There wasn’t a governing body, per se, but a few soldiers here and there. Cricket reached out for Darryl’s hand and a rush of warmth spread through her. Instantly she felt safer.
Following the illuminated signs, Cricket and Darryl wound through what seemed like endless tunnels and entrance spheres until they burst through the end of a narrow hallway. After climbing through yet another circular tube, they emptied out into a commons area. All around panels with gravity boots lined the walls. The EPSS turned off gravity for fourteen hours a day to conserve energy and to perform maintenance.
“What time is it onboard the station?” Cricket asked, not wanting to spend any time in zero gravity. Unless Darryl could be wrapped around her.
“It’s only noon. Why?” he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder. “It’s dark often here, so I know it’s difficult to tell.”
“Just wondering if I needed a pair of anti-gravity boots,” she replied.
Their conversations had been like this for days -- comfortable and totally about nothing of real importance. She knew he wanted to keep her from worrying. Mars, I can’t believe I’m falling for him.
Her practical voice cooed, You’ve already fallen, dear.
“Where do you wanna go?” he asked, tugging her arm so she ended up closer to him.
“Observation deck for some coffee,” she said, squeezing his arm to her torso.
“You could’ve done this onboard The Inquiry.”
“Yes, but I had to get out of those stuffy small closets you call quarters. I need air,” she said, and swept a hand toward the gigantic view. “And space.”
“All right,” he said, grinning down at her.
But his eyes, those beautiful, soulful eyes, were distant. Something had happened, but he hadn’t spoken to her about it.
They walked through a tiny corridor. “Here’s the place,” Darryl said at last and he squeezed her hand. “Coffee, three sugars and two tablespoons of cream, right?”
“Yes,” she said, pleased he remembered.
Cricket climbed the spiraling staircase up to the space station observation deck. Through one of the many large rectangular windows, she spied glimpses of space, stars, and ships. They drifted by in complete indifference to her plight. Below the deck, people sat in chairs, at tables, and lying about the carpeted floor. The recreation spot for the EPSS and its visitors, the observation deck held a lower section filled with pool tables, video games, virtual reality tubes, and treadmills. Noises filtered from these activities up to the upper sections of the deck where watching the stars took priority.
Cricket only wanted one thing -- answers. And Darryl. Okay, two things.
Cricket inhaled the rich aroma of coffee from the drinking booth, but the spectacular view held her fast. Searching the glittering darkness, she tried to puzzle out why Wang found Ganor so desirable.
“Here you are.” Darryl’s rumbling voice stroked her, caressing her body like smooth silk.
She twisted toward his direction and took the steaming java into her hands. Sipping and watching, she leaned over the railing and said, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course,” he said, but it sounded forced. For once, he didn’t meet her eyes.
“Darryl, look at me,” she said.
He glanced down at her and said, “You’re exposed here. I have to keep you safe. As lovely as you are, baby, I have to watch.”
She understood that and nodded. Maybe coming on board wasn’t such a great idea. She simply wanted to be out of the crammed spaces of her quarters and away from the unanswered questions and grief. Sipping more of her coffee, she didn’t want to talk about that to Darryl. Already he spent his free time in her quarters, loving her, talking to her, acting as her sounding board. Three blissful days had swept by and now they had only two days until The Inquiry docked at Mars Outpost 1 and she went to be interrogated.
“Cricket,” he called.
She spun from the view of the enormous space outside the station to him. “Yes?”
“You understand? I can’t have anything happen to you,” he confessed, eyes warm. “And not just because Commander Taylor said I had to keep you safe.”
The air thickened around them, and she stepped closer to him, drawn like a thirsty man to water. She continued until his hand shot out to stop her.
“Stop.” He tore his eyes from her and he guided her to a position behind him.
Below them a rustling grew louder from the low murmur of dozens of conversations.
“We’ve got trouble,” he said, all hints of warmth and love gone.
At the commons entrance was a trio of men, dressed in ragtag outfits and scarves. Tattoos covered all visible flesh, including their faces. They weren’t IGO officers or soldiers, nor were they scientists. These were bandits, outlaws, or worse, traders. Traders stole, plundered, and robbed, sometimes killing in the process. Those tattoos would tell anyone who saw them who and what they were.
How had they gotten on board the EPSS without some escort?
“Traders,” Darryl said, frowning, lips a slash of irritation.
Cricket swallowed her terror to keep it from riding up from her sickened stomach.
Chapter 11
Darryl’s face hardened into savageness so fierce Cricket stepped back a few paces from him. Not that he’d harm her. She knew he wouldn’t. Didn’t she?
He gave her a smile and a wink to try to put her at ease. But matters had to be dealt with and none of it was pleasant. He pressed the button on his earpiece and sent a comm to The Inquiry. JC Lee’s whiny drawl crackled through.
Keeping his eyes on Cricket, Darryl sighed. “Where’s Commander Taylor?” he asked, not liking the fact it was Lee on the other end of the comm. No, he didn’t like it at all. Nor did his instincts. His stomach crawled as if hundreds of bugs scattered about at the irritated whine in Lee’s voice.
“Taylor’s busy.”
The commander was never busy when Darryl and three-quarters of the crew were not on the ship. He always answered Darryl’s comms -- asleep or awake, day or night. His and Commander Taylor’s relationship surpassed professional. The man was his mentor and father figure. Kovacs and the rest of the crew except Rojas and Lee had come on to the EPSS. No doubt some had already returned to the ship, eager to partake of their recent purchases. So, where was the good commander?
“The commander said he’d stay behind. So where is he?” Darryl inquired, a warning covering every syllable.
Lee failed to heed it. “Maybe your chickenshit ass should’ve stayed onboard and then you’d know,” barked Lee in return, a burst of fury from his end. Showing Darryl his uninhibited hatred only forced Darryl to clench his jaw tighter.
“Contact EPSS security. There’s a problem in commons five,” Darryl said, blowing his anger through his nostrils. “There’s a big threat to Dr. Moore’s safety here.”
“A problem?” Lee questioned. “You are a threat, Snow. Screw off!”
“Lee! Listen to me!” Darryl snarled, voice dangerously close to venom. “The doctor is in trouble. Send security down to commons five. Now!”
“Too bad for you then,” Lee replied coolly. “Once she’s dead, you’ll be demoted off my ship.”
Bastard! He’s more worried about his career than Cricket’s life. Idiot! It wasn’t Lee’s ship, but Commander Taylor’s. But if he was already laying claim to command, then…
“Lee! Don’t do this!” he roared. Static erupted, drowning out his words. “Lee!” His fury spilled over his usual cool. “Damn it!”
Cricket’s eyes were large pools of honey laced with fear when he faced her, hands in fists. “What happened? What did he say?” she asked so softly he didn’t think he’d heard her at first. She caressed his arm as if trying to soothe the annoyance out of him.
He avoided her gaze, but almost instantly he relaxed. His hand unfolded like a flower -- slowly. He sought out her hand. Touching her flesh would force the tide of stress and angst to recede. Somehow he knew th
is, and yet when it happened, it surprised him still.
“The comm went dead,” he said, opting to leave the details until later. “We need to get down from here and back to the ship. Without delay, Cricket. You understand?”
Worrying her wouldn’t make this any easier. The throng of traders threaded their way through the area knocking over cups, people and chairs. The brood of bad guys resembled the other visitors on the EPSS, except they sported rugged, unclean beards, long stringy hair, tattoos, and cruel menacing expressions. They looked the way they were meant to -- evil, threatening. They wanted to provoke individuals until one pounced, and then all chaos would erupt, hiding the bandits’ true purpose -- stealing. The credit cards would be plucked with cool calculated precision.
“Time to move,” he whispered to Cricket.
She squeezed his hand in reply. “It sure is.”
He led her down the steel winding staircase, not hesitating as he negotiated the narrow space. He wanted to have his hands free to defend her. But he also wanted to make sure she didn’t get sucked up by the crowd. Even now, the tremors of her hands made him tighten his hold.
Shouts of violence snatched his attention. A civilian fell to the floor in a crash of falling chairs, cards and cans. The traders’ guffaws echoed with boisterous vigor, but no one else’s did. Several others helped up the portly man and hurried from the commons area with nervous looks backward. A thunderous shift of dozens of chairs ripped apart the heady silence following the incident. A mob rushed the exit doors.
“Cricket, I’m going to let go, but I need you to stay close to me.”
“Got it.”
Good.
They continued to descend the staircase, but already Darryl visually plotted a course for their escape. With luck, they’d circumvent the traders, but Darryl doubted it. The men had failed to rob anyone yet, and the strong feeling that they hadn’t come for money resonated in Darryl’s head.
No. They’d definitely come for Cricket.
* * *
Darryl’s large loving hand dropped to his gun.
Cricket knew those hands incited love and sizzling desire in her body and heart, but she also understood that those same hands were capable of wielding terrible violence. She mentally flashed back to his beautiful but partially marred body. It bore evidence of true aggression. The flying debris must’ve sliced through his uniform and his undershirt. The uniform decreased some of the shards’ momentum, but not all.
Cricket winced at the memory of his speckled torso and how she longed to reach out her palm and wipe off the hurt, the pain, the lingering effects of that attack from not only his flesh, but his mind. She loved him, but the impact of those painful reminders remained for him. An urge to rush to him and hold him closer erupted, but she battled it back -- for now. The reality remained clear -- he was an IGO soldier.
I should hold him now. This outing may be our last. I don’t know when circumstance will steal him from me. Darryl could become extremely physical. She was glad he was on her side. “Do what you gotta do,” she said as he continued circling down the steps.
He glanced over that marred shoulder and nodded. “Always.”
Once they reached the floor, the traders shoved through people creating a violent path which led directly to Darryl and Cricket.
The first trader’s gaze followed them. Each time she checked their proximity to her, she found him meeting her eyes with unyielding intent. Leering, he blew her several kisses and a few winks. With her suspicion confirmed, Cricket bit her lip.
They’re targeting me. Why?
Chapter 12
“Get back!” Darryl roared, his chest heaving against his rising fury. How dare they even attempt to come at him? No one was getting near Cricket. “She’s under IGO protection!”
The first of the three traders stepped forward, smirking with uncontrolled malice. Greasy black hair hung limp on either side of his square face. A jagged scar snaked from his mouth to his ear as if someone had taken a blade and tried to extend that cold grin literally from ear to ear. Glistening green eyes stuck out from the fall of untidy hair. His eyes fell on Darryl and the bastard’s grin broadened.
Darryl brandished his laser gun, its scarlet eye ready and bright, fully charged. The other men exchanged glances before displaying their own hardware with gusto. He was faintly aware of people shifting out of the commons area, fleeing for the exits. An exodus rippled with heady murmurs across the air. Their fear pushed against him, and his anger shoved it back.
No bags, packs, or other of the traders’ usual carrying devices were in evidence. Usually the traders carried one or all to stow their loot and ill gotten credits. These three had none of those.
They hadn’t come to pillage or steal from tourists and unsuspecting soldiers. They had come for her.
“Three to one. Your odds ain’t so great, soldier,” the dark-haired one spat. His drawl hinted of Earth Prime, not the educated speech of outposts. Earth was a pathetic little planet, and the siring ground for humanity. But the entire planet was a waste.
“Send over that sweet honeypot there and all will go well for you,” the trader said. “Now.”
Surely this scrap of poor DNA stock doesn’t think I’ll give her up that easily. “The penal colony on Titan isn’t fun,” Darryl warned, his finger twitching against the trigger.
Cricket set her fighting stance, ready to hop into the fray. She peered at them, and her eyebrows bent down. Angry. That’s my girl. Get pissed. From experience he knew that rage blew fear out of the water. His own annoyance increased.
“Penal colony?” the dirty thief sniggered as if it was all a big joke. Scrawny and stupid -- a perfect combination for disaster.
His cronies joined in like back-up singers to a laugh track. They didn’t know what Darryl would do to protect the woman he loved from harm. Too bad for them.
Wow. Yes, I haven’t told her yet, but I do love her.
Darryl smiled to himself. Not only did he lust for her sizzling body, but he craved her love -- longed for it with every fiber of his being. The impulse to cradle that flame in his heart forever sometimes left him breathless.
Time to take care of this trash.
Before the idiots finished chuckling, Darryl fired three rapid shots, his hand a blur of pale flesh and black plastic. With surprise springing from face to face, the three would-be thieves collapsed to the floor.
“You didn’t --” Cricket asked, her hand gripping his arm. “Darryl?”
“No. They’re stunned.”
He heard the relief in her voice and suppressed the urge to ask her for details. He was a soldier. At some point he was going to have to kill, maim, and wound in the course of IGO life. How would the woman he loved be able to handle that?
I can’t think about that now. No distractions. “Come on,” he said.
He adjusted his stance, relaxing his legs and arms before stepping over the pile of traders. He walked to the EPSS docking bay with Cricket in tow. No doubt the security guards were on their way. Laser gun fire initiated an emergency signal at the EPSS central hub.
Every muscle in his body tensed as his footfalls bounded ever closer to the doors. Outside the commons area a horde thrashed about, vying for spots to squeeze through the small circular exit tunnels. Judging from the noise, the guards brought their own hardware to the dance. Someone screamed and thunderous shouts of “Move!” and “Security coming through!” was met with hostile and loud disgruntlement.
“Three of them,” Cricket said, her voice a rod of determination. “No more. They can’t know my identity. I’m not sure how far Wang’s reach extends.”
“Got it,” he said, before stowing his gun. He knew it.
The crowd created a safety nightmare. How best to keep her secure when smashed against scores of people? Any one of them could stab her, stun her, or snatch her from his loose hold on her hand.
Shunting those vile scenarios to the side, he walked quickly, putting distance between them and
the stunned thieves. He and Cricket merged into the thicket of people, burrowing further into the fray. Crammed with the others in the corridor, Darryl tried to look as innocent and as panicked.
“You think those men saw us?” Cricket asked, her hands crossed over her chest. Her warmth washed over him, a tidal wave of bodily heat.
Hugging herself made her look like the scores of others huddled outside the commons area. But he knew she wasn’t doing it to appear helpless, but to protect her upper body from possible attacks -- or groping. Visibly crying, some civilians were being comforted and others were fleeing through the corridor’s sphere.
Who could he trust? None of The Inquiry’s crewmembers or scientists stuck out from the horde of scared and sweaty faces. They must’ve headed to the market section to shop. Or they had already returned to the ship. This excursion wasn’t supposed to last more than a few hours.
“I dunno,” Darryl said with a sigh. He sorely wanted to lie, to spare her the terror he was certain was vibrating to her core, but he couldn’t. She had to know the truth of how desperate the situation had become. Cricket would accept nothing else. “But, they could’ve caught it on video or watched it on surveillance.”
She groaned. With a long look, Cricket let him pull her into his embrace. She needed holding and he wanted to hold her. Truth be known, he craved holding too. Who knew the next time he’d be able to do so.
He listened to the murmurings fall to nothing as the sound of footfalls came closer and stopped. At the end of one of the exit spheres, Darryl counted three guards popping through the circular entrance. Blocked up, no one had been able to leave via the other four exit spheres. They had been locked down once Darryl fired his laser gun. Now the guards had arrived. They would open the exits, but not before they’d gotten a handle on the situation.
“Sir,” shouted one of the guards, a woman dressed in a beige one-piece. “Have you seen anything odd?”
Darryl could feel her eyes drift over his face, stopping at his scar. The guard gave him a long, steady look, fist gripping her electromagnetic baton. The other two security personnel headed toward the agonizing groans of the three hoodlums inside the commons area.
IGO: Sudden Snow Page 8
