Operation Hydra

by Cyndi Friberg

  Then Dr. Hydran nodded. “I’ll go get them.”

  He was out the office door before Trey registered the last word. Them? Hadn’t he meant her?

  * * *

  “Doctor Hydran wants to see you.”

  “Unbelievable.” Krysta let her fork clatter noisily to the tabletop. Twice in one day? What had she done to deserve this?

  “You too, Belle,” the orderly said.

  “Why?” Krysta demanded.

  The orderly shook her head impatiently. “I fetch and carry. Don’t confuse me with someone who knows anything.”

  They followed the orderly from the cafeteria-commons in the center of ward B. Belle lagged a step behind.

  “It’ll be all right,” Krysta said automatically.

  “No, it won’t. This is bad. This is very bad.”

  Belle felt everything more intensely, sensed things even Krysta didn’t. Many thought she was weak and helpless, but Krysta understood the true cause of her fear. Belle knew more.

  “So how’s the family?” Krysta asked as the orderly scanned open the door.

  She stopped once the door slid shut behind them, arms akimbo. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

  Krysta laughed, hoping to lighten the mood. “Because in the eight years you’ve worked here, you’ve never answered the question.”

  “My family is fine,” she answered tersely.

  Belle laughed and Krysta smiled. “So what’s your name?”

  The orderly made an exasperated sound and stopped again. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

  “I know, but you’ll get tired of this question in a year or two.”

  Belle continued to laugh and Krysta knew she would welcome whatever punishment this breach in protocol brought.

  “Brett, now leave me alone.”

  “Okay, Brett-now-leave-me-alone. I won’t bother you again until tomorrow.”

  Brett just shook her head and stomped on down the corridor.

  Where were they going? Krysta was not familiar with this section of the building. They passed beyond a full-body scanner. High security.

  “You two in front.” Brett pulled a slender silver wand from the holster at her side. Why did she need her equalizer?

  Krysta glanced at Belle, but her sister’s swirling turquoise gaze, the only variation in their physical appearance, was fixed on something beyond Brett. She couldn’t see what had caused Belle’s incredulity until she rounded the corner.

  She should have known. Trey Darrin stood beside Dr. Hydran in the lobby of The Center. Krysta had only seen the room on vidscreens and through shared memories. The entire front wall was constructed of tall, curved windows, showcasing the majestic mountain setting.

  Trancelike, Krysta moved toward the windows absorbing the sunshine on her upturned face. They were allowed one hour in the courtyard each day but the dome was not this clear. She wanted to crash through the windows and run for… Where would she go? She knew no one. Had nowhere to run.

  “Krysta.” Dr. Hydran drew her attention away from the vista. “I’ve agreed to allow Mr. Darrin to take you outside The Center.”

  “Why?” She looked at the tall, bronze-skinned man, suddenly more threatened by him than Dr. Hydran.

  “He has a proposal he wishes to discuss with you.”

  Krysta focused on Trey. “What proposal? What is this about?”

  “If you wish to spend your time here in the lobby, that’s up to you,” Hydran said. “You have twenty-four hours.”

  “Belle can—”

  “No,” Hydran interrupted her. “Orderly.”

  Brett grabbed Belle, wrapping one arm around her throat and pressing the equalizer to her side. Krysta started forward.

  “Orderly, if Krysta takes another step, discharge your weapon,” Hydran said calmly.

  Krysta didn’t move.

  Hydran took a mister and sprayed something up Belle’s nose. She squirmed and tossed her head but Brett held her firmly. Then Hydran plugged her nose, forcing her to open her mouth. He propelled the mist into her throat as well.

  “What the hell is that?” Krysta demanded.

  “A variation of the virus I used on your patient this morning. This has an incubation period between twenty-two and twenty-four hours. You better not be tardy. At this strength, it takes less than an hour to kill.”

  Chapter Two

  Trey saw violence erupt in Krysta’s eyes.

  “Escort Belle back to ward B,” Hydran told the orderly, and turned to see that his instruction was obeyed.

  Only a fool turned his back on an enemy. Did this man know nothing?

  As soon as the door protected Belle, Krysta leapt. Trey caught her in midair, his arm easily spanning her waist. She kicked and flailed, throwing her weight forward in a silent flurry of activity. Now she understood strategy. Hydran hadn’t even noticed her attack.

  The doctor turned and laughed.

  “Why thank you, Mr. Darrin.” He watched her struggle for a moment, apparently fascinated by the ferocity of her fury. “We may need to discuss a lasting arrangement when you return.”

  Biting back a hundred scathing replies, Trey turned his attention to the woman thrashing in his arms.

  “Put me down, you cretin!”

  “Why?” He wrapped his arm around hers, keeping her from hitting him. Her legs still scissored wildly, but it was the best he could do without taking her down.

  Hydran watched them closely. Knowing he couldn’t squander this opportunity, Trey spun her to face him. He trapped her arms against her sides and pressed her to his torso. She squirmed and arched but her toes barely touched the floor.

  “Are you enjoying this? Is that why you’re still struggling?” Her breasts heaved against his chest. A salacious smile curved his lips. “Keep it up, doll. I don’t mind. Whatever you need is fine by me.”

  She gasped. “You’re disgusting.” Finally she stopped wiggling.

  Without releasing Krysta, Trey looked at the doctor over her head. Hydran nodded in silent approval. Trey returned the nod but imagined lifting Krysta aside and laying into Hydran himself. Maintaining a blank expression had never been so difficult.

  Krysta slowly moved his hands away from her and headed for the door leading back to the wards. She gave Hydran a wide berth and refused to look at either of them. The scanner beeped irregularly, rejecting her retinal pattern. “Please open the door,” she said in a quiet, mechanical voice.

  “You’re going with Mr. Darrin.”

  She turned on him. “I’m not playing your game. I’m going to wherever the hell Brett took Belle and I’m going to heal her. I’m going to—”

  Hydran cut her off with a sudden, vicious backhand. Trey had been so distracted by her flashing purple eyes he hadn’t seen it coming. Her face jerked to the side and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

  She didn’t wipe it away, didn’t move, just glared her hatred at Hydran. “Open the door.”

  Oh, sweetheart, you’re going to have to learn to bend just a little. Trey quickly stepped between them, facing Krysta.

  “Listen, doll, I paid for twenty-four hours.”

  Damn, that hadn’t sounded right at all!

  Trey cleared his throat and tried again. “You and Dr. Hydran here are never going to accomplish anything if you’re wasting all your time making each other miserable. What I’ve got in mind will—”

  “I’m no more interested in what you have in mind than what Hydran prefers. My sister is sick!”

  Trey smiled. “Not for another twenty-three hours. You’re wasting my time.”

  She glared at him.

  “Arguing with her is futile. She is irrational and contrary,” Hydran put in.

  “I’m beginning to see that.” He needed to get her out of here and she wasn’t going to like it. Oh well, how much worse could this get? He bent, shoved his shoulder into her belly and picked her up. Her breath escaped in a soft grunt and she kicked. Gods, she was a handful. Quickly tucking his ja
cket over his forearm, he trapped her legs against his chest and swatted her butt hard. “Behave!”

  She hit his back with what felt like her closed fist. He laughed. He started to smack her again but Hydran was standing beneath the scanner, holding the exit door for him, so he rested his open palm against her bottom and squeezed. She gasped. He squeezed again.

  “Have fun.” Laughter thickened Hydran’s tone.

  “Count on it.”

  Trey didn’t move his hand off her behind until they reached the shuttle lot, partly to infuriate her but mostly because he enjoyed the firm resilience of her rounded flesh.

  “Commander Aune.” Dro Tar’s anxious voice sounded through the audiocom hooked around his ear.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Our scans indicate a monitoring signal transmitting from your immediate vicinity. Is it possible Dr. Hydran planted a transmitter on you?”

  “I don’t see how. He never touched me.”

  “It could be microscopic. Did you eat or drink anything?”

  “Please,” Trey objected.

  “Sorry. Who’s with you, sir?”

  “One of the female occupants.”

  “Oh I see.” She laughed. “Did I—”

  “This is business,” he snapped. He could just picture her amusement. She knew the situation as well as he did. “Let me put her down and see if the scanner—”

  “Put her down?” Dro Tar teased. “Are you sure this is business?”

  “Just give me a minute.”

  Trey bent and put Krysta’s feet on the ground. He pressed her against the shuttle and held her there, his hand in the middle of her chest.

  Her gaze met his cautiously but she didn’t say a word.

  “Scan her now,” he ordered.

  “You’re still too close,” Dro Tar said.

  Trey moved back. “Stay there,” he told Krysta firmly in Earthish.

  “Who are you talking to?” Krysta’s gaze never left his face.

  “Yep,” Dro Tar confirmed. “It’s the woman. Do you think she knows she’s transmitting?”

  “Somehow I doubt it. Terminate the comlink, Dro Tar, and leave it off until I contact you.”

  “But, Commander Aune—”

  “Now.” He didn’t need to raise his voice.

  “Yes sir.”

  He didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to do this. But he had to solidify the role he was playing. It was necessary for the greater good. The phrase brought his thoughts grinding to a halt. His brother’s wife Charlotte, High Queen of all Ontariese, despised that phrase. But it was true. Each day was but a thread in the endless tapestry of time.

  Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Trey focused on the mission. Krysta would understand—in time. Slapping the pad with far more force than necessary, Trey activated the hatch. It popped, hissed then extended a loading ramp. “Get in.”

  “I’m not going with you.” Her tone was quiet, determined.

  He didn’t argue. Balling up his jacket, he tossed it into the passenger seat adjacent to the hatch. Then he swept her into his arms and carried her onto the shuttle. It was no easy feat. She fought him every step of the way. He set her down near the stern, the only area of the craft where he didn’t have to stoop, and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Look, Mr. Darrin. I can’t do this. How am I supposed to trust Hydran to keep his word? How do I know Belle is—”

  “Can’t you sense her?”

  Her eyes widened and she took a tiny step backward. “Why would you ask me that?”

  Think before you speak, Mr. Darrin, Trey mocked himself. She’s a sharp one.

  “Dr. Hydran told me you could.” He had to remain within his persona. Damn, this was complicated.

  After a long pause she admitted, “Yes, I can sense her.”

  “So,” he waved his hand, “beep her or whatever and make sure she’s not ill.”

  Her throat moved as she swallowed and she anxiously licked her lips. “I already have, but what if he’s wrong about the incubation period? He said less than an hour. Once it’s begun, this virus will kill her in less than an hour. I can’t be more than an hour away. I can’t be more than a few minutes away.”

  Watching her expression closely, he carefully laid his trap. “A compromise then?”

  “Depends what you’re suggesting.” Her eyebrows drew together, her lips trembling just a bit.

  “I’ll fly us to a location less than fifteen minutes from The Center and you stop being a pain in the ass.”

  A chuckle escaped before she could stop it, but she quickly regained control of her expression. “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

  Trey flipped down the vidscreen recessed in the wall of the shuttle. Activating his audiocom, he spoke quickly and quietly. “Dro Tar. Ask Vee to transmit in writing exactly what I’m about to say to the vidscreen I just activated. He needs to transmit in Earthish. But nothing I’m about to say can be spoken in Earthish. Don’t ask questions. Ready?”

  “Go,” Dro Tar said after a short pause.

  He took Krysta by the shoulders and pointed toward the vidscreen. “Don’t ask questions,” he began.

  “Go,” Dro Tar said more firmly.

  Trey chuckled. “No, that’s what I want Vee to transmit. Just give me to Vee.”

  “Go,” Vee’s voice prompted.

  The words Do not ask questions appeared on the vidscreen.

  Krysta shot Trey a questioning look and opened her mouth. He quelled the impulse with a glare. She turned back to the screen.

  “A signal is being transmitted from you. Do not speak. Nod yes or no. Were you aware of this?”

  After the interpretation, she looked at Trey and shook her head.

  “Is there anything on your person other than your clothing?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “Thank you, Vee. Close the com.”

  Trey pointed to the vidscreen. “You understand what I want from you?”

  “Yes.”

  He couldn’t decide if she was angry or afraid. It didn’t matter. The sooner they dealt with this, the sooner they’d get out from under Hydran’s microscope.

  Retrieving his jacket, he sat facing her. “I want to see your legs,” he murmured. “Hydran gave me a preview in the other direction.”

  Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she stared at the vidscreen for a long time.

  “If you don’t take it off, I’ll come get it. I know you like to wrestle but this shuttle is miserably cramped for what I have in mind.”

  It was definitely fear in her wide purple eyes. He nodded toward the vidscreen.

  She covered her face with her hands, took several deep breaths and then reached under her uniform top and unfastened the bottom. Hesitating another moment, she shoved the garment down and kicked it to him. He balled it tightly and tossed it through the open hatch, as far from the ship as he could.

  “Dro Tar? Is the signal gone?”

  “Sorry, boss. Keep up the striptease.”

  “I told you to close the com,” he growled.

  She laughed. “No. You told Vee to close his com and he did.”

  He didn’t have time to deal with Dro Tar’s idea of humor!

  Clearing his throat, he continued. “Now those boots just ruin the effect. Kick them over here.”

  She did, directly at his face. He caught the first and barely managed to duck the second. “Not enjoying the game?” he asked to justify his laughter.

  He heaved the boots out the hatch.

  “No dice,” Dro Tar said. She had developed a fondness for American slang when they visited Earth ten cycles before. No one could break her of the habit.

  Trey shook his head. He couldn’t do this to Krysta again. She’d been humiliated enough, frightened enough. He picked up his jacket and handed it to her. Hopefully, she knew what needed to happen. Remaining on his feet, he turned his back and prayed she’d act quickly.

  “You know, doll. I think
I can wait to touch, if you let me see it all now.” He could hear the shuffle of her clothing. Thank the gods of the day moon she didn’t hesitate. “Your skin is so pale but I bet it’s soft. Come on. Don’t be shy. That’s the part I’ve seen already. Not that I’m complaining.” He managed a wicked chuckle. “I’m not complaining at all. All of it. Every scrap. I don’t want anything to touch you but me.”

  A tightly clenched fist bearing the remainder of her clothing jabbed him in the side. He took the bundle from her and threw it out into the shuttle lot, quickly closing the hatch.

  “Please tell me the signal is outside the ship,” Trey said.

  “Mission accomplished, mon capitaine. Dro Tar out.”

  “Better late than never.” Trey turned to face Krysta and his budding smile withered and died.

  She stood, lost within his massive jacket, her huge purple eyes staring at him with utter devastation.

  “Sweetheart,” he started gently then immediately regretted the endearment. “I didn’t even peek. I promise.” Her fingers clutched his coat so forcefully her knuckles turned white. He was afraid to touch her but more afraid to leave her alone. “It’s okay. He can’t hear us now.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said.

  “What don’t I understand?”

  “Now he knows.”

  “What does he know?” Trey felt like an idiot.

  “For twenty-two years I’ve fought that man, and in a matter of minutes you showed him what it will take to break me.”

  * * *

  Alistair Hydran tapped his fingers against his desktop, anxiously waiting for a response to his page.

  “This better be important,” the general’s voice snapped without preamble.

  Their signal was scrambled but the general doubted the security of any transmission. “I wouldn’t have contacted you directly unless I had no other choice. This couldn’t wait.”

  “Speak—carefully.”

  Hydran nodded then chuckled at himself. Audio-only communication was so antiquated. “An unexpected opportunity has arisen. The little hellcat has taken a fancy to an off-worlder. Corra’s scans indicate his physiology is remarkably similar to the hellcat’s.”

  “Does this off-worlder possess the same genetic abnormality?”