Operation Hydra (Beyond Ontariese 2)

by Cyndi Friberg

  She sat adjacent to the hatch, watching him closely. Activating the tiny device wrapped around his ear, he spoke in a rapid, angry litany that made her insides tighten. He paused. He paced. He talked some more. She couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation or understand his language but he was furious, that much was clear.

  Okay, Krysta, think. When did he get angry? Her eyes. This all had something to do with her eyes. It made no sense. He tore the device from his ear and flung it across the cabin with what she suspected was an Ontarian curse.

  “If I don’t return you to The Center, will Hydran really kill your sister?”

  What should she tell him? Why would he care now when…

  “Answer me honestly.” His tone brooked no refusal.

  “Perhaps not Belle but he would harm others without hesitation or remorse.” She stood and faced him. “He tortures children to motivate their mothers and—”

  “What will he do to you if I take you back?”

  “Why is it suddenly if? There was never a question of my returning before. What’s going on? Why are you angry? What did I do?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Or what?” Fear drove her on, making her reckless. “You’ll start another round of your favorite game? Who are you? If you’re a businessman, I’m the Intercontinental president.”

  He grabbed her suddenly, his warm hand cupping her bare breast. Krysta gasped and tried to twist away but his other arm banded her waist. “Is this what you want? You want my hands on your body, don’t you? You provoke me so I’ll touch you.”

  Krysta found it hard to swallow past the dryness in her throat. His hand seared her skin. Was he right? Did she continue to be difficult so he would touch her? Even now she could feel her nipple tightening against his palm, tingling as it hardened. Her lips trembled and she closed her eyes.

  “It’s natural, Krysta.”

  She wanted to believe that so badly. He pulled his hand away and she bit her lip to keep from whimpering. No, pull open the jacket. Touch me more!

  “Look at me,” he coaxed.

  That was the last thing she wanted to do. He would see how badly she wanted him and laugh at her weakness.

  “Look at me.” It was a command. Quickly mustering her defiance, she opened her eyes.

  “I want nothing more than to take the next lunar cycle and explore every sexual fantasy you’ve ever had but I have to return to my ship. You know Hydran better than I do. Will taking you with me create more danger for Belle and the other occupants or is it safer to return you?”

  Speak the words and you’ll never have to face Hydran again. She trembled. Temptation washed over her. Oh, to be safe, to be cared for. Dragging her hair over her shoulders, she sadly shook her head. “I can’t desert them. Take me back.”

  * * *

  Trey stared out the wide viewport, failing to find comfort in the velvety blackness of space. Even the alien constellations lacked their usual appeal. Tonight they were just stars. As near as the Mystics could determine, there were two hundred and fourteen Ontarians being held prisoner by Operation Hydran. How could this have happened?

  He’d been honored when his brother’s wife Charlotte asked him to lead the rescue mission. The information she’d supplied had been sketchy at best, but he’d found The Center and managed to infiltrate Operation Hydra. No easy task under the circumstances. But the scope of the mission had just exploded. Simple logistics doomed him to failure. His ship wasn’t big enough for two hundred refugees.

  The buzzer announced Vee’s return. Trey told the door to open. The Mystic entered the room, his movements so graceful he seemed to float. His ankle-length white hair had looped itself loosely around his neck twice and twisted into an intricate knot.

  “What did she say?” Trey asked.

  An interdimensional portal was needed to communicate with Ontariese so Trey had no choice but to depend on one of the two Mystics who had temporarily joined his crew.

  “She is not coming,” Vee said with his characteristic directness.

  “What?” The word exploded from Trey. “Hydran is breeding his own colony of Ontarians for a purpose we can scarcely imagine. How can the High Queen not respond to this crisis?”

  “You misunderstand. Shar Lott has every intention of responding. But in six passings of the moons, you shall be an uncle for the fourth time. Your brother has forbidden her to attempt an interdimensional journey. Her assistance shall be provided from Ontariese.”

  Trey thought of the life Tal was building with Charlotte, feeling more than a little envious of their happiness. He pictured Charlotte’s understated beauty, his twin nieces and rambunctious nephew. Tal was right to protect them. If he had a life mate who was with child, he would do everything in his power to keep her safe.

  “Fine,” Trey grumbled.

  “Your father has offered to—”

  “No!” Trey said so vehemently they both laughed.

  Much to the relief of many of the new Joint High Council members, Prefect Roe dar Aune had retired two cycles before. Trey loved his father and tried hard to respect him, but Roe’s inflexibility made him a hard man to like.

  “So we’re on our own?” Trey asked thoughtfully.

  “I sent the information we have compiled to the Symposium. They will analyze it and have suggestions waiting upon my next transmission.”

  “How did this happen?” Trey stomped back to the viewport. “Only three Ontarians were sent through the portal to this location and that was less than one hundred cycles ago. How can there be so many?”

  “I do not know.”

  Four very frightening words coming from Vee. Trey traveled extensively and Vee, through his connection with the Symposium, had compiled a broader scope of knowledge than anyone Trey had ever encountered.

  “How do we find out?”

  Vee inclined his head. “A far better question.”

  “Why don’t you and Gerr just zap us inside, I’ll strangle Hydran and then—”

  “You have been trained as a diplomat, Trey dar Aune.” There was an edge to Vee’s reminder. “Do you really want to start a war?”

  “Yes!”

  Again Vee inclined his head but Trey suspected he was hiding the amusement in his emerald-green eyes.

  “Energy patterns of those with Mystic abilities—”

  “Differ from those without,” Trey finished for him. “Yes, I know. That’s why I’m playing games with Dr. Hydran. He can’t prove I’m anything other than what I say, and each time I torment Krysta, he’ll be all the more convinced.”

  “You have not actually harmed this young woman, have you?”

  Insulted by his doubt, Trey crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “Would you ask my brother that question?”

  Vee was Tal’s mentor. Another relationship Trey envied. But in this case, it was only the closeness for which Trey longed. He found Vee arrogant and myopic.

  “Tal is a Master-level Mage.”

  “And I’m not even a Mystic.” Trey rolled his eyes. Add condescending to the list. “So you’re proposing we just continue on? That I use my guise as Mr. Darrin to leech information from Hydran.”

  “You will learn nothing useful from Dr. Hydran.”

  “Then I need to devise reasons to spend more time with Krysta.”

  Vee shot him a knowing look. “Have you been successful in convincing her you are a lecherous explorer?”

  He had fallen into the role a bit too easily for his conscience to accept. He ached for her still and felt guilty as hell. “She is utterly convinced I’m a lustful bastard.”

  * * *

  Standing in the middle of one of the observation rooms, Krysta stared straight ahead, refusing to speak. The guard on duty in the lobby escorted her to the room and went to fetch Dr. Hydran. She hadn’t been allowed to change her clothes or see Belle, but a quick pulse assured her that her sister slept comfortably, unaware of Krysta’s return.

  Hydran circled her slow
ly, like the shark he was, assessing her minor scrapes and obvious disarray. “Did he hurt you?” he asked.

  Hoping? She didn’t speak the word. This was a game. A game she’d tired of long ago.

  “Did you enjoy his tender ministrations? He’s more intense than the Companion, wouldn’t you agree?”

  She arched her eyebrow but bit back a sarcastic retort.

  “So what did you think of his proposal?”

  If she continued to ignore him, he’d hit her or worse. Thanks to Trey Darrin’s example, Hydran had new tools at his disposal. Hydran hadn’t brought his bodyguards so she doubted he intended to take that route, but Belle’s illness was still untreated.

  “He expects to take me off-world and leave Belle at your mercy. He just met me today, but surely you know me better than that.”

  “What I know, Krysta, is you are going to cooperate with Mr. Darrin. Even if I have to see to it myself.”

  His threat made her stomach cramp. What was the connection? “Is he that rich? What is he offering you and why me? I’m not the only healer.”

  “No, but you’re the best and we both know it.”

  Krysta quickly averted her gaze. If Hydran only knew! “May I go to my sister now?”

  “Why did he bring you back so soon? I told him he could have you for the whole night.”

  “I was distracted.” Damn him. Why did he always push her until she lost control? He continually reduced her to a snarling, clawing animal and she hated it.

  “Was he upset? Did he seem—”

  “He said he’d be back in the morning. Why don’t you ask him?” She stared into his eyes, determined not to glare. “I did what I was told. I want to see Belle.”

  She thought he would say more but he summoned an orderly. Walking a step behind, Krysta didn’t speak. Why was Hydran so eager to please Trey?

  That flash of character she’d seen in the shuttle had been the real Trey, she was sure of it. He wasn’t the man he pretended to be when he was around Dr. Hydran. She couldn’t imagine what he gained from the masquerade but Trey Darrin was a fake. The orderly scanned open the door to ward B and Krysta went immediately to her sister’s room. She called out to Belle telepathically as the privacy panel slid aside.

  “Are you all right?” Belle asked.

  Krysta sat on the edge of the narrow bed and smiled. “I was about to ask you that.”

  “You look horrible.”

  There was hardly enough light in the small room to see anything. Belle was referring to the intangible part that only Belle could sense. “It’s been a rough day.”

  Belle smiled. “Well, you heal me. Then we’ll figure out what to do about your gloom.”

  Krysta nodded and turned her concentration inward. She gathered energy into the center of her chest and gradually released it through her hands. Her fingers hovered over her twin, skimming, moving, but never actually touching.

  As with the little girl that morning, Krysta meticulously cleansed her sister, searching, stubbornly seeking. The vision erupted out of nowhere, trapping Krysta within its vivid world. She tried to fight it, conceal the onset as part of the healing.

  He couldn’t find out! After all these years, Hydran couldn’t find out. Her hands trembled and she moaned, rocking back onto her heels. Abruptly she broke contact with Belle, hoping the jarring withdrawal would alert her sister to the problem. Belle stumbled out of bed and pulled Krysta to her feet.

  No! Get the elders! Krysta couldn’t tell if Belle understood. She could no longer see her or sense her. She was consumed entirely by the vision. The tiled floor heaved and bucked as if buffeted by some unseen force. She gasped and spread her arms, bracing with her legs, trying to balance. A deep rumbling built until the room echoed with the inhuman sound. Frantically searching for a foothold or retreat, she saw only swirling colors and an endless void.

  As if torn by ruthless fists, the floor parted, revealing a raging sea. Transfixed, Krysta stared into the murky waters. Something moved about beneath the tossing waves. A dark, bulky figure dipped and dived then shot from the water with a mighty roar.

  Krysta screamed and raised her hands, instinctively shielding herself from the monster. Gray-green scales glistened along the serpent’s body, but each of its nine heads was a grotesque combination of reptile and human. It lunged. Krysta screamed again, staggering back while it hissed and spat.

  She felt hands shaking her and voices calling from far away. The vision wouldn’t release. The serpent roared, the sound different now, sad, filled with pain and disappointment. A ridge formed down the center of its long, undulating throat, becoming more pronounced, higher and wider.

  The pointed tip of a sword slid out from inside the serpent, splitting the ridge open from the top down. A man appeared in the hideous gap, his features concealed in shadow, his sword raised in triumph. With one last anguished roar, the huge creature sank into the sea, leaving only the man.

  He stood suspended above the water, the waves splashing against his legs. His right hand held the sword and he extended his left toward Krysta. For just a moment the shadows cleared and she saw his face. Krysta felt her heart leap, pounding painfully against her ribs. How could this be? What did it mean?

  Her head spun. The image receded. She struggled to reclaim the vision but her legs gave out beneath her. Unseen hands lowered her to the floor while her voice rang out strong and clear.

  The serpent will split from the inside out.

  The Hydra will fall. There is no doubt.

  When the Hero at last sets aside his disguise,

  The time’s drawing near—turn your eyes to the skies.

  The swirling scene faded and Krysta surrendered to the darkness.

  * * *

  Trey briefed his officers before he returned to The Center the next morning.

  “You can’t use Mystic abilities of any kind until we’re ready for the final offensive,” he explained. Vee and Mage Gerr inclined their heads in unison and Trey chuckled. Dark, brooding Gerr was the perfect contrast to Vee’s ethereal grace.

  Trey turned to Dro Tar. He had recruited her for a special assignment fourteen cycles past. Her sharp wit and creative thinking had so impressed him that he put in a royal order requisitioning her services upon graduation from the City of Tears. Her temperament and personality were totally incompatible—and wasted—in military service. Trey just couldn’t allow it to happen. Cyrus, the Ontarian overlord, granted the request and Dro Tar had served him faithfully if unconventionally ever since.

  She refused to wear anything resembling a uniform, her quarters were lavishly decorated according to her mood and her fascination with all things Earthish now bordered on obsession. But Trey enjoyed her company and trusted her abilities. Today’s “uniform” was a pair of faded blue jeans and a T-shirt sporting the slogan We’ll get along just fine as soon as you agree to worship me.

  Her head of shaggy, gold-tipped brown hair bobbed rhythmically and her fingers tapped against the edge of the table. Apparently her audiocom was programmed for music—again. Something rather rambunctious if her body language were any indication.

  “High Queen Aune is using the flawless performance of this ship to pressure Lord Cyrus into releasing the prototype ahead of schedule.” As he spoke, Trey activated his control grid and found the channel Dro Tar was using. He spiked her volume and watched her dance.

  “What the…” She shook her head, jerked the audiocom out of her ear and threw it on the table, scowling furiously.

  “Pay attention,” Trey scolded.

  She stuck her finger in her ear and wiggled it then shook her head again. “I’m too poor to pay attention.”

  “I have plans for you, but I need to get the others briefed before I can fill you in so behave yourself.”

  “Yes sir.” Her brownish-green eyes swirled with amusement. She appeared anything but cowed.

  Al Varellien, Trey’s communications specialist, brought them back to the subject at hand. “Lord Cyrus is consi
dering releasing the prototype?”

  “Yes,” Vee said. “Her Majesty reports that the overlord is willing to supply whatever military support we deem necessary.”

  Trey leaned forward, folding his arms on the conference table. “You said nothing of the sort to me.”

  “Her Majesty thought it best that the overlord’s offer be presented to the officers en masse and we as a group decide if and when military action be taken,” Vee explained.

  With his eyes fixed squarely on Vee, Trey said to the others, “Take five.”

  Even Dro Tar didn’t hesitate.

  Pushing back his chair with a violent kick, Trey moved to stand across from Vee. Touching the tabletop with just his fingertips, he leaned toward the Mystic. “Never try to undermine me again.” He let the order hang in the air for a moment. “I’m infuriated by what’s going on at The Center, but I’m not a fool. Do you honestly imagine I’ll go in, weapons blazing, and attempt to single-handedly liberate the entire facility?”

  Vee didn’t speak but one corner of his mouth twitched and his emerald eyes glowed subtly.

  Trey wanted to knock some sense into him but that would only play into his misconceptions. “You’ve listened to my brother’s wild stories for too many cycles. I tend to take a more direct approach than Tal but—”

  “Like when you blew up the munitions plant even though the council forbade the action?”

  “The entire complex was being refitted for new, more powerful weapons. I told the council it was an opportunity we couldn’t ignore. We rounded up the machinists, blew the place halfway to the night moon and not one Ontarian lost their life.”

  “But you disregarded direct orders—”

  “You are going to give me a lesson in obedience? You stood beside Charlotte as she faced off with my father and all but dismantled the sacred traditions.”

  “You also supported her proposal that day, Trey dar Aune,” Vee reminded him.

  “Why are you here?” He straightened and folded his arms over his chest.