Defiant (Battle Born Book 13)

by Cyndi Friberg

  Instead, she called her grandmother. One of Helen’s silly jokes was exactly what she needed right now. The line connected, but the answering machine clicked on after several rings. Was she in the bathroom? Nature called to everyone from time to time. She glanced at the time on her phone and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. It was too late for breakfast yet too early for lunch. Had Helen felt good enough to play bingo?

  “You’re being paranoid.” Helen’s rambling message ended, so Thea said, “It’s me again, Gran. Glad you’re out and about. I’ll try again later this afternoon.” She tucked the phone back inside her pocket, but the trepidation wouldn’t release.

  She’d been careful not to mention her grandmother to anyone at the RF camp. It had been an instinctual precaution, but it seemed insufficient now. Using loved ones as motivation was a common tactic among unscrupulous people.

  But the RF leaders were the good guys. Weren’t they?

  Chapter Six

  Rex Dravon watched Torrin Havier saunter across the bar and sit down at one of the empty tables. Finally. Rex had been waiting for almost two hours, so he could “accidently” run into the mysterious mercenary. Arton’s request that he speak with Torrin hadn’t surprised Rex in the slightest. Torrin had been working for the battle born a little over a month now and already his name was whispered with awe. No one knew much about him, which only added to his lethal mystique. Some had concluded that he was a disgraced techno-mage out for revenge against the establishment. Others thought he was something even more sinister, an élite assassin looking for new opportunities. Rex didn’t know Torrin’s past circumstances and didn’t particularly care. Torrin was an accomplished mercenary, which meant he’d fit in better with the Outcasts than the regimented battle born.

  The bar was filling up fast. All the bars in Outpost L.A. were perpetually crowded. It didn’t seem to matter how many opened in the pleasure district, the clubs were instantly overrun with eager customers. Many of the battle born had spent their entire lives on spaceships, so even the slightest offer of shore leave was gratefully accepted. Most went to Lunar Nine, but Outpost L.A. accommodated the overflow.

  Rex stood and walked to the service island. He didn’t draw the bartender’s attention, so it took a few minutes to receive a refill. By the time he turned around, full drink in hand, his table had been taken over by other customers. He fought back a smile. Step one complete.

  He made a disgruntled gesture, drawing Torrin’s attention without making eye contact. “I just left long enough to grab another beer,” he complained loud enough for Torrin to overhear. The group who had taken over his table was deep in conversation, so they didn’t pay him any attention. Rex looked around the room, gaze narrowed, expression irritated. His gaze landed on the three empty seats at Torrin’s table and he moved closer.

  “Do you mind if I join you? This place is insane.”

  “Not at all.” Torrin motioned toward one of the chairs with his glass.

  Rex sat and took a drink. “Gods that tastes good. They say the printed stuff has exactly the same molecules, but I know I could taste the difference blindfolded.”

  Torrin just smiled, then stuck out his hand. “Torrin Havier, and you’re Rex Dravon if I’m not mistaken.”

  Rex shook his hand. “Should I be flattered or concerned? Notoriety is a disadvantage in my line of work. How do you know my name?”

  “Friend of a friend,” Torrin said dismissively. “It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

  “I’m not in Outpost L.A. all that often, but I don’t remember seeing you before.” That much was true. He’d never seen Torrin before, he’d just heard all sorts of things about him.

  “I’ve only been here a few weeks, but most of that time was spent on the Triumphant.”

  “The Triumphant? Color me impressed. Few are invited out to Mount Olympus.”

  Torrin tilted his head and curiosity flickered in his smoky-green eyes. “That’s a reference to human mythology. Do you spend a lot of time on Earth?”

  Rex shrugged. “I don’t spend a lot of time anywhere but space. I have contacts on Earth just like I have contacts on a hundred other planets.” Torrin only nodded, so Rex delved deeper. “It’s all about the money for me. What drew you to the rebellion?”

  “Curiosity.” He chuckled. “And the money. I’m a businessman, just like you. I go where the work is.”

  “Work for the battle born is winding down. Their rebellion is just about settled. They’ve installed new leadership on their homeworld and they’ve found a way to unleash their magic.” He raised his brow as if he’d just realized something important. “Is that why you’re here? Do you want to undergo transformation?”

  Torrin shook his head and gazed past Rex as he drained his beer. “I’ve undergone more than enough transformation for one lifetime. General Lux offered me employment. I accepted the offer. There’s no mystery here.”

  “Works for me.” Rex tried to sound disinterested. This was just barroom chatter. “I worked for the battle born for a while, but I’m not good with rules. Or bosses for that matter.”

  Challenge arched Torrin’s brow and speculation gleamed in his eyes. “Kage Razel is less of a boss than Sedrik Lux? I find that hard to believe.”

  So he did know about the Outcasts. Rex shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. Five weeks wasn’t a lot of time to learn the ins and outs of outpost politics. “The Outcasts are a democracy guided by a benevolent dictator. The battle born are an army, with all the expected layers of command. I found the Outcasts less restrictive, and infinitely more profitable. It was just a better fit all the way around.”

  Torrin just stared at him, gaze intense yet unreadable. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  If Rex pushed any harder, it would seem suspicious. Instead, he gulped down the rest of his beer and motioned to one of the robot waiters. “We’ll take another round.”

  * * * * *

  When Jenna arrived at clinic seven, she was instructed to take a seat in the waiting room. Was something seriously wrong with Drex? What was taking so long?

  The door to the actual clinic opened an hour later, but a dark-haired female walked out. She was wearing the Rodyte version of a lab coat. Weren’t all the battle born male? A closer look revealed that the female wasn’t even Rodyte. She had sleek dark hair, like many of the Rodytes, but her eyes were pale blue and clearly human. And despite the blue eyes, if Jenna were to guess, she’d say the doctor was of Asian descent.

  The female held out her hand toward Jenna and smiled. “I’m Dr. Lily Fontenot. Dr. Mintell called me in when the nature of Drex’s ailment became evident.” She glanced at the receptionist, then motioned to the row of seats against the far wall. “Why don’t we go sit down?”

  It was as close to privacy as they could come, so Jenna followed her across the waiting room. “What is the ‘nature of Drex’s ailment’? What’s wrong with him?”

  Lily waited until they were both seated before she began her explanation. “Before I say anything, I should probably ask, is it your intention to bond with Drex?”

  “Why does that matter?” Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. Was he dying?

  Apparently, seeing her panic, Lily reached over and squeezed her hand. “He’s stable, but his condition is still very serious and complicated. I really shouldn’t explain the details unless you’re his mate or a family member.”

  “He hasn’t claimed me yet, but we’re courting.” At least that wasn’t a boldfaced lie.

  Lily didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. “Did he recently create some sort of link with you?”

  She nodded. She didn’t know exactly what he’d done, but she’d felt him in her mind and could suddenly sense his emotions.

  “And, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important, but were you…intimate at the time?” Lily was clearly uncomfortable asking the question.

  “Yes.” Now they were both blushing.

  “I tend to ramble, but let me see if
I can make this succinct. We’ve found certain markers in Drexel’s genome that are puzzling, to say the least. It’s obvious that he has undergone significant genetic modification, but a detailed medical history would be invaluable right now and we’ve been unable to locate one.”

  “I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you what I know.” Without the spontaneous memory transfer, she wouldn’t have known anything. How could she care this deeply about someone she barely knew?

  “Let’s start with the obvious. Were both Drexel’s parents full-blooded Rodyte?”

  If his life was on the line, surely Drex would forgive her indiscretion. “His maternal grandmother was Bilarrian.”

  “Several of the anomalies are common in humans. This is why Dr. Mintell asked me to assist. My specialty is human genetics. Anyway, the anomalies are extremely rare in any of the species found in the Rodyte star system. Is it possible that Drex also has a human grandparent?”

  Jenna’s hands were trembling so badly, she interlocked her fingers. “If that’s true, he doesn’t know, or didn’t tell me. I know he underwent numerous medical procedures as a child and adolescent. Maybe, what you’re seeing is the result of all that—meddling.”

  “All right,” Lily said with a quick sigh. “How much do you know about the actual procedures? Do you happen to know who performed the modifications?”

  She shook her head, then stilled. “Wait, I don’t know a specific name, but Drex said the geneticist who designed his siblings was also the man who altered his DNA.”

  Lily nodded enthusiastically. “That could be helpful.” Then she hesitated again before asking, “Unfortunately, these questions are rather personal too. Your intimate interaction with Drex has made your genetic makeup pertinent to the situation as well. Were both your parents human?”

  Jenna tensed. This was her mother’s secret, not hers, but Drex’s life was on the line. “My mother is human, but my father was or is half Rodyte. I know very little about him.”

  Lily exhaled and nodded. “Thank goodness. That explains a lot. Thank you for being honest. I can tell it wasn’t easy for you to share these things.”

  Lily stood, but Jenna caught her sleeve. “I still don’t understand what’s happening to him. Why is he unconscious?”

  “We’ve not yet pinpointed the cause, but there are several significant vulnerabilities in his genome. When his unique biology was exposed to your complicated DNA, it triggered a sort of mutation.”

  Horrified, Jenna gasped. “He’s mutating?”

  “That sounds worse than it is, and Dr. Mintell has already stabilized the mutation. The challenge is figuring out exactly why it happened and making sure it never happens again.”

  “But you said I did this to him. Should we not bond? If he avoids anyone with human DNA, will that solve the problem?”

  Lily seemed surprised by the question. “Is that an option? I thought you were all but joined.”

  “I don’t want to kill him,” Jenna cried. Lily reached for her hand again, but Jenna snatched it away, shooting to her feet. “If I’m a danger to him, I’ll walk away. I will not subject him to more modifications. He’s been through enough already.”

  A knowing smile curved Lily’s lips and compassion warmed her crystal-blue eyes. “The problem is nearly solved and I’m confident this new information will fill in the rest of the blanks. I’m pretty sure Drex will want the option of making you his mate.” She reached over and touched Jenna’s upper arm. “This will still take several hours, perhaps even longer. Is there someone who can wait with you? Better yet, you should go home and we’ll contact you as soon as this is completely resolved.”

  “Not a chance.” With a deep sigh, Jenna sat back down. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Somehow I figured that would be your answer. I’ll return when I know more.”

  Lily walked back into the clinic and Jenna rubbed the back of her neck. Her hybrid DNA had nearly killed him. How was she supposed to forgive herself for that? She flipped up the armrests separating the seats and created a long, padded bench. Then she kicked off her shoes and curled up on her side. If she was going to be here all night, she might as well get comfortable.

  * * * * *

  The following morning Lenore Fermont sipped her tea alone. Someone from the Bunker had notified Foster that Jenna had returned to the Triumphant, so Lenore wasn’t worried about her daughter. She was curious, however, about the reason Jenna’s plans had suddenly changed. Had the negotiations required the relocation, or was it something more personal? She knew firsthand how hard it was to avoid a Rodyte male once his interest was engaged. Perhaps she should demand a meeting with Drexel Kaen. If Jenna was falling under his spell, it was time Lenore learned more about him. She decided to wait until Jenna checked in, find out from her how things were going before Lenore took further action.

  With the matter settled, she finished her tea and called her driver, letting him know she was ready to depart. It felt strange to start her day without seeing Jenna, but she was looking forward to the day’s activities. She was meeting several friends for breakfast at their favorite coffee shop. They were working on a fundraiser for one of the foundations Lenore supported. Women of means in her generation seldom bothered with an occupation, but philanthropy was considered a noble pursuit. Besides, Lenore was good at it.

  Her car was waiting in front of the stately brownstone as she descended the wide stone stairs. Parking was a nightmare in Manhattan, which was one of the main reasons she chose not to drive. Foster greeted her with a surprisingly warm smile, but his posture remained watchful, ever watchful. She liked the man more than she’d expected. He made having security a bit less annoying.

  “Good morning, Ms. Fermont,” he said as he held the car door open for her.

  She tossed in her purse and started to get in when someone called her name.

  “Ms. Fermont. Lenore! Please, I just need a moment of your time.”

  She turned her head as a tingle dropped down her spine. She hadn’t recognized the voice.

  Foster lunged in front of her, pistol drawn. “I warned you to stay away. You have no business here.”

  Curious about his nearly violent reaction, Lenore leaned to the side just far enough to see the intruder. She was young, perhaps late-twenties, a bit bedraggled, with blonde hair and big dark eyes. The pain so apparent in those eyes tugged at Lenore’s heartstrings. “Who is she?” she asked Foster, not wanting to encourage the ragamuffin.

  “Thea Cline,” he told her. “This is the second time she’s tried to see you.”

  Interesting. “What do you want, young lady?” She moved to Foster’s side. Nothing about this poor wretch was threatening. Surely, Foster didn’t need the gun.

  “I just want to talk to you. I was given a mission and I can’t return until it’s completed to their satisfaction.”

  Who were they? Lenore tensed and a bit of her compassion faded. The radicals that had nearly killed her daughter, that was who. No wonder Foster had turned Thea away. She looked at Foster, then sighed and turned back to the girl. “If I speak with you, will you promise not to return?”

  “Ms. Fermont, it’s not wise to—”

  She stopped his objection with an upraised hand and remained focused on Thea. “Will you?”

  “If you hear me out, I’ll have no reason to return.”

  The response was too shrewd for her appearance. There was obviously more to Thea than her dirty face and tattered clothes. “It will take approximately twenty minutes to reach my destination. Once we arrive, I will depart and I will never see you again. Do you agree?”

  Foster shook his head, clearly frustrated by her decision.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Thea said. “That’s more than fair.”

  Lenore motioned Thea into the car. Foster blocked the young woman’s path. He patted her down and took her jacket away before allowing her to continue. It seemed rather silly to Lenore, but paranoia was his stock and trade. After ensuring that Thea was unarmed, he
helped Lenore into the car, then hurried around and climbed in next to the driver. The additional precaution made Lenore smile.

  “Carry on, Jason,” Lenore said to her driver. “Hopefully, the drama is over for today.” Then she pivoted toward her visitor and said, “You have twenty minutes. Begin.”

  The little-girl-lost haplessness suddenly melted away and defiance burned in Thea’s dark eyes. Oh yes, this was the true Thea Cline, the hardcore rebel who refused to give up no matter the cost or insurmountable odds. “You know your daughter better than anyone else. Does she honestly believe that securing an alliance with the battle born is what’s best for Earth?”

  Intrigued by the change in young Thea, and the challenge in her suddenly well-modulated voice, Lenore took a moment to think before she answered. She had always enjoyed a good debate. “The question is no longer what is best for Earth, but what is possible. The battle born are a far superior force. We can work with them or be overrun by them, and they’ve left the choice up to us.”

  “That’s not a choice that’s a threat, and it’s not accurate.”

  Foster turned around and glared at Thea. “Maintain a civil tone or I’ll throw you out.”

  “She’s fine.” Lenore backed him off with a smile and a wave. “Passion is not disrespectful. She’s simply passionate about her misguided beliefs.”

  The subtle provocation found its target. Thea sat a little straighter and composed her expression. When she spoke again, her tone was even, conversational, yet no less determined. “Please explain how wanting to regain control of our planet is misguided. Humans are indigenous to this world. Rodytes are an armed invasion force. American Indians greeted the pilgrims with trust and offers of assistance, and they were slaughtered or driven off their land. Have you learned nothing from history?”