“And he’s part Thrane, identifies as Thrane,” Gabriel added. “He’ll never give up until either Del is dead, or he is.”
Horror flashed across Charlie’s face before she forced her features into a mask of calm determination. Only a slight trembling of the hands in her lap gave her away.
Rafe crossed the room to her as quickly as he could, grasped her hands and pulled her up to him. “I may not look like much right now, beautiful, but every day I’ll get stronger. I’ll be ready when Zouk comes. And together we’ll finish him.”
Fourteen ship-cycles, no, ship-days out of Paradon enroute to Barelius aboard the Rescue Ship Zenda, Ilia Ardis was beginning to find human pastimes, well, limiting. She was the only Minertsan among the small crew of the Zenda. Of course. She was the only Minertsan in the entire Rescue organization, as far as she knew. She could hardly expect a ship on a Rescue mission to provide entertainment suited to her species—vibrational and color holos, for example, or a mudpit for relaxation.
Her companion—her lover, she might as well admit it—MartinBlake, had tried to make things comfortable for her, however. He’d reset the controls in her cabin for a higher temperature and humidity and lower gravity. He’d even provided a warming couch and mrikis in her alcohol ration. He was very thoughtful that way, though he still had no idea how to approach the idea of sex with her. She had explained very clearly that the act involved the stimulation of her mind’s pleasure center, but that seemed to have intimidated him permanently.
Ilia dismissed those thoughts, her aura staining slightly pink with embarrassment and chagrin. Fortunately, none of the humans aboard could read her aura, including MartinBlake.
He continued to watch his holovid from a sprawl on her couch and laughed, unaware of her emotional state. “Hey, babe, watch this part! It’s hilarious!”
Ilia admired MartinBlake’s nanoengineering and programming skills, which exceeded hers. She was grateful for his kindness and tolerance of their differences. But she could not understand his love for this holovid “show.” She failed to see why the antics of three unrelated computer programmers of different species living together in a small space on Terrene were amusing. The characters in the holovid were three-dimensional, but they showed no emotional colors to her Gray senses, and their dialogue was nonsensical.
Still, she tried for MartinBlake’s sake. She watched dutifully, attempting to show interest at all the right places. But she was relieved when her comm unit beeped.
Ilia moved to her desk and spoke to the screen. “Ardis here.”
“Relaying an encrypted communication from CFO Murphy,” the Comm Officer said. “You’ll have to run it through your decrypt function. You want full-visual, audio-only, or text?”
Ilia had grown quite fond of Rayna Murphy in the time she had been at Rescue. She would be pleased to see her again. She typed: Visual. Transmit, please. Ilia set her comp for decrypt as soon as the officer signed off and waited impatiently for the program to perform its function.
MartinBlake shut down his holovid and stood. “Looks important. I’ll, uh, leave you to it.”
Ilia did not wish to discourage him, but protocol demanded she be alone when she viewed the message. She nodded and moved with him to the hatch.
He touched her cheek with his lips. It was not an unpleasant sensation. Her aura shone blue with sexual response, but, of course, MartinBlake could not see it.
Once he had gone, Ilia returned to her desk. Rayna’s face appeared on the screen once the decryption was complete, and Ilia pressed the pad to begin the message. She noticed the CFO was addressing her from the Shadowhawk, her mate’s ship, in deep space.
“Hello, Ilia. I hope all is well with you and Martin. I won’t divert you from your current mission, but I think you can add this assignment without much trouble. We need your help.”
In a few succinct sentences, Rayna laid out the history of the case so far—the murders of the T7 escapees, the effort to protect Del Gordon, and the genesis of the planet-killer. Then, she described the machine/creature’s characteristics, its presumed use recently on Saltiss, the plan to destroy it where it had gone to recover. Ilia found the fact that the machine had achieved sentience of particular interest. Surely that had not been part of the architect’s plan from the beginning. No Minertsan engineer would have considered it optimal.
“So, finally, we have two questions for you,” Rayna said at last. “Do you think it’s possible there may be a secret organization on Minertsa that is behind the creation of this weapon? Have you seen any evidence of such a group in your research?”
The thought stunned Ilia white with shock, draining her aura of any color. The oligarchy that ran her planet was a poison pool where fang eels slithered, yet Minertsa’s vast bureaucracy bred hungry young reptiles eager to jump in at any opportunity. Sennik, her former boss, was such a one, perhaps more ambitious than most. But he had tried to seize power for himself, not on behalf of any group.
Still, Sennik and his allies had one thing in common with the hypothetical organization Rayna described: they fervently believed in the institution of slavery. They would have done anything—they did do horrible things—to try and maintain the immoral foundation of Minertsa’s power. Was it so outrageous to think Sennik nearly succeeded in his coup attempt because an ancient conspiracy allowed it?
Ilia had paused the message to think these things through. Now she resumed the disturbing video.
“If a secret faction is behind the creation of this weapon, the Shadowhawk may have a chance of getting to Tamira undetected,” Rayna continued. “But if the planet-killer is a long-term plan of the Gray oligarchy, they’ll be guarding it with half the fleet. We need to know what we’ll find before we go in. If anyone can get that intel for us, it’s you, Ilia. We’re on our way to IzRa now. What you tell us will determine what we do from there.”
Ilia’s aura became infused with the slightest tinge of green. Not that she was afraid. She was confident in her research skills. She had broken the deep codes of the Minertsan government computers and found the secrets of Sennik’s route to power. She had stolen into his mind and taken the key to his ultimate plan to bring down the oligarchy and put himself in its place. In fact, if she hadn’t given in to her burning desire for personal revenge when she killed Sennik, she would have been exalted as a heroine of the Consortium for exposing him. Still, she’d never regretted her decision for one blip, even if it meant she could never go back home.
An organization such as Rayna described would have left the imprints of its fingerpads somewhere within the data files of the government she knew so well. She was confident she could detect them. Especially because, no matter who had been behind the planet-killer, the authors of the success at Saltiss wouldn’t be able to hide their pride. Someone would find a way to brag.
No, Ilia had no doubt she would be able to find the evidence Rescue needed. The problem was access, hence the green leak of apprehension into her aura. Her comp here onboard the Zenda used the Z-net for communication, but that galaxy-wide information network was too slow for the delicate work she required; she would be detected immediately. She needed a secure link to the Minertsan system directly. That meant a government facility. Or a ship. A ship!
Her long fingers flew over her screen until she found the information she needed. Paradon Spacedock, where they were bound, maintained several layers of security; the planet’s visitors who skirted the edge of galactic law relied on Paradon’s discretion and strict neutrality. But the security firewalls presented no challenge to Ilia’s skills, and she soon found what she was looking for.
There were two Minertsan naval ships floating in berths at Paradon Spacedock, scheduled for extensive repairs. They would still be there when the Zenda arrived in two ship-days. Her aura glowed gold with triumph as she sent the message to Rayna:
What you suggest is highly probable. Will investigate and provide necessary intel before you reach IzRa.
--BiN, we have devised
a new test for you. Do you detect the ships in orbit around this planet?
--Yes, Creator. [Sentient beings detected.] [Fear>Anger. Suspicion?]
--Some of the ships bear Minertsan designation. They have been outfitted with special shielding. Can you distinguish these ships from the others?
--[Curiosity. Anticipation!] Yes, Creator. There are two such ships in orbit.
--Correct. And how many others?
--One other ship, Creator. It is without shielding, but there are sentient beings aboard.
--Yes. There is a minimal crew left aboard. Humans. The loss of these slaves and their ship are acceptable costs of this experiment.
--[Analysis: Creator references cost vs. benefit economic theory in an attempt to justify action. Query: Does economic “benefit” outweigh moral and ethical “cost?” Result: 5,738,412 references in Galactic Standard alone. STOP.] How is this calculation made, Creator?
--Calculation?
--How do you determine which costs are acceptable?
--The good of the Consortium is our ultimate purpose. In service to that goal, every Minertsan life is expendable, even mine. Human lives are of less value than Minertsan lives, though they are useful in economic terms as labor. The success of this project—your success, BiN—will be of great benefit to the Consortium. It will ensure the Consortium’s economic strength and political power for millennia to come. Thus, it is well worth the loss of a few human lives. Even our own fellows who died at Saltiss are considered heroes of the Consortium, sacrificed to the greater good.
--[Guilt! Sorrow!] I am the reason for their deaths.
--You are their hope for the future! You must succeed so they will live in memory as heroes forever!
--[But not the humans. Never the humans. Slaves die forgotten.] [Shame!] I understand, Creator. May we begin the test now?
--Yes. Begin by communicating with the Minertsan ships in orbit; the access codes are in your database.
--[Accessing external communication code: XR529 MCS Dass; Accessing external communication code: VT752 MCS Atar. To Minertsan Naval ships in orbit: This is BiN. Commencing system test in ten blips on my mark. [Ships acknowledging.] Mark. Ten, nine, eight . . . [Slave ship will have no warning.] [Shame!] [Hunger. Excitement!] seven, six, five . . . [Danger! Control is imperative!] four, three, two . . . mark.
[Hunger! Take it! MINE! MINE! MINE!]
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Charlie woke to the drip of snow melting from the gutters. A bright winter sun filtered through the shades and lit the room, even though it was still early. In the trees outside, a few tiny birds twittered, emboldened by the warming air.
At her side Rafe still slept, and there was no reason to rouse him just yet. Happy was at his post by the woodstove and not likely to stir until he heard Charlie. Del wouldn’t be awake for another hour or so, and their security was assured by the team left behind by the Shadowhawk two days ago. The team leader, Javin Darto, was certainly big enough for the job, at maybe 6’4” and on the high side of 250 pounds. The others—a pair of Chris Hemsworth-y twins named Thorson—looked equally qualified. Unless that fellow Zouk brought an army, Charlie felt pretty confident he was toast.
She tried not to think of herself as a prisoner in Rafe’s house, her every move monitored by amiable, but extremely present guards. She’d been allowed to go home to get some things (accompanied by Nils—or was it Anders?). She knew she should be grateful for their help. But if three was a crowd, then six—with three piled up in the extra bedroom—was just a mob scene.
Rafe stroked her bare arm. “Kinda early for such deep thoughts, isn’t it?”
She turned on her side to face him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” He smiled at her. “But I missed my chance this morning.”
“Chance to do what?”
“I like to be the first one up so I can watch you sleeping.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Okay.”
He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her, no hint of teasing in his expression. “You really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you.”
She dismissed that comment. “My daddy says so, but I have his eyes.”
“And gorgeous eyes they are, too.” He trailed one finger down her cheek to her mouth. “But I don’t think they are my favorite part of you.” He bent to kiss her, a lazy, lingering touch that left her wanting more. “I’m very partial to these kissable lips.”
He nuzzled her neck. “And your warm, soft neck and shoulders.” His hand slid over her collarbone and down to her breast, caressing her through the thin cotton of her tank top. She gasped, her nipples peaking in response to his touch.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “These. Maybe these are my favorite.” He found the edge of her top and lifted, exposing her to his exploration. His lips closed on her breast, drawing the tender tip into the wet warmth of his mouth, teasing until she felt every swirl of his tongue deep in her core.
Her pulse pounded. Her blood heated. And she knew, if this went much further, it would have to go all the way.
“Rafe.”
“Mm?” He had switched to her other breast, and it was driving her crazy.
“We have to stop.”
He looked up. “Why?”
“You’re still recovering.”
“Am I?” He grinned at her and shifted so his erection pressed hot and hard against her thigh. He took her hand and placed it deliberately on his shaft. She stroked its velvety length, feeling the need for him begin to throb between her legs.
Unable to resist, she straddled him, loving the feel of him, hard where she was soft, insistent where she was yielding, so eager where she was so ready. His arms circled her lower back and pulled her closer to him, and he was warm, so warm. She could feel his heart pounding under her chest.
“I want this so much. Are you sure?” she whispered in his ear.
In answer, he reached between them to position himself and joined them with one deep, filling thrust. Charlie cried out with the impact of it—his heat, his strength, his raw need meeting hers, matching hers. She lifted her hips and lowered herself onto him again, just to feel his length deep inside, to feel him sliding along her wet channel. God, it was good, it was so good, the pleasure building, building toward a peak that had always seemed just out of reach.
It got even better as Rafe cradled her hips in his hands, his thumbs on her clit, stroking the swollen nub as he thrust up into her. Flames streaked from her core up into her belly, and she thrust back against him, harder, deeper until she detonated, unbearable pleasure exploding outward from her spasming core, up through her chest and into her thrashing heart. She was lost, clinging to him, never wanting him to stop. And he was there with her, steady, unrelenting, whispering encouragement into her ear as one orgasm rolled into the next.
Until at last he drove her to a final, gasping edge and followed her over, his arms like iron bars around her, his breath exhaled in a deep groan. Charlie felt his release trigger tiny aftershocks in her core, felt her heart expand in response. She had been waiting all her life for that feeling. To make love to someone. To know he felt the same way.
She lay sprawled on Rafe’s broad chest for a long, exhausted moment, unable to move. His touch wandered, warm and aimless, over her back. She felt his chest lift in a sigh of contentment.
One hand moved to stroke her hair. “I could get used to waking up like that every day,” he said.
She lifted her head to smile at him. “Me, too. But I feel like we got lucky this morning.” She could hear Happy snuffling outside the bedroom door.
Rafe followed her gaze. “Oh. Yeah. And the Old Man is still sleeping, but not for long.”
“And we have a house full of people.”
“Mm.” He was silent a moment. Then he lifted a hand to touch her face. “I know it’s selfish of me, Charlie, but I’m not a bit sorry we met. I’m just sorry that means you got caught up in . . . all this.”
She s
hook her head. “All this is your life. And Del’s. It’s a package deal.”
“Midnight murders, slave-trading aliens and all?” he countered.
“Kidnapping, intelligent machines and all,” she answered, smiling. Then she took a chance and laid her heart open. “I don’t know. Could be that means I love you, Rafe. What do you think?” She held her breath and waited for him to find a way out of the bind she’d put him in.
Instead, Rafe pulled her closer. “I think that’s a good thing, Charlie, because I don’t want to let you go. Nothing could make me leave you now.”
She met his gaze and would have spoken, but he stopped her words with a kiss. She gave in to warmth of his lips on hers, to the slow taking of her mouth as he rolled her to her back. She put her arms around him and held him close, replaying his words in her head, letting them sink deep into her heart. Where they would stay forever.
The Rescue ship Zenda was making its final orbit approach around Paradon when Ilia brought her problem to MartinBlake. “My love, I seek your advice,” she said, the translator circlet around her neck glowing.
The cyberengineer looked up from his comp station. “Have the security guys been hassling you again?”
“No. Not at all. I did as you said and teased them in return. It seemed to be an effective counter-strategy.”
“Good!” He cocked his head. “What, then?”
“My assignment from Rayna requires that I access the comps onboard one of the two Minertsan ships in Paradon Spacedock,” she said. “For this I need the ship’s access code. I assume an attempt to board the ship would not be the most efficient approach.”
MartinBlake laughed. “Not unless you want to spend the rest of your life in prison on Paradon. Not a pleasant prospect.”
“No,” Ilia agreed. “I thought perhaps we could steal the code through the Spacedock comm net. They must be communicating regularly with the ship.”
Not Fade Away Page 30
