One by one, the monitors flickered out. The station lights dimmed and she heard systems shutting down all around her.
She was too late.
Her heart pounded as she walked to the viewport that made up one wall of command. The Tau Ceti ship approached at a steady pace, as if they knew her dilemma. They had probably caused it.
Listening stations weren’t built to withstand attacks. Nobody cared about the data she gathered and analyzed except anthropologists and bureaucrats. Her reports probably never made it past the planetary liaison’s desk.
The liaison…who had been taken onto the Arbiter right before it sped out of the Sol system. The man who had secured her assignment, convinced her that there wasn’t an oversight when the months turned into years. The one who insisted that her reports go through him instead of directly to the Coalition.
He had come onboard the listening station three times since she’d arrived, to “check in and make sure she was holding up okay”. The last time, he had insisted on doing a systems check.
She ran to the nearest console and keyed in every command she could think of, trying to get a response. Nothing. He must have put in a failsafe—programmed a code that would give the Tau Ceti control even if his standard codes were stripped.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, then blew it out.
Any moment, the Tau Ceti would open fire and destroy the station. They might not even know she was onboard. Except if they were working with the liaison, he would have told them. Wouldn’t he?
With the access they obviously had, if they wanted her dead, they could vent the station or open the airlocks. Her uniform would keep her alive for a few hours, if they didn’t vaporize her.
Life support was still on but the lights were dimmed. Dim lighting would help the Tau Ceti, protecting their sensitive eyes. They must be planning to board the station. What could they want, though? All she had was data, and the liaison could easily have shared all of her reports with them.
Except for the most recent one. They must be looking for something.
Whatever they wanted, she had to stop them from getting it. If she could get to the sun-facing side of the station before they docked, she had a better chance of… What? Taking out as many of them as she could? Hiding for a few extra minutes before they found her?
If it came to that, she would end her own life. The first thing the Tau Ceti did after hatching was cannibalize the rest of their broodmates. They called it their own twist on genetic engineering. “Only the strongest survive.”
They applied the same principle throughout their lives—not just at birth. The strong survived by eating the weak, even if the meal consisted of sentients. The thought turned her stomach.
She wasn’t bloodthirsty by nature, but she had been trained as a soldier. Strategies formed in her mind as the ship loomed closer. She was running out of time.
Countdown. She smiled as the idea popped into her head. She might even survive.
She wasn’t just a soldier. She was augmented.
She wasn’t just a glitch. She was an aberration.
The liaison knew about the nanites in her brain that enhanced her memory and provided her with a direct link to download her interpretations of what she observed. The nanites made her singularly qualified to be assigned to a listening station. He had probably shared that information with the Tau Ceti. Which meant they knew that she had a constant backup of the station’s data in her head—including the data they were after.
But she was a glitch. Glitches started their lives surprising the geneticists who tried to control their DNA. The engineers who had augmented her would be shocked to know the nanites were more than just an upgrade to her brain. They were her constant companions. Her friends.
The station might not defend her, but her nanites would.
She took a deep breath and held it. This was going to hurt.
Her awareness of them started as a tingling at the base of her skull. It rapidly moved through her brain till it concentrated on her forehead. The station’s systems were locked out to her, but the nanites had a way with machines that she didn’t. She willed them to make the connection.
Searing pain tore through her mind as the nanites powered up and sent their broadcast. Her brain felt hot, her skull practically cooking the skin under her hair. She groaned as she fell forward, hands planted on the console before her. The monitor flickered.
Her command was simple—self-destruct.
In ten minutes, the station would explode in a fiery burst of energy. The cloak generator was in the most protected part of the station so that it would be the last to go. Even if someone happened to be looking in her direction, by the time light could escape the field, the Earthlings would only see a bright flare that quickly winked out. Coalition destruct sequences didn’t leave anything behind except an energy signature.
Because her nanites could convince the station that they were part of its systems, there wouldn’t be any notifications or broadcasts. All she had to do to survive was drag herself to the escape capsules and hope that the chaos of the explosion covered her departure—or that all the Tau Ceti were on board when it happened.
She gave the nanites a few moments to reorganize themselves within her brain, then sent a shut-down command to let them rest. They weren’t intended for that kind of use, and she imagined it taxed them about as much as it did her.
Swallowing was hard. Her mouth was bone-dry. Walking was worse. But she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, wincing as the pain in her head retreated to a dull throbbing ache.
She reached the escape capsule just as she heard the docking clamps engage. The airlocks were a level above. She was in the underbelly of the station.
Heavy footsteps sounded above her, the quiet station suddenly filled with echoing shouts and guttural yells. She waited as long as she dared, hoping to give more of the Tau Ceti time to board the station. She wanted as many to be caught in the explosion as possible. If she was really lucky, their ship would be disabled as well.
The voices were getting closer. She slid into the capsule and programmed the first coordinates that came to her bruised mind. As the capsule detached from the station, she let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes.
Chapter Three
Brendan sat at his table in front of a plate of cold bean burritos. He only vaguely remembered preparing them. Going through the motions of making lunch calmed him down enough to know that he wasn’t going to have an appetite for a while.
His first thought had been to call Eric, but he wasn’t sure that was the best idea. If this was a ruse to get Brendan back on the project, that would be playing right into their hands. If it wasn’t…
Two ideas presented themselves. Either Kira really wasn’t supposed to talk to him, and letting Eric know about it would possibly get her into serious trouble, or she was in such serious trouble that Brendan might already be too late to help her.
He pushed away from the table and started to pace. The cabin was too small. Stifling him. He couldn’t think.
He walked outside and slammed the door behind him. A walk along the lake’s shore would help clear his head.
Two courses of action. Call Eric or don’t call Eric. Maybe he could make the call, but sort of hedge around the issue. Maybe he could ask Eric to talk off the record. Of all the people Brendan had worked with, Eric was the only one Brendan trusted. It was still a lot to ask.
His chest ached. He rubbed it absently, staring out over the water. He wanted to hear Kira’s voice again.
Summer had settled over the mountains, but the air kept a hint of the crisp snap of snow nearby. Sunlight glinted off the lake, reflecting the peaks in the distance and the pines that lined the shore. A cool breeze made the trees sway and reminded him that he probably should be wearing a jacket over his long-sleeved shirt.
&nb
sp; It was peaceful—until something rocketed past him so fast that its slipstream nearly pulled him off his feet.
He stumbled forward, arms flailing as he regained his balance. The projectile was about the size of a car, only shaped like a bullet. It was hard to make out details, since the whole thing was chrome, gleaming in the sun.
His mind tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Some kind of low-flying plane? A missile?
That last possibility made his stomach clench. Maybe Kira wasn’t the only one in line to be shut down.
If it was a missile aimed for him, though, they had missed. The thing was speeding away.
Halfway across the lake, it slowed to a stop and…hovered above the water.
Brendan rubbed his eyes and looked again. It was far away, but he could swear it was at least four feet above the surface, ripples spreading beneath it. It turned back in his direction and approached slowly.
“What the hell?”
His instinct told him to run and his curiosity told him to move forward. He settled on staying put.
The object stopped when it was only a few feet away, definitely hovering above the water. Its exterior looked like chrome, but it was shaped more like a quartz crystal than a bullet.
Six planes made up its body, the sides about ten feet in length with four-foot wide and three-foot tall pyramids formed on both ends. It swiveled around him, keeping the apex of one pyramid pointed at his chest. Then it drifted down to rest on the water.
After a few moments, the top panel of the object popped up, revealing a compartment within. The panel slid to the side, folding seamlessly into what he could now tell was some sort of aircraft.
Or spacecraft.
Brendan shook his head. No way. It couldn’t be. He took a step closer and stood on his tiptoes, trying to peer inside.
Something moved and he jumped back. A figure rose from the opening, clad in shining silver fabric that clung to her form like a second skin.
At least, he thought it was a her. He couldn’t be sure, because she was wearing a helmet that looked like it was made from the same opaque gleaming metal as the capsule.
Whoever—or whatever—was inside the suit had a gorgeous figure. Long legs, curvy hips, narrow waist, and a chest graced with two—and only two—breasts.
Brendan held up his left hand in the Vulcan salute and said, “Klaatu barada nikto.”
The figure stood motionless for a few more moments, then lifted a hand to her helmet. She tapped the side and parallel lines appeared in the smooth chrome as it broke into one-inch segments. The segments folded back on each other until the woman’s head was uncovered.
Well, uncovered by metal.
The breeze lifted her long strands of chestnut hair, obscuring his view at first. She shook her head to get her hair out of her face, and time seemed to slow like in a swimsuit commercial.
Dark eyebrows curved gracefully over her large brown eyes. Even as far away as he was, Brendan could see how thick and long her lashes were. Her nose was straight and narrow, her cheekbones defined, her chin strong, and her lips full and sensual.
“Brendan Sloan.” Her voice was steel and brandy. The same voice he’d heard every day for months.
His stomach was in his throat, his chest tight enough he could barely breathe. He was so lightheaded he thought he might pass out.
What a first impression that would make. He managed to get hold of himself, forcing air into his lungs so he could breathe her name.
“Kira…”
She brushed the last unruly strands of hair behind one ear and smiled. The way her cheeks pulled up, the crinkles around her eyes, the dimples…
Kira was here. She was safe.
And standing in a spaceship.
He had made so many jokes about her being an alien. He thought she was playing along when she danced around the issue rather than calling him out on it. But now—
That sexy as hell voice of hers pulled him back to the moment as she said, “I come in peace.”
Chapter Four
Kira couldn’t believe that Brendan stood right in front of her. He was even more beautiful than she’d imagined.
He stared at her with blue eyes—wide and expressive. The sunlight shimmered on his pale skin. His red hair was short, sticking up in disheveled spikes on top of his head, then settling down to frame his face in a neatly formed beard that covered his jaw and chin. The beard drew her attention to his full lips.
She had only seen beards on people in the data she screened from Earth’s broadcasts. The genetic engineers seemed to do their best to minimize body and facial hair on Sadirians—except for eyebrows and eyelashes. Well, and the pubis. They generally stayed away from that area.
She loved Brendan’s beard. She wanted to run her fingers along his jaw and feel its texture.
The thought shocked her. Why would she want to do something like that?
Shaking herself, she focused on her immediate problem—the danger they were both in. If the Coalition found her talking to an Earthling, Brendan would get a mind-wipe and she’d end up in prison. If any Tau Ceti survived and managed to track her down, she and Brendan were just plain dead.
When she had put in Brendan’s coordinates, she hadn’t been thinking clearly. She was still putting her brain back together after the minor miracle she’d pulled off with the station.
Looking at him now, being so close to him, she couldn’t honestly say that she wouldn’t have come anyway.
She’d wanted to meet him.
Now she needed to keep him safe. The only way to do that was to keep the Coalition and the Tau Ceti from finding them. She needed to be off their scans, which meant no tech. Her nanites were already powered down and she planned to keep them that way for now.
She unlatched the bands at her forearms that held her uniform’s controls, then did the same to the collar that held the segments of her helmet. With that out of the way, she grabbed her uniform’s seal and slid it open down the length of her torso.
“Whoa,” Brendan said. “Um, Kira?”
She glanced at him, noting that his eyebrows had hiked way up his forehead. A quick look at their surroundings didn’t reveal any threats. The escape capsule should notify her of predators as well. For the next few minutes, anyway.
“What is it?”
He stammered for a few moments, then asked, “What are you doing?”
“Stripping.” She wiggled out of her uniform till it was around her ankles, then unlatched her boots and stepped out of them.
“I can see that. I can really, really see that.” He shifted his weight and clasped his hands in front of his body. “But why are you doing it?”
“Coalition tech shows up like a nova on scans. My uniform and the escape capsule are filled with it.”
She grabbed the capsule’s med-kit and tossed it to Brendan. He scrambled to catch the small metal case.
“The med-kit is shielded from scans, plus its tech is inactive.”
She keyed in the destruct sequence—manually, thank the stars—then programmed new coordinates that would take the capsule deep into the lake before it exploded. She sat on the edge of the capsule and swung her legs over the edge before sliding into the shallow water.
“Wait!” Brendan dropped the med-kit and rushed forward, water splashing up his jeans.
Gravity was faster.
As the water closed around her legs and waist, the cold hit her like a blow. Her knees gave out and she sank deeper before Brendan grabbed her and lifted her from the lake. One arm was under her knees and the other around her back. Her arms settled around his neck without needing her command.
After a few gasping breaths, she managed to say, “Much…colder…than…expected.”
“This lake is fed from runoff from the mountains.” Brendan gestured with his head across the water to
snow-capped peaks.
That explained why her skin was covered in bumps and her heart was trying to beat its way out of her ribcage both as punishment and to escape from the stinging cold. Kira had been through a lot in her training, but liquid water wasn’t all that common. And cold water was very different from the freezing atmospheres her teachers had exposed her to—in her uniform.
The option of taking it off while stranded on an alien planet hadn’t been covered. It was generally believed that if things were bad enough to take out their uniform, the soldier wearing it would be dead anyway.
But she was alive. And she intended to stay that way.
The orientation session that prepared her for her assignment in Earth’s listening station gave her rudimentary knowledge of the environment and things she might encounter if she had to go planetside. It was a rarity, and she certainly had never heard of it happening under the circumstances she was facing.
She pulled on her training anyway, trying to calm her heartbeat. Deep slow breaths, focus on the objective. But all she could seem to think about was Brendan’s warm chest pressed against her side.
The escape capsule silently drifted away from them, then sank under the water when it was several meters away.
“Where’s that going?” Brendan asked.
“Under the water so the explosion won’t be visible.”
“Explosion?”
“The water should protect us from the blast.”
“That’s not particularly reassuring.” Brendan was already headed for the shore. It didn’t take long for them to clear the water.
He bent so she could grab the med-kit. As he stood again, he said, “How far away do we need to—”
A dull boom-whoosh sounded behind them. Brendan flinched, tucking Kira closer against his body, wrapping more of his around her.
He was protecting her.
The thought made the bumps on her skin intensify. Held in his arms, she had the same internal sensations as she did in zero gravity.
He looked over his shoulder at the spout of water that was already starting to fall back to the lake. “Okay. I guess that was that.”
Resident Alien: Department of Homeworld Security, Book 2 Page 2
