by Alix Nichols
“No, I’m really serious, Jancel.” Her face was adorably determined. “I’d like to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why someone like me—someone who values freedom above all—why didn’t I mind you taking charge, dominating me?”
“Maybe you’re a different person in bed than when you’re out of it,” he offered.
“Hmm… I never felt this way with any other lover… But with you—in bed with you—I loved not being in charge.” She lowered her eyebrows. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you.”
“Please don’t say it’s a female thing.”
“I won’t. Lots of men feel the same way.”
She peered at him. “I doubt it.”
“While they do want to be in charge, there are times when they yearn to be dominated. Sometimes sexually, but more often in other ways.”
“I’ve never seen—”
“Why do you think so many young men choose a military career? If they fail the army interview for health or other reasons, they try for the police, the fire brigade, or a religious order. Why do you think that is?”
She blinked. “Patriotism? A love of fighting? Spiritual reasons?”
“No doubt.” He smiled. “But there’s an added motivation whether they’re conscious of it or not.”
She tilted her head to the side, pondering his words.
“It’s almost as if not being in charge for a while gives them another kind of freedom,” he said.
“What kind?”
“Freedom from responsibility and guilt.”
“Is that why you joined the army?” she asked.
“In hindsight, I’d say it was one of my reasons.”
“Do you still feel that way?”
“No.”
She raised her eyebrows. “No?”
“There’s no more hiding from responsibility for me.” He gave her a sad smile. “Or from guilt.”
Suddenly, all playfulness disappeared from her eyes.
His mentioning his guilt must’ve reminded her about Areg. He’d planned to give her the good news tomorrow. Tonight was supposed to be about lovemaking and only that. A bit of fun in his bleak life. Except… It was hard to keep information from her that would fill her heart with joy.
Scratch that, it was impossible.
And so, he told her.
She sat up, drew her knees to her chest, covered her mouth with her hand and listened. Her eyes were wide, and her face took on an expression of shock and incredulity. She didn’t utter a sound until he was done.
Not quite the reaction he had expected.
“I can’t… I’m too scared to believe any of it,” she finally muttered. “That Areg made it, that you’ve been hiding him all this time…” She shook her head. “It’s too much to wrap my mind around.”
“You’ll see him very soon,” Jancel said. “A friend of mine and I are figuring out a safe way to get you to Areg and back.”
She nodded once to show she understood. Then, her eyes filled up and she began to cry. She didn’t just cry. Nyssa wailed, her shoulders and her entire body shaking violently. He held her. She bit her forearm, grabbed her pillow, and pressed it to her mouth to muffle her sobs. When she stopped shaking, she looked like she was about to faint.
He poured her a glass of water.
She drank it, lay down on her back, and stared at the ceiling.
Someone tapped on the door. It was Mother’s knock. She must’ve heard Nyssa’s crying. The entire house must’ve heard it.
Jancel went to the door and opened it slightly.
“Was that Nyssa?” Mother asked. “Is she all right?”
“I told her about Areg.”
She nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“It’s a lot to process.”
“I can make her some tea, or kawa, or warm milk, or—”
He smiled. “Sleep is what she needs now.”
When Mother went back to her room, Jancel returned to the bed.
Nyssa lay on her side, curled into a ball, like a babe in a mother’s womb. Sleeping. She looked completely drained from the wild lovemaking and the emotional upheaval. But despite the visible fatigue, she looked young. Vulnerable.
It struck him that she was young and vulnerable, his fierce little kitten.
Climbing between the sheets, he scooted closer to her until his chest was touching her back. She didn’t draw away. He inched closer still, slipping an arm under her head and pulling her to his body. She let him.
He prayed she understood what he was trying to convey with that. Can you trust me to keep you safe? If Ultek or anyone else, wanted to harm her, they’d have to tackle him first.
He pulled her closer still, pressing his loin to her amazing derriere and ignoring his semi-erect member. She was tired, drowsy, and… relaxed. It was precious.
When her breathing deepened, he slid his hand over her hip and pressed his palm to her mound. She made no move to stop him. He curled his fingers to cup her more fully, and she responded with a happy, sleepy little sound.
There was a brief temptation to slip a finger into her warm channel, but he resisted. This wasn’t foreplay. This wasn’t carnal. This was about something else.
Something to do with his admittedly withered heart.
16
Colonel Keiron Yaggar accelerated down the corridor.
It was tempting to jog—or, better still, spread his wings and fly—the remaining distance to the auxiliary meeting room. But doing either of those things would be an unpardonable faux pas outside of the enforcer base.
Here at LORSS, packed with high-ranking officials and ambassadors, people perambulated even when in a hurry.
When Keiron reached the meeting room, Olinnie, Etana and Vetil were already there. Uncharacteristically, Misaha wasn’t.
Must be on leave.
The three stood by the viewport instead of sitting around the table, where papers and refreshments awaited them. Olinnie had, no doubt, delayed the official start of the meeting until he got here.
He gave her a warm look before greeting her more formally. “Your Grace.”
When everyone had brow-and-bowed to everyone, Olinnie motioned to the round table. “What’s the latest from the prison moon, Colonel?”
He had briefed her about the advancement of the intervention over the commlet three hours ago. But the enforcers had returned to the base since then, which was why he was late. He had some news. Good news.
“It’s over,” he said. “The administration regained full control, the riot was quashed, and the jailbreak averted.”
“What’s the final casualty count?”
“Six inmates and four guards the mutineers had killed before my men arrived.”
She peered at him. “No casualties among the enforcers?”
“None.” He smiled. “You’ll have my full report tonight but if any council member or ambassador asks, you can tell them this intervention was a cut-and-dried success.”
Keiron hadn’t been able to suppress the pride in his voice. Then again, he hadn’t really tried, either. He was too pleased for that. The moon where he’d sent twenty of his best cyborgs hosted the men’s prison with the highest security in the Homeland Arm. Most of the inmates there were serving life sentences for aggravated murder and rape. All had stood proper trial with a jury and advocates and were found guilty.
Stopping these guys from breaking free wasn’t simply about the triumph of justice. It was about preempting greater trouble down the road.
Keiron would bet most of the convicts would head straight to one of the clandestine modified cyborg facilities in the Baylian Arm or the Silver Path. There, they’d get wings and implants—or get them back if they’d been removed as part of their sentence—and join a Silver Path warlord’s private army. As if life in the most chaotic arm of Xereill wasn’t dicey enough already!
Keiron took a seat next to Etana and downed his glass of wa
ter. “How’s life, Tay?”
“Good, thank you, Colonel.” She smiled. “I’m treated really well here.”
Etana’s unspoken question—the only question she’d ever asked him over and over again—was palpable in her voice, in her puffy eyes, even in her tense posture.
“I’m afraid I have no news regarding Areg,” he said.
“Did you try pinging his commlet again?” She wrung her hands. “I keep trying, but his device is off.”
“I try at least once a day.”
Not to mention all the written messages he’d sent over the last month. All in vain.
A week ago, Vetil had reported to Olinnie that Etana made no headway in her training due to extreme anxiety that was robbing her of sleep and of indispensable clarity of mind. She wasn’t just failing to tame and grow her gift. The woman was wasting away.
Lovesickness did that to people.
Olinnie had taken pity on her and offered help. She used her gift of aura reading to “look for” Etana’s boyfriend. On her fifth attempt, she found him injured and unconscious somewhere underground—but still breathing.
Etana’s distress didn’t go away. It got worse.
Despite all of Vetil’s eloquence when he tried to impress on her how much the galaxy needed her gift, which could potentially save thousands of lives, Etana couldn’t focus.
“May I go back to Hente?” she asked, looking from Olinnie to Vetil to Keiron. “I can’t be here when Areg… I need to find him, look after him, nurse him back to health.”
“Going back would be a suicide,” Vetil said.
Keiron nodded in agreement.
Olinnie gave Etana an apologetic look. “I can’t give you a location. Areg could be anywhere on Hente.”
To her dismay, Olinnie’s gift didn’t come with geolocation or the ability to communicate with the people she sensed. That was why she hadn’t listed it on her official resume. Not because she wished to keep it secret as with her appearance shifting ability, but because she considered it useless.
Etana shifted in her chair and leaned forward. “I’ll search high and low. I’ll find him.”
“Hente’s Habitable Area is small,” Vetil said, “but it’s still big enough. Assuming he is in the Habitable Area.”
Etana turned away, her shoulders sagging.
Olinnie and Vetil exchanged a defeated glance.
Keiron’s heart went out to the woman. But he could see how her inability to make progress made last month’s covert intervention even more of a failure than it already was. It robbed Unie’s sacrifice and her boyfriend’s heartbreak of meaning.
Just when Keiron felt like they’d hit a brick wall, his commlet pinged. It was Areg’s number. With hands shaking, he answered the call.
“Colonel?” Areg’s voice was weak and hoarse, but it was definitely his.
Keiron hit the speaker. “Are you all right? Etana is here—”
“Thank Aheya! Can I talk to her? I can’t stay out here too long, and my commlet’s on its last legs, so—”
“Hold on.”
He pressed the private speaker and passed his commlet to Etana, pointing to the farthest corner of the room. “Go there if you want some privacy.”
She grabbed the device, ran to the corner, and sank to the floor.
For the next ten minutes, Keiron, Olinnie, and Vetil discussed the upcoming enforcer intervention. A team of six was to escort Olinnie on a diplomatic mission to negotiate between two trigger-happy Baylian rulers on the brink of war.
Keiron announced he’d be part of the escort.
As expected, Olinnie said it wasn’t necessary. She’d been on several diplomatic visits already, and her usual security detail plus six additional enforcers was more protection than she needed.
Keiron said this wasn’t a visit. It was a mission, a delicate one at that. Arching an eyebrow, he pointed out that authorizing missions might be her prerogative but deciding the composition of enforcer teams was his. And he’d determined he should be there to ensure the safety of the superintendent on her first diplomatic mission.
All the while, Etana talked to Areg in the corner, her voice hushed but brimming with excitement.
Suddenly, she stood, marched to the table, and handed Keiron his device. “Areg’s commlet died.”
“What did he tell you?” Olinnie asked.
“He’s tucked away in an abandoned bunker in the Central District with people helping him.” She paused, her smile fading. “His legs… his legs had to be amputated.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Olinnie and Vetil said in chorus.
“Who’s helping him?” Keiron asked.
Etana fingered her ouroboros. “You’ll have to ask Areg next time he reaches out.”
Keiron’s brows shot up.
“I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Etana said. “He can’t risk compromising their safety.”
Of course. Who could expect anything less of Areg Sebi?
“Will you get him to LORSS now that we can communicate?” Etana’s eyes teared up. “Please, I’m begging you! He won’t last long, broken, in a hole… even with help.”
“I can’t authorize another intervention in Eia,” Olinnie said softly.
Keiron stared at his commlet, thinking fast. “You may not need to, Your Grace.”
“Colonel?” She tilted her head to the side.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” He marched into the hallway and pinged Timm Itkis.
His informant answered immediately.
“I have an assignment for you,” Keiron said.
Timm chuckled. “A job would be a better word. I’m not one of your enforcers, Colonel.”
“Fine, a job then.”
“Can it wait?” Timm asked. “I’m too busy for the next three or four weeks.”
What choice did Keiron have? “Fine. But no longer than four weeks.”
“What’s the job?”
He explained what he wanted Timm to do.
“Are you serious?”
“You’re a cyborg,” Keiron said. “It’s time to use your wings.”
“They’re too rusty.”
“I’m sure they’re fine.”
“I hate flying.”
Keiron sighed. “Why would anyone hate flying?”
“Well, I guess I’m the only cyborg who’d rather walk than fly.”
“I need you to do this, Timm,” Keiron said. “Just this once.”
“I’m afraid—”
“You’ll be paid your triple rate.”
There was a pause. “You expect me to carry him all the way up to your transport. He’s a big guy, Colonel.”
“And you’re a born bionic for Aheya’s sake!” Keiron snapped. “What’s the point in having all that superior strength and faculties if you never use them?”
There was another pause.
“When you take off, I’ll get my private transport as close as possible to the atmosphere, so I can meet you halfway,” Keiron offered.
“I’ll need two space suits and a good booster, obviously.”
Thank Aheya! He was in.
“Don’t you own a space suit?” Keiron asked hoping he wasn’t letting on how relieved he was. “The one you used when I picked you up last time—and saved your ass?”
“I do.” Timm hesitated. “But I’m renting it out at the moment.”
Keiron chose not to ask any more questions. As head of the LOR Enforcer Corps, the use of spare space suits was within his purview.
“You’ll have a booster and two suits,” Keiron said.
“Make it four suits.”
Four? Now he was pushing it.
Space suits were highly sophisticated, costly items, and even Keiron didn’t have an unlimited supply of them at his disposal.
“There’ll be just two of you,” he said. “Why in Xereill do you need four space suits?”
“For a noble and hopefully lucrative business venture,” Timm said mysteriously. “Consider it p
art of my reward.”
Keiron sighed. “You’ll have them with your next shipment. If you need something else for this job—something that doesn’t cost a million drinars—let me know.”
“I’ll send you a list.”
Of course, he would. “Oh, before I forget, there’s something you need to know. Areg might not want to go with you.”
“Huh? Doesn’t he want to live?”
“He does.”
“Doesn’t he want to see his sweetheart again?”
“I’m sure he does, but he’s… he’s too much of a hero.”
“What do you mean?”
“Unlike you, he always puts others’ needs before his own,” Keiron said. “He might choose to stay because his realm needs him.”
“And how am I supposed to handle that?”
“Use your superior persuasion skills. Yaggar, over,” Keiron said and hung up.
Returning to the meeting room, he announced he’d put a plan in motion. Success was far from guaranteed, but there was hope.
Olinnie quirked a brow but didn’t inquire further.
Etana jumped to her feet. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
He could tell she would’ve hugged him if they were in a less formal context.
She turned to Vetil. “I’ll train day and night, sir, work harder, keep trying.”
“You do that.”
“Next time I fail, I won’t give up.” She gazed into her boss’s eyes. “I’ll analyze why it happened, learn new things, and try again. Failure won’t deter me anymore.”
She turned to Olinnie. “I’ll tame my gift, Your Grace, or I’ll die trying.”
17
Jancel and Iyatt devised a way to get Nyssa to the bunker via a circuitous route and a disguise.
Dressed as a servant, complete with a tight little bonnet, she’d taken a coach to the nearest market. After a good hour haggling and filling her basket with greens and berries, she’d headed into the woods.
Iyatt, who’d been shadowing her from a distance, caught up with her there and led her to the bunker.
Jancel hadn’t been present at the siblings’ reunion, but according to Iyatt, it had been heartwarming and sweet.
After that first meeting, she’d been to see him once more, before Jancel refused to allow more visits. He was too worried she’d get caught. That sent Nyssa through the roof.