Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars

by Melisse Aires

  “They’ll overtake us before I can shoot the rest of them free.”

  “I’m not asking you to open all of them. Just that one. They need a chance. If life went this far to make it, I won’t be the one to end it. And I don’t want to hear a word about it.”

  “Would it matter?” He hadn’t expected an answer and didn’t get one. Solia might be a fool, a saint, or a bit of both, but she was his to protect. If she refused to move until he’d done his bit, then that was just the way it was going to be. “Fine, but I need your gun for this. No need to add shrapnel or ricocheting bullets to our issues. Go.” He pointed to the door.

  “No.”

  Here we go.

  “Solia, I promise to open the flipping cage.”

  “It’s not that,” she said, shaking her hands in front of her. “I know you will, but you need someone to watch your back. I didn’t bring you all this way to get you killed.”

  The siren kicked up a notch in frequency and volume. What had mildly irritated before now had them both grimacing and clutching their ears. His lips brushed against her as he spoke at the top of his jacked voice. “One good shot and then I’m running, I promise. I need you to check the garage so I know what I’m running into. If you’re waiting, I know to fight. Otherwise, I’m expecting to hear a running rover.”

  He wanted to grab her and kiss her, give her comfort, and maybe take a bit for himself, but she’d nodded and zipped out the door, trusting him to hold up his end of the bargain.

  So he did.

  Gian increased the toroid output of Solia’s gun to heats high enough to melt metal. His aim was true. The lock hissed and steam rose and soon it gave way enough that when one of the clones stumbled against it, a small space cracked open before the clone could react to what was surely scalding heat.

  Gian considered locking at least this door on the way out, but a glance over his shoulder and he realized he couldn’t do it. He wished the poor bastards good luck and ran to catch up with Solia.

  The corridor led to a multistoried garage and warehouse. From the second floor looking down, he spotted no clones, just Solia busily digging through a stack of pallets and loading packages into a rover.

  “It’s labeled for food,” she said. “I think I have enough.” But smiled as she swung her head back and forth before tossing in another box. “Everything okay back there?”

  Before he could answer, shuffling footsteps echoed off the walls.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She hopped in the driver’s seat. After grabbing a box, he jumped in too. “You know, Gian, I was thinking—”

  “Really, right now?”

  “I know. It’s just, we have to be the ones to lead this. The technology’s out there now and it’s up to us to show the inhumanity of what happens when it’s misused.”

  “That’s nice. Sweet. Drive the fucking car.”

  Slight miscalculation.

  The expectation that the door would open upon their arrival like nearly other modern garage door in the entire friggin’ solar system, didn’t account for the paranoia of Mol McDermott. He could see the blinking red panel ahead as clearly as the clones behind them. He’d have to open the door by hand. “Pull up as close as you can. Cover me.”

  Gian didn’t get out until the guardrail of the rover clanked against the metal panels of the garage door. He took a deep breath and ran at full speed to the access box. He tried the numbers and—“Shit! Solia, I need the codes!”

  When she didn’t answer, he turned and froze at the sight of dozens of clones, feet away. He knew beyond a shadow of doubt that they were aware. Still, they didn’t move past the last edge of the racks. One by one, they lifted their hands and pointed toward the huge door.

  In the softest voice he’d ever used, he asked for the code again. Solia’s voice trembled as she repeated it, one hand on the wheel, the other holding her gun upright. He half expected a stampede as the garage door lifted, but nothing of the sort occurred. The clones stood and stared. That’s it.

  Gian stepped back to the rover and closed the door inch-by-inch, careful not to make any sudden noises. To his left, Solia’s breath came out in ragged huffs. She must have barely touched the accelerator—the rover moving out in a smooth, slow pace.

  Ahead, the marching clones they’d seen from the ridge turned to them, teeth bared and axes raised. These clones, also aware, were clearly not as open to visitors as the ones behind them. “Punch it, baby.”

  “Done.”

  Gian fell against the seat as Solia ripped the rover, spraying sand on the windshield and through the open windows. He plugged in the coordinates while she dodged groups of glaring clones. A quick “brace yourself” was the only heads-up he got before they plowed through the fencing and out to freedom.

  They passed a large, hollowed-out, smoldering shape. His shuttle. He didn’t blame the clones. This was Mol’s work. She hadn’t lied when she said she’d intended for Gian never to leave. He held on to that thought, knowing he’d need it to help him through the memories of what he’d seen here in years to come.

  Chapter Twelve

  Solia plonked her head against the side of the tire and wondered for the billionth time how much longer this day would last. Another hand-sized sand spider skittered in front of them. She arched up and squashed it with the heel of her boot. “That’s the fourth one today. It’s official: this is our worst date ever.” She slapped Gian’s back as water sputtered out of his mouth. “Stop laughing. We need to conserve that.”

  “I promise to bring more flowers next time.”

  “I could do with fewer clones, too.”

  “You brought those to the show, not me. I’ll throw in some bug spray and call it good.”

  “That’s a start. Lay down. I need to check those head bumps.” She patted her outstretched thighs and his full lips popped out in protest. She sighed, but not so secretly adored his pouty-face. “It looks to be healing nicely, but we’ll do one more sani-towel treatment—last one, I promise.”

  As expected, Gian squirmed like a worm out of mud when it hit his open wounds, but she gifted him a kiss for his troubles. He didn’t let her go. Gian’s hands snaked up her body, bringing her head down to his. He lapped at her lips until he groaned and pulled slightly away, leaving just their foreheads touching. “You don’t get to leave again, Solia.”

  She let her hands glide over his stomach, feeling the ripples of muscle beneath the tanned and bruised skin. “Now there’s something worth analyzing. Every time we kiss, you’re dripping with blood. It’ll be nice to give you a go under more pleasant circumstances.”

  “You have my wholehearted agreement.” Gian’s face cracked in a face-splitting yawn. “Can I sleep yet?”

  It broke her heart to shake her head. He’d been up for who knows how long before arriving, then their days on the run, and now this. He’d slogged through hell and none of it had been his fault. Albeit not directly, it’d been hers. Quite the hero.

  Could that be it? The root of this intense emotion he’d reawakened in her? Nightingale Syndrome, they’d called it, when a patient or victim fell in love with their savior. The thought that this was just a job for him left her grateful there was a tire to hold her up. “Guess this happens to you all the time now.”

  “The half-human babies? Twice a week.”

  “All those people and towns you rescue. I’m sure a billion women have thrown themselves at you. Mr. Hero.”

  He looked up at her, a half-turned smile on his face. “Trillions. A few hundred men too. My biggest problem is trying to figure out how to balance it all. Recent events have made things slightly easier for me.” Gian’s eyebrows drew together and all frivolity left his voice. “I meant what I said about you not being able to get rid of me, Solia. We’re going to try this again. Us. And for the record, the hero here is the woman who demanded help from a place where everyone was against her. You took a chance, even when you knew Mol could turn every gun she had on you. Then out there,” he said,
pointing to the west, “you were scared, but you never backed down. Tough, uppity doctors are hard to find these days.” He pulled her down for another kiss, one broken by whirring sound above them.

  Solia shielded her eyes from the whirling sand, but not before she caught Gian reaching for his sidearm. She ignored the stinging sand and followed his lead. The shape of a shield could just be made out on the shuttle, but if Gian didn’t trust it at face value, she sure wouldn’t.

  “That’s not our ride. It’s going to take our guy another day and a half at least.”

  “So who is that?”

  “No clue.”

  He didn’t pull her or attempt to run. No point, really. The landscape out here hadn’t yet been populated by much greenery. Whatever, or whoever, this was, they’d have to face it straight on. She stood next to Gian, muscles primed and ready.

  The door and accompanying stairwell hummed open, revealing a series of uniformed and fully armed soldiers, though not in the normal agency colors of blue and black. In the clearing dust, she could just make out the Meash Two symbol. A man she assumed to be in command stepped out in an elaborate green-and-gray tunic lined with rubies along the collar.

  Gian stepped forward, left hand outstretched. Left, she noted, not his primary weapon hand. That he kept free. “Mr. Hawkes, I presume? Your son has mentioned your, oh what’s the best way to put it? Forward thinking?”

  The thin-lipped Hawkes, who’d all but slithered out, flapped his hands in the air, a signal his people took to lower their weapons. “Giancarlo Sable. We were in the area and saw your message for assistance.”

  “Not assistance, just a ride.” He stiffened when the slender man harrumphed and crossed the sands toward them. “Let me introduce you to Dr. Solia Calian. I think any conversations we have should carry the stamp of approval of the lunar medical staff. Fifteen percent worth, I’d say. Not out of my portion, of course.”

  Hawkes’s blue cowl fell back as he erupted with laughter. It reminded her so much of one of Mol’s that she moved a step or two closer to Gian.

  “You don’t mince words, do you, Sheriff Sable? However, your reputation precedes you. Do you really expect me to believe that killing you isn’t my best option?”

  “Knowing Steven, I was expecting you to do a little better research. Check my files again—I’m good at protecting myself. Don’t for one second dream that your name isn’t on a file already set to autosend if I’m not back to prevent it. Dead, I bankrupt you. Alive, I’d only require twenty percent per annum with a small deposit to show good faith and get us started on the right foot.”

  “You said fifteen!”

  “That was for her. Me? Well, it’s like you said—I do have a reputation to protect.”

  Gian sounded so serious that she almost wasn’t sure if he meant to do business with the man. Her mind swarmed with questions while she tried to pull the pieces together. Hawkes frowned, indicating that perhaps he was doing the same. Only Gian’s face remained as blank and barren as the landscape. She knew beneath it he was working out a way to keep them alive, as much as Hawkes appeared lost in his search of a way to kill them. Their best hope was that greed won out over suspicion.

  “Fifteen for you, ten for her,” the man said, readjusting his cowl.

  “Seventeen five each,” Gian countered. “With an indemnity clause should this thing go sideways. And, just so you know, you’re not nearly as ready as you need to be. Meash Five lost control out there. Those things are running free and they’ve turned violent. You need to bring in the heavies.”

  The area where Hawkes’s eyebrows should have been, shot up toward his wrinkling forehead. Oh, Gian had him now.

  “We were on an excursion outside the facility when the alarms went off. Mol McDermott—”

  “Raging bitch.”

  “That’s the one. She sealed off the facility and left us out here to fend for ourselves. They ought to have control of things by now, but just in case, we’d just as soon wait for you here. Not for nothing, but that’s what seventeen and a half gets you. And you can get your eyes off my gun. The odds are two to thirty—I’m not going to try anything. But if those things come our way, I need to be able to defend myself.”

  A few of the men and women behind Hawkes started to shift their weight and low grumbles rolled through the crowd. Even Hawkes cast a wary eye toward the west. “How bad are we talking about?”

  Gian started drawing an outline of the grounds in the rough sand. He’d also called over the mercenary who’d been standing just slightly ahead of the others.

  To her shock, Gian was giving them good information—the best he could. It came to her that he was hedging his bets until real help arrived. What had he said earlier? Not assistance, just a ride. Nothing he’d said was untrue and could surely be confirmed by building specs. Why not establish a basis of trust? He did, however, keep the likely explosion of the main building secret.

  Solia pushed herself into the inner circle of testosterone. “And here’s what you’ll have to deal with inside.” This, the men drank up completely. She told them of various caging units and where to find them on each floor. More to her expertise, she shared the basic physiology of the creatures, how they moved, and what to expect. By the end of her spiel, every eye was wide, every jaw on the floor, and most every hand gave one or two reassuring pats to their weapons.

  It worked.

  Kinda.

  Hawkes hadn’t insisted on heading out to the compound, though he opted to send a few scouts ahead in their rover. While making camp, Gian fell into easy conversation with both Hawkes and the head mercenary, chatting it up like they were old friends. She only just avoided rolling her eyes and went back to her own conversation, answering the questions of the remaining mercenaries. She’d even convinced one of them to power up her nearly depleted firearm in preps for any upcoming clone attack.

  They still took shifts sleeping that night, but the tent provided to them had been comfortable and filled with prepackaged foods. Foods Gian tossed aside, saying, “It’s something about corporate espionage by way of slavery that makes me a little less trusting of their calorietabs.” The decompressed meals she’d stuffed in their vehicle earlier would have to suffice.

  He kept her snuggled close during the night. The arm that enveloped her held a gun pointed toward the door. She kept her own hidden in his otherwise empty boot, millimeters from her outstretched hand. She bent to kiss the biceps holding her safe.

  “Don’t do that again, unless you want me to do things to you in public.”

  “It’s a tent and that was only a peck.”

  “You forget that I know what those lips can do.”

  With every word, he grew harder behind her, his length pressing against her hips. He let go of the gun, placing it on the floor right in front of her. “Whatever you do, keep your eye on the door.”

  The arm under her neck hadn’t moved, but the one she’d kissed lowered until his hand snaked its way down her trousers, cupping her. “I never forgot how wet you get.”

  “Sorry I—”

  “Back to apologizing for that?”

  She gasped as he shoved two fingers inside her. “Suppose we have to thank your Thomas for that. Are your eyes still on the door?”

  “Yes, but Thomas isn’t my anything anymore.” She said it with no small amount of difficulty. While two fingers moved inside her, his thumb circled with agonizing speed, nearly to the point of delicious pain.

  “Damn straight.” It was the last thing he said before flipping her over and shoving his cock inside, balls deep, as promised.

  This was new. He’d always taken his time before – licking, sucking, wonderfully close to worshipping her. Not tonight though, this was different, possessive.

  Her body struggled to accommodate him, but when he tried to pull back, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her core. She’d forgotten his size and how much pleasure-agony making love to him caused. She’d missed it. The feelin
g of being stretched and filled and overwhelmed and yes, needed.

  Yes.

  This wasn’t lust, but relief. Assurance that good things existed before and after this terrible week. “Gian?”

  “Yeah?”

  Maybe his voice caught in throat. Maybe his eyes misted over. Maybe his tears fell on her face.

  And maybe hers melded with them. “We’ll be okay?”

  “We’ll be amazing.” He kissed her, then bracing himself on either side of her body, thrusted until the universe exploded around them both.

  ***

  The next morning, they exited their tent with food and coffee tablets in hand. If the soldiers thought anything of their previous night’s activities, no one said a word of it. Though, a few of the ladies gave her the odd thumbs up.

  Hawkes was the last to rise but wasted little time issuing orders to his crew when the scouts called back for assistance. They were under attack at last contact, but nothing had been heard from them in hours.

  The soldiers readied themselves for battle, openly outraged at Hawkes for having kept this information from them for so long. “It’s not enormously helpful if we get ourselves killed too,” he’d said to the crowd.

  “Money is money, Mr. Hawkes and as long as we take this place over, I don’t figure it matters how we do it. We’re going after our crew and we will do it going through you or around you. Your choice,” the lead merc said.

  Hawkes wisely stepped aside, head bent and shoulders sagging.

  “I don’t know who else you’re bringing out here for this, but for me and mine, they follow me because I take care of them.” Murmurs of agreement ran through the armed group. It was decided, by whom exactly she wasn’t sure, that ten of the thirty-plus mercenaries would go out to look for their comrades. The rest stayed on high alert at the camp.

  “I think I fingered the wrong guy for the boss here,” Gian whispered on the walk back to the tent. “Hawkes just writes the check. Keep close, we may need to make a move.”