The Ultimatum

by Susan Kearney

  With Alara, the experience had been different. While he could not place the blame on her for his discontent when she’d been quite clear that she’d accepted his attention for regeneration and regeneration only, he’d instinctively expected her to react afterward like a Rystani or a Terran—but she hadn’t. Obviously he brought expectations into this sexual encounter that he hadn’t anticipated—hadn’t even known were implanted in his psyche. But she’d been so hot in his arms just a few hours ago, he hadn’t figured that she’d return to acting like a stranger so quickly, as if they hadn’t shared their bodies.

  He tried to keep the discontent from his voice. “How do you live this way?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sharing sex for purely genetic reasons. With no feeling. No connection to the person in your bed.”

  “We didn’t exactly use a bed,” she quipped.

  He frowned. “You know what I mean.”

  She glanced down briefly, then leveled her gaze at him, striking him with her clear emerald eyes. “It’s the only way we know.”

  Her matter-of-fact answer speared him.

  The thought of repeating the experience no longer seemed like a lark, and he wondered if he would come to think of mating with her as a duty. “How long until . . .”

  “I need your services again?” She raised her brows, finishing his question. She sounded cold, composed, and careful, almost brittle. Yet when he searched her eyes and looked deeper, he saw regret, perhaps hurt, and a flash of irritation—with him or herself, he couldn’t be certain. “During our childbearing years, every other year female Endekians repeatedly go through Boktai, that’s our predictable biological cycle. But it makes sense to theorize that since the object of sex is procreation, if the species are different, hence making impregnation more difficult, then mating might be required more often. I believe the more alien the male, the more often regeneration may be necessary.”

  He’d thought that the more he satisfied her, the longer he’d made her wait, the more fully she’d regenerate. And the more time he’d have until she required his services again, the less she’d distract him from his mission. Apparently, he hadn’t taken all factors into consideration and had been very wrong. He glared at her. “Define ‘alien.’”

  “I can’t.” Frustration entered her tone, and irritation flashed in her eyes. “We have never been able to quantify the elements of Boktai. Certain pheromones play a role. As well as personal preferences. Perhaps there are issues at the cellular level that we have yet to discern. I don’t know enough about Rystani physiology to make a prediction.”

  “You’ve fully regenerated?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your psi is now back under your control?”

  She nodded, her eyes full of secrets. He gestured to her body. “Why haven’t you covered your nudity?”

  “You wish me to do so?” It was if she’d dropped a shield over her face and emotions, and he had no idea what she was thinking from her businesslike tone.

  He nodded. With a psi thought and no explanation for why she hadn’t done so sooner, she changed her suit to a pink blouse and dark gray slacks. He was about to ask another question when his com beeped, and he answered the summons. “Go ahead.”

  “Captain, we need you on the bridge.”

  After Xander had expressly asked not to be disturbed, Vax wouldn’t have used the com unless there was an emergency.

  Xander gestured Alara toward the shuttle’s hatch. “Dr. Calladar and I are on the way. Is there trouble with the Kwadii, again?”

  The last time the Verazen had been in this quadrant of hyperspace, the Kwadii had towed the ship to their homeworld with a powerful clutch beam. However, with Zical at the helm, the Verazen’s crew had prevailed, and since then, the Federation had established an uneasy truce with the Kwadii.

  “Captain,” Vax said through the com system. “We have an unidentified ship heading toward us off the starboard bow.”

  ALARA FOLLOWED Xander to the bridge, eager for a distraction. After he had seen her at her most vulnerable during Boktai, she knew Xander would never think of her the same way again. Reduced to mindless raw passion, she hadn’t been able to think or express how degrading she found her situation. Her blood pressure rose every time she considered that Xander was bound to remember her as brainless and perverse. It was bad enough with an Endekian male who understood the process, but a Rystani warrior likely couldn’t comprehend that her brain was back to working intelligently. Xander would always wonder if she was about to lose herself in Boktai, if she could be thinking clearly the rest of the time. No doubt, he’d never take anything she said seriously again.

  Recognizing the captain’s eagerness to put the experience behind him and join his fellow crew members, she tried not to blame him for not understanding. She ignored the hurt of rejection that came afterward. By the stars, she was used to feeling more alone when she was with a man than when she was by herself. Xander was not so different from Endekian men in all respects. She didn’t need him to spell out his feelings. What else could he feel but pure disgust?

  After forcing her nerves to settle, she used the opportunity on the bridge to take in the starship, very likely her new home for some time to come. The circular bridge rested atop the rest of the ship. Viewscreens set in the bendar hull and around the perimeter showed off the beauty of hyperspace in a 360-degree circle. Toward the bow, stars streaked toward them, seemed to split around the sides of the ship, then disappeared behind them in a spectacular display of what appeared to be bursting lights of ribbon streamers that lit the blackness of space. She saw no planets in the starscape. Perhaps they were too small or passed by too quickly, and the lack of anything familiar aroused her scientific curiosity.

  She’d seen holovids of space, but now she was here. It was awesome. The engines hummed, and the air seemed crisper. Space seemed so vast compared to their tiny group on the ship. Yet while the spectacular view was daunting, it also excited her. Out here, anything seemed possible.

  Once she looked into the forward right viewscreen, she understood why the second in command, Vax, had summoned Xander. Sharing their hyperstream, but coming at them from the opposite direction, a tubular ship tumbled toward them, spinning erratically sideways, as if totally out of control or piloted by a madman.

  Surely they weren’t about to crash? The odds of a collision in hyperspace had to be infinitesimal, with as little chance of occurrence as her having a real relationship with a man, Endekian or otherwise.

  Vax, another brawny Rystani warrior, with dark hair and amber eyes and an intense look on his handsome face, commanded his portion of the console with a competent air. Yet the moment the captain stepped onto the bridge, he changed position from the command console to another station.

  “Status, Vax?” Xander asked.

  “All ship’s systems are functional. Vidscreen is at maximum magnitude.”

  “Will we pass close enough to determine the ship’s planet of origin?”

  “It’s too soon to calculate. I’m monitoring.”

  “Captain?” A Terran woman at the communication console placed a headset over her ears.

  Alara had never met a Terran, but she looked harmless. The oldest member of the bridge crew, she hunched her gangly limbs over the console and frowned, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening. Alara found it difficult to hate the stranger on sight—even though she’d told Xander otherwise. She wasn’t so narrow-minded and prejudiced as to hate an individual for the actions of terrorists.

  “Yes, Shannon?” Xander said.

  “I’m picking up a message.”

  “Must be background noise.” Vax went over to her station. “We’re in hyperspace. Ship-to-ship communication isn’t possible.”

  “Just because it’s not possible for us,” the communications officer disagreed, “d
oesn’t mean other beings aren’t capable of hyperspace communication.”

  The computer broke in. “Captain, ship-to-ship communication is theoretically possible. It requires a powerful transmitter, one small enough to carry onboard.”

  Alara didn’t understand the science behind the discussion, but every schoolkid knew that hyperspace communications required a major power source. To communicate with their ships, Endekians had built a huge com base on their homeworld that drew power from their sun. Along popular trade routes, they’d built substations on asteroids and comets to boost additional power to their ships. Whatever technology was aboard that tumbling vessel had to be vastly superior to their own—and, therefore, should be considered dangerous.

  “Captain, it’s definitely a distress call.” Shannon boosted the signal and cut in the audio until a tinny voice, muffled by crackles, hisses, pops, and whistles could be heard by all.

  “Help. Assistance necessary. Help.” The message kept repeating.

  “Opinions?” Xander asked his crew, surprising Alara. An Endekian captain would consult only with his superiors. He would request orders to avoid making a decision where he could be held accountable for an error in judgment. Xander had done the opposite, asking his crew, a move an Endekian captain would consider weak.

  “Captain, the message could be a trap,” Vax suggested. “Last time we ran into another race in hyperspace, our mission was delayed. We almost died on their world. I suggest after we jump into real space, we report the ship to Mystique and let the Federation deal with the distress call. Our mission is too important to stop.”

  “I disagree.” The Terran shook her head.

  “Shannon, please explain,” Xander requested.

  “It’s a law of space to give aid in emergencies,” Shannon replied. The Terran’s attitude startled Alara. She’d hated Terrans for so long that hearing compassion come out of Shannon’s mouth shocked her into wondering if the race might have some good traits, after all.

  “You’re referring to the Federation’s unwritten law,” Vax clarified. “Ranth, any chance the ship belongs to the Federation?”

  “The technology is unfamiliar.”

  To Alara’s surprise, Shannon kept arguing. “Their message is clearly asking for assistance. Even if the Federation sends a rescue team immediately, by the time it arrives, they’ll likely be dead.”

  What startled Alara even more than the Terran’s compassion was that Vax seemed to take no offense that a subordinate disagreed with him in front of the captain. Was he so certain of his position that he had no fear that Shannon sought to usurp him in the captain’s eyes? Or did he not care? Or was this simply standard procedure? Alara didn’t know enough to judge but watched the interplay carefully.

  “Cyn.” Xander faced a green-skinned woman from the planet Scartar. “Is a hyperspace rescue possible?”

  “I’m not certain, Captain. We’ve never attempted one before. If I rig a Kwadii clutch beam, we might tug the vessel aboard. It’s small enough to fit.”

  “Do we have the specs and materials?” Vax asked.

  “The problem’s a lack of power.” Cyn was likely the engineer. “A rescue will drain our systems.”

  “Scan the alien vessel,” Xander ordered. “Does it have a power source we can modify and use?”

  Cyn concentrated on her vidscreen. “Our scanners can’t penetrate the hull. I’ve never seen material like that.”

  Ranth sounded impressed. “I’m detecting an incredibly efficient power source radiating outward from the hull.”

  “So why do they require help?” Xander asked.

  “They could have a malfunction in navigation or steering or in their jump drive,” Cyn suggested.

  “We could bring the ship aboard only to have it blow up,” Vax warned. “Or we might drain our power source in a rescue attempt only to discover that we can’t adapt the other ship’s power for our own use.”

  As Alara watched the crew work together, her admiration for Xander increased. She liked how he sanctioned independent thought, encouraged his people to analyze, and belittled no one. His connection with his crew reminded her more of her working relationship with her friend Maki than a structured hierarchy where everyone covered their back and tried to look good in front of their superior in the hopes of winning a promotion. Although she found the give-and-take odd, she also liked the freedom.

  She’d never imagined a crew could interact in such a manner and couldn’t understand why discipline didn’t break down with such chaos—yet each of them performed their jobs. The lack of animosity over the divergent viewpoints impressed her and attested to Xander’s leadership skills. That he actually possessed the self-confidence to allow free discussion upped her opinion of him as much as the care he’d taken during their mating. She should have been unsurprised that his crew responded as she had—with respect.

  So many times during her life, she’d had to hold her tongue to avoid calling attention to her nonconformist ideas. A female physiologist, one who specialized in genetics, was rare on Endeki, and her search for a “cure” to control or put an end to Boktai had been considered absurd. Her research had often been mocked by her peers, who likened her quest to searching for a reason to stop eating. The prevailing attitudes might have isolated her if she hadn’t built a good business and made many female friends. Her status and wealth had protected her, but aboard this vessel, she was very much alone and had unconsciously feared that the others would look down on her for her strange attitudes. But perhaps not. These people seemed more open-minded than Endekians.

  It was clear that Xander would make the final decision on whether to attempt a rescue of the alien vessel, and she wondered how he would choose. Unsure what she would do if the command decision were hers, she was glad she was a scientist and not a starship captain with the weight of saving the Federation from a plague on her shoulders.

  Yet he seemed to handle his responsibility and the burden of his mission with impressive ease. He was clearly determined to do his best, and she couldn’t help but see a certain nobility in him—even if he’d had to kidnap an enemy and work with her to succeed.

  Xander seemed to have no difficulty issuing orders. “Shannon, send out a signal and monitor to see if there’s a response. Vax, assign a security team to the shuttle bay in case we bring the alien ship aboard. Cyn, estimate how long it will take to assemble the clutch beam.”

  “Captain,” Shannon said, “I’ve hailed the alien ship, but there’s no response.”

  “Keep trying. Check all channels and frequencies.”

  Cyn stood and exited the bridge. “I’m heading down to engineering. When I have an estimated time of completion, I’ll let you know.” The green-skinned woman walked with a confident sway of her hips that emphasized her femininity. Under her breath she appeared to be singing, and no one else seemed to find that odd. When Alara caught her eye, she nodded a friendly greeting but didn’t miss a note.

  It seemed peculiar to Alara to be in the middle of all the decision-making and have nothing to do. While the others worked, she allowed her inner eye to focus on Xander and his crew. Alara’s special skill didn’t work like hearing or sight—she had to consciously turn on her vision and then, instead of faces, she saw DNA coding.

  She expected to see normal activity—healthy membranes, mitochondria organelles involved in cellular respiration. But around the cell nuclei of every crew member, she saw a haze that indicated DNA infection and breakdown, all in various stages of the disease. Xander’s sickness was the least advanced; the woman officer in charge of communications, Shannon, seemed the worst.

  Alara suspected the Terran had been the first to pick up the plague and had spread it to the crew. No doubt she already had it, too.

  Alara must have had an odd look on her face as she surveyed the damaged DNA, a breakdown unlike anything she’d
seen before, because Xander joined her and spoke quietly so as not to disturb the others.

  “Are you all right?”

  That he had made time to ask about her in the middle of a crisis astounded her, and that he could hone in so keenly on her mood made her wonder if they’d become more attached to each other during Boktai than she’d realized. Usually it took many sexual encounters to tune in to a specific partner. The genetics of Endekian females required that eventually, the tuning between male and female become so complete that only a chosen mate’s essence could regenerate his spouse. That’s why after the Terran terrorists had killed her father, her mother had died. That’s why Alara was careful not to regenerate too often with one mate.

  But if Xander was already reading her so well, that might mean his essence was particularly compatible with hers. Or that she was paranoid about dying the same painful way her mother had. Or perhaps Xander just needed a distraction—or he’d simply read her expression.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  During an emergency, she had no intention of revealing that his crew was infected. Nothing could be done, since they didn’t possess a cure. Turning back wasn’t an option, either. Not when it was quite likely that every crew member would be similarly infected.

  She shook her head. “Nothing that can’t wait. However, when you have a chance, we need to speak privately.”

  “Captain.” Cyn’s voice over the com interrupted their conversation. “I can modify our clutch beam within twenty minutes, but employing the Kwadii device will leave us with only enough power to maintain life support. There won’t be enough magtites left to jump out of hyperspace.”

  “Understood. Rig the beam and wait for my order.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Xander searched Alara’s face as if seeking clues to what had previously disturbed her. “If you’d like to settle into your quarters, Ranth will guide you.”