by Debra Jess
She watched Dace as he and his team locked the hangar for the night before motioning that she should leave the landing pad with them. She hit her ear jack, calling up the directory for Facility Prime. Daeven might not be able to talk to her, but she knew someone who would.
Next thing she knew, she stood at Yohzad's door, slapping the annunciator. The polite thing would have been to comm him first, make sure he was home and didn't have any guests before announcing her arrival. Oh, well. She'd just have to live with the embarrassment if it turned out he was otherwise occupied.
Yohzad's voice called from the tiny speaker. "One moment, my dear, while I make myself presentable."
Tamarja smiled, relaxing at the smoothness of his voice. The door dissolved, revealing Yohzad. Her eyes widened at seeing him for the first time out of uniform. The loose-fitting gym clothes looked sexier than his uniform ever had. He still smelled good, though, fresh from the shower.
She noticed something else as well and frowned. "You cut your hair."
Yohzad ran his fingers through the still thick but much shorter locks. "Yes…yes, I did. The director suggested I might try a little harder to meet Manitac regulations during the trade talks. Don't like it, do you?"
"No, it makes you look like one of them."
The grin he gave her had the look of an apology. He motioned her into his apartment. It spanned much larger than her own. Abstract artwork and a few succulent plants decorated it, and it boasted a view pane similar to the one in the director's office, but facing the opposite direction—toward where the sun would set.
"So what brings you here?"
"Curiosity. What happened on the roof this afternoon?"
"Ah, yes, our little breach of security." He offered her a drink from his bar. She started to shake her head but changed her mind, taking the glass. "Not really something I should discuss with you."
"You should, if you want me to keep an eye out for anything unusual, I need to know what's usual."
"This wasn't usual," Yohzad assured her, motioning her toward a sofa. She sat at one end as he settled on the other.
"Maybe not, but you'll tell me anyway."
Yohzad swirled his drink in the glass, not looking at her. "A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing."
"I know." Tamarja leaned back, letting her head rest on the sofa, and sighed. "The problem is that I have no knowledge. None at all. I have my flying, and I have basic, everyday living skills, but that's it." Her voice took an accusing tone. "Things that you and the director and Jita take for granted. Things you can put into context of the life you're living. I have no knowledge, no memory. I need to know what's going on if you want me to spy for you."
Before answering, Yohzad took a long swallow from his glass. "You're right, you're absolutely right. I'll try to do better to keep you informed." He paused, looking away from her. "Someone tried smuggling themselves onto Dawn's Landing."
"Smuggling themselves? Why?"
"Security believes they were trying to hook up with the Black Wave ring. The director's nightmare is that word may leak about a new psychoactive drug on this planet and that someone will crash her little party and start smuggling it off world."
Tamarja thought about that. "Sounds like an awful lot of trouble to smuggle drugs off world. Wouldn't it be easier to recruit someone already on Dawn's Landing? I'm sure there must be some disgruntled employees who would be willing to make a little extra on the side." She thought of the argument she'd overheard at the Teloris'. Ianyin had seemed accepting of the status quo, but his friend was not happy with the way the director did business.
Yohzad pointed a long finger at her. "Correct, my dear. I knew I had chosen well when I selected you for this experiment."
Tamarja winced at the reminder, but Yohzad was no longer paying attention to her, instead standing to get another drink. She hadn't even touched hers and realized she'd never intended to.
"I believe—and this stays just between you and me"—he glanced back at Tamarja for confirmation, which she gave—"that the individual who tried passing herself off as a delegate is a Shadow."
"The rebel group?"
"So you know about them?" Yohzad sat back down, eyeing her closely. She refused to shrink under the scrutiny.
"I listen to the ‘cast ’net. The news reports say they're trying to destroy Manitac."
"True enough, though the situation is a little more complicated than that." Yohzad took another sip of his drink. "They're opposed to one corporation controlling space travel. They're opposed to one corporation controlling just about everything associated with space travel. They've been trying for ages to bring down the Manitac behemoth, but with very little success."
"Why would they want to smuggle someone onto Dawn's Landing? I thought the colony was too new to be turning a profit."
Yohzad finished off his drink. "That is what I'm going to find out tomorrow. Security will get first crack at interrogating the prisoner. Then, if necessary, I'll take over."
Tamarja said nothing, realizing she had started swirling her drink in her glass, just as Yohzad had. She stopped when she noticed he was staring at her.
"Is there something you need to tell me?"
She thought about it. Spies, drug smuggling, rebel groups. What did she know about such things? The flash from the mountain could be anything. She should tell him, but she held back. Would he believe her? Would he want proof? What would he do with the information if it did turn out to be a problem? Without thinking about what she was doing, she reached behind her neck to feel the nubs of her collar.
Nagrit, however, hadn't seen it, and Dace seemed to think it was just a science team on a routine field mission. She needed more information, more information so she wouldn't send Yohzad chasing shadows.
She shook her head to answer his question. "No, nothing to tell. I'm just thinking of all the things I need to learn about if I'm going to survive on this world."
He reached over to pat her leg, a friendly "atta girl" gesture, at the same time as she crossed her arm with his to place her drink on the claffien table. They bumped together in a clumsy, accidental way that almost caused her to drop her glass. Yohzad grabbed her wrist to steady her hand. Strong and smooth, the feel of his hand wrapped around hers, ignited her craving to feel a real man in her arms, not just in her dreams. She lowered the glass to the table before wrapping an arm around Yohzad and pulling him into a powerful kiss.
She could taste the alcohol on his breath, the sharpness of the drink on his tongue. She didn't care. This was real and she had control. He didn't resist as she pushed him back, running her hands along his chest, then under his shirt, finding taut muscles along this torso.
His hands were also busy, having lost his glass as well, pulling her hips so she lay on top of him. She straddled his legs, giving her better leverage on the couch, pushing her tongue deeper into his mouth. He ran his hands up the back of her uniform, stopping at her shoulders, massaging the tense muscles that contracted under his skilled fingers.
One hand left her shoulders to stroke her hair, wrapping around her curls. Disengaging the tangles, he brushed her collar with his fingers and sent shock waves riding along her sensitive nerves. His caress of the metal stubs sticking out of her neck brought them both crashing into the reality of what they were doing.
She looked into his dark-brown eyes.
His breath rasped, cooling the skin exposed at her neck. "I think…we should stop."
Still panting, she nodded and crawled off him. Quickly as she could, she straightened her uniform and ran her fingers through her hair.
Yohzad fixed his own clothes, but he stopped to grab her elbow as she turned to leave. "We'll talk about this. Just not right now."
Not ready to test her voice, she nodded again. Unwilling to give herself another moment to change her mind and tackle him again, she ran for the door, almost crashing into it before it dissolved. Her escape didn't feel complete until the door reformed behind her.
&nbs
p; Yohzad stood still long after Tamarja had exited.
"Now this," he said to the empty apartment, "presents an interesting complication."
He rubbed his fingers over his lips, considering the implications of what had just happened. Simple loneliness on Tamarja's part, or did she actually remember something? Something between them, some feelings she still couldn't place? Perhaps he should move up his timeline and show her the ship he had bought for her? If anything would stir her memories, it would be that ship.
His comm chimed, interrupting his thoughts. "Yes," he called, activating the receiver. He listened to the disgruntled voice at the other end.
More complications.
"I'm on my way."
Turning off the comm, Yohzad retreated to his bedroom to find his uniform.
Tamarja collapsed on her bed after nearly ripping off her clothes. What had she done?
Pulling the covers over her naked body, she shivered as she thought of Yohzad. He'd been drinking, but she hadn't. He was her parole officer, and he had power over her. He could kill her with a flick of a finger.
Was she really that attracted to him? What about Daeven? There was no denying she wanted him too, and at least she was free to pursue him—if she could figure out why he only seemed to care about her when she was unconscious.
Flipping onto her back, she slammed her head against the pillow. She needed to sleep. She needed to forget. She needed to apologize to Yohzad.
First thing tomorrow she would. In person. Someplace neutral.
Then she would get back to work. She needed to fly, needed to learn. She needed to find something to give Yohzad to show him she was still a part of his team.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she let her aroused body relax. Sleep, that was what she needed. She let her eyes close and let her dreams take over.
Before long, her dream ‘pet returned and took care of the rest.
Chapter Seventeen
Security, always a discreet presence at Facility Prime, made themselves prominent at every turn. The number of guards hanging around every entrance and exit made her feel as if she were back on Bregarlos, always being watched. The guards questioned everyone, even those who had clearance to various stations. Tamarja, grateful for Yohzad's warning from the night before, calmly answered questions she would have stammered over otherwise.
The guards standing in front of the lift leading to the roof seemed especially interested in her choice of flight patterns both during the raid on Shuttle Six and her tour with Daeven. Twice she had flown over Habitat Twenty-Two without clearance. Why? She smiled as sweetly as she could while giving them their answers. That's me, just a simple shuttle pilot doing as best she could under the circumstances. I'm not dangerous, honest I'm not. Just check out my collar if you think I'm dangerous.
She didn't say that, of course. Something else had to have happened last night to stir the security frenzy, something more than an attempted drug smuggling operation, something Yohzad either hadn't known about yet or had decided not to tell her. She would like to think it was the former, but the latter wouldn't surprise her either. Would Yohzad ever give her his complete trust?
She didn't like her own answer to that question, so she ignored it and focused on her interrogation. Even the suspected presence of a Shadow shouldn't have caused such an obvious lockdown. Wouldn't security want their investigation to be more circumspect?
She dropped her smile as soon as the guards released her. Not that I should care about how security conducts its business. I have enough problems of my own. I don't need to borrow theirs, she thought, clearing the final checkpoint leading to the roof. Just as well I can't find Yohzad this morning. With the mood I'm in right now, I wouldn't be able to find the words to apologize anyway. A formal apology would have him rolling his eyes, and he wouldn't take a casual one seriously.
She needed to give him a gift of information, something to prove she could be trusted, that she wouldn't let her feelings get in the way of getting the job done. She had already proved herself as a pilot; now she had to prove herself as a spy. The more valuable she proved to him, the better her chances of keeping her job and staying out of deep freeze.
Spotting Dace working the port side of the director's shuttle, which shined and sparkled in the morning sun, Tamarja flung away her resentments as she raised her arm in greeting. "Morning!" she called, loud enough to be heard over the wind and the clanking of repairs.
Dace ducked around the opened panel at her call. "Good morning," he yelled back before returning his attention to the guts of the shuttle.
Salutations completed, Tamarja circled the shuttle, performing a brief external check before proceeding up the ramp and securing herself in the cockpit. She decided to leave the doors dissolved so the breeze could circulate. All this fresh air was spoiling her, and she wanted more of it.
Of course she could get more if she returned to the mountain and found the source of that flashing light. If it turned out to be nothing, then no harm done. If it did have some significance, then she could approach Yohzad with confidence.
A good plan. A perfect plan, in fact. So why did it leave a sour taste in her mouth and her mind foggy at the edges?
Fog meant it was time to turn her thoughts elsewhere. Quickly shifting her focus before the fog grew worse, she turned her attention to the shuttle's systems and called up her schedule.
The system pinged. Daily schedule not available. Please check back later.
Oh, Stars. What else could tie her last nerve in a knot today?
Slumping back, she closed her eyes. Think of something positive, something that makes you happy. Daeven's image floated across her inner eye. Daeven? Yes, thinking of Daeven certainly made her happy, though he confused her to no end. His pattern of snapping at her, then acting concerned, kept her guessing as to what he felt for her—assuming he felt anything at all.
He could be crazy, in which case his behavior isn't unusual. So, how do I deal with a security officer who can't decide if I'm a pain in his backside or a potential lover?
Jita would know. She could tell me exactly how to deal with him. Tamarja hesitated for a moment and then punched into the comm to try to locate Jita. An incoming comm interrupted her search.
"Chase," Ramsey said without preamble, "there's a change of plans. All the outbound meetings and formal dinners for the next two days are being held here at Facility Prime. Security purposes. Your services won't be needed. Just be mindful if you leave the grounds. Security is tight these days."
"I noticed. I won't go far. Comm me if there are any changes."
Ramsey nodded and cut the signal.
What luck. Two days of freedom. Enough time to climb the mountain and investigate.
Just enough time to get yourself into trouble. Look at what happened the last time you had freedom.
That was completely different, she argued with herself, I was just the pilot. Daeven was leading the way. He's the crazy one, not me.
Speaking of whom…
Tamarja answered the pinging comm again, not bothering to wonder why she knew it would be Daeven without even checking. "Hello, Daeven."
"Hi, Tamarja."
He looked like a man who'd been dragged into a black hole and spit out again. His eyes wouldn't meet hers, but she could still see some puffiness around the lids. His shoulders slumped forward, and his hands hung limply over the edge of the comm unit.
"What's wrong?" she asked, keeping her voice low.
He shrugged, licking his lips before speaking again. "Look, I know you had questions last night, reasonable questions, and even though I still can't answer them, I shouldn't have accused you of attracting trouble. I know you had nothing to do with it."
Tamarja didn't disagree. She couldn't even speak as her shock at almost getting an unsolicited apology out of the man stole her voice.
"I want to make it up to you," he continued. "If you have any time coming, I'd like to take you somewhere. Somewhere nice, so I can show you I
'm not always like the man you've been dealing with since you arrived."
Tamarja had to clear her throat before her voice would work. "Actually, I have the next two days off. But I know security is all over the place right now, so…"
"I'm off duty as well. Last night…" He hesitated, and Tamarja held her breath. "It wasn't a good night for me, so I've been ordered off duty today and maybe tomorrow."
Interesting. "I still can't go far. Just in case the director changes her mind."
He nodded. "I still need to get some sleep before I go anywhere. Why don't we meet at Habitat Twenty-Two? There's a restaurant and some shops you haven't seen yet at the base of the mountain. We'll stay away from the swimming hole."
"Sounds good to me. Go get some sleep."
He nodded, yawning as he shut down the comm.
Tamarja leaned back in her seat and considered the possibilities. Daeven contacted her, he wanted to see her, and he offered a legitimate excuse to return to the mountain. This couldn’t be more perfect. Now maybe she could solve the mystery of why he had a like-hate thing going for her, maybe even find something out about her past, and check out the mysterious light.
She disconnected her flight restraints and headed for the exit, tossing a quick "good-bye" to Dace as she ran from the roof. She had plans to make.
Tamarja never actually said she had a date with Daeven when she sent a comm to Jita. She just said he wanted to take her to dinner and she needed to acquire some new nonuniform clothing. Before she could explain that she didn't have a lot of credit to spare, Jita squealed the word "date" and magically appeared on Tamarja's doorstep before she had even shut down the comm link.
In her arms, Jita carried a wardrobe fitter, an instant manicure pan, a set of hair stylers, and two body scrubbers. Not waiting for a formal welcome, she pushed past Tamarja and started setting up her equipment in the middle of the apartment. Tamarja had no choice but to follow.
"We'll have you looking fabulous within the hour."