“Should we involve an innocent civilian in our problems though?”
Marcus smothered a laugh. “Innocent? Can’t remember the last time Sam was accused of being innocent. Wait till you meet him. He’s as intense as Gramps was, as I am. The best part—he’s a high ranking cop now. He’s the perfect person to involve. I bet he had something to do with me getting assigned here for rehab. Team guys tend to stick together—we have an unofficial network Command doesn’t sanction but highly effective nonetheless. He’d have heard I was busted up badly. He owes me for pulling his sorry ass out of a few firefights in our early deployments, so I could see him trying to keep track of me. He’d know I had no family left.”
“Sam sounds better all the time.” She craned her neck to verify whether they were still in the clear. “No pursuit. I guess we fooled them pretty well, at least enough to buy time to escape.”
“We’ll be on the main freeway soon. Less chance of an attack there.”
“Are you sure you can trust this man? If he’s been on the planet a few years—” Carialle was afraid to get her hopes up. She’d overheard too many Combine conversations about crooked cops on the payroll during her missions with Dobkin.
“I’m positive. But I’m not going to risk you. I’ve got a plan for taking this in stages. Keeping you safe is my highest priority.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Carialle’s nerves spun up as the car entered the outskirts of the city. Her blood pressure rose, her heart pounded and waves of nausea swept over her. Taking herself into the Combine’s territory was terrifying. Judging by the massive attack on the cabin, the Felicia Seven branch of the crime organization had restored itself efficiently and in force. She glanced at Marcus and bit her lip. He’d protect her with his life but she didn’t want things to come to that, so she hoped he was right he had a safe place for them to hide, and his friend would be able to assist.
Marcus drove into a high end district close to the spaceport and pulled into the sweeping driveway of one of the top hotels on the planet.
“What are you doing? We don’t belong here.” She spread her hands, gesturing at her dusty, torn top and utility pants. “The management will throw us out.”
“Well, I’m sure there’ll be raised eyebrows at my antique groundcar, but the staff of the Baredjim Interplanetary Suites knows better than to take anyone at face value. A generational billionaire can wear tattered clothing and drive a heap. My credit balance will speak for me. I accessed accounts Gramps had hidden and let’s just say we couldn’t stay here forever but we can afford a week or so.”
“Even I’ve heard of them - Baredjim is the most expensive hotel chain in the Sectors, right?”
“Angel, not only can we afford it, thanks to my grandfather’s generosity, we’re taking one of the best suites in the house.” He handed her out of the groundcar and then retrieved their two packs. The human valet took the car away without a blink.
Marcus escorted her into the lobby, despite her qualms. She stood silently while he registered them, and clung to his arm as the gravlift carried her aloft by his side. As soon as the door closed behind them and they were alone in the gorgeous suite with an eagle eye view of the city, he tossed the packs onto the gold and white couch and drew her close for a kiss.
“I could use a bath—how about you? The desk clerk told me there’s a hot tub big enough for us to share,” he said teasingly. “We’re both covered in dust from the tunnel collapse.”
She ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the feel of the heavy strands, so unlike her own. “Please, tell me why we’re here?”
“Fair enough. Part of what makes this place so expensive is their guarantee no guest will have his or her security compromised. The place has AI’s, highly trained security forces, even D’nvannae Brothers on staff to ensure no one is bothered in any way within these walls. Team guys go to work for Baredjim on occasion, handling security detail after they retire from the service. Top notch organization.” He drew her into the bedroom as he talked and sat on the end of the massive bed, positioning her between his knees. “I’m not risking you by taking you to the first meeting with my old friend. I need a lot of written assurances about your safety and status as a victim before I take you anywhere the SCIA could get their hands on you. I’d like to talk to a lawyer first as well. But I can’t leave you anywhere the Combine can easily access you while I’m gone.” He waved his hand. “This place is a fortress, and I’ll have as much peace of mind as I’m going to get when I’m not by your side to defend you myself.” He scanned her face. “Is the idea okay with you? You seem uncomfortable—you’re supposed to talk to me when you have doubts, remember?”
“We used to stay at hotels for the most part when we traveled on Combine assignments. Hotels don’t have good associations for me, not even ones as high end as this one.”
“I never thought about that.” Frowning, he glanced at the room as if seeing its appointments for the first time. “I was strictly operating from a need to have you stashed somewhere relatively safe. I can’t see Sam until tomorrow morning—he’s out of coms reach—and when I do go to his office, I won’t be able to concentrate if I’m not sure I left you in a safe place.” He studied her expression. “We tried hiding at a remote, isolated location and look how that worked out.”
“And I regret the loss of the cabin,” she said. “But we did have two precious days of freedom there.”
“Yes, we did. I’m sure once I’ve seen Sam face to face and gotten assurances about your status we’ll be moved to a safe house while events settle out. So you won’t be here long.”
“Leave me a blaster,” she said, forcing herself to smile since Marcus was so concerned about her being happy with the arrangements he’d made. “I have my powers but there are five percent of humans I can’t affect, according to the Combine. Blasters work on everyone, right?”
“Energy weapons kill the good and the bad just as easily,” he said.
“All right then.” She freed herself from his embrace and took one of his hands. “I believe you mentioned a bath?”
Hand in hand they wandered into the huge bathroom together and she exclaimed over the gigantic tub. “It’s like a small pond.”
“Warmer, with less seaweed and no curious fish,” he said with a laugh. “Shall we take a dip before dinner?”
“Absolutely.”
They undressed each other with much laughter, kissing and intimate touches while the tub filled with water set to a mutually agreeable temperature. The bath lasted so long Marcus had to ask the AI to refresh the water twice to keep it from going too cold. Eventually he wrapped her in a huge, fluffy blue towel with the hotel’s crest and adjourned to the bed.
Much later, after a room service dinner containing many courses because Marcus insisted she try a bite of numerous delicacies, they went to bed and cuddled while the AI ran a trideo newsfeed.
“Nothing about the cabin,” Marcus said finally, flicking the control to shut off the programming. “Or us. I wondered if Mrs. Trang might have filed a police complaint.”
“The Combine works in the shadows.”
“Was she Combine?” he asked. “You never mentioned that.”
“I don’t know for sure, but anyone running an operation like hers would have to be connected to some degree.” Based on her four years’ worth of hard won knowledge on how the syndicate worked, Carialle had no doubt. “She’d rather get them to wipe us out quietly and hope to preserve her clinics.”
“Which isn’t going to happen, not after I get done talking to Sam tomorrow.” Gently Marcus shifted her aside, putting her against the pillows before he slid off the bed. “There’s something I need to give you.”
“A gift? When did you have time to buy me a present in all our crazy adventures?” She clasped her arms over her knees. “It’s not my birthday. Is there a major Sectors holiday I should know about?”
He gave the pack a scowl. “This thing is getting ratty and way too dusty to be
on the bed with us.”
“Not to mention it was Dobkin’s.” Carialle repressed a shudder.
“Even more reason to get rid of it.” He picked the old backpack up from the floor and set it on the table beside the windows. “To address your question, I didn’t buy anything and no, this isn’t a holiday.” He dug through the contents, searching for whatever he intended to give her.
When he turned, he had a small wooden box in his hand and his expression as he walked toward the bed was anxious. “I hope you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it.” She resisted the urge to read his aura.
Pausing next to the bed, he said, “It’s fine with me if you want to check my colors. I don’t want you to ever stop being yourself—I love you exactly the way you are. I just wanted you to promise to talk to me if you’re ever unsure about me or us.”
“I remember.” She smiled and sent a tendril of her power to see what his mood was—happy but anxious apparently.
He sat on the bed. “Hold out your hand.”
She did as he requested and he put the now open box into her palm. Juggling it a bit, she gasped. “How beautiful!” The box held a ring, with a large white stone in the center, flanked by two diamonds on either side. Carialle had never seen anything like the center stone before, with coruscating flashes of blue, green and red color under the milky surface. As she tilted the box this way and that, different colors dominated. “Stunning—the red is the exact color of our love.”
Marcus took the box from her hand and removed the ring, setting the container aside. “This was my grandmother’s. The stone is an opal, from Old Earth. My family was First Ship on Felicia Seven and the legend is the ring belonged to the actual Felicia, brought with her from Earth on the colony vessel, and passed down over the generations.”
“First Ship? Like nobility?”
He laughed. “Maybe on more status-conscious planets. Means my ancestors were among the crew of the first ship to claim and colonize this planet. The captain was my many times great grandfather, as a matter of fact, so he had the privilege of naming the star. Although it has a long scientific name as well.” He studied the ring for a moment. “I believed this was gone, lost maybe when my grandmother died, but then I uncovered the box in Gramps’s safe when we were evacuating this morning. I know he’d want you to have it.”
“I’d be honored to wear it.” The ring appealed to her as no other piece of jewelry ever had. The colors entranced her and seemed so perfect, both in terms of who and what she was—a seer of colors—and as a symbol of their relationship as well. She held out her hand.
Marcus took it and she was astonished to feel a slight tremor in his. “Carialle, will you marry me? I know I’m rushing things,” he said before she could utter a syllable, “But after what we said to each other today, I want to make sure you never have doubts of me ever again. I want to give you all the reassurance you need.”
She stroked his cheek with her hand and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips. “You worry too much, my warrior. No one can break the link between us. I have no need of rings or outward symbols, although I very much want to marry you.”
“That’s a yes, then?”
Carialle nodded.
With a whoop he hugged her and then slid the ring on her left hand, where it fit perfectly.
“I do have a gift, of sorts, for you,” she said, when the long and involved kiss that followed his putting the ring on her finger ended. She left the bed to grab her pack, opening it while he watched in puzzled silence. “Close your eyes.”
Obediently he did as she asked and held out his hand. She placed the pipe across his palm and closed his fingers on the stem. “I saved this for you today.”
She observed a hint of moisture in his eyes as he examined the pipe. “Gramps was never without it—thank you, angel.”
“I—I thought we saw him, the night we fought through the rukauntir together. You said his name at the end. There was a scent in the air, a whiff of something—the smoke from this perhaps? I know we had help from outside of ourselves and I assumed it was Thuun. I know it was Thuun for me but perhaps the shade of your grandfather came for you as well.” Carialle debated for a moment and said, “I gave you another gift as well. At least I hope it was a gift.”
Head tilted, Marcus raised one eyebrow. “I don’t remember. If it was when I was out of it—”
“It was when you were first brought to the clinic. Before I knew I had to rescue you.” She drew him to sit next to her on the bed. “I hope I did the right thing.”
“I’m sure anything you did for me in Trang’s hellhole was right.” He put one arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “Tell me.”
“Most of the time when the toranquidol was wearing off, you’d raise a fuss, demanding to be set free.”
He nodded. “I remember. If I ever meet the bastard in charge of the injects again, he’s a dead man.”
“I saw how he treated you. The way he talked and acted was unforgivable.”
“A sadistic, petty tyrant, who took pleasure in the fact I couldn’t get loose to defend myself. Yeah, Mrs. Trang hired some real pieces of work. My fiancée excepted.” Smiling, he kissed her forehead.
“Other times you’d go into rages, fighting the restraints and convinced you were imprisoned by the Mawreg,” she said.
“Yeah.” Color rising in his cheeks showed how embarrassed the admission made him. Jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek, Marcus focused on the far wall instead of her. “Lotta guys have problems after combat, flashbacks and whatnot, it’s pretty common.”
“And you have those issues, like any other warrior who’s seen terrible things and done what he had to do to defend his people,” she said. “No shame there, no judgment, my love. But this was different.”
“Different how?”
“I believe the Mawreg infused something into you, so deep you didn’t consciously know it was there. Neither did your military doctors.” She spread her hands and fumbled for the explanation. “I’d never seen anything like it. Three pools of oily, dead black and underneath the surface there were colors I have no name for, morphing and moving and trying to spread into the rest of you, take you over perhaps.”
Marcus sprang to his feet and paced. “Are you saying the enemy planted a parasite? Because I’m getting fucking unnerved here, I won’t deny it.”
“Not a physical parasite as you’d define it, no. But your captors left something anchored in your mind.”
“I was positive something was wrong with me after I was rescued, I knew it, but no one would listen.” He slammed his fisted hand against the palm of the other. “I felt it.” He swung around to stare at her. “You shouldn’t be near me—we don’t have any idea what those alien bastards might have planted in my head. I won’t risk hurting you.”
She left the bed and went to him, forcing him to accept her hug. “No, listen to me. You were fighting it, battling hard. Your mind had constructed barriers enclosing the implants and you were trying to destroy them. I simply added my own power to the fight.”
His arms were holding her like bands of steel. “Tell me you succeeded. Tell me I’m not contaminated or a time bomb or…or I don’t know what.”
She framed Marcus’s face with her hands and pulled his head down until she was nose to nose with him. “The black is gone, I give you my word before Thuun, this is the truth.”
He searched her face for a long moment. “I trust you. Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Because there were more pressing issues facing us, especially since the implants were destroyed.”
“I shouldn’t have been rescued from the Mawreg,” he said.
Immediately she protested but he kissed her into silence. Resting his head on the top of hers, Marcus sighed. “Team guys like me have a Mellurean mind implant for suicide—the checkout code, we call it—we’re under orders to use if we’re captured.”
“Who gives a terrible order like that t
o loyal warriors?” Her own aura would be nothing but flaming anger on his behalf right now.
“It’s ok, it’s justified. It’s a condition every man and woman agrees to before joining the Teams. We know too much, have too much top secret tech, implants and other things. The enemy can’t be allowed to have live…specimens. So I should have died, should have killed myself.” He snapped his fingers. “Gone in the blink of an eye. Painless, or so I was assured. Why anyone would care about a flash of pain, in a last ditch situation is beyond me. There was a lot of polite puzzlement when I was rescued but I guess eventually Command and the medicos decided I’d been too traumatized and out of it to use the code or to be a source of information for the Mawreg. And I wasn’t exactly sane when I was extracted from the experimentation camp. Rescued fairly soon after my capture so the authorities wrote it off and cleared me to be rehabbed and processed out of the military.” He gazed into her eyes and his voice shook ever so slightly. “What if the thing the Mawreg put into my mind was to block the code? The bastards know they can’t keep Special Forces soldiers alive long enough to interrogate—what if I was an experiment in preventing our deaths?”
“Then the experiment failed.”
“I’m alive, aren’t I?” His tone was bleak and she understood he was judging himself harshly.
“But your mind was fighting their efforts. You’d walled off the infestation and were actively fighting it. I came along and added my special power to the battle, my ability to fight the essence of what they’d created on its own terms, but you hadn’t given up, no matter what the enemy did to you.” She hugged him and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “You survived and came back to report the problem. We’ll report it together, and explain how we defeated it. Valuable information for your Sectors no one else has. You’ll see. These Mellureans who created your checkout code will certainly understand what we have to say.”
“Maybe there’s a way to weaponize what the Mawreg used on me. Turn it on them and drop the stuff on its creators when the slimy fuckers least expect it.”
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