gaian consortium 03 - the gaia gambit

by Pope, Christine

  Although she still faced forward, Miala gave a lift of her shoulders that was clearly intended for them. “You’re probably right. So what do you want me to do? Give it up?”

  “No,” Rast said, and although his tone was quiet enough, something about the edge to his voice made Lira look over at him sharply. “I am not saying that at all. Can you give us what information you have so far?”

  “Sure thing. Either of you have a handheld? Give me the code, and I’ll send it over.”

  Lira reached down to pull the device off her belt — and the sky outside their window was splashed with fire, painting the dim little room in angry shades of orange and carmine.

  What the hell —

  From below Eryk Thorn’s voice came to them. “Ship! Take defensive positions!”

  At once Rast whirled and pounded down the stairs, obviously intending to help the mercenary mount whatever defense was necessary.

  Miala bolted up from her seat. “Jerem — Leah — ”

  “Go to the baby,” Lira said at once. “I’ll make sure Jerem is all right.”

  The hacker nodded, white-faced, and bolted out of the room, even as the unmistakable sound of pulse fire came from outside, clearly aimed at the front entrance.

  Good thing they don’t know the Thorn family hangs out in the kitchen, Lira thought as she raced downstairs, cursing herself for leaving her sidearm back on the Chinook. Then again, she hadn’t thought she would need it. Not here…not in this haven Eryk Thorn had created for his wife and children.

  Not such a haven anymore.

  Smoke was already drifting down the hallway, acrid, catching at the back of her throat. She burst into the kitchen, saw Rast holding a deadly-looking pulse rifle, Thorn with a pistol in one hand. Without speaking, he reached into a drawer and tossed her the mate to the gun he held. She caught it.

  Guess I didn’t have to worry about not bringing my gun with me…

  Jerem was tucked away into a corner behind the breakfast table. Surprisingly, he didn’t look frightened at all. Instead, he had almost an expectant expression on his face, as if he were simply waiting for his father to go into action so he could watch the show.

  “Six of them,” Thorn said briefly. She noted a brief flash from the screen of a handheld before he slipped it back into a pocket. Surveillance feed, most likely. “Came in a Jecca-class ship, so I’m guessing they’re Bathshevan mercs.” A sideways glance from those dark eyes, so hard they looked like chips of obsidian. “I’d say you didn’t find all the trackers on your ship, except I did a sweep of it myself and I know there’s nothing there.”

  “You did a — ” She broke off, realizing it was stupid to argue with him over such a petty invasion of privacy, especially now, with armed invaders breaking the peace of the Thorn homestead. “So what next?”

  An incongruous grin, and for the first time she caught a glimpse of what Miala must see in the man. He did have a very good smile. “Let’s see how many of them are left.”

  “Left?” Rast inquired, with a quick, darting glance down the hallway, where the smoke was getting thicker.

  “No worries,” Thorn said, and pushed a button on his handheld.

  Lira heard an odd gushing noise. Almost at once the smoke began to lessen, and she realized Thorn must have installed some sort of fire retardant mechanism in the house.

  “They’re going to have a tough time getting to the front door,” he added.

  His words might have been a signal. From outside came a series of small explosions. The grounds surrounding the house must have been rigged.

  “But we walked across that hundreds of times — ” she began.

  “Yes, ’cause I hadn’t armed the defenses. Soon as the alarm went off on my handheld, I activated everything. One of ’em might be able to get through. Maybe.”

  Sure enough, another series of explosions shook the house. Lira wondered how Miala was doing, stuck upstairs with the baby. Then again, she must know how well-protected the house was, so maybe she was hunkering down to wait it out.

  A pulse blast echoed down the corridor. Apparently at least one of the attackers had made it through the mine field, and was now attempting to shoot his way through the back door.

  “Wait here,” Thorn said, and his gaze flickered past Lira to his son, who sat in the corner, dark eyes shining.

  “I’ve got it,” she said, moving closer to the boy.

  The mercenary nodded, jerked his chin at Rast, and the two of them headed down the hallway. Even though of course she wanted the intruders stopped, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of pity for whoever was out there, firing away at the innocuous-looking door, which she guessed was only ordinary on the outside. She had a feeling they weren’t expecting to run into one of the galaxy’s most notorious guns-for-hire.

  “I wish I could see,” said Jerem in plaintive tones, and Lira smiled even as she shook her head.

  “I doubt your father wants you in the middle of a firefight. We’d better wait back here while they handle it.”

  “O-kay,” the boy replied, looking dejected. “I never get to do anything fun.”

  Any desire to laugh was quickly smothered by the sound of more pulse bolts coming down the hallway. Despite the knowledge that Eryk Thorn and Rast sen Drenthan could probably handle just about anything thrown at them, Lira still felt her throat grow tight with worry. What if there were more of them out there? What if a stray bolt somehow hit Rast? She’d just begun to acknowledge what he meant to her. She couldn’t lose him now. Not like this.

  Her hand shook slightly as she gripped the pistol, knowing she would have to shoot if someone managed to make it past the two men. Killing was still something she hadn’t quite come to terms with, especially when she had to do it on such a personal level…and in front of Jerem. It felt different when it was one ship shooting at another. You couldn’t see the life drain away from someone when you blasted a hole in the side of their ship, even if the end result might be the same.

  Relief coursed through her as Rast and Eryk Thorn returned to the hallway, dragging a limp form between them. The unconscious man — or maybe he was dead — wore the dark jumpsuit and body armor of a Bathshevan mercenary, and when Thorn reached down to pull off the man’s helmet, the merc’s shaved, tattooed head was the final clinching evidence that these interlopers had come from that rough frontier world.

  Without speaking, Thorn squatted down and searched the man with brutal efficiency, spilling out his pockets and the pack he wore on his back. With the same economy of movement he rifled through what he found, which wasn’t much. Spare battery packs, small wrapped squares of what were probably field rations, a spare laser scope. Nothing, however, that could help to show who he was or where he came from: no handheld, no identification. Which, Lira guessed, was par for the course. Not much use in being an anonymous mercenary force if you carried your pilot’s license with you.

  Through all this Rast had stood by silently, allowing Thorn to do his work. Although she somehow knew these men had come for her and Rast, still, this was Eryk Thorn’s home they had invaded. It was his right to search the fallen mercenary.

  Apparently done, Thorn got back to his feet. Never one to wear the most pleasant of expressions on his face, he now looked grimmer than ever, mouth a flat line, brows pulled together. He looked past Lira to his son, saying, “Jerem, go upstairs and tell your mother to come down here. But you stay up there. Hear me?”

  “But Dad — ”

  “Are you defying me?”

  “No, Dad.” Looking sulky as only a ten-year-old boy could, Jerem stomped past Lira. As he approached the fire door, it retracted, allowing him to continue out into the corridor. A series of heavy thuds seemed to signal his annoyed progress up the stairs.

  Thorn waited a few seconds, then said, “I didn’t want to say this in front of him. For whatever reason, he’s taken a liking to you two. But this is over. I want you out of here. Now.”

  Lira opened her mouth to protest, and
shut it again. What could she say, really? She and Rast had somehow drawn the mercenaries here, threatening the safety of Eryk Thorn’s family. He might not have cared if it had only been him, but when he had a wife and a son and a baby daughter to protect —

  Like her, Rast seemed to understand, giving a grim nod before replying, “We’ll have to check on our ship, make sure the mercs didn’t damage it somehow, but otherwise we’ll be away as soon as we can.”

  Miala appeared then, baby tucked up against one shoulder. “What’s this about being away?”

  “I told our guests that it was time for them to go.”

  Her brows drew together. “Without talking to me first?”

  “The safety of my family is non-negotiable.”

  Obviously flummoxed, Miala glanced away from her husband and over at Rast briefly before allowing her gaze to settle on Lira. “I’m really sorry about this — ”

  “It’s all right,” Lira broke in. “He’s right. We’ve endangered your family, and that was never our intention. But if you could give me that data — ”

  “Absolutely.” She shifted the baby to her other shoulder; little Leah let out a small, contented burp, and then seemed to go right back to sleep.

  “I’ll go look at the ship while you do that,” Rast said.

  “And I’ll come with you,” Thorn said unexpectedly. “Just in case any of our friends are hanging back at their ship.”

  A nod from Rast, seeming to indicate his agreement with this idea, and then both men went out the back door, leaving Lira and Miala alone in the kitchen.

  “Well, come on upstairs,” Miala said, after an awkward pause.

  Since there didn’t seem to be anything left to do, Lira followed the other woman up to her office, where Miala pulled up the necessary data and beamed it to Lira’s handheld. “No time to encrypt it,” Miala said. “So make sure you sleep with this thing under your pillow, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  At that moment Jerem’s curly dark head peered around the doorsill. “What’s going on?”

  Miala didn’t look up from her computer. “I’m getting Lira the information she needs so they can go.”

  “Go?” Jerem demanded. “Why?”

  Surprising herself, Lira jumped in, as if to keep Miala from having to explain that Jerem’s father had basically kicked their two visitors out of the house. “Your mother found the information we needed, so it’s time for us to go.”

  Jerem, however, seemed to see right through her stratagem, and frowned. “No, you’re going because those mercs showed up and my dad is pissed off about it.”

  Out of the mouths of babes… Lira cast a helpless look at Miala, who said briskly, “Jerem, you should know better than to talk about things you don’t know anything about. Go back to your room.”

  “What, I don’t even get to say goodbye to Rast?”

  “Now.”

  His lower lip pushed out mutinously, but he heaved an exaggerated sigh and went away, his footsteps heavy across the wooden floors.

  Miala sighed. “Kids. I think it’s even tougher when they’re just too darn smart for their own good.”

  Not having much frame of reference, Lira could only lift her shoulders before saying, “I should go downstairs and see what Rast found out about the ship.”

  “Sure. I’m going to put Leah to bed, since she’s finally conked out, and then I’ll be down, too.”

  There wasn’t much else to say. Lira hurried down the stairs to find both Thorn and Rast in the kitchen. Although Rast did not look exactly thrilled with life at the moment, she didn’t see anything in his expression to indicate that the Chinook wasn’t ready to head out.

  “Everything okay?” she inquired.

  He nodded. “Looks like it. The explosions didn’t reach that part of the property, and it looks as if the mercs were more interested in getting at us than at the ship, so we’re good to go.”

  Good to go. At that moment it came to her full force that they were about to leave. It was only then that she realized how much she’d come to appreciate this little haven of peace and quiet, this spot that the darker sides of the galaxy hadn’t seemed to touch.

  Well, not until tonight, anyway.

  She began, “I don’t know how to thank you — ” but Miala waved a hand.

  “It’s all right. If nothing else, cleaning up the yard will give Thorn and Jerem something to do for the next few days, keep them out of my hair.”

  Despite herself, Lira couldn’t help smiling. “Still…”

  Eryk Thorn cut in, “You should get moving. We’re isolated here, but not so isolated that the scanners in Christchurch might not have picked up on those explosions. I can head them off, but it’s going to be tougher if I’ve got a Stacian hanging around my property in a stolen Sirocco-class ship.”

  “Got it.” If Rast was annoyed by Thorn’s words, he didn’t show it. “We’re ready. Aren’t we, Lira?”

  No protests could delay their leave-taking any longer, so she nodded. “Thanks again. For everything. And we’ll find some way to get to word to you once we get to the bottom of this.”

  “You’d better.” Miala gave Lira a mock-fierce glare. “I hate unsolved mysteries.”

  After that there was nothing left to do. She went to Rast then, glad she could have him walk next to her as they left the house. They picked their way across what was left of the yard and went to the Chinook. The door stood open, awaiting their return.

  At the bottom of the gangplank, Rast paused and stared down at her. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “Let’s get out of here.”

  And as they entered the ship, she wondered if she would ever stand on Gaia’s surface again.

  * * *

  Although she piloted the ship with the same effortless grace she’d always shown while working its controls, Rast could tell she was upset. Funny how her small expressions, the slightest furrow of her brow, the way she looked away from him out the viewscreen, the hard line of her jaw, were as clear to him now as if she had just written the words “I am pissed off” across her forehead with glowing ink.

  “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “Not really. I just want to get us out of this godforsaken system.”

  So he waited as she brought them around the night side of the planet, past its sole stony moon, and out toward the farther reaches of the Gaian system where the gas giants reigned. Her mouth tightened as they passed the largest planet, and he recalled that it was on one of that planet’s moons where she had grown up, where she had sought refuge after being discharged from the GDF.

  Apparently that refuge hadn’t been a very effective one.

  “And now?” he inquired softly, once they were very nearly to the open space where it would be safe for them to make the subspace jump.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Straight on to Eridani?”

  He’d thought of that, but no point in diving straight into the fire. “Probably not wise. We need to analyze the data Miala gave us first, then plan from there. If forces in the Eridani government are somehow behind all this, it would not do to march in with guns blazing. The Eridani mind is subtle.” He grimaced, thinking of how often the soft-voiced Eridanis got their way at the negotiating table. “I will admit that I am not the best-suited for this sort of confrontation. I was trained for action, not stealth.”

  A wry smile twisted her full lips. “You and me both, Rast. I’m not saying I’m the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ type, but I’m — I was — a ship’s captain, not a diplomat or a spy. Right now, I’ll plot us a course for the dead space around the Charybdis Shoals. No one should disturb us there while we try to figure out what to do next.” She returned her attention to the instruments before her, fingers flying as she programmed in the necessary coordinates.

  That made sense. What they needed was some breathing room. And he thought then that one of the things he loved about her was her ability to look at herself dispassiona
tely, with very little self-deception or puffery. She knew who she was, what she was good at.

  That thought led to some quite delectable things that she was very good at, and he smiled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s not so much that I’m amused,” he told her, reaching down and taking her by the hand, raising her from her seat so he could pull her against him. “I was recalling a pleasant memory.”

  That line between her brows smoothed itself away, and she stared up at him, one eyebrow raised. A faint sweet scent drifted from her hair, and his loins tightened, heat rushing through him at the memory of those silken locks brushing against his cheeks, his chest.

  “Which memory is that?” she inquired, but he could tell from a certain gleam in her eyes that she knew very well what he had been thinking about.

  “The one we’re about to make,” he replied, and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up, taking her back to the cabin, even as the the autopilot took them into subspace, away from Gaia’s sensors. Away from everything.

  He worried for a second or two that she might protest, but instead she burrowed herself into his neck, that lovely mouth of hers doing some astonishing things to his throat. A smack of his hand against the control to open the door, and then they were inside. He set her down gently, but only so he could pull off her jacket, then draw her open-collared shirt over her head. The curious garment Gaian women wore to support their breasts was still in the way, but she helped him with that, reaching behind her to undo its clasp, tossing it onto the cabin’s sole chair. Then her breasts were bared to him, those wonders of smooth pale flesh, tipped with rosy-dark nipples.

  It was too much for him to wait any longer, and he bent to take one into his mouth, to suckle her as she gasped and arched her back into him. She was not so far lost in the moment that she couldn’t reach down and undo the belt he wore, which dropped to the metal floor with a thud, holstered pulse pistol and all. Her fingers worked hastily on the closures of his trousers, but even so she was still in control, deftly pulling them down, taking him into her hand, moving up and down his shaft.