Ride the Stars

by Autumn Dawn

  RIDE THE STARS

  Autumn Dawn

  (c) copyright December 2002, Autumn Beaudreault

  Cover art (c) December 2002, Eliza Black

  New Concepts Publishing

  4729 Humphreys Rd.

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  ncp@newconceptspublishing.com

  Chapter 1

  Lunar Base, 2785

  Her tea had gone cold.

  The control panel beeped. Jaide shot it a look of dislike and closed her eyes.

  “Your turn,” she told her companion, Sesame. Arms crossed and feet propped up on a box under the control panel, she continued to half-doze. The flight control computer beeped again, and she cracked a midnight blue eye, nudged the sleeping Sesame none-too-gently with her booted toe.

  Sesame came half-awake. “It was my turn last time,” she mumbled. “Don’t try to con me.”

  Jaide sent her a dirty look but dropped her feet to the floor and sat up. Her nearly empty cup thumped down on the stool next to the console as she stared at the blinking blue light, not entirely sure what to do with it. Swamp stink; after working for two shifts straight, going on three, she wasn’t entirely sure she could still find her own numb behind without help, let alone run traffic control for the entire base.

  Unfortunately, there was no one else.

  “Base control,” she snarled into her headset, flipping a toggle like it was a finger. “What do you want?”

  Sesame muffled a snort of laughter as a surprised male voice answered doubtfully, “Permission to enter.”

  Grumbling, knowing she was being a grouch, Jaide scanned the readouts, looking for nasty surprises. There had been a rash of terrorist takeovers and sabotage lately, and the respective lunar governments had cracked down on safety protocol, even on remote bases such as this one. The regular controller, Rob Jackson, had drilled her ad nauseam on safety procedures, so fortunately she could do it even in her sleep. Heck, if she was stuck up here in the tower any longer, she might be doing just that.

  “Great, I’m starting to see things,” Jaide muttered.

  Sesame rolled her head to stare at her. “What?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut to clear her vision. “I thought I saw an abnormality on the readouts, but it’s not there now.” A quick check of the data revealed nothing.

  More animate now, Sesame sat up and double checked her findings. “I don’t see anything.”

  The name and registry of the ship was nothing to get excited about, just a run of the mill transport, and a scheduled one at that. Still, the remote possibility of action left Jaide feeling slightly more alert.

  “Are we clear, control?” the voice asked again, somewhat impatiently.

  “Give me a minute, will you?” she snapped. Her hand reached for the release switch. Something stopped her. Closing her eyes, she debated with herself and opened a channel to security. “Whoever’s on duty, I had a blip on my screen. Might be just sleep deprivation, but I’m covering my butt. Send someone to check it out, would you?” She toggled off, changed her mind and flipped it on again. “And send someone to take over here; we’re no longer competent.”

  Static hissed over the wires. “We don’t have anyone qualified here! Everyone’s still too sick to come back on duty. We can’t just dream up more experienced volunteers!”

  “Then let them rot outside the doors!” she roared, incensed. “I’m going to bed!” A click of the switch turned off the sputtering protests coming over the wires, another coded open the shield doors. She rolled her neck, popping out the kinks, then rose as the huge doors slid open above her to allow the ship to enter the dim bay. It flowed through the particle field that separated the lunar bay’s breathable air from that of empty space, coming to rest with minimal use of thrusters. The doors sealed shut above it, locking it in the unnaturally still bay. For a moment she stared in appreciative surprise, fatigue fuzzing her brain and making her a trifle stupid. Sleek and black, of military design. Whoever was hitching a ride in that thing had connections.

  Then enlightenment dawned, and she swore silently at herself. “That’s not a transport,” she muttered under her breath.

  Sesame heard her and glanced out the window. Her oath was even fouler than Jaide’s had been. One agitated hand shoved back the brown hair that had fallen in her eyes. “Another military ship.” Disgusted, she shook her head. “That paranoid governor is wasting his taxpayer’s money, sending another ship to search for saboteurs in this dinky little backwater hole.”

  Jaide’s answer was a grim nod. Their visitors had jammed the port’s instruments to gain the element of surprise, just like the last two had done-not that she’d been unfortunate enough to be on duty then. Good thing, too, she thought, snorting softly. Both captains had run riot all over the men who had been. As if anyone on such a small base had the equipment to detect them!

  “We’d better go while the getting’s good,” Jaide said, snatching her black suede jacket from the back of her peeling, synthetic leather seat. As soon as she shrugged it on over her black t-shirt, she helped lock down the controls. “I’m not going to take a butt chewing for volunteering my time.”

  “Why do I feel like a guilty kid sneaking away from a lecture?” Sesame complained as she searched in the pocket of her brown and white checked shirt. Finding nothing there, she delved into the pocket of the white tank under it. Gum located, she popped the licorice-flavored stick in her mouth, then punched in her own shut down code.

  As she finished, Jaide glanced with gritty eyes out the plasglass separating the second story command center from the concrete and steel cavern that was the spaceship parking lot. A sneezing volunteer soldier in brown was already making his somewhat uneven way towards the ship.

  A stab of sympathy hit her for the poor volunteer, who obviously suffered from either the beginning or the end of the horrible flu that had practically leveled all personnel in the compound. If he had been in the thick of the illness, he wouldn’t still be stumbling around. Instead, he was one of the walking dead like her, forced to deal with a job better left in the hands of an expert.

  With a hiss of compressed air, the ramp opened, smoothing the way for its disembarking passengers.

  Sesame and Jaide reached the bottom of the grated steel stairs at almost the same time the guard reached the newcomers. The leader turned his head towards her.

  Murky light shivered off his standard issue blast glasses. Not a breath of air stirred his long black coat. Too tired to wonder at someone wearing shades inside a docking bay lit only by emergency lights, she shuffled off to bed.

  Skye D’rath glanced at the women making their way out of the echoing docking bay as his captain dealt with the boy soldier. They’d come for Sesame Calais, but it was the woman at her side who drew his attention. At that moment she reached up to free her light brown hair from its tail, causing her jacket to ride up and revealing one of the choicest rear views he’d ever had the privilege of viewing. He couldn’t help but smile as she raked her hands through her hair and secured it back in the band, never noting her appreciative audience.

  Faded blue pants hugged athletic legs, showcasing shapely limbs every bit as lovely as her backside. He’d only caught a glimpse of her face as she’d descended the stairs but he’d recognized it from her picture. Jaide Calanarre, Calais’ best friend and business partner.

  Returning his attention to the spot faced boy in front of them, he suppressed a smile as his captain asked in his most pleasant tone, “Is there a problem?”

  The boy lost two shades of color. “N-no. No, sir. I just need to make a random check of your ship. S-standard policy. Sorry.”

  He looked sorry.

  “At your convenience.” Nemesis ge
stured to the ship, encompassing his two crew mates and the spectral glow of white light emanating from above the ramp.

  The boy took one look at them and gulped. “Ah, right.”

  It was the quickest inspection on record.

  Jaide had her hand on the door controls to her room when a gravely voice called, “Sesame Calais.” Already at her own door, Sesame stiffened, then groaned and dropped her head to the door panel with a soft clunk. Jaide heartily agreed. Within seconds of falling on her bed and already fate conspired against them. Resigned, she glanced at the intruders, gulped. “Uh, Ses?”

  “Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Sesame mumbled into the cool metal, looking as if she was tempted to fall asleep right there. With a little huff of effort, she straightened up and punched in the security code, not even glancing at her callers. Jaide opened her mouth to warn her, but the leader of the men from the newly arrived starship beat her to the punch.

  “It’s about a job.”

  Jaide knew how Sesame thought, and she had a good guess what she was doing now. If she didn’t turn around, she wouldn’t see whoever was bothering her, wouldn’t have to deal with another arrogant captain demanding her services. Unacknowledged, the irritant would disappear.

  Only it didn’t.

  As Sesame stepped over her threshold, so did the man behind her. Men, Jaide corrected herself, slipping in behind the trio and moving just behind her friend. Using Sesame’s body as a screen, she slipped her ever-present blaster from its thigh holster, gripping it with the barrel pointed up. Her eyes fastened on the leader. One wrong move and he’d find himself without a head.

  The one on top, if she was feeling nice.

  Wearing an expression of extreme annoyance, Sesame turned to boot them out. As the door hissed shut behind them and she got her first look at the invaders, she checked.

  ‘Bout time, Jaide thought, a touch exasperated. Chill fingers of apprehension tripped up her spine. She just hoped it didn’t come down to a direct confrontation. A ninja master she was not.

  Clad in black denim and long coats capable of disguising any number of weapons, their jet hair gleaming with good health, the soldiers stared at them through dark glasses that hid their eyes.

  A comforting vision they were not.

  Seemingly unimpressed, Sesame crossed her arms and stared up at the menacing leader. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m in need of augmentation for my ship,” he informed her in the deep, gravely voice that was his people’s trademark. “You are the best, therefore I require you.”

  Jaide’s eyes widened at his audacity. With a great deal of difficultly she clamped her teeth shut against the pointed retort begging to clear her throat. Sesame could handle him better without her interference.

  Sesame stifled a jaw popping yawn, fiercely blinked her smarting, blood-shot eyes. “Come back after I’ve had a day or so of sleep, all right? I’m in no mood to discuss—”

  “There is nothing to discuss. I understand you have a standard contract. Produce it and I will sign it.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could open her mouth, he whipped off his glasses in a move guaranteed to unnerve and stepped into her space.

  For a moment Jaide gaped at his topaz irises. A darted glance at the others, who took the opportunity to remove their own glasses, revealed matching, and very alien, eyes. Draconians!

  Jaide didn’t know what these three were doing so far from Antarctica, unless... Rogue warriors? She hoped not, but still...Wariness redoubling, she braced herself for action.

  Before Jaide could tip her hand, Sesame reached around and discreetly gripped her arm, telling her silently to wait. She was still in control.

  Desperately longing to argue, Jaide deliberately shifted her focus. For the first time she really looked at the others. The first one was a little shorter than his companions, though still quite a looker. His short black hair curled like fleece, yet gleamed with the look of silk. Warm gold lights glinted off the ring in his earlobe, matching the unique amber of his Draconian eyes.

  The second...She got no further.

  Ruthless topaz eyes with amber facets stared back at her, glowing with an inner fire. Of a height and build with his captain, she couldn’t have said right away why she gaped at him when she should have been watching his boss.

  Sure, the alien was sinfully good looking. Unlike the others with their cropped cuts, his midnight hair flowed freely to his shoulders, unbound by any tie. Both his jaw and cheekbones were well defined with masculine strength, yet promisingly sensual. So good looking was he, it took a moment to register his bewitching lips held the slightest of amused curves. With a knowing flick of his magnificent gaze towards her hidden hand he told her he knew of the gun.

  Unnerved, she took a half step back, then set her jaw. So he knew. So what?

  “I have five captains already standing in line for—”

  “I’ll double your fee.”

  That got Jaide’s attention. He was talking about a mind boggling amount of money. Even with the generous salary their customers paid them, she never could get used to that kind of cash.

  Sesame looked at him, hard. “It’s not pocket change, pal.” His expression didn’t change, and Sesame finally glanced away. Moving towards the desk jammed in the corner of her small living room, she called up the contract on her computer screen, thoughtlessly exposing Jaide and her drawn blaster.

  The Draconian didn’t seem surprised. The long haired one’s lips twitched.

  Trying not to feel stupid, Jaide returned a cool look and holstered her blaster. After all, it didn’t seem as if she needed to cook anyone just now.

  Finished, Sesame moved away from the cheap resin desk, gestured for the leader to inspect it. “Look it over. It’s non-negotiable.” An inclination with her head told Jaide to follow into her room. Without looking at the Draconian, Sesame tossed over her shoulder, “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

  With a wary glance at Sesame’s uninvited guests, Jaide followed her into the bedroom and locked the door. Then she unleashed her tongue.

  “Are you nuts?” she demanded, following Sesame as the woman grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the shower. “How can you just hop under the spray like there’s not a pack of crazy Dracs in the next room?”

  Sesame paused with one hand on the door and gave her a look. “Well, I asked them nicely once, but they just didn’t leave,” she retorted, batting her eyes. Closing the door, she said through the hollow resin, “Besides, I stink.” Jaide heard the water turn on, then Sesame’s moaned, “Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff,” as she presumably ducked under the spray.

  Since she’d already snuck away for a fast shower earlier, Jaide had other things on her mind. Shuffling over to the bed, she sat down with her back against the headboard, determined to keep an eye on the door. Sesame might be too tired to care what the Dracs did, but Jaide wasn’t taking any chances.

  Sesame’s bedroom was as uninspiring as the rest of her apartment. It was still as un-lived in as the day she’d moved in. Not even a dirty sock marred the serviceable gray flooring, and the walls remained the same boring eggshell white. Even the resin furniture lacked the normal clutter of day-to-day life.

  Nothing to distract someone of the mind to take a nap.

  An enormous yawn caught her off guard, and she stifled it with her fist. A memory nagged at her as she sat there, trying not to let the mattress lull her into sleep. Something she ought to remember about a certain Draconian captain. Whatever it was refused to crystallize in her burned out brain.

  Closing her eyes and making herself comfortable-just for a minute-she reviewed what she did know.

  The Dragonlords, as the people of Earth had called them when they’d first crash-landed on the continent of Antarctica, roughly twenty-five years ago, were a touchy bunch. Named for their glowing eyes and rough voices, they’d promptly made camp and declared to the horrified Earth governments that they were there to stay. Their homeworld had become uni
nhabitable, courtesy of a speeding asteroid the size of a small moon, and their supplies had been totally depleted. Bartering technology for foodstuffs and supplies, they’d set to work, making their commandeered chunk of ice a veritable beehive of alien activity. Reclusive and uninterested in human politics, the Draconians had proven themselves surprisingly good neighbors.

  So long as they weren’t riled.

  Jaide jerked awake with a start. Grousing at herself for her poor vigilance, she listened hard, just catching the sibilant tones of their uninvited guest’s language coming from the living room.

  The shower snapped off.

  The last thing she remembered as her eyes drifted shut was Sesame gloating that tomorrow would be soon enough for the Drac to discover that just because he’d signed a contract, didn’t mean she would.

  The woman was unforgivably rude.

  Skye was not used to waiting on women. None of them were.

  He glanced again at the locked door that hid them from view and around at the unadorned walls of the tiny dwelling. The only furniture in the room consisted of the table and booths built into the bare kitchen and the chair in front of the computer desk. There were no windows. According to her files, Sesame hadn’t been here more than two weeks, but still, one would expect more signs of habitation than this.

  The faintest haze of electric blue danced at the edge of his vision as he thought of the other woman, Jaide, distracting him with its novelty. It was the first time he could ever remember feeling the remotest desire for a woman not of his own race, and he paused to analyze it. Ever honest with himself, he felt no need for denial, simply strove to understand what was.

  True, the woman was attractive, but not outrageously so. Latin looks and perfect skin simply added a touch of mystery. He’d always been partial to taller women; black of hair and large of breast. Jaide Calanarre’s gentle curves and slight height shouldn’t have moved him, yet did.

  Perhaps it had something to do with the directness in her gaze, blue as the frigid Atlantic, or the intelligence in her expression. Certainly her courage had impressed him. Not many men dared to stand up to a Draconian, much less women. His lips twitched as he thought about her expression as she was caught holding the blaster. It had been hard not to burst into laughter at her sheepish grimace. It was still difficult to believe such a sweet-faced young woman was capable of shooting anyone.