by Cara Bristol
The first week of employment had raised more questions than answers. She’d gotten the impression there were employees, and then there were special employees. Projects, and special projects. What did Aym-Sec do besides providing bodyguards for dignitaries and security for events? Why had she been blindfolded before going to medical?
“You’re settled in the new housing?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you. It’s been a lifesaver.” For a week, she’d stayed in the Aym-Sec dormitory, a room with six bunks, where she’d been the sole occupant.
Once her security clearance was approved, she’d been informed she could move to permanent employee housing, which she’d done this morning before her shift. Moving involved carrying her two suitcases from one end of the building to the other. The new unit came furnished with a couple of cushioned chairs, a console, a vid-screen, and a bunk that folded up into the wall. The single room with attached bath was small, stark, utilitarian, and oh so preferable to the grandeur of the O’Shea satellite. Because it was hers.
“Do you provide housing for all employees?” she asked.
He seemed to hesitate. “For those who need it.”
So he saw her as a charity case.
The truth hurt. She was a charity case. The O’Sheas had controlled everything then booted her out with almost nothing. After longing for freedom, she hadn’t expected she’d feel so alone when she got it.
“Was there something I could help you with?” she asked.
“Actually, yes. You’ve been briefed about the AOP Summit?”
“Brock mentioned it,” she replied, but she’d been aware of the all-planets meeting before her arrival. A person would have to be as dense as a meteorite to not have heard of the Summit. Fascinated by politics, she’d been glued to news feeds on the O’Shea satellite. Delegates called ambassadors convened annually to advance their interests, hash out grievances, and discuss important issues.
“Terra United is hosting this year, and President Mikala Aaron has scheduled an inspection of the Luna Convention Center.”
“Doesn’t she have staff for that?”
“Normally, yes, but Mikala intends to capitalize on the opportunity. Other leaders will be on the moon, so she’s using the walk-through as an excuse to do some politicking in advance of the Summit.” He paused. “Besides, she’s a bit of a micromanager.”
His use of her given name, his amused tone, and mild criticism spoke volumes. “You know her well?”
“We go back a ways. She and my father were friends and associates. Her daughter, Penelope, is Brock’s wife.”
“I didn’t know that.” She had watched President Aaron on the news feeds as well. She wielded a lot of influence, which made her one of the more powerful planetary leaders.
“Mikala has set up some private one-on-ones with a select few, in hopes of swaying votes,” he said.
She frowned. “Votes on what?”
“Whether to take a decisive stand against terrorism.”
“That shouldn’t be such a hard sell. Who wouldn’t be against terrorism?”
His bark of laughter fell short of amused. “Sounds logical, doesn’t it? In this case, a decisive stand translates to military action, declaration of war against Lamis-Odg. The AOP has released policy statements condemning terrorism and issued advisories against traveling in the most dangerous sectors of the galaxy, but insists the crisis can be solved through negotiation and diplomacy.”
Beth blinked, amazed by what he was telling her—not the information itself, but that he chose to share it. She realized she’d been isolated from high-level projects. Thus far, she’d worked on two cases: a regional sporting event and a has-been celebrity entertainer’s comeback tour.
“You don’t think it can?” she asked. “Be solved diplomatically, I mean.”
“How do you negotiate with terrorists? Lamis-Odg won’t cease setting off MEDs and killing people because an AOP ambassador says, ‘Pretty please, will you stop?’ Lamani intends to conquer the galaxy. Nothing short of victory will satisfy him.”
“So why hasn’t the AOP done something?”
“Because of a policy stating all life forms have a right to exist. Well, they don’t.”
“That’s pretty much the way the O’Sheas see it.” They would have revoked her right to exist if they could have. She lowered her gaze to her lap to hide unexpected tears.
“No, that’s not what I meant.” He dropped to his haunches.
“It’s all right. I understand.” She couldn’t look at him.
He swore. “No, it’s not all right. Hey…” He tucked a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face. “Whether you were born or bio-engineered in a tank, you’re human. Period. I wish—” He shook his head. “There is so much I can’t share yet, may never be able to tell you. But, I wasn’t referring to you or any clone. Lamis-Odg are terrorists. They kill people because they can. The only way to stop them is by force.”
“I’m sorry. I’m a little sensitive.” She had to stop taking everything so personally. She’d emerged from the maturation tank with a need to be loved, an ache to belong, but after she’d failed the trial period, Georgetta hadn’t held back.
You’re not our daughter. You’re just a bio-engineered organic unit.
We’re having guests. Stay out of sight.
You’re the biggest mistake we ever made.
Carter raked his hand through his hair. Hard masculinity turned boyishly uncertain for an instant, and her breath caught in her throat. His smell and warmth enveloped her, and she recognized the scent as the same cleansing wash she used—except, on him, it smelled different. Better. He must live at Aym-Sec, too, she realized.
Electronic book smarts, yeah, she had that. She was exceedingly educated. There were no lettered degrees after her name—no legitimate ones, anyway—but exercising her mind had given her something to do, and once the O’Sheas realized her education could be their ticket to freedom from their folly, they’d supported her endeavor, but there was so much more to life for which she was unprepared. What did you do when an attractive man caused a riot within your body? When he made you want?
“Did you drop in to say hello, or do you have an assignment for me?” she asked, her question more abrupt than she’d intended.
He stood and stepped back, putting distance between them. It was for the best, but she missed the closeness. “I do have an assignment for you,” he said. “I’ll be meeting with Mikala at Luna Center, too.”
The pang of disappointment that his visit was business oriented and not personal was followed by a sharper self-rebuke. I have to stop reacting like this! He’s the boss. Nothing more. Thank the personnel department she worked for Brock and not Carter directly. Too frequent contact would fuel ideas she shouldn’t be having.
“And you need equipment?”
“I want you to go with me.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you’ll coordinate the final logistical details for the Summit, and you should scope out the site. As good as holograms and virtual reality are, they don’t replace seeing the real thing.”
Kind of like her autodidactic education was no substitute for experience. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. The trip to the moon will take a few hours via shuttle, but be prepared to stay overnight. Let’s meet in the employee mess at 08:00.”
He left, but her heart continued to race. She’d be alone with Carter. She hoped she wouldn’t say or do anything stupid.
Chapter Nine
What the hell?
Carter halted inside the crowded cafeteria. Aym-Sec employees gathered at their usual tables, eating and chatting the way they always did, but his cyber operatives faced away from the forward left corner of the room. They stared at the wall while gulping their chow.
He pivoted in the direction they seemed to be avoiding.
Holy bejeezus!
In the corner, sat a naked Beth, eat
ing breakfast.
Technically not unclothed, she’d donned her Shuttleport Authority travel suit. To an operative with cybervision, the see-through SA unitard provided little more covering than transparent polymer sheeting.
A heated rush of hormones shot straight to his groin as he rushed across the room, tearing off his shirt.
“Put this on.” He didn’t wait for her response but tugged the garment over her head. The image of two perfect dusky-tipped breasts burned into his brain.
“What are you doing? Stop it!” She squirmed like a toddler as he tried to dress her, but he got her head through the neck opening.
“Put your arms through the holes,” he ordered.
“What—why are you doing this?”
“Put it on. I’ll explain in a minute.” What his actual words would be, he didn’t know. She stopped resisting and slipped on the shirt. He grabbed her arm. “Come on, we have to leave.”
“I’m sorry. Am I late?” She pushed away from the table and stood up. His shirt dropped down to kiss the tops of her thighs, barely covering her ass and the brunette curls over her mound.
“Is this your stuff?” He snagged the small bag next to her table.
She reached for it. “I can carry it.”
“I’ve got it. Let’s go.” He hustled her out of the mess.
In the corridor, employees eyed them with curiosity, their gazes shifting from Carter’s bare chest to Beth.
“Why did you insist I put on your shirt? People are staring!”
“You need to change clothes. You can’t wear the SA suit.”
“I have to wear it. They won’t let me on the shuttlecraft without it.”
“I apologize.” He closed his eyes to block out the sight of her long, shapely legs, but opened them again when images of pert breasts and brunette curls flooded his mind. “I should have told you. We’re not traveling commercial, but in Aym-Sec’s private shuttle. You can wear civvies.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Okay, but why bother to change? I’m dressed and ready to go.”
“You’re not dressed. Not around here,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. How could he tell her without embarrassing her or revealing top secret information? While she’d been vetted and had the highest security clearance, she didn’t yet have a need-to-know for the existence of Cyber Operations. Until she did, he couldn’t tell her anything. He took a breath. “You can’t wear the SA suit on Aym-Sec premises.”
“Why not? Does it violate an employee dress code? Is there a rule?”
“Yes. I’m making the rule right now,” he said. “No SA unitards. Ever.”
Beth planted her hands on her hips and stared at him. She had no idea how fucking adorable she looked, standing there in his shirt, her hair tousled from having the garment wrestled over her head. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, and stars help him, he wished it had been his bed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said.
“Go change…please.”
She held her ground. “What’s wrong with the unitard?”
“People can see right through it!”
She jerked and glanced down at herself then scowled at him. “No, they can’t.”
“Yes, they can. Not everyone—that’s true, but certain people can.”
“What people?”
Me, for one. He’d conversed with planetary leaders, the secretary general of the AOP, all rank of ambassadors, military generals, quintillionaires, humans, aliens, cyborgs, androids. Finding the right words to speak to this woman escaped him. He avoided her gaze by staring over the sexy curve of her bare shoulder. His too-large shirt had slipped down her arm.
“The, uh, SA suit is manufactured from a, um…composite polymer to be transparent to security scanners.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Some employees here have had…optic enhancements giving them sharper vision than the average human…and they can, uh…see right through the suit. To them, you look naked.”
Her jaw dropped. She flushed. “How do you kn—oh stars! You-you…” Pink deepened to red.
Carter nodded. “I—yes. I can see through the travel suit.”
She grabbed the edge of his shirt, and pulled it up over her shoulder, gripping the fabric in her fist. “In the dining room, how many employees could see me?”
Every single cyborg, about a third of the room. “Not many. Just a few.” He lied not only to spare her humiliation, but also to protect the secrecy of Cyber Operations. If she guessed how many “employees” had had optic “enhancements,” it could raise questions.
“I-I’ll go put on other clothes.”
“Good idea.”
* * * *
Beth returned in a pair of black pants and a prim, rose-colored jacket, both totally opaque. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. It was an honest mistake. The men who could see you understood your ignorance, so they didn’t sit there and ogle you.”
“You’re not saying that to make me feel better?”
“No. No worries on that score. I’m not known for sugarcoating the truth,” he said as they boarded the vertical transport. He palmed the GenScan, waited for the light to signal his identity had been authenticated. “Lobby,” he instructed the computer.
“What are you known for?” she asked.
His rep credited him with achieving the impossible. However, close associates like Brock and Mikala knew of the near misses, the times when he’d pulled success out of the drink at the last second, and of his abject failures. He obsessed over the losses. In the dead of sleepless nights, doubts lurched out of the shadows. What if Cyber Operations couldn’t defeat Lamani? What if the planets fell one by one until the balance of power tipped to Lamis-Odg? Trillions would die.
Cy-Ops had stolen a Terran woman right from under the nose of a Lamis-Odg general, saved a Faria from her murderous ex-husband, and rescued hostages from the predatory Ka-Tȇ. Saving individuals wasn’t so difficult.
Protecting a galaxy from an alien race bent on annihilating entire worlds when the alliance of nation planets was in denial over the extent of the threat? There weren’t enough nights left in his life to figure out how to do that.
Except, somehow, he had to.
“I’m sorry. I asked a wrong question,” Beth said.
Wrong? She’d hit a bullseye. “It got me thinking, that’s all.” He forced a smile. “I’m known for getting things done.”
The transporter stopped, the doors peeled back, and they stepped into a bustling lobby. Two Terrans, a winged-Faria, a Xenian, and a six-eyed Arcanian pressed forward to board the transport.
Her eyes widened. “Where are we?”
“The Galactic Trade Center. I’d forgotten you didn’t see any of this when you arrived.” He steered her away from the throng.
“Aym-Sec is located in the GTC?” she said in a hushed voice.
“You were expecting an abandoned industrial complex?” he asked.
“Something like that.” She squinted and rubbed her temple.
“Terra has no abandoned buildings. Anything not in use is refurbished and/or repurposed.”
She glanced back at the transport. “Can those people access the Aym-Sec floor?”
“Not without a genetic scan. None of them know the subterranean complex exists.” He omitted mentioning his money had built the GTC and the secret facilities below it.
She swept out her hand to encompass the crowded lobby. “So, while I was wearing blinders and electrocuffs, Morhain and Butler marched me by all these people?”
“No. There’s more than one entry. You weren’t escorted in through the main entrance.”
His Personal Vehicle idled curbside. Its door opened. “Good morning, Mr. Aymes,” the PeeVee greeted him.
He turned to usher her into the passenger cab, and she winced and massaged her temple.
“Headache again?” he asked. “I thought you weren’t havi
ng them anymore.”
“I wasn’t. This one came on all of a sudden.” She eased past him and got into the cab.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine. It’s not that bad. Just a twinge.”
He stowed their bags in the storage compartment then got in. The door sealed. “Shuttleport,” he told the computer.
“Standard or evasive maneuvers?” the PeeVee asked.
“Standard.” He settled against the seat.
The PeeVee merged into traffic and zipped away.
“Evasive maneuvers?” She arched her eyebrows.
“Optional features preventing the PeeVee from being tracked.” He prevaricated a tad. If the vehicle acquired a tail, a cloaking device would render it and the passengers near invisible. It also disabled the legally-required electronic identification signature. His PeeVee had been manufactured by Dale Homme, an inventor and cyborg on the Cy-Ops payroll who built spaceships with cloaking devices.
“It sounds very clandestine.” She laughed. “Like Aym-Sec is a secret spy agency.”
He schooled his expression to one of amusement. “It does, doesn’t it?” Again, without realizing it, she’d hit very close to a bullseye.
Beth pointed out the window. “That’s my hotel. I had no idea it was so close to Aym-Sec.”
“It’s close to the Galactic Trade Center. Many visiting diplomats stay there for convenience.” The location allowed Cy-Ops to keep a close eye on potential threats.
“The ride seemed to take a long time.”
“The PeeVee took a circuitous route so you wouldn’t realize where the facility was,” he admitted. Until recruits were vetted, it was standard operating procedure.
“You were that suspicious of me?”
“Aym-Sec takes security seriously,” he replied.
As they neared the spaceport, the sky over the multitiered structure filled with launching spacecraft, from large commercial cruisers, to fierce military drones and manned fighters, to private pods. Some climbed the sky in switchback patterns while others zoomed in a vertical trajectory into the atmosphere, their individual computer guidance systems preventing collisions.
