by C. J. Barry
"Do you think they knew they destroyed a fortune in vaccine along with it?” Decker asked.
"I don't know,” Grey replied. He asked another question. “Do you think they realized a few million people would die without it?"
Barrios groused. “Just what we need, more questions. One at a time. Decker, hand me that cartridge."
Decker ejected the holo cartridge from the holo deck and passed it to Barrios.
"Just as I thought,” Barrios commented as he examined the cartridge. “Standard issue Avion equipment. Manufacture date corresponds with the autodate of the recording."
He held the cartridge up to the group. “You are looking at the original recording media. Has anyone thought about how this recording survived? If the Galena recorded this holo, how come it wasn't destroyed with the freighter?"
Decker voiced his thoughts. “Even if there was another ship around, it couldn't have been transmitted off. According to the stats, their external transmissions were being jammed from the very beginning. They couldn't even communicate with the escort."
Grey folded his hands in front of his face. “It's a long journey from that freighter to Syrus’ box. So how did it happen?"
Decker shifted in his seat. “Add it to the list of questions. But I have one answer for you. I know who attacked the shipment. The Saurelians. I can positively ID those ships. From what the Galena could gather, I'd say they were identical. Probably pulled right off the production line. Looks like they were state of the art at the time.” Decker shook his head in admiration and regret. “Those Saurelians make good killing machines. They know how to fly them, too."
"No,” stated Cidra.
All eyes turned to her in surprise. She straightened and looked to each one in turn.
"That may be their fighters, but I can tell you, those weren't Saurelian pilots. I've studied every alien battle strategy in this sector. It's not their style to deploy twenty fighters to take out five ships. They enjoy the battle too much, and they love flying their own ships. Saurelians prefer even odds, makes the game more interesting."
"This,” she waved a hand toward the empty holo grid, “was too easy. Whoever sent those fighters out there wanted to make sure that shipment wouldn't make it to Dakru."
She looked over to find Grey regarding her intently over his hands. He turned to Decker. “Run it again. Half-speed this time. Let's see if we can get some answers."
By the third viewing, Cidra had the entire monstrosity engraved in her memory. Barrios was right. It only raised more questions.
Who was flying the fighters? Why would anyone want to destroy a humanitarian shipment? How did they approach the cortege so easily, apparently undetected? How did the holo cartridge and an actual vaccine ampoule get off the Galena and into Syrus’ hands?
And the most important question of all. Grey couldn't deny her mission any longer, not with the evidence before him.
"So Captain, do we have a mission?” Cidra asked with a calm secured by vindication.
Grey was slow to answer. His quick-silver eyes met hers with cold clarity. “We have a mission. A non-profit mission. In case you hadn't noticed, I have an entire crew to pay.” He leaned back in his chair, watching her. “I set the rules and timing. We'll look at it until we get to Vaasa. Then it goes on hold for as long as it takes to find the Mask of Teran. Understood?"
Cidra glared at him. “Can't you see how important this is?"
Grey glared back. “I don't need to explain my reasons to you. You just have to live with them."
Cidra opened her mouth to say something but closed it instead. She wasn't going to win this battle. Not today. There was always tomorrow. Patience. She knew all about patience. She took a deep breath, letting go of her anger. “Of course, Captain. So where do we begin?"
Grey narrowed his eyes at her. She smiled back brightly.
He began warily, “Ten years ago, someone purchased twenty Saurelian fighters. That should narrow down the source. I've got some people I can contact on Vaasa. We still need to figure out how this holo cartridge and the ampoule got off that freighter. That's a huge piece of the puzzle."
To Decker, he said, “I want you to get all you can out of this recording. Every stat, every development, in sequence. The answer to the recording's survival is there, but we're missing it. Look for anything unusual. Also, start digging around in the archives and external sources for everything you can find on this shipment. Be creative."
Decker nodded and grinned. “Always. That's where I do my best work."
Grey glanced around the room. “In the meantime, if anyone comes up with any brilliant theories, be sure to let me know."
CHAPTER FIVE
Making her way down the main corridor with Grey's dinner, Cidra reflected on her first meal on Calíbre with dazed amusement. It had been a chaotic, riotous affair with a crew of people all talking, laughing, and cursing at once. Much of the time was spent regaling Cidra and Barrios on a few unsavory adventures involving the Captain and crew of Calíbre. She imagined every new member got the same initiation.
Leena had kept her word and introduced Cidra to the rest of the crew. She'd met the infamous Coon. Although she had tried to heed Leena's advice and not give him any openings, the man still managed to slip in some suggestive remarks. He looked the part of a wild man with his crazy eyes, untamed hair, and a few unusual-looking teeth. To make matters even more interesting, he'd somehow found an unlikely friend in Barrios. The two had roared with laughter throughout the entire meal.
The rest of the crew consisted of a delightfully strange coalition of a gunner, mechanic, sweeper, retriever, even a historian and physician. Individually, they would be considered rather eccentric, but together they formed a surprisingly cohesive unit. Grey had managed to collect the perfect crew for a treasure hunting operation.
Cidra was grateful to learn that Mora usually spent mealtimes in the galley. No one seemed to request or miss her company.
Decker was also absent, covering the bridge alone. Before dinner, he'd given Cidra a brief message from Grey. The Captain wouldn't be joining them this evening. Evidently, it was normal for Grey to work non-stop for days at a time researching a find.
On those occasions, someone brought him his meals. Cidra had offered with some hesitation, unsure she wanted to be alone with Grey again. The fervent memory of the kiss in his quarters still lingered, but the opportunity to speak to him about the mission was too good to pass up. At least that's what she told herself right up until she stood in the open doorway of his office.
Grey stared into a display station, fingers steepled in front of his face, studying a maze of star charts. The man had an amazing level of concentration. He didn't even know she was there. Only when she stepped into the room did he gaze up at her in mild surprise.
"I brought you dinner,” Cidra started in her most cheerful voice, setting the tray on the desk next to him. “You better eat it before it gets cold.” As she spoke, her eyes immediately went to the display. She hesitated for an awkward moment. Then relenting to her curiosity, she moved quietly behind him to get a better view of the charts.
Grey didn't take his eyes off her. “Thank you. I see you survived your first dinner with the crew?"
She smiled at him with genuine delight. “A rowdy bunch, especially Coon."
Grey gave a short laugh. “I'll bet you heard all of his best stuff tonight. He always enjoys breaking in a new crew member or two."
"I could tell.” She inclined her head toward the display. “What is that?"
Grey saw the gleam in her eyes. “You really want to know?"
She nodded, leaning over his shoulder to get a better look, her long hair drifting down.
"I'm trying to track down the Lost Mask of Teran. It was en route from Teran to Borkova for an exhibition forty-three years ago and disappeared."
He pointed to a small galaxy on the screen. “Their last transmission was tracked to this sector. So that's where we started."
&
nbsp; His voice grew husky as he became acutely aware of Cidra's hair brushing his neck. He was truly amazed that she'd come into his office alone after that scorching kiss. Now here she was, standing inches from him. Either she trusted him more than he trusted himself or she was genuinely interested in the subject. He decided it was wiser to focus on the latter.
"Then what?” she asked.
He cleared his throat and continued. “We began with a long list of possibilities, then eliminated them one by one."
She turned to him with those incredible clear, blue eyes. “Possibilities?"
For a split-second, Grey was caught off-guard. Just keep talking. “Something caused that ship to disappear. Mechanical malfunction, crew problems, pirates, enemies, natural disasters. Like I said, it's a long list."
Her hair smelled incredible.
She frowned at him. “How can you eliminate possibilities when the ship vanished without a trace?"
"Research.” He could hear her steady breathing in his ear, ignored it and plowed ahead. “We get a complete schematic of the transport ship. Identify previous or possible mechanical problems. Locate a crew roster. Find out if the working crew have a history of difficulties? Were pirates working that sector at the time? Who would have wanted the Mask? Any local meteoric activity, asteroids, comets or other anomalies?"
She frowned even more. “Suppose it was completely destroyed like the Dakru shipment? You could do all this work for nothing."
There was a beat of silence before he finally shrugged. “It's instinct."
Cidra's eyes widened. “That's it? Your entire operation is based on instinct?"
He grinned. “Call it hunter's intuition. I wouldn't pursue the prey unless I felt it still existed. I guess you could call it a gut feeling."
Like right now, for instance. He felt her body heat on his shoulder, and his gut feeling told him to back off before he did something stupid. He breathed deeply, crossed his arms, and leaned forward in the chair.
"That's where most treasure hunters give up. They think the research is too time-consuming and tedious. Not to mention, it doesn't pay particularly well if you don't find what you're looking for."
Cidra was quiet for a minute behind him. “You don't give up easily, do you?"
He wasn't sure if it was a personal or professional observation and decided it didn't really matter. The answer was the same.
"No. I like to think it's one of my most endearing qualities.” He turned and smiled roguishly. “Among others."
She raised an eyebrow and indulged him with a playful grin. “Really? Do you have many?"
"A few,” he acknowledged, sliding his gaze down to her lips. “Unfortunately, decent apologies aren't at the top of the list."
Cidra blushed and managed a smile. “Lucky for you, I'll accept just about anything."
* * * *
Cidra tossed the micropad on the side desk, rubbed her eyes and stared at the ceiling above her bed. Thanks to Decker, hundreds of stats from the unearthed battle swam in her head. Far too many to absorb at once.
She reached back over the desk and picked up the personal communication unit she had been issued shortly after boarding. It felt cool and smooth in her palm, a perfectly balanced disc of metallic technology. The comm unit, as Decker had called it, provided a direct link to other units or the main communication board on Calíbre. She smiled. It made her feel like part of the crew.
Cidra placed it back on the desk. She lay back on the bed and contemplated the first day of her new life. Some of it bothered her even now—the Victor battle over Avion particularly. Some of it was wonderful.
She caught her breath as she remembered the kiss of a lifetime. At least her lifetime. The last time she'd been kissed was by a young man who had fumbled his way through it badly. Grey was no boy and he certainly didn't fumble. Even with her limited experience, she realized it was no ordinary kiss. She closed her eyes with a sigh.
So much intensity in one man, so overwhelming and without warning. But more unexpected was her own reaction to him. The strange warmth that had unfurled deep within her. The wild recklessness that had surfaced, goading her on.
Cidra grimaced at how easily she'd surrendered to his unspoken demands. She would have to be more careful with him. He had a way of destroying her defenses with a single look, a single kiss. She wondered if he had the same devastating impact on everyone else.
* * * *
Grey stretched out restlessly on his spacious bed, locked his hands behind his head and forced himself to close his eyes yet again. Sleep eluded him. Even the strenuous workout in Calíbre's rec center had done little to curb his uneasiness.
This mission was unsettling. Instinct told him there was more to it than they had seen. Something greater was brewing, something that would change his life forever. He knew it with the absolute confidence of a man who had ignored the feeling before and had later regretted it.
At least his plan to deal with Sandor Wex was on track. He smiled in the darkness. As expected, Mora had taken the bait: the final location of the Lost Mask of Teran. Or that's what she thought. Knowing his little spy as he did now, the file would be in Wex's hands the minute they landed on Vaasa tomorrow.
But he suspected the real reason for his restlessness was the distraction of innocence, strength, and stunning beauty he'd picked up on Avion. He could still smell Cidra's hair. He cursed Syrus yet again. The old man had set him up with a woman he could lose a great deal of sleep over.
In the blink of an eye, she had stripped him down to primal, elemental male with a single kiss. A kiss that haunted him relentlessly. A major mistake on his part. He'd tasted the fire in her that hovered just below the surface. For a brief moment, she had unchained it and let it rise. He wasn't sure which one of them had been more surprised.
He exhaled hard. Forget it. It would never work. He already had painful proof that business and ecstasy didn't mix, no matter how tempting or how innocent those blue eyes appeared. He wouldn't tolerate another Mora, wouldn't play the fool again.
Satisfied with his renewed determination and self-control, he concentrated once again on sleep. Even drifting toward it, he realized his body hadn't heard a word.
* * * *
It began as it always did. Oppressive darkness and debilitating horror, a suffocating terror that gripped her to the core. Cold, raw, bottomless fear.
The screaming started, blood-curdling shrieks unleashed from the heart. Cidra was never sure if they were her own. A mother, begging, pleading and then silenced with a brutal blast. A sickening flurry of twisted imagination and snippets of reality. Footsteps thundering, so loud, so close, so fast. Fire and smoke.
Fear choked her, paralyzing her body, freezing her legs. Frantically, blindly, she struggled to escape, her heart pounding out the advance of the faceless encroachers. Confusion reigned, panic clawed at her throat.
Cidra braced herself for the final scene, the inevitable conclusion, there was no stopping it. She waited for the pain that would rip through her, the final blast, the same conclusion to the same nightmare she'd relived over and over again for ten years.
She waited, but it didn't come. Not this time. A soft voice whispered to her. Her father's voice. He was there, in her mind.
Run, Cidra. Slip out as fast as you can, and no one will see you. His voice sounded calm and soothing. She wanted to say something to him, anything. It had been so long. She reached out to him.
The blast finally came and it was over. Cidra bolted up in bed like a shot. Heavy shudders racked her body. She was soaking wet and shaking in the darkness. She yanked the covers off and leapt to her feet, residual energy surging through her.
It had been different this time. Her father's voice, that had never happened before. The spell was broken for some reason; the nightmare had changed. After ten years, it had changed. Why?
She stood in the center of her room, hugging herself. There had to be a reason. What was it he'd said?
Run. Slip out as
fast as you can, and no one will see you.
She repeated the words again and again. Suddenly, she stilled, her eyes focusing on the micropad lying on the desk. “Oh Lord. That's it."
Cidra spun around, hit the controls that unlocked the adjoining passage and started knocking on the door. She was about to try the comm unit when the door abruptly slid open.
Grey stood in the doorway, his body poised for action, laser in hand—all warrior.
"What's wrong? Are you all right?” His eyes darted around her cabin checking for trouble.
"A back door,” she breathed, her eyes huge.
Low light from his cabin lit her face. Grey's eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Cidra?"
She repeated slowly, “A back door. The landing bay. They slipped out of the landing bay."
He struggled to keep up with her. She was obviously wide-awake, leaving him at a distinct disadvantage. Not to mention that, for a fleeting moment, he'd hoped she just plain wanted him and not to bounce some crazy idea off either.
"Cidra, I hate to break this to you, but we watched that holo recording four times. Nothing came out of the landing bay,” he explained patiently, lowering the laser pistol and bracing his other hand above the doorframe.
She gave him a challenging look. “I have one brilliant theory for you."
Grey exhaled and hung his head. “It's late, Cidra. Can we discuss this in the morning?"
Her voice shook. “No. I need to see the recording again.” She moved closer to him and placed her palm on his bare chest. “I can't wait until morning. Grey, please."
He sucked in a breath and froze. Her hand felt like fire on his bare skin. He gazed down into those beautiful, pleading eyes. It was the first time she'd ever called him by his first name, and it sounded incredibly sweet. He was aware that parts of him were waking up faster than others. He was also aware with every ounce of instinct in him, without a doubt, he was in big trouble.
"I'm going to regret this,” he grumbled.
She withdrew her hand at once and smiled brilliantly. “Let's go."
