Operation Hydra (Beyond Ontariese 2)

by Cyndi Friberg

  “We don’t know what Vee was thinking,” Trey said softly. “But regardless, it doesn’t help us now.”

  Glistening with stubbornness and unshed tears, her gaze bore into his. “It can’t end like this. You vanquish the Hydra. I saw you!”

  “It’s not over, sweetheart. This is just—”

  “What kind of hero are you?” she yelled.

  She came at him swinging and Trey let her come. The anguish in her eyes hurt far worse than her fists. She called him names she shouldn’t know much less say out loud. She shoved him backward only to grab the front of his shirt, preventing his retreat.

  “He can’t win, Trey.” She sobbed, burying her face against his chest. “We can’t let him win.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, hating Hydran more with each of her ragged sobs. She was strong and incredibly brave. Hydran had no right to reduce her to tears. Resting his cheek against her hair, he indulged his imagination, devising creative ways to make Hydran pay for all the things he’d done.

  Stroking her back, Trey waited out her emotional deluge. It had been twenty-three years in the making. He wasn’t about to rush her. She clung to him, her slender body trembling. Drakkin paced near the door. Trey wasn’t sure if the intensity of Krysta’s emotions were upsetting him or if he was anxious to move on.

  “We need to get back to the Tempest, Krysta.” Trey eased her away, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe Al has found some trace of Hydran by now.”

  “Can I trash his office before we go?” She smiled through her tears.

  “Maybe later. You can come back with Dro Tar. That’d be right up her alley.”

  * * *

  Lyrik had assembled the officers from both the Tempest and the Gale in the planning hall when they arrived. Krysta stayed close beside Trey, silently slipping her hand into his.

  “Where is Dro Tar?” Her gaze moved around the predominantly male assembly.

  “She’s helping the occupants settle in. As well as being the only female crewmember, she’s one of only eleven who speaks Earthish.”

  Al stood beside Lyrik at the opposite end of the long table. They spoke rapidly in Ontarian but Trey couldn’t make out their words. Al was only slightly taller than Lyrik, but his gangly arms and thin body made him appear much taller.

  “Have you been able to track Hydran’s ship?” Trey asked in Earthish for Krysta’s benefit.

  “Why don’t we start with what we have been able to determine,” Lyrik suggested, the implication unmistakable.

  They took their seats and Al began the report. “This isn’t my field of expertise so I hope I can explain it adequately. If either of you have questions, I’ll translate to Dr. Benjanni.” He motioned to the man on his right. “As the women came on board, they were put through standard decontamination scans. While they were at it, the medical staff sampled and cataloged their DNA. The first group of women all share certain genetic indicators identifying them as close relatives, probably sisters. But there is a second group, the youngest twelve. They all have a separate set of genetic indicators. Is any of this significant to you?”

  “Would these combinations of indicators be consistent with children created from the same father but different mothers?” Trey asked then repeated the question in Ontarian for the doctor at Al’s side.

  “Yes sir. That would be quite likely,” Al translated.

  “Was Krysta scanned when she came on board?”

  Al looked uncomfortable but he nodded. “Yes sir. But her genetic indicators put her with the younger twelve.”

  “The second generation,” Krysta said thoughtfully. “Hydran was using the occupants as surrogates for my mother. This must have started with Joleen.”

  “Then there are fifteen occupants born of Krystabel?” Tapping his fingers on the tabletop, Trey did his best to concentrate. He wanted to jump in a shuttle and start combing the planet for Hydran, not unravel genetic indicators.

  “It would seem so,” Al responded.

  Suppressing her urge to overturn the table and scream at the top of her lungs, Krysta scrubbed one hand across her eyes. “Don’t you see what this means? Saebin is an enhanced child of Krystabel and so is Belle. He has two females and a male. Sound familiar?”

  Trey shifted in his chair beside her. “Were you able to find no trace of their departure?” he asked Al. “Was there any ship logged with the Space Authority?”

  “No sir. Not so much as a hovercraft. I had teams watching the surveillance records. The time stamp is unbroken unless he had this planned far enough in advance to doctor the records. I even cross-referenced the scanners for fuel emissions. Nothing. I don’t know how he left The Center. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Is it possible he’s still there?” Krysta asked.

  Trey shook his head. “I don’t see how. The entire center has been systematically searched and sealed off room by room. Maybe Hydran could be lurking in the shadows, eluding detection, but what about the others? Is Belle conscious? Can you sense Vee?”

  “Belle’s signal is unchanged.”

  “As is Vee’s,” Drakkin added. “You’ve mentioned another name. Who is Saebin? What are her abilities?”

  Krysta shuddered, remembering Reeva’s abused body and twisted mind. “Saebin can… I only know what she was able to do before she was given implants.”

  “We saw the vidfile of her taking Vee down.” Lyrik’s wide green eyes stared back at her with equal parts compassion and mistrust. “She shot a concentrated pulse directly out of her hand but Vee shifted through it. Then she paused. I’m not sure what she was doing, but she stretched out both hands and Vee just dropped like she’d—”

  “Turned him off?” Trey asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “This is all fascinating,” Krysta snapped. She could picture these men crowded around a vidscreen playing and replaying the incident. Laughing and joking, never seeing the person Saebin had been—no! The person Saebin was and would be again. “How does it help us catch Hydran?”

  “Who should stay and who should go?” Lyrik smiled.

  Krysta ignored the charm it added to his already handsome face, not ready to forgive him for his attitude regarding her friend.

  “You’ve got your hands full with the occupants, Lyrik,” Trey said. “Lord Drakkin, if you would agree to stay, I would be honored.”

  Drakkin inclined his head.

  “We already recharged your fuel cells,” Lyrik informed him. “I should probably see if Dro Tar will agree to help with the occupants. With your permission of course.” He shot Trey a knowing look then turned his gaze toward Krysta. “Would you like to say goodbye to the others? We’ll be departing shortly.”

  Only a few hours before the main cargo bay had housed the Gale. Now it harbored over two hundred Ontarian refugees. Chairs had been scrounged from all over the ship, pillows and assorted pads, anything a woman could sit or lounge upon was now scattered across the floor. Surrounded by the chaos, like a queen holding court, sat Dro Tar, a mischievous smile curving her mouth.

  Lyrik and Trey remained by the door while Krysta made her way across the crowded room. Excited whispers followed her. Conversations both audible and telepathic overlapped and combined into a deafening din. Several people called out her name. She smiled and waved, feeling foolish and exhilarated.

  “Is it true what they say?” A young girl came rushing up. Krysta didn’t know her name.

  “That depends what they say.”

  “Is this planet filled with men?”

  Nervous laughter rippled in their wake. Krysta smiled. “There are about one hundred men to every woman on Ontariese. But there is so much more you need to know. The journey through the portal only takes a few hours, but you should spend that time listening to Dro Tar. She’s a friend of mine.”

  Dro Tar blew her a kiss.

  “Our link was never very strong, but I can’t sense her at all anymore.”

  Krysta turned, recognizing Joleen’s voice. S
he sounded hopeless, defeated. Straight brown hair and grayish-green eyes, she looked nothing like her daughter. But Saebin wasn’t really Joleen’s daughter. Saebin was Krystabel’s.

  “It’s all the emotions,” Krysta said. “They’re together. When we find Belle, we’ll find Saebin.”

  Joleen’s throat worked and she turned her face away. “If she’s lost…if there’s nothing of my Saebin left…can I trust you to do what’s right?”

  Stunned by the question, Krysta could only nod. Joleen kissed her cheek and walked away.

  “What does she think is right?” Lorrisa whispered from behind her.

  Krysta turned and hugged her, holding her close, knowing she understood. “If we did the right thing to everyone in this room who has been altered by Hydran…” She was too upset to finish the thought. Bitterness crackled in her tone, but she wasn’t sure who she resented more, Hydran or Joleen.

  * * *

  Six flashes of lightning struck simultaneously, creating a visible circle of energy. The Gale shook, buffeted by the thunder. Krysta watched mesmerized as the Tempest glided gracefully into the portal and was swallowed by the sky.

  “How have you kept this phenomenon from being recorded by Earth’s meteorologists?” Krysta asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  “The phenomenon is only this conspicuous when we bring ships through.” Trey took her hand and pulled her away from the viewport. “I asked Lord Drakkin to join us before we retire for the night.”

  Krysta chuckled but tension rippled through her abdomen. “This can’t be good. I’ve noticed when you’re uncomfortable your speech becomes quite formal.”

  Trey’s personality was clearly written in the décor of his private study. From the bold lines of the desk to the contrasting burgundy and green of the furniture, everything was overtly masculine. She sat in one of the two tall-backed armchairs, thinking they looked suspiciously Earthish.

  “Why is his image in the Companion? Aren’t you curious?”

  Despite the privacy scanner clearly active beside the door, Drakkin walked into the study. He strolled across the room and sat on the sofa, facing Krysta.

  “I know I locked that door. Do you ever bother with social conventions?”

  “You asked me to come—I am here,” Drakkin responded. “We are all fatigued. Is this really the best time for this conversation?”

  “Will there ever be a good time for this conversation?” Trey shot back.

  “I said when the time was right, I would tell Krysta how my image got into the Companion. I made no promises regarding you.”

  “Gentlemen.” Scooting to the edge of her seat, Krysta tried not to think about all of the conversations she had shared with the Companion, all the questions she had asked, all the stories he had told her. But she had to know. If she were ever to look Lord Drakkin in the eyes without blushing, she had to understand the connection. “Are you and the Companion one and the same?”

  “No. I have nothing to do with the Companion.” He smiled. The flash of white teeth in no way softening his brutally handsome face. “Whatever secrets you told the Companion are safe with him.”

  “How did you get your image into her control module?” Trey asked.

  Drakkin laughed. The red rings in his eyes flashed, making Krysta shiver. He exuded danger.

  “You’ve got it backward, Lord dar Aune.” The lightest tinge of mockery brightened his tone. “The question is, how did she get my image into her module? Krysta contacted me.”

  Krysta glanced at Trey and shook her head. “I don’t know you from Adam. Why would I—how would I contact you?”

  “On Bilarri it is called fezseth salenthia, dream control. You projected your being into my dreams.”

  Crossing her legs and consciously releasing the tension between her shoulder blades, Krysta tried to recall the first time Drakkin had appeared in her dreams. It had been months—no, years—before she programmed his image into the Companion. “I don’t understand. I didn’t know who you were. I had no idea we would ever meet. If I did infiltrate your dreams as you say…”

  He rose and stood before her, tall, imposing and yet so achingly familiar. “You’re a prophet, Krysta. You’ve always known me. Our lives were destined to entwine before your birth, and I will be involved in the lives of your children’s children long after you are gone.”

  She couldn’t find the words to respond. None of it made sense on the surface but what he said was true. In her spirit, she knew he spoke truth. With his hands clasped behind his back, Drakkin turned to Trey. “This is a lull, the calm before the storm. We must be ready.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Krysta stole a glance at him, hearing the deference in his tone. Even Trey could sense the immense power at Drakkin’s command.

  “Sleep well.” Drakkin’s smile and the subtle glow in his eyes assured her he knew she wouldn’t be sleeping for quite some time. Embarrassed, even after he moved out of her field of vision, Krysta nearly missed his last comment.

  “I dream of your mother now.”

  * * *

  “Did you hear what he said?”

  Trey headed her off at the door, unwilling to share any more of their evening with Lord Drakkin. “Yes. I heard.” He leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. “I also heard him tell you to sleep well. My bed is through that door.”

  “And who said I was going to sleep in your bed?” A teasing smile quirked one corner of her mouth.

  “Is there some other bed you would rather share?”

  “No. Maybe I want to sleep alone.”

  He cupped her face with his palms and smiled. “Now why would anyone want to do that when the alternative is so much more desirable?”

  “What do you think he meant about my mother?”

  Trey groaned. Obviously, she wasn’t going to let it rest. “Krysta.” He paused. What could he say to alleviate her anxiety without spending the rest of the night talking?

  Her brows scrunched up over her luminous eyes. He wanted to kiss away the furrow and hear her sigh his name.

  “We have reason to believe your mother is still alive.”

  The furrow deepened and she stepped back. “That’s not funny. I was there. I watched it happen.”

  He pushed away from the door and followed her across the room. “If something happens to Belle, would you know?”

  “Yes. You know I can sense her life force. What does Belle have to do with… My aunt can still sense my mother?”

  “Yes. Charlotte is adamant that Krystabel is still alive.” Krysta stared back at him, her mouth pressed into a tight line, her hands clenched and unclenched. Damn that Bilarrian troublemaker. “Can you tell me what happened—that day?”

  She shook her head. “Oh God, I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “You are thinking about it. You’ve never stopped thinking about it. But we suspect you’re remembering what Hydran wants you to remember, not what really happened. We have to punch holes in that illusion. What did you miss that day? What wasn’t what it seemed?”

  Closing her eyes, she dragged her fingers through her hair and began. “We were separated by a containment field. He didn’t want me to be able to help her.”

  “To help her? What do you mean?”

  Her eyes opened and Trey shuddered at the torment reflected in her purple gaze. He reached for her, desperate to comfort her, but she warned him away with a scathing glare.

  “I’ve tried so hard to forget that day, but if you need the gory details, I’ll give them to you.” She continued in a rush of bitter words. “Hydran was determined to see my mother carry another child. He had tried everything you can imagine—solitary confinement, threats, psychological torture. The real problem was, he couldn’t beat the hell out of her because he needed her strong enough to carry the pregnancy to term.”

  Suspecting the story had just begun, Trey hesitated to ask questions. “How could she prevent him from impregnating her?”

  “How
did she split a single embryo into viable twins? My mother was—is a remarkable woman. Hydran surgically impregnated her three times, and all three times she miscarried within days. It infuriated him.”

  Krysta pushed away from the desk, moving to the viewport, her back to him. He could let it rest, he probably should, but she had battled this demon alone for far too long. “What did he do?”

  He didn’t think she’d answer. Silence stretched between them. He fidgeted. But then she spoke. In a soft, nearly emotionless rush, the story came pouring out.

  “He selected one of the girls from ward A, someone weak—dispensable. Neither this girl nor I had been told what to expect. We didn’t understand what was going on—only my mother knew.”

  Her shoulders trembled, but he didn’t hear a sob or a whimper. Even so, he couldn’t stand the separation any longer. He moved behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, sighing when she covered his arms with hers instead of pushing him away.

  “They grabbed the girl—”

  “Who are they?”

  “Two of Hydran’s bodyguards.”

  “Was Jon one of them?”

  “No.”

  “Sorry.” He kissed her hair. “Go on.”

  “They beat her and—raped her, and all we could do… I didn’t understand…”

  He turned her, trying to pull her against his chest, but she resisted. Guilt and sorrow twisted her lovely face until Trey wanted to put his fist through a wall. Framing her face with his hands, he gently swiped her tear-dampened cheeks with his thumbs. “Why were you there? I don’t understand.”

  “Hydran had told Mother that the abuse would escalate until she agreed to the pregnancy.” She sobbed. “And he told her I was next. The girl was unconscious. The guards asked Hydran what they should do. His voice came over the speakers like some demented demigod. ‘What’s it to be, Krystabel? They don’t need to suffer for your insubordination.’ I looked into her eyes and understood in an instant what was happening. I told her not to give in, that it didn’t matter if they hurt me, whatever he wanted her to do couldn’t be worth it.”