His expression was unreadable. “No. Why do you ask?”
“You’re a Colonel with the Security Forces. It’s within your authority to arrest me and keep me with you against my will, so I just want to know where we stand, that’s all.”
“No. You’re free to do as you please.” Nicoli looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he pressed his lips together and they fell into an awkward silence. When their food arrived, they ate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
“Angel,” Nicoli finally said when they were both nearly done with their meals. “I want you to know that I'm here for you – any time. You don't have to fight your battles alone ever again.”
She lifted her head, chin up and met his probing look. “Thanks, but I can take care of myself.” She laid her fork down and slid out of the chair before he could see the moisture in her eyes. No one had ever offered to protect her before. “I’m going to get another drink. You want one?”
“Angel, I--”
“How about a nice Martian ale? Or a Nova Zinger?” She didn’t wait for him to choose, but turned and walked to the bar. She needed a chance to collect herself.
“Two Martian ales,” Angel told the bartender. She watched him pour the drinks. “Place seems a little quiet tonight. Thought you’d have more ships at dock.”
“That’ll be fifty credits.”
Angel had retrieved her money from the closet earlier and now pulled it out. With deliberate movements, she placed one hundred credits on the counter. Before the bartender could pick it up, however, she laid her hand on top of it. “I need a ride out of here. Tonight.”
He narrowed his eyes and studied her, no doubt deciding whether or not she was serious. Or worth the effort. “It’ll cost you.”
She took another hundred credits and added it to the pile. “I’d be grateful.”
For a brief moment, they stared, each sizing up the other. Over the years, Angel had perfected her straight on, you-don’t-want-to-mess-with-me look. She didn’t have to wait long before the bartender nodded.
“There’s a ship leaving in an hour, docking station Alpha-Nine.”
Angel threw a quick glance over her shoulder at the group of rowdies. “That ship belong to them?”
“No. You don’t want to go with them. This is an old trading vessel. Take it and you might have half a chance of leaving here alive.”
Good enough for her. “Thanks.” She removed her hand, picked up the drinks and carried them back to the table.
“We need to talk.” Nicoli said after she sat down.
“About what?”
“About what happened earlier today.”
So much had happened earlier that day. Nicoli’s discovery that she was Michels, the episode in the airshaft, making love. Not love, she quickly amended. They’d had sex. That’s all it had been. There was nothing to talk about. “I have to go.”
“Where?” Concern etched his features.
“The D-U. I’ll be back.” Her gaze caressed his face, even as the lie fell from her lips, ripping at her heart. She couldn’t let him stop her.
His gaze roamed over her and she had the distinct impression he was memorizing her features. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” His velvety voice held a note of sadness. Already she missed him. How long would it take to forget him? Would she ever?
She stood to go, but his restraining hand stopped her before she could leave. “Be careful.”
She cocked her head to one side and faked a smile. “I’m only going to the D-U.”
“Yeah, I know.” His voice sounded emotionless.
She picked up her unfinished drink, downed the rest of its contents in a single swallow and set the glass back solidly on the table. With a last look, she turned and walked away. “Take care of yourself, Nicoli,” she whispered to herself, and almost didn’t hear Nicoli’s softly spoken parting words.
“Good bye, Angel.”
Knowing he watched her, Angel ducked into the D-U for females. She’d wait here a few minutes, then sneak into the kitchen and take the back exit. Outside, the sound of raucous behavior grew louder. That other ship’s crew had downed enough alcohol to float a free-trader. Angel decided to use the facilities while she waited and went into one of the stalls. The sound of the outer door opening was followed by several female voices.
“I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate those jerks,” the first woman said.
“Wish they’d reconsider the sex droids. I’ve been with these guys before, they like it rough."
“Did you see the one across the room, sitting by himself? He’s a looker.” A third voice spoke up.
“Yeah, for all the good it’ll do him.” It was the first woman again.
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you hear Mason’s crew talking? He’s some kind of Colonel with the USP security forces?”
“How do they know that?”
“They’ve run into him before.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, well, it’s good news for us.”
“How so?” The third woman asked.
“Because tonight instead of beating on us for their jollies, they’re going to beat the you-know-what out of the colonel.”
The women kept talking as they used the facilities, but Angel had stopped listening. Nicoli was in trouble. When she heard the other women leave, she left her stall. Absently, she shoved her hands under the Supercleanze mist, then shook them dry. Opening the bathroom door, she looked out. Nicoli still sat at the table, but his attention seemed to be focused on the glass he held, oblivious to any danger.
Mason’s crew, on the other hand, seemed wound to a fevered pitch. Twelve of them, at least. There was no way Nicoli could take all of them. Angel looked at her watch. If she stayed to help Nicoli, she’d miss her only shot off the space station.
Angel slipped out of the D-U and walked away.
Nicoli watched Angel slip into the kitchen. A part of him wanted her to stay, but that would have been a mistake. She was a distraction he didn’t need, an emotional entanglement that could prove too dangerous. Taking a deep sigh, he raised his glass and downed the contents.
He looked at his watch. The repairs on the ship should be complete. He tossed some credits onto the table and stood. There was nothing to keep him here now.
Leaving Flannigan’s, the corridors seemed especially bleak as he walked them alone. Absorbed in his thoughts of Angel, he almost didn’t hear the man behind him until too late. He turned just in time to keep the knife blade from piercing his back, and drove himself into his attacker.
The man was no match for Nicoli’s strength and experience, and Nicoli soon dispatched him. Then he turned and found himself facing the rest of the crew that had been sitting in Flannigan’s.
“If you want money, I’ll give it to you,” Nicoli said, realizing the futility of trying to fight all of them.
“It’s not about money, Colonel Romanof,” one of them spoke. “This is strictly personal.”
Well damn.
He was in for the long haul. “Then let's do this. I don't have all night.”
His cavalier attitude riled the other men, as it was intended to do. An emotional fighter was a careless fighter and Nicoli needed all the advantage he could get.
Before the next man could advance on him, Nicoli bent to retrieve the unconscious man’s knife. His opponents seemed content approaching him one-on-one, or perhaps it was that they were too drunk to consider rushing him. He met the first man without hesitation, killing him. The second and third men he merely knocked unconscious. Each fight cost Nicoli energy and strength and, belatedly, he realized this had been their strategy.
When the fourth man fell, the remaining crew members moved forward. Resigned to his own death, he vowed to take as many with him as he could, but before they reached him, two of the front men screamed and fell to the floor, dead. The others hesitated as wisps of smoke curled up from the bodies.
“And you thought I
was trouble,” Angel said, stepping forward to join him, her gaze never leaving the remaining men.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he growled, worried about how he could keep her safe when they were so outnumbered.
“Hi Angel, I’m glad you came back.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Or how about, thanks Angel, for saving my life. Again.”
“I’m not sure either of us will live through this,” he retorted. “At least before, I knew you were safe.”
At that moment, their attackers rushed forward, weapons drawn, fists flying. Angel fired, but couldn’t hit all of them.
Dispatching the man closest to him, Nicoli turned. One attacker, his hand clinched around something, had slipped behind them and now stood too close to Angel, who was busy with two other attackers. As the nearly transparent blade of the crystal knife arced through the air, Nicoli leaped forward.
The blade pierced his side, slowing him temporarily. As the attacker looked on, Nicoli pulled out the blade and thrust it into the man’s stomach, ripping upward as hard as he could. The man would not live to fight again.
Angel, having broken free of her two attackers, fired into the crowd. Two more fell dead while the other stumbled backward. Nicoli felt the first wave of nausea wash over him and knew he was losing too much blood. He had to get Angel to safety before he passed out.
“Let’s go,” he said, clapping a hand to his side. Together, he and Angel backed up.
“You’re hurt,” she observed, glancing at him. He knew he was covered in blood, but didn’t want to alarm her.
“It’s not serious,” he lied.
For every step back they took, their attackers moved forward. Yet, there was enough distance between them that as soon as he and Angel reached an intersecting corridor, they rounded the corner and ran.
The effort it took to maintain their pace quickly drained Nicoli of his remaining strength and his footsteps grew erratic. Darkness closed in around his vision, causing him to stumble. Angel grabbed his arm and draped it across her shoulders, holding it in place by taking hold of his hand. She holstered her laser, then wrapped the other arm about his waist, unaware that she grabbed his wounded side, sending pain lancing through him.
He leaned more heavily on her, forcing her to carry more of his weight. She was soon breathing fast and hard.
“Leave me,” he ordered, thinking only of her safety.
“Forget it.” Her words floated to him in a fog. “Just keep moving.” Angel released his hand long enough to slap the comm-link on her shirt. “Yanur, open the hatch. Hurry.”
They hit the docking bay at a pitiful run and reached the walkway leading to the hatch of the Icarus accompanied by the sounds of their pursuers’ footsteps close behind. Sparing a quick glance back, Nicoli was horrified to see that the closest man was directly behind them, his knife already raised for the blow.
Then suddenly, the man screamed and fell backwards as a black burn spot spread across his chest.
Turning, Nicoli saw Yanur standing in the open hatch, laser in hand.
“Hurry.” Yanur let fly with a few blasts over their heads into the oncoming group. Then he stood aside to let them board. “I’ve got it,” he shouted, slamming his fist on the button to secure the hatch. “Get us out of here.”
“Just hold on a little longer,” Angel pleaded as she lowered Nicoli into a passenger seat.
He waved his hand toward the pilot’s chair. “Go.”
She sat down and fired up the engines. It was unlikely that the men outside could breach the hatch door, but the sooner they left, the better.
“Delphi IV Cont...Icarus, requesting ...launch...” Angel’s voice faded in and out.
Nicoli felt the pull as Angel fed the forward thrusters and heard her short laugh a moment later.
“We made it,” was the last thing he heard before the darkness took him.
Chapter 15
Brother Joh’nan stood on one of the many balconies at the House of Scyphor and looked out over the landscape of his people’s new home. The first of Coronado’s two suns was just beginning its assent over the horizon, painting the sky in wispy shades of orange, red and purple. Memories from his host body recalled hundreds of similar such mornings, but for Brother Joh’nan, it remained a novel experience. One fraught with symbolism.
For decades, his people had suffered the results of their own curiosity, paying the price for careless experimentation and lack of foresight with their very future. When it seemed there would be no salvation, Brother Joh’nan had a revelation.
The answer had been in front of them the entire time, but their weakened mental faculties refused to grasp it. They had experimented on living bodies for years, taking organs from donors as needed to replace their own, thereby extending their lives. They had sold other donors and organs on the Black Market, to get the funding they needed for food and to continue their experiments. It had not occurred to them to inhabit a donor body, until almost too late.
Once the idea was presented, transferring the life essence of one of their own into a host body had been ridiculously simple. A further refinement of the transfer process made it possible for them to access the stored memories of the host body.
This, in turn, led Brother Joh’nan to the idea of taking over another planet, as well. Coronado, with its rich natural resources and cultural resistance to technology became the ideal location.
Following the selection of their new home, they began abducting key personnel from that planet, transferring the life essence of one of their own into the victim’s body and reintroducing them back into the world from which they were plucked. Tapping into the host body’s memories, the resident Harvester fit into his host’s life with seamless ease.
The ultimate goal to assume control of the planet would have been achieved more expediently had Brother Joh’nan simply taken over the High Counsel’s body, but the man was old and sick. So instead, Brother Joh’nan took the body of one of the High Counsel’s key advisors, one that was young and, presumably healthy.
He raised his left hand and tried unsuccessfully to make a fist. He hadn’t discovered the neurological disease slowly eating away at the donor’s muscles until after he’d transferred to the body and re-established himself. For now, he would stay in this body, but as soon as it was possible, he planned to transfer to another. This time, he vowed, the donor would be healthy.
A noise behind him signaled the presence of another.
“I assume you have news or you would not disturb me while I’m enjoying the suns rising.”
“Yes.” Brother Damon spoke from behind him, his voice laced with concern. “The last group of initiates failed to arrive as scheduled.”
“You contacted the Rebirth Colony?”
“No response. It’s like no one’s there. The little information I’ve gathered from the area trading vessels seem to point to a failure with the planetary computer system.”
Brother Joh’nan understood what he was being told. Without the computers, the main operating systems of the planet ceased to function. Without those, the little life remaining on their home planet would perish. In short, their planet was dead, as were all the family and friends who had remained behind.
He nodded, accepting the news. Such was the way of things. It would have been impossible to transfer everyone to the new planet, so those left behind would have died eventually as disease ate away their ability to function mentally and physically.
“And our plans to build a transfer center in the colony here on Coronado?”
“Proceeding as planned.”
Brother Joh’nan let out his breath in a relieved sigh. It was the end for some, but fortunately not for all of his people. Not the end for him. He returned his attention once more to the horizon.
It was the dawn of a new existence for his people.
Chapter 16
When they reached open space, Angel turned to check on Nicoli.
“Oh no.” She set the autopilot and rushed to his sl
umped form. Pressing her fingers to his neck, she felt for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak.
“Yanur!” Where had he disappeared to? He knew Nicoli was hurt.
“Come on Nic, hang on.” She ripped off one of her sleeves and held the wadded cloth against the wound in his side, which still oozed blood. She let the fingers of her free hand gently brush the side of his cheek. “Hang on, baby. You’ll be okay.”
His eyes fluttered open. “Where...?”
“Safe. Out in open space.”
“Hurt...you?”
“No. I’m fine.”
He tried to smile, but the effort seemed too great. “Good.” His eyes closed as his head fell forward.
“Nicoli!” She shouted, shaking him, afraid he’d died.
His eyes fluttered as he struggled to once again lift his head. His words were little more than a breath and Angel dropped her head close to his mouth to hear what he said. “Okay...to die.”
Angel felt the impact of his words like a blow to the gut. He had given up, accepted death. With a sick feeling, she realized he seemed to welcome it.
Well, it wasn’t okay with her.
“Yanur!” She looked around for the older man as she shouted, but still saw no sign of him. Damn. “Don't you die on me, Nicoli Romanof. You and I aren’t finished. That blade was meant for me. You had no right stepping in front of it.” Her tone was harsh with fear.
“You’re... welcome.”
“I didn't ask you to die for me.” She wiped furiously at her face, trying to dry tears that refused to stop falling. “Don’t die on me, Nicoli. Do you hear me? Nicoli? Don’t you die.”
“I think the people in the next quadrant heard you.” Yanur hurried onto the bridge carrying his black bag.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Yanur ignored her as he dug into his bag and removed a small device. Angel recognized the triage unit as he ran it a couple of inches above Nicoli.
“How bad?” Her voice was almost a whisper.
“Bad enough.” Yanur put the triage unit back in his bag and pulled out a long cylindrical tube. He opened a compartment on one side, then reached into his pocket to remove several small greenish crystals. Angel recognized the raw tyrillium. “But I have no intention of letting him die if I can prevent it.” He popped the crystals into the tube, shut the lid and checked the gauge. Seemingly satisfied, he pressed a switch and the tube began to emit a low humming noise.
Too Close to the Sun (The Sun 1) Page 17