by Lara LaRue
I read the screen quickly, noting something mentioning propagation vats and a percentage: 10%, rising to 12% in the brief few moments I watched.
Tabirus adjusted a dial and pressed a button. “Go on.”
“Norcross was able to get a room full of drone operators to go along with his plans. Then he was able to go behind Wickman’s back and tap a hundred men to come down in dropships to try to take Highfort. To do that, he must have both a talent for persuasion and at least some outside help. Someone from Earth is helping him move around his superior and use people to get what Earth Command wants done. And at least some of the troops support Norcross far more than Wickman. If they find out Wickman is rebelling against Earth Command, even more will turn against him. Even if he is ethically in the right.” And my woman is caught in the middle of all of it.
Tabirus blinked slowly and then offered a faint smile. “I believe we can sway the bulk of the humans here against Norcross,” he insisted.
I scowled at him as I stood beside his chair, watching the screen. Its mostly black surface gave back a shadow of my long, pale face and hair, reducing my eyes to a pair of gold crescents. “Explain. And your plan had better not involve an appeal to their consciences.”
He smiled slowly. Over his shoulder, I saw the readout reach 18%. “It is not human consciences, but human consciousness I seek to appeal to today.”
Before I could ask what the cryptic Ancient meant, the door to the lab opened, and a man in more of those laboratory whites strode in with his coat flapping. “Dr. Stirling!” the man called as he looked around. He reminded me a bit of Grace with his dark-brown eyes and short, tightly curled hair. His skin was paler than hers, a bit like my father’s, and he spoke with a slight, drawly accent I could not place. “You called for my assistance?”
He drew up short as he saw me standing unmanacled by the doctor. “What . . . what’s this?” he asked in shock.
“There’s no reason to be alarmed, Dr. Eastman. Our captive has been given a fail-safe injection to ensure his cooperation.” He glanced my way, and I sensed his thoughts at once. He will think I have injected you with destructive nanites that will kill you if I use a remote signal, so try not to look too comfortable.
I thought of Grace facing our enemies alone and manacled upstairs, and my mouth worked. That will not be a problem.
The man blinked as I glowered at him. “You’re . . . sure?” he asked the doctor, keeping a wary distance.
“Absolutely. Now please, come have a look. I’ve isolated and cultured the Lyran symbiont they call the Golden Strain.” He gestured toward the screen, and the man’s eyes lit up.
He stepped forward beside us to peer at the readout. “What kind of proteins are these? I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“This is completely new, my dear Eastman. It’s an adaptive organism, which has proven compatibility with humans. It can even adapt to animal systems and enhance their survival ability in hostile environments.” He laid a hand on the man’s shoulder, and I felt his mind push against the other’s in a way I couldn’t quite comprehend.
“That’s amazing! Something like this . . . it could really help back on Earth. We have entire ecosystems decimated. If something like this could shore them up. . . .” He moved toward the screen, like a night insect dazzled by a flame.
“It could do a lot more than that.” Tabirus pointed at the readout. “I’m currently propagating a large sample in medium for study. We don’t know how stable the symbiont is outside of a living system, so we’re going to need as much as possible to work with.”
“Did this come from his blood?” He paused to glance at me again, and I deepened my scowl. He looked away quickly and edged a bit closer to Tabirus.
“No, it came from Dr. Bryant’s. She was exposed while planet-side.”
Eastman’s jaw dropped. He had little bits of gray in his hair, I noticed, but his large eyes and enthusiastic manner reminded me of a much younger man. “She was? Oh my—what did it do to her? Is she all right?”
I closed my eyes, my mind drifting back to the night my Grace had chosen to inoculate herself with the Golden Strain. She had not done it for science or survival, or by accident, as many of the humans might assume. I felt my heart lift despite the current circumstances, and a warm wash of desire flooded me simply at the memory. She had done it for me. She had introduced the Strain into her system to awaken the senses she needed to feel the mating bond that existed between us. And then . . .
My hands flexed at my sides. It had been only hours since I last held her in my arms. Only hours since we had shuddered together in the climax of the ancient dance. But I needed it again. The softness of her body, the smell of her hair, the little musical sounds of pleasure she made as I thrust into her. The link would always feed her pleasure back to me, and her desire, guiding my hands and body even as they echoed delightfully in my own nerve endings. When the time finally came, one release would drag the other over the precipice in a feedback loop of pleasure so intense it made us scream. Even in the midst of an interplanetary crisis, the thought of her made me crave her so badly that my nails dug into my palms.
“May I have a look at one of the samples?” Eastman asked eagerly.
Tabirus nodded and moved over to the propagation vat, tapping the controls. A moment later, a clear, covered dish the size of his palm slid out of a slot. I saw him grab it and turn around, and the moment his hands were out of Eastman’s sight, he flipped open the lid and dipped his finger into the sparkling golden powder within.
I watched impassively, despite the sudden surge of shock and curiosity that ran through me. Tabirus’s amusement brushed against my mind, tickling. What are you up to? I thought at him suspiciously.
Just what I said. These soldiers and scientists are in need of . . . enlightening. Once I’m done with them, not a single one of them will be willing to follow a monster like Norcross.
My brows drew together as Tabirus came back with the sample. What do you mean?
Watch and see, my warlike friend.
I watched him bring the sample to the fascinated human scientist, who took the little dish in hand and bent his head over it in fascination. “How does it work? Is it airborne?”
“Ingested, introduced through a wound or through the pores, actually. I suppose it could be aspirated, but it dries out easily in open air.” A lie, which I noticed but did not comment on. He laid that paternal hand on the younger scientist’s shoulder . . . and I saw the finger he had dipped into the Golden Strain sample tap once against the bare back of Eastman’s neck. He left a single golden fingerprint behind, which sparkled and started to spread.
Eastman didn’t notice. He took the dish over to another of the machines and set it down on a tray set into the machine. He put his eyes to a viewing scope of some kind in the top and hit a few buttons. “This is amazing,” he breathed in something almost like joy. “It divides so fast in medium. I only wonder how long it takes to propagate in a human body.”
“Several minutes, if that,” Tabirus said with a smile. On the back of the man’s neck, the golden patch spread and spread, gleaming as it sank into his skin. “Of course, it takes the human body and brain about a week to adjust to it.”
“What happens during that adjustment period? Will Grace, I mean, Dr. Bryant be available for questioning?”
“Once they’re done with her downstairs, she’s all ours,” Tabirus reassured. “But suffice it to say the adjustment period tends to be a bit . . . disorienting.”
I exchanged glances with the Ancient, who winked, and I suddenly started to suspect what at least part of his plan was. My eyes widened and then went back to the propagation vats. They were huge, taller than I was, broader than the span of my arms, eight in all. And according to the computer, he was filling every last one of them with Golden Strain spores. The readout now read 25%. It wouldn’t be long before they all filled completely.
Grace, my darling, I thought with a surge of hope. Hold on. So
on, we will be together again . . . and start engineering our enemies’ defeat. Or better yet, make them simply not be enemies anymore.
CHAPTER 20 / GRACE
They got me hooked up to the interrogation machine, sensors on my temples and the back of my neck, as well as my wrists. I knew if I lied or allowed myself to get too nervous, I would end up violently shocked by the device, which would also set off an alarm. I struggled to focus, knowing now was the time for me to really come through. We had one chance to really get Wickman’s ear. Without it, I had no doubt I would have to make every human on the base my enemy in order for us to escape. And after that, war would be inevitable.
“All right, now . . .” The commander leaned back in his chair. “I want a full accounting of your actions on Lyra.”
“Yes, sir.” He had already made a mistake; the machine could not detect lies of omission. Good, because I’m not describing to him all the time I’ve spent screwing the local high chieftain’s heir. Now and again, Dekkir’s mind brushed against mine reassuringly, bolstering me. I felt it again and lifted my chin, speaking in an even tone.
“I entered Lyra’s atmosphere at the appointed time, only to discover the calculations Norcross’s team had made for my landing speed, trajectory, and wing deployment had left me coming in at an almost fatal speed. With the assistance of Dr. Stirling, I was able to correct, but I was attacked by some of the local wildlife while distracted with this and crashed.”
He blinked slowly. “Local wildlife? I know your dropship was small, but one animal managed to take it down?”
“Plant, actually. It’s called a beastvine, sir. It’s basically a gigantic version of one of Earth’s carnivorous plants. It senses vibrations. When it detects prey, it lashes out a very large tendril, which is covered in a sticky sap. Once it grabs its prey, it cannot move again for a significant period, so the sap holds what it catches until it can absorb it. I was just unlucky enough to fly within its sensing range, and . . . bam.”
He winced. “I’m surprised you weren’t killed.”
“I was just as surprised at the time, sir. At any rate, the Lyran War Chief Dekkir had been sent to rendezvous with me. He managed to get me loose of the vine and helped me return to their capitol, Highfort, with him.” And that was when he recognized me as his true mate. But at the time, my senses weren’t awakened, and I had no idea what he was talking about. Even if I noticed how hot he was then. He really was. Almost seven feet of muscle, silky pale skin, flowing white-gold hair, golden eyes, and rumbling voice, usually in black armor, with a giant spear across his back. He was a sight that would make any girl who was into guys get all curly-toed . . . and he was mine.
Norcross fidgeted in his seat. Wickman eyed him, and he subsided.
The commander looked back at me. “How were you received?”
“With suspicion. The Lyrans are nearly as xenophobic as we are. Dr. Stirling had made some headway with them, but they tend to take us as individuals only and suspect us highly as a group. If you prove yourself to them, they can be very good allies. If you make an enemy of them, as the lieutenant has done—”
Norcross scoffed again, only to fall silent when he saw the commander raise an annoyed eyebrow.
Wickman coughed into his fist. “I understand. So you were not well received.”
“Not by all. High Chieftain Dorin is very suspicious by nature. But his son Dekkir received me warmly enough.” I glanced over at Norcross, amused when he turned purple.
“Too warmly, apparently, you little whore.”
Wickman slapped his palm down on his desktop. “Norcross. This is not the time for your sexual jealousy. You were written up three times for unwanted overtures during her time on base. It may surprise you to know I remember that. Now stow it.” He turned back to me. “Go on.”
“I had some difficulty adjusting to some of the local customs.” Like a besotted Dekkir announcing me as his intended before the entire court barely an hour after I arrived. That had been horribly awkward at the time, but looking back on it now, I could almost laugh. Poor Dekkir, so aroused and delighted by his discovery of me as his true mate that his normal iron control hadn’t done a thing to curb his enthusiasm. “But before I could find a resolution for this, Highfort was attacked by an insect swarm. To give perspective, each one was roughly the size of a two-person dropship. I was able to witness examples of Lyran military prowess as a result of this, as I mentioned in my second report.” A report filed by Tabirus in my stead, the contents of which he had briefed me on telepathically on the way over. “The swarm was taken care of with few casualties, but during the attack, I was trapped out in the open. If it were not for the Lyrans, I would have ended up bug food.”
The commander had pulled out his tablet and was keying in notes as I spoke, his expression both fascinated and a bit horrified. “I see. So what happened then?”
“By that time, I had filed my first report. I believe a copy of it should be on your server. It contained image files of the Lyran throne room, including where High Chieftain Dorin sits and what he looks like. I got a very good image of him. Unfortunately, this turned out to be a mistake. You see, as I was attempting to simply do my job of extending friendly overtures and documenting Lyran society and customs, someone else back here on base intended to foment war with Lyra as quickly as possible.”
I spoke on quietly, describing the chaos that happened when Dorin had been found poisoned by an assassination drone sent from the moon base.
The commander listened to my description of the scene with shock slowly widening his watery eyes. “I never gave the order for that.” He glanced at Norcross, who looked away quickly.
I sighed with relief. “I’m actually glad to hear that, sir. But it happened. And because I was the only human around, I was taken captive and interrogated.”
The red-haired science officer next to me gasped. The guards shifted uncomfortably, and Wickman’s eyebrows rose. Only Norcross seemed completely unaffected by the mention that I had been, as far as they knew, tortured. They didn’t know about Lyran empathy or telepathy, and I wasn’t about to let them know.
When I looked over at Norcross, though, I realized he wasn’t indifferent; he was smiling. Disgusted, I turned away. Let him think his petty sadism hurt me. In reality, I just hoped I got to see Dekkir put a spear through his black heart soon.
The commander looked between me and the interrogation machine that had not given off so much as a blip so far. I drew a deep breath, preparing to be very selective with the truth for a while. The last thing they needed to know right now was that the Golden Strain had granted every single Lyran, as well as myself, some form of psychic ability. That was the way in which I had been interrogated. It had been awkward and uncomfortable but painless, and they had gotten at the truth, which had exonerated me.
“I’m surprised they allowed you to keep making reports at that point,” Wickman commented. “Did they imprison you?”
“No, sir. I was placed under guard, but not jailed. The Lyran way tends toward forced labor instead. I was brought to a hostel run by their most famous healer and became her assistant, aiding her in discovering a cure for the poison. It took about a week, but we were eventually successful.” I didn’t bring up that was when I had inoculated myself with the Golden Strain in order to both awaken my psychic abilities and feel my half of the mating bond I shared with Dekkir. All Wickman really needed to know was I had been forced to work for the Lyrans.
He cleared his throat. “So the assassination attempt was unsuccessful, and you were forced to assist with the high chieftain’s convalescence. Obviously, you were not allowed to provide us with any information about your captivity or punishment at the time.”
“No, sir, that was not permitted.” Although, that was technically only because my communications device had been taken away as soon as the assassination attempt had been discovered.
“What happened after that?” Wickman took a few more notes.
I spoke very
carefully. “Lieutenant Norcross has asserted that I betrayed Earth Command. In reality, I was still attempting to do my job and pave the way for a potential trade agreement and alliance. At the time, all of my commanding officers, including yourself, had led me to believe that was what Earth Command wanted.” I stared into his eyes until he couldn’t hold my gaze, then went on. “By that time, the symbiont that exists on Lyra had entered my system. Upon discovering I was genetically compatible with the symbiont, and thus with Lyrans, an arrangement was made to solidify a more formal alliance. I became engaged to their war chief, Dekkir.”
More like I finally admitted to the bond that already existed once I was able to finally sense it. The symbiont only made me aware of it, and then we . . . formalized things. I looked over at Norcross, who was squirming in his seat with a petulant look. Eat it, you. I’ve never climaxed so hard in my life, and you weren’t even involved.
Wickman looked up from his tablet with a frown. “Wait a second. How come you didn’t report in to us about this development?”
My cheeks got hot, and I looked down. “Partly because my communications were restricted.” As in nonexistent. “As for the rest, that’s honestly kind of awkward to talk about. But if you really want to know the details, I’ll explain it. Just not in front of the man who has sexually harassed me for my entire stay.”
Lieutenant Norcross stood up so fast that he knocked over his chair. “I’ve had about enough of this. Clearly, the interrogation device is malfunctioning. She’s been feeding you lies and manipulations this entire time!”
The commander stared at him, his expression deadpan. “You know, Lieutenant, I haven’t noticed any signs of malfunction, and the machine was tested prior to being brought up here.” He glanced at the redhead, who nodded confirmation. “I have, however, noticed that you’ve gotten increasingly agitated the longer Grace has talked. Apparently, you don’t want her telling me the truth. Maybe it’s because she knows more than you thought. Or maybe it’s because she never committed any kind of betrayal aside from attempting to carry out her orders the best she could in a shifting situation.”
