Liberation

by Sabine Priestley

  Balastar saw the wisdom of the words. “I think you should listen to him.”

  Kit flashed him an angry look along with a blast of her emotions.

  “Ouch.” He didn’t relish being on the receiving end of that force. “Look, we’ll do whatever you want, but he’s got a point. They need someone to blame, and right now it’s you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dirk said.

  “He’s the messenger.” Balastar tried to send calming vibes, but it was nearly impossible given her current state.

  Her shoulders dropped a notch. “It’s not your fault.”

  “You should visit your grandmother.” Dirk walked around and opened the top drawer of the desk. “I’ve received special dispensation for you. I can send you to her room and bring you back as soon as you’re ready. We could use your help in finding the captives. The other captains are already looking and will be in touch.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “You were interstellar when it happened. I thought it important to tell you in person.”

  “Send me the data on Geodice,” Kit said.

  “Are you sure? It’s not pretty.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she growled.

  “I figured as much. Here.”

  Balastar looked over her shoulder as she flipped through image after image of near total devastation to a block and a half of homes. It looked like an orbital laser. A fifty foot wide path of destruction. “How many dead?”

  “Only five. It could have been much worse.”

  Kit stopped at the remains of a house and wiped a tear from her cheek. “That was my home.”

  He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s see your grandmother and get out of here.”

  She nodded and looked to Dirk. He gave them a sad smile and activated the portal.

  After the familiar tug passed, they stood in a small hospital room. The curtains were open, and the muted light from the cold day outside lit the room.

  Kit’s grandmother was sitting up and flipping through something on her com.

  Balastar was afraid the woman might faint when she saw Kit. “Oh Mother Goddess, you’re here.” She clapped her hands to her cheeks, her eyes shining. “Kitayaná Athorika, my darling, come.”

  Kit went and sat on the side of the bed and wrapped the small frail looking woman in her arms. The two stayed that way for a long moment before Kit broke the hug and held the woman’s hands.

  “Nana, why didn’t you message me? I can’t believe this is happening.”

  The woman reached out and stroked the side of Kit’s head, finally trailing her fingers down the shimmering black streak. “I only woke yesterday, and what could you do? I wanted to keep you away from here. Keep you safe.” She paused a moment before continuing. “Dirk promised you’d leave as soon as you’re done here.”

  Kit nodded.

  “What you do is important to all of our people.”

  Kit’s lip trembled. “They started with my parent’s house.”

  “I know, Kita.”

  Balastar sensed her misplaced guilt. He cleared his throat and walked over to stand next to his mate.

  Kit’s grandmother made no attempt to hide her curiosity as her gaze took him in from head to toe. “Now, before we discuss things, tell me who this young man is.”

  Kit’s hair turned a stunning color of amber as her love poured into him. Balastar caressed Kit’s shoulder.

  “Nana, this Balastar Alder. He’s my psi-mate.”

  “Oh, Kita. I’m so happy for you.” Her body appeared frail, but her voice was strong, and intelligence shone from her eyes.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Balastar said. “I wish it were under happier circumstances.”

  The woman took his hand in both of hers and squeezed. “He is a fine specimen, isn’t he?”

  “Nana!”

  “Shush, dear. Allow an old woman her foibles.” A serious expression returned to her face, and she let his hand go. Picking up her com, she said, “I’ve been looking, trying to find a clue. I can find no record of those beasts ever taking a single person. They tell me eighteen are missing and five dead. Monsters.”

  “That’s what Dirk told us.”

  Nana dropped the com into her lap. “It makes no sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Kit said. “I’m going to find them.”

  “That’s my Kita.”

  Kit squeezed Nana’s knee under the covers. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Yes. My neighbor is getting everything salvageable from my home. The doctors tell me I’ll be fine. Go. Find them.”

  Kit gave her a kiss on the cheek. Before leaving, she told her about the GTO. A little hope during a dark time.

  Back on Solaris 9, she held it together long enough to thank Dirk. Closing the door to the warehouse, she turned to Balastar. He wrapped her in his arms and held her tight as the tears fell, glad he could finally do something to ease her pain. Whatever was coming, whatever they found, they were going to face it together.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On the way back to the hotel, Kit pondered their next steps. Her emotions reeled. What the frack were the Torogs doing? She corrected herself—it was the Portal Masters. The Torogs were nothing more than puppets. Their current plan was to finish a shipment Balastar had, then return to Earth. The only possible lead into the minds of the Portal Masters was with the rogue PMs back on that little blue planet. A planet that would now be her home, or at least one of them. She also wanted to talk to Dani. They had some serious shit in common now. She let out a long breath. Her childhood home was leveled, her parents were gone, and Vertan could be freed. It was an insane mix of emotion.

  Balastar reached out with his psi. “How are you doing?”

  “I don’t know. In shock, I guess.” She turned to him. “How long is this next run going to take?” She might go straight to Earth and wait for him there. Then again, the thought of being without him stung.

  “About that,” Balastar said, one eyebrow raised. “I’ve rearranged things.”

  “How so?”

  “I subcontracted the job. The shipment’s already left.”

  That was good. It meant their time apart in separate ships would be limited to the trip to Earth.

  Kit could feel his excitement about something. “Excellent,” she said, wondering what had him so keyed up. “Do we need to get provisions?”

  “Already done.”

  She thought about the trip to Earth. That was a lot of time to kill. There was a chance she could find something online to help them. A slim chance, maybe, but better than nothing. “How’s your onboard PortalNet?” There was no need to ask if his ship had greater capacity than hers. As long as they stayed within range, she could access his database.

  “I sent a signal to start updating as soon as we ported through.”

  “Tags?”

  “Portal Masters, Sandaria, Torogs, conspiracy, secrets, Vertan. I doubt we’ll get any hits on the last one. Can you think of any more to add?”

  “Not really. Sounds like you have it covered.”

  He gave her a wink. “You have no idea just how covered.”

  When they arrived at the spaceport, she found he’d arranged to have her Tiger moved next to his transport. Her baby was dwarfed by his. It was a nice touch, but not necessary.

  “Come here,” he said, leading her toward his open lift. “I want to show you something.”

  They took the lift to the cargo hold. When the door slid open she saw the space had been transformed. The separate cargo holds were gone, and one massive space remained.

  “The holds are configurable,” Balastar said, grinning. “Tiger will fit nicely in here.” He took her in his arms. “You didn’t think I’d let us fly solo given everything you’re going through, did you?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

  He kissed her deeply. This man melted her. She pulled away before it got out of hand.


  “Let’s get Tiger loaded and tied down,” Kit said, running a hand through his mussed-up hair, “so we can get out of here.”

  ***

  Once they’d cleared orbit, Balastar turned control over to the ship’s AI. They wouldn’t be needed again until they reached the first portal jump the following day. Kit stayed with him in the bridge even though there was nothing for her to do. It was comforting just being near him.

  “How are you holding up?” He took her hand and caressed her palm.

  It was freakishly relaxing. “I’m okay. It’s frustrating not knowing what’s going on and not being able to do anything about it.”

  “I don’t know how we’re going to pull it off, but I promise we won’t stop till we find them. All of them.”

  She wanted to believe it.

  “We need a distraction,” Balastar said, pulling her around so they sat knee to knee.

  “What’d you have in mind?”

  “First, I’d like to make love to you. Long and hard or sweet and slow. Whatever you need.”

  “Um, both? Both sounds good.”

  “Whatever you need. After that, how about we go all out for dinner?”

  “I don’t know. I’m worried sick about my parents.”

  He brought her hand to his lips. Such a tender gesture. “I know you’re worried, but there is nothing we can do right now. I think a distraction would help.” He flipped her hand over and kissed her palm, sending a thrill through her body. “We can only stay in bed for so long. Do you have any dresses?”

  “A few.” She breathed out a sigh. In her line of work, there was little call for dressing up.

  “Dig one out. For tonight, we dine in style.”

  Kit put on a smile she didn’t totally own. She was learning that she could hold in her emotions to some extent. Even psi-mates needed privacy. If he pushed, he’d be able feel her emotions, but that was rude, and her mate was a gentleman through and through. Besides, he looked so happy, she could hardly say no.

  ***

  Later that evening, she leaned against the counter while Balastar prepped their meal. The man actually cooked with fresh vegetables and everything. He’d been true to his word and given her exactly what she needed. Now she was ravenous.

  He slapped her hand as she tried to steal another piece of bacon.

  “What? I’m hungry.”

  “I’m making you a four course meal. Eat some carrots.”

  “You can’t follow bacon with carrots.” Turned out, you could, and she did. Her mouth watered at the heavenly smells.

  He had roast kornig from Xanath, an assortment of roasted vegetables from three different worlds, and a variety of other side dishes and sauces. He knew his way around a kitchen, another thing she’d never mastered.

  “You’re staring,” he said, not looking at her.

  “You’re my mate. I’m allowed.”

  He put down his spoon and stood in front of her, trapping her against the counter. “Yes, you are.”

  Kissing him was a drug. He pressed his rock-hard cock against her pelvis and sent their psi into overdrive. Just as things were getting good, he stopped. He twirled her red streak in his fingers and looked into her soul. “I never knew I could love someone so much.”

  That was an understatement. “Me either.”

  “Now, why don’t you go find that dress? I’ve got another ten or fifteen minutes, then everything can cook and simmer till dinner. I’ll change then. Meet you back here.” He kissed her on the cheek, turned her around, and slapped her on the ass, sending her on her way. She headed to the hangar bay feeling less than enthusiastic. She kept her psi closed, not wanting Balastar to sense her turmoil. She entered her ship and closed the hatch behind her. She leaned against the cool surface and let out a long, slow breath. She was so happy about being with Balastar and so distressed about not being the lady he professed her to be. She was worried sick about her parents, and there was hope for Vertan for the first time in her life. The whole thing left her emotionally unhinged.

  She shoved off the wall. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Most of her clothes were stored in bins, but she had a small narrow closet between the bulkhead and the bathroom. She opened the door and stood staring at the three dresses she owned.

  On an intellectual level, she knew Balastar was her mate and he loved her, but on an emotional plane she knew none of her dresses would be anywhere near what he was used to. She had no doubt the women he’d dated came from the same class as he and would laugh at her pathetic rack-bought dresses.

  Her grandfather had made billions of credits, but virtually every cent went back into the space program. The home she grew up in was a modest structure. There were no balls, no pomp and circumstance, simply hard work.

  What was wrong with her? Since when did she give a frack?

  She pulled her shirt over her head and kicked off her boots. Since I found my psi-mate and want to impress him.

  She chose a form fitting, sleeveless black dress with a low back. It was hard to go wrong with black, right? Black four inch heels, and she’d probably match his height. She pulled a wooden box from the storage under the bed and opened the lid. It had been at least a year since she’d worn any jewelry. Too many dodgy ports, and it never paid to look like you had money. She selected a delicate red teardrop pendant and matching earrings her parents had given her. She looked at her image in the mirror behind the door. The streak in her hair was jet black, so the jewelry really popped. She stepped into the bathroom and put on some mascara and eye shadow. She looked good, but felt completely out of her element.

  She took the steps down from Tiger carefully. There was a difference between heels on boots and pumps like these. Wobbly was the word that came to mind. The click of her shoes echoed in the hangar, and she felt vulnerable as she stepped into the lift. Crossing the hall to the galley, she stopped short. The fireplace was back, and the visual was stunning. Mahogany wood mantel framed leaping flames against a wall of space.

  Leaning against the mantle stood Balastar with a drink in hand. He stared into the flames, lost in thought. He wore a black tuxedo. Obviously custom-made, it hugged his muscled body like a second skin. She couldn’t see his shoes behind the couch, but no doubt they were perfect and expensive.

  Deep breath, she stepped into the room. She felt his psi a moment before he looked up. He set his drink down and came around to greet her.

  Yep, his leather shoes screamed money. At least hers were real leather. This was insane. She was completely mental and had to fight the urge to turn and run.

  He stopped a few steps from her and looked her up and down.

  Don’t run, don’t run, don’t run.

  “You look stunning.” Balastar said.

  “Thank you.” Trying to calm her nerves, she motioned to the mantle where his drink sat. It was clearly more than an illusion. “Is that the same tech they use in Ria’s sim room?”

  “Nanites.” Balastar tilted his head. “What’s the matter, beautiful?”

  Kit fought back tears. What was wrong with her?

  “Whoa, Kit.” He stepped forward and rubbed her upper arms.

  The heat and the caress of his psi felt so good.

  When a tear slid down her cheek, he wiped it away. “Talk to me.”

  “Pour me a drink first. Whatever you’re having.” The fact that wasn’t very ladylike struck her hard.

  Balastar kissed her forehead and went to do as she asked, leaving her with a questioning glance. He must be dying to press his psi against hers, to find the answers. She loved him even more for respecting her privacy.

  The food smelled good, the fireplace and view of space, it was all so perfect. Why was she such a mess?

  She walked over to the fireplace and let the heat warm her bare legs. Wearing a dress on a starship was a stupid idea. She took a sip of Balastar’s drink and let the burn warm her from the inside.

  He returned with her glass and caressed her psi. Her stat
e of mind confused him. He could join the club on that one.

  “Talk to me. Please.”

  Where to start? She took another pull of courage and waited for the burn to subside. “How much did you pay for that suit?”

  He glanced down, then back up. “A lot?”

  “Yeah. My dress and shoes probably set me back fifty credits. I’m feeling…out of my element.”

  “We can take the clothes off right now.”

  She smiled.

  “I mean it. I’m perfectly happy in jeans or my captain’s pants, which I’ve noticed you rather like to look at.”

  “Nobody could fill those things better than you do. It’s not that, though.”

  He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I told you I don’t care about that, remember?”

  “You fit in my world just fine, Balastar. I’m afraid I won’t fit into yours.”

  He took her drink and set it down next to his. “Listen to me, Kit. I don’t give a damn what you wear, how you talk, or what snobby social rituals you may or may not know. I love you.”

  She caressed his cheek. How did she end up with someone so sweet? “I know that.” She looked at the immaculately set table. There were four forks and four sets of glasses for each of them. Why would anyone need more than one fork per meal? She had work to do. “I know you don’t care. But other people will.”

  “No one on Earth will care. I can guarantee you that.”

  “Fine, but are we planning on stopping our work just because we’re bonded?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Exactly. Tell me, how many events have you been to in the past, oh I don’t know, let’s say six months, where you had to dress like that?” Bingo. She felt his embarrassed frustration.

  “A few,” he said, grudgingly.

  She raised one eyebrow at him and waited.

  “Okay fine. Quite a few. It brings in business. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m rich. We’re rich. We can buy all the designer clothes you could possibly want. You can buy a new outfit for every function and never wear the same thing twice.”