by Susan Hayes
She wanted to find out why Braxon had grabbed her, and why he kept looking at her with unease while Tyran looked at her like she was a present he wanted to unwrap. Why had they noticed her at all, never mind selected her to help them? There were so many questions she wanted to ask about their world, their lives, and their wings. She leaned back in her chair to get a better look at those wings, but Tyran’s were gone. A quick glance at Braxon showed the same thing.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she reached out to place a hand on Braxon’s back. There. She could feel his wing beneath her hand, at least, she thought that’s what she was feeling.
Braxon exhaled sharply and snapped his head around to look at her. For a second, his green eyes glowed with obvious desire as he leaned into her touch, but then he moved away again.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you without permission.”
Braxon’s brow furrowed, but instead of barking at her, he nodded. “I also touched you without permission. Now, we are equal. Next time, I ask.”
“Did I hurt you?” she asked as she withdrew her hand.
He gave her a panty-meltingly hot smile. “You did not hurt me. That was - I think the word is - pleasurable.”
Holy fraxx. He was flirting with her. At least, she thought he was. If he was flirting, did that mean he and Tyran shared? The idea of being the filling in a sexy alien sandwich flipped switches she didn’t know she had. It also made her wonder what, exactly, her new duties entailed. Was sexplomacy a thing? Was it even a word?
A corporate lackey came by and set down a glass of ice water in front of her and the other guests. She picked up the glass and nearly dropped it in surprise. So cold. She got a firmer grip and took a drink. That’s when she realized what the problem was. It wasn’t the temperature of the water. It was her. She was running hot and hadn’t even noticed. Did she have a fever? Veth, she hoped not.
Archer stood, and the buzz of conversation died away as he began to speak. “Now that we’re all comfortable, I was hoping that you could answer a few questions for us. I intend to keep this meeting brief, as it’s the middle of the sleep cycle for many of us, but I’m sure there are questions on both sides.”
He inclined his head toward Tyran and Braxon, though she noticed his gaze never left the prince. “On the walk here, I asked what brought you to this part of the galaxy. I’d like to ask a follow-up question if I may. How did you know where to find us?”
Braxon answered, forcing Archer to look at him. “We followed your communication traffic. So many ships and stations create noise. The closer we got, the louder the noise. Eventually, we heard your transmissions clearly and knew we had found others like us.”
“And you came here alone? No military back up?”
Phaedra listened to Archer’s questions and wondered if the man ever thought beyond his role as a military officer. He had been like this on the mission to Reamus station, too. Everything he saw was processed through the same filter.
“We are a scout ship. Scout ships always travel alone,” Braxon replied.
“What if we had been hostile? What if you had been attacked instead of welcomed?”
Braxon grinned, baring a set of fangs she hadn’t seen until now. “That’s why we listened and learned your language before making contact. We believed you to be not hostile. If you had attacked, our plan was simple. Tyr fly. I shoot.”
His answer was met with chuckles from around the table. Archer leaned back in his chair, apparently satisfied. “Thank you. Do you have any questions for us?”
Tyran answered this time. “We have not had time yet to review the information you sent. Now we have Phaedra to help us translate, I believe we will have more questions soon. For now, I would like to know, is there a way for us to claim a planet in this part of the galaxy? To make a new home. A place for trade.”
The question was greeted with silence and Phaedra wanted to stand up and scream. This was why the cyborgs they’d rescued were still locked away in cryo-sleep. Neither the IAF nor the corporations wanted to give up one of their precious planets. Tactically important locations. Mineral rights. Future considerations. She’d heard all the excuses.
Well, not heard. Read. No one wanted her opinion or allowed her to attend their meetings. Once she had hacked into Reamus station’s main systems, deactivated the automated defenses and ensured what little data remaining on the servers was secured, she’d been shut out. Everything she knew about the cyborgs and their plight she learned from Zale and Denz or from her hacks into Archer’s communications. She learned long ago that the galaxy’s greatest currency was information, and she gathered it like a dragon hoarded gold.
Tyran leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. “We would not expect it to be a gift, but part of a larger agreement. Perhaps a trade? Our technology and knowledge, as well as the opportunity to trade with the Vardarian empire and its allies?”
The atmosphere changed instantly. Reluctance turned to interest. Everyone leaned forward, their attention suddenly fixed on Tyran.
“How many planets would you need?”
“What technology could you offer?”
“What about weaponry? Star maps?”
The questions came all at once, and she decided it was time to remind everyone present what her role was. She raised her hands, and when that didn’t work, she put two fingers to her lips whistled.
Silence fell.
She smiled sweetly as some of the most influential beings on the Drift gaped at her. “Perhaps everyone here has forgotten that our esteemed visitors have only been speaking Galactic Standard for a few weeks. If you wish to ask a question, you will need to proceed one at a time and make your meaning clear.”
To her surprise, Archer nodded in agreement. “Now is not the time for detailed questions. Let’s keep the queries general and easily understood for tonight and save the rest for later. Negotiations like this will have far-reaching consequences and will take time.”
“I assume that future meetings will be by invitation only? Restricted to those of us who have a part to play in these negotiations?” The question came from a heavy-set man with ring encrusted fingers who looked pointedly at Phaedra.
Tyran took Phaedra’s hand in his. “We are here to negotiate with all beings who wish to speak with us. We chose Phaedra Kari, a human, to assist and guide us. She will accompany us at all times.”
Phaedra felt a rush of warmth and gratitude toward Tyran. She couldn’t remember the last time a stranger had stood up for her.
“I see.” Mister rings-galore looked like he’d swallowed something moldy and possibly toxic. “And what, exactly, are her qualifications for that position – apart from the obvious?”
Her temper hit the stratosphere. “Let’s see, I speak five languages, have an augmented memory that allows me perfect recall, and experience working with hardware and software from a variety of worlds. As for my obvious qualifications, I have to assume you were referring to my implants.”
She held out her free hand palm up so that the data port embedded in her wrist was clearly visible. “I’m a fully jacked cyber-jockey, which means I should be able to interface with our esteemed visitors’ computer systems. That means I can learn their language and figure out how to make their tech play nicely with ours. Those are my qualifications.”
Archer cleared his throat. “If there are no other questions, I believe we’ll wrap this up for now. An agenda and invitations to attend negotiations will be prepared and sent out as quickly as possible.”
He got to his feet and gave Phaedra a steely-eyed look. “If our guests and their liaison could stay until everyone else has left, I have a few security issues to discuss before you return to your ship.”
She should probably be worried about what Archer was going to say once the others left, but she was distracted by the way Tyran kept stroking his thumb over the back of her hand.
Braxon reached for her hand but stopped before making contact. “I wish to see your
arm. May I touch you?”
She was tempted to tell him that if kept being this nice, he could touch her anywhere he liked. What the hell was wrong with her? First, she was overheating, and now she was feeling weirdly giddy.
The weirdness jumped another notch when Braxon touched her arm. All he was doing was running his fingers around the data port, but it felt like a sensual caress.
“You are enhanced?” Braxon asked.
“I am.” She hadn’t meant to tell them this way, but at least they seemed to be taking the news well. Better than many humans, actually.
“Why? What purpose?”
“To interface with machines. I can go inside them, to what we call cyberspace. The place where information is stored and artificial intelligence exists.”
“You can connect directly?”
“I can.”
He pointed to Tyran, then himself. “So can we.”
“You can? How? Show me!”
“Not like you. Similar, but smaller.” Tyran joined in. “Much smaller.”
“Inside your body?” She felt like she’d fallen into a wormhole and come out in a world where everything that made her different was suddenly the norm.
“Yes. Microscopic,” Tyran stretched out the word as he struggled to pronounce it.
“Medi-bots. Nanotech. That’s what we call it.” She lowered her voice. “I have that, too.”
“Which is a secret you were told not to reveal, Kari.” Archer reminded her.
Braxon scowled. “Why is it a secret? All of our people have such enhancements. It is how we adapt ourselves to new worlds and environments.”
“Nanotech and augmentation are not common among beings in this part of the galaxy. Most of those who do are cyborgs, and they’re a relatively new species.”
“They are not a different species. They’re humans,” she retorted. Those were her friends he was talking about.
“Cyborgs?” Tyran asked, looking uncertain. “I do not recall hearing anything about them.”
“I’ll explain about them later. Then I can introduce you to some.”
Archer surprised her by agreeing with her again. “Good thinking. Make sure Zale meets them, too. In fact, I’ll send you a list of names. You’ll need to find a way to ensure everyone meets with our guests for at least a few minutes.”
“Me?”
“You’re their guide, liaison, and translator. I’ll arrange for security, but everything else will require your input. At least I don’t have to worry about you being unduly influenced by the corporations. You wouldn’t have been my first choice for this position, but now I’ve had time to think about it, you might be exactly the right person for the job.”
Archer being complimentary? The theory she’d landed in an alternate universe was starting to look more and more likely.
“Forgive me, but I struggle to see what the issue is. Phaedra is more than qualified.” Tyran said.
“I imagine that your empire has different factions? Groups of people with similar interests, who work against those who do not share their goals?” Archer asked.
Tyran and Braxon both nodded. “The imperial court is full of such factions.” Tyran said.
There was no missing the disdain in his tone. He didn’t like political games. Was that why someone of his rank was out scouting the galaxy instead of staying home? “We have the same dynamics at play here.” Archer splayed his hands wide. “Everyone has their own interests and biases. Phaedra is…” Archer shrugged looked her way. “Kari, you should be the one to explain matters, and give them a crash course in politics and factions while you’re at it. And for the love of whatever you hold dear, try to stick to the facts without adding your own colorful commentary.”
“Of course I will. I’m a good little galactic citizen.”
He merely arched a brow in response, his silence speaking volumes.
“I’ll keep the spinning to a minimum,” she offered.
“Acceptable.” He turned to Tyran. “I will have a security team assigned to guard your ship and accompany you on any excursions. They’ll be there mostly for crowd control. I believe you will be the focus of a great deal of attention.”
“I am Prince Tyran’s anrik. It is my duty to protect him.”
Phaedra stepped in. “Protecting Tyran may be your duty but protecting you both is Colonel Archer’s. It would make it easier for you to explore the station and move around if there was someone to ensure we had space to move.”
Tyran squeezed her hand. “It is also our duty to protect you. As our mah—our guide — your safety and comfort fall to us.” He looked over at Braxon and uttered a few words in their language.
“Very well.” Braxon rose from his chair, and once again Phaedra was struck by how big the two males were. If they were duty-bound to protect her, she was going to be one of the safest women on the Drift.
“You will accompany us back to our ship and we will talk about matters, yes?” Tyran asked her.
“Talk tonight, then send me a report tomorrow morning with as much information as you can.” Archer ordered.
Phaedra got to her feet. “What’s the magic word, Colonel?”
He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair and grunted in irritation. “Send me a report tomorrow morning, please.”
She grinned. “I’ll make sure it’s the first thing on my to-do list.”
“I’m starting to rethink your suitability for this assignment already,” he grumbled as he rounded the table and shook hands with Tyran and Braxon. “Phaedra will see you back to your ship, along with two guards. I’ll speak with you both again tomorrow. And once again, I’d like to welcome you to this part of the galaxy.”
The moment they were alone, Tyran and Braxon started speaking to each other in their own language. She didn’t need to speak it to know that they were having some sort of debate. She let it go on for a few minutes and then tugged at Tyran’s hand until he stopped talking to look down at her.
“We should continue any conversations you might want to have on your ship.” She gestured around them. “This is not a secure area.”
Braxon nodded, and she thought she detected a hint of respect in his expression. “You are right. The ship is the best place for us right now.”
Taking that as permission to leave, Phaedra started for the door and Tyran followed after her, still holding her hand.
There were two IAF soldier’s waiting in the corridor. “We’re going back to the ship, now. Please lead the way,” she asked, and they nodded without uttering a single word.
The three of them fell in behind the soldiers with Braxon walking a few feet ahead. The slits in his vest gave her glimpses of his back, and every once in a while, she saw part of a wing. It appeared to be folded tightly against his body, and once again she found herself tempted to reach out and touch him. Maybe once they knew each other better she’d ask to see their wings. Hell, given the way they were acting, maybe she’d get to see a whole lot more than that. The idea made her heart race and a surge of desire coursed through her, leaving fire and need it its wake.
Braxon glanced back at her like he knew what she was feeling. His gaze locked with hers, and for the second time that night she felt like something inside her was reaching out, trying to connect.
“Mahaya.” Tyran uttered the word with near reverence.
“Cahan tesk a jeza,” Braxon replied without looking back.
She glanced up at Tyran. “This would be more fun if I spoke Vardarian. What are you saying to each other?”
“I will tell you when we are alone. We have much to talk about.”
“We do. And fortunately for us, I don’t need a lot of sleep. I’ll explain more about that when we’re alone, too.”
“I look forward to knowing all about you, Phaedra Kari. Tonight will be the first of many conversations,” Tyran said.
They were almost back to the docking ring now. She hadn’t realized how big Astek’s headquarters were until now. The main entrance wa
s closer to the station’s center and several levels up.
“I want to know more about you, too. Both of you. I want to make sure you get the best possible deal for your people, and maybe you can find a way to help me get a deal for some of my friends, too.”
“Whatever you need of us, mahaya, all you have to do is ask.”
She wanted to ask what mahaya meant, but their escort came to a stop outside the door that led to the alien’s ship. They’d made good time, due in part to the late hour and the route they’d taken. Anyone still awake would be on the main promenade, enjoying the entertainments on offer.
“Our orders are to remain outside and to escort you if you leave the ship,” the taller one declared.
He didn’t look familiar to her, but there was more IAF personnel around these days. Things had been quiet since they had captured the Reaper and rid the Drift of the illegal pharma called Crimson, but everyone knew it wouldn’t last. There was too much tension between the corporations, the planetary governments, and the Interstellar Armed Forces. Something was going to break soon, and when it did, it was going to get ugly.
Usually, ugly was her cue to pull up stakes and move on. She didn’t stay in one place too long. She couldn’t. She had made too many enemies over the years and uncovered too many secrets. This time, she was staying. Her friends, and the cyborgs they’d rescued, needed every ally they could find.
The guards stood aside, allowing Braxon to access the door panel and pass his hand over a sensor. The door opened, and the three of them stepped inside the most elegantly appointed ship Phaedra had ever seen.
Chapter Four
Braxon was waging an internal battle to stay in control - and he was losing. Tyr had already succumbed to the allure of the tiny human female.