by Debra Jess
"If you're sure…"
Tamarja pointed her glass toward the rest of the party crowding around the food tables. "Why don't you fill a plate and find us a place to sit instead?"
"Sure thing." Jita bounded off, all springy energy and smiles.
Tamarja retreated to the cool indoors and found the kitchen. A young man slouched there, holding a glass of liquid the same color as her own over the sink while tapping a powder into it.
"You can't stand the stuff either?" she asked.
He jumped, almost dropping the glass. Judging by his messy hair and unshaven chin, he looked like an apathetic teenager.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." She joined him at the sink.
"No problem." He shrugged and looked at her glass. "You got stuck with the unsweetened stuff too."
Tamarja's turn to shrug. "At least it's not green goop."
The teen rolled his eyes. "It's green this week? Last week it was sort of a grayish orange."
Tamarja feigned gagging, and they both shared a short laugh at the expense of the biotech department.
"Want some of this?" He shook a small baggie, offering to pour some in her glass.
"What is it?"
He gave her an odd look. "You haven't been here long, have you?"
Obviously he hadn't paid attention to all the speech-giving outside. "No, I only arrived a few days ago."
He smirked, showing slightly more interest in her. "It's a sweetener. Native. Very potent, so you just need a little."
He held out the baggie. She held her glass out to accept his offer. Two taps and the kid pulled the baggie back. "Give it a try now."
One sip and sweetness exploded over her tongue. "Hey, I can actually drink this."
The young man nodded and smiled wider, before shoving the baggie into his pants pocket. "See ya later." He half waved to her to head back outside.
"Sure thing. And thanks!" Tamarja took a gulp before putting her glass down and deciding to find a wet room.
As she wandered farther back in the cabin, she realized just how much of her worries had dissipated. She had faced Daeven and all the uncomfortable things she'd imagined would happen hadn't happened. He'd complimented her, asked to talk to her later, in private, with his girlfriend, or his friend, or whoever the heck she was, standing right there. Intriguing and incredibly sexy Security Officer Daeven Blayde wanted to be alone with her. How much better could her day get?
Tamarja left the wet room and made her way back to the kitchen where she had left her drink. Hopefully, no one had taken her glass. Now that the drink had some flavor, she wanted more of it. Grabbing the glass, which didn't look as if it had been disturbed, she took another sip and started to head back outside. She was starving! If only she had eaten a large breakfast, but she had wanted to save her appetite for the party. Everyone here was a colleague of hers, if distantly, and they would be providing most of the food. She figured it would only be polite to sample a little of everything, no matter the color or taste.
She had just dissolved the door when she heard a familiar voice rumble from another room in the house.
Ianyin. He was talking to someone else. Leave it to the men to sit inside on a beautiful day to talk shop. Tamarja looked longingly outside at everyone having fun, but remembered she had wanted to ask about that strange flash of light she had seen on the mountain.
As an engineer who'd lived on Dawn's Landing for a number of years, Ianyin would be the perfect person to ask. Tamarja turned from the door to follow the voice. If she wasn't interrupting anything important, she could ask him now and still get back outside before all the food disappeared.
She passed through what appeared to be a family room, dark and plush with a vaulted ceiling that only made the voices echo and more difficult to locate. After accidentally walking into a closet, she made her way toward the back of the room where another door set on old-fashioned hinges opened to reveal a dusty crawlspace separating two thin subwalls. The second wall also had a door set on hinges, but this one was half-opened. Bright light poured through the door, but Tamarja could still see inside through the crack in the molding, between the hinges.
Ianyin stood toe to toe with another man, not quite as big and burly as Ianyin, but someone who certainly didn't fear challenging the larger man. The room itself appeared to be an office, complete with two messenger nodes, a computer, and a few other unidentifiable gadgets.
"I'm telling you, they're disappearing, just like magic!" the shorter man shouted.
"Having them here in the first place is wrong," Ianyin said, more quietly than she had thought possible for such a large man. "Turning people, even criminals, into puppets is just not ethical. The director shouldn't be forced to employ them."
"I'm not debating the ethics of creating puppets. I'm just saying that in the past quarter we've received four cargo drops filled with ‘pets, and not one of them has been seen after they leave the spaceport."
I should walk away. This is private. But Tamarja listened anyway—she couldn't help herself. They were discussing ‘pets, and she was a ‘pet, sort of.
"Once AuRaKaz started turning a profit, Manitac stepped in and insisted that she use ‘pets to supplement her labor force instead of normal people." Ianyin's voice grew even quieter, as if trying to offset the other man's shouting.
Tamarja leaned closer to the door, almost sticking her nose through the crack, not wanting to miss a word.
Ianyin's tactic didn't work as the other man only shouted louder, his eyes manic. "So where are they? I don't see them. Do you? You say the director doesn't want to employ them, but she imports them anyway. So where are they?"
Clutching her glass, Tamarja thought about that. Except for the one work crew she had seen when her shuttle had arrived, Facility and Habitat Prime had been devoid of ‘pets, except for herself, and she didn't really qualify as the typical ‘pet. The director didn't even know she was one, or at least that was what Yohzad had promised her. Where did the other ‘pets stay? Where did they work if not where Ianyin and this other man could find them?
Tamarja had to strain to hear Ianyin's reply. "We're a growing operation. I don't even try to keep up with all the projects the director is developing. There are always rumors she's setting up new facilities here or a habitat there. Relax. I'm sure they're somewhere. Consider yourself lucky that you haven't been replaced by one."
Tamarja closed her eyes. Was that why she was created? Was she a higher-functioning ‘pet used to replace normal people? Maybe her predecessor had simply become too expensive to maintain. As a prisoner and as a newcomer, Tamarja probably didn't earn half as much as a normal pilot. She could marry and have kids, but why would she, when Manitac could separate her from any family she created at a whim? There would be fewer colonists to support if they created a colony of nonbreeding ‘pets.
Wouldn't the director know if she was saving money by employing a ‘pet as a personal pilot? It didn't make any sense.
She wanted to hear more, but sudden movement from behind her almost sent her glass slipping out of her hand. Spinning around, she found herself face-to-face with Jita.
"Are they at it again?"
Tamarja frowned as Jita stood on tiptoe to look over her shoulder. "What's this all about?" she whispered, as Jita fiddled with her ear jack.
Jita whispered a voice message to her sister, asking her to come back to the house. "Ianyin has always hated working with ‘pets." She answered Tamarja after she sent the message. "He says Manitac is creating slave labor to cut down on costs for its operations, taking away decent paying jobs from Unity citizens."
Tamarja digested that, letting Jita tug on her shirt sleeve, pulling her away from the argument. "Yet he works for AuRaKaz, which uses ‘pets."
"The director didn't always use them." Jita nodded to Ornit as her sister dashed by them, heading for her husband. Jita continued to lead Tamarja outside, her voice rising as the outdoor sounds of kids yelling and music playing made whispering imposs
ible. "She insisted on hiring normal laborers. That's one of the reasons she needs hostesses like me. ‘Pets don't need our services. You just set them to work, give them access to food and shelter, and they're content. They don't think outside of working, eating, sleeping, and taking care of basic necessities."
Tamarja absently slipped a finger under her hair and rubbed her collar. ‘Pets like her would need the services of a hostess. How much had Jita helped her since she arrived? Her friend—and Jita was her friend—had provided her with directions, a schedule, a new satchel, and advice.
And what about her feelings for Daeven? Could ‘pets feel what she felt for Daeven? She didn't even know what she was feeling, except that the prospect of seeing Daeven again, in private, sent shivers of anticipation skipping over her nerves.
"The director's only been importing them these last few quarters," Jita continued, almost sounding embarrassed for her employer.
"So where do you think they are? The missing ‘pets that Ianyin was talking about."
Jita bit her lip. "I don't know, but like he said, they have to be somewhere on Dawn's Landing."
An ugly thought crossed Tamarja's mind. If Manitac insisted on foisting ‘pets on the director's operation, and the director decided she didn't want to deal with ‘pets, wouldn't it be easier to kill them? Would Manitac notice? Would anyone care? Was Tamarja herself at risk?
Lifting her glass, so Jita wouldn't notice her panic, Tamarja gulped down the rest of her drink.
"You certainly seemed to have warmed up to the unsweetened juice." Jita gave her a self-satisfied “I knew you'd like it“ smirk, dismissing the nasty topic of missing ‘pets.
Tamarja closed her eyes for a moment as the fruit juice gurgled in her stomach. Then she opened her eyes and realized this party was not the time or the place to dwell on things she couldn't change. Taking a deep breath, she marveled for a moment on how sweet the air smelled, how warm the sun's light felt, and how hungry she still was.
"Yep, unsweetened is the way to go." No point in disappointing her friend by admitting she had added sweetener to the drink.
"C'mon, then." Jita led Tamarja back to the food tables. "Let's see what's left of the desserts."
Tamarja found herself almost skipping behind her friend.
Tamarja ate more than she ever remembered, each piece of cake or slice of pie tasting better than the one before it. Jita kept the conversation flowing, introducing her to everyone—though Tamarja doubted she would remember any of the names in the morning.
The folks who sat around the table peppered her with the questions she had dreaded answering this morning. Thanks to an emergency comm to Yohzad, she had a prepared set of answers to give.
The story he had provided her with worked. So far, no one had shown any interest in her or her family beyond where she was born and how many colonies she'd lived on. No one claimed to have lived on any of the colonies on Yohzad's list, so she was safe, lifting one more worry off her shoulders.
She didn’t remember ever feeling so good, so free. She felt like dancing to the music that weaved through the air. She might even dance with Daeven if she could find him.
The sun was starting to set, however, so if she were going to have that private chat with Daeven, it would have to be soon.
Tapping Jita on the shoulder while she stood, Tamarja told her, "I'm going to take a walk."
"Going to find Daeven?" Jita guessed.
Tamarja laughed, throwing her head back as though Jita's question was funnier than what it was. "You bet I am!"
She threaded her way through the tables. Off to one side, sulking near the music generator, was that nice boy who'd given her the sweetener. He stood with a few other boys who appeared to be his own age. She waved in his general direction. He didn't wave back but instead turned his head to whisper to his friends, pretending not to see her. That was fine. She'd have to find out from someone else how she could get more of that sweetener. It would sure help the next time Jita stopped by with some weird colored goop.
So where would the mysterious Daeven Blayde be hiding? Oh, yeah, the kids had dragged him off to play spheres.
She didn't have to go far, walking with a bounce in her step back to where the floaters were parked. A wide field of short green grass sloping down into the canyon provided the best location for a game of spheres. She spotted Daeven's bright-blue shirt first. He lay sprawled on the ground with some of the kids. Serriga lay nearby, also sprawled with another set of kids. They must have broken up into teams, boys versus girls from the look of it.
Though she walked straight ahead, she felt as if she were on a boat, listing to one side. Her whole world started to tilt at a crazy angle. She didn't care. She felt too good to care.
She kept walking forward, her mood lifting even higher with every step. Daeven looked so good, a feast for the eyes with his hair plastered with sweat against his forehead and his long, muscular legs stretched out in front of him. Suddenly, she didn't care who he'd brought with him to the party. Tamarja was going to kiss Officer Arrogant, Aloof, I don't even like you Daeven Blayde.
The world grew more colorful the closer she got to him. Her legs felt lighter, as if she were walking on clouds.
He opened his eyes as she reached him, her body casting a shadow over his face. "Hi, Tamarja."
"Who won?" she demanded.
He groaned a bit as he sat up, dislodging a few of the kids and brushing dirt and leaves off his clothes. "They did." He nodded toward the group of girls.
His voice sounded like music.
"That's too bad," she said.
He finally finished grooming and looked at her. "What's wrong?"
"Why would anything be wrong?" She felt her grin widen now that he stood right in front of her. He smelled even better than he looked. She reached for him, wanting to run her hands over his chest.
"What are you doing?" He grabbed her hands before she could yank his shirt up over his chest.
She tried to pull free. She needed to pull his clothes off and get a better look at what was underneath.
"What's going on over here?"
Tamarja growled at the sound of the girlfriend's voice as she came up from behind her. NO! Daeven was hers!
The more she struggled, the harder Daeven clutched her hands.
"Ouch! You're hurting me!" The pain of having her wrists locked together in one of Daeven's large hands sent sharp colors spiking through her vision, ruining the lovely canvas she had painted for herself.
With his free hand, Daeven grabbed her jaw, holding her head still. "Serriga, her eyes are dilated, and her breath smells sweet."
"Okay, kids, everyone up! We're going to see who can run back to the cabin the fastest! Winner gets an extra dessert," Serriga yelled. "Three, two, one, go!"
Tamarja stopped struggling. Instead, she tried a new tactic and leaned into Daeven. No sooner had she managed to press herself against him than his partner yanked her back.
Tamarja tried to kick her nemesis, but the bitch dodged her easily. She started to scream, but Daeven released her jaw and slapped his hand over her mouth.
"Stop struggling!" he ordered, his breath tickling her nose.
"It's Black Wave," Serriga said. "It has to be."
She bit Daeven's fingers, forcing his hand away from her mouth. "What waves?"
That was all she could ask before her legs gave out and she sank into a dream.
Chapter Thirteen
Daeven caught Tamarja before she hit the ground.
"That's one of the worst reactions I've seen in months." Daeven cradled Tamarja in his arms while Serriga knelt next to him, ready to check her vitals.
"Someone must have slipped a dose into her drink," he said. "She hasn't been here long enough to have found a seller."
"You never know…"
"I know her!" Daeven shouted. He glanced over his shoulder. No one had heard his stupid, uncontrolled outburst. Find your control. You're better than this. Serriga is doing her job. Yo
u'd be suspicious too if it were anyone but Tamarja. "She's a lot of things"—dangerous, troublemaker, deceiver—"but she's not an addict."
Tamarja started convulsing, her entire body heaving off the ground and slamming down again. Daeven scooped up the upper half of her and held her close.
"We need to get her into detox. Go find Jita Tessier while I get her into our floater. Jita can probably give us a list of suspects. Tell the Teloris to hold on to their garbage. We'll have to come back to find which cup she used." Serriga stood up to leave, but Daeven reached out and grabbed her arm. "And keep it quiet. If anyone asks, she had an allergic reaction to a yellow pitch-zinger bite."
Serriga gave him a strange look, but Daeven didn't care. He and Serriga had been security partners long enough for her to trust his instincts, even when he didn't trust his own. He looked back down at Tamarja, whose convulsions had slowed to mere shivers. The convulsions would come back though if they didn't get her detoxed soon. As carefully as he could, he lifted her off the ground and carried her over to their parked floater.
Daeven dissolved the passenger-side door and sat Tamarja in the seat as best he could, but her head flopped forward. From this angle, he could see the back of her neck and the nubs of what could only be a puppet collar.
He shouldn't have been shocked. The moment he realized she didn't remember him, he should have known Manitac would have erased her memory, but to actually see the evidence of a collar…it only made him hurt worse. But she wasn’t a mindless slave. How was that possible?
Just when I thought I had you excised from my life, from my thoughts, you drop back into my lap. Why couldn't you stay away?
He bit back the logical answer that she had no choice in her assignment here. He couldn't afford to feel sorry for her, though, and that was exactly where his emotions were leaning.
From the edge of his vision, he saw two people break free from the party crowd and rush over to the makeshift parking area. In moments, Jita and Ianyin squatted next to him.
