by Candace Sams
“You’re his mate!” Cordis suddenly blurted.
“Our arrangement is for the duration of this mission. He thinks he’s protecting me — ”
“If he put that band on your arm, it was not just for protection.” He wearily plopped back down against the pillows.
Beads of perspiration scattered across his forehead. She swiped at them with her hand then arranged his covers.
What words could she say to give hope? Common sense told her there was none. But he was injured and it seemed cruel to offer anything else. “The med-tech has something to make you feel better. Remember, you need to stay quiet.”
“If it’s t-true that Soldar is as near as the enemy, then do not b-bring him here,” he haltingly insisted. “Do not tell him I’m present.”
“I think he’d want to — ”
“He will try to save me!” Cordis glared at her as his hands clenched into fists. “In the absence of any Earth officer, regulations give me the right to command you, Sergeant. I outrank you. And on this issue I remain adamant.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “All right … okay! Whatever it takes to shut you up.”
The similarity of the brothers’ thinking wasn’t lost on her. She was on the Venus because Soldar quoted the same regulation Cordis just had.
“I-I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he apologized.
“No worries. Just rest easy. You’ll be better soon.”
Luckily, Myranda arrived only a few moments later, carrying a small injection gun. Lyra gladly vacated her spot so the other woman could do her job.
“Glad to see you’re awake,” Myranda softly said as she gazed at Cordis. “I’m going to administer a general antibiotic. It’ll work on just about anything you might have picked up outside the ship.” She put the injector gun to the side of her patient’s neck. “I’m also shooting you up with something to make you sleep.”
Cordis winced when the trigger was pulled, but he had time to reiterate his command. “Do not tell him about m-me. He must continue h-his mission … ”
Lyra watched the man drift off to sleep and saw Myranda glance at her questioningly.
“What’s going on?” the med-tech asked.
“Strange and maybe not so coincidental shit! If you have a couple of minutes I’ll explain,” Lyra said as she ran a hand over her forehead.
• • •
Half an hour later, Lyra finally walked out of Myranda’s makeshift infirmary with the profound sense of having too much weighing on her soul. It wasn’t enough that she and her partner were about to die. Everyone would when the Condorians eventually discovered the hidden allies. But the occurrences of the night were so twisted and irregular as to confound anyone.
She was deep in thought, trying to make sense of the night’s discoveries, but jumped and automatically assumed a fighting stance when a body rounded the corner. She was equally quick to relax when Aigean stood in her path. “Where were you tonight?” Lyra demanded. “Sol and I were expecting to find you in D’uhr’s quarters.”
“There was some business requiring my personal attention,” Aigean quickly explained. “I just left the admiral’s quarters, and came searching because Gentis told me she’d seen you in this area. She tells me you got your hands on some medicine.”
“I did.” Lyra stepped closer to the Elderian woman. “Why didn’t you tell me your med-tech is from Earth or that the Condorians are carrying some disease?”
“Don’t presume to question me,” Aigean furiously responded. “What difference does any of that make? We needed Myranda’s skills. She needs to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. As to the ailment afflicting the enemy, there’s enough fight left in them to kill everyone on every allied world. Their maladies don’t concern me.”
“And what about that Craetorian warrior brought aboard with the other injured?” Lyra further quizzed. “Did you know he’s Soldar’s brother and that Soldar thinks he’s dead?”
Aigean simply stared back with a passive look on her face.
Lyra’s fingers curled into fists. “You did know!”
“I have two reasons for seeking you out,” Aigean said, ignoring Lyra’s suspicions. “The first was to see if you had safely delivered the medicine to Myranda. The second was to impart news of an urgent nature.”
“What news?”
“Listen carefully. I haven’t time to be interrogated.” Aigean glanced around before beginning. “My servants inform me there was some kind of confrontation in D’uhr’s quarters. I arrived too late to see it, but I’ve been told the situation was serious.”
“What about Sol — ”
“I’m informed his anger was such that he actually struck a support beam and bent it.” Aigean clasped her hand and sighed. “He’s back in his quarters. Servants say he’s still angry enough to kill someone.”
“What about D’uhr?”
“Leave him to me and my people. Get back to your quarters and be careful. A Craetorian’s rage can be very … ” She stopped and briefly closed her eyes before continuing with her warning. “Just get back to your quarters and don’t anger him further!”
Lyra looked into Aigean’s eyes and knew things were falling apart. There was nothing left to say so she strode past the Elderian and silently prayed somebody would end this crazy mission soon.
Chapter 9
As with Lyra’s trip to the hidden infirmary, there were no guards in the passageways. The lax security told her D’uhr’s minions had either been called elsewhere, or their level of sobriety was so precarious that duties were no longer a priority.
That situation changed when she walked down the final stretch to her quarters.
From many yards away, she saw Condorian guards standing on either side of the hatch to her space. The glares on their faces indicated what they’d like to do, but they said nothing. She noted the telltale red marks and red rings around their throats and faces. It looked like their sickness was progressing.
It took everything she had to paste on an unconcerned look, open the hatch slowly, and leisurely stroll in. Until she knew who was inside, she’d play the witless sex diva to the last.
Thankfully, she was met by servants. They’d faithfully remained to divert any thieving guards away from the bulkhead computer. These silent, blue-robed allies said nothing, but kept their heads down or averted.
A sound made her turn her head to the left.
Soldar stood by a refreshment station pouring Alturian whisky into a glass. There was no mistaking the shape of the bottle or its contents. His insistence on keeping a clear head was to his credit. But something had made him reconsider that rule.
“Are we entertaining … guests?” she quietly asked.
One of the servants finally lifted his head and shook it in denial. She let out a long sigh of relief and moved closer to Sol.
Her Craetorian partner hadn’t even acknowledged her presence when she entered, but promptly turned his back on her now. When he remained silent for almost five minutes more, she tried again.
“I overheard you and Aigean talking about the survivors,” she admitted. When he didn’t respond, she pursued the subject. “I took the vial D’uhr chucked at me to the med-tech. As it turns out, she’s from Earth. Aigean rescued her from a crash site before the Condorians overran the ship.”
There was still no response, so she dug in like a Preatorian Fever Tick.
“You knew I’d try to get my hands on medicine. That’s why you didn’t want me knowing about the injured. Am I right?”
Whatever had happened in D’uhr’s quarters, he wasn’t opening up. She took heed of Aigean’s warning but they had to communicate. Soldar couldn’t stand there forever, silently drinking himself into a stupor.
“Look … I’m sorry I eavesdropped. It wasn’t like I planned it,” she
softly apologized. “And I had no idea that you’d revert to your original plan … pretending to be a private sex toy, I mean.” She moved closer, trying to get him to look at her. “You know, your acting skills are amazing. You had me believing you wanted D’uhr. He’s obsessed with you. I could see it in his eyes.”
To get his attention, she almost blurted out the news of his brother’s survival. But years of following orders made her close her mouth. Cordis was right. Sol would try to get to his brother. And while the injured soldiers would be discovered soon enough, there was no sense getting Myranda killed for harboring spies. D’uhr might need a med-tech, but there was a limit to what the enemy would tolerate. In Myranda’s case, she’d be lucky to die quickly.
• • •
Soldar stared down into his drink.
He should have known his silence wouldn’t drive her off. He listened to her ramble on for some time but couldn’t respond.
When she eventually asked the servants to complete their chores in some other part of their quarters, he knew the woman wasn’t going to simply take a shower and go to bed.
Her eavesdropping on his conversation with Aigean should have been a serious matter. He should be lecturing her about the need to come to him with misunderstandings. But the occurrences in D’uhr’s quarters were so bizarre that he couldn’t get his head wrapped around them. His shock was as deep as any of the Condorians who’d witnessed the event. In fact, they’d backed away from him when it had happened.
Aigean or one of her people had obviously told Lyra about the confrontation. It was equally clear they were leaving specifics for him to explain. But how could he? He had no answers for the thing that had arisen from deep within him and had gone away just as quickly.
In the deepest part of Craetorian history, the ability he’d displayed was archived. It had a name no one on his planet took seriously since it was more legend than fact.
The darkening.
How was he going to tell Lyra he’d shape shifted right in front of everyone and for no other apparent reason than he’d had enough of the Condorians?
He threw back the contents of another glass, put it down, and slowly turned to her.
“Soldar … what happened tonight?” she slowly asked.
The question was put to him quietly and with an almost reverent care. There was a deep, concerned look in her blue-green eyes that made him want to scream he’d never hurt her. But how did he know that? He kept seeing the faces of those Condorians when they’d backed away. It was the first time he’d ever witnessed their version of paralyzing fear.
He should tell her. He should.
But what did one say when the sudden ability to shape shift — along with the comprehension of was happening — suddenly manifested? Worse, he felt he’d done it before. And that was scaring the hell out of him.
He took a deep breath and tried to speak normally.
“I … I accepted this mission to get close to D’uhr. Doing so might have left me feeling somewhat … degraded,” he softly told her. “But I’m dealing with it.”
“Tell me,” she prompted as she moved closer.
“The fight you heard about had nothing to do with D’uhr. He was drunk and full of drugs. He’ll sleep for some time. Obviously, our covers are still intact or we’d be dead.”
“You look like someone did something — ”
“I’m all right,” he reiterated as he lifted his chin and injected what he hoped was a note of dignity into his voice.
She reached up, gently cupped his cheek, and stared at him. Then she lowered her hand and swallowed hard before speaking. Her attempts to be gentle would have been sweetly comical had the night not played out in a way no one could have imaged. He finally had to say something if for no other reason than to ease the fear she was displaying. And all of it was on his behalf, not her own.
“One of the servants told me about the disease that seems unique to the enemy,” he said. “It’s said there’s no treatment though it hasn’t led to any deaths.” His change of subject wasn’t working. He saw how desperate she was to know about the situation in D’uhr’s quarters, but he just couldn’t speak of it. Not yet.
Her next words were a tactful ploy. Her discretion originated from what she thought was his lurid sexual encounter with D’uhr. Little did she know.
“Um … like I said … the med-tech is from Earth. Her name is Myranda Chase and she knows about us,” Lyra advised. “It’s a long story, but she got trapped on the Venus and is claiming neutrality like us. I … I wasn’t sure if you’d been told any of this.”
A long interval followed. It was clear she didn’t know what to say, and was probably convinced he’d been raped when he hadn’t been. There simply was no way to describe the sudden manifestation of a shape shifting ability that shouldn’t exist.
“Sol, I’ve gotta ask again. Will you please tell me what they did to you?”
He stared straight into her eyes and said the only thing he could. “It’s done. There’s no sense speaking of it.”
“I don’t like that answer, but … I’ll be here to listen if you change your mind.”
In that moment he wanted to take her hand, head for the nearest exit, and take their chances in the badlands of Reisen Four. They’d never live out another day. He knew it. D’uhr would be told what he’d done and would have them both killed. He was now far too dangerous to be kept alive.
“Lyra … I need to give you the entire authentication sequence in case something happens to me.”
“Only officers with security clearances have it. I … I don’t — ”
He gently took her by the shoulders and more firmly put forth his case. “Be quiet and listen to me!”
She dropped her gaze to the middle of his chest but did as he ordered.
“I have a bad feeling about what’s coming next,” he told her. “This is why I’m ordering you to accept this information. If something happens, you might be able to continue the mission.”
“Sol, I could be tortured. If they got the sequence out of me, they could send any message and trap the allied fleet. Eventually HQ would figure out the breach, but they’d be transmitting information for days before that happened.”
“The Condorians don’t know our frequencies,” he lamely offered.
“If they get the damned sequencing, how much longer would it take to figure out we’re using normal frequencies because our cadets … which are what’s left of our crews … can’t process anything complicated!” She lifted her hands in supplication. “Why are we standing here arguing the obvious? If you die, so will I.”
“Not necessarily.” He lifted one hand to run it over her hair, but quickly dropped it. He didn’t yet trust himself near her. Not so soon after experiencing what he had in D’uhr’s quarters. He briefly closed his eyes then opened them to continue what might be his last command. “I know having that kind of information frightens you, but you’ll be in charge when I die. I have faith in you, you won’t be alone. Aigean will make sure nothing can be tortured out of you,” he said with finality.
“You’re saying all this as if you’ll be checking out soon,” she whispered.
He simply lowered his head but was heartened to hear her next words.
“All right. I’ll do it and I won’t let you down.”
He put his mind on the equations and nothing else. Time was so short. Ironically, he wanted to live more than ever. He wanted to know why he’d shifted, what the hell had caused it, and why the Condorians so feared what they’d seen. But everything was coming to an end. He could literally feel it, the way he felt her warm presence standing so near.
“The sequencing is based on mathematics,” he began. “The first one you used was a rather simple equation for escape velocity. The next authentication code will be that same formula, adding one for per
igee radius Rp. Subsequently — ”
“The next code would be the first, the second, and then add on a calculation for eccentricity of orbit. This is all rocket science.”
Her words made him smile when nothing else could have. “So … the computer hacker knows a bit more than she lets on, eh?”
“I’m not as stupid as I look. Vector squared equals vector parameter. And radius times one, times radius squared,” she recited.
“I believed I held all the cards in this game. But I should have known better,” he admitted while smiling more broadly. “Since we met, you’ve outshone me in every way.”
His reservations about touching her fled. He suddenly understood he’d never harm her. He couldn’t. And with that realization, he granted himself permission to do as his heart bid. He gently pulled her into his embrace.
“Just remember, Lyra, the sequencing changes every seventy-two hours.”
“I know what to do,” she confirmed as she blinked back tears.
“I wish … ”
“What? What do you wish?” she softly asked when he hesitated.
Soldar brushed her cheek with the knuckles of his left hand and stroked her armband with the other. “I wish we could have met somewhere else, under other circumstances.”
“This is all we have. This is it.”
“I know. We don’t know what will happen when D’uhr awakens. If he shows up here and forces himself into our quarters, he should find you in one bed and me in another. He needs to think my favor rests with him and that you mean no more to me than part of a show. We need sleep … but there are things I need to say.”
“I’m listening,” she insisted as she gazed up at him.
“Lyra … I hope you and the Creator of all things will forgive me for my selfishness. My mind should be on the consequences of what happened in D’uhr’s quarters. But it isn’t. All I can think about is what might have been.”
