No Such Thing

by Michelle O'Leary

  "What? About the blasts? I thought you said they didn’t do it."

  "They didn’t themselves, but I’m pretty sure they know who did."

  "How do you know? What did they say?"

  Ryelle made a face, running her fingers through her dark hair in an aggravated gesture. "Oh, I got the full complement of threats, accusations, and demands. The GenTec haven’t gotten any more attractive, let me tell you. Not in face or in attitude. But when I mentioned the explosion, they seemed…smug. Told me my time was running out, that justice was coming for the Death Dealer, blah, blah."

  "They could’ve just been using it. Trying to plant doubt."

  "Rhetoric has never been very effective on me. I would have dismissed it, except the children are acting peculiar as well."

  A stab of fear made him stiffen. He’d left her alone with those GenTec creations. "I’m coming up."

  "Declan—"

  He ended the connection without waiting for her to finish, heading for the door with distance-eating strides. His heart knocked in his chest, urging him to run. He almost collided with Mick in the corridor.

  "Sir, there’s been another—"

  "I know. The telenetic has it contained. She says there are no injuries, but check it out anyway. Use caution, investigate like the first site. I’ll be there when I can," he called over his shoulder, not having slowed his stride.

  Ryelle was still in her quarters and he fretted over this for a moment before deciding it was for the best. The converted storage room they’d set up for the children was closer to the outer hull of the station and he couldn’t be sure the bomber was finished. It was more likely that he’d just gotten started.

  He made it to Ryelle’s quarters in record time, breathing a little fast when he stalked through the door. What he saw made him skid to a halt and stare. The furniture lined the walls of the living room, leaving an expanse of floor space in the middle. The three children sat on the floor facing one another in a rough triangle. Floating in the air between them were several containers and unidentifiable globs. Ryelle sat with her legs curled under her in a chair against the wall, watching them with her chin on her fist and a small curve to her lips.

  The situation was peculiar enough to warrant a second look, but what made Declan stare were the children’s faces. Jake was grinning, Daniel had a smirk on his lips and an intent gleam in his eyes, and Rose smiled serenely while her black eyes twinkled. They looked almost—normal. Gleeful. Impossibly different from the mask-like, coldly impassive faces he remembered from their first encounter.

  "What the hell?" he asked.

  "They’re making pizza," Ryelle explained without moving from her position. "A little tricky—we’ve had to make some substitutions in ingredients and ad lib a bit, but I think it’ll be edible."

  Now Declan could identify some of the things floating between the children. He guessed the whitish glob that seemed to be writhing and bucking all on its own was pizza dough. The red mass, he was alarmed to see, was sauce floating free of any container. Other ingredients whirled and spun in their own strange dance.

  "She said round and flat," Rose said with a laughing lilt in her clear voice. "That looks like the back end of a poonta."

  Jake snickered and Daniel sent the girl a quelling glance. "If you would stop yanking on it, I could make it flat."

  "Hurry up. I wanna put the sauce on," Jake said, bouncing a little on his rear.

  Declan edged around the children, heading for Ryelle, but stopping short when he felt the brush of her power. He sighed, remembering that she was working on several different areas now. He’d wanted to have a private talk with her but resigned himself to an audience.

  "Pizza?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Ryelle’s smile grew, her eyes soft as they lingered on him, sending his temperature up a few degrees. "Killing a few birds with one stone. It’s a training exercise, keeps them occupied, and produces dinner, all in one. Focus on smoothing it out toward the edge," she added to Daniel.

  "Smoothing," the boy muttered, leaning toward the dough with a look of fierce concentration. The dough swirled, taking on a basic plate-like shape, only to crumple up in waves while Jake giggled behind a fist. Daniel made an exasperated noise and glared at the smaller boy. "I will thump you, little brother."

  "You will do no such thing," Rose commented in a serene tone, her eyes trained on the dough as it balled up and then swirled out again, forming a credible pizza crust. "There. She said the sauce is applied next."

  Declan blinked at them then turned a baffled gaze on Ryelle. "Is this what you meant by peculiar?"

  She smirked. "Actually, this is about as normal as it gets for telenetics. When I said peculiar, I meant furtive, almost guilty." Her face sobered as she looked at the kids again. "Children, can you tell us anything about the explosions?"

  Daniel stiffened, Rose’s eyes cut to Ryelle and back to the pizza while her mouth thinned, and Jake looked down at his lap. The pizza wobbled, sauce spilling over the edge and splattering on the floor. "We know nothing," Daniel said in a toneless voice.

  "Ah," Declan said with a nod. "Peculiar."

  "Right," Ryelle responded with a dry glance.

  Declan moved closer to the children, pausing just behind Jake with a murmur of discovery. He could feel their telenetic ability working but was fascinated by the difference between their talent and Ryelle’s. Instead of a tingling caress on his skin, it was a simple pressure, like leaning against a flexible wall. Edging around the boy, he stuck an arm into their triangle, avoiding the ingredients. At the feel of their power, he drew in a sharp breath of surprise.

  "It doesn’t hurt?" Daniel asked and Declan glanced down at him in puzzlement. "Telenetic Soliere’s power seemed to hurt you. Ours doesn’t hurt?"

  Ryelle made a sound that could have been a choked off laugh, but Declan refused to look at her, feeling a flush climb his neck. "No, it doesn’t hurt. It feels like…water. Running water through me." He could feel them, feel their talent going through him as Ryelle’s always did, but it didn’t caress, didn’t stroke and tantalize. Much weaker than her touch, it felt only like a wind blowing around him. Or water, as he’d told them.

  "You are different," Rose stated, studying him with those disconcerting ebony eyes.

  "And you’re the picture of normal, kid," he retorted, pulling back from the triangle. Damn, that had been a really stupid thing to do. Not only had he put himself in danger, but now the three GenTec telenetics knew he was a sensitive. What had he been thinking? Obviously, he hadn’t been. Just acting on curious impulse. Stupid curious impulse.

  He sent Ryelle an anxious glance and she smiled at him with calm confidence. Right. The Sunfire Angel was on the job. Taking a deep breath, he addressed the children. "So what aren’t you telling us about the explosions?"

  The pizza wobbled again and the children seemed to go still in their skins, retreating and losing that gleam of interest for the cooking game.

  "We know nothing," Daniel said again.

  "Bullshit. You know something or you wouldn’t all look like fugitives. This puts your lives in danger, too, you know. If there’s a catastrophic hull failure, everybody dies."

  Jake flinched, but Daniel lifted his chin like a soldier going into battle. Rose simply watched the pizza turn in gentle circles. "What is the next ingredient?" she asked Ryelle.

  "Anything you like. Be creative."

  Rose frowned as if this was a foreign concept but didn’t speak. The ingredients seemed to spin faster, their dance more erratic.

  "Tell me who is sabotaging my station," Declan growled in rough command.

  "We don’t know who it is," Jake muttered in a defiant little voice.

  "Hush," Rose admonished.

  Jake’s head snapped up, his young face rigid with emotion. "Well, I don’t wanna die, too! They never said stuff would blow up."

  Declan’s eyebrows rose and he crouched next to their triangle, studying the children carefully. "So this
wasn’t a GenTec plan?"

  Daniel shrugged. "They don’t tell us everything." He didn’t meet Declan’s gaze and his voice held a tinge of bitterness.

  "But you’ve guessed something. You won’t tell us, even to save yourselves?"

  "We can take care of ourselves," Daniel answered, but his eyes flickered to Rose with a hint of uncertainty.

  "They talked to somebody on this station," Jake declared, eyes flashing defiance at his companions when they made wordless protest. "They talked to ‘em for weeks. We were stuck out there forever, sitting and sitting while they talked. I thought we’d never get here."

  Declan met Ryelle’s wide eyes and took a careful breath. "Try the veggies next. Then sausage and cheese. Leave the pepperoni for last. Picking it off while the pizza cools is the fun part."

  Rose blinked at him then relaxed a little, clasping her hands in her lap and studying the saucy dough with a solemn face. "Thank you, MCE McCrae. I believe we will try that."

  Declan rose to his feet, keeping his gaze on Ryelle. "Put your communicator in."

  She lifted an eyebrow. "It’s already in. I was just waiting to see if you could find yours."

  He snorted and headed for the door at a fast clip. "I’ll be up at main ops. Let me know when the pizza’s ready."

  Her low chuckle followed him out the door. He headed for main ops then backpedaled in a hurry with a curse when he ran into a stream of her power. Right. The long way. With visceral hunger tightening his insides, he made his way quickly up to main operations, where Pete accosted him with desperate relief.

  "Dec, thank God. The generator got blown up. We’re—"

  "I know. Where’s my damned communicator?"

  "Ah, right here, sir." Pete pulled it out of his pocket, handing it over while carefully not meeting Declan’s gaze.

  Declan took it with a sour grimace and put it in his ear. "Ryelle."

  She made a purring sound that rubbed over him like silken hands. He snatched a breath and gripped the rail hard, peripherally aware that Pete was making a quick retreat to his work station. "Ah, Declan, I forgot what your voice does to me, breathing in my ear."

  "Damn it, Ryelle, are the kids still sitting in front of you?"

  "Yes. But they’re having fun loading the pizza and I’m keeping my voice low. So no sweet-nothings, darling?"

  He closed his eyes at the teasing invitation in her voice. "I’m not alone either. And some asshole is blowing up pieces of my station."

  "Some asshole who’s been talking to the GenTec," she murmured, all humor gone.

  "Right," he said heavily, accepting the horrible responsibility that one of his crew was working with the enemy.

  "Could be a miner," she suggested without much enthusiasm.

  He shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. "Not likely. The GenTec would want someone with regular access to the station. They’ve been talking to somebody for weeks, yet the bombings weren’t part of the plan. What were they talking about all that time?"

  "The supply run attacks," she answered promptly.

  "Yes. That makes sense. So who would they talk to about that?"

  "Most likely the supply ship’s crew. Are they always the same people?"

  "No. There’s a rotation." He turned toward his ops manager. "Pete, get me the supply line crew rotation."

  As Pete called up a holo, the station quivered under his feet.

  "What was that?" Declan snapped, clutching the rail tighter.

  "Docking platform," Ryelle and Pete said together.

  "Shit, shit, shit," Declan swore viciously. "That bloody bastard. Any injuries?"

  Pete was pale as milk, eyes round and hands shaking. "I’m checking…" he said in a weak voice.

  "No injuries," Ryelle responded in a tight voice. "Another unpopulated area. At least he isn’t resorting to murder."

  "Yet," Declan growled. "Ryelle says there was no one down there, Pete."

  The man visibly wilted, sagging into his seat. "Thank God," he mouthed.

  "Find Mick for me, Pete," Declan ordered in as calm a voice as he could manage. "Somebody else get me the crew rotation."

  "On it," Asha chirped from the upper ring.

  In a moment, Mick appeared before him, ghostly even for a hologram, his face haggard and eyes bright with veiled panic. "I don’t got enough personnel for this, MC. We can’t—"

  "Mick, take a breath. How close are you to finishing with the first site?"

  Mick blinked at him, as if Declan had switched to a different language. "First site?"

  "Yeah. How much more do you think you’ll get out of it?"

  "Well…nothing. We can’t do a professional sweep—"

  "If you haven’t found anything major, we’ll let it drop. Get everybody out of there, seal the bulkheads. The telenetic will let it go to vacuum." He trusted Ryelle to be following along and comply when everyone was out. "I need your people to round up all the crew that does the supply runs. Contain ‘em somewhere safe and isolated. Got that?"

  "Yes, sir. But why?"

  "Suspects, Mick. Use caution, but don’t get too enthusiastic. Most of ‘em are probably innocent."

  "Got it. Ah, Chief, one thing we found at the second site…"

  "Go ahead."

  "Bomb itself was gone, but we found remains of what might’ve been a trigger. Suggests remote detonation, maybe a timer, but not for sure. We got nobody who knows this kind of thing." Mick grimaced in apology for his team’s inadequacy.

  Declan waved it away. "Shit, Mick, I’m amazed you guys could figure that much. I hired you to keep my drunken crew in line, not play detective and hunt me a bomber."

  Humor eased some of the stress lines from Mick’s long face. "Be nice to go back to bar bouncin’ and boring ass guard detail. I’ll let you know when everybody’s rounded up."

  "Thanks, Mick."

  The security head disappeared and Ryelle murmured in his ear, "Remote detonation? They could have hidden those bombs days ago, or weeks ago, and just set them off at leisure. There could be more."

  An icy hand tightened on the back of his neck and he sent Pete a grim glance. "Any chance we could scan for explosive elements?"

  Pete ran quick and destructive fingers through his hair, setting it wildly on end as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I don’t know. We don’t have the proper tech, but we could try to rig something."

  "I didn’t put together the brightest damned team in the company for nothing," Declan said with a hard grin. "Asha, you got that rotation?"

  "Right in front of you," she called as a holo appeared with a list of names and supply runs.

  "Thanks. While you’re at it, crew, find me a remote signal that could detonate a bomb."

  "Sure, boss. Want we should build a new galaxy for you while we’re at it?" Pete responded cheerfully, his voice steadier.

  "That would be overkill, Pete. Minor miracles only, please. Anything else is just showin’ off."

  "Noted, sir."

  Declan frowned at the crew rotation, studying it and searching for a red flag. Anything out of place. "Ryelle, how are you doing? Any problems keeping track of everything?"

  "I would rather not have to split my attention between so many things at once, but I’m handling it."

  "Just keep an eye on those kids," he ordered. "I’ll get the sites released as soon as I can."

  She made a sound like muffled laughter. "I don’t think we have to worry about the children. You should see them. The pizza is in the convector and they’re all lined up in front of it, watching the food spin and cook as though it’s the most fascinating thing they’ve ever seen. Ah, Declan," she sighed, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Will you make a child with me?"

  Alarm and lust thundered through him, scrambling his brain and sizzling his nerves. An image of her, round with his child, shook him down to his toes and stole his breath. The idea was terrifying and he wanted it with an ache that went all the way through to his soul.

  "MC? You okay?"


  Declan dragged in a desperate breath, making a vague gesture at Pete. He wasn’t sure if he was waving off the man’s concern or requesting urgent assistance.

  "Declan? Sorry, did I just give you a heart attack?" Ryelle asked, casual humor not quite masking the note of anxiety in her tone.

  "You’re…you want…we can’t talk about this right now," he wheezed, clutching the rail hard enough to make his hands hurt. "Damn it, Ryelle, I have to…to…" He floundered, mind blanking. There was something very important he was supposed to be doing. Besides burying himself so far inside his woman that he wouldn’t be able to find his way out again. He swallowed hard, eyes focusing on the holo in front of him. Oh, right. The crew rotation.

  Blowing a hard breath, he held onto his sanity with grim determination and read the list. Several times. About the fourth time through, his brain finally began to function again and he remembered his strategy. No red flags. Normal looking rotations, except three of the crew seemed to be on more than the others. Declan looked up which supply runs had been hit then compared those runs to the crew rotation. All his muscles tightened with fury at what he saw.

  Hissing in a breath, he snarled, "Pete, check the logs. When the second bomb blew, see if you can find a signal coming from medical."

  "What did you find?" Ryelle asked in a sharp voice.

  "Hang on," he told her, watching Pete while his body thrummed with violence. He knew before Pete spoke, just by the startled look on his face.

  "Yeah, how’d you know?"

  "Goddamned bastard practically gift-wrapped it for me. Surprised he didn’t try to tell me the one-armed man did it. Pete, get me Mick again."

  "You’re making less sense than usual, dear," Ryelle said mildly in his ear.

  He ignored her. When Mick’s face appeared before him, he growled, "Tell me you have every supply crew member with you."

  "Like you ordered, sir. Holding ‘em in one of the secure areas on level—"

  "You got Ventura?"

  Mick frowned. "Well, no. He wasn’t feeling so good. Clutchin’ at his stomach and sweatin’ something awful. I sent him back to medical to—"

  "Goddamn it!" Declan interrupted him. "Did you send anybody with him?"