Pets in Space® 4

by S. E. Smith

  That moment spanned a lifetime. Five lifetimes. Maybe ten. It was all passion and abandon and throaty whispers. It was pressing hands and quaking knees and searing looks. It was what he needed, what they both seemed to need, but what had been too long left unsaid and unexplored between them.

  It was heaven.

  And it was absolute hell.

  Rigel bent and swept her up, carrying her to the bed, laying her head on the soft pillows and covering her with his body. Bit by bit, they stripped off each other’s clothes, shed their boots, and drowned out the universe.

  Forgot its expectations.

  Cast off the future that could never be theirs.

  This time was for them alone. This present was theirs to share. All theirs. Only theirs.

  He kissed her as if these moments would never end. Tenderly and thoroughly. Letting her know she mattered, that everything she was and everything she wanted was important to him. He bent to nip her throat before shifting lower on her body, working his tongue over more sensitive places. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair, swearing in broken Rathskian.

  They rolled and thrashed in the sheets, trading intimacies and fevered caresses. Gaining and surrendering dominance. Giving and taking. Taking and giving. Riding their passion long and hard until it faltered and fell to its knees.

  Once the driving urgency was sated and only tenderness remained, he explored her body, all of it, learning which places he could kiss to make her gasp or touch to make her sigh. She was no less thorough in exploring him.

  When they were spent, they dozed and woke and whispered and made love and dozed again.

  Rigel had never shared this closeness with anyone else. He knew he never would again.

  But as sweet and perfect as their time was together, the chronometer was ticking down. This couldn’t last forever. Too soon these moments would be stolen away, and they’d be forced to say a final goodbye.

  When they eventually left their bed, they slipped into the fleecy bathrobes from the wall hook and stalked into the kitchen to look for food. A day had passed since they’d been impounded—a fact his stomach confirmed with a grumble.

  Where was leadership in the decryption process now? Still extracting and analyzing the volume of data he’d delivered, or had they started the briefings, sorting through the options the information would put on the table for them?

  How much time did he and Sona have left together?

  The chiller was well stocked, so they each selected a favorite meal, popped them in the galley fren oven and set the kinna to brew. Rigel lifted Sona onto the counter then parked himself between her thighs, slipping his hands inside her robe. The timer sounded too harsh and too soon.

  They gathered their meals and mugs of kinna to settle at the table.

  Sona had never looked more beautiful than she did in the soft cream wrap, with her tousled black hair covering one eye and a fresh-from-the-boudoir blush coloring her cheeks.

  As was often the case, her first words were a non sequitur.

  “What happened between you and your brother?”

  “We had a falling out.” Rigel shoveled a spoonful of sebi noodles into his mouth, chewed slowly, and swallowed. “Or maybe more of a falling down. I told him he was an ego-driven idiot who’d totally mucked up his future. He answered with a hard punch to the jaw. I went down but took him with me. Our argument lasted until we were both bruised, bloodied, and too exhausted to go on. When we were finally able to stand, we staggered off in opposite directions. We haven’t spoken since.” He paused to finish another mouthful of noodles. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Why did you call him those names?”

  “Because I wasn’t wrong.” Rigel bent over his meal, going silent.

  “Explain.”

  Rigel cleaned up his portion and pushed the container away. “He made mistakes—really stupid mistakes—when he let his ego run him. He lost the woman he loved, and his whole future with it.” For the first time, he realized what his brother must’ve been feeling when they started that fistfight.

  “And then he lost his brother, too.”

  Rigel had never thought about it in those terms. “Yeah.”

  “Rigel with Sona! Sona with Rigel!”

  The unmistakable intrusion of his SpyDog’s thoughts jolted Rigel right out of his chair.

  Sona was already on her feet. “I heard her. She’s close.”

  They ran to the bedroom and dressed frantically before dashing to the door that connected their quarters, opening it.

  The wall-comm buzzed at both their doors simultaneously. Rigel gave Sona one final I’ll-always-love-you kiss, guided her backward over the threshold, looked into her eyes for a long, lingering moment, then retreated to close and lock the door between them. He turned away before he could think too hard about it.

  He walked to his cabin entry and pressed the wall-com. “Yes.”

  Major Kelwell’s voice emitted from the speak. “General Kemm needs to talk to you immediately. I am also to inform you that Spirit returned to MONA Loa yesterday and Admiral Mennelsohn himself will be present.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “We’ve reviewed the data,” General Kemm announced, planting his intimidating mass directly in front of Rigel. “And cross-checked it with several key sources.”

  Just to his right, Admiral Mennelsohn stood silently with a hard frown and probing hazel eyes. The bearing of the admiral was unsettling.

  Was there a problem? Had the intel he’d smuggled halfway across the galaxy been flawed? Was he about to be tossed in the brig—or worse?

  “It’s authentic.” Kemm’s mouth twisted into a hard-worn smile. “Stupendous work, Agent.”

  Rigel squared his shoulders. “Thank you, sir.”

  Admiral Mennelsohn lowered his chin. “How much do you know about the data you provided?”

  “I know what it represents,” Rigel answered truthfully. “Excessive traffic in the space lanes. Too much activity to effectively monitor. A multitude of ships—Alliance and civilian—all searching desperately. For something.”

  “Not something,” the admiral stressed. “Someone.” His keen eyes narrowed. “A Rathskian who went renegade. And now the whole of the Alliance is doing everything in its power to recover this individual. Searches. Scan buoys. Boardings. Huge bounties. Everything.”

  Is he talking about Sona?

  “As a result, tens of thousands of ships—both military and privateers—are scouring every known planet, every possible space route. The Alliance is conducting a frantic search. And so are millions of headrunners hoping to cash in on a live capture bounty that could make them wealthy for generations to come. It’s causing so much chaos in the space lanes that the Network could assemble their entire multi-planet fleet, undetected.

  “That’s the meaning behind the navigational data you brought us. It’s a desperate bid to recover the Rathskian heir-apparent.”

  Rigel reeled. The heir-apparent? So his theory had been wrong. It wasn’t Sona the Alliance was hunting, it was her intended mate!

  The admiral paused to rub his jaw. “Something completely unexpected has happened. As of now, the man they’re hunting is in Network custody.” The man’s hazel eyes locked on Rigel. “The Rathskian heir-apparent has landed right in our laps.”

  Rigel wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “He’s…here, sir?”

  “He is.”

  Rigel briefly made eye contact with Sona, who looked as startled as he was. Her eyes cut to Ramo, who gave a stiff-jawed nod.

  “He was aboard a heavily damaged ship that Spirit plucked out of space before her systems failed,” Mennelsohn explained. “He arrived on station yesterday and the Network has granted him asylum.

  “But there’s a major caveat.” The man wasn’t gloating. The tension in the room had just magnified a hundredfold. “This man is the last of the Rathskian royal line. The last bloodheir. He’s irreplaceable. Rathskia has blamed Ithis for allowing him to escape. Ithis has put
the blame back on Rathskia. The two governments are at complete odds over his loss and the Alliance is crumbling as we speak. Ithis and Rathskia are on the brink of war. If it happens, billions will die, and the destruction will be unimaginable.

  “Your data showed us a window where we could act, but the conflict within the Alliance has proven that we must. We are sending the heir-apparent on a short mission. If all goes well, we’ll be initiating Operation Reset. Not in a decade or two, but within the next day. We have no option. We can’t allow the Alliance to start a conventional war. The data you delivered to us reveals there’s never been a better time to assemble our fleet…and do it right under their noses. The Network has you to thank for that, Agent.”

  The seal swept back, and two uniformed officers entered the room. The first he knew only too well. Captain Navene Jagger. It took him a moment to place the second man, and with recognition came a rush of adrenalin.

  Commodore Gant.

  “Rigel,” Gant said, his face solemn. “I’m here to thank you personally for what you brought us. Phenomenal work.”

  His brother, standing beside the commodore, gave him a hangdog smile. “Good job, little brother. Damned good job.”

  When Navene offered his hand, Rigel accepted it, and shook hands with his sibling for the first time in over seven calendars. Though he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t all just an act for his superiors, maybe they’d finally taken a step toward being brothers again.

  Navene stepped back into place beside Commodore Gant.

  Admiral Mennelsohn moved to stand before Rigel and Sona. “Do the two of you know why I’ve told you all this?”

  “No, sir,” Rigel answered in concert with Sona.

  Admiral Mennelsohn clasped his hands behind his back and slowly paced the room. He paused to rub his eyes, looking stressed and battle worn. “When the operation commences, Spirit and the bulk of the Network forces will be invading Alliance space.”

  Empora’s Hades. It was really happening.

  “If the Network fails at this initiative, it will be crushed. All survivors will be executed. The ships seized or destroyed. The participating governments abolished. Everything the Network attempted to do and everything it stood for will be erased from history.

  “That’s why I’m assigning the two of you to remain here on MONA Loa and wait out the operation. If we’re defeated, you’ll be entrusted with two final tasks. First, you will document the events for the records stored on this station, which now includes the archives you brought from LaGuardia. It will be the only remaining accurate account of human history.”

  Rigel traded looks with Sona.

  “Last, I will leave orders that you are to be presented with a ship and a pilot. It will be the only remaining ship that can traverse the distance to the central core of planets.”

  “Banshee,” Rigel muttered.

  Mennelsohn inclined his head. “Your mission will be to return Ramo and his daughter to Rathskia. We’ve ensured their cover story will be iron-clad. The Rathskian heir-apparent will also be returned to his home planet, and Sona will fulfill her role as his mate. She’ll become our best hope for the future. The Network will be gone, but through her, the last embers of freedom might one day spark again.”

  Rigel’s heart kicked in protest. Regretfully, he accepted his part. If Sona could be in a position to influence the future for the better, then following Admiral Mennelsohn’s final orders would be the only right thing to do.

  “Understood, sir,” Rigel answered darkly, taking a moment to regroup. He couldn’t look at Sona. Not now. “And what happens to everyone else remaining here on MONA Loa?”

  “This station was constructed to be self-sustaining for at least a millennium. Those remaining will live out the rest of their days here. In freedom.” The admiral drew a deep breath, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Or until such time that the Alliance locates its position.” The admiral’s sharp gaze narrowed on the two of them. “Do either of you have any questions?”

  Rigel drew himself up. “What are the Network’s chances of winning this war, Admiral?”

  “There won’t be a war. If the Network succeeds, the Alliance will simply cease to exist.” He looked Rigel directly in the eye. “And this conversation will never have happened. Do you understand?”

  Rigel lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. “Perfectly, sir.”

  “Good man.”

  Rigel turned his head to look at Sona. She gazed back at him, solemn and troubled. He reached out to take her hand—in full view of Ramo, the admiral, and everyone there—and laced his fingers through hers to hold on tight.

  The station had gone quiet and somber. Those left behind gathered to watch the deployment from MONA Loa’s many vu-portals.

  Rigel and Sona stood side-by-side on one of the levels of the central shaft. Spirit was readying to make what might be her final flight. She’d transport a bevy of ships back to Alliance space where they’d rendezvous with the bulk of the Network fleet prior to the start of their campaign.

  “Never been one to wait things out,” Rigel muttered, looking beyond Spirit into the emptiness of intergalactic space. “I wish I was going. Win or lose, I want to be a part of it.”

  “So do I,” Sona told him. “But the admiral gave his orders. And we serve the Network.”

  Rigel nodded solemnly. “To the bitter end.”

  She took his hand in hers, ran her thumb lightly over his knuckles. “This operation will be decided quickly. A few haras. Maybe half a day. And we’ll know.”

  “But our fate is sealed, no matter what. Isn’t it?”

  “Nothing lasts forever, Rigel. Not mountains. Not planets. Not galaxies. Not even entire universes. Everything is but a blink in time’s eye.” A tear glistened on her bottom lash. It didn’t fall, of course. She was Warrior-Class Rathskian.

  She gripped his hand tighter. “I thank the Highest Power for the time we were given. You will always be…right here.” She covered her heart with her free hand. Then slowly, hesitantly, she let her fingers slip through his, lingering for a long instant…then breaking contact.

  He understood. She was calling it. Their timer had run out. “I’ll never forget you.”

  “I don’t think either of us was meant to forget.”

  She gave him one last, sad smile and started to turn away.

  “Sona…”

  She pressed her fingers lightly to his lips. “Keep this inside you now, Rigel. Always.”

  Then she walked away, moving down the long corridor of MONA Loa Station.

  Rigel stood in the same spot, waiting while her figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance, and then, finally, disappeared.

  Epilogue

  Rigel’s bags were packed, his quarters tidied, and he was bound for the space docks to catch his ride back to Carduwa.

  Spirit had returned to take those on MONA Loa home.

  His feelings of triumph were tempered by a deep sense of loss. He’d provided the Network with the means to defeat the Alliance decades ahead of schedule, and though their success had come with great sacrifice, the future was now bright with promise.

  He was going home a free man, to live on a free planet in a free universe. And yet he was going home empty-handed. His satchel was light without the weight of his StarDog. His service to the Network was ended.

  He’d never again step foot on MONA Loa. The station would be abandoned here on the fringes of the galaxy, to operate under its own power for centuries to come. Only the ghosts of former glory would walk these decks now.

  Maybe someday she’d be discovered again. Along with the archives that would remain here, secreted in her data storage. A copy had now been downloaded to Spirit’s databanks to be available to the newly forming House of Planets.

  And Sona?

  Probably headed to Rathskia by now.

  He strode down the station corridor mired in her memories. So deep in thought, he didn’t realize someone had stepped into his path until he
’d nearly collided with her—a tall she-Rathskian clad in black synth-leathers.

  “I have something of yours,” she said.

  Maura cooed at him from Sona’s shoulder then made one of her signature leaps to land on his chest. Rigel dropped his bags to cradle her but shook his head. “I had her delivered to you as a gift.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Maura.”

  Rigel raised his head slowly to meet her eyes.

  “You do realize the Network succeeded?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Of course I realize.” He frowned. “I’m headed home to Carduwa. I’ve been discharged.”

  “Carduwa is a beautiful planet, I hear.”

  “It is.” He brushed a kiss to Maura’s furry little head and placed her back on Sona’s shoulder. Damn, this hole in his life was just too painful. Better to leave it behind and move on. He snagged the strap of his satchel and lifted it. “I wish you every happiness on Rathskia.” He reached out one last time to ruffle his former partner’s ears. “Both of you. But I’ve got a shuttle to catch, so…I guess this is goodbye.”

  He turned and walked away before his regret caught up with him.

  “Or not,” Sona called after him.

  He stopped. Bent his head under the weight of those words. But didn’t look back.

  “We’re not done here, Rigel. I told you I still have something that belongs to you.” She closed the gap between them. “My heart.”

  He lifted his head to stare her down. “Don’t do this. You’ve been promised to someone else.”

  “Yes, the next majesto of Rathskia,” she said.

  He clenched his teeth. Why was she reminding him?

  “Rigel, there’s not going to be one,” she said. “The heir-apparent rejected his title before the operation began. He’s denied his birthright. It seems…” She slanted her head to look into his eyes. “He fell in love with someone else.”