His chest heaved with each breath and she thought she heard him say, “’S’okay,” but wasn’t quite sure.
Before she lost her nerve, she reached into the pod and untangled the life support links. This wouldn’t be easy with him cuffed and clothed. The peripheral parenteral nutrition line would be easy enough to attach to his bare arm, so she did that first. She wrapped a band around his biceps, found his vein and slipped the needle in. “Is that okay?”
He nodded.
“No pinching? The vein doesn’t ache?”
He shook his head.
Why wouldn’t he talk? “I’ve got to put the electrode pads on you, or your muscles will atrophy.”
He nodded.
“Um, I’m gonna need to—”
His hand twisted around and he unbuttoned and unzipped his cammies. Her face flamed, but she knelt and pulled down his pants. She’d just escaped one man, and here she was, kneeling in front of another with his pants around his ankles. She forced herself to pay attention to what needed to be done, placing electro-pads on his calves. Huge bruises covered his muscular legs. “Who did this?”
One tawny brow lifted. The chains linking his cuffs and shackles jangled as he reached his hand toward her. The tip of his finger traced down her throat in a gentle caress that left her shivering. A foreign flutter settled into the pit of her belly—nothing unpleasant, just strange. She wet her lips as she stared into his eyes.
He stroked her throat again reminding her of her question.
She jerked her hand up to cover the dark stains circling her neck. With everything else, she’d forgotten the bruises Randolph had given her. In the grand scheme of last night, they seemed inconsequential. Randolph had done this to him, no doubt in an effort to make Chief Payne talk. And when he wouldn’t, Randolph had come to her. Well, soon they’d both be far out of Randolph’s reach.
She shook her head and got back to work. Each of the electrodes needed to be placed over major muscles. She attached them to his thighs and calves and then blushed all over when she needed to reach up the tight boxers he wore to attach them to the hard globes of his glutes.
When she stood, she pulled his pants up, careful not to snag any of the wires. But there was no way to re-button them. Not with the massive erection straining against his underwear. All the breath seemed to leave her lungs. “I, uh, think you’ll be more comfortable if I leave these loose.”
He didn’t look at her, but gave her a curt nod.
The electrodes that went on his arms were easy enough, but then she needed to lift his shirt to place those that went on his chest and abs. She stared at his dog tags, trying to ignore the wide expanse of smooth skin stretched over thick muscle. He hissed in a breath when she grazed a large bruise on his ribs. “I’m sorry. Almost done.” How could he even stand? He’d been badly beaten. Interesting the bruises were confined to areas his clothing covered—that reeked of true Parnell style.
She went back to work, sliding her hands under his shirt and reaching up to attach the remaining electrodes to his back. It almost felt like a hug, bringing her flush against the hard muscles of his chest. He had a pleasant scent; musky and male. His skin was warm and smooth. Her nipples tightened and she blushed.
Damn it, she didn’t like men. Especially not violent men. As soon as she finished, she stepped away. “Goodnight, Chief Payne.”
His gaze, laced with surprise, shot back to hers.
“Yes, I know who you are.” She hesitated, almost thanking him for trying. True, he didn’t succeed. He had made things worse, but he was the only person who’d ever tried to make things right. In the end, she placed her hand over his heart and smiled. “I’ll see you in six months.”
He gave her a clipped nod in response.
She slipped the clear plastic breathing mask over his face, activated life-support, pushed the door closed, and sealed him inside.
The ten-minute alarm went off and she dashed back to her own chamber, pulling off clothes as she went. When she’d stripped down to panties and a tank, she folded her belongings and tucked them under the pod.
The whole ship rumbled as the engines ignited and as she settled into her pod, she realized Chief Payne stood upright in his. That couldn’t be good. When he lost consciousness he’d slump down and undo the life-links she’d attached.
She leapt up, returned to his chamber and studied the markings on the side until she found a button showing a picture of the chamber with an arrow pointing down. Hitting it, she stepped back as the entire chamber began to lower, catching his expression of sleepy-eyed appreciation. Through the fogged breathing mask, his lips parted in a silent thank you.
She returned to her own chamber, stepping on something sharp. “Ouch.” Grabbing hold of her sore foot, she hopped over to lean on her pod. With a baleful glance around, she found keys lying on the floor. No doubt those two Blue Helmets would be looking for these later. She picked them up, and took them with her into her chamber.
Getting the electrode patches on Chief Payne had been much easier than doing her own. She twisted and turned, working herself into bizarre positions to get all her electrodes in place. She wasn’t sure she had the ones on her back right, but they would have to do. She inserted the peripheral parenteral nutrition line needle into her arm and laid back as the five-minute alarm went off. Prudence hit the self-close button and put on her breathing mask as her chamber sealed shut. Her eyelids grew heavy as the chamber cooled, and she tried to relax.
In six months, when she woke, she’d have a brand new life. A brand new her.
She’d learn to be strong and smart and never be beholden to anyone again.
As she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts turned to her roommate.
For a convicted murderer, Chief Payne seemed nice.
Handsome, too.
Chapter 4
New York, Five Months Later
“We’re being attacked.”
Randolph Parnell set his knife and fork down on his plate, sat back in his chair and stared at the young Blue Helmet who’d made that asinine pronouncement. He owned Earth’s military. He’d deported all those people who didn’t appreciate Alfred’s vision, relocating them to Asteria.
With a wry smile, he glanced at his partner and head of security, Donald Bronsen. “He must be drunk.”
Bronson smirked before taking a bite of steak.
Randolph turned his full attention to the Blue Helmet lieutenant providing his report and cocked his brow.
The Blue Helmet's Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “No, sir. Rebels are attacking. It’s happening all over.”
Impossible.
Bronsen cleared his throat, his handsome face lit with a wry amusement. “All over the compound?”
“No, sir, not yet.” He shifted his weight. “All over the world.”
With a shake of his head, Bronsen pulled out his Saph-link, a thin, flexible piece of Sapphire, and unfolded the device for use. Good. Bronsen would find out what was what. He had been Alfred’s head of security for years and Randolph had learned a lot from him.
Randolph turned to the Blue Helmet. “And what have these rebels done?”
“Seems to be an organized attack.” The young lieutenant rushed to impart his news, his worried gaze darting between Randolph and Bronsen. “There was no warning. Stations have already fallen in Tel Aviv, Hertfordshire, St. Paul, Phoenix, Tokyo, Ho—”
Bronsen cleared his throat, drawing Randolph’s attention, his expression flat, serious. He nodded in confirmation.
Randolph’s patronizing cynicism dissolved and a sickening knot tightened in his gut. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when he’d finally had a taste of a peaceful, ordered life. “But who? Who the hell has organized the attack?”
“Military orphans.” Bronsen let his Saph-link fall to the tabletop; the device folded in on itself until once again it was small enough to fit into a pocket.
Randolph had a horrific vision of parentless children bludgeoning his
soldiers to death, but no, that’s not what the lieutenant meant. He meant all the soldiers who were left without a military. When they’d disbanded the various branches and bombed the remaining bases, he’d assumed some soldiers would escape, but he’d never envisioned there’d be enough to organize and fight back. Not like this.
His head jerked twice. He could feel himself unraveling, losing his careful mastery over his body. Reaching out one unsteady hand, he aligned the unused utensils still lying on either side of his plate.
“We knew this was a possibility.” Bronsen’s calm gaze captured his. “We’ll deal with it.”
Randolph inhaled a slow breath. They would deal with the rebels. Everything would be fine. He’d put everything into order once, so everything should fall back into place quickly.
“We’ve had some contact with the rebels, sir,” the Blue Helmet said. “They claim they’re answering Chief Payne’s call.”
White-hot fury blazed through him, begging for release. Almost everything. Like one, misplaced domino, Chief Payne caused chaos amid functioning order. He slammed his fist down on the table “That son of a bitch made no call. He couldn’t even speak at trial. I made sure of it.” He’d had total control over the trial. There hadn’t been any surprises, despite the fact he hadn’t been able to secure Prudence’s gift.
“Maybe not, sir.” The Blue Helmet’s doe-brown eyes shifted away. “But the people heard his song the night he assassinated Alfred. The rebels sang his hymn while they attacked.” The young Blue Helmet wet his lips. “The attacks are being broadcast.”
“Holo-projector, on.” Randolph stared at the hologram everyone in the world was watching.
Smoke billowed up from his stronghold in Honolulu. The bodies of his soldiers—distinguished by their bright blue helmets—lay amid the wreckage. And the rebels, wearing a conglomeration of uniforms from disbanded militaries, held up their weapons, cheering for the holo-cameras, singing that fucking song.
His eyes blinked hard, repeatedly. He tried to stop the tics, but couldn’t. He couldn’t focus. He’d never been able to amid chaos. “We can’t go back. I can’t go back.”
Under the table, Bronsen’s hand settled on his knee. “Lieutenant, thank you for your report. You’re dismissed.”
Randolph had always been against Alfred’s idea of Utopia. In the early years, he’d wanted nothing to do with such foolishness. He’d been sure Alfred would fail.
But his brother had been brilliant. Once Alfred gained traction with the members of states, of countries like Kenya, Nepal, Chile, and Greece, things started to change. Those countries shipped away prisoners and their national debts began to lower. Other countries took notice and one by one they ceded to Alfred. The U.N. took over governing, putting decades’-old wars to rest. The world had grown too big for self-governing nations. The governments had all become corrupt. Even in countries like the U.S., citizens had become so polarized, no agreements could be made. The political climate grew worse year after year until even the great countries had no recourse but to accept Alfred’s leadership under the U.N. flag if they wanted to survive.
Some thought breaking the nations into smaller governments was the answer. But no, Alfred had the right of it—one global government was the answer. One mission. One set of laws. Life was better now.
And Randolph would be damned if anyone threatened that. He thrived in the new world Alfred created. And he knew, without a doubt, Alfred had built this utopia for him.
“We’re too close to achieving what we set out to do.” Randolph shook his head, trying to disguise the tics jerking his head to the side. “We can’t go back. It would be far worse than before. Can you imagine?” There would be chaos and infighting. There would be no peace. No order. “Nothing got done before Alfred took control. It was just a matter of time before we annihilated ourselves.” Most days, impending Armageddon had been all he could think about. But now, things were better. Now he could breathe.
“No one wants that.” Bronsen stood and pulled him into his arms. “These rebels, they don’t know what they want. We’ll get rid of them.”
“We can’t go back. Nothing made sense before the U.N. took control. Alfred fixed things, lined everything up like dominoes.” Perfectly ordered. No surprises.
When he’d taken over as the U.N.’s Prime Minister, he’d felt invincible. For the first time in his life, people looked to him for leadership, instead of Alfred. People listened to him.
Then Prudence left.
He hadn’t cared at first, lying with her was a trial he’d had no stomach for. The way she’d stare at him unnerved him. He never felt in control when she was around. He’d decided since society had accepted him as their new leader and no one had challenged him, he didn’t need to subject himself to her. But lately, fewer citizens came to his rallies. He’d heard what almost sounded like criticism from local media. Lately, he’d wondered if he needed Prudence and her gifts, after all. “Has anyone found my fiancée?”
“Are you sure you want to go that route?” Bronsen’s green eyes bored into his. “I know how difficult you found the whole ordeal.”
“People aren’t listening.” His neck popped as his head jerked to the side.
“You could hand things over to me for a while. I’ll make them listen to you.”
Randolph shook his head. “It’s too far gone for that. No matter how much I hate the idea of fucking her, we have to find her.” He would not go down in history as the Parnell brother who had failed. He’d held that title long enough.
“I know where she is.” Bronsen’s large hand stroked his back, comforting. “The day she left, she went to the Sisters of Charity. The Sisters wouldn’t talk at first, but I . . . persuaded them to tell us where she went.”
A shiver raced over Randolph. Bronsen was a master of torture and he’d taught Randolph everything he knew. He was only sorry he’d missed the chance to watch him work. “And?”
“She boarded Genesis V to Asteria. She’ll arrive in about a month.”
“What?” That couldn’t be right. Why would anyone want go to that godforsaken planet? The trip took six months. Even Apollo I, its successor, was excruciatingly slow, taking a full four weeks to get to Asteria. His concerned gaze tangled with Bronsen’s. “I’ll n-n-never g-get her back in t-time.”
Bronsen frowned. “You will calm down.”
How? How could he possibly? Everything was falling apart. He pushed away from Bronsen.
He’d only taken a couple strides before Bronsen slammed Randolph against the wall, wrenching his arm against the small of his back. “Better?”
The world came into sharp focus. The firm pressure of his lover’s weight, the pain from where his shoulder had collided with the wall—all if it grounded him. Randolph nodded.
“I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. Are you taking your meds?”
Randolph tried to push away. He’d quit taking the Haldol. It made him fuzzy and with everything so calm, so ordered . . . . “I didn’t need it.”
“You do. You don’t want the others seeing you like this, do you?” Bronsen rubbed his stubbly cheek against Randolph’s hair. “You take your meds and I’ll have you in Asteria in two weeks.”
“How?”
“You know what they say—technology doubles its advances every six months.” Bronsen bit his ear, sending a sharp pain shooting through his head. “The Orion I hasn’t been publicly announced yet, but she’s fit for a maiden voyage. We’ll take a crew and a few soldiers.”
Randolph grunted, reveling in his lover’s solid embrace. “That’s still too long. The war might be lost by then.” He had no desire to be parted from his lover, but perhaps he should send Bronsen to retrieve Prudence and stay behind to ensure the Blue Helmets did their job.
“No one needs to know you’re gone.” Bronsen twisted his arm higher, almost to the breaking point, leaving Randolph panting. “The rebels had surprise on their side today. That’s no longer the case. The Blue Helmets will
rally; you’ll call on the citizens of Earth to do their part. While we’re away, you can stay abreast of what’s happening while remaining safe from the war. We’ll be back long before the rebels reach this part of the country, if they ever do. If you need Prudence at all, you’ll need her after this little uprising has finished.”
Bronsen’s reasoning was sound. His military leaders were on guard now. They would rally. They had to. And the speeches he made in the aftermath would be the most important. He’d need to reclaim the faith of all Earthers amid blood and destruction—the antithesis of Alfred’s dream. He needed Prudence if he wanted to be successful. “Do it. Get everything ready. When can we leave?”
Bronsen swung him around, pressing Randolph tight between the wall and his body. His mouth slanted over Randolph’s, demanding, urgent. “Tonight. We’ll arrive a couple weeks before Genesis V. We can stand at the arrivals gate and snatch Prudence up as she disembarks. We’ll be back before anyone misses you.”
Randolph nodded. Bronsen always knew what to do. Every time he began falling into the gaping abyss of madness, Bronsen always brought him back.
Chapter 5
Griffin jerked awake with a gasp.
Flames engulfed the doll, the dainty plastic face melting into a gruesome death mask.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the horrendous images.
Jesus, his jaw ached. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he’d hoped the pain would be gone by the time he woke, despite the spiked wires sealing his jaw closed. He opened his swollen eyes and tried to rub away the sleep, but the chain between his leg irons and cuffs prevented the movement.
Outside his chamber, puffs of smoke curled across the ceiling and for a heartbeat, he thought he was still captured within his dream. Was the ship on fire? Impossible. Life support, and therefore oxygen, should be limited to the hibernation chambers during flight to prevent such catastrophes.
The Last Marine Page 3
