“I do not trust ye.”
“You don’t have to trust me, but if you want to stay on my ship, you will not be openly insubordinate again.”
“If ye intend to abide by Her Majesty’s edict that we all agree before the overlord is involved, I shall endeavor to be more respectful.”
There was that Mystic arrogance again. Trey shook his head. “Respect has to be earned, Master Vee. Even those of us without Mystic abilities realize that. If you have a problem with me, come to me. Don’t bring it up in front of the other officers. Understood?”
Vee inclined his head. Trey stormed from the conference room. This was just what he needed. A Mystic mutiny!
Dro Tar loitered not far down the corridor. “Is he suitably browbeaten?” she asked with a blinding smile.
“My browbeating techniques obviously need improvement when I can’t even get my officers to remain attentive during a simple briefing.”
She fluttered her long, gold-tipped eyelashes at him. “Sorry, boss. You know me. Tell me what to do, I do it. I don’t need to know the whys and I definitely don’t need to listen to you debate philosophy with Vee.”
“Okay. I need you to pose as an orderly in the Center. Al and Mage Gerr have got everything set up. This will give you the clearances you need to do some snooping, but you’ll still be unimportant enough that no one should pay too much attention to you.”
“Gee, sounds like home.”
“Are you feeling neglected?” he teased. “You haven’t declared a social alliance since we left Ontariese. Why not?”
“I don’t mix work with pleasure. Just like you.”
“I can’t allow anything to distract me.” He wanted to see if Hydran’s scanners would detect the micro-transmitter Al had given him before the briefing. “She’s got to have my full attention.”
“She? Don’t you mean they? There’s more than one Ontarian down there from what I hear.”
Trey didn’t bother to defend the slip. Krysta was very much on his mind and he couldn’t pretend otherwise. Vee and Gerr couldn’t contact her without triggering Hydran’s alarms, but Trey had made Krysta promise she would call out to them if she needed assistance.
“There are over two hundred Ontarians. Are you up for another adventure?”
“Am I ever!”
When Trey arrived at the Center he was ushered directly to Dr. Hydran’s office. He sat in one of the chairs arranged in front of the large white desk and tried to look relaxed. Where was Krysta? What had Hydran done to her? Had she been allowed to heal Belle?
Trey had never suffered waiting well. A woman walked into the office a short time later. She held herself proudly erect. The stately grace inherent in her movements made her pale blue lab-coat seem out of place. Who was she? What was her association with Hydran?
Stealing glances at Trey, she placed a device on Hydran’s desk and assembled the pieces. Light gleamed off her rich brown hair, which was pulled back from her face and twisted into a severe knot at the nape of her neck. When Trey finally managed to catch a glimpse of her eyes, he saw they were the same powder blue as her uniform.
“Do you have a name?” he asked.
“Dr. Stacey. Dr. Corra Stacey.”
She turned her attention from the device and looked him full in the face. Trey flashed his most charming smile, but her expression didn’t change. She was older than he’d first thought and the interest in her gaze was entirely scientific.
“Would you permit me to run some scans on you, Mr. Darrin? I’ve a vast database, yet I’ve been unable to match some of your characteristics with those --”
“He’s not here for you to study, Corra.” Hydran cut her off as he came bustling into the office. Without another word, he activated the holographic projector Corra had just assembled.
Trey watched the image dispassionately, thinking Hydran was proving he’d allowed Krysta to heal Belle. But Krysta was jarred into a Mystic trance, her body trembled, her features twisted with terror. She was seeing a vision. Trey scrambled for the appropriate reaction. How would a person who had never seen a Mystic trance before react? A nervous laugh? Disbelief? Indifference? He leaned closer, studying the image from several angles.
“Is this for real?” His masked gaze darted from Hydran to the woman and back.
“Watch,” was all Hydran said.
Others rushed in. Elderly twins followed by half a dozen females. They surrounded Krysta in a protective circle. Krysta collapsed into their arms. Had they expected her to fall? “Does she do this often?”
“Listen,” Hydran snapped.
Krysta’s voice sounded odd. Shocked, Trey recognized Ontarian inflexion in her pronunciation as she spoke the prophecy. But how was that possible? She didn’t speak Ontarian, at least not consciously.
His gaze moved to Hydran. Did he understand what was happening?
Falling back into his role, Trey drawled, “Not much of a poet, is she?”
Corra chuckled. Hydran shot her an angry glare.
“That wasn’t a poem. It’s prophecy.”
Trey damned the black film covering his eyes, subtly distorting his vision. He wanted to judge every nuance of Hydran’s expression. Did he believe his own words or was he simply seeing if Mr. Darrin would?
“A prophecy?” Trey laughed. “Yeah, right. You antagonize a person with paranormal abilities and suddenly she’s a prophet? Isn’t that a little convenient? Oh, and what does she foretell? Not world peace or intergalactic trade agreements, but the doom of your program. She doesn’t like you, doctor. I could have told you that.”
“You don’t understand.” Hydran walked behind his desk and sat, each movement intentional, controlled.
Oh, she had him good and rattled. “So, make me understand.”
Trey could sense Hydran’s anxiety. “Why are you buying into this, Doctor Hydran?”
“Good question,” Corra muttered. “Are you finished with this?” She motioned toward the projector.
“Come back for it.”
“Yes, Father.” She put sarcastic emphasis on the title and strode from the office.
“Dr. Stacey is your daughter?”
Hydran studied him for a moment. “Corra doesn’t concern you. Krysta’s prophecy does.”
“You’re tied in knots over this. Don’t you understand? That’s exactly what she wants. Obviously, she faked it. I can’t believe you fell for it.”
Trey held his breath. Come on. Defend yourself! Tell me how this travesty began.
Chapter Seven
“I knew their mother passed it on to one or the other, and now I know which.” Dr. Hydran reached across the desk and deactivated the holographic projector.
Trey watched him closely. Hydran’s hands moved with steady confidence. His blue gaze revealed only shrewd intelligence and determination. “You lost me. Are you talking about Krysta’s mother?”
“Yes. They were named for their mother, Krystabel.” He started to say more, but then his gaze bore into Trey’s. “How well do you know Randolph Tor Meter?”
Anything he said now Hydran would verify, so Trey stuck to the truth. “Never met the man. He’s a friend of a friend. What does he have to do with Krystabel?”
“Not a thing.” Hydran’s lips bowed with the hint of a smile. “Randolph referred you to me, correct?”
“I told you, I spoke with a representative of the Symposium and they referred me to Mr. Tor Meter, who referred me to you. Why is this an issue now? I know you checked out my references before you --”
“Randolph’s correspondence led you to believe the primary focus of Operation Hydra is paranormal healing, but that’s inaccurate.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Hydran’s sudden effusiveness made him nervous. Crossing his ankle over his knee, Trey flicked a nonexistent piece of lint off his pant leg.
“I know you’re only interested in healers, but Krysta has other skills. More valuable skills.”
“Not to me. I need a healer. Whatever par
lor tricks your occupants can perform --”
“Krystabel prophesied several thousand documented events,” Hydran cut in. “What makes this even more amazing is she had little contact with the outside world. She had no concept of many of the events she predicted.”
“How was she with sporting events?”
Hydran slammed his fist down on his desktop. “Don’t mock me! If Krysta is half as good as her mother was, she can... I have to know what she saw. A vision always corresponds with the prophecy. Did she see the hero? Who will betray me? I must know.”
“And how do you intend to get this information out of the hellcat from ward B?”
“I won’t have to.” Hydran paused. “You’re going to do it for me.”
Trey laughed. “Oh, I am, am I? We already negotiated our deal. I provide you with field tests, and I --”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Darrin, this is more important than my financial problems -- or your need for a healer.”
Trey stood and headed for the door.
“Wait!” Hydran hurried out from behind his desk. “Where are you going?”
“How many times do you think you can change the rules before the players lose interest in the game?” He scowled. “This was supposed to be a simple financial exchange. I compensate you generously for the use of one of your healers. Then you wanted field tests. What do you expect me to do now?”
Hydran motioned toward the chair Trey had just vacated. “Please, hear me out.”
Stomping back across the office, Trey returned to his seat.
“I know you’re aware of Krysta’s attraction to you. We’re simply going to take advantage of that attraction.”
Ever thankful for the black film covering his eyes, Trey glared his hatred at the doctor. “And why would you believe anything she tells me? She knows I’m working with you. She knows anything she tells me, I’ll tell you.”
“Because you’re going to convince her that you’re her knight in shining armor, come to carry her away from her evil tormentor. You’ll touch her so tenderly she’ll believe anything you say.”
“I think you’re overestimating --”
“Trust me.”
Trey hated being interrupted. Uncrossing his leg, he let his booted foot hit the floor with a rebellious thud. “This isn’t a matter of trust. We negotiated an agreement and you’re reneging. It’s as simple as that.”
Masquerade or not, each moment he spent in Hydran’s presence pushed him one step closer to losing control. He felt restless and savage. He wanted to grab the good doctor by the jacket and beat him senseless. Then he could simply call for an evacuation team and head home. Except for Hydran’s private guards, and his Mystic-sensitive security grid, and his ties to the Intercontinental military...
“Trust me,” Hydran repeated with a sly smile. “I’ll make it worth your while. I’ve seen how you look at her. I don’t think you’ll mind what I’m asking. I’ll see to it she not only wants you, but needs you. She’ll burn and beg, and all you’ll have to do is withhold it until she tells you every last detail of her vision. Then, and only then, you give her what you both want -- for as long as you want to give it to her.” Hydran pushed his chair back and stood. “Wait for me in the lobby. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Wait just a minute.” Trey shot to his feet. “Explain exactly what you intend to do.”
Hydran rushed out of the office.
Trey hurried after him. “I want no part --” The door to the wards slid shut, ending the conversation. Trey smacked the panel with his hand. By the gods of the day moon, this couldn’t be good. The scanner beeped irregularly, prompting Trey to step away from the beam. He tried to return to Hydran’s office, but the door wouldn’t admit him. Was the security system interfaced with Hydran’s brain?
No wonder Krysta hated this place. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. And he’d just scratched the surface of the depravity. It had to end -- soon!
* * * * *
Krysta stared at the device in Dr. Hydran’s outstretched hand and blanched. It blinked rhythmically, displaying the steady beating of Belle’s heart. Each blip a mocking reminder that Hydran could make it her last.
“I won’t do it,” Krysta ground out, her teeth clenching.
When she woke up this morning alone in Belle’s room, it had confused her. Each occupant of the Center had their own schedule and her sister’s was designed to keep her away from Krysta as much as possible. But she reached out for her twin and found a barely discernible, unresponsive signal, and her confusion turned to fear.
The elders told her Brett escorted Belle from the ward about an hour before, but they didn’t know for what purpose. Krysta went to the commons and pretended to read, reaching out again and again, attempting to trigger a response in her sister’s mind.
Then, Hydran walked in with his two goons. There were four tables in the commons, but suddenly Krysta sat alone. The elders approached from across the room. Krysta warned them away with a thought. They meant well, but she didn’t need the distraction. Staying near the wall, they pretended to respect her privacy, but they watched and listened. She sensed their minds.
Krysta stood, sliding her chair out of the way with her foot. “I’m done dancing with you. I won’t do it.”
“Of course you will.” Hydran’s condescending tone made her blood boil.
Her hands clenched into fists as his bodyguards flanked her.
“You’ll turn us into whores? You’re tired of watching us perform, so now you’ll be our pimp?”
Hydran scowled. His guards grabbed her arms. “That’s not what I said,” he snapped. “Mr. Darrin was frustrated by your resistance. I assured him you’ll be less resistant this time.”
“And you’ll keep Belle in stasis until I overcome my resistance? This is emotional blackmail. If I don’t let him --” One of the guards clapped his gloved hand over her mouth.
“Let, sweet Krysta. That’s the operative word here. You will let him do only what you want him to do. There is nothing wrong with sex between consenting adults.”
The guard’s hand remained over her mouth, while the other pushed her head forward, pressing her chin against her chest. She lunged and twisted, but they were strong and used to her tactics.
“Stay back!” one of the guards commanded. “This doesn’t concern any of you.”
Then, why the exhibition? Krysta challenged mentally. Do they have equalizers?
Poised and ready, one of the elders responded.
Then, stay back.
She watched Hydran’s feet as he moved behind her. He swept her hair away from the nape of her neck and pressed something cold against her skin. It tingled, then burned.
“Hold her still,” Hydran ordered. “Just a bit more, Krysta. Almost done.”
The guards released her.
“What was that?” she shrieked, reaching back with her hand. Even the lightest brush of her fingers stung her skin. “What did you give me?”
Hydran tossed Belle’s monitor to her, smiling triumphantly. “Your date is waiting.”
She swung at him, but one of the guards caught her arm.
“Temper, temper,” Hydran said. “Why don’t you check on Belle?”
The monitor beeped and vibrated. Krysta’s heart lurched and she frantically searched with her mind.
Nothing.
“Please,” she cried, “stop it.”
With a chuckle, he made an adjustment on the control band encircling his wrist and the monitor returned to its previous rhythm. Belle’s presence, weak and unresponsive, reappeared within Krysta’s mind.
She released her breath in a slow unsteady hiss and tucked the monitor into the seam pocket of her pants. “There are no words vile enough to describe you.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something. Let’s go.”
Pulses of encouragement and strength inundated her as she followed him from the ward.
* * * * *
Krysta didn’t say a word as they s
huttled to his ship. Why was she so quiet? Where was the hellcat from ward B? Then Trey remembered surveillance equipment was likely attached to her clothes.
“We’ll find you something more comfortable to wear as soon as we get to the ship.” He hoped she understood his meaning.
Her expression didn’t change. This couldn’t be easy for her. Damn, it wasn’t easy for him. Hydran pulled the strings like a puppetmaster and they both felt compelled to dance. No, this had gone on long enough. He was finished playing Hydran’s twisted games. He would get her out of her clothes... into other clothes... and tell her some version of the truth. They had both been manipulated long enough. It was time for a counterattack.
Trey took her directly to his cabin and snatched a long-sleeved shirt from his locker. “You know the drill.” He handed her the shirt. “Toss everything out to me and I’ll find you something more appropriate to wear.” He motioned toward the utility room and waited until he had her last scrap of clothing. “I can stop by the galley while I’m gone. Are you hungry?”
“Thirsty.”
Well, one-word answers were better than silence. After incinerating her clothing, he went to the bridge and scanned his cabin. She was still in the utility room and there was no evidence of a transmitter.
“Commander Aune to Master Vee.” He waited impatiently for the Mystic to respond.
“What can I do for thee?”
Trey turned from the control console and found Vee standing behind him. Vee enjoyed Shifting his form from one place to another. For long distances he required a transport conduit, but within the confines of the ship, he could pretty much Shift in and out at will.
“Krysta is in my cabin. I think Hydran may have given her a sedative. Can you scan her from here, or do you need to touch her?”
“I can scan her from here, but to neutralize the sedative, I will need a closer proximity.” He didn’t speak for a moment. “I sense no sedative. Are ye certain of thy information?”
“No. She was just acting... never mind. Thank you.”
The Mystic inclined his head and Shifted from the bridge.
Ontarian Chronicles 2: Operation Hydra Page 6