“A trap? That’s very—”
“Devious?” Ashe shrugged. “It’s a gift.” Not to mention a long time family tradition. She considered her meeting with her not-so-great grandma. Make that a really long time. “Unless you don’t want to know.” It sucked when you felt betrayed by those you trusted. Lurch flinched. As he should.
Shan’s hesitation was so brief she almost missed it. He turned, so his back was to Calendria and maybe so he could pound her with his gaze some more.
“I want to know.” He turned and stalked away, something in the set of his shoulders telling her not to follow him.
Ashe sighed, turned away. She ought to do something, if she could figure out what that was. She caught an odd look on Calendria’s face that vanished as soon as she saw Ashe looking at her. With a slight nod her direction, Calendria turned away, too, heading toward the collection tent, leaving Ashe alone with an uncomfortable question that shouldn’t have been a surprise, or taken her so long to think.
Was there someone already in the camp ready and willing to betray Shan? And if there were, how would they get clear before the bad stuff happened, without it looking like they were trying to get clear?
* * * *
Shan stared at the data screens, not sure what he hoped they would show him. The tent felt close, claustrophobic, the air stale, though it was a relief to be out of sight. It felt as if all eyes watched him, wondering what he’d do with the alien.
Someone is gunning for you.
Betrayal.
If anyone wanted to betray him, then Ashe was a gift. She did not need to be his enemy to bring him down. Trying to save her would do it. He did not even need to fail at saving her. The attempt would disgrace his family into at least one, possibly more than one, strata drop. That would not only free up the Council seat for another within their strata, but the partner chosen for him. It could cost them the property that they currently held and what he would have acquired in partnering.
Property and power. Ample motivation for betrayal.
Ashe wasn’t a perfect weapon. He could easily remove the threat she posed by taking her into custody aboard his ship. He had the means. He’d tagged her when he touched her inside the camp. If he turned her over to the Authority, the threat she posed would vanish.
All he had to do was betray his sworn word, his honor.
He hadn’t said the words out loud, but he knew the promise he’d made. He’d put her under his protection in front of the whole camp. His men, his warriors would know he’d not kept his word. How could they trust him to keep his word to them if he did not keep it now?
Duty said he turn her over to proper authorities.
Duty versus honor.
Custom, training said there was no conflict. That only by putting duty first was there honor, that there was never dishonor in doing one’s duty. All were supposed to understand this. If this were truth, why did it feel wrong? Why would he consider risking his family’s future for a stranger, an alien?
He paced the interior perimeter of the tent, circling his thoughts as he circled the space, hoping for clarity. In his world, protection of women was a man’s ultimate duty. Ashe might be an alien, but she was also a woman, though the Authority would not consider her human, let alone worthy of protection. Of course, if she were part of the plan against him, then honor was satisfied, duty could be executed. He might regret her fate, but his conscience would be clear, wouldn’t it?
Like a still frame vid, he saw her as he’d first seen her. Replayed her first smile. The sudden sadness in her eyes when he disappointed her. Exotic, determined, wary, vulnerable—though he sensed she’d not be happy he thought her so. Then the vid changed to Ashe in custody. What would the Authority do with an exotic, beautiful female with no protections? No rights? In his mind, the light faded from her eyes, replaced by haunted despair. Her smile, the tender curve of her mouth, vanished as others, so many others came to see, to take—he shook his head to clear the image. Vivisection would a merciful release from what would happen during their “study” of her.
She did not deserve that. Betrayal did not, could not free him from sworn word. When he’d offered protection, he had not qualified it, had not placed limits or conditions on what she must do to be worthy of it. Honor was not conditional. It was not expedient. Honor was not duty. He felt this truth to his core, though it went against all he’d been taught. What he’d been taught was wrong, though he could see now how well it served the Authority to foster the belief that right would never conflict with the might of the Authority.
A conscience was an uncomfortable companion, but how much worse would a betrayed conscience be? His enemy sought to mortally wound him, but if he gave up his honor for protection, the wound would be self-inflicted. He did the work for his enemy, whether he survived or not.
If she were the trap, or part of a trap, it seemed crafted to catch him, no matter which direction he went. Who knew him well enough to do this? If he did his duty, if he were what his leaders expected him to be, he’d hand her over without a thought. This would bring honor to himself, to his family and his strata. He’d tighten his grip on his power and his land. So his enemy must know him well enough to know he could not do this. This enemy must know him better than he knew himself, because until this moment, he had not known this about himself. Did that make her the trap? Fate? Simple bad luck?
Beyond all these questions was a simple truth. If someone had arranged her arrival, then they must be complicit in the disappearance of the Zalistria as well, because that is what brought him to the sector. Without this, he’d be at home partner claiming a woman, securing and consolidating his position within his strata. More was at stake here than his personal survival. His enemy was willing to put at risk anyone and anything. This threatened all of Keltinar.
How did he plan for a threat he could not see? It was not—
The impossible just takes longer.
He frowned, wondering again where this thought came from. Did he believe it? He wanted to. He wanted—the impossible. His enemy could have his lands, all his power, if he could walk away free. Though he sensed this was not the goal of whoever threatened him. Which brought him face to face with the other impossible. Ashe. He wanted to trust her, believed her when she said one gunned for him. He’d felt it long before she arrived. Felt it even before this deployment, now that he considered it. It had been like a gathering storm at the edge of his mind. A storm that gained force when he was deployed, against reason, to this place.
Why did this deployment feel as wrong to him as being close to Ashe felt right? If he did escape the trap closing in on him, she did not, could not belong in the world that waited for him in Keltinar. If it were that other world, glimpsed so briefly—but it wasn’t. He might ponder the impossible, but he must deal with what was.
He rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the ache of his thoughts. He needed to step back from the tangle of it all, step back from the strange desire to consult with her, this feeling that she could assist. She was a female, an alien, part of the problem, not any portion of the solution. If one of his men brought him the problem how would he—of course. His hand dropped to his side as his thoughts cleared. The question of who was his enemy began with another.
Who stood to gain the most from his fall from grace, from the disappearance of his brother? And of those who might gain, who was in position to do something about it? Who had the power to get him sent here? And of those with the power to betray him, who might find an ally here in camp?
The choice was not vast. One of his men or one of the women. Before meeting Ashe, he’d have not have believed a female could, or would have the power to betray him. And he trusted the men with his life, trusted Bana as only one could family—only someone you trust has the power to betray you.
He sighed. So, of the people he used to trust, which of them had the power to threaten him? And what could he do to stop them?
* * * *
Dinner, breakfast, and a
fairly good night’s rest helped both Ashe and Lurch recover more lost ground from the time tsunami ass kicking. He’d been able to ramp up enough drone production to give her hope that at least some of her suit could be repaired with some drones left over to deploy if she got within touching distance of anything interesting.
And she’d had time to think about her first kiss. Liked it. Wanted to do it again. Wasn’t sure she’d get to though. None of which helped with their main problem. What the freak were they doing here? No surprise Ashe preferred believing they were on a mission from Time, not just part of the time debris still falling out of the skies, cause that meant maybe Time would help them get home if they did their job. Not that she’d figured out how to do that yet.
In the meantime, some more of the transmogrification machine had turned up in the night. Calendria came to tell her about it, invited her to go along to look at it, though Calendria wasn’t able to wrap her tongue around transmogrification. They’d practiced on the way to the new impact crater. Ashe had clambered down with Calendria and poked through one of the pieces and they’d revisited the other, though not because she expected to learn anything. Curiosity drove them both, Ashe suspected. It was whacky, weird, a bit interesting—and a distraction she didn’t mind having when Shan seemed determined to avoid her.
At breakfast she got eyes on what she assumed was the full complement of Shan’s team. With Bana and Calendria’s people in the mix that made three girls and nine guys. Knowing this did not add substantially to their fund of knowledge, though Lurch felt surprised by it.
In the other realities, he had thirteen men.
Was it an important inconsistency between realities or a distraction? Was it a mere difference or an important difference? Would they ever know?
This is pointless. Ashe found a bench and planted her tush on it. We don’t know anything. We aren’t going to know anything because he will never, ever trust me, and why should he? I wouldn’t if I were him. Hell, I don’t even trust me. Which brings me back to pointless. Ashe took a couple of deep breaths. Tried to calm down. I don’t even know how to help myself. How can I help him? We don’t know when we are. We only sort of know where we are. And he won’t talk to me.
She’d tried to talk to Shan, only to be met with the yellow warning barricades in any direction Shan was. At least she was still allowed access to the toilet, food and out of the encampment—though that seemed as odd as the transmogrification machine. Did that mean he wanted her to disappear? It felt like it did.
Eamon came out of the food tent and crossed to her, sank onto a separate bench, though one in her vicinity. “You are well, Lady?”
He was so obviously fascinated, it was kind of sweet and kind of lame—a flattering lame, but lame nonetheless.
“I’m fine.” She managed a smile, though it wasn’t her best effort. “Is the Commander all right?” Okay, she was fishing, but he was the first “pond” to come along she could drop her hook in.
“He is well.”
A really shallow pond.
You are not a fisherman.
No kidding. She was the bright bulb who told Shan not to trust anyone. What’s a bulb?
Do you really want to know?
What she wanted was for him to quit littering her brain with phrases and crap that weren’t hers. And she wanted Shan to trust her, even though she’d told him not to. She wanted to offer him the pitifully little bit of helpful advice she could, which was that he should get his team topside with eyes and feelers out looking for incoming threats—
Gold lights flashed around her, blinded her and when her vision cleared, Eamon was gone. Felt like all the boys were gone. She angled her head, like that would help her listen better. At first there was nothing. Then some insect sounds slowly filled that silence, though maybe filling was a bit of an exaggeration. They were bugs, not an orchestra. Not even a lot of bugs. Not like that night on Hilgared where the bugs had sounded like a three million piece, off key orchestra. Big suckers, too. Major creepy. Put her off bugs forever.
Were you ever “on” bugs?
Like he didn’t know. Before she could call him on it, Shan emerged from the tech tent. He stopped when he saw her, his eyes widening in what she assumed was surprise, then narrowing like a closing time rift. Kind of a bummer he wasn’t happy to see her. Her defenses and ire came up. The rest of her rose, too, her hands going to her hips.
“What?” Her brows arched. “You did not try to deport me, too? Not nice after I’ve been so helpful. And truthful.” Mostly.
“You are—”
“—someone who does not want to get vivisected.” Ever.
His gaze narrowed to knifepoints. Which reminded her of vivisection. A reminder she could do without.
“A Zelk ship was detected entering the sector.”
“So you had to clear the camp of everyone, including the possible rat fink.”
“You would be safe on my ship.”
“Until it delivered me for—”
His sudden, sharp movement stopped her words. “It…would not.”
Ashe sank back down on the bench. What do you say now, Lurch?
It is not over until it is over.
You’re such a cynic. Ashe didn’t smile at Shan. She knew, though she didn’t know how, that he’d hate that, see is as sign of triumph. “Thank you.”
“Then you will go?”
She studied him, starting with his impassive face. Lingered a bit in the chest area, because the future was uncertain, traveled her gaze down to his clenched fists. The trip back to his face was faster. She felt a bit of regret she had to disappoint him. Not a lot. Just a bit. “No.”
“What—”
“I told you, I fix things. And I’m good at it.” If tidiness didn’t count. His mouth opened. “And don’t give me any of that ‘you’re a delicate female crap.’ I left delicate behind a long time ago.” Or sometime in the future. She still wasn’t sure. “I can help. I’m here to help.” Probably. Time could be punishing them both for something they’d done or would do.
She stared at him, waiting for his super nose to parse out her uncertainty and call her on it. Maybe waiting for a smack down from the uber male pirate. He probably couldn’t help himself, but it would still sting a bit. She cared what he thought of her. Couldn’t seem to stop. She angled her chin, braced for it.
He hesitated which wasn’t a surprise. His nod was. She wanted to smile. Still didn’t. One didn’t poke the gift griffon in the nose.
Look a gift horse in the mouth, you mean.
That doesn’t make sense. The edges of Shan’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. Maybe she was starting to grow on him. He might even like her a little.
The kiss wasn’t a clue?
From the guy who has never kissed a girl? Not really.
Lurch had no answer for that, darn it. For a few seconds she wanted to kick Shan, but then she made mistake of looking at him and was back to wanting the kisses. Weird.
She followed him into the tech tent, which wasn’t as good as kisses, but probably as good as it would get. His expression looked caught somewhere between curiosity and distrust. Kind of looked like it hurt.
You make my head hurt.
You have a head? That silenced him long enough for Ashe to look around. There was already a gap in the small cluster of stuff, probably where Calendria’s equipment had been. At first sight, what was left seemed a bit on the lean side, until Lurch reminded her this was probably the portable stuff, deployed from his ship. Ashe felt a shiver of delight run down her back, one mixed with some Lurch delight, cause he loved the tech, too. She studied a square, squat unit calling to Lurch like a nanite siren. Which meant it was probably the one that controlled the other stuff and could give them the desperately needed data access. She fought back the urge to hug it and whimper like a girl. She won the skirmish because she’d matured over the last, well, she’d matured.
And you don’t wish to get shot.
There wa
s that. She eyed Shan, wondering how they got to the next step. Or to any step. He must have formulated a plan, but sure as breathing he didn’t trust her enough to share it. Wasn’t about to arm her either, which sucked with the Zelk incoming.
I have drones just waiting for a place to go. He couldn’t tap a foot, but it still felt like he was. Behind her right eye. She rubbed her temple, but before she could ask, Shan beat her to it.
“I will need to touch you, hold your hand, to made my tracking screens visible to you.”
It’s gotta be Garradian based tech to do that.
I agree. Now could you touch him?
That was a change, but also good advice. And she wanted to. She reached out, felt his hand close around hers, warm, strong, gentle which was kind of a surprise, because his teeth looked a bit clenched. Felt a bit of a buzz, then a series of screens appeared in front of her. This was trust in spades, though his jaw didn’t unclench. If anything, the tension vibes went up.
She shunted tension to a mental sidetrack, and began to study the various data screens. One showed her the disposition of his force, eight ships strategically ringing the planet. The ninth, Shan’s she presumed, was in a low orbit well clear of the meteorite strike zone. She tipped her head to one side. That’s interesting. In a really weird way. That strike zone, what looked a bit like an asteroid belt, appeared to “start” from nowhere. Had to be a time event, though it doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen or studied.
I wish I had a time tracking sensor deployed.
Maybe you can tweak one of his sensors. A meteorite appeared at that point, tracked toward the planet in a trajectory close to the previous ones. It was only when it encountered atmosphere that its track seemed to lose definition and become more random. Though it still impacted within an almost predictable region.
Are you in his tech?
Kicking Ashe Page 10
