The alley was even more disgusting in the revealing light of day. Without releasing her hand, he hurried out onto the adjacent street. “Do you need anything from your domicile before I summon a shuttle?”
Instead of answering, she tugged free from his light hold and held out her hand, palm up. “May I have my disk back please? You said I’m not your prisoner. Prove it.” She met his gaze, her expression challenging. If he hadn’t seen all the other warning signs, he likely would have believed her.
He hesitated. If he refused, he revealed his doubts. Yet giving her the disk basically assured that she would try to escape him. He opened his fingers and dropped the disk into her outstretched hand. His mood plummeted as the device fell through the air. Now he had twelve hours to secure her aboard the Triumphant or she would teleport to the cave without him.
Of course, if the panic button worked, he’d be able to find her again.
“Feel better?” He forced aside his frustration and smiled. “You’re not my prisoner. Do you believe me now?”
She licked her lips and started walking, but not before he saw guilt spark in her eyes. “Don’t take it personally. I don’t trust anyone.”
He fell in step beside her, easily matching her shorter strides. “Where are we going?”
“To my apartment. I tend to travel light, so it will just take me a minute to pack. Unless,” she looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, “will you wait long enough for me to take a shower? After a ten-hour shift at the bar and fourteen hours in that cave, I’m desperate for some hot water.”
“There are showers on my ship,” he countered just to be obstinate. She likely intended to turn on the water then crawl out the bathroom window. Oldest trick in the book.
She shrugged, but looked annoyed. “If you can stand the smell a while longer, so can I.”
Rowville was small, so it only took a few minutes to reach the twelve-unit complex where she’d been living. Her one-room apartment was on the third level, so he began to wonder about her motivation for wanting a shower. Was she desperate enough to risk serious injury just to be away from him? He looked over the bathroom while she packed. The window was large enough to climb through, but it was at least a twenty-five foot drop to the ground.
“Change your mind about letting me shower?” she asked from the doorway. She had a backpack slung over one arm and her expression was unreadable.
If she made her move now, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about her doing something even more dangerous later. Besides, he needed to know for certain where they stood. “If all you want is a shower, I can wait.”
“It is, and I appreciate it. I won’t take long, I promise.”
Immediately she started avoiding his gaze again and Sedrik swore under his breath. “Take your time. I’ll check in with my crew and arrange transportation.”
“Thanks.”
He brushed against her as he left the tiny bathroom and awareness tingled through him. Protectiveness swelled as well, and it was all he could do not to yank her into his arms and com for an emergency evacuation. When he hesitated a moment too long, she gave him a little shove.
She closed and locked the door as soon as he crossed the threshold, and he allowed himself a frustrated sigh before launching into action. He commed the control center on the Triumphant and quickly explained what had happened, then requested one of the Phantoms be dispatched to his location.
“Zilor is still out looking for you, sir,” Tyrale, Sedrik’s first officer, explained. “It might be fastest just to contact him.”
“Copy that.” Guilt compounded the tension knotting Sedrik’s shoulders. Zilor was stubborn and loyal to a fault. Of course he was out searching. Sedrik should have expected this.
“I’ll dispatch a Phantom, just in case,” Tyrale offered. “They can always be recalled if you locate Zilor.”
“I’ll contact you either way,” Sedrik told him then pinched off the connection.
He tried several private frequencies before he located the one Zilor was monitoring.
“Where in hells’ rings have you been?” Zilor sounded frantic and tired. “I thought that bitch vaporized you or something. Your signal just blinked out. I’d never seen anything like it.”
“Long story. I’m back in Rowville and in need of a ride. What’s your E.T.A.?”
“Eight minutes if I push it, fifteen if I don’t.”
“Push it,” Sedrik stressed. “I need you now.”
“On my way.”
“Wait. Scan for my panic button.”
After a short pause, Zilor said, “Got it. But it’s nowhere near Rowville. Isn’t that where you said you are?”
He hadn’t meant to confuse Zilor, so he kept the explanation simple. “The panic button is broadcasting from where I spent the night. Note the coordinates in case you lose the signal. There’s a portal at that location. We need to be able to return at some point so it can be destroyed.”
“Understood. Now I’m still headed to Rowville. Correct?”
“Correct.” Sedrik smiled. “See you soon.”
Knowing what he’d discover, he returned to the bathroom and knocked on the door. “Rebecca? Is everything all right in there?” No response. He hadn’t expected there to be, but he knocked again for good measure. When there was no reaction to his second knock, he kicked open the door and found what he’d expected to find, an empty bathroom, running shower, and an open window.
Did she really hate him so much, she’d risk a twenty-five foot drop? Not willing to believe that was the case, he leaned out the window and looked at the building itself. A primitive fire escape ran from the roof to the ground. Relieved by the discovery, he replaced the screen, closed and locked the window, then returned to the outer room.
He closed his eyes and accessed the transfer link. He couldn’t, or actually wouldn’t, use the connection to spy on her, but this was different. She was in more danger than she cared to admit and she wasn’t ready to trust him. He found her stubbornness frustrating, but her safety had to come first. Humans broadcast bursts of strong emotion, so the link would tell him if she was in danger. The connection also allowed him to locate her, so he wasn’t overly concerned about her escape attempt.
Her signal grew weaker with alarming speed. She must have had a vehicle stashed somewhere. Zilor bio-streamed Sedrik onto Hunter Three a short time later, and Sedrik concentrated on the link. “She’s heading north on I-17.”
Zilor looked at his navigator expectantly.
Finlott said, “Got it.” And quickly changed course.
It took six minutes to locate her, but once Sedrik was certain he knew which car she was driving, Zilor revealed the next surprise.
“None of my sensors are detecting her.” He motioned to the main viewscreen and shook his head. “Clearly she’s right there, but according to all of my sensors, she doesn’t exist.”
“Then you can’t bio-stream her onto the ship?” The second she was aboard, Sedrik had planned to obliterate her vehicle so it couldn’t cause an accident. Forcing her to stop on her own would be much more complicated.
“I can’t lock on to something that doesn’t exist.”
“Get in front of her and come about.” Technically, Zilor commanded Hunter Three, but Finlott accepted the directive without even glancing at Zilor.
The agile ship accelerated, then swung in a tight half circle and positioned itself directly in front of Rebecca’s car. They could see her now. Her eyes were huge and she seemed to be debating what to do. She could still see the road in front of her, but she had to know this was a warning.
She continued on as if a spaceship weren’t right in front of her.
“Where does she think she’s going?” If the levity in Finlott’s tone was any indication, he found her stubbornness amusing.
“Shall I shoot out her tires?” Zilor wasn’t quite as entertained as his navigator.
“Can you do them all simultaneously? I do not want her to lose control of the vehi
cle.”
“Not a problem.” Zilor launched four targeted blasts into the car’s tires.
Rebecca mouthed a filthy word then slammed on the brakes. The car fishtailed a bit, but stopped without endangering the driver.
“Set down. I’ll be right back.” Sedrik threw off his safety restraints and jogged for the hatch, triggering the opening the second after he felt the ship touch down. He leaped to the pavement without bothering with the stairs then sprinted toward his defiant mate.
“You had no right to stop me or damage my car!” She’d gotten out of the car and was stomping toward him.
His patience was at an end and he wasn’t in the mood for an argument. He bent and lifted her to his shoulder, carrying her back to the ship as she screamed, kicked and punched his back.
“Put me down, you Neanderthal! You said I wasn’t your prisoner.”
“Then why did you run away the first chance you got?”
“Because I knew you were lying!”
He smacked her squirming behind. “Stop wiggling or I’ll drop you on your head.”
She gasped. “Is that a threat?”
He’d meant it literally, but he didn’t bother replying. She needed to calm down if he hoped to have a rational conversation with her. In truth, he needed to calm down too.
Tightening his hold on her thighs, he carefully maneuvered up the stairs and through the hatchway. He lowered her into the nearest seat and stood over her, making sure she didn’t bolt for the still open hatch.
“Fasten your safety restraints.”
She glared at him. “Screw you.”
He dug the straps out from behind her and pulled them across her chest. They connected to a shorter strap between her thighs. If they hadn’t had an audience, it might have been enjoyable to provoke her. Instead, he motioned toward the strap. “Hold it for me or I’ll do it myself.” Her only answer was another scowl, so he reached between her legs and grabbed the strap, the back of his hand rubbing her intimately.
She allowed the contact for only a second before slapping his hands away and securing the buckles herself. “You were enjoying that a little too much.”
He heard a snicker, but wasn’t sure if Zilor or Finlott had made the sound.
Once Rebecca was secured, he turned around and closed the hatch.
“Where to?” Zilor asked. The cockpit was separate from the main seating area, but at present the door was open.
“To the Triumphant. I’ve had enough of this planet and its irrational occupants.”
“Yes, sir.” Zilor glanced at him and grinned, no longer trying to hide his amusement.
Chapter Six
Exasperated beyond reason, Jim Dayton threw his coffee mug at William Leer, the lead engineer of Station Five. The terrified man ducked and crossed his arms over his head. The ceramic missile bounced off his elbow, breaking into several pieces as it hit the wall next to him.
“Are you trying to get me killed?” Jim shouted. “Don’t you realize the Evonti will come for you right after they’ve murdered me? You promised you’d have the portal online by this morning.”
“We honestly thought we had it,” William protested, arms still covering his head. He peeked between his arms, likely to make sure Jim didn’t have anything else to throw at him, then cautiously lowered them to his sides.
“They don’t care about excuses. All they care about are results.” Jim closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “I’ll be back at five. If this station isn’t operational, I’ll kill you myself!” He stormed from the basement room, slamming the door hard enough to make his hand sting. If it weren’t for the alloy reinforcements protecting the portal, the destructive power of the L.A. Massacre would have collapsed the underground level right along with the four-story office building that had once served as a decoy for Station Five. As it was, weeks of painstaking excavation had been necessary before Jim’s workers located the entrance to the lab. Now the engineers were struggling to repair the damage and Abaddon had run out of patience.
Like an automaton, Jim hiked through the piles of rubble until he reached the nearest street intact enough to accommodate automobiles. For a moment, he couldn’t remember which car was his. Not too surprising, considering he changed cars every few days. He opened the door and slid in behind the wheel. Frequently switching automobiles was essential if he wanted to stay ahead of the battle born, and until he figured out a way to remove the Evonti implants, he needed to make damn sure the battle born didn’t catch him. The Evonti surveillance of him was continual now. If the battle born found him, he’d be dead before they had time to slap him in restraints.
He rested his hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, unseeing and unable to move. He’d had three seizures since Abaddon’s excruciating pulse the day before. Jim wasn’t sure if the damage was permanent, but he couldn’t seem to focus and his emotions had been erratic, or more erratic than normal. His moods had been volatile for years.
He couldn’t blame his personality on the Evonti. They merely manipulated and amplified his natural inclinations. He’d always had anger issues. Even as a child he’d thrown fits and smashed things until his mother took him to a shrink who put him on meds that made him feel like a zombie. As he approached his teens, he’d learned coping mechanisms and was finally mature enough to control the impulses so he could ween himself off the drugs.
Rebecca’s sweet image popped into his mind, adding shame to his misery. Rebecca was his one regret, a truly innocent victim in all this intrigue. He’d done everything in his power to protect her, but it hadn’t been enough.
Jim was nineteen when the Evonti spoke with him for the first time. He wasn’t sure if it had taken them that long to learn English or if they’d just never had anything to say before that night. They’d snatched him out of bed, their favorite place for his abductions, but they’d led him into the Evonti version of an office instead of the usual medical center.
The memory was so clear it could have happened hours, rather than nearly two decades ago. He wore only Metallica boxers, but the Evonti didn’t seem to care. When Jim emerged from the misty haze that always overcame him, he was walking down a narrow corridor and knew instinctively where to go. He still wasn’t sure if he’d been on a ship or in a building. With unadorned, slate-gray walls and nothing resembling a window, it was impossible to decide. Each Evonti he passed ignored him, so he just kept walking.
When he reached an intersection of passageways, he turned left, then knew he was meant to enter a room halfway down on the right. Two Evonti stood in the stark gray room, black eyes openly assessing. They hadn’t bothered with clothes at all, which made him feel overdressed. Even in memory, the thought made him smile. Their skin, or Evonti equivalent, was grayish green with a brown geometric pattern. They had no ears and a lipless slit served as a mouth. A rippled ridge ran from their foreheads to the nape of their necks and their bodies were thin and gangly. Compared to the rest of their featureless face, their eyes were enormous, almond shaped and black as pitch.
“What do you want with me?” Jim masked his fear with bravado.
They’d never spoken before, so he hadn’t expected an answer. But one of the aliens stepped forward and said, “Offspring.”
“We expect you to breed,” the other clarified.
Jim laughed, rubbing his hand over his stubbly jaw. “Dude, I’m a nineteen-year-old male. I ‘breed’ every chance I get.”
“Not with the chosen female,” the first one argued. His voice was so emotionless it sounded computerized.
“You’ve chosen a female for me to ‘breed’ with?” He accented the offensive word with finger quotes.
The more articulate Evonti stepped past his friend. “You can seduce her on your own or we will bring her here and supervise each of the sessions. The choice is yours, ambassador, but we expect offspring within the solar cycle.”
“Why did you call me ambassador?” It was an irrelevant detail, but Jim ha
d to know.
“You are one of the chosen few. We watch over you and learn from you, so our other interactions with humans can be more meaningful.”
That was how they justified years of torture and experimentation? Unbelievable. “How do I resign from the position?”
The talkative one made a sound sort of like a laugh, but didn’t answer the question.
Jim’s soul mourned as he remembered what came next. They showed him an image of Rebecca, the sweet innocent girl he’d known most of his life. “She’s a child, much too young for breeding. Choose someone else.”
The Evonti looked at each other and fell silent, as if they were communicating telepathically.
“The female is physically mature,” chatty Evonti said. “She has started menstruating. She is fertile.”
“She’s only fifteen,” Jim sneered. “I’m way too old for her. Choose someone else.”
“What is the appropriate age for human breeding?”
Without thinking of all the possible ramifications, he blurted, “Eighteen.”
Chatty Evonti nodded. “You will breed her in three solar cycles or the punishment will be severe.”
They would rather wait three years than find another victim? What was so special about Rebecca? It didn’t make sense.
That was the first time they’d used the pulse on him. Jim’s entire body ached just thinking about the torturous spasms. And if the pain weren’t horrible enough, there was the humiliating loss of control. One pulse made him piss his pants like a child. A second affected his bowels.
So Jim ruthlessly seduced Rebecca as soon as she turned eighteen. He convinced her she was the love of his life, hoping the Evonti would leave her alone. But when it came to “breeding”, he made damn sure their sexual activities never resulted in offspring. He’d die a thousand times before he damned an innocent child to the hell he was enduring. So he snuck away one afternoon and had a vasectomy. Every time he was abducted after that, he prayed they would kill him for the betrayal. But they never noticed, or didn’t know enough about human anatomy to understand what he’d done. Or they were so arrogant that they believed he was broken and wouldn’t dare to challenge them.
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