Pete gave a small shake of his head without looking up from his station. "Nearest safe containment doesn’t have her. Contacting next in line."
"Found another possible bomb," Asha added to the tension, her voice thin and high.
"Show me," Ryelle clipped. The station diagram appeared again before her, narrowing on an area that she thought might be another wormhole generator. "Thank you. Checking now. Got it." She contained the object in a bubble of force, comparing it to the other one she held with a grim clench of her jaw. That man had been quite busy. Erratic, but busy. She couldn’t see a focused strategy in the placements of the bombs so far, except for the one that had taken out her rooms. Just terrorization? Keeping her busy? Trying to divide her attention enough so she’d lose focus?
Ryelle ran a suspicious wave of talent through the GenTec ships, but the only thing she found was a half-repaired weapon system. She shredded it once more and refocused on the more personal drama unfolding before her. Watching Declan’s muscles clench into stone, she winced in sympathy and wrapped her arms around herself to keep from throwing them around him. She was spiking power out in too many different directions now to get near without incapacitating him.
"Pete," Declan rasped in harsh command.
"I’m trying, Dec," Pete answered, running a frantic hand through his wild hair. "Haven’t found her yet. A station wide alert would be faster—"
The door opened and Declan’s mother stepped through, her face set in stern lines and eyes snapping with indigo temper. "Declan Grievus McCrae, what the hell kind of operation are you running here?"
Declan whipped around, his face lighting up with relief. "Mom," he blurted, as she caught sight of the dark children and skittered away from them with a muffled yelp.
Regina ignored her son for a moment, studying the telenetic children while Declan sagged against the rail and wiped a hand over his face. "That’s the weirdest thing I’ve seen in a long time," she finally declared then looked up to give Ryelle a crisp nod. "Still around, I see."
"Yes, Mem," Ryelle responded with an uncontainable smile. "We’re glad to see you."
The woman lifted an eyebrow in an expression so reminiscent of her son that Ryelle felt a warm burst of affection for her in spite of the coolness in her assessing gaze.
Declan was at his mother’s side in two long strides, interrupting her perusal of Ryelle by enfolding her in a rough hug. "Mom, where the hell have you been?"
"Where have I been?" she snapped, though the angry tone was diluted and muffled by his shirt. She worked loose of his arms until he was holding just her shoulders, then glared up at her son. "What the hell is going on around here, Declan? You tell everybody to huddle in their quarters because we’re being attacked by GenTec, then you let us all twist in the wind. I’ve been fielding rumors that we’re being invaded, that half the station’s been mutated or blown up. It’s chaos down there, Master Chief Engineer McCrae, and pretty soon people are going to get hurt." She paused, narrowed her eyes on him. "And you didn’t tell me you were okay."
Declan grimaced a little under his mother’s censure but didn’t let her go, giving her a little shake instead. "You’re supposed to stay in safe containment, Mother. That’s why they call it safe. The GenTec are immobilized. We’ve got a different problem."
"Immobilized?" Regina repeated in a skeptical tone, eyes flashing to Ryelle.
Ryelle turned her head to look at Pete, but he was ahead of her. A holo of the drifting GenTec ships appeared at Regina’s elbow. She jumped then frowned around the room. "I wish you kids would stop doing that. It’s hard on the nerves."
"Sorry, Mem," Pete called without the least bit of remorse in his tone.
Regina studied the hologram with raised eyebrows. "So what’s the different problem?"
"One of the supply pilots, man named Ventura, is blowing up large chunks of my station." Declan turned his head to meet Ryelle’s gaze, ignoring his mother’s gasp. "Can you try a scan?"
Ryelle gave him a solemn nod. "I’ll need to know where the security teams are, though, so we don’t have any false alarms."
"On it," one of the crew called from below. Ryelle thought it might have been the young blonde with the cocky grin, the one who’d hit on her with shameless cheer when Declan had been avoiding her.
"How do I get out of your way?" Declan asked, releasing his mother.
"Just stand still. I’ll do my best to…go around." She saw his chest rise in a deep breath and bit her lips to keep from smirking. If she couldn’t keep her talent from him, his mother was going to get a very uncomfortable education about her son.
A hologram appeared, another diagram of the station with blinking dots. "Best we can figure on short notice," Sven called from below. "We’ll adjust it as we get more info."
"Thanks. Scanning now." Ryelle closed her eyes, adjusting her focus and concentrating on each of her ongoing projects first. Strengthening her containment of the bombs, she checked her GenTec alert system, and then assessed the children for any telenetic rebellion. They seemed only confused and worried, not tensed for battle. The only ability they used was in levitating the pizza. She folded a protective bubble around them, well aware that she was doing it as much for their safety as to keep them from acting. She was starting to fall for these children and that was as dangerous as it was miraculous.
When she was confident that all of her juggling balls remained firmly in the air, she sent feelers of talent drifting down through the station, marking the humans and peeking at the diagram for reference. That was a safe containment area, plenty of people. That was a team of security. Medical, residential, holding, three more safe areas loaded with crew…nothing. She frowned and pulled her talent back, starting over.
"Nothing obvious," she told her audience. "No one totally isolated or in an odd place. Trying again, looking closer."
Scanning again, she stiffened and double checked against the diagram. "There’s someone outside that safe area," she said crisply, pointing to it on the ghostly station framework. "Wait—two, three…oh, hell. People are breaching containment." She sighed in frustration and worry.
"Pete, get Mick down there to herd ‘em back in," Declan snapped. "Tell him to explain that we’ve got a hunt going on. Matter of fact, do a station wide. Explain we’re hunting a traitor and everybody needs to stay put."
"Better late than never, dear," Regina said dryly, folding her arms across her ample chest and leveling her blue gaze on her son.
Instead of being aggravated, he threw her an impish glance that made Ryelle want to grin. "You know you’re proud."
"Declan, if he’s in residential quarters, I won’t be able to pinpoint him," Ryelle cautioned, tracking the movements of the escaping crew.
He nodded and turned to face the room. "Pete, add termination of general quarters. Everybody to safe containment. Let’s empty all areas, even medical if we can. I want everybody out in the open, where they can be seen. Flash Ventura’s still on all com units. I want all eyes searching for that bastard. Flush him out."
There was a flurry of activity as his people scrambled to fulfill his orders as a team. No one waited for Pete to direct them—they all seemed to know what they should be doing. Ryelle smiled, impressed by their seamless competence and proud of Declan for what he had accomplished here and how he was handling the situation.
Then she winced, as one of the bombs in her telenetic grip detonated. Tightening her hold on the destructive force struggling for release, she sighed over the loss of evidence and allowed a small hole in her barrier to let off the pressure. She imagined it whistling like a tea kettle.
"Declan, one of the contained bombs just went off. No damage. Has anyone found any others?"
"No, Mem," Asha responded in a subdued voice, her young face pinched. "I’ll keep working on it, just in case."
"Thank you, Asha," Ryelle said with a twinge of sympathy for the girl. The responsibility was huge, using a makeshift bomb detector to find explosives before som
eone else died.
Ryelle chewed on her lip, wondering if she should run a full scan of the station, end to end, for explosives. She could recognize explosive elements, but wasn’t sure she’d know the difference between the stuff used in the normal workings of the station and a bomb. Plus that delicate a scan would take her attention and concentration away from everything else she was focusing on. She didn’t think she could risk it. What if the children decided to take advantage of her distraction?
She decided that she’d much rather find Ventura and get the detonator out of his murderous hands. Shifting restlessly, she quelled the need to pace as she monitored the round up of the station residents. It was slow going—these people weren’t used to dealing with situations like this and though they were supposed to have regular emergency drills, Ryelle knew that panic and fear could confuse even the most logical mind. She tried to remind herself that these were just civilians, but she chaffed at the delay, sifting through the moving masses with restless tendrils of her talent. She could tell the male from the female, but that was the most specific she could get…wait.
"Declan," she said sharply. "We’ve got someone going the opposite direction. There." She pointed out the location on the station diagram.
He barked out orders, contacting Mick and setting security scurrying in that direction. They waited in tense silence as the chase began. Ryelle followed the hunt, urging the guards on and keeping track of their target.
"They have him," she announced with a surge of triumph, a moment before Mick’s face reappeared.
"Sorry, boss. Not Ventura. Just a guy looking for his wife. They got separated."
Ryelle snarled a curse under her breath, tangling her fingers in her hair and tightening them into fists. She felt a slight tug at her shirt and glanced down to see Jack staring up at her, little face solemn.
"Can we help?" he whispered.
There was a melting sensation around her heart and Ryelle was hard pressed not to fold him close. Instead, she let go of her hair and held out a hand to him with a gentle smile. He hesitated, staring at her hand for a moment, before he lifted his and slowly settled it into her palm. She closed her fingers in a light clasp, amazed by how small and fragile his little bones felt.
"You are very sweet to offer, but no. It’s not a matter of power, but differentiation." When Jake’s brow creased in puzzlement, she added, "The person we’re looking for is a human male. There are lots of human males on this station."
"Oh," he said, lowering his chin. But he didn’t pull away from her, even when Rose hissed his name in aggravated demand. "But you’ll find him?" the little boy added after a pause, tipping his face back up. "You’ll stop him?"
"I will. Security and I will keep looking until we find him. It’s just a matter of time."
"All right," he responded with a little nod then leaned against her hip with a heavy sigh.
Ryelle felt a burst of warm concern sweep through her, realizing that the children must be exhausted. They’d had a very long day, starting with their draining battle against her, followed by their capture and subsequent interrogation, plus the telenetic pizza training. All without a murmur of protest. Wincing at her inconsideration, she gently took the pizza from Daniel’s telenetic hold and commandeered a short bench from an unused area of main ops. Zipping the bench over their heads, she carefully settled it next to the children while plopping the pizza on an open space at Pete’s work station.
"I’m sorry," she told them, looking at each in turn with a contrite frown. "You must be so tired. You’re so strong, I didn’t really consider how much you’ve been doing."
Daniel lifted his chin. "But you’re not tired."
"I’m…much stronger. And I’ve had a bit more practice than you. Please, sit. As soon as this is over, I’ll find somewhere for you to rest."
She was gratified to see both Rose and Daniel settle slowly on the bench, though Jake didn’t move to join them. He was staring out over the holo-suite with the slack look of a child at the end of his energy, little body slumped against her. When she asked if he wanted to sit with the other two, he just shook his head dreamily, a far away cast to his midnight eyes. She let go of his hand to put her arm around him in support and lifted her head to see Declan watching her with a bemused look.
For some reason, she felt a blush tingle on her cheeks at his regard.
"Any more strays?" he asked quietly.
Hastily, Ryelle returned her attention to the station diagram and her search for the odd man out. While she’d been focused on the children, most of the residents had made it to the safe areas. She could see small clusters here and there, outside several of the areas, where people were still working their way in. She ran another scan, hunting for an isolated human. Nothing.
With a hiss of frustration, she sent tendrils around main ops, the service and admin areas above and around them, testing each hidden corner while doing her best not to touch Declan. Still nothing.
"All right," she clipped, pointing to the holographic diagram, "are we sure each of those dots is security?"
"Yes," Sven answered with utter confidence.
She gave a curt nod. "Fine. Round up all the security, too. I want everybody to see everybody else. I’m missing him. He’s hiding somewhere obvious. Ask people to look for someone disguised. Maybe he’s wearing a hat or something."
While the crew relayed her command, she began analyzing the safe areas, feeling each carefully and comparing them to the diagram. "Can somebody get me an exact count of people in each containment area?" She wasn’t sure what good that would do, but maybe he was hiding in plain sight, in a storage unit or closet in a safe area, so that she’d see him within the containment, but no one else would.
"Counts will be slow. There are a lot of excited people down there."
Muttering curses under her breath, she moved from one group of people to the next as she waited for someone to get a count, running frustrated tendrils through the bodies in the hopes of getting some clue to their identities. "He’s there, I know he is, the sneaky rat—" She hesitated, scanned again, and checked the diagram. "Where is the guard that’s with the supply ship crew?"
"Where?" Pete asked in confusion, not understanding the apparently self-answering question.
"Is he inside the holding area or outside?" She could see the answer on the diagram, but wanted confirmation, before she started another goose chase. Her heart had begun to pound, thumping out an urgent beat in her chest.
"He’s inside."
"Got him," she hissed through clenched teeth. "He’s hiding just outside the holding area for the supply crew. Must have figured you all would look everywhere else but where he started. Tell security I’m holding him down for them."
She’d barely got the words out of her mouth when Declan stalked past her out the door, his face a rigid mask of fury. "Declan—!" She started after him then hesitated, looking at the child resting against her. "Ah, damn," she sighed.
"I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid," Regina said in a tone that suggested it wasn’t a new concept for her, following her son with long, fluid strides.
Urging Jake over to the bench, she eased him down next to Rose and sat on his other side, smiling when he promptly leaned into her again, snuggling against her. Ryelle wrapped an arm around him, watching Rose give the little boy a quick frown of disapproval. But her fingers were moving restlessly in her lap. Ryelle turned her hand over, offering her open palm to Rose. The girl stared at it for so long that Ryelle smothered a chuckle.
Then, very slowly and gingerly, Rose reached out and laid her delicate fingers across Ryelle’s. She continued to stare, with a mix of suspicion and wonder, as Ryelle folded her hand around the girl’s. She felt even more delicate than Jake, a feminine little bird with enough power to destroy Ryelle’s civilization. She raised wide eyes to Ryelle, lips quivering with a slight tremor.
"Thank you for your trust, Rose," Ryelle whispered.
Rose dropped her c
hin without answering, eyes furtively watching their clasped hands as she gradually relaxed.
Ryelle sighed, blinking away tears and looking out over the room, waiting for Declan to reach his target.
Chapter 21
Declan wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable. The man was a criminal, a murderer who had hurt his people and tried to kill the woman he loved. He ignored his mother’s muttered cautions and planned the man’s death in exact, bloody detail.
When he reached Ventura’s location, he found a group of security personnel, milling around in the short side corridor next to the holding area. "What are you doing?" Declan asked, scowling at the aimless looking bunch.
"Sir, we can’t budge him."
"Why the hell not?" he snarled, pushing past them to see for himself.
The pilot crouched against the wall, one hand fisted on his thigh and the other frozen half-way to his face. His eyes were wild and rolling in his immobile face, breath sawing in and out of his nose. Helpless, caught in Ryelle’s secure telenetic grip.
The sight didn’t deter Declan’s bloodlust. Goaded past control by the knowledge that this skinny little piece of shit had nearly destroyed everything he loved, Declan lunged for him, only to plunge into the rush of Ryelle’s power. Rage and lust were not a comfortable mix and he jerked back with a curse.
"Ryelle, let him loose," he growled, looking down into the man’s terrified eyes with violence thrumming along his muscles in a dark, wild current.
"So you can beat him bloody?" Ryelle’s voice responded in his ear in a mildly caustic tone. "Gee, that’s productive. How about instead you take the detonator from him, so he can’t blow anything else up while you’re smashing his head in."
A thrill of alarm eased some of his anger, letting him think more clearly. "Where is it?"
"Left hand." As she spoke, Ventura’s left arm began to lift and stretch out toward Declan in slow motion. The man’s horror-glazed eyes watched his limb, a whimpering sound coming from behind his closed lips. His closed fist turned over and the fingers parted. On his palm lay a small controller.
No Such Thing Page 29
