Unchained Memory (The Interstellar Rescue Series Book 1)

by Donna S. Frelick

  “Yes, well, thanks for that.” He wasn’t convinced she’d been as discreet as she thought. “Did you find any of those people I asked you about?”

  “No, you know it’s the strangest thing.” Her voice dropped. “It was like they had all disappeared off the face of the earth. One was actually dead. I found a death certificate—a car accident, I think. The others, I couldn’t find anything—no work history, no medical records, no debt records, no SSN’s, nothing. They’d been, like, erased, or something. Weird, huh?”

  “Yeah, weird. Who was the one with the death certificate?”

  “Uh . . . I think, yeah, it was the Air Force guy. Lieutenant Colonel Bradley Conners, 46 years old.”

  Conners. Damn it. Handsome, strong, haunted green eyes, two little kids. “That’s too bad. When did he die?”

  “Uh, let’s see. January of this year. Car went off a bridge into the Potomac near D.C.”

  Ethan felt the added weight as Conners’ body was added to the pile of guilt he carried. Ethan prayed he’d been alone in the car when he died.

  “Thanks, Amanda. I appreciate all your hard work. How about I send you a check for your time?”

  “Oh, no, Doc, you don’t need to do that. Now, if you had a line on a job, that’s something I could use.”

  “Tell you what. Talk to Jessica Peterson at ACP Counseling on West End. They were looking for office staff a couple of weeks ago. Tell her I said for you to call, okay?”

  “Sure, yeah, thanks, Doc! I appreciate it.”

  “If I get the chance, I’ll give her a call when I get back.”

  “That’s really great. Thanks.”

  “’Bye, Amanda.”

  He snapped the phone closed and stood for a moment, one arm braced against the post supporting the porch roof. The sun threw a hard-edged light across the deep green and vibrant colors of the tall trees lining the road, but it gave off little warmth. The brisk wind was sharp with the edge of coming winter. Ethan scanned the trees, the impossibly blue sky, the dark ribbon of road. He thought through the information he had been given, considering his options. Then, chilled to the heart, he turned and went back to Asia.

  In this world there was no light, no shadow, no color, no shape. There was only the sound—constant, unchanging, bone-deep—filling her ears, her lungs, her body with a never-ending hum. Around her she was dimly aware of movement, of air brushing past her face, as if someone had walked nearby. She tried to respond, struggling to lift her eyelids, or a finger. They were as heavy and inert as mud.

  She slept.

  And woke again. The sound was still there, making her bones vibrate. Other noises swirled in the air around her—snatches of conversation in a language she could not understand, the clink of glass and metal, the crackle of plastic, the whisper of fabric. Someone touched her, moved her. Still she could not force her eyes to open, could not force her lips to move or her throat to utter a sound. She was suspended, caught like a fly in amber. Abstractly, she thought she should feel panic, rage, something.

  All she felt was a mild, disconnected curiosity. And tired. So very tired.

  She drifted back into sleep.

  A hand touched her face, brushed the hair from her forehead. Rough fingers, warm. A voice. A man. Very close.

  “Hey. You’ve had a tough time, sweetheart, but you’re almost home. We’ll have you back to your family soon, and you won’t even know you’ve been gone.”

  “Three minutes to jump, Cap.”

  “Thanks, crewman. I’ll be right there.”

  “You know she can’t hear you, Sam. And I’ve never seen you take this kind of interest in the cargo before. What’s the story?”

  “First of all, they aren’t cargo. You of all people should know that, Doc. Besides, this one is special. Rayna gave up a lot to get this one out. I’m gonna make sure she gets back home if I have to set her down in her living room myself.”

  Another touch. “Just a few minutes more, Sphinx. I’ll get you there, I promise.”

  “Captain Murphy?”

  “Coming. Time?”

  “Jay minus sixty.”

  The voices grew fainter, then disappeared altogether. There was nothing but the hum for an unknown time. She drifted again, until she was suddenly aware of movement, lots of it, jostling and shaking and turning her body against the pull of gravity until she wasn’t certain just where that pull was coming from. She floated, weightless. Then she slammed heavily against the restraints that held her. There was no pain—there should be pain, she thought disjointedly—just that odd sensation of being jerked around by an unseen force.

  She heard the shriek of alarms. A call, brassy and loud, booming from every direction: “Battle stations! This is not a drill! All hands to battle stations!”

  Then voices, shouting, shrill. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Gray destroyer was waiting for us when we came out of the jump.” More jostling, throwing her abruptly against the restraints. “Shit! We’re taking a beating.”

  “Get this sickbay ready for casualties, stat! What are you standing around for—you act like this is your first time in a fight, Korda!”

  Closer, almost in her ear. “Sorry, hon. You’ll have to wait a little longer to get home.”

  “Shit, if we don’t beat these assholes off in record time, she’s liable to get home with a lot of explaining to do. We’re already running late.”

  “Damn it. Time’s almost up on her meds, too.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Giving her a little more joy juice. Can’t take a chance on her waking up in the middle of all of this. Sleep well, sweetie. See you on the other side. If any of us make it.”

  I sat up with a jerk, my heart crashing against my ribs, my breath rasping in and out of my throat. It was a moment before I realized my eyes were open and I could, in fact, see. The big, open room. The fire, dying down to ruddy embers. Ethan, awake now and up on one elbow, staring at me in concern.

  “What’s wrong?” His voice was still thick with sleep.

  “A ship. I . . . I think I was on a ship. And I was coming home.”

  “What kind of ship?”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t see anything. I could only hear them talking. And I could hear . . . the engines, I guess.” I looked down at him. “Now you will think I’m nuts. The dialogue was like something out of Battlestar Galactica.”

  Ethan reached out to take my hand. “Tell me what you remember.”

  When I had finished, my gaze met his. “That’s the last piece, isn’t it? It even explains the three hours.”

  He nodded. “They were trying to bring you back to the same moment you were taken, but got caught in some kind of battle.” He smiled. “You’re right, though. It does sound a little far-fetched. Travel across space and time. Beings from advanced civilizations fighting it out on our doorstep.”

  “Beings,” I repeated. “Advanced civilizations. You know, it’s funny, but these people sounded just like you and me. Dozen was human, just like we are. They aren’t the ones that took me. I still don’t really remember the ones that took me.”

  Ethan reached up and drew me down into his arms. “Advanced or not, the universe still seems to be broken down into good guys and bad guys. Thank God the good guys found you. And brought you back home to me.”

  Three hours too late. I started to shake in Ethan’s arms. Those hours had cost me so much.

  “What is it?” He refused to relinquish his hold on me.

  “I wanted someone else to blame.” The misery that had remained buried deep in my heart was suddenly rising through my chest to choke me. “Now I don’t even have that.”

  Ethan pulled back and tipped my face up to his. “So, now what? You want to blame yourself for what happened to your children? After everything you’ve learned?”

  “I wasn’t there, Ethan. I should have been there.”

  “Asia, you had no control over what happened to you or your children.” His eyes wer
e bright with righteous anger. “You were abducted, and despite the best efforts of your rescuers, you weren’t returned in time to save the ones you loved. I hate to say this, but it is possible you might not have saved them even if you’d been in the house.”

  He paused to let his meaning sink in. When he continued, his voice was softer, his expression warm with compassion.

  “We can’t control everything that happens to us, Asia. Even blaming the ones that took you would be a useless exercise.”

  That much I could understand. The ones who had taken me remained faceless, untouchable.

  “Maybe you’re right.” I sank back into his arms, tired of a search for answers that only seemed to bring me pain. Maybe it was easier to try to believe it was all meant to happen the way it did, as horribly, wretchedly painful as that was.

  Yeah, and maybe it was better not to think about what might or might not be part of the Big Plan, for fear of tempting Fate to make some modifications.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The next morning I cooked up the last of our eggs and bread for breakfast and took stock of what was left in the pantry for the rest of the day.

  “We’re good on peanut butter, babe, but we’ll have to eat it out of the jar,” I reported. “There is a can of tuna fish, though, and a box of noodles. Oh, and a bottle of wine. So dinner’s a go.”

  Ethan smiled. “Are you telling me we need to make a grocery run?”

  “That depends.” I turned serious. “Just how long were we planning to stay?”

  He avoided my gaze and got up to get himself another cup of coffee. “Long enough to be sure you’re safe.”

  “Ethan, you have patients who need you back home. My job may be history, but yours doesn’t have to be.”

  “It’s only been a few days.” He took up a post leaning against a counter, rather than coming to sit down at the table with me again. “Cindy will handle things until I get back. I could even give Arthur another call if that’ll make you feel better.” The look on his face made it obvious that was about the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

  “Didn’t Amanda say Arthur’s planning to be out of the office himself for a few days?”

  When Ethan still wouldn’t look at me, I got up and stood in front of him, knee to knee, hip to hip. I put my hands on his waist and smiled up at him, enjoying the feel of him molded to my body in all the right places, warm and so enticingly male.

  “Hey. I’m in no hurry to lose this.” I pressed closer to let him know what I meant. “But you know as well as I do we can’t stay here forever. We’re out of cash; I’ll have to use the credit card today. If those guys are still looking for us, they’ll find us eventually. Might as well fight them on our home turf, what d’you say? Maybe call the FBI or somebody.”

  “And what if these guys are the FBI? Or they just think we’re crazy?”

  “We’ve already determined they’re not.” I grinned up at him. “The second part is your department.”

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be the first psychiatrist to exhibit symptoms.”

  “Okay,” I said with a sigh. “But we’ve got to do something. They’ve already looked for us in Nashville. Maybe there’s some advantage to hiding in plain sight while we get some help on this.”

  He slid his hands around my back and pulled me closer. “How did you get so damn smart?” He bent his head to kiss me, his tongue slipping past my parted lips to carry a taste of coffee and his own special sweetness into my mouth. He stopped after a while to wrap me in his arms and hold me for a long, silent moment. Then he pulled back to look at me.

  “It should take them at least two or three days to find us once we use the credit card. Another couple of days in paradise. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Sounds like heaven to me, baby.”

  For the first time since our arrival at the camp, we decided to divide up the work that morning. I went into town to do the shopping while he stayed behind to take advantage of the clear weather to tackle the fallen trees that were crowding the driveway. I kissed him goodbye and left him swearing at a cranky old chainsaw while I hit town to run the errands we had neglected for the week we’d been at the lake—food, gas, cash.

  It took me longer than I expected. By the time I made it back, the afternoon shadows were beginning to edge out over the road as I turned down the drive toward the house. The downed trees were gone, and, as I pulled into the yard, I saw Ethan dumping a wheelbarrow-load of freshly cut logs next to a woodpile in the back of the clearing.

  Before I began to unload the groceries, I went to admire my sweaty workman. “Damn, boy. You sure do know how to work a chainsaw.”

  He turned from the respectable pile of wood to grin at me, and I must admit my heart tripped. This was a whole new look for the man I’d come to know. His oldest, most comfortable jeans hugged his hips and long legs, showing fades and creases and wear in all the right places. An ancient thermal shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, just barely tucking into a heavy work belt slung below his waist, making me want to pull it out to reach the skin underneath. Very woodsy and, uh, primal.

  He arched an eyebrow at me. “What? You thought I was the kind of guy who never got his hands dirty?”

  “If I’d known you were so good at manual labor I would have thought up some stuff for you to do long before now.” I laughed, unable to resist teasing him. “You want some lunch?”

  “In a little while maybe. I’m going to take care of a couple of old snags threatening the boathouse while the weather holds.” He squinted up at the sky, which had begun to show a few streaming clouds. “Should be done in less than an hour.”

  Good thing, too, because he just might be on the menu when I got ready for lunch. “Okay. I’m going to put the groceries away. See you later, Paul Bunyan.”

  I got the groceries into the kitchen and went to work putting them away. I’m not sure when I became aware that a car was coming down the driveway. My mind was on other things—lunch; what might come after; even, in the back of my consciousness, the need to plan for the trip back to Nashville. I wasn’t expecting a visitor. So when I looked up from stashing the plastic bags under the sink, it was as if the car, a nondescript gray rental sedan, had just appeared in the yard.

  I pulled in a breath so sharp it was nearly a scream.

  I backed up to the kitchen counter, my eyes on the car, my hands feeling behind me for the knife I knew was in the dish rack. My hand closed on the handle, and I made myself breathe.

  There was no back door in the house. To get to Ethan, I’d have to go out a window from a back bedroom. He couldn’t have seen the car from the boathouse, and I was sure he couldn’t have heard it; the chainsaw was going again.

  I started to turn for the back hallway when I saw the car door open. Only one man emerged, and my jaw dropped when I saw who it was. Dr. Arthur Claussen heaved his bulk out of the driver’s seat and stood for a moment gazing at the house.

  What the hell?

  Despite the fact that it must have been obvious Ethan was the one running the noisy chainsaw in back, Claussen walked deliberately up the path and clumped up the stairs to the porch. Frozen in place in the kitchen, I watched him do it. And even though I knew it was the inevitable consequence of his actions, I flinched when I heard the knock on the door that meant he wanted to come in.

  It was only when I heard him speak my name that I moved to answer the door.

  “Asia? It’s Arthur Claussen. I’d like to speak with you. Please.”

  With me? He wants to speak with me?

  Feeling like I was swimming to the door through a sea of cold molasses, I forced myself to put the knife down and leave the sanctuary of the kitchen. My body wasn’t responding to the commands of my brain in the usual way, or maybe it was that my brain wasn’t giving any commands at all. All I could think was that this was the end of everything. I couldn’t fight Claussen with the knife like I could have fought the Men in Black. He was a threat on an e
ntirely different scale.

  My hand reached out and turned the knob, and the door swung open. The old man stood on the other side of the screen door, an unlikely smile on his face. The chainsaw still buzzed in the background, making it necessary for Claussen to raise his voice.

  “Asia. I’m so glad to see you. You look well. May I come in?”

  By some miracle I found a reply. “Dr. Claussen. Ethan’s around back, if you’d like to see him.”

  “Actually, I’d like to speak to you in private, Asia, if you don’t mind. Before I see Ethan.”

  My heart turned to stone and dropped like a dead weight into the black pit of my stomach, leaving nothing but a bleeding hole in my chest. I knew with blinding certainty what he would say to me, what he would demand of me. Worse, I knew what my answer had to be. I stood aside to let him in.

  Claussen’s critical gaze swept the room before returning to my face. “You realize what you and Ethan are doing is quite inappropriate.”

  “What we’re doing?” Though I knew what he was talking about, I couldn’t seem to keep from baiting him.

  “Don’t play coy with me, Asia.” He waved at the bed. The kitchen. All of it. “You are Ethan’s patient. Even if you are not familiar with the rules, he is. I could have him before a review board based on no more than what I see right now, and he would never practice psychiatry again. Is that what you want for him?”

  What I wanted was going to mean nothing to Claussen, that much was certain. How I played this was going to mean everything.

  When I didn’t reply, he went on. “I can tell you it would be a great loss to his other patients, who depend on him. It would be a huge disappointment for me personally, since I consider him a protégé, someone I had hoped would someday take over my practice and further my research.” He paused, watching me. “Do you have nothing at all to say?”

  I glared at him, defiance warring with crippling pain in what was left of my heart. “I suppose the fact that we love each other would have no bearing on the matter?”