by S. E. Smith
No kidding. She was actually considering this!
“Besides, due to your hospitalization and rehab, you’ve already been absent longer than anticipated. They’ve hired substitutes to fill in.”
Did she have the guts to do this? Con: she’d have to leave her home planet. She wouldn’t be able to tell people what she did or have visitors. Pro: she could save lives, repay her debt to Cyber Operations, put her language abilities to the test, and maybe, just maybe, see Guy again. He had to report to HQ sometimes, didn’t he?
“I’ll do it.”
“Welcome to Cyber Operations, Solia.” Carter beamed.
Twelve
The breeze of Solia’s wings kissed Guy’s face as he escorted her to the launch bay. His heart dropped like a lead weight into the pit of his stomach. You’re going to do this? Let her fly out of your life? Just because other relationships didn’t pan out doesn’t mean this one wouldn’t.
We don’t have a relationship. We have a friendship.
Whose fault is that?
He’d have to be blind to miss her longing glances, her crestfallen expression. If he gave her an inkling he returned her feelings, a more lasting relationship might develop.
Maybe—until he disappeared for months on end. He couldn’t expect her to put up with his absences. Mariah had proven it wouldn’t work. His job didn’t allow for a wife, a pet, or a permanent residence with a picket fence—whatever the hell a picket fence was. If he couldn’t adopt a kitten, how would he keep a woman happy?
He stroked Mittzi as he carried her. He would miss the little fur ball and her amusing antics.
They entered the bustling launch bay, and he spotted Carter’s ship, the serial number revealing it was a Cyber-4, a cruiser used for nonoperational purposes, typically personnel transport. Cyber-1 and 2 were fighter craft. Cyber-3 carried cargo. “Well,” he said. “This is it.”
Solia settled to the ground. “I can carry Mittzi now.”
He handed her over with a sense of loss. Besides his affection for her, the kitten symbolized what he couldn’t have.
Everything you won’t allow yourself to have? “You’re wearing the amulet, right?”
“Right here.” She pulled it away from her throat, and the crystal sparkled under the artificial lights. Mittzi swatted at it. “D-Do you ever get to Cy-Ops HQ?” she asked.
When he’d mentioned Solia’s Katnian language ability to Carter, he hadn’t expected the sneaky bastard to recruit her! On the positive side, there wasn’t a single place in the entire galaxy safer than Cyber Operations headquarters. He wouldn’t need to worry. Not about her safety, anyway. Cy-Ops agents and civilian employees came and went out of HQ, and Solia would turn heads. Perhaps others wouldn’t have his hands-off policy.
Solia wouldn’t take a tumble with just anybody. Faria mated for life. When she chose to get involved, the relationship would be permanent. His stomach knotted at the thought of her marrying. A growl erupted in his throat, and he coughed to cover it.
Solia’s alarmed gaze shot to his face. “What’s wrong? Why are you angry?”
“I’m not. Well, maybe a little, but only at myself,” he said.
“Why?”
He shook his head. “Not important.” He exhaled. “You—be careful. You’ll be safe at Cy-Ops. Carter will watch over you. You have the amulet. If you’re on furlough or anywhere and you need help, I’ll be there.”
She bowed her head then raised it and wet her lips. “What if I need…a friend?” Her tone filled in the details words omitted. What if she needed a lover? A mate? That’s what she meant.
His heart ached. He wished he could be her lover. For her, and for himself. But history had proven otherwise. In the long run, leaving her with false hope would be crueler than outright rejection, but he strove for the kindest way to let her down. “We’ll always be friends,” he said as if he’d misunderstood. He paused, hating himself as he prepared to deliver the coup de grâce. “You’re feeling grateful, but you don’t need to. I was doing my job.” I am such an asshole.
Her face grayed. “Then there’s nothing else to say, except goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Solia.” Guy kissed her cheek, his lips lingering for a fraction of a moment while he inhaled her scent.
Holding Mittzi to her chest, she flew to the waiting craft and boarded.
“Hello, I’m Solia,” she said.
“What is that?” Ridges across the Surelian’s face and neck bulged as he eyed Mittzi.
“It’s a baby cat. My pet. I was told it would be okay to bring her. She’s harmless.” The kitten contradicted the assertion by hissing and growling.
“Mittzi!” she chided. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why she’s acting this way.” Even without the hissing, the kitten’s emotions would have been easy to read. She radiated dislike.
Solia had expected the Cy-Ops crew to be Terran like Guy and Carter. Foolish. She herself was Faria, an alien to the Earth people. Why wouldn’t Cy-Ops employ sentients from other planets?
“Follow me. I’ll show you to your cabin.” An edgy impatience rolled off him. “Once you’re settled, we’ll get underway.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” She hadn’t realized she’d been holding up the launch.
He didn’t acknowledge her apology but spun on his heel and marched down the narrow passage. She followed, doubt and sadness weighing heavy on her. First impressions often provided a good indication of what one could expect later on. Would her new job be like this? All business, no warmth? No civility? The man hadn’t even introduced himself.
Am I doing the right thing? There was still time to back out. She could march off the spacecraft and go home to Faria.
Except her doubts had more to do with Guy than the Surelian’s attitude. She’d put her heart on the line and told him how she felt—and he’d rejected her. He’d understood what she meant by “friend” but pretended otherwise. Grateful? Of course! How could she not be? But it was insulting for him to believe that’s why she’d begun to care for him. Solia swiped at her eyes. He’d communicated his feelings enough; he wasn’t interested in her in that way.
Rebuff them before they rebuff you. How much of her pickiness in choosing a mate had originated from fear of rejection? She’d thought she needed a Farian mate—until she met Guy. Then her standards had seemed more like impediments to finding love.
Before, she had hoped to run into him at HQ. Now, she prayed she wouldn’t. Still, she didn’t regret taking the job—if she could assist in preventing torture and murder by the Ka-Tȇ, then she had to do it.
Nor should she judge Cy-Ops based on the actions of one surly Surelian. She kept a firm grip on Mittzi who had stopped hissing but continued to growl. Like all members of his race, the Surelian was bald, and his skin had a greenish cast. Ridges crawled up the back of his neck, along with a tattoo. His somewhat disheveled uniform covered most of the tat, except for a point. Something about the marking looked familiar. She frowned.
A rumble vibrated through the ship as it prepared for launch. This is it! No backing out now. She fell against the wall as the craft took off. They hadn’t wasted any time in leaving.
“In here.” The Surelian gestured to a cabin.
A very sturdy, almost-reinforced metal door slid open. None of the shuttles she’d ever flown on had such stout doors. Maybe reinforcements were normal on a Cyber Operations ship. She tried to remember the other cabins they’d passed. She hadn’t paid attention to the doors.
“You will stay here…until we arrive,” he said.
Solia fingered her amulet. Like an eddy picking up leaves, nervousness swirled in her stomach. Something seemed off. “H-how long is the trip?”
The Surelian’s gaze snapped to her necklace. “What is that?”
“W-what?” She dropped the pendant.
“Your necklace—it disappeared.” The Surelian’s hand shot out, grabbing for her throat.
Mittzi hissed, and Solia fell back into
the tiny cabin. The Surelian’s nails scraped her skin as he latched onto the amulet and yanked. The chain cut into her neck before it broke. “The captain will be very interested in this.” He stepped back, and the door slid shut with a thud.
Solia clutched her bleeding throat, gaping at the door. Mittzi growled.
“It’s okay, Mittzi. It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. Cy-Ops procedure and protocols might be unfamiliar to her, but this was plain wrong. The crew member had stolen her amulet! She surveyed the tiny cabin, which contained a hard, narrow bunk without any bed covering and an exposed commode.
Not a cabin, a cell.
She rushed at the door, but it remained solidly shut. Clutching Mittzi, she ran her free hand over the door and wall for a release. There was no access screen. She banged on the panel. “Let me out! Help! Let me out!”
Nobody responded. Could they hear her through the solidness and the engine noise? Did I get on the wrong ship? This can’t be a Cyber Operations vessel. Except, Guy would have known if it wasn’t right. He’d pointed out the ship! Fear curdled in her stomach. Solia sank onto the bunk, hugged Mittzi. What am I going to do now?
Thirteen
Guy watched from the observation area as the Cy-Ops cruiser took Solia away. His whole body ached, but cyborgs didn’t cry.
Friends. We’ll always be friends. Grateful. Had he really uttered those words to her? From the moment he’d laid eyes on her slight, broken body in the Katnian jungle, their futures had been fused. There would never be another woman for him.
He waited until Cyber-4 disappeared before he stalked to his own ship. The sooner he could focus on work, the sooner he could begin to forget. Right. As if that would ever happen. He rushed through the preflight check and got the okay to leave. He’d cleared Cybermed airspace when Carter pinged.
Where’s Solia? the director asked.
On Cyber-4. The ship just left. Guy answered.
Fuck!
What? What’s wrong?
Quasar attacked and boarded Cyber-4 en route to Cybermed. They airlocked the crew. No. No. Guy had seen Cyber-4. Read the serial number. It had docked at Cybermed… Solia had boarded. What are you saying?
Quasar has Solia. I’ve dispatched a fleet to intercept the vessel. They have orders not to fire on the ship, but we can’t predict what Quasar will do.
Guy balled his fist, jerked back at the last second before he slammed it into his shuttle’s console. No cyber operative would give up the ship.
The crew members were civilian employees, not cyber operatives. Guy, it wasn’t a random hijacking. Cy-Ops intercepted a partial communiqué between Quasar cells. They wanted Solia, not the ship.
Why?
Because of her language ability. They had an informant on Faria and learned of her implant. Quasar’s sacrificial offerings have opened up an alliance with Katnia, but I suspect they want a more direct means of communication.
What does Quasar get out of it? How could this have happened?
A planet free of interference. No one will go near Katnia. Traffickers have a perfect place to hide hostages, and, if they rebel, they feed them to the Ka-Tȇ.
Bastards.
We’ll get Solia back.
I’ll get her back. How many crew members were lost?
Four. I have to notify next of kin.
Guy gritted his teeth. Ejected into space, the air-locked crew members had suffered a painful death. Quasar had no mercy. It was critical he get to Solia and get to her fast. He switched to manual, opened the throttle to full power.
Cy-Ops should have been a haven. Instead, Carter hadn’t even been able to get her there! However, he didn’t blame the director, but himself. Why hadn’t he boarded the ship, checked it out? Met the crew? He would have recognized something didn’t add up. Instead, he’d been focused on sending her away because he was the asshole who couldn’t admit to loving her.
Shoot me Cyber-4’s tracking signature, Guy communicated to Carter.
Wish I could. Quasar uploaded software to alter the trace.
So, we don’t know where they’re headed?
No.
Carter signed off, and Guy accessed his cyberbrain, hoping for a ping from the amulet. Nothing. Dammit. Come on, sweetheart. Activate the beacon. How long would it take before Solia realized something had gone wrong? Without a tracker, the ship could disappear into the vastness of space. Would the hijackers go to Katnia? Or hide out until the heat cooled? What would they do with Solia? I’m coming, sweetheart. I’m coming. Just tell me where you are.
A flashing message signaled a hail from Earth. Guy opened the line and kept his hands steady on the stick.
“Uncle Guy?” Jessamine appeared on the screen.
He loved his niece, but this was not a good time for a chat. “Hi, sweetie,” he said. “I’d love to talk to you, but I’m kind of in the middle of something really important.”
“Mommy said you might be busy, but I was wondering about Mittzi. You like her, don’t you?”
Mittzi was on the hijacked ship, too, but she was the least of his worries. “I like her. Right now she’s with a lady friend.” A sharp pang shot through him. Friend. If the unspeakable happened, that would be her last memory of him—he’d wanted to be her friend. “Is Mommy there?” he asked. “Let me speak to her.”
“I’m here.” His sister Jill appeared.
“I’m involved in a situation,” he said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t talk to Jess right now.”
“I’m sorry. I made the mistake of warning her you might not keep the kitten, and she got concerned. Take care, and we’ll talk later.”
“Thanks.” He closed the channel.
Jessamine had some timing. The cat. He shook his head.
The cat! He almost vaulted out of his seat. Guy accessed his cyberbrain. Yes! There it is. Right there.
Fourteen
Mittzi chased her tail, but the situation was too alarming for Solia to be amused. She’d been kidnapped by Quasar. Again. She’d remembered where she’d seen the tattoo—on her captors who’d delivered her to Katnia.
Were they taking her back there? Solia wrapped her wings around herself. I’ll die there. She would have the last time if Guy hadn’t rescued her. That kind of luck wouldn’t happen again. Guy assumed she was en route to Cy-Ops headquarters, and Quasar had taken the pendant she could have signaled him with.
Mittzi did a backflip and then raced around the tiny cell. “Mittzi, come here.” Solia scooped her up. “Settle down. I can’t think when you’re bouncing around.” The kitten had disliked the Surelian right from the start. I should have paid attention. Heartsick over Guy, she’d ignored the clues: Mittzi’s reaction, the Surelian’s rudeness, his disheveled attire. He wore a crewman’s uniform, but it was wrinkled and ill-fitting. She’d allowed him to push her into a cabin clearly not a passenger stateroom. The director of Cy-Ops would not have assigned her a cabin with a bare metal bunk! She was locked in the brig. Nearly all ships had them in case passengers overcome by space sickness went a little crazy and needed to be contained.
She’d fiddled with the necklace at the worst possible time. If not for that, the Surelian never would have noticed it. She hugged the kitten. “What are we going to do, Mittzi?” She scanned the cell. Everything was welded or bolted down. “Everything” encompassed two items: the cold, hard bunk upon which she sat—and the commode.
The berth came in one solid piece, the edge rolled into a lip around the perimeter to hold a mattress—which was not provided, leaving the bunk with all the comfort of a laboratory table. Solia shifted Mittzi off her lap and went to inspect the commode. The toilet came in two pieces: a single base unit and a metal seat. Did the latter come off? She lifted the seat, and it wiggled.
Dropping to her knees, she peered at the underside. Two bolts attached the seat to the unit. She wiggled the seat. If she could loosen the fasteners more… A toilet seat wasn’t the best weapon in the galaxy, but she had nothing else.
M
ittzi jumped off the berth to check things out. “If this works, we need to be ready to run,” she told her. “And, most of all, you need to be very quiet.”
“Meow?” the kitten said.
“That’s what I’m talking about. None of that.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh.”
Wiggling the toilet seat back and forth, she managed to loosen the nuts enough to unscrew them from the bolts then pull off the metal seat. It was quite heavy, but residual nano-temp bestowed her with strength she wouldn’t ordinarily have. She practiced her swing. She would aim for the head and keep hitting until the Surelian—or whoever opened the door—went down. Hopefully, only one person would come for her.
She’d never beaten anyone before—never so much as hit somebody—but she would not go back to Katnia. I’m fighting for my life. And Mittzi’s. If they kill me, they’ll kill poor little Mittzi, too.
Once they escaped the cell, they would hide. She and Mittzi would squeeze into a duct and hunker down. When she didn’t arrive at HQ, Carter would guess something had gone wrong, and Cy-Ops would search for the ship. He would contact Guy who would rescue them. “Guy will find us, Mittzi. Don’t worry.” He might want to be her friend, but he’d promised to protect her.
Clutching her makeshift weapon, Solia waited for someone to open the door.
Curled into a ball, Mittzi napped. Solia lost track of the number of times she’d thought she heard a noise and leaped up to position herself beside the door. Vigilance was hard to maintain when minutes bled into hours, but she couldn’t afford to let down her guard. Her life was at stake. At some point, she imagined a change in the engine’s growl, and she tensed, but nothing happened.
Finally, the door hummed. Heart in her throat, she sprang off the bunk. A shadow spilled inside the cell, and, with all her might, she swung the toilet seat.
Fifteen
Guy jerked his arm in time to avoid being brained by a commode. Pain ricocheted as a heavy metal seat—wielded by the woman he was trying to save—smashed into his forearm.