Chapter 4
An insistent chime was sounding in Jon’s head. It took a minute before it resolved itself into the ringing of his communicator. He sat up in bed, shook his head to get his eyes to focus, and glanced at the clock.
Nine a.m.
Who in the world could be disturbing him at this hour?
He wearily ran a hand through his hair before clicking the button. Stephen’s face was there, fresh, alert, and a knowing grin spread across his face as he took in Jon’s disheveled look.
“Officer living has made you soft,” he teased. “Noon, on the Gumba plains, for some speed bike racing across the dunes? We should be done by then.” His mouth tweaked. “And little chance of pink-haired vixens bothering us at those speeds.”
Jon was instantly awake; he pushed off the covers. “Yes, absolutely.”
“See you there,” agreed Stephen, chuckling as his eyes moved to Jon’s hair. And then he was gone.
It seemed as if the two hours eased by as molasses oozing down a gentle slope, and Jon swore his carpet was showing a ring from his feet’s constant movement by the time noon finally wrapped its way around. He made his way to the teleporter room, gave the ID code of Stephen’s phone, and the world shimmered out of view.
He blinked against the bright sunshine. He was standing in the shadow of a large bluff. A grouping of finely crafted elm chairs around a rock maple table had been arranged alongside a winding stream. A row of willows added a soft shhhh as their branches waved in the breeze.
Stephen was there at his side, and he raised a finger to his lips. Jon nodded, his eyes moving over the group.
Nicole was standing by the table with six Cybians, their pale gray skin shimmering in the sun, their luxurious caftans of embroidered aquamarine and amethyst flowing delicately in the breeze. They were offering her formal embraces. Jon’s eyes moved outward from the group, and he saw the other members of the team stationed in a protective ring around the perimeter of the area. Each wore an emerald outfit, a melding of the Collective’s uniform and a softer, flowing material.
An elderly Cybian spoke to Nicole with warmth. “You know we appreciate all you do, Nicole,” he praised. “Although how you spend time with those disgusting Patars is simply beyond our comprehension. They are worse than slugs. At least a slug knows its place.”
“I understand your view completely,” assured Nicole, patting his arm. “The negotiations tomorrow will bring you exactly what you wish. I promise it.”
“We have faith in you,” intoned the Cybian. And then they shimmered and were gone.
Nicole rolled her shoulders, then turned and smiled up at Jon. “Good morning,” she called out with a smile.
She looked even more radiant than she had at the game last night. Then she had been elegant and refined. Now she was dressed in a loose-flowing dress of sapphire, and her hair danced in the breeze. She held out a hand to him, and in a few short steps he had closed the distance between them to take it.
The group headed down to a dirt path that paralleled the stream. She looked up at him as they walked. “So, is this your first visit to Glandy?”
He grinned. “No, but not that I could see it the first time.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Some sort of a covert mission? And here I thought Glandy was known as a resort getaway.”
He shook his head. “No, my parents came here on their honeymoon. My mother always teased me that I was conceived under the full moon.”
Her gaze stilled, and they walked a few steps in silence. The willows whooshed in the breeze, and the brook burbled as it tumbled over a cascade of smooth stones.
He looked over. “How about you. Have you been here before?”
She gave herself a shake, drawing back from the musings which had caught her. “Yes, certainly,” she murmured. “A number of times.” She looked out over the dunes. “It’s a special place. It draws people from all over the galaxy with its landscapes.”
He nodded. “Legend even has it that Nikita and one of her crew members came through here, escaping the assassins who had slain the rest of her group. But, of course, nobody knows for sure. Their trail simply vanishes.”
Nicole’s eyes went to the cliffs before them. Her voice was a low murmur. “They vanished.”
They rounded a bend and six air bikes waited for them, their lean metal shapes shining in the afternoon sun.
Then they were in motion.
They raced as a pack, skimming the dunes, curling around a towering mound, and sling-shotting off the top of a slope. The cushion of air the bikes glided on sent trails of dust in their wake, and Jon laughed in delight as Nicole twisted in front of him, crossing his path to spiral around the edge of a dune. The afternoon shimmered and spun, and it was all he could have wanted from life.
Nicole pulled away from the others, and he followed her as they moved closer to the cliffs, tracing their way up a narrow slope where the bikes could find traction. The path was challenging, and Jon enjoyed the technical work involved, mentally mapping the next angle of attack and the proper place to cross over a fissure.
It seemed all too soon before the two had crested the bluff and come to a rest by a small stand of sagebrush.
Nicole smiled in satisfaction at him as she turned off her bike and dismounted. “You did well back there,” she praised. “Many would have turned back.”
“Then they would not deserve the rewards,” he grinned, looking out at the spectacular view. The dunes and valley stretched out below them, twisting and undulating, a study in browns, reds, and ochres. His gaze moved from the natural beauty to her upturned face.
For a long moment they stood there, together, and all else faded from view.
At last she gave herself a small shake, turning, breaking the eye contact. She walked along the edge of the cliff, and he moved easily at her side, feeling as comfortable as if they had known each other for years.
Her voice eased out of her, soft and thoughtful. “This used to be one of my favorite spots,” she murmured. “I adored it here; the sense of purity, of clean beauty. The grains of sand eternally changing and morphing. It would be where I came if I needed to nurture my soul.”
Something in her tone of voice caught his attention. “And then what happened?”
She glanced down into the depths of the chasm before them. “Life happened,” she replied, her tone haunted. “Life always happens.”
Aquarian Awakenings - A Collective Saga Sci-Fi Romance Page 8