Shardae’s knuckles ached from her death grip on her pad. She glowered at Yu, who gulped as she took a step back from the now parted lift doors.
“I’ll, I’ll just go back to my station now, ma’am,” she whispered, hovering from one foot to the other, waiting for Shardae’s permission.
“Fine,” Shardae snapped.
The doors hushed closed, but Shardae couldn’t hear them. The roaring of blood in her ears drowned out all other sounds. She didn’t have time for this nonsense. Any minute now she was to report to the cargo section to accept the prisoners from JC Snow.
The laundry’s big, partially open metallic doors came into view. Urgency coiled around her like a vice, squeezing her patience. Shoving her hand, arm, and then torso through the space, Shardae succeeded in parting the doors fully. Every alarm in her body rang out.
The low-ceiled room spread out in a series of washers and dryers. Mounds of clothes covered large chunks of floor. Thick ivory foam filled several washers along the back wall. Across the rows, dryers hissed. Beneath the cleaning aromas, a sour metallic smell permeated like a fungus growing on the underbelly of a beautiful, smooth rock.
In front of her, Zander moved in swift, athletic movements that left a crushed-looking, sanguine-faced O’Leery on the tiled floor, bleeding from his nose. Private Juan Yazzie breathed in raspy gulps. He clasped his left arm to him.
So fast, Zander had put one of her security personnel flat on his ass.
“Explain. This. Now,” she ordered, slightly surprised at how controlled she sounded. The thin crowd of IGO soldiers scattered except for the three guilty men in front of her. Her two soldiers stood awkwardly on either side of Zander. She pinned O’Leery with a glare that revealed the anger tearing through her. He broke eye contact, a sure sign he hid something. His protuberant lips in a tight line spoke of pain, hatred, or both. She shifted her burning gaze to each guilty man. “Don’t make me say it twice.”
Only Zander met her fury. His self-satisfied face broke into a smirk. “Yes, ma’am! Private O’Leery and Private Yazzie were showing me the laundry station,” Zander explained, voice clear, loud. “They were in the middle of explaining the recycled water filtration system, ma’am.”
She seethed, clenching her teeth to bite back the swear words pushing against her throat. “Do I look like a fool, Pilot Reyes?”
“No, ma’am,” he replied, his voice soft. “Not at all.”
Oh, no, he didn’t pull out his dewy voice on me. In a clipped cold tone, Shardae said, “How did O’Leery’s nose end up like a smashed tomato? Private Yazzie’s arm, a broken tree limb?”
“He fell.” Zander’s smirk broadened.
“Pilot Reyes, now I’m down a man on my security team for a very sensitive situation because of you,” she said bitterly. “This isn’t some game. This isn’t Omega’s diplomatic missions. We’re about security, to protect not only this crew, but The Discovery, and… forget it! Obviously, you’ve missed some important lesson about duty and responsibility.”
He sobered as exasperation escaped her control. “I’ll take his place, ma’am,” Zander volunteered.
“Oh no, not him, ma’am,” O’Leery said. “No.”
“What?” She balked before she could stop herself. “No?”
Yazzie’s fresh outburst of complaining ebbed.
She sighed, but one look at Yazzie’s arm told her she couldn’t keep the pilot off security detail now. A quick sidelong glance at O’Leery told her he’d be begging for another bout with Zander. He’d bleat to the others about how Zander hadn’t fought fair. A painful mixture of emotions skated across O’Leery’s face. “O’Leery, you’re just as guilty for this debacle as he is. I trusted you to show him how to do the laundry, not test his mettle.”
“Sergeant Simmons.” Commander Ashe’s deep husk poured through her comm. “Snow contacted. He’s on the way with the packages.”
“Be right there, ma’am,” Shardae responded, voice hard. “Cargo Bay One.”
“See you there,” the commander answered.
Zander grinned at her.
“You two get to medical,” Shardae ordered, anger highlighting every word. “Reyes, you’re with me.”
Despite her rage at the situation, she did like the sound of it.
Chapter 5
Zander didn’t like the way Shardae’s dark brown eyes speared his emotional center. Too much and far too strong for something so new. Still, his heart leapt at her agreement to put him on her security team.
To be perfectly honest, security hadn’t been his strong suit, but he liked being near her. The sergeant had spunk, a quiet fearlessness that he found attractive. A sharp ache turned his stomach when she stormed off disgusted, but really he liked her feisty. He shouldn’t have cared what the feisty woman thought. But he did. Even when his mind denied it, his body betrayed him. The fine hair on his arms tingled when she came near.
Following her wide, angry steps toward the turbo lift, he knew he’d pushed her too hard. Explaining to her would’ve sounded like whining. He didn’t want to tattle. Besides, he’d handled it. O’Leery had come at him the very second he arrived in the laundry room. It hadn’t taken long until the situation had dissolved in fighting. The captain’s son had to be tried. He’d had to defend himself before.
Obviously, Sergeant Simmons didn’t like being assigned to supervise him. The arrangement didn’t fit him either, but orders had to be followed. If nothing else, he’d learned this from his dear old dad.
Once in the hushed quiet of the turbo lift, Shardae spun to face him. “When we get to the cargo bay, not a word leaks out of you unless the commander addresses you. Just follow my orders. Got it?”
“Yes,” he breathed, biting back the tart reply on his lips, “ma’am.”
She didn’t acknowledge she’d heard him. She put her back to him, clearly still fuming. Fine. He let his eyes trail over her curves, a set so seductive his hands itched to touch her.
Barking orders to the lift’s A.I., the good sergeant seemed very stressed. He understood the severity of the situation.
“What’s in the cargo bay?” he asked, deciding to annoy her anyway. Any attention she gave him was another chance to get under her skin. He wanted to be under her in more ways than one.
“Can you really be that self-absorbed?” she snapped, eyes wide, cheeks high-colored beneath her mocha skin. “The transport of Yu Lee, Javier Rojas, and Daniel Brock is today! Now to be exact! The entire crew is on yellow alert! You don’t have a clue!”
“Oh, right,” he said, feeling more than idiotic. Everyone knew about the prisoner transfer. The commander had told him as much, but he’d been struck by Sergeant Simmons. “Forgive my ignorance, ma’am, but I just boarded the craft this morning, so, I’ve not been fully briefed.” He clamped his mouth shut.
Sergeant Simmons had her stunner pointed right at his nose. The scarlet triangle at its tip glowed, meaning it had full power. She’d spun so swiftly, he didn’t get a full breath.
“I’m so not hearing your sorry ass excuses.” A cold calm oozed from her.
Although he probably should’ve been scared, he wasn’t. Aroused. Gods, she was sexy! She leaned in close, the stunner a bridge between his face and hers.
“You report to me,” she said. “If you ever raise your voice to me again, you won’t hear your own voice again -- except on audio files. Got it?” She lowered the stunner to his throat.
“Yes, ma’am. Please accept my apology.”
With quick speed, she retracted the stunner. “Accepted,” she said brightly and gave him a cheerless grin. “Remember, just wait by the lift.”
“Cargo Bay One,” the A.I. announced. The doors parted, putting an end to the thick cord of tension between them.
“There’s no time to brief you on the plan, so just stay by the lift’s doors.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. He liked her -- a lot. Most women caved to him because of either his father or his good looks. But not her.
Simmons marched out first, like a leader. Fine. He liked the view from the rear.
In the stuffy cargo bay, all kinds of items littered the huge space. Clearly an effort had been made to establish a pathway from the doors to the lifts.
Commander Ashe’s rigid body pivoted to look in their direction. “JC Snow, you know Sergeant Simmons, our chief of security.” The commander’s eyes drifted over to Zander’s face, but the tiny flash of a frown vanished before he’d even been sure he saw it.
Security personnel lined the hallway. JC Snow stood out prominent in the group. The harsh scar under his eye reminded Zander of his father’s ravaged face, but it went further than just the eyes. Snow had that commanding presence that demanded all paid attention. Zander pressed his lips tight. Snow would be the type his father would love, adore, be proud of. Zander met the junior commander’s eyes. Snow didn’t smile.
Snow and Ashe exchanged pleasantries, but Zander tuned it out. He put his attention on more productive matters. The prisoners stumbled beneath the weight of their heavy arm restraints. Yu Lee glared at the sea of faces. Whatever Snow had done to Lee had scarred up the man’s face. Those scarlet abrasions were fresh.
A shout of laughter conjured a burst of stunners -- all pointed at the source, Lee.
“Nice reflexes, maggots!” Lee’s voice echoed a bit, making it seemed more alive -- sinister. “But not good enough.”
“Stand down.” A knot of soldiers fell away, unraveled by the sergeant’s fury. Her face hot, she pressed her lips together to halt the tornado of reprimands she no doubt wanted to spew.
Lee’s harsh laughter met his ears like jagged splinters of glass. Zander made himself stay calm. He didn’t even have a stunner yet, but he really wanted to punch the smirk off Lee’s face.
“Kill the terror tactics,” JC Snow ordered.
Lee simply kept the sneer lingering around his mouth. Zander didn’t like it. Yu Lee had no fear. Caution, yes. Fear, no. The man had a plan. He had to be watched, closely. Some of the soldiers took Lee’s antics as bravado, but Zander knew better.
Lee had just tested security’s reflexes. Hell, even he could smell the acidic sweat of nervousness in the craft’s bay. If he could, Lee could. People like Lee fed on fear, grew larger than life on it and bred hysteria with it, until he became the last one standing.
Zander looked at Simmons. She’d better be damn good with a stunner.
Sergeant Simmons said, “JC Snow, I hereby relieve you of prisoners Rojas, Lee and Brock.”
Snow snapped to attention with rigid, well-practiced precision. “Per IGO Prisoner Regulations, I hereby transfer prisoners to your charge.”
“Crewmen Williams, Gray and Gonzales,” Sergeant Simmons ordered. “Take the prisoners to their cells. Single file formation.”
All around Zander soldiers flew into action. The entire convoy lurched forward to the turbo lifts. It was through this flurry of ebony-clad suits that Lee spied him. Something unusual in the crowd, Zander guessed. Wonderful. Just what I don’t need. Attention.
“Ah, is that you, young Reyes?” He grinned coldly. “Funny seeing you here, onboard a craft filled with such temptation. Maverick with a lot of mindless morons. Interesting.”
All eyes went to Zander. He held his tongue, but met Lee’s gaze. Throughout the last twenty minutes, surprise at seeing him had been Lee’s only true, authentic emotion. The other stuff he’d done was for show and info gathering.
“Avoiding the Investigative Inquiry Units should be your concern,” Simmons said to Lee. “Get the prisoners down to the brig! Now!”
Zander stayed by the lift and kept quiet, but the tightening of his fists caused his nails to bite into his palms. A bunch of talking went on, but all of it was off comms. He continued to search the sea of unfamiliar faces trying to read them. Seeing the way some of the men openly jeered their hatred for women in authority annoyed Zander. Simmons didn’t deserve that. If they hated her, how could they protect her? Which of them could she trust -- if any?
Over time, Zander had become real good at reading people. He’d been shuffled around so often the skill came out of necessity. He knew Yazzie and O’Leery would try his patience. Just like he knew Sergeant Simmons would be trouble for him. And how he knew -- without any real reason -- that Lee would be disastrous for The Explorer.
“Thank you, JC Snow.” Commander Ashe exchanged a firm handshake with the stern-looking junior commander. “Sergeant Simmons will take it from here.”
Sergeant Simmons saluted Snow and, turning in Zander’s direction, she seemed visibly more relaxed. She smiled. The lines of worry were gone.
Zander turned his attention to the delight that was Sergeant Simmons. Like a flower in bloom, the gorgeous sergeant had unfurled. All the balled up angst she projected before had been released.
“Thank you, Reyes,” she said, sweeping into the lift with him in tow. “Now, tonight you’ll still report to the bridge. Watch the evening pilot work. After that, get some shuteye. Then you have security duties too. I’ll forward the orders to you.”
Zander watched her talk, pointing to routes on her computer pad, but all he could really think about was how stunning her eyes were when she worked. Excitement sparked in them. Yeah. A real bad time to be on The Explorer.
Chapter 6
The sleek, metallic doors to Shardae’s quarters glided back. Once they closed softly behind her, she slumped, dropping her computerized pad onto the sofa with a muffled thud. She coaxed the hair tie from her ponytail. Her hair once released rushed to her shoulders.
She blew out a soft, brief stream of stress. All the taut, binding springs around her mind relaxed their hold -- albeit temporarily. Breathing came easier now that all the prisoners had been secured in their holding cells without so much as a hitch. She’d put some space between herself and Zander, too, sending him packing to fulfill his original orders. He’d have to do double duty. The smug bastard had grinned at her. He’d acted like it didn’t even bother him that she’d consumed nearly sixteen hours of a twenty-four hour day.
“A.I.: room décor, Aspen winter,” she said.
The two-room cabin’s walls produced holographic, blinding ivory, crisp snow. Trees grew out of corners. Pure, nearly pristine snow blanketed evergreens, firs and pines that dotted the scene. The strong odor of cold nature scented the air -- piped in by hidden olfactory streams. What Shardae liked the most was the amazing quiet. Except for the occasional bird call or the scuttling of animals, this wintry décor program had no other sounds. Sometimes when she called up the program, snow would fall like rain in big, wet flakes. Even the air cooled inside her rooms.
She’d never seen real snow. Her life, like almost everyone else in the IGO, began on a spaceship. For her it was a vessel called The Atlantis. Born to IGO parents, Shardae grew up living on big spaceships and smaller spacecrafts that docked in the large spaceships. She hopped between worlds, outposts, occasionally Earth Prime -- but never in winter.
Right now all she wanted was to be able to sleep.
She went directly to her bedchamber. One twin-size memory-foam bed half-filled the room. The scattered cover silently confessed her tortured sleep. Her rectangular media center, complete with three embedded panels for simulated holographic programs, IGO databases and entertainment sat centered beneath a flat screen.
She plopped down on the bed and loosened the laces on her boots. They clunked to the foam padded floor. Next, she snatched off her socks. Pressing the scarlet button on her earpiece, she turned off her comm and put it on the ledge beside her bed. A few minutes peace, that was all she needed. Her eyes closed, but the burning itch of fatigue remained. How long had it been since she’d slept for more than a few hours at a time? She couldn’t remember. Not since orders for Lee’s transport came in.
Despite how bone tired she was, how every muscle complained in furious pulsating spasms, she couldn’t drift off to sleep. The reason? Her horny mind didn’t give a damn about her exhausted body.
; Most evenings she collapsed in fatigue, often fully clothed, into the waiting arms of slumber. Today, remnants of adrenaline fired her body, forcing her to remain awake.
The other jolt of keep-me-up: Zander.
At the mere mental mention of his name, Zander’s handsome face floated forward, taking up residence on her shut eyes’ canvas. Despite her exhaustion, she could smell his hair, recall the glorious feel of his hands, soft-palmed like most pilots, when it covered her right one.
She sighed and unzipped her uniform jacket. Shrugging out of it, Shardae let it fall to the floor beside her boots and socks. She wanted to leave her stress right there, but she couldn’t get rid of it. The need for control held her, stayed her hand.
Dressed in her ebony tank top and uni-bottoms, she scooted forward. In a heavy voice, she said, “A.I.: holoplay, Simmons.”
“Selection choice?” the A.I. inquired, after identifying Shardae’s voiceprint.
“Commence SimPlay4Keeps.”
Shardae stood and unzipped her uni-bottoms. Stepping out of them, she sighed in relief. Each article seemed to be a boulder she let fall, bouncing from the mountain of responsibility weighing on her being. Save for one.
Shardae moved to the partially concealed media console. Displays flashed as she sped through the options. Having accessed the IGO personnel database, she called up Zander Reyes’s IGO profile. Slanted sharp green eyes peered from the JPEG. Swept from his face, his luscious strands had been cinched high on the back of his head. Pronounced cheekbones became more prominent. She dragged the handsome pilot’s features across to her hologram program.
“Use these features for the male,” she said. “Commence.”
While the A.I. assembled her new male fantasy counterpart, she squatted down to the drawers beneath the screen. She pressed her fingers to one of the three illuminated boxes. The drawer ejected from the embedded shelf. Shardae guided a slippery, jelly-like substance out of its protective sleeve. Shaped in thick, phallic form, the jelly substance hardened into a solid tool -- a tool for pure wickedness. It glided through her hand -- thick, with a trio of ribbed circles near the tip. The smooth head always parted her nether lips with ease, but the trio of little ribbing stroked sensations that bolted through her, multiplying with each plunge into her wet heat.
IGO 2: Save for Shardae Page 3