by Suzi Goode
She pressed her lips together. “Not at first. It wasn't until later when a woman accosted me."
Violette. Was she somehow connected with Pardua and not with Baylon and Odessa, as Harley had originally thought? He realized he no longer had a surefire means of getting her to safety. He had been allowed access to every part of Romaydia, and could even travel off-station if he wanted to, but he doubted that was the case now.
"Did she speak to you?"
"She told me I'd never get away now that I was stranded. She suggested I go with her.” Odessa placed a hand on his arm. “I don't think she meant harm, but I can't tell. Romaydia is like the devil's lair. I don't know who not to trust or who to trust anymore."
Yet, Violette had told him where to find Odessa. Why would she do that if she wanted harm to come to Odessa?
"Do you swear you don't know where Baylon is?” he growled.
She blinked in surprise. “What? Is it in your best interest, all of a sudden, to believe me?"
"We can't talk here. Are you fully human?"
Odessa frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?"
"You're in a lot of trouble because Baylon decided to desert you. If you're human, you have no way of protecting yourself like Eyani does. If you're not human, you might have some built-in method of protecting yourself that I can only guess at."
"I don't understand. One minute, you're kissing me, the next, you're accusing me of being non-human. What's your game?"
He understood her puzzlement and kept his voice low, so the straggling bypassers wouldn't overhear. “I'm not playing games. I want to be prepared for whatever is coming. I want to know what makes you tick. It might save both our hides.” Along with his quick thinking.
"I want to go home,” she snarled, grabbing his jacket's collar. “Why don't you find a way home instead of playing games I won't ever understand?"
Her innocence showed through again. His head joggled back and forth as his eyes danced around. He couldn't deny she had a firm grip and a temper to match. He seized her wrists. “Listen carefully, Odessa. I'm only going to say this once because we're rapidly running out of time. I'm not playing games. I'm trying to save your life.” And mine, he corrected.
She snorted derisively. “Of course you are."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Pardua's soldiers gathering. The commander of the group of ten uniformed men hadn't seen them yet. The hair on the back of Harley's neck curled and fear prickled along his spine. “I don't want to go home in a body bag."
"A body bag?” Odessa's pulse picked up in the hollow of her wrist.
"You ever heard of one of those?"
"Of course! Dead people go home in them.” Her pulse skipped several beats as comprehension hit her full force.
A sharp intake of breath told him his words had sunk in. He didn't have a chance to say more as he pulled her along with him in a dead run. Now there was only one way off the station.
* * * *
In the years she'd been on Romaydia, the station had never been fully shut down. Concourses and corridors had been closed temporarily for minor repairs, but the station had remained operative. Violette stood in the dark shadows and watched travelers and residents alike debate what the hell was going on. She herself had no idea, but she suspected Pardua's patience had begun to run out with one of the men he valued, or there really was a virus running rampant. However, she doubted that was true.
As she studied Odessa and Harley, she noted how compatible they were. She stood shorter than he did by several inches, perfect for kissing and making love. He was taller and leaner and fierce as a Paduan jungle lion. They were meant for each other. If they could get off Romaydia alive.
Chapter 13
Brody sat at the dining table, his head resting against his palms. He had run out of ideas to get aboard a starship. At any rate, it would take three months to get to the nearest station, a place he had learned was named Romaydia. Could Odessa be there with the red headed jerk? Had his baby sister tired of her little adventure and wanted to come home? Or was she safe and happy and enjoying herself, while he worried himself sick?
"You could always call the President. See if he has an extra shuttle around he might be able to spare.” Jason patted him on the shoulder as he came in and took a seat beside him.
"What's the point? I can't fly the thing."
"He'll get one of his Joe ace pilots to fly it for you. That's the perk of being a President and being rich."
"It's not like Odessa was the first girl to get lost in space. Now I'm going to say, ‘Mr. President, I think my sister ran off with a no good redneck, and I think she might be in danger.’ He'd hardly send out a commando team for her."
Jason stuck his elbows on the table and the vinyl tablecloth. “Didn't you say you were going to clean up this place?"
"Don't put your elbows on the table, Jas. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"You didn't tell me in the first place—Odessa did. Remember that time I was dating Beth and Odessa made dinner specially for us?"
"Yeah. She set two candles in the middle of the table and made a mouth-watering pot roast with baby beans and mashed potatoes."
"Not to mention that Beth was thrilled someone had cooked her a decent meal. I was kissing that gal when I thought we were all private, and Odessa comes marching in, yelling, “Surprise!” at the top of her lungs. She had made us a cake to celebrate our ‘togetherness,’ as she called it."
"Yeah. And she told you to get your elbows off the table.” Brody laughed. “I just can't help wondering what happened to her."
"I was wondering the same about Beth. I had my elbow on the table because I was French-kissing the gal. Gosh, she tasted good, and I know she was about to take her bra off."
"Too bad Odessa ruined your fun, huh?"
"Yup. I guess I deserved that though. How many times I interrupted her when she was playing Jazz-Tas with that Rooney fellow."
"How many times you got slapped for it.” Brody couldn't keep the poignancy from his voice.
"Or how many times I followed her when she climbed out her bedroom window when she thought we were all sleeping."
"She always said she went out to smell the roses. But that's kind of hard to believe in the middle of winter."
"Yeah. If she came back, I wouldn't follow her anymore."
"Me neither."
"I'd let her see any geek she wanted to."
"Right."
"Long as she didn't make love to him."
"Right. Or kiss him."
"You boys are a hell of a lot of fun. Doesn't misery love company?” Uncle Peter stormed into the kitchen, his pipe between his lips and a coffee mug in his right hand. He headed toward the coffee maker and poured himself another cup.
"Isn't that stuff going to kill you?” Jason wondered how many more cups of coffee his uncle could drink without drowning.
"Naw. It's got plenty of caffeine, and I need as much as I can get so I can stay awake to watch Joanna Petrocheeni on TV tonight. She's got a special on, you know."
Brody and Jason groaned in unison.
"So which of you lunkheads is going to call the President to inquire about a free spaceship to get your sister?"
"Neither of us,” Jason responded. How had his uncle heard Brody's stupid idea? He must have his hearing aid turned up high.
"Shame. You should ask the President if he wants to go with you. Can't be easy in his position, governing all day and half the night."
"Yeah, he might want to go with Joanna Petrocheeni, if she went along."
"Nope. Not with my Joanna. If we get a spaceship, we're going to have the sucker all to ourselves."
Brody nudged Jason.
"Ow, cut that out,” Jason yelped, planting a hand over his injured wrist.
"I didn't touch you,” Brody responded, knowing his brother was playing with him.
"That's right, boys. Stop fighting. You're not in college any longer, at those frat parties.” Uncle P
eter's eyes twinkled. “I got to meet Joanna Petrocheeni. She's the love of my life. Maybe I can die happy if I can set my world-weary eyes on her and her legs."
"We want Odessa back. Do you think Joanna can help?” Jason asked.
Brody gave him a look that would have withered a healthy rose in mid-summer.
"Not unless she can talk to the President. He's got clout, although, I've heard he doesn't have as much as he used to in outer space. Too dark to have much clout, I heard."
Brody shook his head. “Unc, you've got to get a better understanding of space. It doesn't matter if it's dark or not. You can still do stuff."
"Sure it does. Don't know if the enemy is about to attack or not. In my time, dark didn't mean sleep. No, sir. It meant it was time to attack."
"This isn't getting Odessa back,” Brody muttered, placing his head back against the heels of his palms. He couldn't think or sleep or eat, worrying about where she was. His baby sister might need his help, but there was no way to get to her quickly, assuming she was on the nearest space station.
"Can we call the station?” Uncle Peter asked. “Nothing like old-fashioned communication to ask questions."
"Like a telephone?” Jason nodded in disbelief.
"Yeah, son. Where've you been all your life?” Uncle Peter walked out with his steaming cup of coffee. Seconds later, Brody heard the rocking chair sliders creak out on the porch.
"Probably cost a fortune, but let's see if we can't call Romaydia and talk to someone there. See if Odessa is there."
"They might not speak the same language we do."
"Translators will take care of that,” Brody said, snapping his fingers. He wouldn't be deterred by a lack of communication.
"What's the best way to make that call?"
"Use the phone, son,” Uncle Peter called out.
"Can't argue with the man,” Jason whispered. “Makes sense, don't you think?"
"What if there is no phone line out there? Then what?"
"Then you walk, son."
"Well, how do you talk to someone?” Jason wished his uncle would stay out of the kitchen conversation if he was outside.
"And don't forget that diplomatic immunity stuff."
"What's he mean by that?"
"I just heard about it on TV, but it didn't make a whole lot of sense to me,” Uncle Peter shouted. “The President arranged for all humans to have a thing called diplomatic immunity if they were on a mission to other planets. Heard it wasn't too popular with them guys from them other wongo planets."
"Wongo planets?” Jason wondered at his uncle's eclectic vocabulary.
"Yeah, son. If you ain't human, you're a wongo."
Jason shook his head from side to side. Was his uncle losing his mental well-being? “I see. If you're not one of us, then you're a wongo."
Brody laughed out loud. “Got to love that theory. Not!"
"Getting back to the subject at hand, which is Odessa, the president wouldn't believe she was on a mission."
Brody decided this was a good time to clean his nails with the paring knife.
"Sure, she was,” Uncle Peter stated. “She was on a mission of love. Don't matter none if it didn't work out. ‘Sides, we don't know that for sure. She might be married and have twenty kids by now. She's still got that thing called diplomatic immunity."
Jason headed for the phone. “There isn't any harm in checking this out."
"Might want to call the Foreign Affairs Department first. I don't know if they're the ones who deal with them wongos, but give it a shot."
"Okay.” Jason got an instant connection to the Department of Foreign Affairs. He didn't feel quite so useless when he was doing something—even if it was a bit out of his league and practically impossible.
Chapter 14
Odessa's pulse raced as she ran alongside Harley down a darkened corridor, where anyone could be lying in wait for them. She sank against a wall midway between two spokes and tried to catch her breath. “Where are we going?” she asked. Whether the man was drop-dead gorgeous or not, she had no idea if she could trust him.
"I'm hoping we can get to Eyani before he leaves. He can shield us for short periods of time, so we can get onto a space ship undetected."
"Is it foolproof?"
"Nothing ever is,” he muttered, seizing her upper arm. “We've got to keep going."
Weary and hungry, her breathing labored, Odessa started to run again.
"Have you worn one of those black helmets?"
"I don't know what you're talking about.” The nightmare of being forced to wear one returned. Would he demand she wear one? She couldn't. Not again.
A month earlier, aboard The Drifter, Roland had coaxed and wheedled. “Come on, Des. It won't hurt you. All it's meant to do is protect your head, in case you get really rocking with the movie you see in there."
"I don't like wearing hats or anything,” she explained, staring at the helmet. “I'm scared in them.” She couldn't explain the fear to herself, let alone to anyone else. Perhaps the negativity inherent in the color bothered her.
"Don't be a sissy. It's just a helmet,” he persisted, planting it in her hands. “Would you like me to put it on for you?"
"This isn't one of your jokes, is it?” She imagined mud from inside the helmet splattering down her face as she set it on her head.
His eyebrows notched up in an imitation of guileless innocence. “Why would I do that?"
"Oh, only because you've done it a time or two already.” Playing jokes on her had become his specialty. She didn't know whether he confounded her to teach her about outer space, or because he had a mean streak he hadn't shown before they left Earth.
"No worries, Des. This is the real McCoy. Put the thing on, and you'll see a movie. You won't get hurt. I promise."
She convinced herself that jokes weren't usually meant to inflict harm. Reluctantly, she set the helmet on her head and waited. “Nothing's happening."
"I told you,” Roland said confidently. “Now give me that pretty chin of yours so I can buckle you in for your ride."
Odessa didn't care for the closed-in feeling, but she allowed him to pull the strap taut against her chin. “Aren't you going to watch a movie too?"
"You're all the movie I need,” he said, pressing a little button on the helmet's outside.
She lost herself in a plethora of sounds and visual images. When the helmet came off, she couldn't have said how much time had elapsed, or what exactly she had experienced. She felt indolent and lethargic, not her usual wide-eyed and alert self. On questioning Roland, all he had said was he gathered she had enjoyed herself. The next time he had tried to coax her into the helmet, she had flatly refused. If she couldn't remember the experience, why bother? The memory rattled her composure.
A slight pressure on her arm aroused her from the past. The station was so bleak and uncompromising. “Thought I lost you there.” Harley pointed to a taller alien who was wearing an onyx helmet. “Like that?"
She shook her head, hoping he wouldn't be able to see she was lying. “I won't wear one."
"Each of us will have to. That's the only way we're going to get out of here."
"What does it do?"
"If it's not turned on, nothing but conceal our identities. The helmet makes it hard to tell who is who from the front and the back."
Out of curiosity, Odessa asked, “What happens if it's turned on?"
"You become part of a virtual reality scene, something you've imagined or physically seen at one point. It's like a movie playing, but the screen is your mind, and the movie is based on your imagination and memories."
She sucked in a breath. “Anything I can imagine?” She remembered the scenes of great beauty and greater destruction from her dream as she slept in the Ashtarian's quarters. Or had that been a dream? What if it had been reality? She shivered.
"Anything at all. It's becoming quite an addiction with everyone, young and old. Do you see that man wearing the helmet?” Harley aske
d, canting his head toward a solitary man rambling the corridor.
"Yes."
"Do you see how his eyes are glazed over?"
"Yes."
"He's in the virtual reality he's created for himself. Perhaps he finds his life difficult or incomprehensible. The helmet dulls the mind with the same effect as if he was using a mind-altering drug."
"Where do they come from?"
"A company called Virtual-ity is putting them out. I believe Pardua is a share owner in that venture, but then, he has his hand in almost everything."
"Including drugs,” Odessa murmured softly. “How much do they cost?” She guessed not much. The helmet was only a piece of plastic with some padding inside.
"On Romaydia, they cost about two months’ salary."
Startled, she glanced at Harley. Those ugly pieces of headwear were extremely expensive. “I see.” She pulled him aside, into the shadow of a structural metal girder. The glacial expression was once again in place but softened, she thought, by a light burning bright inside his mind.
"I want to kiss you,” he said, his voice comforting and endearingly masculine. “I want to kiss you and love you until the dawn breaks over the mountains.” His eyes devoured her, making her skin tingle with awareness.
"There are no mountains here,” she murmured.
"No, not here, but on Earth there is."
"Especially where I come from.” Homesickness overcame her, making her long to see the snow-capped Cascade Mountains. She couldn't help herself and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him close against her chest. “Kiss me now. Please."
Odessa fell into the depths of his eyes—pools of liquid brown. Saw the enforced isolation, the world-weariness in the tight set of his lips. What had happened to make him such a hard man? Why did she feel so drawn to him?
She wanted to run away, but her feet wouldn't obey her commands to lift them so much as half an inch from the floor. Her thoughts roiled in a tumultuous circle. This man had been ready to turn her in to the Murrach. Now, here she was, tilting her head, inching her hungering mouth closer to his sexy lips.
He grimaced, lowering his head to hers. She tilted her head up to taste him. Her vivid dream of making love to him came back to titillate her. The kiss was all she had imagined it would be. Hot and spicy and sweet.