Broken Vision

by J. A. Clarke

  His tongue lashed at her, punished her, soothed her, built up an unbearable brew of pleasure, until she pleaded incoherently with him to stop. She didn't think she could achieve another release, but she was wrong. The combination of his fingers and his mouth sent her over the edge again.

  He gave her no time to catch her breath. Pulling the tunic down again, he turned her, searching for the fasteners. The technology was beyond his patience, because he ended up grasping the neck of her clothing and ripping it.

  "That was one of my favorites," she objected, as she tried to clamp down on hysterical laughter. She didn't care about the unremarkable beige garment, but she'd never tell him that.

  Alerik tossed the garment over his shoulder. "Huh. Borrow one of your mother's."

  "What? You don't like my taste in clothing?" She was finally naked and glorying in it.

  He shoved her into the tiny cleansing enclosure and pressed in behind her. "I like your mother's better." He hit the control panel and a deluge of water soaked them both.

  "Too gaudy." She sighed as his hands cupped her breasts.

  "Then borrow one of my mother's." He grunted as she cupped his heavy balls and rolled them in her fingers.

  "I thought we weren't going to talk about our parents anymore."

  "You're right. What was I thinking?"

  His mouth settled over hers again, and she leaned into him. All was right and as it should be in her world. For this moment, at least.

  * * * *

  A hand landed heavily on her bare bottom. Maegan's delicious, drowsy state was rudely shattered. She rolled over.

  "Stop doing that," she said into Alerik's grinning face. "And leave me alone. I'm tired and sore."

  "I can fix that." He began to slide down her body.

  "No." She grabbed his hair and pulled.

  "Yeouch." Surprisingly, he came back up again. "I'm hungry."

  "What do you want me to do about it?"

  "Since you ask..." He made to slide back down again.

  She tightened her grip on his hair.

  He winced, but stopped. "I checked. There's no food dispenser in here. What kind of passenger vessel doesn't have an in-room food dispenser?"

  "An older model, chartered with little notice because the council required you on Magnilium. You'll have to go to the mess hall." She yawned and stretched. "Bring me back something."

  "I'm the one who was just released from the med clinic. Shouldn't you be catering to my every whim?"

  She snuggled the cover around her shoulders. "Don't think so. This was your idea. You made me accompany you. You cheated by not telling me your memory had returned. You just wore me out with all that...ah...exercise. I have no whim-catering desire left in me. You're on your own."

  "Huh. That's what I remember--an uncooperative mate. My memory really is coming back. I also remember something else." He leaned over her, his face now a serious mask. "A conversation we need to have."

  It had been leading up to this all along. Her body responded with an adrenaline rush.

  He smoothed back the hair from her face with gentle hands. "Why?" was all he said.

  She knew what he asked, and she swallowed and tried to gather thoughts that had seemed so clear once, but were now elusive. "We have such different lives," she blurted. "I'm no good for you or your career. You must know that. It was hard enough when I thought you had feelings for me. When you lost your memory and looked at me with nothing in your eyes, I couldn't face that kind of future."

  "You're not a coward, my love. And our lives are not so very different. We work for a goal that is ultimately the same."

  "But you follow the dictates of a very rigid Coalition." She tried not to let his unexpected endearment distract her. "I take actions, that are often in direct opposition to the Coalition's mandates, to get results. You put me in lock-up for treason."

  He actually smiled. "There is that. Perhaps we should make you as legitimate as Morgon?"

  "What?"

  "Your uncle is not the rebel you think he is. He's a liberator under the auspices of the Coalition."

  "What does that mean?"

  "He goes where he wants and does what he needs to do, all in the service of the Coalition, but with direction from no one. He has a powerful, very unique responsibility. When he recruited you, he tried to get you classified in a similar capacity, but the council thought you were too inexperienced. They may have a different view now."

  "He's been legitimate all along?" The concept of the Council endorsing covert operations against any one of the nine nations was difficult to grasp. Then again, it was a political body. Why should she be so surprised?

  "Yes. He just couldn't tell you or anyone else. Even today, your father and mine don't know what he is."

  The implications were enormous. "The council did recognize the Taragon problem," she whispered.

  "Partially. Morgon had difficulty gaining collective acceptance. Not everyone was convinced of the extent of the problem and there was no consensus on how to defuse the situation. Some problems can't be dealt with openly. Taragon is a fractured nation. The solution is not clear, nor easy, nor fast."

  An image of the sha-priestess standing in her temple, arms lifted in triumph, filled Magean's head. "You'll never be safe as long as Nargune lives."

  "There's a universal bounty on her now. She has nowhere to hide. She'll be in custody soon enough. We--"

  Maegan gripped his forearms and dug in her nails. He had to understand. "We don't know how close she has to be to attack you as she did on the Pallas Five dock. Was she on the asteroid? Was she anywhere at all in the Belt? Why did she attack at that time? She wanted us to know she's alive. She's up to something, Alerik."

  "I know, and we're working on it," he said soothingly. "This attack reversed some of my memory loss. For Morgon as well. She may not have as much control of her powers as she thinks."

  "Or it was deliberate. You and Morgon are very important to her." Maegan closed her eyes and forced her thoughts back to the nightmare of the stark white temple with its obscene blood-red mottled columns.

  And then she remembered.

  "Blazing starpits!" She shoved him back and sat up. "She said she had four."

  "Four what?"

  "Four council members. She included you and Morgon. She has two others."

  Alerik frowned. "No one's missing."

  "There was no one else in that temple, I'm almost certain. They must be current sitting members."

  Her mate shook his head. "Hard to believe."

  "Why? Why is she choosing council members or men close to the council? Power, that's why." She poked him in the chest for emphasis. "You just told me Morgon has a very powerful position. She can get into your minds. What happens when she has you all together in the same place?"

  "Cor's blood!" Alerik rolled off the sleeping platform and began to pull on his clothes. "Have to talk with Morgon and Sharm. They're two cycles behind us in another vessel. The council has convened a meeting on Magnilium. You should know your uncle turned down the governorship of The Grogon Asteroid Belt to remain a liberator."

  "How do you know all this when you've been in the healing pod?" Frustrated by the feeling she was two steps behind, Maegan swung her legs to the floor and began to dress as well.

  "Daily briefings." He was almost dressed. She hurried to catch up for fear he would leave her behind. "My terms for going back into the pod."

  "Another thing I didn't know," she snapped, and turned her back to grab her tunic from where it somehow had become wrapped around a corner of the sleeping platform. She threw it down again when she saw the rip he had put in it earlier, and hurried to grab another from storage. "Do we have a marriage partnership or a good, old-fashioned, male-dominated Mariltar bonding?"

  In a heartbeat, a band of magnasteel clamped around her arm, and Alerik hauled her around and up against his body. His eyes and temple mark had turned a dark sapphire, a sure sign of strong emotion.

  "Make n
o mistake, we have a partnership," he said tightly. "Memories or not, this bond will never be dissolved. I will protect you with my life and love you with every fiber of my being. You will not know everything about me, as I likely will never know everything about you, but we will share all the important things. The briefings were not of significance when I knew I could fill you in. It was more critical for me to know if there was hope after your unilateral decision to end the partnership."

  He loved her?

  Heat and chills alternately wracked her body. Her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest. She softened against him. "I don't want to be protected," she said softly. "I want to walk beside you."

  "I know." His eyes lightened. "But leave me at least the illusion."

  "I don't want to end the marriage partnership either." She reached up to cup his face. "You're stuck with me. There will be times you'll regret it. And I will without a doubt stall your career."

  "My career is nothing without my bonded mate," he said, his mouth a breath away from hers. "And I will never regret for one nan my partnership with you." He brushed his lips across the tip of her nose. "Do you think, once in a while, I could be that old-fashioned dominating male?"

  She snickered. "Maybe."

  He settled his lips over hers, and in that simple, loving, all too-brief contact lay a thousand promises.

  "Let's go commandeer the captain's secure room to contact Morgon and Sharm. We need a strategy."

  Chapter 30

  Margaine Confluence

  Magnilium

  Magnilium was a fortress with a magnafield that served as a natural defense and required an experienced pilot vessel to escort visiting vessels through it. The city was built into the natural hollow spires resulting from ancient volcanic activity that pierced thick jungle, filled with odd little creatures.

  Maegan stood on the balcony of the habitat unit assigned to her and Alerik and, in the fading light, watched two kitlings squabble with each other in a large fan-shaped tree. Their large round ears, as big as their hairless, vermilion bodies, propelled them in short bursts of speed through the canopy.

  A warm breeze blew, bringing with it the various scents of cooking, the strong, distinctive perfume of the noliem blossoms that only opened at dusk, and a tangy unidentifiable smell.

  She shivered, although she wasn't cold at all. An odd feeling had been bothering her all day. Her nerves were as jittery as a sasscat's. There was no reason for it.

  Maybe that was the problem. Life on Magnilium was routine and predictable. The politicians met and debated policy. In her opinion, their mates, a fair number of them at least, spent too much of their time in meaningless, selfish activities. The Coalition Council was too isolated, too elite, too far removed from the concerns of the nations it supposedly served.

  Put the council on Treaine, she had argued with Alerik. Let them see how a true slice of the populations of the nine nations got along together. He disagreed, maintaining the isolation was necessary for clear, unbiased decision-making.

  Unbiased! She snorted as she thought about that argument.

  The kitlings stopped their squabbling and curled up together in a crook of the tree, their ears overlapping and blanketing them both. Just like Alerik and her. No matter how fiercely they argued, they always ended up in bed.

  "Now how..." A rough voice sounded in her ear as a hand landed on her bottom and smoothed over its curve. "...am I supposed to get through the evening, with you looking like this?"

  She smiled and pushed back against him. The evening, which was scheduled with one of her least favorite activities, might be salvageable after all. "I didn't hear you come in."

  "Came in, cleaned up and am now presentable. Or I was," Alerik added as she rubbed her bottom against his groin.

  "We can stay home?"

  "Nice try." He leaned over her, forcing her to bend forward, and placed his hands on either side of her on the balcony railing. "But we can't miss this one."

  "Are we going to be late then?" she said with feigned politeness. The ultra fine fabric of her evening gown was an illusion of protection against the hard ridge of him pressing against her.

  "Mmm." He ran his finger down her naked spine. "No." His hands skimmed down her sides and brushed against the sides of her breasts.

  "Then what are you doing?"

  "Just checking." He fondled her bottom.

  "For what?" She braced her hands beside his on the railing and renewed her wriggling, in hopes of changing the outcome of the evening.

  Her strategy earned a gentle slap on the bottom. "Let's get this over with."

  If Alerik had been close to succumbing, he was in full control by the time they walked onto the suspended platform that was their dinner venue. The platform was connected by a single archway to one of the hollow spires, and was surrounded on all its other sides by thick vegetation filled with tiny colored lights.

  The small group assembled comprised an assortment of politicos: a Merlon, a Liartian, two Bogasills and two Sorons. She quickly realized she was the only mate. "Why do I have to be here?" she muttered.

  "Because you were invited."

  "Why isn't anyone else's mate here?"

  "Behave. You know this is a working meal to discuss Taragon. You have knowledge no one else has."

  A soft chime announced another arrival. "He knows as much as I do." Maegan nudged Alerik as Morgon stepped through the archway. "And why is he here? I thought the strategy was to keep you separated?"

  "We've had several meetings together. The magnafield enhances the extraordinary security measures in place on Magnilium. The risk is acceptable."

  Morgon, on his way across the platform toward them, paused to greet the other guests.

  "Until your brains are fried again." Maegan's nerves were doing the jittery dance she so hated. She wanted the evening to be over.

  "Calm, my love. There's no threat here with the possible exception of Counselor Triak. If he ogles your chest again, I may have to do something about it. Come, our hostess is here."

  The group was making its way to the floating disks that bore the evening meal. A tall woman, dressed in a dazzling evening gown of amber spisilk stood to the side and greeted each guest.

  She seemed familiar, and yet she wasn't. She greeted Maegan with the same welcoming smile she had given the other guests. Only as Maegan looked into her eyes and took note of her bald head beneath a cap of shimmering beads did realization hit her.

  Their hostess was from Taragon.

  Her nerves went crazy.

  "We need to go home," she murmured desperately, as she and Alerik seated themselves. "I don't feel well."

  He covered her hand with his large, warm one and put his head close to hers. "You're profiling, Maegan. She's a counselor and has been since the council was formed. She's one of the strongest advocates for reform on Taragon."

  "There's something wrong here."

  "It's just a working meal. It will be over soon enough."

  Their hostess began with an introductory summary of the issues they were debating. Maegan listened with half an ear and tried to get Morgon's attention. The food in front of her had no appeal. She didn't think her stomach would hold it down, but when Alerik nudged her, she forced herself to put a small slice of tamboreen fruit in her mouth.

  The debate began. Morgon and Alerik were quickly immersed in the discussion and Morgon still hadn't picked up on her silent signals.

  The evening wore on and her nerves calmed. Alerik was right. There was no threat here. Even Counselor Triak had stopped looking at her chest as the discussion drew his attention.

  Maegan reached for another of the small, delicious canna cakes and froze as a peculiar light-headedness seized her. The platform fell abruptly silent.

  With great effort, she lifted her head to study the group. Everyone, including their hostess, seemed frozen in place. Mouths hung open; hands were stilled in mid-gesture or in the process of lifting food. Time had simply stopped. A nin
th dimension vid game was less bizarre.

  She turned to Alerik.

  His eyes held a terrible awareness. His gaze flicked beyond her.

  She sensed movement, a displacement of air with no sound.

  She turned. The movement seemed to take forever.

  "Maegan." The voice haunted her darkest nightmares. "You always were able to resist me when no one else could. I wish I could understand why, but there is no time."

  A woman sauntered toward their Taragon hostess and paused at her side. Their dress was identical. The shapes of the bald heads were a perfect match. The facial features were the same, set apart only by the stamp of time on the older woman. Their relationship was unmistakable.

  Everything and everyone else around Maegan faded into unimportance. Her entire being became intently focused on mother and daughter. Here was the reason for all her doubts, her jittery nerves, the foreboding that had stalked her to this time, this place. Odd, she felt no fear now, not even an adrenalin rush, just an eerily calm waiting watchfulness.

  "Mother." Nargune touched the hostess's shoulder. "Thank you for arranging this convenient gathering. I have everyone I need. You will see my best work here."

  Nargune had somehow immobilized the group, but her drug of choice had allowed everyone to retain a full awareness. The utter terror etched on the face of the older Taragon woman couldn't have been contrived. Her body strained and trembled as if with great effort. She rolled her gaze at her daughter, fear and frantic pleading in her expression.

  Beyond the greeting and single touch to her mother's shoulder, Nargune ignored her. She focused her full attention on Maegan. The smile that crossed her face threaten to paralyze Maegan with terrible, destructive memories. She fought desperately to hold them at bay.

  "But first...Maegan Shale, lifemate to Alerik Mariltar," the sha-priestess said, "you must die. You are a barrier between me and the power of the Mariltar men. Once I believed I could capitalize on the extraordinary link between you and your mate, but time is running out. It is simpler to destroy you."

  Maegan struggled to follow Nargune's conversational tone. Lethargy claimed her limbs and numbed her mind. Had her life been threatened? She couldn't seem to care.