Morgan's Return

by Greta van Der Rol

  She dismounted and turned around, her backside raised for him. He plunged into her, smooth as a piston, his strokes long and deep. "Oh, yes, Ashkar," she moaned, pressing back against his pressure. Oh, so good, so unbelievably good. She wiggled against him, aware of his weight, his control. Just a little more, just a little faster. He knew what she wanted as soon as she had the thought. He rammed, hard and fast, and then the dam of desire burst, flooding her emotions so she cried out, while her body bucked. He grasped her thighs, pulling her hard back against him, groaning as he came.

  When the spasms finally settled, he drew back and sat on the bed, panting. She rolled over onto her back and laid a hand on his thigh. "Nice."

  "Always." He turned and brushed a kiss on her lips. "There's no one else but you. There never will be."

  Her eyes filled. "You're the only man I'll ever love. You'll never, never need to be jealous. No-one else meant anything to me."

  Smiling he nodded. "All in the past, all over. So when we get back home, you'll marry me?"

  Oh, fuck. Not that again. "I love you. We can talk about what happens next when we get back home."

  She'd fobbed him off and he knew it, she could tell by the tiny sniff, the rueful smile quickly hidden. "And now we'd better shower and meet our hosts downstairs."

  ***

  Food. Delicious odors drifted through from a dining room off the main foyer. Eastly, clean, scrubbed, and smelling of cologne, met them at the lift and escorted them to the table, where Partridge rose from his seat. He'd lost the piqued look, seeming fully recovered. "Please, sit."

  Morgan and Ravindra sat opposite each other at a table covered with a white cloth. Soft light glinted from golden cutlery. The wonderful smells came from a large tureen in the center of the table, and a basket full of rolls.

  A mature woman with dark hair scraped back into a knot appeared from a side room to serve, deftly ladling thick, creamy soup into deep bowls.

  "It's a local delicacy," Partridge said. "We've asked cook to modify the recipe a little. Being from off-world, you might not tolerate all the spices. I hope you enjoy it."

  "I'm sure I will." Morgan reached for a roll. It wouldn't be to Ravindra's taste. He preferred his food spicy, the sort that cleaned your sinuses. He might find it a bit bland.

  Eastly poured golden wine into tall goblets.

  Partridge raised his glass. "To you. Without your help, we would have found nothing, or I would have died, or the Trimasi would have captured us."

  Eastly wriggled, his glass in his hand. "And… er… I want to say I'm sorry. I was an ass."

  Ravindra's eyebrow cocked.

  "You were, a bit," Morgan said. Turning to Partridge, she raised her glass. "But then, without you, Derryn, we wouldn't have known where to go. So thanks." She sipped the wine. It looked better than it tasted, bland and featureless.

  Partridge cleared his throat. "Well. Let's eat. I'm sure you're hungry."

  Morgan accepted a second small bowl of soup. It really was a delicious concoction, with subtle hints of tastes she didn't recognize, probably the local spices.

  The same woman who had served returned to clear the plates. When she'd gone, Partridge leaned his elbows on the table and supported his chin on his linked hands. "What now?"

  "We must join our crew back at the hotel," Ravindra said. "I feel I have found what I sought."

  Partridge said nothing for a few heartbeats. Then his eyelids hooded. "And what was that?"

  Morgan's nerves tingled. Partridge was probing. What was he getting at?

  "Where my ancestors came from." Ravindra answered calmly, not affected by Partridge's demeanor.

  "Look, I can't begin to say how grateful I am to both of you for what you've done and please believe me, I mean you no harm. But who are you? Really?"

  Ravindra shrugged. "What we said. I'm an ex-admiral from a planet outside your human Coalition. Marion is my consort and my engineer."

  Consort. Humph.

  Morgan couldn't help noticing the exchanged glance between Partridge and Eastly. Were they suspicious?

  "You called her Morgan," Eastly said. "More than once."

  "Did I?" Ravindra put his hands palm-down on the table.

  "Yes. You spoke in your language, but I'm sure. Is that her real name?"

  "Yes, it is," Morgan said. "Does it matter?"

  Partridge raised a hand. "No, it doesn't matter. Take no notice. We're just curious. Ravindra is an incredibly powerful man, and you can do things with the submarine and a skimmer that I wouldn't have believed possible." His eyes widened for a split second, then he lifted his glass and sipped at his wine.

  Oh fuck. He'd guessed. "I'm a qualified military engineer, Derryn. You're very kind but I didn't do anything any of my colleagues couldn't have accomplished. Trust me. The Coalition military training is second to none."

  "Of course." Lifting the bottle in one hand, Partridge made a show of smiling. "More wine?"

  "Thanks, but no." She avoided looking at Ravindra. Fuck it, she didn't like the idea of them knowing what she was. Her stomach roiled with nerves. "I think it's about time we left. Don't you, Ashkar?"

  "It is." He rose to his feet, and thanked Partridge for the meal. "Your skimmer?"

  "Of course." Partridge stood, and escorted them out to the vehicle. The planet's large moon was in the sky, floating behind misty high cloud. Its light silvered the bushes, glinted off the rocks. The surf boomed in the distance, and a breeze stirred Morgan's hair. With her visual capability increased to chase away the shadows, she followed Partridge to the vehicle, crunching over the gravel drive.

  Partridge laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm guessing you're a Supertech. We don't have them here, and I know it's dangerous for you if the Trimasi find out. I assure you they won't, not from us." He gestured to include Eastly. "I'm sure you have a fascinating story to tell, and I hope one day I'll hear it. But I'm content to wait." He spoke softly, almost whispering.

  "Thanks, Derryn. But like I said, I'm just a military engineer. If I told any of the Supertechs I've met that you put me in their class, they'd laugh."

  His lips twitched. "Whatever you say." In a louder voice he added, "Bring back the skimmer tomorrow. Low tide is at mid-morning."

  Morgan slipped into the pilot's seat while Ravindra settled into the passenger's position. After a swift pre-check, Morgan lifted the skimmer off, angling away from the house and over the ocean. The water looked liked molten metal in the moonlight, dark with silver crests, and the islands were mounds of darkness. Except, away on the horizon, one island blazed with light.

  "The temple?" Ravindra asked.

  "Uh-huh."

  Ravindra pulled out his comlink, turned it on, inspected the screen and growled a Manesai swear word.

  "What's the matter?" He rarely swore; admirals didn't swear.

  "There's a call from Prasad. In your language."

  Oh, shit. Prasad would never leave a message in Standard.

  Chapter 22

  Ellen parked her ship as close to Vulsaur as she could arrange, one layer down, three to the left. The station had been a little suspicious of a military class vehicle, but Ellen had insisted that the vessel didn't carry any armaments and made sure they wouldn't find any. She was a commercial pilot, Jane Dorset, and the ship was hers, a lifelong ambition she'd been able to fulfill when a rich relative was killed. She'd named the ship Nemesis. Just her little joke. Going through Immigration, Ellen hadn't tried to hide her Coalition implant, but kept her Supertech status secret. A minority of Ushas's residents used a cranial implant, but a larger minority were apparently dead set against any such technology. Admitting to being a Supertech on this planet wasn't a good idea. Naturally, Selwood would have done the same thing.

  Ellen paid the docking fees at the station's immigration service. No, she wasn't staying long, a few weeks' holiday was all. According to the arrivals database, all of Vulsaur's complement had gone down to the planet, address registered as a seaside resort. Very
nice.

  Now was the time to try for a look at Vulsaur's drives. Then she'd go and find Selwood and her delicious mate. Her mouth watered at the thought of Ravindra. He'd become a favorite in her nightly virtual games, a harsh lover with somewhat brutal taste. She cleared her throat. Later, Ellen. She accessed the station's database and stole the identity of one of the station's maintenance staff, a supervising engineer by the name of Theebald, who had access to the whole station and could enter any dock. Even if the visit was logged, it hardly mattered. To her, anyway.

  Having completed the formalities, Ellen returned to Nemesis for her exo-suit. Vulsaur would be airless. Why waste air on nothing, after all? She took the transit to the level where Vulsaur was docked, then used the travelator to reach the docking bay. The gates were locked, of course, but Theebald's code opened them. The gates slid aside. Now for the airlock.

  Inside the airlock, she slid the helmet up out of the suit's housing and over her head, where the seals clicked into place, then started the release sequence. The system ran through the usual safety checks, waiting for her response before proceeding. Yes, she did know the ship was in vacuum, yes she really was suited up. The air sucked out, the gauges wound down from green to red.

  "Locks releasing."

  Ellen stepped out of the lock and started to rise. Her nerves jangled, then settled. Selwood had switched off the artificial gravity, which meant this ship was in long-term storage mode. Dragging herself hand over hand, she floated along to Vulsaur's hatch. Selwood had set up impressive security. You'd need to be a Supertech to get into this ship. Just as well that's what she was. Even then, it took minutes. Selwood was likely to realize, too. Except she, Ellen, would ensure the bitch would never get a chance to check.

  She floated through into the living areas, not needing to be there, but curious. Would there be any hint of Ravindra here? She knew what he looked like, the sound of his voice, but that was all, a cardboard cutout. Along a corridor from the common room, she opened doors, glanced inside. This was the captain's, containing a picture cube of him with a wife and children. She was about to move on when something struck her. She went back and picked up the cube. The eyes were strange. All their eyes. They had no whites and the pupils weren't round. A tingle of excitement sizzled down her spine. They'd been genetically modified. Would it be just the captain and his family, or the rest of them, too?

  The next room was the other woman's, devoid of pictures. Ellen opened the bedside cupboard. Nothing personal beyond toiletries. And what was this? She picked up a round case small enough to fit easily in her palm and flipped the lid open. Viscous fluid sloshed. A pair of soft, semi-circular objects lay inside. They looked a bit like eyes. Yes, whites with round, colored lenses. And tiny processors set into the lenses. Contact lenses. She put the container back where she'd found it. This woman, Jirra, must be wearing contact lenses, though. Ellen flicked back through her pictures of the crew, taken from Iniciara's systems and the ones here at Ushas. No strange eyes. Perhaps they'd brought spares, or the woman had brought a set in a different color? Perhaps she'd left them here by accident.

  A search of her databases for societies where the people had strange eyes revealed nothing. Sure, artificial eyes. There was a reference to Supertechs in that article, as well as replacement eyes for people who had lost their sight or had a need to see extra frequencies. It was possible, she supposed, that a non-Coalition planet may not have been recorded, but this was the military database. Intel didn't miss much.

  The next cabin was Prasad's. Ellen had him on her personal database, too, although he wasn't as gorgeous as Ravindra. Not as tall, didn't have that same animal magnetism, but he was certainly decorative all the same. She smiled, remembering an interesting threesome she'd had with the two of them on Playmate. Prasad had been much gentler than the admiral. A fun mix. She went back to rifling through the closet. Not much to see, just some spare clothes. They'd obviously taken most of their belongings with them.

  Even less to see in the servant's quarters, which was smaller than the other cabins.

  This last, much larger cabin must be Ravindra's. The very thought made her squirm. A sitting room held three chairs around a low table. Display screens hung on the walls. Ellen opened a door and drifted through to the bedroom, which sported a large double bed, bedside tables, closet, and a separate bathroom. She ran a hand over the blanket and imagined him lying here. Naked. Unbidden, Selwood's mocking face rose in her mind, the silver eyes gleaming like mercury. Selwood shared this bed with him. The thought put Ellen's teeth on edge. What had Selwood done to deserve a man like him? So much for her talk of despising rank. Hypocrite.

  "Ah, bloody hell." Ellen spoke the words aloud. Best do what she'd come for and get out of here. Selwood would get what she deserved soon enough.

  Ellen pushed off from the floor and floated along the corridor aft, past the common room and the galley. The last hatch, the one allowing access to the engine room, held her up for a few moments. Selwood's security again, this time a more complex pattern. But security had to be accessible by ordinary mortals in the end. She found the override condition and triggered its operation. Sure, Selwood would be warned… Now there was a thought. Why chase the woman all over the planet? Ellen could have Selwood come here.

  Grinning, she went through the hatch into the engine room, intent on a look at that shift drive and its systems. The warning signs on the drive's cover were written in a language she didn't understand, but the meaning was obvious, anyway. Ignoring the locks, she inspected the mechanics. Not so very different from the shift drive they'd fitted to the old Curlew, except for the gearing and the secondary impeller. Clever. Two that rotated around each other, like a dance. She would never have thought of it. How was it controlled? She brought up the drive's schematic from the ship's information systems and traced the logic circuits.

  "Don't make any sudden moves. Turn around, very slowly."

  Her heart racing, Ellen's head hit the inside lining of her helmet. How had she missed somebody coming in? She floated around in a semi-circle, coming face to face with a figure suited up as she was, but this one held a pistol in one gloved hand. Judging by the voice, the new arrival was female, and judging by the suit, she was security. The woman knew what she was doing, too, braced in the hatch, out of reach.

  "Sorry. You startled me. Can I help you?" Ellen stayed polite. Maybe she could bluff her way out of this?

  "Entrance records show your entry to this ship as Chief Theebald. Who you quite clearly are not." The woman gestured with the pistol. "Out. Onto the dock. And don't do anything stupid."

  Damn damn damn. Ellen couldn't afford to be caught. How could she have been so careless? The woman had eased away from the hatch to let Ellen through, but the weapon was trained and ready. Ellen pulled herself along the corridor, hand over hand.

  "Into the airlock. And make no mistake, I will shoot."

  Yes, and it might not kill, since the pistol was set to low power, but it would hurt. A lot. Ellen forced down the rising panic that made her palms sweat. If the woman had called for backup, it would be all over. One thing she could do. The thought made her gag, but she had no choice. She'd done this twice before, put on enough pressure to make a bully sick. Both times, she'd saved herself from physical harm, and this was self defense, too.

  She concentrated her Supertech mind on the other woman's implant, bombarded it with transactions, twisted the medical alert systems.

  The security woman started to twitch, her eyes widened. The pistol clattered to the floor, while around them, air rushed in and the gauges changed from red to orange. Her jaw opening and closing, the woman lunged at Ellen, grabbing her arms. Fighting down rising nausea, Ellen bombarded her adversary with data. The woman's grip eased. She vomited in the helmet, covering the inside with an oozing, sagging, red-tinged mess. Just as the airlock hatch released, the woman's eyes rolled up and she sagged to the ground.

  Her heart thundering, Ellen dragged the body out, erasing
all signs of her system intrusion as she did so. She had to get out of here. Withdrawing the helmet into the suit, she sprinted for the gate out of the dock, while her implant excised all reference to Chief Theebald's presence here. Boots clattered on the walkway just as she stepped onto the travelator. Security guards, four of them. Her heart rate slowed. It would be a mysterious death, a failure in the woman's health monitoring functions.

  Ellen stopped at a bar, and found a seat in a corner booth. The menu rose from the tabletop, offering an assortment of snacks and drinks. She pushed the option to talk to an operator. "I'm from off world. Do you have some sort of brandy?"

  They did. An attractive young man set a glass with a shot of amber fluid in the bottom, on the table in front of her. When he'd gone away she lifted the glass with a trembling hand, and threw the lot down in one hit.

  Chapter 23

  Morgan slowed the skimmer down. "What did Prasad's message say?"

  Ravindra glanced at her. "Asked me to call him. They've been arrested, I'd say."

  "I reckon. How do you want to play this?"

  "They'll be waiting for us at the landing pad. But they won't be expecting this machine." He tapped his fingers together. "I would think our people are already gone, taken somewhere. That island back there, perhaps. But we can't be sure."

  "So we land somewhere else, go into the hotel grounds through the gardens, see if we can find out what happened to them."

  "Perhaps not go and look. Can you tap into the hotel's systems from outside?"

  "Sure."

  "Well, then."

  Morgan checked the map, searching for the best place to set down. Somewhere close to the hotel, but not where the skimmer would stand out. The entertainment precinct close to the resort was a good idea. A strip of restaurants and clubs lined a roadway near the beach, just along from the hotel's grounds. They were advertised in the rooms, places to go for a break from the resort. She flew the skimmer overhead, checking for anything unusual. The place was moderately busy. Couples strolled along the footpaths, and the tables outside the cafés were doing a good trade. The thumping music coming from a club could be heard even up here.