“What seems to be the problem?” she asked Fenton, obstinately trying to ignore the Dakokatan and her lustful thoughts towards him. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the restless stir of the Warlord’s cape. He wanted her to look at him. She refused, aware there wasn’t a rational explanation for her stubbornness.
Fenton smiled and affably waved the Warlord into the closest available seat before he himself perched on the arm of an overstuffed chair. Myrina bit back a grin. deMorris was only six feet tall, but he obviously wanted to keep his position of power in front of the Dakokatan.
“The Ambassador is faced with a small problem, Myrina,” deMorriss said.
Small? I’ll just bet.
The Warlord gestured impatiently. “I hardly call seventy-seven Outposters stranded on a planet a small problem, Mr. deMorriss.” The comment that should have been full of emotion was delivered in an unnatural monotone.
Myrina felt slightly dizzy and her scalp continued to tingle, begging for a massage. Annoyed at her body’s reaction, she now wondered if the Dakokatan had something to do with it. Of course, at the moment, she had no way of confirming her theory except he kept staring at her as if he expected to see something. The question was, what?
“Let me guess,” she said. “You achieved a ninety percent or better compatibility rating and decided what the hell, let’s colonize.”
The Dakokatan’s rugged features hardened. “After the initial investigation, the Outposters were sent to Hitani to conduct ground tests. We had no intention of colonizing the planet until the primary data was verified.”
Myrina caught Fenton’s scowl and backed off on her next logical comment. Every colonization test ever devised tended to look at the points of compatibility between the home and new worlds and blithely ignore the potential problems. There were always factors that were considered irrelevant to the selection process. Many times, as in the case of the Hulites, only extreme consequences and potential lawsuits prevented those fueled by economic greed from raping the land. In other cases a cultural bias overlooked some aspect of the new ecosystem that later played havoc on settlers’ lives.
“Why can’t they be evacuated?” she asked, despite the fact she could guess the answer.
The Warlord’s hands gripped the arms of the chair and turned a luminescent white. “The Outposter who boarded the reconnaissance ship with the medical logs died within an hour of leaving the planet.”
Again she was struck by the lack of inflection in his tone, as if he were purposely trying to suppress his emotions. She bit back a shiver of fear. Humanoids, no matter what kind, seemed hell-bent on making their mark on every inhabitable planet they could find, with little thought to the stress on the new environment or themselves. As it was, she could probably find the glitch in her sleep, but decided not to press her luck. There was still the matter of Fenton’s odd introduction to be explained.
“I take it the Outposters on Hitani are sick,” she said. Why else would they be examining medical logs?
The Dakokatan gave her a curt nod.
“Fine.” She gripped the edge of her seat for support, still unable to bring herself to look the Warlord in the eye. The intensity of the odd reaction was fading, but she still didn’t trust herself to stand. “Send the medical data-chip to my lab along with the body of the dead Outposter. I’ll let you know what I find.”
The quills on his cape clacked in protest as the Dakokatan stood. “Tak tahu adat mati.” He whispered the words rather fiercely before turning to face Fenton who had shoved himself into a standing position. Myrina wondered if she’d just been introduced to the seamier side of the Dakokatan language.
“Mr. deMorriss, straighten this woman out and get her on my ship by tomorrow morning.” Not waiting for a reply, he stalked out, his black cape billowing behind him like the wings of a great bird.
Myrina promptly collapsed against the back of her seat and closed her eyes. The tension ebbed out of her. So I was blunt. So sue me. Unfortunately it was within the bounds of possibility the Dakokatan Warlord wanted to do just that. She cracked an eye open and caught Fenton glaring at her. Oh boy, here it comes.
“Myrina,” Fenton said, repositioning himself on the edge of his desk with an exasperated, paternalistic sigh. “You need to work on your manners. The Confederacy has been courting the Dakokatans for some time. Despite their isolationist policy, they’re explorers and would make an excellent ally in the virtually uncharted southeast sector.
“The Confederacy didn’t have much luck opening negotiations until Ringa was appointed a Warlord about four years ago. Since Ringa is the most likely candidate as the next Council Commander, the Confederacy intends to fully support his request for help in this crisis.”
“Come on, Fenton. Since when do you kowtow to the bigwigs? You know as well as I do that no matter how sophisticated the criteria for selecting a habitable planet, there’s always something that’s not accounted for. Some environmental factor that’s seen as perfectly harmless until someone gets killed.”
Fenton shrugged a little too carelessly. “You can assess the situation yourself more thoroughly when you reach Hitani.”
Myrina surged to her feet, a ripple of alarm streaking down her spine as Fenton’s words sank in. She hadn’t paid much attention when the Warlord had mentioned his ship and her in the same breath. She did now for one simple reason. It distinctly sounded as if Fenton had said she was going out into the field. And he knew full well that was impossible.
“Are you actually suggesting I take a cruise with that guy?” she asked, hoping against hope she’d heard wrong. “My equipment is here. My data banks are here. My own staff is well-trained and used to my methods.”
As if he wasn’t stabbing her in the back, deMorriss laid her assignment on the line. “Myrina, I’m not suggesting anything. I’m telling you. I’ve juggled assignments over the years, but not this time. With one Outposter already dead the status code is now at red alert. You know as well as I do that means a field assignment because conditions on the planet have become so unstable. You are the only one qualified to handle this problem and it can’t be done in the lab.
“You’ll be accompanying the Ambassador on the Dakokatan Speedlite back to Hitani. You’ll have your own quarters, lab, Dakokatan staff. Whatever you need. Given his apparent urgency, I have no idea why Ringa is giving you until tomorrow morning, but if I were you, I’d be thankful.” The humorless smile he gave her didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Look on it as an adventure.”
She hated him for making her beg. “I can’t, Fenton. You know I can’t go on that ship.”
He circled around his desk, cutting off his support and any hope she had of talking her way out of the job. “Myrina, I know you must be tired after spending two days on the satellite, so sleep for a while if you must, but don’t make the mistake of taking this assignment lightly. Your career is on the line with this one and you’ve already managed to piss the Ambassador off. If the job is so easy, find out what’s wrong, impress the man and come home.”
A few choice words lodged in her throat while her hands itched to take a couple of swings and deck the man. He was trying to scare the shit out of her and doing a damn good job of it, but she had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing how frightened she was.
Fists clenched, her stomach roiling, she stormed out of Fenton’s office. The man had just broken an eight year agreement never to send her on a field assignment. Not that it would do any good to remind him of that. She had nothing in writing, only his word, and she’d just discovered how reliable that was.
She made her way to her quarters where she stripped off her standard-issue TLC jumpsuit, washed up, set her alarm and collapsed into bed. Exhaustion tugged at her bones but her brain wouldn’t follow suit. Defeated, she sat huddled in the middle of the bed, her arms wrapped around her legs to stop the shakes.
From her vantage point, she gazed around her room. This apartment in the TLC complex was the only home she
’d ever had as her own and she was terrified that after tomorrow morning she’d never see it again.
* * * * *
Powerless to stop the heated energy from surging through his body and priming his cock to a painful erection, Judan Ringa stalked down the hall and boarded the first moving staircase he came to. Even then his body, like his mind, was too restless to stand still for the ride. The woman had done this to him and he was sure the Foreign Affairs Director had noticed his reaction. He took the stairs two at a time, determined to distance himself from the calculating gaze of Fenton deMorriss.
He sought refuge among the secluded pathways of the jungle-like garden he’d passed on his way to his meeting. He wasn’t ready to return to his ship just yet. Not when he was feeling like this. At this hour the garden was blessedly empty of people. Still he followed a narrow trail deeper into a patch of giant ferns to ensure his privacy.
A short while later he stepped out into a circular opening where several paths met. Although the rest of the garden was ablaze with color and light, here the huge fronds formed a dark, still canopy. The songs of the exotic assortment of birds that inhabited this oasis of green inside the TLC complex echoed above him. Flinging his cape from his shoulders, he tossed it over the nearest of the low stone walls that encircled the small refuge. The useless wig of synthetic hair, designed to hide from a stranger’s view the most sensual part of a Dakokatan’s body, came off next. Unbound, his hair fell like a flaming trail of lava straight to his waist. Even in the shadows the strands glowed with an uncharacteristic brilliance. He didn’t dare touch his hair, though he could feel its fire through the thin material of his shirt, nearly convincing him that he had somehow entered the fire pits of Neraka.
This can’t be happening! Not here. Not now. Yet somehow it is.
He braced his hands on the ledge of a wall and bent his head, welcoming the coolness of the stones that counteracted the inferno that attacked his body.
Dr. Myrina deCarte. During their talk in the Director’s office, her presence had teased his senses, filling his head like a finely spiced wine, drugging his brain and making it nearly impossible to concentrate. He’d answered questions automatically, purposely suppressing any of his body’s traitorous reactions. He’d hoped that by leaving he would regain a measure of control and clear his head.
Closing his eyes he breathed deeply, seeking to steady the erratic beat of his heart. But instead of the heady perfume of the garden, he caught the scent of a female in heat. It was her. Dr. deCarte. Behind him she laughed and he tensed in anticipation.
“Did you really think it would be that easy, Ktua?” Her voice taunted him.
He swallowed. No, not easy. He’d just never considered such a wildly improbable solution.
An instant later her hand settled across his right thigh.
No! This should not be happening to me. To her. To us. It makes no sense.
Of their own volition his lips parted and he gulped in air. It did no good. His blood surged southward through his veins to fill his already engorged cock. Biting his lip he endured her slow, sensual stroke along his thigh. Her hand slid round to cup his buttocks before again edging forward to rest inches from his groin. Behind him her body curled against his, so warm and soft.
He tasted blood.
She was a bold one! Dakokatan women knew better than to caress a man when the flames of lust licked his body like a brush fire across a mountain valley. But she had no such sense. Instead her touch laid claim to him, branding her mark on him.
A raucous cry of a bird rang through the garden. He looked up in time to glimpse the brightly colored plumes of the bird as it took flight from its perch among the tall fronds of a fern. Distracted, he whirled round, grasping at empty air. The illusion vanished.
In silence Judan stared down at his hands. They trembled slightly, the tremor traveling up his arms to shake his entire body. He clenched his fists, helpless to check the speed and intensity of his reactions.
Slowly, one labored breath at a time, his heart rate returned to normal, though desire still strummed through his body. He threaded his hands through his hair, which was now lukewarm rather than hot. At last some of the electrical energy that ran through the strands had begun to dissipate.
Exhausted, he slumped against the stone wall, memories of his last night at home assailing him. The Three Sisters were surely laughing amongst themselves as they waited for their handiwork to unfold. Especially the Third Moon who hid behind her two sisters, for it was she, Judan’s favorite, to whom he’d sent his prayer five months ago.
He delivered Zane back to his mother’s house and stayed to share a meal with them so the table would not seem so empty. Then, at the darkest hour of the night, he donned his cape and walked the five juhs from the city center with the other supplicants to the Grove of the Three Sisters. Every evening when the three moons of Dakokata reached their zenith, they appeared here at their closest proximity to each other, like sisters sharing their secrets.
Following the novices through a stand of orange trees, he came at last to the small glade, to hear the priestess on duty sing to the moons. Later, he dutifully visited the three shrines, making the standard offering of flower petals to the first two sisters. Amidst the soft murmur and singsong of the other worshipers, he felt like a hypocrite. The priestess believed he offered prayers for a safe mission, a tradition among the Ktua and one he’d practiced now for several years.
By the time he reached the nearly deserted shrine of the Third Moon, he was seriously questioning the foolishness of his plan. Yet for some time now he’d been unable to deny the fierce longing that gnawed at his heart every time he visited his mother. He wanted Zane as his own son. All the attention and time he gave the boy was not enough. Would never be enough for either of them and yet, by law, any future they had together was inescapably tied to the whim of fate—to Rakanasmara.
No child on Dakokata was denied a rightful place within his or her extended family. However, to ensure stability in the face of tragedy, only those family members already bonded by Rakanasmara qualified as surrogate parents to orphaned children.
And so, illuminated only by the Three Sisters themselves, he humbled himself at the shrine of the Third Moon. Because he didn’t dare ask a priestess for advice regarding the offering, he chose it himself. Despite being unsure what made a suitable gift, he knew instinctively that he had to offer her something of immense value.
With care, he knelt before the shrine’s circle of three sacred stones and lit the small pile of kindling within. Then, before he could question further the wisdom of his actions, he withdrew the knife he kept in a sheath in his boot. Reaching up, he cut off one of the braids in his hair and lowered it into the flames. When his prayer was answered and he’d found his mate, she would weave him another braid to replace the one he’d sent to the Third Moon in the desperate hope of finding her.
Agitated by the memory, Judan grabbed his cape and wig from the wall only to pause.
Have I? Have I found her?
Slowly he made his way through the garden. He needed to get back to his ship and search for some answers. As he retraced his steps along the pathway, his copper hair shone like a fiery beacon behind him.
Chapter Two
Six hours later Myrina entered the Fifth Wheel—she was a woman on a mission. Rested, if not entirely refreshed, she was dressed in her favorite velvety, coffee-brown skirt and T-shirt with matching butter-soft leather boots. The bar was alive with music and it seemed the cacophony of voices spoke just about every language in the universe. She shook her head when one of the waitstaff approached her for her order and scanned the crowd instead.
A moment later she spotted her assistant, Kikki San, who shouted and waved at her. Myrina grinned ruefully, remembering she’d never made it to the lab earlier in the day. And wasn’t likely to anytime soon.
Her facial features proclaiming her multiracial background, Myrina’s pint-sized assistant dressed with the same flamboyan
t style she used to approach life. This evening Kikki’s dreadlocks were a fluorescent yellow. When Myrina had left for her meeting three days before they’d been purple.
Another colleague, Sonora Austen—Sonny to her friends—sat beside Kikki. Dressed in her TLC-issued jumpsuit, the cultural anthropologist wore her waist-length brown hair in a severe twist. The style aptly summed up Sonny’s regally calm, no-nonsense approach to life. A small smile of welcome played across her face when she caught sight of Myrina.
“Have you heard?” Kikki asked when Myrina snagged a chair and sat down.
Myrina suppressed a groan. “Heard what?” She did not need any more surprises today.
“Some green guy was in the lab yesterday looking around.” Kikki’s voice trembled with suppressed excitement.
“He was in my lab?” Myrina shifted in her seat, causing her chair to scrape across the floor. Damn, she couldn’t even say the man’s name, though a few other choice terms flitted through her brain. Only invited guests were allowed in the private labs and she’d certainly never authorized his visit.
“You know this man, Myrina?” Kikki asked.
Myrina nodded. “We’ve met,” she admitted reluctantly, then regretted her morose response when she realized Kikki had interpreted it as displeasure toward her rather than the Dakokatan.
“Fenton deMorriss gave him a personal tour,” Kikki said, obviously feeling the need to justify her actions. “The authorization came from deVere so I had to let them look around.”
Well crap. deVere was the Director’s Director of TLC and his word was law. If he’d authorized the little green man’s snoop around her lab, there was nothing she could do about it.
“Are you talking about the Dakokatan Ktua?” Sonny asked. “I’d heard one of their Speedlites was docked at deVere’s private port, but I haven’t seen any of the crew yet. I was hoping to get a chance to…”
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