Warrior

by Angela Knight

  Her sister reached out a cautious hand and brushed her arm with shaking fingers. “You are real!”

  “Well, yeah. I . . .”

  To Jess’s astonishment, her sister jerked her into a hard, fierce hug. “I never thought I’d see you again! I thought that bastard Billy Dean’d had you killed!”

  Surprised, touched, Jess patted her sister’s thin back. “Billy Dean didn’t have anything to do with it. It was . . . somebody else.”

  Ruby pulled away, her gaze narrow and fierce. “Who? Who did this to you? We need to get the bastard locked up! You gotta talk to the cops.”

  “Uh, the cops can’t do anything about this guy. Besides, he’s dead.”

  Ruby’s brows flew up and she blinked in astonishment. “You killed him?”

  “No, my . . . uh . . . lover did.”

  “You’ve got a lover? Get out! Since when?” Blue eyes narrowed. “Is that what you’ve been doing while I was locked up? They thought I killed you, by the way.”

  “Yeah, I heard. I’m sorry. I would have come sooner, but I . . . couldn’t get away.”

  “Couldn’t get away? I thought you were dead, Jess! How could you . . . ?”

  “They wouldn’t let me go.” Spotting the stained velour armchair printed with birdhouses standing in the corner, Jess staggered to it and collapsed with a weary groan.

  “Who wouldn’t let you go? I don’t understand any of this.” Ruby wandered to the matching couch and fell onto it. Hands shaking, she searched through the litter of beer cans and wadded Kleenex on the scarred coffee table. Finally she found a packet of Virginia Slims and a box of matches.

  The familiar ritual of lighting the cigarette seemed to steady her. She took her first deep draw, eying Jess through the smoke. “Your blood was all over the apartment.” She sounded like she was beginning to think again. Which, knowing Ruby, might not necessarily be a good thing.

  “Yeah, I got stabbed. But then I got better.” Jess rubbed her aching forehead. Her EDI had warned that Jumping without a T-suit was unpleasant in the extreme. It wasn’t kidding.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Ruby’s eyes flicked over Jess’s clothing, taking in the emerald-green fabric that draped softly over her body. It sure wasn’t polyester. “And where did you come from?”

  Jess winced, anticipating her sister’s reaction. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she could get around telling her the truth. “The future.”

  “Yeah. Right.” She snorted a plume of smoke. “Seriously, where have you been?”

  “Hello? Remember Mr. Lightning Bolt?” Jess demanded tartly. “How do you think I beamed in like Captain Kirk? I’m not exactly hiding David Copperfield up my sleeve.”

  Ruby stared at her for a long beat. Slowly, her jaw dropped, and she started going pale again. “You’re serious. ”

  “As a heart attack.” Jess sighed. “Look, this is going to be hard for you to believe, but give me the benefit of the doubt.” Maybe she should take a look at the painting first, though, just in case Ruby decided to get difficult. “Where did you put my paintings?”

  “Your paintings?” Tweezed brows drew together. “I don’t have your paintings. The cops took everything.”

  “Damn.” Her heart sank. How was she going to get a look at that piece if it was in police custody?

  “Look, what’s all this shit about you being in the future? Could you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “You’re going to think I’m nuts.”

  Ruby’s lips twitched. “I’ve always thought you’re nuts.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Jess said drily.

  Her sister sighed and took another long pull on her cigarette, eyeing her through the smoke. “Let’s drop the sibling rivalry for a minute, okay? Just tell me who tried to kill you and where you’ve been. And what’s with the lightning bolt?”

  So Jess took a deep breath and told her the whole thing. It took more than an hour. An hour of looking into her sister’s eyes and watching disbelief and wonder go to war there.

  Wonder finally won. “Holy shit,” Ruby breathed when she finished.

  “That’s putting it mildly.” Jess leaned forward and braced her elbows on her knees, staring into Ruby’s stunned face. “Listen, you can’t tell anybody you saw me. Including the police. They have to go on believing I’m dead.”

  Ruby frowned. “Why?”

  “Because . . .” Oh, hell, this is way too complicated to explain. Ruby hadn’t even passed her high school biology class. She sure as hell wasn’t up to a lesson in twenty-third-century temporal physics. “Because if they find out I’m still alive, the future will be changed.” Never mind that you couldn’t really change history. Jess had learned years ago that if she wanted Ruby’s cooperation in anything, she had to make it about Ruby. “Your future would be changed.”

  “My future? What do I got to do with this?”

  “Actually, it’s about my paintings. You’ve got to get them back, Ruby. They’re going to be worth a lot of money.”

  "But ...”

  “Yeah, I know nobody was interested in them before,” Jess interrupted, “but that was before I was murdered. Now they’re collectors’ items. Or they’re going to be. In six months, you’re going to sell one of them for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

  Ruby’s jaw dropped. “Two hundred . . . thousand?”

  “Two hundred and fifty thousand. A quarter of a million dollars. And the price will go up from there. You’ll be rich.”

  “Me? But they’re your paintings!”

  Jess shook her head. “I told you, baby. As far as the world is concerned, I’m dead. The paintings are yours now, and so is the money.”

  “Money.” Her expression dazed, Ruby stared around at the single-wide trailer with its shabby furniture, scarred 1970s-era wood paneling, and worn shag carpeting. “God knows I’d love to be rich. I’d love to move out of this rat hole. I’d love not to be . . .” She broke off, but Jess knew the rest anyway. I’d love not to be a crack addict and a whore. Her chapped lips compressed. “But it’s not right. What are you going to do?”

  “Build a new life in the future. That’s where I belong now.” Jess hesitated, then said softly, “There’s a guy.”

  “The same guy who killed the one who stabbed you? Your lover?”

  “Yeah. His name is Galar Arvid. He’s . . . incredible.”

  Ruby’s gaze softened. “He’s not just a lover, is he? You love him.”

  “Yes,” Jess said simply. “I love him.”

  “Ivar always said he could hack any computer,” Dona said. “Apparently it wasn’t an empty boast.”

  “Apparently not,” Dyami growled, eyeing the female Enforcer. Anger seemed to sizzle off him in waves of heat.

  She met his stare without flinching, her face expressionless, though Galar could sense her misery.

  Dyami had ordered her to join him and Galar in his office as soon as Chogan had released her from regen. She’d spent an hour in the tube, healing the skull fracture Ivar had given her.

  “Fucker damned near killed her,” Chogan had growled to Dyami.

  The chief had actually paled at the news, his eyes taking on a cold, murderous glitter.

  Galar suspected Ivar was lucky he was safely in the brig, espionage charges or no.

  Now Dyami studied Dona as if he barely knew her at all. Galar would give him one thing: the man could act. “So when did you realize Ivar was dirty?”

  “When his fist hit the back of my head.” Her lips twisted in a bitter smile.

  Galar sat back in his seat, eying the two with sympathy. Even now, some of the tension between them had a distinctly sexual edge.

  It was particularly easy to detect in Dona’s case, since she was making no effort at all to control her emotional reactions. She’d even deactivated her computer implant. Without it, any attempt to lie would light up her brain like a com console.

  Dona apparently wanted to make it very clear to everyone that she was telli
ng the complete truth.

  Evidently the truth wasn’t pretty, though, because shame and anger seemed to dominate her thoughts. Along with one other emotion. “You’re feeling pretty guilty,” Galar observed. “What about?”

  “I should have realized what was going on.” Dona tilted up her chin and looked him in the eye. “I knew Ivar kept his computer implant active almost all the time, but it didn’t occur to me it was because damn near every word coming out of his mouth was a lie. Instead, I believed him when he said he . . .” She didn’t drop her gaze, though color spilled into her cheekbones. “I believed him when he said he loved me. But a man who loves you doesn’t beat you half to death so he can kill an innocent woman.” Her eyes went bleak. “My gullibility cost Jiri and Ando their lives, and damned near got Jessica and me killed.”

  Dyami sighed, his broad shoulders slumping, the hostility draining from his face. “You’re not the only one he suckered, Enforcer. I thought he was aggressive, competitive, and intelligent, but I would have sworn he was honest. And certainly loyal to the Galactic Union.” His voice took on an icy note. “Instead, he’s a sociopath who isn’t loyal to anybody or anything.”

  “It’s safe to say we all bought the act,” Galar agreed. “He’s good.”

  Damned good, at any number of vicious little skills. Not only had Ivar sabotaged the Outpost’s computer during the combot’s attack on Jess—along with the combot itself—he’d also hacked the comp again when he’d been sent to bodyguard her. That’s why the Outpost had ignored the assault on both Jess and Dona.

  Galar and Dyami, using their respective comp implants, had determined how he’d pulled that little trick off and plugged the security holes in the Outpost’s mainframe. He wouldn’t be doing it again—and neither would any other potential Xeran moles.

  Another worrisome issue was the courier ’bots who’d visited Ivar so often. There was no way of knowing what those couriers had told him . . . or what he’d told them. The ’bots were supposedly from legitimate sources: family members, officials with Temporal Enforcement—but the Enforcers were going to have to backtrack to find out if those people had indeed sent them. Galar had the distinct feeling they’d discover otherwise.

  At the moment, though, he was much more interested in another question altogether: where had Jessica gone?

  And was she being hunted there too?

  Ivar sat in his cell, clenching and unclenching his big fists. They’d disabled his computer implant and left him with only enough power to his cyborg limbs to let him walk and feed himself. He doubted he could win a fight with a newborn kitten right now.

  Bastards. They didn’t deserve to win. He was faster, better, smarter.

  If he could get his hands on that bitch Dona, she was dead. He was going to kill her for betraying him like this. Tripping him. Keeping him from doing his job and killing that stupid primitive.

  He’d put Dona to the test, and she’d failed him. So much for her claims of deathless love. When push came to shove, she’d chosen her career over him. Hell, she’d probably been fucking the chief behind his back, too, the little whore.

  He was going to make her pay for that. Somehow.

  Unfortunately, he had no idea how he was going to pull off that neat little bit of revenge. They’d stolen his power.

  The deafening sonic-boom crack of displacing air brought his head up with a jerk. Male voices bellowed—his guards, yelling for help from Outpost Security. Both men cut off in mid-shout. Warning Klaxons began to howl.

  He managed to reel to his feet just as the trid field vanished from the cell doorway. A hulking battlebot stuck its glossy gray, vaguely humanoid head through the opening. “Come.”

  Ivar smiled, vicious and triumphant. It seemed he wasn’t done yet.

  Galar raced down the corridor toward the brig with Dyami and Dona Astryr at his heels. He’d gone to riaat, and the berserker state’s biochemical storm was a hot, burning song in his blood.

  Shouts rang out, along with a familiar rippling snarl and vicious barks. Frieka was on the scene, making life difficult for the bad guys.

  They rounded a corner to find a knot of Enforcers fighting a unit of battlebots. A fast head count told Galar there were fifteen of the hulking, glossy gray androids slugging it out with an equal number of their own people. Somewhere in the midst of the group, his sensors told him, Ivar and another of the ’bots were fighting Frieka and Riane.

  “You can be damn sure that ’bot has a Jump unit,” Dyami told the two Enforcers through their implants. “We’ve got to get to them before it transports Ivar out. I don’t want that son of a bitch getting away.”

  From the corner of one eye, he saw Dona snarl. “Over my dead body!”

  The nearest of the ’bots spun toward Galar, swinging up a shard rifle. Galar threw himself into a forward roll as Dyami ducked aside. The barrage of metal fragments hissed overhead like a deadly rain. The ’bot danced backward, smoothly shifting its aim to follow Galar’s roll. He kicked out, catching the android across the thighs, and it fell. Its weapon hit the deck and skittered right into Galar’s waiting hands.

  He swept up the rifle, rolled to his feet, and fired into the ’bot’s head. The ’bot jerked, tried to rise, and he fired again. The second blast took out what was left of its command system. It fell back, its skull spitting sparks and blue smoke.

  Galar turned to see Dyami heave one of the ’bots over his head, roaring a battle cry as he hurled it at another. The androids collided with a deafening crunch and a flurry of sparks.

  Never piss off a Warlord in full riaat, Galar thought in grim satisfaction.

  Spotting another ’bot drawing a bead on Dyami’s dark head with a shard rifle, Galar opened up with his own weapon, sending the android stumbling back under a hail of shards.

  As his opponent fell, Galar turned to see Dona forcing her way through the crowd, trying to get to Ivar. The traitor had both hands locked around Frieka’s furry throat in an effort to keep the wolf’s snapping teeth from his own jugular.

  Just beyond them, Riane, also in riaat, traded punches with another of the ’bots. Riane’s booted foot hit a puddle of blood and skidded out from under her. As she fell to one knee, the ’bot drove a kick into her face, slamming her backward. She landed hard on the deck and didn’t move.

  Galar cursed and lifted his rifle, but another Enforcer staggered between him and the Warfem’s victorious opponent. He bellowed at the man to step aside.

  Too late. The ’bot grabbed Frieka by the scruff, tore him away from Ivar, and hurled him across the corridor like a stuffed toy. The wolf’s yelp cut off as he hit the wall hard. The ’bot jerked Ivar to his feet.

  “Get me out of here!” the traitor yelled.

  Galar cursed and adjusted his aim, trying to get a clear shot at Ivar’s head.

  BOOM! The blinding light and rolling thunder of the Jump shook the deck beneath Galar’s boots. When his vision cleared, both Ivar and the ’bot were gone.

  “Seven Hells!” Galar snarled.

  The nearest combot turned toward him and said, its tone oddly polite, “I am programmed to warn you we will now self-destruct. You have thirty seconds to clear the area. Twenty-nine ...”

  “Twenty-eight,” another ’bot said.

  “Fuck!” Dyami roared. “Retreat!”

  Ignoring him, Galar raced past the ’bots to grab Frieka by the scruff of the neck. Hauling the beast into his arms, he turned to find Dona Astryr draping an unconscious Riane over her shoulder. “This way!” he snapped, and galloped up the corridor with the women at his heels.

  Glancing back, Galar saw Dyami running the opposite way, carrying a wounded Enforcer as if he weighed no more than a pillow. The other agents sprinted after him.

  “Five . . .”

  "Four ...”

  "Three ...”

  “In there!” Galar roared at Dona, and dove at her, Frieka tucked under his arm. His lunge carried all four of them into an open cell. With any luck, its reinforced walls
would . . .

  The battlebots began to detonate in thunderous booms that shook the floor under them. Galar, Dona, Frieka, and Riane went down in a heap of fur and uniformed flesh. Galar covered the others’ bodies with his and threw both arms over his head.

  The explosions seemed to go on forever, blast after deafening blast. Until finally silence fell, broken only by the whoop of the Klaxon and the whoosh of foam as the Outpost’s fire-suppression system activated.

  “Bloody hell,” Galar said, barely able to hear his own words through the ringing in his ears.

  “Yeah,” Dona said bitterly. “That about sums it up.”

  Jessica paced the shabby living room, chewing a thumbnail. “I need that painting.”

  “Why?” her sister asked, watching her from the couch. “What good is it?”

  “Charlotte told me it holds the answers I’m looking for. I’ll bet if I can just touch it . . .” She turned toward Ruby. “You think you could ask the cops to let you see it?” Then she grimaced and waved a hand, dismissing the question. “Never mind. They’d just say no and get suspicious of you again. Where the hell would they be keeping it?”

  “Probably in the evidence room.” Reading her astonished glance, Ruby shrugged. “Billy Dean was always talking about this fantasy he has of breaking into the county evidence room. That’s where they keep all the drugs.”

  “Probably every drug dealer in the county has the same fantasy.” Jess grunted. “Along with every murderer, rapist, and pedophile who’d like to destroy the evidence against him.” Which implied that the room would be both heavily guarded and equipped with a formidable security system. Not the kind of place she’d want to try to break into, even with her new powers. Particularly since she wasn’t sure she could really control them.

  So the evidence room was out. She supposed she could Jump to the time when the cops returned the paintings to Ruby. Except she had no idea when that would be.

  Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Or she could go the other way, and get to the painting before the Xeran’s attack even occurred. No, better not. What if she ran into herself?

  Except she hadn’t. She’d certainly remember meeting some mirror image of herself babbling about men from the future.