by Lilly Cain
John rotated in his seat to observe the vid panel on the conference room wall. The seamless flow of information across its microthin surface wasn’t new. He was aware the Inarrii weren’t the only nonhumans in the area, but it was surprising that information on the number of craft now visible on the outer edges of the galaxy wasn’t spread across every news vid on the planet. There were a lot of them, far too many. These had to be the Raveners that the Inarrii had warned would follow in their wake, looking for any undefended planet whose resources were up for the taking. They were moving in, faster than anyone had expected, at least according to the scrolling data.
John turned back to the CIC. She was a tall, thin-boned woman, almost raw in her severity, but the commander-in-chief held more power than most people could dream of. Their eyes met.
He made a slight nod. “The terrorist group Terran Purity—they are still confirmed as the driving force behind the recent attacks on the Inarrii and the negotiating boards?”
“Yes, but intel from several sources has indicated that the Raveners, in particular the Gathan, a high-tech race rejected by the Confederacy and probably bearing a grudge, have been secretly supplying Terran Purity with advanced firepower.” She nodded at the screen, where a picture of a blue-skinned being flickered across the surface, followed by several weapons schematics. “Your recent spacewalk confirmed it.”
John studied a nasty-looking laser cannon. “That could rip a hole right through a shuttle.”
“Exactly.” The CIC slid a small metallic item toward him. “This is a little something new of our own. A portable force shield. I hope you don’t need to give it a trial run any time soon.”
John picked the tiny generator up, noted the thumbprint and DNA control on the end. They would have already keyed it to his pattern. That they would give him a prototype defense item underlined the gravity and the danger inherent in his mission. “You expect further attacks.”
“Yes. Intel has indicated not only increasing frontal assaults of the type we’ve seen over the last month but also more insidious strikes against the negotiation personnel of both the Inarrii and the human contingents.” She snapped off the vid and turned away, taking her seat behind the huge mahogany desk against the back wall of the conference room. “There are only two steps left before the Treaty is complete. The Human Accord—the agreement of every major human political party to go ahead with the Treaty—and the Treaty signing itself.” She rubbed the back of her neck, a rare expression of worry and a real measure of the increasing danger.
“While we’ve taken every precaution, upgraded every level of security, we know there’ll be more attacks, and that some may succeed. But no one will be aware of your presence. No one but myself and your immediate commander. You’ll be there, standing shoulder to shoulder with the men and women who are building our future in the galaxy. You’ll ensure that they’ve got their chance.”
John stood. “Understood.” He turned to leave but she caught his attention with a small sound, the simple clearing of her throat.
“Special Agent Norton. One last thing. The Inarrii know nothing of your position. But your cover, along with every other human legal representative, has been assigned an Inarrii bodyguard. They, like us, are taking no chances.”
John nodded. The complication was minor. “I’m sure they’ve done what they see as aid for us without completely taxing their resources. A bodyguard is not a problem.”
“Let’s hope not, Agent. There can be no distractions, and no interference with your mission.”
* * *
First impressions could say a lot about a person, but observation of a subject when he was at ease, following a routine he was familiar with, told far more. Sarina studied her charge carefully as he worked. The meeting had been in session for an hour since the last intermission. She’d been introduced briefly to John Bennings by the captain of the Osprey during their meal break. Benning’s handshake had been firm, and his height and muscular frame belied a life of facts and figures. With his powerful, lean muscles, his body spoke more of the strength brought on by hard exercise, perhaps even some human form of hand-to-hand combat. It also spoke softly, seductively of sex.
His hands were long-fingered. He wore a well-tailored white shirt and dark pants, but he’d turned back the cuffs on his sleeves almost to his elbows. Fine, light brown hairs along his exposed forearms caught her attention and held it as she considered where else he might have such silken decoration. He wore the hair on his head short, not like the long locks of a male Inarrii warrior. But there was something about the way he carried himself. He reminded her of someone.
“And that’s enough for today. Thank you everyone. We’ll meet again tomorrow.” The human chairman stood up from the meeting table. “I’ll remind you that we have two weeks until the next meeting of the Treaty negotiation boards. We’ve been making good progress, but there is still a long way to go to finalize the agreements on Earth before the signing of the first Intergalactic Treaty.” He smiled, but clearly the rest of the team had been dismissed.
The lawyers and legal aids began shuffling about, most packing up their datapads and styluses or tapping shut their coms. Not Bennings. He sat still as the rest moved on as a pack, the humans and their unobtrusive Inarrii guards. She watched him watching them until her gaze caught his attention.
He studied her and she returned the look. His eyes were a soft gray, not blue or brown like the few humans she’d met so far, and no where near her own verdant green, the most common Inarrii color. His eyes were beautiful. And it didn’t matter.
She broke the connection and looked around the room, scanning the exits and the few people still within the area.
“Sergeant Tariim.” He used the human equivalent of her Inarrii rank of Soryen and he spoke softly, but she caught the deep timbre of his voice beyond its hushed tones. “I’m beat. I’m going back to my quarters. I won’t be going anywhere, so you can stand down. Get settled in. I’m sure they’ve quartered you somewhere near my rooms.”
He’d gotten close to her without making a sound. She’d been aware of his movements, but if she hadn’t been paying attention, would she have even noticed that he’d stepped closer, let alone come within striking distance of her? Interesting. Even the spongy shoes most humans wore on board ship usually made some noise. Their height was close; she looked directly into his eyes without shifting her stance. A quick flicker of awareness passed over her. For an instant she wondered if he could have some form of m’ittar; it was common knowledge that some humans had proven their ability to share thoughts and emotions, at least to some degree. This is what made them such attractive possible members for the Confederacy.
“Actually, I have had our rooms reassigned. Our quarters are now on the third deck, sector two.” She stated the fact and ignored the flash of attraction that raced through her as she inhaled his muted scent. He smelled of fresh rain along the beach line of her home world. Like an ocean breeze.
“Reassigned.” His eyes took on a steely note. “You’ve had our rooms reassigned together? As in, sharing the rooms?”
“We have adjoining quarters. I cannot guard you from the opposite end of the ship. I will not be…settling in. My shift doesn’t end until the Treaty is compete and I am transferred.”
For a moment she thought he might argue with her. A tiny line of tension formed along the corner of his full mouth. She took a quick breath as the old excitement flickered through her muscles. A fight would be good. A little excitement on a surely boring tour of duty. Perhaps if it became physical they would send her back to the Horneu. And what would you do there? a silent voice whispered within her.
But he broke off eye contact, lowered his gaze to flicker briefly over her body before he nodded. “Fine. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”
He’d deferred to her. A strange feeling of disappointment settled into her stom
ach. She shook her head and led the way out of the conference room and through the corridor to the ship’s central lift. What did she think a data-shuffling tech would do, challenge her for dominance? Maybe she was already beginning to lose her mind. She needed his compliance if she expected to protect him. In a dangerous situation, she had to know he would follow her lead. She considered the slight hesitation, the line of tension beside his mouth before he’d accepted the room change. Perhaps he would follow her. Perhaps not. As long as it didn’t get to that point it didn’t matter, and after the mind-numbingly boring meeting she’d just observed, surely no one would be interested in attacking this level of tedious bureaucracy.
Chapter Two
Another speech. Sarina held back the groan that threatened to rumble free of her throat. The second call for assembly chimed on the comm, and she caught John Bennings staring at her, waiting for her to make a move toward the hallway that would take them to the common galley. She considered skipping the assembly, telling her charge that it was too risky to attend every meeting, but as she thought about it, he seemed to hone in on her hesitation. He raised an eyebrow at her, a smile hinting at the corner of his mouth.
He knew she was bored. It had to be easy to see, despite the fact that she tried to keep it discreet. All she had to hear was another rousing speech on why the humans were making the monumental effort to agree on the Treaty and form the first-ever Human Accord and she would lose her patience completely. Apparently, humans never agreed on anything when there were more than a dozen of them in a room. Two days of observing the legal ramblings that preceded the Accord were enough proof of that. Of course, a warring race could mean more warriors to join the Inarrii clans.
Sarina took a deep breath before she made the first step toward the common galley. Anything that inspired the humans to complete their work and be ready, finally, to sign a Treaty with the Confederacy would be worth it.
“At least it won’t be another minor religious dignitary weighing in on how they’ve been predicting this moment for decades.” John’s whisper would barely be audible to a human; she was the only Inarrii in the area. His words told her he was already aware of her decision to take him to the meeting. His inflection told her he understood how little she wanted to attend. She didn’t respond, but he continued anyway. “I heard the new Inarrii ambassador team is speaking today.”
Sarina sucked in a breath. The ambassador team would include former examiner Asler Kiis and his new mate, a human pilot—the same one who’d been part of the cause of her injury. Her anger had abated about the human captain, especially since her trial had revealed how badly she’d been tortured and how bravely she had acted, but the idea of seeing her in person again, now healed and on the arm of a powerful Inarrii lover, was not a happy one.
“What’s wrong?” John’s whisper was louder, closer. He’d moved to walk closer to her, and she realized that she was projecting her anxiety. Even if he couldn’t sense her m’ittar, he could probably recognize the displeasure in her expression.
She relaxed and glanced over at him. He seemed concerned, but he quickly cleared his face as the hallway began to fill with people.
“It’s nothing.”
“Asler Kiis…he was once an Examiner…a lawyer of sorts?”
She gave a short, barking laugh. “You could say that, but I do not think it applies in the way you think. Examiners are lawyers, judges, executioners. They are therapists and warriors. Healers, occasionally.”
“Healers?”
They were almost at the entrance of the common area. She scanned the room and the gathering of people. This would be a perfect moment for an attack, with many of the negotiators gathered here, and the most recognizable human/Inarrii couple to date as speakers. People feared the result of the mating. Although no child could be born of the couple, ideas were spreading.
She motioned to the corner of the room, close to an escape route, should one be necessary. Bennings followed her direction, something she didn’t think about until they were seated. She’d used wordless military hand signals; Bennings had recognized and followed her instructions without a single second guess.
As the noise from the small crowd increased, she leaned in closer to her charge. “The Examiners sometimes work to heal minds.”
“And now he’s partnered with a woman who was tortured, but he isn’t an Examiner anymore. Must be difficult.”
Sarina studied John’s face. A tiny line of tension spoke of something in his past that might not like being tied to a partner who couldn’t hold his or her own. “Captain Branscombe has been healed. They would not be mated otherwise. And although Kiis cannot hold the position of Examiner, since he was forced to expose memories during her trial, the talent is part of him. No doubt they make for an excellent team.”
“Perhaps.” His lips pressed tightly together. Sarina recognized the look. He had memories, and sorrows, of his own.
* * *
This was a colossal mistake. Day three into the most uneventful mission he’d ever experienced, and he’d succumbed to the urge to do something. Anything. But this had probably been the worst choice he could have made.
John stared across the room at Sarina’s taut body. She was experimenting with the human weight machines. It was clear she could handle herself; that showed in the way she walked and held herself, with an ease born of years of combat training. He’d read her dossier, knew the number of battles she’d participated in. But upon seeing her bench-press more than he could have done back in the days when he’d actually cared for muscle mass over speed, the point was driven home.
If he took this to the next level, tried her out in the ring with some simple sparring, she might even kick his ass. But that was something he couldn’t risk anyway. Bad enough coming into the gym, but sparring in public would definitely do damage to his cover. What kind of lawyer fought hand to hand with his bodyguard? None. But he’d seen the way she looked longingly at the padded mats. A couple of guys grappled on the blue pads, tossing each other and working to perfect their karate falls. She missed the action as much as he did. Or maybe she just wanted the men.
John pushed harder against the weight machine, thrusting his strength and frustration into his workout. While he would never actively wish for action, he’d had a lot of time to think. And since he’d gone over his mission a hundred times in the last two days, he didn’t have much to think about except Sarina. She was staring at the sparring ring, absently rubbing her hand over the upper biceps of her other arm. The man in him admired her body; the agent wondered what she was thinking and whether she knew how often she touched the scars on her arm and shoulder.
He let go of the weights, forgetting for a moment that in the accelerated gravity of the gym they would drop with a heavy clank. He sensed Sarina’s eyes on him, could practically feel her getting closer.
“Are you growing tired?” Her voice sounded calm, uncensored, but he wondered if she was amused at the “lawyer” giving up so soon.
“No, but I am getting a little bored. I prefer to run for exercise, but there isn’t space on board the ship.”
“You could use the running machine.”
He glanced over at the treadmill. “It’s not the same.”
“I understand. Nothing moves. Everything stays the same around you. There is no challenge.”
“Exactly.” John studied her. She surprised him again with another astute observation. That was exactly why he hated the treadmill. He’d just never thought about it before. Of course, he’d never had time to think about it before.
“We could hit the sheets.”
“What?” That thought had his full attention.
“The sheets? The fighting sheets over there?”
“Ah. I think your English finally ran out. Those are mats. Fighting ring. Not sheets. Sheets are bed coverings.”
Sh
e didn’t blush over her mistake, although he could see immediately that she understood what she’d implied. The Inarrii were hardly embarrassed by sexual innuendos. But the lines on her neck and exposed arms rippled, reminding him they were not the brownish tattoos they resembled. They were L’inar, sensory nerve lines that covered most of her body. They could be indicating sexual desire. Or anger, or any strong emotion.
John turned away from their hypnotic movement and gathered his brains back from the southward direction they’d fled to, thinking of hitting the sheets—hell, hitting anything with Sarina. Any place, any time. He’d already imagined wrestling with her on the mats, building up heat and sweat until their skin became slippery…
“Are you well, Mr. Bennings?”
“Ah, I think I’m tired after all. Perhaps we should return to the rooms. I have some work to do.” John began to wipe himself down with a small towel. A shower, a cold shower, was definitely in order.
Sarina followed him as he moved toward the gym exit. She hadn’t even broken a sweat. “Exercise is important, Mr. Bennings.”
“John, please.”
“John. Perhaps you need a sparring partner.”
The words were a bit too close to his thoughts. “I prefer to work alone.” He walked on, having memorized the maze of ship corridors before he’d come on board.
She followed, not commenting. He realized for the first time in days she was letting him lead, and wondered if she’d realized he knew his way around the ship as well as she did. He considered how many ways he might have given her hints over the last couple of days that he was not who he pretended to be. The thought cooled him faster than a cold shower.
He made a motion to open the door to their suite.
She stopped him before he could toggle the entry. “Me first, Mr. Bennings. You know the rules.”
He let her take the lead. Face any danger that might be there. It was her job, after all. But it was weird. He hadn’t trusted anyone in years and every time she put herself in front of him, he felt…displaced. It was his cover, but he preferred to trust only himself.