing more powerful than amber-colored fruit nectar. He glanced over the top of his drink at Lyra. She acknowledged her non-alcoholic beverage with a covert drop of her chin. It seemed that — while the brothel participants stirred around them, and were fueled by too much wine, hallucinogens, and aphrodisiacs — they’d likely remain the only sober revelers besides Aigean’s crew.

  After a few moments of sitting in silence and blissfully being left alone, their luck ran out. From some sordid, smelly hole Soldar glumly noted the approach of their host.

  Kardis D’uhr stumbled toward him, their nemesis’ eyes latched onto his presence … not Lyra’s.

  The nasty bastard was tightening his belt as he half-wobbled forward, leaving any sober person to assume the man had just exited a bed. Had Lyra not suggested their pairing as a sex act, he would have arrived on the Venus as a prostitute, and might have just shared that same seedy den with D’uhr.