by Lyn Brittan
A large, calloused hand tugged and she followed, crying out as a glass of something sticky landed on her chest. She didn’t stop though. Couldn’t. She had a future to protect. They ran to the lift, but the line was long of panicked screamers waiting to get in.
“Stairs,” he shouted.
Countless steps and flights separated them from the safety of the ground floor, but the heady mixture of alcohol, adrenaline and adventure had her legs pumping the whole way down.
Well, maybe not the whole way.
A few flights down, her lungs seized and calf muscles started to quiver. She waved him on, but her soldier didn’t stop. Nope, he tossed her, breathless and giggling over his shoulder and continued their flight to freedom.
A warm night breeze hit her face, but that didn’t signal an end to being carted around. She merely shifted, until she was right side up and cradled against his chest. “Much better view. That cleft chin of yours is definitely working for me.”
“You can thank the scientist who made my grandmother for that.”
“Ugh, that side’s back again? You must be sobering up. I like you better drunk.”
“Maybe you should take me out sometime.”
“I don’t date stuck up guys.”
“I’m working on that, remember?”
It was all the advanced notice he gave her. Next thing she knew, her back was against the side of a building and her chin was being tilted up to his. Lips came next. No, he wasn’t the most graceful kisser, but then he didn’t try to be. He tasted, sampled, sucked and went back for more. Their tongues met in a frenzy of twists and twirls, fighting each other for domination.
This was as much an act of lust as an act of war.
Well, good thing she was OSA…almost. She met his volley head on, doubling down the assault by cupping his very hard butt with one hand and grabbing a fistful of hair with the other. His soft locks presented another surprise, a warm tacky substance. “Bleeding.”
“They have injections for that.”
“Not me. You! Get on your knees. Save the smile. This is serious.” She handed him her omnitablet to use as light while she started her investigations. “Superficial, but it still needs to be cleaned. Hand me the black compartment in my purse and pull out the yellow straw.”
“You keep a medipack in your purse?”
“You never know when you’ll get in a bar fight.”
“Damn, that’s hot.”
“Always prepared for action.” She cringed as soon as she said it. It was one of the oldest Meash Corporation mottos, dating as far back to the first terraforming operations. Cyprus stiffened beneath her fingers. She may as well be working on a statue. Was this idiot actually holding her responsible for something that happened on another planet’s moon before her birth? “I said a Meash slogan. So what?”
“Are you about finished?”
“I have a bioengineered arm, you know.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? It’s called conversation.”
“I can think of something else to call it. Does that in any way make you what I am? Or excuse Meash Corp for what they did?”
“Meash technology gave me this arm…the very arm that’s working on your head. Meash technology terraformed this Quadrant, this whole moon that you’re standing on right now. Not all Meash agencies are the same. Some are…worse than others.”
“You sound like someone with experience. What are the bastards up to now?”
“They’re just not all the same. Kinda like some Earthlings, myself included, are better than others. Some Kin, like yourself, are bigger jerks than others.” She threw up her hands and shrugged. “What are ya going to do?”
One side of the full-lipped mouth rose. “I am going to apologize.”
“Sounds rare. Downright mythical.”
“Yes, my family would agree.”
She rocked on her heels and tapped her fingers against crossed forearms. “But that wasn’t an actual apology. I’m still waiting for that.”
“Wow. Okay, I am as sorry as I am grateful. I do mean that. I, hell, um…in a month I’ll be back, when things settle down at work.” He checked his omnitablet and started typing. “I’ll be here at this point at exactly this time, forty two days from now. Will you?”
“Maybe.”
Chapter Three
Everything hurt. Between the drinking and kissing and high-heeled running, her body painfully voiced its displeasure. It was already shaping up to be the worst day of her life and it hadn’t even really started.
“I’m so excited.” Michi jumped around in her white recruit suit and Lana slid back under the covers.
One friggin’ humiliation after the other. While not exactly see-through, they made every dimple, divot and waves-back-at-you pound of flesh annoyingly visible. Unless, of course, you were Michi, nineteen and damn near weightless. “Remind me why I’m doing this again?”
“Because you’re tired of working for the evil corporate machine and you want to work for the soul sucking government.”
“Right. And why are you doing this?”
For the first time since she’d met the girl, Michi’s perpetual smile wavered. “I’m not really sure.” She looked at her, dead on, with not a trace of joy on her face. “What I mean is, I really have no choice. I’ve been to a million OSA retirement parties and a million and one OSA graduations. My whole family is in deep with this.”
“You’re an adult. Think for yourself. Who says you have to do whatever they tell you?”
Michi shrugged and the side of her lip tilted up. “Maybe I should run away and join with an Ert’zod. A whole family of space pirates, five generations—”
“There was an OSA agent in there.”
“Every family has a reprobate.”
“I met him once, Sheriff Retzi.”
“No!”
“Years ago, back when I first started with Meash Two. Older guy, but gorgeous.”
“Better looking than in the pictures?”
“Down, girl. He’s old enough to be your grandfather. To be clear, you’re not actually considering a life of crime, are you?”
“A woman can dream. C’mon, we’d better hurry. If we’re late the first day, they’ll kill us. Never give them any reason to make an example out of you – good or bad.”
Though they had time to spare, recruits skidded down the sparkling white halls with omnitablets in hand. Where there’d been laughter and shrieking during the moving in, the clomp of boots on floors greeted her ears.
Blinking arrows signaled where they were meant to go. Every time someone veered off course, a helpful hand from a fellow recruit would pluck him at the collar and signal the correct corridor. She came up on the central gymnasium faster than she expected. Eighty people in one room and not a peep heard.
She and Michi picked two spaces in the back, stood on the outlined footprints and waited for their biochips to be recognized by the system. Blank, silver walls and no windows – they may as well have been in a coffin about to be shuttled out through an airlock. She turned to her roommate, but the girl’s face had gone blank. She stood ramrod straight with her eyes to the front, even if it meant a view of the back of the guy’s head in front of her.
Well, she made one small movement. The fist at Michi’s hip uncurled and her index finger pointed forward.
Right.
She took the correction and adopted Michi’s posture. That didn’t stop her eyes from moving all over the place. Lord, she’d walked into hell.
She took back everything she’d thought about her fellow recruits. Younger? Sure. Smarter? That too. She’d prepared with a few extra trips to the gym, expecting her credentials to carry the weight of her acceptance. But everywhere her gaze landed, she saw clean suits, bobbed hair, planted feet and jaws impossibly clenched. What happened to the annoying kids from a few days ago?
Something changed in the air – like an inaudible hum weaving through the crowd. She stood on the tips of her
toes and made out a pop of blond hair walking around the perimeter of bodies. A blue and yellow insignia colored his sleeve. This man would control their OSA future. Police? Military? Central Command? Logistics? It was all up to him.
Save her. No, she was definitely going to medical. All she had to do was get this largely unnecessary qualification program behind her. Then she could get started on her true mission.
The blond moved again, this time along the left side of the formation and closer to where she and Michi stood. She threw back her shoulders and followed Michi’s last second advice of pointing her chin to the back of the head of the person in front of her.
New heat on the side of her face. The man, her new commanding officer, was here. She wanted to move, wanted to turn her face, but kept her eyes forward until the man went away.
*****
Unfuckingbelievable.
He went out one time – ONE – and managed to run into a trainee. Was this a trick? Something Vin had come up with to throw him off his game? No, not even his brother was that reckless.
But her, as a trainee?
He continued his inspection, walking down the line of would be agents, and scrolled through the list of names on his roster. Every season they had two or three older folks, usually disillusioned Meash workers. When he sorted the data file by age, he found her. High-level physician and brilliant, according to his notes.
Cyprus tried to be clinical about the whole thing, even as his palms went wet. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and walked on, determined to keep his composure.
Had she noticed him?
Sure as shit, she did.
This led to a far greater question. Did she plan this? Not the fight, of course, but she’d been the one with the heavy hand, approaching him at the bar. If she meant to curry favor, the chick had better think again.
A misplaced button caught his eye. He held his omnitablet to the twerp’s arm and waited for the biochip to bring up his name. Cyprus added the misstep to the boy’s permanent file. “Do you not appreciate my uniform, scum?”
The owner of the shirt in question blinked a dozen times in rapid succession. It almost brightened his mood.
“Sir?”
“Any reason in particular why you can’t be bothered to dress properly?”
The boy looked down and hurried to redo his outfit.
“Did I tell you to move?”
“No, sir.” The boy’s hands dropped, shirt half open.
“Name?”
“Jones, sir.”
“Well, Jones, if you wish to dress like a child, then out of my graciousness I’ll allow it. You’ll walk around wearing your idiocy for the remainder of the day,” he said and moved on down the line. Every year, all the same. New names and faces, though that hardly mattered. Most of these would be sent out to the far-flung moons of Jupiter. A few of the luckier ones would stay here on Titan. Rejects were shuttled off to Earth, destined never to see a clear sky again.
The choice of who went where was more theirs than his, though they never seemed to know it. Those from OSA or Meash families were best prepared, though sometimes bettered by the poor, hungry for a chance to step and make something of themselves. The third and fourth children of wealthy men broke first. Where did Lana fall on the spectrum?
He’d find out. “RUN!”
The group took off around the training center, breaking away into three packs. The stupid stuck out first. They sprinted, breaking into a sweat early on. Then there were the weak, already slow and waiting to be cut. Finally, Lana and a small minority of recruits kept pace in the middle. Smart. He’d make them run forever. This was the only group with any hope of surviving him.
Five laps later and the gaps widened.
Ten laps later and the chests of the first runners heaved. He’d let it go another few moments before culling the herd.
Lana’s uniform darkened with sweat and her jaws expanded and deflated in time. It wasn’t the most effective method, but it worked for her. She hadn’t slowed. The powerful hips and curvy thighs…no.
No!
Yet not looking wasn’t an option. The perspiration had her clothes plastered to every bend and arc of her body, leaving nothing to the imagination.
He turned away, refocusing his thoughts on her comrades. “Stop running.”
Bent backs heaved as people caught their breath. Good. Now it was time to get rid of the weaklings. It was one thing to run and suffer through it. It was something else entirely to stop, lose the momentum and find the strength to go at it again. “Begin.”
Two groaned. He pointed from them to the door, silently sending them home. Both cried, proving their worthlessness.
His eyes narrowed in on the Kin-Humanoids in the pack. He couldn’t help it. Two were nearly identical, but shared no overt family relationship, at least according to their data files. Their grandparents simply hadn’t had enough sense to widen the gene pool. Assuming they’d have found some willing humans. Poor bastards, all around. On the other hand, the recruits had probably grown up in Kin-Humanoid communities, away from the stares and whispers he’d known as a child. They needed toughening up.
“You, Clifton. Yes, slime, you get over here. The rest stop running and find a partner. We’re moving on to double person pushups.”
The out of breath Kin gasped out a greeting and a half-assed salute.
“Go around once more and come back to me with a proper address.”
“Sir?”
He didn’t have to look up to know it was Lana. “And you are?”
She took her time answering. He tilted his head and caught her eyes widen, before narrowing into pissed off slits. “Lana Kagen, sir.”
“And, Lana Kagen, were you about to say something, or have you come to your senses?”
“I have very much come to my senses, sir,” she said, in a voice laced with ice. If he read her right, she hadn’t expected to see him here either.
“I’m not sure I appreciate your tone.”
“We haven’t been taught to salute, sir. It isn’t Clifton’s fault.”
The Kin grimaced, but with his back to Lana, she wouldn’t have been able to see it. “You should see the look on your rescuee’s face. You’ve just earned him a position as my training partner. I’m sure Clifton will thank you later. You go run, while we learn proper technique.”
“But I—”
“That’ll be all, Kagen. Start running.”
Chapter Four
And run she did. She ran until her thighs quivered and her vision blurred. The jerk made her run two days straight. Every time she slowed, Cyprus…no…Commanding Asshole Officer Dhoma, forced one of the other recruits to run in the opposite direction. As they passed, she winced at the string of rolled eyes and curled lips.
She’d also learned why Cyprus hadn’t taught them to salute. Within three short days…
No.
Within three long days of soul-destroying, I-hate-everything, kill-me-now hell, a fourth of the class either quit or had been pulled, including the Kin she’d stood up for. Even then, Himself didn’t dare lower to this type of instruction. Instead, Cyprus pulled up a chair in the center of the gymnasium while another well-decorated man went through the basics of marching, drilling and salutes.
She thought she caught Cyprus glancing at her over his omnitablet sometimes, but whenever she turned to look directly, his eyes shifted elsewhere.
Did she see any remorse on his beautiful face? Hell no and she could have kicked herself for those momentary lapses into wishful thinking.
But why?
He was mean. Cruel.
A good fighter and an even better kisser.
Still, he’d gone after that Clifton boy for no reason other than his Kin genetics. Anyone could see it. Did Cyprus have that much self-hate running through him that he couldn’t give the kid a freaking chance?
“Stop!”
Bodies slammed together at Cyprus’s order, squishing in heaps of perspiration and hacking
coughs.
“Sometimes we must run to danger and when we get there, do we sit? The answer is no. We fight. I need a volunteer to help me illustrate a Vesuvian Night. You!”
A ginormous, sweat-dripping recruit stumbled over, wheezing between steps. Cyprus stood next to him, facing the opposite direction. In one blazing fast millisecond, the man stepped between the kid’s legs, kicked him in the knee and as the poor guy went down, elbowed him in the kidneys. She winced in sympathy and had to beat back the doctor in her that demanded she render aid.
Cyprus signaled for his assistant trainers to haul the groaning lump off to a medipod. “This will render anyone immobile. What you do when you have them down on the ground will depend on the situation. But this will get them there. You are all about to experience the pleasure of a torn knee ligament and a busted kidney. After, you’ll go to the pod, get healed and then return to inflict that same joy on your classmates. Ladies first.”
Tears.
Screams.
Begging.
That about summed up the rest of her day. No one was ever hurt too long, the medipods were top of the line, but the moments of torture left her face hot, fists clenched and jaw twitching with rage. When people split into small groups for the next round, she sought him out.
The act wasn’t easily accomplished. Grabby hands of her fellow trainees pulled her back. Hushed threats and ‘please God no’s’ didn’t stop her. “Why are you doing this, sir?”
“STOP!”
The room stilled.
“Trainee Kagen would like to know why I’m doing this. Will someone please explain?”
Some fool with a bloodied nose had the nerve to raise his stupid, little hand. “To teach us to be strong, sir. If someone hurts us, we can’t let it show.”
“Good. And?”
The little suck up wiped a nostril on his sleeve, painting the top of his shirt red. “We may be without weapons….an-an-and back up.”
“So therefore,” Cyprus prodded, cleaning behind one thumbnail with the other.