Solar Heat

by Susan Kearney

  At night, lovers strolled arm in arm. Several teens walked their dogs. The streets were safe. Several late-night eating establishments remained opened, doing a brisk business in whai. The scent steamed out into the air, a pleasant reminder of what these people had accomplished, their industry amazing.

  If she lied and reported that she’d found evidence of huge retaliatory weapons, would the Firsts on Rama delay their strike? If she warned the Zorans, would it do any good? Could they design defensive weapons and prepare for war? If so, could she live with the consequences that Ramans would die?

  Stomach twisting into icy knots, Azsla walked blindly, uncertain of her options. Uncertain of her heart.

  HOURS LATER AZSLA had come to no firm conclusion—except that she had to verify her data before sending a report. Exhausted from the decision-making process, she’d headed back to her apartment with the expectation that everyone would be asleep. Instead, every window in her apartment was lit up as bright as a retro-rocket on takeoff. Too bad she couldn’t see inside. The panes were turned to one-way. They could see out, but she couldn’t see in—a precaution they’d employed to keep their presence from being discovered by a casual observer.

  Curious and worried something had gone wrong, she took the back entrance, stopped about five feet shy of the door, and placed her ear to the wall. But she couldn’t hear voices or music or any kind of noise to indicate her crew still remained inside.

  Of course they were there. Where else would they go?

  Azsla used her thumbprint to activate the lock and opened the door. Jadlan, Rak, and Micoo sat together on the couch. At the sight of her, their expressions shot a warning.

  Azsla spun and reached for her weapon. But she’d barely touched it before Sauren and Derrek stepped forward. Derrek’s hand encircled her wrist, and while his touch was gentle, it was firm enough to disarm her. “I’ll take that.”

  Her heart beat I’m-glad-to-see-you’s. But from his tight expression that warned her he suspected she was up to something, her mind screamed run. But it was too late. She couldn’t help but wonder how he’d found her. And why?

  At the danger he and Sauren represented, her Quait awakened like a startled beast. Her Quait wanted to howl. To pounce. To force him to stand back so his musky male scent wouldn’t cloud her judgment. It was almost as if her Quait had been growing stronger, waiting for the perfect moment to escape.

  But now was so not the time to let loose or lose one tiny iota of control. Her Quait flexed in anticipation of taking over everyone’s wills, of forcing them to do exactly what she wished. It was her nature to dominate. A First’s right to make them all obey. The Quait rising within her was nature’s way of telling her she was superior. Deserving to lead. To pound them all down into subservience.

  Years of training tempered her emotions, and, like calming a stampeding gazella, she reined in the primal streak. Turned it in on itself until it spun in a violent vortex. Then she sucked it inward, squashing every last defiant cell until she had herself back under strict control.

  That had been close. And the effort had left her muscles trembling, which Derrek had to notice as she allowed him to ease the weapon from her hand. Reminding herself that quaking was perfectly acceptable, she used the emotion, hoping he’d think she was afraid of him, instead of afraid of taking charge. “What are you doing here?”

  He ignored her question as if he had every right to barge into her private quarters. His intelligent eyes focused on her, really looking deep—like straight to her guilty soul—and suspicion shone through.

  “Where have you been?” he questioned.

  “At work.”

  “Under your own name?”

  “What business is it of yours?” She crossed her arms over her chest, cocked her head, and glared, allowing him to see only her anger. When his suspicion increased, she figured she was showing too much defiance for a just-freed slave and toned down her emotions another notch. “I’m sorry. Have we done something wrong? Violated one of your laws?”

  “President Laurie was upset that he lost his honored guests and a shot at presenting you to the world.”

  “If he’d wanted us to stick around, maybe he should have treated his guests better,” Azsla countered, still annoyed by the politician. “And I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Really?” Derrek’s gaze locked on her, and the heat could have curled her Quait if she hadn’t blocked it. The man really knew how to slide beneath her barriers. She reminded herself to watch out around him.

  Azsla didn’t understand why every time they were in the same room she felt this connection, as if they shared things that had been real, things that hadn’t been said. And she suspected that he knew she’d deliberately changed the subject.

  “I was coming back from the Space Ministry to talk to my crew about some disturbing news I’d heard, but we could use the input of Zorans.”

  “As much as I’d like to hear what you have to say, we need to leave immediately.” Derrek gestured to the door. “Unless you want to become Laurie’s guest again.”

  “I’d rather not. Especially since I’m wondering if he could be conspiring with . . .”

  “Conspiring? With whom?”

  “Firsts on Zor.” She no longer wanted to hold back. Learning that the Ramans intended to destroy everyone on Zor made the decision simple. It was one thing to preserve the Raman way of life, to prevent uprising and killing. But to wipe out every Zoran horrified her. She wouldn’t condone such an appalling plan.

  “What?” His brows furrowed, and his mouth tightened into a hard line. “What are you talking about? There are no Firsts on Zor.” Derrek scowled at her, at her crew, at Sauren, then back at her again.

  “Well, maybe the workers were only teasing me.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “I’m the new employee. It’s not like I have a high-level job or anything, but I overheard that Firsts are working on Zor . . . undercover.” Azsla saw Rak and Micoo exchange glances, but Jadlan’s eyes followed the conversation, and she could see doubts there. Jadlan didn’t believe her, but he’d promised to trust her. She tossed him a don’t-betray-me glance, then focused on Derrek. “Perhaps we should leave and talk at the same time?”

  13

  DERREK SHEPHERDED Azsla and her crew into two waiting hovercraft. He, Azsla, and Micoo grabbed the first vehicle, and Sauren followed with Rak and Jadlan. Azsla seemed especially concerned over Micoo, her eyes darting to him with a frequency that set Derrek’s teeth on edge. It also bothered him that Micoo and Azsla had apparently been sharing the bedroom.

  While he told himself he had no call for jealousy, his mind refused to listen. Images of Azsla and Micoo cuddling and kissing were entirely too difficult to banish. Especially when Derrek recalled how eager Azsla had been in his vision. But that had been a dream. This was real. Even worse, dealing with his jealous emotions was making it difficult to concentrate on anything but taking her into his arms.

  However, worrying about Ramans on Zor was a hell of lot more important than Azsla’s sleeping arrangements. Especially if President Laurie was conspiring with Firsts. The implications were staggering.

  Still . . . Micoo rested his head on Azsla’s shoulder, and Derrek clenched his fingers into fists, then forced them to uncurl. He might feel like bashing Micoo in the face just for touching Azsla, but a blow might kill the kid. He really looked washed out.

  As the hovercraft shot them through the city and toward Derrek’s Zoran home, he searched Azsla’s eyes for any clue to her inner thoughts. She looked different without her dark hair. But the new lighter color became her. In truth, any hair color would look good with her high cheekbones and healthy skin tone.

  “You expect me to believe Firsts are living on Zor, and we don’t know about them? That’s impossible.” Derrek hadn’t been under the influence of Quait
in ten years, but he knew that Firsts used Quait like he used his hearing. It wasn’t a sense that could be turned on and off like a hyperdrive switch.

  “I don’t expect anything,” Azsla replied softly. “I’m telling you what I heard.”

  Although her news shook him to the root of his soul as it would any escaped slave who dreaded recapture, he kept his tone even. “You must have heard wrong. If Firsts were here, they’d be using their Quait, and we would know.”

  “Not if they were tranqed. But that’s not important.”

  Tranqed Firsts lost their powers. But they couldn’t bear to live like that. It was like a man with eyesight volunteering to go blind. It wouldn’t happen. Or it wouldn’t have happened on Rama. But here? Were the Ramans so desperate to spy on their former slaves they’d resort to tranqs? Derrek couldn’t dismiss the idea out of hand. He hadn’t attained his position in life without realizing that events didn’t always go the way he expected. But he couldn’t take her word for such a startling notion without evidence. “You heard more?”

  “Yeah.” She spoke in a soft whisper, with an edge of diamondite. “The Firsts are all pulling out because there’s going to be an attack on Zor.”

  “An attack. Where exactly?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged, and her breasts rose and fell, making his mouth go dry as he recalled tasting the tips, the way her nipples puckered beneath his tongue. “Supposedly the weapon’s so big it’s going to kill everyone. Smash every building.”

  “You certainly found out a lot of information on your first day at work,” he muttered.

  She twisted her hands, then stilled. “No one paid much attention to me. I had low-level, go-for-whai status. And they spoke as if I didn’t have a brain.” She had a touch of smugness in her voice that suggested she was telling the truth.

  However, such a suggestion was preposterous. He didn’t believe a word she’d “overheard.” A rumor like this would have raced through the population like wildfire. He suspected the Space Ministry employees had been baiting a new employee.

  Cautious by nature and just in case he was wrong, he uplinked to Sauren and held the conversation on speaker so Azsla could listen, too. “Have we picked up any rumor of a Raman weapon that could destroy everyone on Zor?”

  “Yes, boss man. There’s talk of a weapon that will melt our salt. Another that disintegrates flesh. There are also demons on the third continent ready to devour our souls.”

  “Anything to worry about?” Derrek asked.

  “We’re trying to break an inordinate amount of encrypted chatter that’s going in and out of the Space Ministry. Nothing solid.”

  “Keep me informed.” He cut the link, annoyed that all his blood was hitting his groin. Shifting uneasily in his seat, he tried to make a little more room in his pants and turned to Azsla. “You sure you didn’t dream this up?”

  She tossed her hair out of her eyes. “I don’t have those kinds of dreams.”

  Sweet Vigo. She had his gut churning, his jaw aching, and now she was throwing hints that made his mind spin. He felt as if he were a warrior that had been punched, stomped on, clubbed, and then tossed aside. And her words implied she might have caused that fantasy dream.

  He raised his eyebrow. “What kind of dreams do you have?”

  He held his breath, waiting for her answer. Her eyes met his, a tentative touch, just the merest hint of knowledge shared in her gaze. Heat blazed across the empty space.

  She sucked in her breath and bit her lip. “I dreamed of you . . . in an ice cave.”

  Her words slapped him like a blow across the face. She’d either caused that fantasy or been caught in it with him. Either that or it was the biggest coincidence this side of Alpha One. Derrek lowered his voice so he wouldn’t wake Micoo, who had fallen asleep, his head still against her shoulder. “We were making love?”

  “Oh . . . my . . . God.” Her eyes widened as she stared at him. “It seemed too real to be a dream. But how could we . . . Where were . . . It’s not possible. I was awake and walking down the street, and then I was with you. When I returned—”

  “No time had passed.” He smiled at her, the pain in his heart easing at the realization she hadn’t been responsible for the fantasy. And that changed everything. She wasn’t trying to deceive him. She’d been caught in the vision, just like he had, and he couldn’t forget how she’d responded. Responded, hell. She’d invited him to her bed of furs. “I liked kissing you.”

  “You made that happen?” Her fingers reached for the hovercraft door, as if she’d forgotten that they flew many feet above the sidewalks below. Then she jerked back, shock in her eyes, but straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. “How? How could you do that to me?”

  “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what happened. I actually wondered if I was going crazy from too much space radiation.”

  “Space radiation? Has this ever—”

  “Happened before? No.” He didn’t mention the talking voice in his head. That wasn’t the same as a fantasy. And she already had a troubled look in her eyes. Like she wanted to jump out of the vehicle to get away.

  Micoo awakened, lifted his head, and put a hand on her shoulder. Derrek had to clench his fists not to brush it away.

  “You okay?” Micoo asked Azsla softly.

  “I’ve been better,” she muttered, shooting Derrek a dark look. Clearly she didn’t believe that he’d had nothing to do with the ice cave scenario. But unless she was a very good actress, she hadn’t instigated the incident, either. Which left him with more questions than answers.

  If he hadn’t the skill or technology to pluck two people out of time and space and neither did she, then who did?

  Derrek could think of only one being who might have that kind of power. The one in his head. My God. You did that to me?

  Silence answered his question. That figured. Now he wanted to speak to the voice in his head, but the being didn’t want to answer for his mischief. He didn’t know which was worse, having an alien being in his head or thinking he’d been going crazy.

  “Where are you taking us?” Azsla asked as the hovercraft slowed in the residential area.

  “My place.”

  “Aren’t you worried that President Laurie—”

  “Not particularly. First, he won’t know you’re here. And second, even if he figures it out, he’ll hesitate to move against me.”

  “Why?”

  Derrek laughed, pleased with his house and wondering what she’d think of it. “Because this place is a fortress, and Laurie’s a cautious man.”

  “You can’t hide us forever.”

  Derrek’s grin widened as the hovercraft landed. “Sure I can.” He popped open the door. “Welcome to my house.”

  Micoo whistled. “That’s a house? Looks like it’ll accommodate an army.”

  “You own this?” Azsla gazed at the place in open awe.

  Derrek had built the two-story mansion to be impressive, finding it a necessary business accessory. He’d bought the site years ago, liking the privacy of the large tract of land within the city limits and recognizing the location could only rise in value. One of Zor’s finest architects had set the house on the top of a hill. All white, with sweeping columns and many balconies, the building projected a gracious and welcoming air, yet he still preferred his home on Alpha One.

  However, he was glad to be here. With its defensive systems, the building was the safest place on Zor. Yet, if Azsla’s crazy story about a horrible new weapon had even a hint of truth, they weren’t safe anywhere on this world.

  Derrek fully planned to ask her many more questions about what she’d overheard, but he could see exhaustion in her eyes as she turned to greet Rak, Jadlan, and Sauren as they exited the second hovercraft.

  At the sight of the house, Rak’s lo
wer jaw dropped.

  “I’m not sure we’re up to roughing it,” Jadlan joked, but he had a serious look in his eyes, almost as if he sensed trouble arriving.

  “Let’s get everyone inside.” Sauren ushered them forward. In truth, he was more familiar with the house and staff than Derrek was, since he stayed here more often during his visits dirtside, taking advantage of Derrek’s open invite, the com systems, and the good location.

  “This mansion is larger than any First’s on Rama,” Rak said as he stepped through the granitite foyer, craning his neck and whistling at the stained glass that bordered the domed ceiling.

  “Land isn’t as scarce on Zor. We had more room to spread out.” Derrek kept his words light. Mostly he was interested in Azsla’s response. She’d reacted more strongly to his revelation that they’d shared a sexual fantasy than to his obvious wealth. In fact, as if she had more pressing issues on her mind, she barely seemed to react at all to the beautiful sculptures, the diamondite stones in the huge saltwater fish tanks, or even the circular stairway, the elegant centerpiece carved out of one enormous piece of jadite.

  “Would you care for refreshments?” Derrek asked, playing host.

  “No thanks,” Azsla said. “But I could sack out for a good ten hours. I need sleep. The last time I slept was on your ship.”

  Azsla’s words eased his mind—perhaps she hadn’t slept beside Micoo in the bed in the apartment where he’d found them after all. Admitting to himself that he was so insane about this woman that he’d allowed himself to become jealous for no reason, irritated him. Azsla wasn’t the only one who could use some sleep. After a good night’s rest, they would all be better off.

  Looking closely, he saw weariness in her eyes, dark circles under them, and chastised himself for not realizing how close to exhaustion she was. She looked ready to keel over, indicating she’d likely been staying awake due to pure adrenaline.