* * * *
Bench, table, and bed hidden inside their recesses, Kindrist sat cross-legged inside her empty personal quarters on the cold hard floor before the window where she gazed out at the universe’s vast expanse. The continual hush from the starship’s ventilation system kept her thoughts from the inner peace mercenaries strove to attain while assuming a meditative posture. Or was it her fears—the culprit behind any assassin’s failure. But could Goro be trusted? Sevra had saved Jake with the Mawshwuc. The problem had to lie with the commander. Or Jake.
Where was her husband? Learning more from Goro today? Interesting company they both kept. Or I’m losing my mind. She inhaled a deep soothing breath and exhaled slowly.
At least, the commander confided in a pregnant woman’s spouse when she was no longer fit for duty. Duty? More like shackling a woman in the dungeon.
How would duty imprison me next?
No negative thoughts, Kindrist. She sucked in another deep breath.
Body, mind, and soul as one. Always. For The Cause. For her child’s safety. For Destiny.
Duty demanded a high price.
What would the child bring into the equation? If the pregnancy goes full-term, if legend rings true, what kind of future will Jake and I have with the child? Hiding from Voldon was about as easy as dethroning him. Voldon would hunt them down. No, hunt the child down. Talk about blood pacts and vendettas. Voldon was as subhuman as humanoids came. Wild. Feral. Like my thoughts. Am I any better than him?
Her heart drummed for an answer.
Unfortunately, the only answer was wait until facing Voldon before worrying. Now was the time for meditation.
For carrying a child full-term.
And marriage.
Why hadn’t Jake returned yet? Was her soul mate still stubbornly defying everyone? Surely he was becoming content with his destiny after learning so much about the enemy. Even if Violet Children were reared in a world where individualism graded into narcissism, he had to understand the risk in allowing Voldon to control the universe. But the Violet Children of earth cared little for the concept of predestined paths. To each his own meant nothing when legends were at stake. Jake had to care for more. Especially after he left Paul’s quarters to ensure I was safe when the Mawshwuc was loose on the ship. But what could he care for, truly, when a psychic had no way of reading his thoughts? “I have to be wrong. I must be patient. Believe—”
Why am I speaking with my mouth?
Too many days with a man she wanted to help had weakened her. Altered her. I am behaving like a wild woman. Or perhaps all could be blamed on her state of being. Pregnancy. I have to focus. Center my essence. Crush my fear of losing control. How was one to manage such a feat? Jake wielded all the power, holding his blood over my head like a trophy.
He had every right to.
The child was as much his as hers.
His blood.
And I tricked him into fatherhood and marriage.
The door swooshed behind her.
At last, the man returned. Time to show him how a Nulvitian achieved reason through meditation. Clutched at inner peace. Attained strength through introspection instead of being thrown off Destiny’s path through another’s narcissism. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as the sounds of his footfalls barely whispered across the cabin’s floor.
Something struck the side of her head.
Flashing light danced in darkness before her eyes.
Who struck me?
Fire burned through her ribs.
Gods, she was a fool for buying into Destiny’s promise of her child. The child of legend. But who had Destiny chosen to take out the child? Not Jake. He was far too possessive of her. Or at least the child. She sucked in a breath to help her ignore the searing pain in her ribs and managed to turn to peer over her shoulder.
A fleeting image of plain shadowy walls held no clue.
The world went burned black.
Chapter Eighteen
By the time Jake left Goro’s secret map room, his gut snarled for food as he walked through The Seeker’s spotlessly clean corridor for some additional tutoring from Paul. Although food was a nicer diversion from wanting to mate with the sexiest woman in the universe.
His gut growled.
I just need food.
These people didn’t have an eating schedule. They just ate whenever. But there didn’t seem to be much time to find magic buttons that delivered food after private tutoring with the commander. The sands in that invisible hourglass spilled relentlessly. And the secret mission would be here before he could learn how to find the pisser. Oh, the damned irony in his peon’s duty. He had to play games with Paul, guzzle a Beast Tamer, and not confuse what Goro taught him about neural network fortifications with anything misleading Paul offered.
Talk about a snake pit.
The game was on.
For what though?
A trip home? Earth seemed out of the picture now. How could a person sit back and refuse to participate with his gene pool on the line? Especially when a person stood on the line being compared with the crazed woman in The Chamber. Why hadn’t Darla buckled to sex? Was her faith so strong that she could resist and occupy the last vestige of earth’s proverbial Garden of Eden? Faith. Now that was an interesting term. And what was the fruit of knowledge? A drop of blood? Hell. Talk about too much damned coincidence. And Darla’s ability to stave off the commander’s manipulation.... Goro probably had a different approach with Darla than me. Still, Darla could stick to her guns in the end. Her determination was pretty amazing. Talk about amazing if Sevra was a saboteur working for Voldon, Paul ranked as manipulative as the commander.
Now to meet Paul and sense his true colors.
Jake stopped out of the door’s sensor range and stared toward Paul’s closed personal quarters in the empty corridor.
His gut flopped.
Not a bad moment for raising flags. Is my yammering gut implying Weatherford is a fraud to The Cause? Could anyone inducted into the war even blame Paul for feigning allegiance? But what type of mad man, okay let’s stick with Voldon as a being, zeroed in on nurseries and babies to fight for something? Not one bent on gaining any respect from his subjects. Yes, The Cause had to be the cavalry. No other rationalization fitted the situation.
So, what of Paul? Sevra’s obviously guilty by association in the fact her home world is close to Voldon’s planet of origin. Not to mention, a were-assassin couple would be the most crucial piece in this space-opera game of strategy. If Voldon was insane enough to focus on Goro, then surely infiltrating Goro’s ship would be the way to go. The only way aboard was through a were-assassin couple with faulty allegiances. Goro would be a fool not to be suspicious.
“Hey, man!” someone shouted behind him.
English deserved the time taken to look over one’s shoulder. Jake turned back the way he’d come.
Paul hurried toward him with his signature smile. “Sevra’s operator told me you were coming.”
Smiles never appealed to a mercenary. “Sorry to tear you away from a rocking party.”
“Yeah. One rocking party. Let’s just say, every day is an adventure.” Paul reached the door and stepped toward the plate metal.
The sliding hatch whispered.
Paul waved Jake through. “After you.”
Such a gentleman. Time would surely reveal soon whether or not his birthday suit was one-hundred percent snakeskin. He crossed the threshold into Paul’s barren domain. “I love what you’ve done to the place.”
Paul laughed, locating some invisible buttons on one wall. “Tell me about it. I guess there’s a lot of energy spared in omitting any effort spent on interior decorating.”
The same standard plain table and benches slid out from their hiding place inside the room’s walls.
Paul waved between Jake and the table, then locked a curious gaze upon Jake. “So what about you? How are you acclimating to the big change?”
Might as well take
a seat and pretend to work with the man. “Shanghaied, marriage, or fatherhood? Which one?” He settled on a hard cold bench. “Got another one of those orange drinks in here? Or are they only reserved for camaraderie between buds in the outer-space psycho lounge?”
Paul laughed. “Yes on the neon drinks. And I’ve been there, dancing the horizontal mambo. Luckily, I’m still child free. Can’t imagine how it feels with that legend looming over your head.”
Jake’s gut sank.
Time’s taking pity on a man working his ass off today. Now to play a bit of poker. “You mean about Nulvitian’s only survivor giving birth to a were-wolf?”
Paul’s brow creased. “No. Rather, the one where a Nulvitian will give birth to one of two children who defeat Voldon’s tyranny.”
Well, he’s going the honesty route. “Whew. Thanks. I was worried my child would be a were-wolf.”
“No problem. On other ships, I hear a few of the psychic free-thinking peoples look quite different from us humans. There’s even one that looks like light. But none here on The Seeker. So, that’s not a problem. Just some strange genetic issue with mating. Can you imagine having a child with a person who looks like light? At least, Red Trekaar looks like earth women. And since were-beasts are only triggered after mating and sharing blood, your child shouldn’t look odd.” He waved off the topic. “So, have you finished memorizing fortress layouts?”
Better to keep the man talking so he’ll slip and send a bad vibe the old gut will pick up on. “Just spent all day working with Goro on surface versus subterranean as well as submarine fortifications. I’m fortressed out. What about your experiences on missions? I’d like to go in with my boots on, if you know what I mean. Goro didn’t think that information much for discussion as if he thought I could deal with the unknown in a piece-of-cake fashion.”
Paul propped his elbows up atop the metal tabletop. “You know, the planets all differed. Locations I mean. One was a desert. Another was on a rocky coast. It’s like venturing to different hotspots on vacation. Minus the excellent meals and bikinis. And forgot your hot-chick wife helping when the nights heat up. I actually had to attack a local after shape shifting on one mission. That blood business is brutal.”
Mercenary work is always all business, no pleasure. Especially, given I just might hurt an innocent bystander when ripping off one of their limbs as the need to quench some blood thirst overrules my ability to reason.
Paul’s interested mask melted into pinched contemplation. “The underground fortress confused me. But I’m a bit claustrophobic.”
Huh? Come again. So, the man flew all the way to his destination in a pod-fighter sarcophagus without one claustrophobic twitch? Time to play stupid. “No problem with claustrophobia here.” He waved at Paul. “You must hate the flight in a pod fighter though.”
Paul’s mouth drew into a flat smile. “Eh, nothing in life is easy. I’ve got Sevra and a job that blows. Literally with the mind-numbing sex. And look at the amazing things we get to see.” He hit the table with his palms and almost cheered. “Talk about the life.”
There had to be more to a pocket protector having mind-blowing sex. Maybe they needed to change the subject. “So what’s your psychic power?”
“Remote viewing. It actually helps with the claustrophobia in I pretend not to be wherever I am. Just hanging out in places where I’m not. You know,” he got all serious and leaned back against the ship’s walls, “I remember thinking I was losing my mind when something sent me off on a remote viewing escapade back when I was at work in the cubicle. Then Sevra showed up.” He winked at Jake. “Everything started making sense after that.”
Jake’s gut twisted.
Could anything the geek said be swallowed?
“And getting a little rest and relaxation while remote viewing works for me. I just jet back to Sevra and give her wet dreams.” Paul winked.
Some guys got all the breaks.
“And your secret power is?” Paul anchored a commanding stare on Jake.
He didn’t know? What about ship rumors? “I fancied the grapevine was shaking.” Jake tried to play dumb. “I’m intuitive.”
Paul’s curious mask melted slightly but managed to flare back into the same stupid look he initially wore. “How does intuition help you in a fight?”
Interesting thought process for the dweeb. “I don’t need any help. I can kill you now and nobody would be the wiser until your wife didn’t have her wet dream this afternoon.” Jake shot the man a wink.
Paul almost guffawed. “You probably could.” The man rose and walked to a blank wall.
As if he didn’t believe me. I could probably outsmart his hairy subhuman ass too. No sense testing that now. “What about Gameddaron? Do you know anything about it?”
Paul touched an invisible button and made two silver glasses appear inside a hole in the wall. “One continent. Blue planet like our own too. Goro wants to send you there?”
The man really didn’t know about the plan. “He’s sending the both of us.”
Paul’s brow furrowed again. “But that’s risky.”
“How so? You know what you’re doing. I don’t. Sounds like a plan to me.”
“They never risk two were-mates on a mission.” Paul wagged his head contemplatively, returning to hand over a cup of neon-orange brew. “Never.”
Well, the gears were turning in Dufus’ head. “Maybe they’re worried I’ll get killed on my own. You know,” Jake lifted his cup to his lips and paused, watching Paul’s growing smile, “with the child of legend spawned by my loins and the unique blood pumping through my veins. I’m an endangered species.”
Paul nodded once and lifted his glass in a cheer. “And I’ll gladly cover your ass.”
Disgust probably boiled Paul’s blood. Who would want to hear he was a star assassin only to learn himself indispensable in comparison to the new rookie? So much for a partner covering your backside. Well, where were the freaking knives and other weapons to protect one’s rare butt against freaking pocket protectors out to earn back their prized status? “What about weapons? Do they issue us weapons for these missions? Or do we just go in with our necks on the line unable to protect ourselves?”
“So you haven’t received clearance to the weapon room?” Paul asked smugly, rose, and waved toward the door. “Come on. I can show you what you have to choose from. You’ll have to talk to Goro about carrying them aboard The Seeker. Although, I don’t think Goro will have a problem with you being armed. Aren’t you a weapon yourself?”
What an almost dead ass. Jake followed Paul to the whisking doorway. “It’s nice to think so. But I don’t like letting something as smug go to my head and cloud my ability to reason.” Like G.I. Typo, the scourge of girl’s locker room, a guy nobody would have except a shady female extraterrestrial who liked to have sex whenever she wanted it. Something just wasn’t adding up to save-the-universe there.
A form stepped into the end of the passageway.
Sevra. The leather-clad woman seemed strange. Almost impenetrable in the distance.
She halted. “Follow me.” She waved back the way she had come.
“Well, I guess something’s up,” Paul said.
Just what was Sevra’s something?
She turned her body partially back as if she were leaving. “Hurry,” she called down the sterile corridor.
“Weird.” Paul scratched his head. “Wonder what she’s uptight about?”
Remote viewing was obviously not intuition or mind reading. “Let’s find out.”
They caught up with the female mercenary who wordlessly turned to her destination.
“How in the Hell do you read these people?” Jake muttered to her husband.
Paul chuckled. “I haven’t figured that one out, yet.”
His wife ignored them like a cold killer leading them to the gallows, guiding them through winding landmark-deficient corridors. Keeping the twists and turns locked in one’s memory was almost as difficult as maint
aining your sanity when these chumps spoke to each other without audible words.
Sevra turned to a silver door.
The door slid open.
Kindrist lay upon a sterile metal table beneath a large bright white light.
Very extraterrestrial-abduction ambiance.
His gut flopped.
Even worse, his wife didn’t look at them. Or, for the most part, anything with her eyes shut. Was she dead?
Goro stepped into the light, locking a stern gaze upon them.
Jake claimed a spot beside the table and studied Kindrist’s serene features.
So calm. Peaceful. Bizarre for the killing machine. “What happened?”
“She was attacked,” Goro announced. “And you’ll prove to me you didn’t do this.”
Chapter Nineteen
Anger laced the commander’s words where he stood across the flat metal table that magically cradled Jake’s wife in the ship’s infirmary. Or was Goro’s tone accusatory? Jake matched the commander’s stoic glare. “Who did this? How could it have happened? Isn’t this ship impenetrable? You are all psychic, if I must remind you.”
The mercenary couple shot blank glances between them from where they stood two steps behind Goro.
“We don’t read minds on this ship, Straightarrow. We invite communication. But we don’t force it.” Goro’s brow furrowed. “There’s a time and a place for interrogative procedures. But I have little evidence to initiate them. For now, I’ll have you report to your quarters where you’re to remain until I have investigated the matter further.”
“Me?” The bastard thought I had risked the life of my child to affect my escape? “What about my child? Is the child okay?” He turned to Kindrist’s sleeping leather-clad form.
“Leave us,” Goro commanded.
Why leave without answers? Wasn’t the couple the primary suspects? Jake spun to find Paul and Sevra stepping toward the metallic door.
Goro shot him an admonishing glance.
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