Enemy Within

by Marcella Burnard

  His eyes drifted shut again as if encouraging her.

  Under different circumstances and with a door that locked, she’d be tempted to accept the invitation. Surprise rocked her at the thought. Armada captains didn’t indulge in affairs and certainly not with the enemy. Sure, she owed him, but hadn’t he made certain that she would?

  Unsettled both by her train of thought and by the magnetic force Cullin Seaghdh exerted on her, she glanced around the tiny cave. It was nearly the same size as a Chekydran cell. What if she wasn’t free? What if everything, her release, her “recovery,” her father, Seaghdh, all of it, what if it was an elaborate hallucination incited by Chekydran mind-control drugs? What if she’d created the damnably attractive, compelling Cullin Seaghdh out of her own fantasies? Out of her wish for rescue from the Chekydran? If that was true, then she’d become her own worst nightmare.

  She heard him shift.

  “Ari?” Seaghdh. He’d obviously recovered enough to rise. He laid a finger along the line of her jaw.

  Abruptly, she saw him instead of a Chekydran cell and realized her breath came in shallow, rapid gusts. She sucked in a deep breath and held it.

  “Sit,” he urged. “You’re bleeding. Let me clean that cut. Sit still.” His voice enfolded her. He dabbed her cheek.

  Antiseptic entered the cut. She let her breath out in a rush. Her eyes watered, but her head cleared. She sighed and touched his face. “You had better be real.”

  He started and stared at her, horror in his expression as his imagination took her statement and ran with it. Struggling for something to say, he turned his head to plant a kiss in the palm of her hand. “I am going to murder every single one of those bastards,” he said, his tone unaccountably pleasant.

  “Get in line,” she replied.

  He crouched before her. He’d put his shirt on but hadn’t buttoned it. Had he done it on purpose, knowing what effect the exquisite lines of his body had on her? The want consuming her flared.

  Point to him.

  “Close your eyes?” she asked, hating how her voice shook.

  Looking mystified, he obeyed.

  She needed to feel something other than fear, other than self-loathing. She kissed him. He leaned in, nearly fell. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. Liquid fire surged through her blood, settling low in a rush. Something ignited between them. Passion. Far more than she’d bargained for. She pulled away, gasping.

  For the first time in six months, she felt alive. Something fragile and trembling swelled inside her. It tasted like hope.

  Seaghdh let go but brushed hair from her face. Sensation followed the path of his caress.

  “I hate that I’m afraid of everything,” she grumbled, looking away. “I hate being weak.”

  “Weak?” He grasped her chin and brought her back to face his disbelief. “Alexandria Rose Idylle, if you were weak, you’d be dead. Weak women don’t survive three months of Chekydran questioning. Three Hells, no one survives it.”

  Before she could answer, someone cleared his throat in the hallway.

  “Sister Alex?”

  Augie.

  “May I enter?” he asked.

  “A moment,” she called before looking at Seaghdh. “How’s that arm? Any residual numbness?”

  He grinned and stood, closing his shirt. “No. Just tingling.”

  Ari choked on a laugh, rose, and held the curtain aside. “Come on in, Augie. If I haven’t mentioned it yet, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you alive.”

  He cast an apologetic glance at Seaghdh and embraced her. “We thought you were dead, Alexandria.”

  “Me, too,” she answered. “I know I wanted to be.”

  He released her and backed away, tucking his hands behind him. “Mr. Seaghdh, you are feeling better, I trust?”

  “Captain,” she corrected.

  Augie’s pleasant expression faltered as he looked between them. He nodded. “Of course. Someone who understands your first love.”

  She flinched.

  Seaghdh crossed his arms, frowning.

  “Forgive me, Alex, and Captain Seaghdh.” Augie smiled, his eyes sad. “Perhaps Alexandria explained that I’d asked her to marry me. I could not entice her to leave the bridge of her ship. If I thought I could convince you both to stay, I’d offer again.”

  Her head reeled. “You’d offer for both of us?”

  The truly disconcerted look on Seaghdh’s face drew a pained laugh from her. Augie echoed it. She heard the loss beneath his chuckle.

  “We expected you yesterday,” he said to her.

  “I know. Sorry. We were delayed by a . . .” She stopped short, dots of data connecting in her head in slow motion. Cold, oily horror spilled through her. “The attack on the Settlements was yesterday, wasn’t it? They were after me. Why? The soldiers out there were trying to capture me, not kill me.”

  “We had it all planned,” Augie said. “A great celebration to welcome you back. We were working on decorations while everyone else attended a service of thanksgiving that you’d been delivered from the Chekydran. The soldiers appeared in the middle of both towns, right outside the chapel and the temple. I don’t know that they have souls left, but surely for committing murder on sanctified ground, they’ll suffer for eternity.”

  Ari’s legs gave way and she sank to the floor. So many dead. “This is my fault.”

  Kneeling before her, Augie stared into her face. “Would you have been able to save them if you’d been here, Alex?”

  She blinked. Swallowing hard past the boulder lodged in her chest, she shook her head. “No,” she admitted. “Not all of them.”

  “You would only have been captured again or killed,” Augie said.

  She didn’t like it, but what he said made sense. Shoving guilt to one side, she forced herself to think, to evaluate. She had data here. Parsed properly, she could coax answers from it. Answers she didn’t like.

  Heart pounding, she snarled, “The Chekydran didn’t do this. They couldn’t have. It had to have been Armada.” She turned and glared at Seaghdh. He lounged against one wall, his arms crossed, disquiet in his face. “Damn you! You knew this!”

  He straightened, his features tight. “No, I didn’t, Ari. You’re jumping to conclusions . . .”

  She shoved herself to her feet. “One: the only people who knew about the Kebgra stops were Armada and IntCom. Two: whoever sent these things thought they knew my schedule. IntCom is out. With all the sensors they have on board, they’d have known the Sen Ekir was delayed before we’d even admitted it to ourselves. Three: those damned soldiers were targeting me.”

  “The Chekydran—” Seaghdh began, anger flashing in his golden eyes.

  “Didn’t know about Kebgra!” she interrupted, her voice rising. “I have precious little to protect, Seaghdh, but what I have, I do. Not even you knew.”

  He stopped dead, pain replacing the irritation in his face. “You were questioned and tortured for three months and never told them—What did you tell them?”

  Less than she’d told him. What did that mean?

  He peered at her, his look thoughtful and calculating. “You’re right. We didn’t know about Kebgra. You may be a better spy than I am.”

  She closed her eyes and turned away. It was the only way to keep him from reading just how close she was to shattering. While she’d been a prisoner, she’d thought only of getting away, getting back to normal. She’d focused on returning to the life that had been interrupted at her capture. She’d wanted to lose herself in the flux and flow of mundane details, specimens to be gathered and analyzed for her dad, supplies of seed and cloth for the people of Kebgra, and routine patrols of the border interspersed with chasing down drunken miners violating TFC space.

  Where in the past six months had it happened? At what point, exactly, had her life been choked off and twisted into this wrecked and limping parody that left so many people she cared about dead?

  “I can’t stay he
re,” she said.

  “I agree,” Augie answered, anguish in his tone. “We cannot protect you.”

  She opened her eyes and choked back a laugh. “And I can’t protect you.”

  “We never once asked you to,” Augie replied. He shrugged and she realized she was gaping at him. “We’ve always wondered when the Tagreth Federated Council would tire of the media events we call protests.”

  “You’re dissenters?” Seaghdh asked. He closed his eyes. “You’re the Citizen’s Rights Uprising, aren’t you?”

  “You’ve heard of us. Good.” Augie smiled. “We are vociferous, but peaceful, in our disagreements with TFC.”

  “You think this strike was a matter of two orrkel with one rock, then,” Seaghdh surmised.

  “It is possible,” Augie agreed.

  Seaghdh laughed, as unhappy a sound as any Ari had ever heard. He glanced at her. “You’ve been running goods to the CRU?”

  She could see in his face that he believed this to be the source of her troubles. If only it were that simple. Still, she should have seen that Augie and his people would suffer. She should have been able to figure it out on her own, but it was coming at her too fast, from all directions. She couldn’t seem to shake off the damage the Chekydran had done. Her blood ran cold, and she shuddered. What if it was permanent? Or worse, a sign of brainwashing far subtler, far more insidious than had turned her lieutenant into a killing machine?

  CHAPTER 13

  ARI didn’t know what Augie saw in her face, but he took her hand and squeezed before releasing her and saying, “I am sorry. I allowed myself to be distracted. I came because Captain Seaghdh’s ship has returned and sent a shuttle to retrieve you.”

  Ari glanced at Seaghdh’s frown.

  “You didn’t really expect them to be able to track the mother, did you? Much less catch it?” she prodded.

  He shot her an annoyed glance.

  “What’s the matter, Seaghdh?” she said, grinning. “Not used to a woman with a grasp of e—tactics?” She’d almost said “enemy tactics.”

  Seaghdh’s hand closing around her arm told her he’d heard. “Is that what you have a grasp of?” he countered, ushering her out of the cave. He and Augie laughed.

  At the narrow mouth of the cavern system, Turrel waited beside a young woman. She’d braided her long brown hair since last Ari had seen her, but she recognized Larna, Augie’s wife. He’d proposed to her after Ari had turned him down.

  “V’k’s at the shuttle,” Turrel said by way of greeting. “That mother ship has jump technology we can’t touch. Or trace.”

  Seaghdh closed his eyes and nodded.

  “They’re waiting for us,” Turrel went on. He glanced at Augie and Larna. “Appreciate your hospitality, folks. If we can do anything for you, just say so.”

  Neither got the chance to respond. Kirthin Turrel marched into the open and angled out of sight.

  “I need a moment,” Ari told Seaghdh.

  He opened his eyes and studied her. The corridor wasn’t lit, but enough daylight filtered in through the opening that she could make out the uncertainty in his face. “Need privacy?”

  What did he have to fear from these people? Or was it her he feared?

  “No,” she said. She left him standing in the cavern opening and went to offer one hand to Augie and one to Larna.

  “Sister,” Larna said, smiling. “You promised to wed here.”

  “This wasn’t exactly planned,” Ari replied.

  “The Claugh nib Dovvyth are undisciplined people,” Augie noted. “I’m surprised to find you in this man’s company.”

  “Undisciplined?” Ari echoed.

  “You come from an ancient race,” he said. “One with nearly a millennium of tradition and belief. The Claugh—”

  “Have a long-standing tradition of accepting others in a way that our people find unacceptable,” she interrupted. “I didn’t say this would be easy.”

  “They have raised deception to an art form, Alexandria. Be certain you are not his canvas.” Augie’s hand tightened on her hand and he darted a look over her shoulder at Seaghdh. “Have you given yourself to him?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

  Ari blinked at the mental picture the question painted. “No.” But Gods, she wanted to.

  “You are not married, then,” Augie said.

  She shrugged, uneasy. “Not the way you mean. You know things aren’t quite as cut-and-dried off Kebgra.”

  “Church Law does not change for your location or your convenience, Alexandria,” Augie replied.

  “Meaning that my capture and three months of torture were Judgment?” she demanded, ignoring the fact that she’d never converted to the Citizen’s Church, even though most of Kebgra had always treated her as though it was inevitable.

  Augie grabbed her by the arms.

  Larna caught in an audible breath, unhappiness in her face.

  “No! Alex, I cannot pretend to know,” he rasped. “It is not—I only wanted to ask you to stay with us. We both want you. You have not yet committed. Please. Consider turning your back to your past. Build life anew. Build a future and a family.”

  “You were first,” Larna said. “If you will only say yes, you will be again, regardless of wedding dates.”

  Ari closed her eyes. “That’s not Church Law.”

  “It may be selfish of me. I don’t care,” Larna replied. “You’re worth it.”

  With a sigh, Ari opened her eyes. For a moment, she felt the pull of living a simple, uncomplicated life surrounded by people who liked her.

  Ari shook off the temptation. She wasn’t in love with Augie or Larna. They deserved better. That they didn’t understand her was clear. Turn her back on what had happened to her? On what she’d begun to suspect was happening in the Armada? She couldn’t. And they’d never understand why she believed she could make a difference. How could she have missed that? Or was it why she’d said no to Augie in the first place seven months ago?

  “If I thought you’d be safe, if I thought I’d be safe, I’d consider it. But a lot of people seem to want me and everyone around me dead. I’ve already brought more trouble upon you than I can bear. I will not be the cause of more.”

  Augie and Larna traded a bleak glance. He nodded. “We knew you would say these things.” He released her and stepped back. “We need you, Alexandria. Resolve these dangers plaguing you. When you do, know you have a place in our hearts, in our home, waiting for you.”

  “Thank you.” Ari kissed him, then Larna. No fire shimmered inside her skin, despite the fact that each of them leaned into the contact, obviously hoping to change her mind. From the farewell she tasted in Larna’s lips, it was plain that the woman did not expect her to return.

  “Now,” Ari said. “What arrangements for evacuation and relocation may I offer?”

  “We are not leaving.”

  “They could come back,” she said.

  “Yes, they could. And if they do not, the Chekydran may,” Augie said. “This is our home. If they’d meant to destroy us, they’d have burned the crops, poisoned the soil, and bombed our towns and our homes.”

  Ari found herself nodding as Augie spoke. “So. Scare tactic?”

  “Or a test run,” Seaghdh offered.

  She threw him a sharp glance. “Get me evidence of it. If I can then find out who issued the order, I’ll feed him or her through the Sen Ekir’s fuel valves. A piece at a time.”

  Seaghdh, Augie, and Larna stared at her as if not certain of what they saw. Ari looked back, unwilling to alter the cold, hard expression she felt on her face.

  “It concerns me,” Seaghdh commented, his tone mild, “that you sound like you know precisely how efficiently humanoid flesh and bone burn in an atmospheric engine.”

  “It should,” Augie answered for her. “Why do you think I asked her to marry me?”

  Ari couldn’t help but laugh. She nodded to Augie, squeezed Larna’s hand, and turned away.

  “Ready?” Seaghdh as
ked. He put a palm in the small of her back. How could so simple a contact touch off a cascade of chemicals in her body?

  She let him usher her to the shuttle, aware that she could no longer ignore the obvious. She was attracted to Cullin Seaghdh, but how often had she heard it said? Sex has nothing to do with love. And she couldn’t love the man, could she? She was too traumatized to let anyone get that close. She had no idea whether she’d ever be able to love.

  Still. Once this was over, once she’d provided the information his government wanted and she was cut loose, she’d miss him. She’d miss his challenges, the sparring, that damned, cocky grin, his voice reaching out to her in the dark. She’d miss the sense of safety, of acceptance she felt in his arms. She’d miss the way he made her laugh.

  Baxt’k.

  In the shuttle, Turrel and V’kyrri strapped in on either side of her, as if they’d appointed themselves to guard her. Were they guarding her against someone? Or everyone else against her?

  Seaghdh took position at piloting. A young female officer shifted to the copilot’s seat. They ran their checklist in their own language. Even though Ari didn’t understand a word, she could follow based on Seaghdh’s question, the girl’s hand on a console activating the system, and her affirmative reply. The atmospherics hummed to life.

  Her heart thumped hard in time with the word resounding in her head. Prisoner. Adrenaline flooded her middle, cold, sharp. Muscles trembled, urging action. In a flash, she gauged the distance to the hatch. Fewer than three seconds from her seat to the door. Memory handed her the lock code. Barring a fat-finger mistake on the command pad, four seconds to open the hatch and run for her life. Seven seconds from freedom.

  She dropped her chin to her chest and sucked in a harsh breath. Get a grip, Ari. She was seven seconds from condemning Augie and everyone on Kebgra to death, even assuming she could outrun Turrel. Granted, she knew far more about Kebgra than Seaghdh and his men. She could conceivably hide from them. But she had some evidence that she couldn’t hide from the mutated soldiers that had been sent after her.

  Any question of playing hide-and-seek in the fields and forests of Kebgra evaporated as the engines ramped and lifted her from the ruins of her life. She closed her eyes on the thought that while she wasn’t shackled and neuro-locked, she was as much at someone else’s mercy as she had been the day the Chekydran had captured her.