Solar Heat

by Susan Kearney

  Bendor, the butler, appeared in his uniform—a black shirt, black slacks, and shiny black shoes—as if it wasn’t the middle of the night. He bowed his bald head in a quick greeting. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

  Derrek headed for the owner’s suite and tried not to think about which room Bendor gave to Azsla . . . or if she’d end up in a room adjoining Micoo’s. He strode into his chamber, tossed off his shirt and slacks, and headed straight for the walk-in fresher. “Water on.”

  The water, heated to his favorite setting, splashed down from the ceiling as well as spurted from five jets. The fresher soaked, soaped, and rinsed, without him having to flex a muscle. He leaned back into the jet massaging his neck, closed his eyes, and tried to banish the image of Azsla down the hall, sleeping in one of his beds, or worse—standing under a shower like he was, the water teasing her bare flesh, caressing her as he would like to.

  But he wouldn’t go to her. So right now, he needed a distraction.

  Where the hell was the nasty voice in his head? He yearned to confront the being for tormenting him with his fantasy. If the alien hadn’t made him go through that vision in the ice tunnel, he wouldn’t be suffering now.

  You can’t blame me.

  And here I thought you’d abandoned me. Come back to torture me some more?

  You wish.

  Actually he did, since he couldn’t have the real Azsla. He couldn’t even keep the thought of having another Azsla fantasy to himself; the damn alien inside his head knew it. How he was supposed to scheme against the thing in his head when it could read his every thought, he didn’t know. It was a problem that probably couldn’t be solved. Thinking about it gave him a headache, and he suspected the alien had the power to toy with him for as long as it pleased.

  I do not toy.

  Right.

  And what you experienced was no dream.

  Excuse me? Derrek turned off the water and dried in puffs of warm air before he padded toward his bed, climbed between the sheets, and laced his hands behind his head. If that wasn’t a fantasy, then what the hell was it? And how come Azsla shared it with me?

  What you saw was a scene from your future.

  Uh-huh. His future? He and Azsla? He warmed all over at the idea, but kept his snort sarcastic, although he suspected he wasn’t fooling himself, or the alien, into thinking he didn’t find that future vision with her very appealing. However, he’d never seen an ice cave and didn’t believe the climate on Zor allowed for it. And it couldn’t have been in the asteroids since they hadn’t needed air breathers.

  There’s no point in thinking at you, if you aren’t going to believe me.

  You want me to believe you? Then prove that scene was from my future.

  Laughter filled his head. Not arrogant laughter. But laughter touched with sympathy. Well, he didn’t want the bastard’s sympathy.

  What you want . . . is her.

  It’s your damn fault. No need to sound so smug.

  My fault? You give me too much credit. I only showed you what you could have someday.

  Could have? What I could have? That doesn’t sound like the future to me. It sounds as if you are uncertain. Like you don’t have a clue and are trying to cover your ass. Derrek sighed. Nix that last thought. You don’t even have an ass, do you?

  Not for the past few millennia.

  Last few millennia? No wonder the being seemed world weary. How old are you?

  Old enough to have forgotten the horrors of a corporeal form.

  If you think being like me is so horrible, why don’t you shove out of my brain? When the alien didn’t answer, he turned over onto his stomach, not the least bit comforted that the being was older than time. Don’t you miss food and sex?

  You can keep your cravings. I am a pure spirit.

  Pure is not how I would describe you. Instead I’d say you are interfering, bossy, arrogant, and annoying. And if you can see the future, I suspect you are also bored.

  Very perceptive. But that’s irrelevant. What you need is to stop fighting yourself. Go down the hallway and get to know that woman.

  Why the hell do you care? He punched his pillow. He would talk to Azsla in the morning when she had recovered from her recent ordeal. To do anything less, no matter how much he wanted to seduce her, violated his sense of fair play. So Derrek had no intention of interrupting her sleep.

  She’s not sleeping.

  Are you in her head, too? The idea startled him. Could this alien—

  My name is Pepko.

  Well, Pepko. I am so not glad to meet you.

  Would it hurt you to use some manners?

  I didn’t know you had feelings but I’m not inclined to be nice to things—

  Beings—

  Anyone who invades my privacy. And I suspect you’re irritating her, too.

  I don’t converse with her.

  But you know her thoughts?

  I know . . . all.

  Then who the hell are you and why are you in my head?

  That will be revealed at the proper time.

  Are you a First?

  Have you ever met a telepathic First?

  No. He hadn’t. In fact, before Pepko, he’d thought telepathy no more possible than his growing himself a pair of wings. So are you friend or foe?

  Life isn’t that simple. You just need to believe in me.

  I for one do not believe you are Vigo.

  Again laughter suffused his mind. I am no deity.

  If you know all, then you must have realized by now, with whatever you use for a brain—

  There’s no need to be insulting.

  That I am not going to obey you. He’d never obey anyone again. He’d spent most of his life as a slave, taking orders, being bent to do the will of others. Being accused and punished for things he hadn’t done. Never again.

  Pepko must have sensed his strong feelings on the matter.

  I didn’t ask for blind obedience. I told you to do what you wanted—which is to go down the hall and get to know that woman.

  The sincerity of Pepko’s exasperation convinced Derrek the alien wasn’t a First. He might not know who or what he was, but he was willing to believe at least this much.

  If Pepko hadn’t lied, and that vision was from his future, that meant he and Azsla would become lovers. But why did Pepko care? He asked, but Pepko didn’t respond, seeming to have once again left him alone. Damn it. He’d wanted to ask about the rumor that Rama might wipe out Zor. After all, Pepko knew all . . . he snorted. Damn Pepko with his interference.

  Even if Azsla was his future, knowing what they could be like together made this time apart more difficult and made him more impatient. Just thinking about her had him aroused. Derrek almost wished he’d never kissed her. Never felt her eager response. It hadn’t really happened, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  The knowledge of how good they could be together burned within him. Fed his fire and added to his agitation to be with her.

  When he heard a soft knock on his door, Derrek slipped on a pair of sleeping pants. With a yank, he knotted a tie at his hips, then flung open the door. “What?”

  He had been certain it was Sauren. But Sauren didn’t have skin as soft as peach fuzz. Or eyes as wide as a young gazella’s. Azsla had showered and wore sleeping pajamas kept in the rooms for guests. Over them she’d thrown on a robe that parted in a V at her neck, where he could see her pulse racing.

  Apparently she hadn’t gotten the greeting she’d expected. Her hand rose to her mouth, but her eyes took in his bare chest and dilated slightly before she raised her gaze to his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  He stepped back and opened the door, curious to see if she’d hesitate to enter. He should hav
e known better. Any woman brave enough to escape slavery on Rama and risk the hardships of space wouldn’t be afraid.

  She stepped right up to him, close enough for him to smell her freshly washed hair, and placed a warm hand on his bare arm. “I couldn’t sleep and hoped you’d still be awake.”

  The circles under her eyes had darkened, and her skin seemed a bit pale. As happy as he was for her company, clearly now was not the time for amorous advances. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips pressed into a tight line, and he sensed she was keeping herself upright through pure determination. “You look exhausted.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I meant no insult. Clearly you are a beautiful woman, but you need rest.”

  At his comment, red flushed up her neck as if she were unaccustomed to compliments, and he found that odd. Slaves on Rama had many casual relationships, taking pleasure where they could. Few of them married since the consequences could be disastrous when one didn’t have any control over one’s fate. He’d been one of the few to risk it, and paid the terrible price after his memory was wiped and he couldn’t remember his family.

  On Zor, many of the escaped slaves had chosen to commit to one life mate, but Azsla hadn’t been here long enough to absorb their customs. However, her blush didn’t fit in with the typical Raman slave background of an experienced woman who was accustomed to men partnering with her for her beauty, either.

  “I can’t sleep until I know my crew will be safe.” Her tone was fierce, her eyes grave. When she dropped her hand to her side, he missed her touch.

  “No one will harm you here,” he spoke gently.

  She shook her head. “If the Ramans rain weapons down on Zor, no place on this world will be safe.”

  If her coworkers had baited Azsla, they’d done a good job. She certainly believed the rumor. Perhaps he shouldn’t have blown off her concern. At least, he could look into it further. He’d do so in the morning.

  “Would you like me to take you and your crew back with us to the asteroids?” he offered, his hopes soaring. He might be impatient, but if she didn’t want to live on Zor, he could have all the time he needed to woo her.

  She nodded. “We’re not unskilled. And we all work hard. I know it is much to ask, but—”

  “I’ll make room for you and your people.” He didn’t even hesitate. He wanted time to get to know her.

  Interrupting his thoughts, an emergency message broke through the link. “Boss man, you aren’t going to believe this. You’ll want to come down to the basement right away.”

  14

  FOR A MOMENT, Azsla had feared Derrek wouldn’t allow her to accompany him. Then he held out his hand, and they left together, her curiosity burning. He led her down a hallway to a private elevator that sank into a basement bunker that rivaled the instrumentation at the Space Ministry. Inside, a half dozen men sat in front of computer vidscreens, tracking spacecraft, asteroids, cargo transports, and ore, as well as what she suspected were dozens of military ships.

  She arched an eyebrow in a silent question at his obviously illegal spying. From his command center he could watch every spaceship landing at the port, military convoys, and troop movements. He tracked news on every station linkup, ships docked in port, railroad cars, and train schedules. He also intercepted satellite transmissions. No wonder he’d hesitated to bring her here. He had to be breaking dozens of laws.

  “I like to know what’s happening,” Derrek explained without really explaining anything at all.

  She said nothing. She had enough on her own conscience without judging him. When Azsla had failed to report her findings to her contact, she’d committed treason. And she’d done so again when she’d told him about the tranqed Firsts and about the coming attack on Zor.

  “Boss man.” The tech pointed to his screen as Sauren came up and joined them. On seeing her, Sauren gave her a startled look, and she didn’t attribute it to her pajamas and robe, but to his surprise that Derrek had let her into his secret enclave. Then the tech began to explain. “I broke the Space Ministry’s encryption, and the picture isn’t pretty.”

  “Show us,” Derrek demanded.

  A starscape played on the vidscreen monitor. “Zoom. Five hundred percent.”

  Azsla saw an object hurtling through space, the ominous mass blocking out stars, and her blood chilled. “What is that?”

  Sauren went into lecture mode. “This is an asteroid called Katadama. It’s over five miles wide and heading our way.”

  “Toward Zor?” Derrek asked.

  “According to my calculations Katadama will probably strike Zor somewhere in the ocean.”

  “Probably?” Derrek asked.

  “Eighty percent probable,” Sauren said, though he looked doubtful.

  Sweet Mother of Vigo. Katadama was the Raman space weapon Yawitz had told Azsla about back at the Space Ministry. Somehow, they’d found a way to aim it at Zor.

  Azsla’s mouth was so dry she could barely get out her question. “An ocean strike is better than hitting land, right?”

  “Wrong. After it punctures our atmosphere, it’ll penetrate the ocean within a second.” Although Sauren didn’t sound worried, his cool, crisp and very dry factual explanation sent icy chills through her. “Debris will splash out of our atmosphere, perhaps halfway to the moon. The pieces that fall back will burn hot enough to flash bake the entire planet. No plant life or animals will survive. None.”

  “Sweet Vigo.” Azsla reached out to steady herself on a desk. The Ramans had actually figured out a way to lob that asteroid at Zor. “Why are you so uncertain about the trajectory?”

  “The object is behaving abnormally.”

  Derrek leaned forward, his scowl making him look threatening. “What do you mean?”

  The tech flicked a few controls, and the screen changed. Two lines showed different courses. “This is Katadama’s usual orbit.” Sauren pointed to a path that missed Zor by a few hundred thousand miles, still close in the vast distances of space, but not catastrophic. “Two months ago, the orbit began to alter.”

  The second path bisected the planet. “It’s almost as if someone deliberately shot that hunk of rock at Zor.” Derrek frowned.

  She was shaking inside. Her people were aiming that asteroid at Derrek’s people, his children, people like her crew who wanted to start a new life. After what her people were about to do to Zor, if he learned she was a First, he’d probably stake her out at ground zero.

  “How long until impact?” Derrek asked.

  “Less than a week. It depends on how the gravity in our solar system increases the asteroid’s speed, and I won’t know that until we determine the rock’s chemical composition.”

  “All right. Keep working. In the meantime, bring in the best people we’ve got. Put Taylo Misa in charge of figuring a way to blow up that rock or change its course.”

  “Do we notify President Laurie?” Sauren asked.

  If the president was conspiring with tranqed Firsts, he’d already know about Katadama. If he wasn’t, then he’d need all the advance warning they could give him, so she wasn’t surprised to hear Derrek’s decision.

  “Inform him, but do it quietly. Maybe the military ships can evacuate some people to the moon bases, but remember, we don’t want to panic everyone. Meanwhile, see what we can do to transport as many people as possible from the planet.”

  He turned to Sauren. “Round up every ship we’ve got and bring them here.”

  “Our ships are full of salt. And if we offload—”

  “Dump it.” He didn’t hesitate even though he was about to lose a small fortune, and her admiration for him, for his concern for his people, made her wither a little inside. Her people were doing this.

  “Those ships aren’t meant to transport people.”

  “So re-outfit them.”

>   “You’re asking the impossible. They won’t be here for days. Then we have to fit them for air, pressure, heating, and cooling systems.”

  “Do what we can. Gather all our people and their families first. If they have to, they can travel in space suits. It won’t be comfortable, but they’ll live. Take as many supplies as we can carry. Sauren, you’re in charge of evacuation. Spend whatever you need to. Go heavy on generators, hydroponics, medicine, seeds. Whatever we can’t manufacture in the asteroid mines has to come with us. It may be years before we can resupply.”

  “Many ships won’t arrive in time to do any good.” Sauren checked his personal link. “I’ll reroute ships and rent, borrow, and beg what supplies I can.”

  “Good. Try and keep the news quiet for as long as possible. There’s no point in upsetting the population. Maybe we’ll come up with a way to prevent the disaster. Meanwhile, I’m going after my kids.”

  “We need you here.” Sauren frowned at him, then shut his lips tight as if he regretted giving his opinion.

  “My family needs me, too.” Derrek squeezed Sauren’s arm. “You’ll take care of things at this end as well I would. I’ll be back soon.”

  Sauren nodded. “Of course.”

  DERREK’S THOUGHTS worked at hyper speed as he left the basement with Azsla. Less than a week until impact meant that the asteroid wasn’t far away—not in terms of space distances. If it was already targeted at Zor . . . he had to act now. And to give Azsla credit, she wasn’t saying, “I told you so.” She looked as shaken as he felt that what she’d overheard was true.

  They reached a private sitting area, and he gestured for her to sit on the sofa while he paced. “That asteroid is the Raman weapon, isn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so.” She swallowed hard. “How far away are your children?”

  “Distance isn’t the problem.” He hesitated. “My family can be difficult.”

  He looked her in the eyes and saw something in her posture . . . stiffness. She gnawed on her bottom lip, but met his gaze steadily. “I don’t wish to pry, but why is this a problem? Doesn’t your former wife want to accompany you?”