Kicking Ashe

by Pauline Baird Jones

  Kicking Ashe

  By Pauline Baird Jones

  Published by L&L Dreamspell

  London, Texas

  Visit us on the web at www.lldreamspell.com

  Copyright 2012 by Pauline Baird Jones

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations used in a review.

  This is a work of fiction, and is produced from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people is a coincidence. Places and things mentioned in this novel are used in a fictional manner.

  ISBN- 978-1-60318-449-6

  Published by L & L Dreamspell

  Produced in the United States of America

  Visit us on the web at www.lldreamspelSusl.com

  * * * *

  I’d like to thank both Lisa and Linda of L&L Dreamspell. Without them, you wouldn’t be reading this novel.

  I’d also like to thank Ana Baird for her help in making this book possible.

  I’d like to dedicate this book to my family, who have supported me through the ups and downs of getting this book done.

  PROLOGUE

  Ashe unhooked her munitions and strapped them together, while Lurch linked their timers.

  We can’t afford a long count down. Lurch knew that, but she thought it anyway. It kept her focused, helped keep panic almost at bay.

  It’s ready.

  Right. Using the last of the non-sentient drones, she anchored the bundle where—in theory—the main force of the time wave would strike. Lurch triggered the timer as she kicked away. First she felt the drag of the time tsunami and then the stream shuddered around her as if taking a blow from yet another source. The double hit stalled her thrust. She tried to angle sideways, tried going cross-stream, but instead of escaping, she was dragged toward one of the crevasses cutting jaggedly across time’s plain, pulled back into the path of the tsunami.

  Dive into it.

  For a second more she resisted the nanite’s suggestion, but there was no time to argue, no other option. It couldn’t get worse than the double hit—she relaxed, letting it suck her down, and found that it could get worse. Pressure, counter pressure and the drag from above yanked her in every direction. Only her time gear kept her semi-conscious and that wasn’t a blessing. On some level she sensed the wave gathering time into its giant fist. Counting down with the timer, she imagined the impact as wave met disrupter blast…

  Tried to brace for the coming concussion.

  Tried to dive deeper.

  Failed…

  ONE

  Expect the unexpected.

  Ashe’s painful return to consciousness was not expected and shouldn’t have been. Why would she expect to survive a trifecta that included a time tsunami, their disrupter and a wonky time crevasse? Unless she hadn’t survived? Lurch?

  A long, scary long pause ended with the sense of something unfurling inside her, not unlike how it had felt when the nanite first blended with her. Are you all right? He felt as off balance as she did.

  I am alive.

  He did not feel thrilled by this. She shared that not-thrilled-ness. Should open her eyes, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to see where they were. It didn’t feel great. Hard, lumpy surface under. Hot, humid air over. Achy body in between. And, adding insult to time tsunami injury, the air reeked of sulfur and was thick enough to feel like a blanket she couldn’t kick off. She shifted to ease hard and lumpy—

  “It moved.”

  It? Outrage popped her eyes open, though they probably shouldn’t until she got a better sense of who thought she was an it. The circle of faces looming over her jerked back, a thicket of weapons sliding into view. Would have been kind of funny if every barrel of every weapon weren’t pointed at her. Seven of them, she noted, hoping her math was wrong as she eased her hands up by her ears into the classic surrender position. Would they recognize or honor her capitulation?

  On the ground, flat on her back—if she didn’t count the lumps—gave her a unique perspective on the boys and their guns. The weapons appeared high tech—an interesting contrast with their rustic garb. The boys were all young, square and stocky in build, kind of what she’d imagined dwarfs would be like, except they were too tall and had better noses.

  Dopey, Sleepy, Sneezy—

  This is not the time. Though she found herself finishing the list because she couldn’t help it when there seemed to be a face for each name…Bashful, Doc, Grumpy and Happy.

  “It has eyes.”

  It. Again. Their manners needed work, just in case the barrels in her face weren’t enough of a clue polite wasn’t in their skill set.

  One of the boys licked his lips. “Do you think it’s dangerous?” His hand tightened on his weapon, the finger on the trigger twitching in a way she couldn’t like. Sucked to be called an “it,” though getting shot while being called an “it” would be worse.

  Getting shot is worse than most things.

  True. She’d picked a bad time to wake up. My shields?

  Off line.

  Great.

  Indeed.

  “I do not know.”

  The voice, calm and familiar, came from the region of her head.

  Is that who I think it is? Ashe did not mind the distraction from maybe getting shot by Dopey. And she’d rather hoped to run into him again.

  Vidor Shan.

  Lurch sounded less than thrilled. Not a surprise. He had issues with Shan that trailed back into at least one alternate reality. Possibly more. What’s his problem? I know he’s seen girls before.

  You are wearing the Time Service uniform.

  Oh. If her shields were offline, then so was her camo, which meant she looked shiny silver from head to toe. The suit’s compression factor made her a sex-less humanoid with eyes. Crap.

  On a cracker.

  The interjection almost made her eye twitch, though, on consideration, it rather fit. Any idea where we are? She felt his hesitation, felt a wave of panic slither through her insides. You can’t connect?

  Knowing everything was Lurch’s specialty. Sometimes that annoyed. This was not one of those times. She raised her chin, taking it slow, stopped when Shan came into view. Hard to figure out how she felt about this unexpected meeting with her head still spinning from her trip into, well, she wasn’t sure where they’d been or how they survived. She had no sense that Lurch’s databases had updated with current time data, which they should have as soon as they reintegrated with real time. Shan looked subtly different from their last meeting—which indicated the lack of update wasn’t because nothing had changed—while retaining those aspects she’d found a bit intriguing from their previous encounter on the planet of Kikk.

  A bit?

  Ashe ignored this non-relevant interjection. She needed to study Shan as an aid to data collection, not because she liked looking at him. She ignored the internal and also non-relevant snort. The angle wasn’t optimal for a complete assessment of course, but generally he appeared to be as barbaric as she’d previously noted. She sensed he was more than he’d been before which was a bit wow, because he’d been pretty intense at their last contact. Tall and sharp featured with green eyes and dark hair, he exuded a bucket load of testosterone mixed with aggression that was a bit at odds with his stoic expression. The men of her time were more refined, more civilized. More boring. Apparently her hormones liked barbaric. And leather hugging broad shoulders, lean hips and long, strong legs. She took a minute to be sure. Yeah, all of her liked the leather.

  Why are females of your species attracted to buccaneers in leat
her?

  Lurch sounded more resigned than annoyed, which was a change. Because he refused to detail his issues with Shan, she couldn’t share them, though to be perfectly honest, even if he had she might not have shared them. She was a female of her species. And the leather was nice. She accessed Lurch’s information on buccaneers and could concur his definition fit Shan as well or better than hers. He was both rakish and swashbuckling. Had dangerous down pat, too.

  Maybe I’m just relieved to find a familiar face.

  They both knew she lied. Lurch knew exactly what effect Shan was having on her pulse, respiration and temperature—which he could have fixed if he weren’t in such a pissy mood. The thing was, she’d seen a lot of nice looking men traveling through time, but this was the first one to have any effect on her biologicals. Shan’s hands rested on weapons holstered at his narrow waist with a boldness that boosted those biologicals even more. She sighed. He buckled his swashes quite well.

  You always did love armament.

  Don’t love it when they are pointed at me. Not when she had nothing to point back. A pity she’d needed to use every weapon she possessed in their time disrupter. She considered her situation for a couple of seconds and had to conclude that even her usual armament would not help much when she was flat on her back inside a pit of some kind. Lower than the low ground. Not in the same star system as the high ground. The weapon a few inches from her face wobbled and the boy’s finger tightened on the trigger.

  Lower my headgear before he shoots me. She had some slight hope that being a girl would help. It had in the past, or possibly the future, depending on where and when they were.

  Also not responding.

  Of course it wasn’t. Be ironic if they survived all time almost ending only to be killed by this boy. She opened her mouth—the boy jerked in alarm.

  “Don’t—” Shan snapped out.

  Too little, too late. The energy beam hit her mid-section and with enough force to cross her eyes for several seconds. Would have knocked her on her ass if she hadn’t already been there. She whuffed a few times, trying to breathe again.

  Your suit dispersed most of the charge across its surface, but you are fortunate it was set to stun.

  Didn’t feel fortunate. Didn’t feel that dispersed. Ashe rubbed the spot. “That hurt.” A bit of a whine to the complaint, but she was a girl who’d just been shot. Whining seemed indicated and justified.

  All the boys’ eyes widened and then her headgear decided now was the perfect time to retract. It triggered with a loud wheeze it hadn’t had before the tsunami ass kicking. While she didn’t mind the sudden flow of air around her neck, it should have stopped retracting just under her chin. It rolled down her chest on a path to over sharing, then stopped as abruptly as it started. Not that she felt cooler with the sun’s rays hitting her in her newly exposed areas.

  She blinked, noting that all the weapons had lowered at same rate as her uniform. That was good. So had boy gazes. Not sure if that was good. Or if she wanted to know her level of exposure. Might be need-to-know. Ashe eased her chin down and took a quick peek. Could have been better. Could have been worse. Didn’t realize I had a cleavage.

  It is a combination of angle and compression from your uniform.

  Trust Lurch to rain on her cleavage aspirations. The high sun—and seven sets of boy eyes—sent even more heat creeping up from that cleavage to spread across her face. She wasn’t sure if the over exposure helped or hurt her situation. I thought you said it wasn’t working.

  The energy surge seems to have powered the retraction function for a short time.

  And if someone decides to shoot me again? His silence wasn’t golden—not that it had ever been. Nor was his talking always that golden…

  “Y-you speak our language,” the shooter said. His wide-eye gaze met hers, then trailed back down to the cleavage, a flush boosting the red in his ruddy coloring.

  Keltinarian was among the billion or so languages at Lurch’s disposal—which put it at her disposal—so, yeah, technically she spoke his language. She half shrugged and the weapons lowered some more. Had a feeling their IQ’s did, too. Conflicted about that. Didn’t want to make them stupid enough to shoot her again, but it felt kind of empowering to cross their eyes like that. Almost as good as shooting them.

  “I’d like to get up.” Lurch had eased as much discomfort as he could, but he wasn’t a pillow and neither was the ground with crap stabbing her in the back like a bad friend. Gravity had a good grip on her and the recent tsunami kicking had left them both depleted, so she was relieved when all the boys stepped toward her, hands reaching out—they jerked back like a row of puppets on strings. What—Shan stepped into view, his large, tanned hand extended. He looked mega-tall from her spot on the ground. Her eyes traced his well-made form without hurrying. So maybe the low ground had one bright spot—

  Just take his hand.

  Not a punishment to have that big, strong hand close around hers. At least he looked in her in the eyes when he yanked her up—okay, little flicker toward the cleavage. No overt indications of IQ lowering, though a girl could hope. Almost wished his gaze had stayed down instead of boring into hers like he was mining for something. He didn’t release her either, which allowed some weird tingles to trail up her arm and take a pleasant stroll through her middle. Not quite close enough to catch more than a whiff of something male and musky, but too close to escape the slam of power he radiated like a solar event. Caught between wanting to move in and move away, Ashe froze—though cold was not the direction her internal temperature was trending.

  Lurch shook his version of his head, sending an odd, counter tremor through her insides.

  “You’re Grenardian.” The tone was flat, a bit menacing.

  “Is that why you shot me? Because I might be Grenardian?” The top of her head fell far short of his, her eyes level with the chest she’d admired from her prone position. It looked better up close. Her head did a little spin, from the abrupt blood flow change, not the guy. Lurch might have snorted yet again, hard to say when he felt miles distant instead of inside her head. Shan’s grip tightened at her wobble, then fell away when she steadied. Ashe tried not to take it personally, though it felt personal. She may have met a version of him, but he hadn’t met her. The mental reminder didn’t help as much as it should have. Didn’t make sense, but not much had since she left the Time Base and got lost in time. She felt an urge to smile but managed to repress it, helped by the somber menace in his gaze.

  Lurch sighed, a cool trickle of sensation along her insides. It helped with the heat, though not enough to stop a bead of sweat from tracking down her chest and into her recently exposed cleavage.

  The shooter stammered out something that failed as an answer or an explanation.

  “No.” Shan rapped out the single word.

  There were, of course, strict protocols in the Service for this situation, none of which helped when her suit tech was blown to hell and back. The urge to look away from his gaze was almost as strong as the urge to keep looking. The expression was hard, but the eyes themselves were intelligent despite that tendency to drill. Instinct lifted her chin in mute challenge, but she couldn’t think of a good reason not to state the obvious, “I do have a little Grenardian in my family line.”

  The passing of many seasons had diluted the purple skin tones from her people’s first contact—and an alliance mating with a Grenardian princess—but it had not managed to eliminate it. It wasn’t as if the little band of buccaneers didn’t have a range of skin colors, though none of them were in the cool color range. They trended pale to darker browns. She noted Shan’s attention sharpen. He studied her like she was a newly discovered specimen, which he shouldn’t if he’d had enough contact with the Grenardians to know about their purple skin. Not that she minded the attention—or that he took his time—starting at her toes and working his way up to hair that was mostly brown, but shot through with green, gold and purple—another Grenardian legacy
that had dug into the gene pool.

  “And the rest of your family line?”

  Careful.

  The “careful” space ship had crashed when she tried to funnel a time tsunami into an alternate reality with a great, big bomb. Now she wasn’t even in careful’s universe.

  “The rest is Garradian.” As much as anyone could be Garradian with all the alliance matings her ancestors had indulged in. She’d been called mongrel more than once, particularly after entering the Time Service where prejudice had been trapped in a bottle and dispensed regularly. She ignored Lurch’s flinch, as Shan’s brows tracked higher, almost vanishing beneath the uneven edge of the dark hair that tumbled across his forehead. Most of the men in her life were crisp and highly pressed, pretty rather than rugged. Their hair didn’t tumble, it lay in neat waves. Not that Shan didn’t have his pretty spots. Those lashes were a lush, comely frame for his eyes, and his mouth, well, it fell deep into the finely sculpted zone, which added up to pretty in her opinion. Still, this Shan lived in rugged, owned it, and worked it with confidence. Not that he’d been smooth the last time they met. He hadn’t been this—her gaze lingered on his unshaven chin—mussed either.

  Of course, neither had she.

  “There have not been Garradians in this galaxy for a very long time.”

  Did that mean they were in his galaxy?

  Perhaps.

  I know. Never assume. Shan and his boys gave few clues to where they were—and the boys couldn’t seem to look past her chest long enough to spill any secrets—so Ashe looked past them. She frowned, her gaze traveling up the side of the pit— “An impact crater?” A deep one, too.

  The time wave that carried us here must have made it.

  We’re lucky we survived. One of Shan’s brows shot up and the look in his eyes made her hands settle on her hips. “I did not cause this crater.”

  The edge of his stern mouth twitched. “It wasn’t here when we passed this spot earlier.” He paused. “Now it is here.” He paused again. “As are you.”