by Pamela Fryer
“You killed the Tetra,” he whispered, following with a kiss to the top of her head.
“Quite by accident, believe me.” She returned a kiss against his collarbone. “OMaGS did most of the work.”
“That is known as modesty,” OMaGS said.
Jager chuckled. “You are shy about your strengths.”
“I’m just glad you’re all right,” she told him. “I was so scared. I thought you were dead.”
“I was.” He held her at arms’ length so he could stare into her eyes. Brooke felt herself melting. “You saved me. OMaGS explained your use of Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation.”
“My sensors detect a humanoid with diminishing life signs,” OMaGS said. “And the female in Medical One is nearly one hundred percent revived.”
Brooke leaned back and found Jager’s icy gaze on the rogue agent left sprawled on the floor, still cupped in the levitation beam. “He’s still alive.”
“We must resuscitate him. I need to know his motives.”
She sat in the chair Jager vacated. It was not her place to voice an opinion, but inside, she knew if it were up to her, she’d leave him to his just deserts. A fierce rush of anger surged hotly as she watched Jager lift the weapon and guide the rogue agent into the empty medical chamber with the levitation beam. The bastard had tried to murder the man she loved.
Brooke rose and stood beside him. Together they watched the agent hovering in the medical chamber. She touched his hand, and Jager turned his palm to lace his fingers with hers.
“His body has been invaded by a lead, iron, and magnesium composite,” OMaGS stated. “There is damage to the left lung, bruising to the left ventricle, and a rupture to the lower intestine.”
“Will he live?” Jager asked.
“Undeterminable at this time,” OMaGS responded. The chime above Medical Chamber One dinged. “Female subject white blood cell count one hundred percent normal. Tetratoxins one hundred percent eradicated. Hepatoxins one hundred percent eradicated.”
A sigh of relief rushed from Brooke’s lungs. “Thank God.”
The medical chamber powered down and Sara’s flowing hair settled around her shoulders. Jager eased her out of the chamber and laid her on the extended chair.
Her face pinched into a mask of misery. Sara coughed and her eyelids fluttered. She looked around, focusing glassy eyes that grew wide with terror.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe now,” Brooke told her in a gentle voice.
Her gaze scanned the opalescent ceiling. It must look even stranger to her, not knowing where she was or what had happened.
“Where am I?” Her voice was scratchy and weak. “Is this a hospital?”
What was the best way to answer that? “It’s a recovery center.”
“Something was chasing me...it was awful—”
“A bad dream, that’s all,” Brooke lied. “The cult was giving you drugs, and you had a withdrawal reaction after the FBI raid.”
Her wary expression proved she was unconvinced. “It seemed so real.”
“I know. But it’s over now. Just try to forget about it and focus on something nice. Do you have a pet at home?”
She nodded. “A Chihuahua. His name is Pascal.” Sara smiled even as tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know if my dad still has him.”
Brooke laughed and put a bright smile on her face, ignoring the tears that pulled at her heart. “I’m sure he does. I love those dogs. They’re so adorable.”
“I want to go home.” Sara sniffled.
“Your father is very worried about you. You’ll be with him soon.”
Sara nodded and closed her eyes. She turned her head to the side and after a deep sigh, fell still.
“Did she faint?” Brooke asked.
“Her infection was in the latent stages,” OMaGS stated. “Her cell structure was severely traumatized. She will sleep for approximately twelve to sixteen hours.”
Jager touched Brooke’s shoulder. “It would ease my worries if you would allow me to assess your physical state in the medical chamber.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“If nothing else, it will clean the grime from you.” He gave her that charmingly imploring look that made her want to take off her clothes. “There is nothing to fear. Please, place your trust in me.”
Brooke sighed. “I trust you with my life, Jager.” She smoothed a lock of hair from Sara’s forehead and stood. Her heart sped up as she limped across the tilted floor to the chamber. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
She tried to convince herself she’d been in it once before and it had saved her life, and it had saved Jager and Sara’s lives as well. And she couldn’t help but like the OMaGS system. He sounded friendly, like a cheerful English professor.
Still, she couldn’t feel entirely comfortable with something she didn’t understand, and being so close to the rogue agent made her edgy.
The whirling blue lights started, tinting the room with a kaleidoscope of moving light. Standing less than a foot away, Jager smiled. “I will stay right here.”
She smiled back and whispered a thank-you.
“Subject Brooke Weaver. Heart rate is slightly elevated; one hundred two beats per minute. Stage one dehydration. Stage two exhaustion. Epidermal laceration of the left thigh one point nine-six millimeters deep. Level two bruising of the right talus. Partial tear to the right calcaneo-fibula ligament. Full tear to the right talo-fibula ligament. And she is very hungry.”
“Maybe it would be better if I didn’t have to hear everything that’s wrong with me.” Light pressure touched Brooke’s left thigh and with it came a tingling feeling, like tiny electrical shocks.
“Would you prefer to listen to music?” OMaGS asked her. “I have audio re-creations from eighteenth-century composers that Earth humans regard as the most soothing music. They are quite like the instrumental works for the Gorminnian kings.” Without waiting, something light and fluty rose in the chamber. Brooke couldn’t name it, but she’d heard it before.
She wished it would shut off, but somehow she suspected she would hurt OMaGS’ feelings if she said so.
“Curious. Your outer layering contains no nanobots.”
She laughed. “My clothes? No, they don’t.” Nervousness sent her into a fit of giggles.
“How do your clothes repair themselves?”
“They don’t. I have to repair them myself. Needle and thread.”
“Is that not inconvenient?”
“OMaGS, if I didn’t have you, I’d be using a needle and thread on my epidermal laceration.”
“How utterly barbaric.”
Even Jager laughed.
The sound chimed above the medical chamber like a microwave oven dinging off.
“That was quick.” She stepped out, relieved, and realized the pain in her ankle was gone. All that was left was a tingly sensation that actually felt nice. She looked down. The cut to her thigh was gone. There was no scar or even redness to indicate where the cut had been.
“Amazing.”
“Your injuries were not severe. However, I cannot say the same for subject one. Classification chip identifies Roall Vinill of Interplanetary Alliance sector two. He is a class four lieutenant serving in the Invasion Prevention Division, assigned to planet Earth two years ago.”
“Revive him,” Jager demanded in a gruff voice. Brooke stepped close and circled his arm lightly with her hand. She needed to feel him.
“Are you certain?” OMaGS sounded surprised. “His body is suffering level five trauma.”
“Revive him.”
The agent in the medical chamber winced as though someone stabbed him. His eyelids fluttered and his mouth worked. Pain infused his expression.
“He will have limited ability to speak as the tear to the left wall of the lung has not been fully repaired.”
“He will speak well enough,” Jager said, and Brooke believed the deadly certainty in his voice.
The rogue
agent’s body stiffened and his eyes opened. He glanced from Brooke to Jager. His eyes went wide, and then narrowed in hatred. “Sin-by-hies-turma,” he hissed in a thin voice. “You’re alive.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jager ignored the agent’s vicious glare. He wasn’t so much offended that Roall had tried to kill him as he was that he had almost brought about the destruction of Brooke’s entire planet. That made him burn with fury.
“Administer Borron technique two.” He began the method of questioning that he knew the other agent would recognize. Therefore, the man knew Jager would question him, mercilessly and ceaselessly, and if necessary, until he expired.
“You attempted to prevent me from destroying the Tetra. Why?”
“Should be...obvious...” The answer came on a thin breath. The man seemed without care, as though he believed there was nothing Jager could do about it.
“Explain,” Jager demanded.
Roall’s gaze slid to Brooke. He scanned her up and down with oily lust. From the corner of his eye, Jager saw her shiver. His rage tripled.
“Administer Borron technique forty-four.”
A flash of fear filled the agent’s eyes an instant before he squeezed them shut and grimaced in pain.
A sliver of shame needled Jager. He didn’t want Brooke to witness this. He wished he could spare her the ugliness required of a soldier.
“I have instructed OMaGS to apply cold, piercing pressure to the roots of his teeth,” he explained as gently as he could. “The torture will not cause permanent harm or hinder his healing in any way. It is simply very painful.”
She shrugged. “Hey, torture away. I’m not squeamish.”
He could have kissed her. It took the strength of a Fugara beast to resist hauling her into his arms. With every turn, she continued to impress him.
“Let me die.” The agent squeezed his words through a pursed mouth. “They’ll kill me anyway.”
“Cease Borron forty-four,” Jager instructed OMaGS. “Who will kill you?”
“Rendarions.” Roall blinked his eyes several times and bit down on his lips to staunch the pain. “Want this planet.”
“Why do the Rendarions want this planet?” Jager kept his emotions concealed while inside, he seethed. Since discovering Brooke, he’d learned a new appreciation for the beauty to be found here.
“OMaGS—”
“Populate. Enslave surviving humans.”
Brooke glanced at Jager. Horror shined in her wide eyes, and regret filled his heart. He would stop this, if it was the last thing he did.
“You withhold information,” Jager argued. “The Rendarions have no need of Earth.”
Roall closed his eyes, refusing to answer.
“OMaGS, administer Borron forty-six.” This time, he didn’t explain the torture. Brooke might be courageous, but there was only so much violence she could endure.
Roall’s eyes rolled back in his head and he gurgled as his lungs were prevented from drawing air.
“OMaGS, cease. Roall Vinill, you have one reon to answer me—”
“Minerals,” Roall spit out. “Copper. Diamonds. Iron. Natural resources.”
“For what purpose?”
“Replace their alloys that fail...”
“For weapons?”
Roall grimaced. “Weapons…biofuel.”
This was not difficult to believe. The Rendarions were a greedy, violent race that had instigated two major rebellions in Alliance history. They were reckless enough to take hopeless yet drastic measures, including killing an entire planet, to earn their superiority and defeat the Alliance.
But Roall Vinill’s position was almost impossible to understand. There were few reaches in the universe where one could hide from the grasp of the Alliance.
“How could you involve yourself in this treason? You swore your allegiance to the Alliance.”
Roall laughed, and then coughed and spit up blood. “The Alliance–I’m a slave. Rendarians promised...riches. I will live like a king.”
“At the cost of your honor,” Jager spat. “You have embarked on a fool’s quest. The Interplanetary Alliance will never allow this betrayal to succeed.”
“Can’t stop...infestation that size...no one would know...until too late. You were...accident.”
“Hmmm,” OMaGS murmured in a thoughtful tone. “The explanation is plausible. When presented with the ideal environmental conditions, the Tetra reproduces at a steady rate that would soon overwhelm all warm-blooded life-forms on this planet. In order to eliminate an infestation of that size, poisons must be used, as the Tetra would feed on their own species in order to prevent catastrophic starvation.”
“You’re an idiot,” Brooke shouted. “Earth’s ecosystems are delicately balanced. Poisons or not, this planet would die. You would be king of a dead planet. These Rendarians promised you an impossible prize.”
Roall’s eyes drifted shut. Perhaps he knew this already.
“They’ll succeed anyway,” he whispered.
“No. They won’t.” Brooke’s voice quavered. Jager regretted subjecting Brooke to these horrors. He never should have questioned Roall in front of her.
“Your treason will be documented and reported,” he stated. “You will be turned over to the Military Disciplinary League.”
Roall laughed again. This time it sounded hopeless and pitiful. “Won’t live that long.” He squeezed his eyes shut as pain gripped him. “Rendarians will see to that.”
“Immobilize.”
Roall’s expression went slack and his body fell still as the medical chamber put him into slumber. The chamber turned milky white, freezing the traitor in a state of detainment.
Brooke turned to him. The nervous movement of her throat as she swallowed betrayed the courageous front.
“That’s a little scary.”
“He will not succeed.”
“I know.” She placed her hand on his arm.
Small and delicate, she suddenly seemed extremely fragile. Her touch conveyed a sense of trust in him that seized his heart. She managed a weak smile, while he knew inside she experienced the most shattering fear imaginable.
“How’s this for ironic—I’m actually sad that you’ll go off to protect us.”
He touched her waist. Her hand slid up his arm. A natural force brought them close.
“I, too, regret that elements such as these exist. I wish there was nothing to call me away from your side, but protecting you will always be my first priority.”
She eased against him and rested her head on his chest. “I know.” Her warmth fed into him, and Jager felt each shuddering breath she drew.
“I will not fail you.”
She looked up at him and smiled. This time it was real and deep. “Of course you won’t.” She touched his face. He took her hand and held it against his cheek.
There was nothing he wouldn’t give to have this forever. Except Earth.
“The Interplanetary Alliance is vast and powerful, with the resources of thousands of races to aid against a small band of rebels. Earth is carefully monitored, and a high priority for the Alliance. It is protected both by the million-year-old charter decreeing no planet shall be taken from its natural inhabitants, and by its status as a protected realm.”
She eased away from him slowly, sliding her hand down his chest. He was almost ashamed of the hot desire she stirred inside him. She needed his protection and his concern, not his lust.
“We’ve been around for millions of years. I’m confident we’ll still be here tomorrow.” She forced a happy expression, yet Jager could see the moisture shining in her eyes. “I feel privileged to know our savior.”
Their hands intertwined. Jager brought hers to his lips and placed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I must send a transmission.”
She nodded. “I’ll sit with Sara.” She glanced uneasily at the medical chamber. Jager was thankful for its concealing properties when in the immobilization state. All she could see was a gray column.<
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“He is unconscious. He cannot hear us or see us, nor can he move. He will not escape the chamber.”
“Good. I never want to see his sleazy face again.”
They eased apart, finally releasing their hands, until only their fingertips touched.
Jager went to the captain’s console and typed out his message in a secret, undocumented encryption that only he and his senior commander knew by heart. While OMaGS bundled the message and opened the transmission channel, Jager swiveled the chair. He watched Brooke as she sat at the edge of the reclining chair beside Sara. The girl tossed her head in a fitful slumber, brows pinched as though she endured dreadful nightmares.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” Brooke soothed in a whispery voice.
Jager swallowed a sudden and powerful ache of sorrow. She was a caring, tender person who would make a wonderful mother. He wished he could stay on this beautiful planet and be her mate, and share in the joy of parenthood with her.
It was a tragic and undeserved misfortune that she had been so cruelly misused by that Chunga’s arse, Richard Riley. She deserved a man who loved her, who would be true, who would devote his life to protecting her and pleasing her. If given the chance Richard Riley had callously tossed aside, Jager would prove his worth a thousand times every day.
He watched with longing as Brooke gently brushed the girl’s hair back from her forehead. Before long, Sara Brown lay still, slumbering peacefully.
Today Richard Riley had tried to earn back Brooke’s trust. Perhaps Brooke would find a future with him after all.
A sudden burn of jealousy lodged in his chest. He should want Brooke to find happiness. But the selfish part of him that had been denied such happiness ached, as if a sharp blade had been plunged into his gut directly at the peak of his ribs.
He glanced at the medical chamber. Roall Vinill had spoken the truth when he’d said he was a slave to the Alliance. He had a duty to perform, and there was no time or place for romantic relations within.
What was it about Earth that caused a man to long for the beauty and joy it could offer? None of the hundreds of other planets he’d visited had ever had such an effect on him.
