Sci-fi Nights: Alpha bad boys & wild girls of futuristic romance

by Calinda B

  “But we have the ion trick now. We could fly out through the storm.”

  “What we passed through to get here was just a minor squall compared to the shriving.”

  Evessa pursed her lips. “Then walking out into it seems too risky.”

  For someone with so many dangerous secrets of her own, the l’auralya seemed very free with other people’s privacy, Shaxi thought. “It’s my best chance of erasing the errors in my codes. That’s worth any risk.”

  “I see.” Evessa lowered her starfield eyes and touched the metal collar around her neck. All sheerways pilots wore the collars, which monitored their sensitivity to the sheerways and ensured they didn’t become so enthralled by the twisting threads of myriad paths that they led their ships astray, never to be found again. If they did lose focus while threading the sheerways, the collar contained a lethal dose of paralytic and an explosives charge as backup. “What if your encoding isn’t in error? What if that’s just who you are?”

  Shaxi stared at her. “That’s…unsettling.”

  Evessa let her hand fall to the nav console in front of her, her fingers playing fretfully over the idle board. “Never mind. I’m just jealous. If you have the chance to remake yourself however you want to be, more power to you.”

  Feeling suddenly relieved that she’d merely been incarcerated, surgically altered, and mentally manipulated—but at least she didn’t have a poisoned bomb wrapped around her neck—Shaxi wished she might give the other woman some hope for herself. Instead, she said, “It might not work. The shriving might strip the flesh from my bones and leave the cyber-embeds in a pile on the sand. Not even a memory would remain.”

  Evessa shook her head. “I’ll remember you. For as long as I can.”

  Nonplussed at the spontaneous offer, Shaxi gave her a short bow. In some ways, the sheerspace navigator was as much a victim as any Hermitaj commando. They were both conscripted without choice. Hermitaj had its all-encompassing programming, but while pilots kept their own thoughts and feelings, they were rumored to be fatally addicted to the lure of the sheerways. Someday, Evessa would be unable to resist the lure, and then she’d either be killed or force her ship into the uncharted depths of space, killing everyone under her protection instead. Evessa might still be all woman, unlike Shaxi, but the shadows in her starfield eyes said she longed to be something more.

  A sudden fury swept through Shaxi, tightening her muscles. Neither she nor Evessa nor the twins deserved to have their fates determined by the needs of others—for war, for interstellar voyage—or by the lustful desires of the few.

  She was tired of the puppet masters, who thought they could toy with lives that didn’t belong to them. If she ever got them in the sights of her hazer, they’d regret the day they took her away.

  She unclenched her hands, forcing down the pointless anger. She’d never had a say in her own destiny. Why did she think that would change?

  “And I will whisper your name to the stars,” she told the other woman, using the oath shared in secret among Hermitaj mercenaries, most of whom didn’t remember their own names or where they’d come from. “May the sun that is yours hear it and call you home.”

  “Good luck, Shaxi.”

  Shaxi nodded as she headed for the door, but she was done with luck. She was done with programming and orders too. If she was on her own, then she’d make the most of it.

  But striding into the cargo bay, she remembered reluctantly she wasn’t really on her own.

  Clad in a concealing sand-robe, Eril was mounting an oversized hazer rifle to the roll bar of the runabout. He moved around the compact, sturdy six-wheeler with easy familiarity, although she supposed an auxo made plenty of supply trips in similar vehicles. But he also handled the big gun with the same efficiency as Jorr—which was not a supply clerk’s skill. He finished aligning the sights before turning to her. “Thought I’d find you here already.”

  “I was with our pilot.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You watched Evessa fly? And she didn’t chase you out? Odd.”

  She bristled. “She is not odd.”

  “I meant—” He rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Is there anything else we need before we go?”

  She had never been on a mission that wasn’t scheduled and simulated to the nth degree before the first step was taken. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. “I prepped the runabout earlier. So if you are ready…”

  They both stepped toward the seat with the control board.

  They both stopped.

  Eril eyed her. “Is this the way it’s going to be?”

  She clenched her jaw. “You mean, my way?”

  “Technically, by seniority and status, I rank you.” He crossed his arms, a smug smile quirking half his mouth.

  “Fine.” The word was clipped between her tight teeth. “Then I’ll take the gun side.”

  He narrowed his gray eyes and opened his mouth to argue more—as if she was going to sit in the back!—so she strode to the port side and climbed in.

  The runabout was maximized for hauling, leaving scarce, stripped-down room for passengers. And Eril was a big man. When he slipped behind the controls, his broad shoulder brushed hers and his thigh was only a hand’s breadth away.

  Not that any hand—hers or his—would be crossing that divide.

  At that exact moment, he reached around her to activate the comm. The heat of his body impinged on hers, and she edged as far from him as she could in the close confines. “Runabout Two to Asphodel. Let us out.”

  As the cargo bay hatch lowered, letting in a golden haze of dust, Shaxi fastened the doors on the runabout. The faint pop in her ears let her know the seal was complete—although the atmosphere on Khamaseen was breathable, the dust would only get worse—but she swore something in the recycled air was making her lightheaded.

  Eril reached toward her again to flick on the forward lights and display, and she realized it was his fault. The subtle musky scent of his skin and a whiff of something sweet—pixberry cake, she thought resentfully—combined to distract her from the captain’s voice as he sent them off.

  “—since the electromagnetic interference is likely to cut the comm,” the captain was saying. “Ping us when you get back in range. And good luck, Runabout Two.”

  “Luck?” Eril muttered as he cut the comm. “That should get us to the end of the ramp and back.”

  His echo of her own feelings on the subject riled Shaxi more than seemed reasonable, even to her. But considering how easily he’d rejected her, she didn’t want to agree with him on any topic. But she kept her mouth clamped shut as he guided the runabout out into the canyon.

  Although the slot where the Asphodel had wedged herself was a squeeze, the soft floor of the canyon was more than wide enough to accommodate the runabout. Most of the crumbling from the rim was no more than skull-sized stones, easy enough for the six wheels to bounce over.

  She clutched her seat so no bump knocked her into the hard curve of Eril’s shoulder. Even though some traitorous part of her body insisted on reminding her how wide and steady his shoulders had been when she’d clutched at him in the med bay. Curse him to any hells. Why did he have to be so big? And why did she have to be aware of how much space he took?

  They traversed the canyon in silence for what seemed like longer than what her internal chronometer indicated, until he said, “The mouth of the canyon is only another click. And Rampakh is less than an hour from there.”

  “I chose the location,” she reminded him. “I don’t need a guided tour.”

  “You don’t need to be short with me either.”

  “Actually, I do, since you are taking up more than half of the available space.”

  To her annoyance, he chuckled. “You’re used to always playing the heavy, aren’t you?”

  She frowned. Heavy? She thought the word was insulting on some level.

  He slanted a glance at her. “The tough guy,” he clarified.

  “I was made to b
e tough.”

  “But you don’t have to be that all the time.”

  “I am half plysteel.”

  “So you can be tough half the time.”

  She stared at the forward screen. The canyon offered protection from the worst of the winds, but even this deep, dust moved restlessly. The runabout’s lights turned the swirling vortices of sand into strangely mesmerizing sculptures of stone in motion.

  She felt the same twisting in her chest, as if the pieces of her she’d once thought were rock solid now seemed to be mostly air. “Is that what you wanted? For me to be soft and gentle—vulnerable—like a l’auralya? Would you have not pushed me away then?”

  He flinched, and his hands on the runabout controls faltered. “I didn’t—” He cut himself off when she drew a breath to blast him for the oncoming lie. “I didn’t mean it as a rejection of what you are. It was…a denial of what I am.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And what is that?”

  His voice lowered to a growl of anger that matched her own. “A man who was going to use you for his own desires.”

  Despite the note of threat—or maybe because of it—a thrill went through her. Like the familiar battle buzz sent by artificial impulse from her enhanced brain, but deeper, more visceral. It came from some secret place in her core.

  It was a place that wanted to be vulnerable, exposed.

  What was there, beneath the plysteel and programming? The thought terrified her. Which made her all the more determined to confront it and him.

  Slowly, she asked, “And what if I had my own desires?”

  He made another low sound, halfway between a groan and a laugh. “I doubt we want the same things.”

  “You think I don’t know what I want just because I’ve never had it before?”

  “You never…” His gaze shot to hers, and she caught her breath at the hot, molten silver glittering in his eyes. “Stop. You’re making it hard to stay strong and stay away from you, innocent girl.”

  A perverse surge of satisfaction made her smile. “You’re the one who said tough isn’t all good.”

  “I’m not even half tough where you are concerned,” he said.

  She took a breath, her amusement fading. “Then why did you stop? After the kiss?”

  “Shipboard romances are dangerous,” he said. “Distracting. Especially considering what we’re up against.”

  “That sounds more like an excuse than an explanation,” she noted.

  “You have no idea how right you are,” he muttered.

  “So tell me.” She needed data for optimal functioning, especially in this murky realm of all too human desire. “I am not so innocent.”

  He snorted. “More than anyone I’ve met, you are.”

  “I may not remember every moment, but I have fought and killed and lost. I think…” She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap, and to her surprise even the one with the implants was shaking. “I feel it’s my turn to experience the rest of what the universe offers.”

  When he glanced at her this time, the silver in his eyes was chill as ice. “Even at its most beautiful, the universe can be dangerous. Maybe you won’t want to remember any of it.”

  She laced her fingers together to stop the shaking. “At least it’ll be mine.”

  He didn’t answer, and moments later, the proximity alarm beeped.

  “Mouth of the canyon,” Eril said.

  Shaxi let out a slow breath. Apparently the canyon’s mouth was the only one that was going to open. Maybe she could force Eril to talk—she knew she had interrogation protocols in her codes—but that wasn’t what she wanted.

  She wanted him to want to talk to her. To want her.

  She flattened her palm over the runabout’s interface and absorbed the incoming data. “Range is limited by the EM interference from the storm front, but I’m reading no ships or other vehicles on the scanners,” she reported, keeping her voice flat and unemotional. “Rampakh will have sensors for incoming traffic, but if we can’t see them at this distance, they can’t see us.”

  “Good,” he said. “Then the Asphodel should remain undisturbed.”

  That was the only thing undisturbed, she thought, glancing sidelong at his tensed jaw. She resolved not to refer to the kiss again. Ever.

  They continued along the base of the cliff where the canyon had dumped them out. Rampakh occupied a small valley between two ranges where mining would have been done if the native ore and storms hadn’t been so problematic. The smaller port would be a frightening place to wait out the shriving, lying exposed as it was at the bottom of the funnel.

  But that’s why she was here. Maybe once she reset herself—if she survived—she would try again to uncover what made life worth living.

  She concentrated on the screens in front of her. “We should be picking up the outer sensor array of Rampakh by now.” She’d get out and push if she thought it would end this trip any faster.

  “The sandstorm we flew through might have knocked out the array.”

  She shook her head. “That wasn’t bad by Khamaseen standards. It’s unlikely the storm took down all the sensors. Also, our scanner range has decreased twenty percent since we left the canyon.”

  Eril scowled over at her screen and reached across her to toggle the scans. “Did you double check against geo-sat readings?”

  She pushed his arm away. “Pinging the beacon could bring down another mal data packet, as it did when the Asphodel confirmed her location. Besides, interference is too heavy to reach the satellites.”

  “We punched through the storm front. We should be on the other side.”

  “Apparently the storm isn’t interested in your explanations either,” she said. When he turned his scowl on her, she lifted her brows. “It seems the front has circled around. If the storm is vortexing already, then I believe—”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I don’t think you get a choice,” she told him. “The shriving has begun.”

  Chapter 12

  Eril tightened his grip on the steering shaft, as if he could throttle the storm into silence.

  Or at least his passenger.

  The note of awe in her voice as she summoned up a glitchy image of the circling storm bothered him. She shouldn’t be able to feel much of anything, not with her baseline programming still in place and her emotional development stunted by Hermitaj. She shouldn’t respond to the sting of rejection. She definitely shouldn’t be teasing him with the desire that had flared between them. She was supposed to be a tool for him to use. Instead, she was slowly coming to life right before his eyes.

  He’d fought so long as the shadow of death, but the dawning light of her threatened to eclipse his dark reach.

  This needed to end, sooner rather than later.

  “Maybe we can’t see it, but Rampakh is less than thirty clicks,” he said, desperation speeding his words. “We’ll make a run for it.”

  She shook her head, the white spikes of her hair flickering. “Won’t make it.”

  “Don’t be negative,” he snapped.

  “I’m not, but the ions in the storm are, and they’ll shred the runabout.”

  “We’ll polarize it, like you did the Asphodel.”

  “The battery is too small. We can’t generate a charge strong enough to protect us. We’d be dead in the sand.” She spread one hand over her console, her other hand darting over the controls, searching. “Here,” she said. “Another canyon. If we can make it there, we can wait out this wave of the storm and get to Rampakh before the next cycle. Probably.”

  He grimaced. “Probably? If I ask you for the odds, I suppose you’ll give them to me.”

  “And give you something else you don’t want? I think not.”

  “Shaxi—”

  She held up her hand, the calluses on her palm a stark contrast to the slenderness of her fingers. “I told myself I wouldn’t bring that up again.” She glanced at him, her dark eyes serious. “I didn’t run the
odds because I’m not interested in luck. Just get us there. Fast.”

  He wanted to argue with her—not about the coming storm, but about her thinking she could ignore the simmering tension between them—but she swiped her hand across the screen again.

  “Effective scan range has dropped another thirty percent,” she said, all business. “If we want to find a place to hide, we need to do it now.”

  Frustrated by his own conflicting impulses and the storm that seemed to mock his distraction with its own erratic volatility, he slammed the throttle forward.

  The supply vehicle was built for hauling, but like everything else about the Asphodel, it had its secrets. The engine whined once in protest and then jumped to respond with more power than he expected. It shoved both of them back.

  Shaxi, who had been half swiveled in her seat to check her screens, fell against him. She braced herself with a hand on his thigh, and to his mortification, blood surged through him, thickening his cock just enough that she had to have noticed before she straightened herself.

  The runabout hit a rough patch. The three wheels on the port side lifted, knocking Shaxi into him again. In the stifling closeness, her inadvertent touch was like pure oxygen to a smoldering ember, and every nerve in his body flared up into a primitive, engulfing blaze.

  He revved the engine to a higher pitch, careening them along the cliff wall. The wheels slewed over broken rock, sending the runabout sideways toward the wall, though he quickly righted them. After Shaxi almost slid into his lap.

  “Stop it,” she snarled.

  “You said fast,” he reminded her.

  She whipped her head around, close enough that her hair, even as short as it was, tickled his cheek. She glared at him from close quarters. “You’re enjoying this.”

  “More than I should,” he acknowledged.

  The uncoiling lash of the sandstorm hit them. Even with the compartment sealed, he would’ve sworn the smell of dust was leaking through the filters. Or maybe it was just Shaxi’s fury as she shoved herself away from him. The force of the wind wedged under the nose of the runabout, as if it would flip them, and only the heavy, sturdy design kept them moving forward, though the engine groaned at the effort.